#yall better read it

[willyoubethepookietomypookster]

"Not so common cold"

Hey yall!! Its finally out!! The ending was a little rushed because I wanted to get it over with, but i hope you still enjoy it! This one is a little longer than the others, which I'm really proud of cuz i usually lose motivation very quickly on writing projects. Also sorry for any bad grammar or non capitalized i's. Its my adhd. Happy reading!!

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It was a cold, rainy day in Soho. You lay restless on the bookshop floor, the cold wood being the only thing keeping you from melting. You basically lived here at this point, but when you woke up with your blistering fever, Aziraphale was no where to be found. He left a note saying he was out for business with Crowley, but he wouldn't answer any calls. After about 2 hours, you decide to call them one more time. You reach for your pocket before realizing you left it on the couch. You pull yourself up by holding on a table, and trudge over to the couch. You grab your phone and speak into the phone.

"Call Aziraphale." You strain.

"Calling Azraphale." The cheery british bot says. It said his name wrong and that makes you chuckle, which then makes you start coughing up a storm.

"Damnittttt. Pick upppppp!!" You whine. "C'mon! You can't be this busy." You're on the verge of tears when Aziraphale picks up.

"Sorry y/n, I seemed to have accidentally set my phone to silent before Crowley told me to check it, because there's no way you haven't checked in. I saw that I had nine missed calls, is everything alright?" He sounds really worried.

"I'm sick out of my mind. I'm dyinggg." You whine again. Aziraphale starts audibly freaking out over the phone.

"Oh heavens!!! Crowley we've got to go home right now!" You hear him yelling in the background.

"Sorry dear, we'll be right over, don't even worry about it." He says hastily.

"Wasn't. See u soon Pa." You reply. Your fever has been steadily going down, but you're still a little delirious, as you called Aziraphale dad on accident. Aziraphale and Crowley have asked you about your parents before, but you always refuse to talk about them for some reason. The truth is, you don't even remember your parents, but whenever you try and think about them you get a weird pit in your stomach, filled with fear, sadness, and a little anger, so they decided to stop pushing.

"Y/n wh-" Aziraphale starts, but the line cuts, and you assume that his phone died or something. You go lay back on the floor, awaiting their arrival.

About half an hour later, Crowley and Aziraphale arrive. They both have a bag of something. You try to peel yourself off the floor, but it makes you dizzy and you give up.

"You look like death." Crowley says.

"I feel like death." You reply, barely moving. He almost rolls his eyes, but he hesitates, and for a second you can see his gaze soften, before he decides to roll his eyes anyway.

"Okay kid, this isn't Romeo and Juliet, you'll be fine." He says, walking off somewhere. Aziraphale walks in and kneels beside you.

"Okay y/n, roll over so I can feel your forehead." Aziraphale says. You groan and protest, but do it anyway. His hand is warm, and while that would usually be nice, its terrible right now.

"Your hands are too warmmm." You say, trying to wriggle away.

"Jeez, y/n, you're burning up! Come on, up we go. Lets lay on the couch, okay?" He states, lifting you up by your arms and basically dragging you over to the couch. You lay down flat and get hit by a wave of nausea and groan.

"This really sucks." You sniffle, your voice wavering as you feel like crying.

"I know, I know, its okay." Aziraphale responds, rubbing your back. He waves his hand and suddenly the room is very cold. He shivers slightly, but you sigh in relief, as you felt like you would shrivel up and die any second from heat stroke. Crowley walks in and almost recoils in shock from the temperature.

"It's like a freezer in here! What happened?" He yelps. Aziraphale gives a sympathetic nod in your direction and Crowley calms down almost immediately. Crowley hesitates for a second, but reaches down to feel your forehead. His hand is surprisingly cold and you lean into it.

"Jeez, you really are burning up." He whispers. Aziraphale makes a comment about how Crowley really is nice, which makes him rip his hand off of your forehead and down into his pocket, which makes you whine.

"Noo your hands are cold and nice." You pout. You typically wouldn't be acting like this, but your fever has you delirious. Crowley gives you a funny look, and almost reached back down before seeing Aziraphales smile and deciding against it.

"Too bad. I'm not gonna pamper you just cuz you're sick, you know." He says and you whine again. He leaves the room to do hell knows what and you talk to Aziraphale.

It had been an hour and a half since they returned and you had thrown up once and then fallen asleep. The bags that they walked in with were now stuffed in the back office. One filled with medican from a local pharmacy and the other filled with your favorite take out. Crowley was the one who suggested the takeout, but when they got home they saw that you were in no state to eat and so Crowley put it in the small fridge they bought for you in back.

After a few minutes, you woke up, but kept your eyes closed to conserve energy. While you were lying there, Crowley walked over to you and sat on the couch beside you. He gingerly reached over and brushed some hair out of your eyes. You hold back a smile to see what he would do next.

"You poor creature. I had forgotten how fragile you are." He states. This catches you off guard, as this is totally out of character for Crowley. Crowley notices you twitch, and you pretend to wake up. He quickly pulls his hand away and goes to stand up.

"Where are you going?" You say, faking a yawn and rubbing your eye. His gaze softens slightly as he sits back down next to you.

"Nowhere. Don't worry about it." He says and smiles, obviously being nicer because you're ill.

"Good." You say, and grab his hand. You guys sit in silence for a while before Aziraphale comes and takes your temperature again.

"101.." He sighs. "But at least its going down. You were 109 an hour ago." He smiles.

"109?????" You exclaim. "Aren't I supposed to go to the hospital at that point??" Aziraphale looks a little stunned, but Crowley makes a noise and sprawls out on the couch.

"Too late now. You're fever has gone down to a normal-ish level." He states. You guys all move to a table in the back room, and Crowley grabs the previous take out from the fridge and places the bag on the table.

"Ya still nauseous or do you think you can eat?" You look inside the bag and your face lights up.

"From (fav restaurant)????!!! I'm starved!!" You exclaim, and immediately start pulling the containers out from the bag. Aziraphale is typically the one who eats with you, as Crowley doesn't enjoy it as much as he does, but he decides to eat with you guys today just to make you happy.

"Damn Y/n, if I knew any better, I'd say you hate this restaurant." Crowley says and chuckles as you pull containers out at the speed of light. Aziraphale gives him a look.

"Well obviously not, look at the speed they're-"

"Sarcasm, Angel." Crowley interrupts.

"Ah, well. Of course." Aziraphale says.

"Its okay dad. Pa was just teasing. He meant no harm." You say, while opening a container and digging some food out of it. They decide mutually not to pay attention to the fact that you called them dad, and to just enjoy the moment. They didn't mind the term. Quite the opposite in fact, (though Crowley would never admit that) but they often didn't know how to react. They just smiled and chatted while you ate. Crowley ruffled your hair and Aziraphale made you some hot chocolate. Suddenly your terrible sick day wasn't so terrible after all.

[heartsbreaking-migrated]

i made an edit and now im writing a full ic magazine profile of one of my muses

[fandomsandfeminism]

I'm begging people to not be afraid of OTC pain meds.

OTC pain meds are not a devil’s bargain or a moral failing. They are a tool to reduce unneeded suffering. They do not destroy your organs if taken correctly, and there is no reward for the people who take the fewest pills in life.

Take what helps, and take it safely! If you have prescription meds or other health issues, always check for possible interactions/adverse effects. 

Edit: the upper limit for paracetamol/acetaminophen is actually more like 4g for most people! :)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi!! Your Cherik is so good and gorgeous 🤩🤩 If you don't mind wanna try to draw some Fall of X Cherik please?

thank you so much !!

i have a couple of ideas relating to the fall of x period specifically since theres. A Lot i wanna play with, so i hope this lil thing may be a satisfactory start :]]

and the obligatory bonus:

[sporeclan]

< Previous | First | Next >

Leaf-bare again and we're already off to a bad start :')

[s0fter-sin]

what up i’ve been obsessed with would you fall in love with me again like every other person on the planet and i can’t stop thinking about penelope’s final verse

she’s so angry; angry that odysseus would dare to suggest that her love for him has faltered or his actions were enough to destroy it. she’s been waiting, working her fingers raw unweaving her shroud every night, not sleeping as the suitors camp inside her home; every day a threat to her and her son, to her kingdom if an unworthy man - and they are all unworthy - should take the throne. she knew they wouldn’t wait forever, that at some point her deception would be realised; her dedication to her husband means she is at constant risk and the first thing odysseus does when he sees her - if this even is him - is question her love for him?

the very first thing he says (other than her name) is, “i am not the man you fell in love with.” penelope asks him if it’s really him standing there or if she’s “dreaming once more”. once more. she’s felt the cruelty of hope before; has looked at her doorway and seen odysseus the same as when he left (which is probably partly why she’s so shocked by how he actually looks) and felt unfathomable pain when her hopes were dashed over and over again. she asks if he is really her odysseus and he says no

yes, in his mind, odysseus can’t see how he can deserve her love after everything he’s done - the atrocities he’s committed, to himself he isn’t the same man, “i see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it’s no longer you” - but all penelope hears is her husband, the man she loves and waited for, doubts the strength of her love

penelope asks what kind of things he’s done and it must be shocking to hear; his actions so different from the man who left her behind even if he did them in name of returning to her. but when she asks him to move the bed, it’s as much a challenge as it is a test. she’s asking him to prove that he is the monster he claims to be; that if he’s changed so much and become so heartless, he should have no qualms about ripping the symbol of their love from its roots. and it’s also her only way of actually determining if this man who claims to be her husband yet doesn’t take her in his arms, is actually him

“just a moment of labour would bring me some peace” - if he does what she asks, then she will know either he’s changed so much that he’s no longer her odysseus or he’s another fake and was never hers to begin with; that her husband didn’t just stand in front of her and claim she can’t love him as he is. but she’s done. she was already willing to die when she stood behind the twelve axes she challenged the suitors to shoot through. she’s so tired. she just wants it all to be over

“only my husband knew that, so i guess that makes him you” - i guess. even after telling her something only odysseus and her knew, penelope’s still not convinced that it’s truly him. how many men came to her door claiming to be her long lost husband, banking on time and distance to dull memory of his face and voice, on her longing and desperation for odysseus to blind her into believing them?

but if this is her husband? if the man she’s loved through decades of absence has finally returned to her?

“i will fall in love with you over and over again” - an exhausted promise, the core of who penelope is and how she feels; assuaging his doubts and his own clear pain

but

“no matter how long it’s been, you’re mine. don’t tell me you’re not the same person, you’re always my husband” - penelope is screaming at him; how dare odysseus say this to her? dismiss her love and her suffering? he saw the men outside, he’s smart enough to know what they were here for and instead of apologising for being gone for so long, instead of begging for forgiveness for inadvertently putting her and their son at risk, instead of embracing her and putting an end to her torment, odysseus doubts her

“and i’ve been waiting, waiting” - the tone shift of penelope screaming at him to lamenting how long she’s been waiting is heartbreaking; it’s quieter as she gets lost in the pain of her grief, her anger failing as she recalls the memories of her long years of solitude. odysseus tries to call her back with his gentle “penelope” - such a contrast to his own exhausted anger at being asked to destroy their marital bed now that he understands why she asked that of him - but she can’t hear him; she’s too trapped in the memories. he tries again, still gentle but more insistent, and this time she does hear him and her anger comes rushing back along with her grief. her “waiting, waiting,” becomes almost accusatory; she’s been alone for so long and it’s bc of him, bc he wasn’t there, bc he left her waiting

that abrupt “oh” at the end of the verse isn’t just a vocalisation; in that moment, she’s realising that she has realised that he truly is odysseus. she knew it was him before she even processed it. she wouldn’t be this angry if he were anyone else; love and grief and anger coalescing in one single divine moment where penelope finally believes her odysseus has returned to her

“for you” - she’s been waiting and waiting, years turning to dust, her sleepless nights and days spent living in fear and preemptive grief- and it was all for him. odysseus is actually here. which means her waiting is over

“how long has it been?”

“20 years”

“i- i love you”

[sk3tch404]

RAHHHH IF I DIDNT MESS UP THE LAYERS THE COLORS WOULD BE BETTERR

This will do. Douma braintot 4eva 💞💖

[siennaditbot]

Sethos x Reader: Sun & Moon

Hehe, look at me actually finishing it lol. Been ages since I've written x Reader stuff but I hope yall like it. Sethos needs more love <3

Female reader but I hope yall can still enjoy it lol :>

Masterlist

Sethos was a people person. He could talk to everyone and make them forget that they hadn't just met him, seamlessly integrating into any group he wished.

He had a good facial memory, so he could strike up a familiar conversation with most of the citizens.

But there was someone in Sumeru City that he had never properly caught for a chat. A humble cleaner girl, who seemed to hate him for some reason.

Whenever he tried to start a casual conversation with her, she focused on anything but him, her body language telling him she did not want to talk. Her replies were curt and he had to try hard to keep the conversation from dying.

He was pushy, yeah, but he knew not to push his luck. She was practically holding a weapon she could smack him with, after all. An everyman’s polearm - a broom.

So, he stopped approaching her. They just coexisted, him passing by her sweeping the streets sometimes, offering a polite wave as he jogged past her.

Then, on one rainy day, Sethos was caught enjoying the shower between his errands. He stood in the middle of the empty street, eyes closed and face lifted skyward as if to hug the rainfall.

But the rain suddenly stopped.

He opened his eyes in surprise and briefly met hers, before she handed her umbrella to him and dashed off. He was left there, staring at her disappearing form and the splatters of water as she ran.

He was confused, but shrugged the absurd encounter off with an amused smile.

“Heh, guess she doesn't hate me, after all. Interesting.”

Sethos loved being in the city. It was full of fascinating people, especially within the Akademiya. He loved learning about them, their stories, ideas and passions.

And now the curt sweeper girl had caught his interest.

He still politely greeted her when he passed by, and her responses were curt as ever, usually simply nodding and letting him pass. But now he read her behavior as shy and awkward instead of hateful.

His polite smile became a bit more genuine when he understood.

He kept noticing her in other places after that, too. She was often found sitting in random spots, holding a notebook she was very focused on, not paying attention to anyone who wondered what her deal was.

Sethos was one of them. He curiously eyed her every time he saw her, but she never lifted her face from her notebook.

One day she was sitting on a box behind Lambad’s Tavern, hand going wild as she worked on the notebook in her lap. Sethos noticed her, and decided to approach her for once.

She jumped when his voice cut through her concentration, having broken into her bubble.

“Soo. What’cha working on there?”

She immediately shut the notebook and looked away, clutching it to her chest.

“Heh, you were really into it. Sorry for spooking you.”

She didn't reply, no idea what to say, so she literally waved it off. He got the message, leaning against the railing next to her.

“You're a funny one, you know. I can never expect where you'll be sitting with that secret tome of yours. I’ve heard people call you a local cryptid because of it.”

That made her snort, and she immediately threw a hand up to cover her mouth.

His smile widened, proud of drawing a new reaction out of her.

“It's true, though. I've seen you on several branches of the Divine Tree, on a roof or two, and I swear I caught you behind a bush once. What's up with that?”

She scratched her cheek shyly, not expecting anyone to pay attention to her.

“...Inspiration”, she finally managed.

“Inspiration, eh? What's so inspiring about sitting behind a bush?”

She chuckled lightly in response.

“I just like switching spots. Different angles.”

"Riight, right, that makes sense. What do you need that inspiration for, then? Writing, drawing, homework?”

She turned the cover of the notebook towards him. It had ‘sketchbook’ written on it in fancy letters.

“Ohhh, an artist, I see. That's cool. You got the whole ‘vibe’ down too, now that I think about it.”

She drew the sketchbook back to herself again, shrugging with a small, amused hum.

“Quiet and mysterious. Who knows what's going on inside those covers”, he explained with a playful grin.

She was still curt, but her small smile gave him confirmation that she definitely didn't hate him.

“I’ll let you continue, then. Can't stop an artist when inspiration hits, after all.”

After seeing her nod and timidly wave at him, he stood back up with a satisfied smile. He waved in response and walked off, arms stretched behind his head as he went to continue on with his day.

From there on, he stopped to bother her for a moment or two whenever and wherever he caught her. She didn't seem willing to talk about art or her secret sketchbook, so he kept the conversation alive, talking about whatever. She was still curt and shy, but her snorts and amused huffs became a more common occurrence as days passed.

One day, after he was done telling one of his stories, she seemed particularly thoughtful.

“What's up? Remind you of something? Oh, oh, did I give you inspiration?” he grinned excitedly, pointing at her.

She took a moment to formulate her reply.

“..How do you always have something to talk about?”

He didn't expect that. She didn't seem annoyed, though..

“Heh, I’ve just seen and heard many interesting things. I like sharing mine, and learning more from the people I meet.”

“That simple?”

He shrugged casually.

“I’m a people person. I like talking and listening.”

Her face formed a strained smile as she looked away.

“My brain always goes blank when there's people around. It's like there's not a single thought in there.”

That seemed to confirm his assumption of her treatment of him before. She was just shy. Or socially anxious.

“Ah. More of an introvert, then?”

“...No, I want to be around people. I just… short circuit. Not very interesting company.”

“I think you're plenty interesting”, he stated matter-of-factly, “you've got me curious.”

That surprised her, and she turned to look in the general direction of his face, but still not meeting his eyes.

“You’re curious? About me?”

“Sure am. There's the sitting in random spots thing, your mystery book, how you're so focused you don't react to people gawking and talking about you right next to you…”

He counted with his fingers, amused but genuine.

“There's obviously a lot going on in there. I’m curious about what sorts of ideas you have. Art isn't exactly the biggest thing around the city, after all.”

She had to take a moment to take in his words.

“It's nothing special, really. Just stories, imaginary situations and encounters.”

“A bit of fantasy added to the ordinary, eh? That's fun. Care to give me an example?”

A bit nosy, maybe, but he was interested.

She looked away for a moment, not sure if she should or whether she even could produce an example for him. He seemed genuinely curious though, so she tried, and inspiration hit when she gazed down at the docks.

“Um, like, a long-awaited reunion happening down there. A tearful embrace…”

She suddenly felt very embarrassed.

“..That's dumb, isn't it? I can-”

“No, no, no, don't worry. I can see it. A bit of a romantic, aren't you?”

She blushed a little, but shrugged with a noncommittal chuckle.

“Comes with the whole art thing, I think.”

“Heh, makes sense. I like it.”

A moment of silence. It was comfortable to him, but she felt the need to fill it.

“U-um, thanks, for, you know, always talking to me.”

He wasn't expecting that, either, and hummed in question, grinning curiously.

“...I like talking to people. It's just..difficult”, she continued, wanting her thanks to reach him properly.

“Well, I’m always down for a chat. I'll keep stopping by to bother you, then?”

“You aren't bothering me. But yeah. I'd like that. Maybe I’ll learn some tips and tricks from the master of social skills”, she joked with a soft smile.

“Sounds like a plan.”

And so they continued their occasional chats. He often ended up stopping people to talk with them, anyway, but it was nice to have confirmation that he actually wasn't bothering her.

His company gradually helped her relax and learn to imitate some of his social techniques, like asking questions and using more open body language.

Eye contact was still an issue for her, though. And to Sethos’ surprise, it bugged him a little.

He was straightforward and social, so eye contact came naturally to him. Not everyone he talked with looked back into his, so he knew it wasn't easy for everyone. And, to be fair, his eyes were kind of intense, which was a blessing and a curse sometimes.

Yet, somehow, he couldn't shake the thought of wanting to meet her eyes. She was always looking somewhere else when they talked. Usually her sketchbook.

He had only met her eyes once, by accident that time she handed him her umbrella. They were bright and curious, almost striking in the muddiness of the downpour.

He remembered them clearly.

Still, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so he did his best so she could relax when they chatted. He wouldn't push her, make her feel like she had to do it.

So, instead, he focused on learning more about her and her ideas and visions, and loved telling her his stories since they seemed to inspire her to some extent.

He learned to pick up on the change in her expression when she moved from listening to him to formulating an idea.

It was cute.

He thought positively about people, appreciated their qualities, both inside and out, but it wasn't often that he considered a person cute.

That thought lingered in his mind, too.

He didn't think it affected how he interacted with her, but he unconsciously became a bit more friendly, almost flirty at times. He often grinned when they talked, initiated playful physical contact - like poking or gently kicking her - and couldn't help but give her tons of honest compliments, especially on her art.

Her reactions made her even more cute to him. She blushed at times, yes, but she was playful in return, smacking him with her pencil or broom or rolling her eyes with that amused smile of hers. And she gladly showed him her work now.

One time after their brief chat when she was working, he was left with a single thought in his mind:

“Heh, shucks. I like her.”

It wasn't a world changing revelation, just made him connect the dots and realize how much his way of interacting with her had changed.

…And he was pretty sure she liked him too.

He kept interacting with her like usual, honestly just enjoying what they had. A comfortable friendship with banter, intrigue and plenty of laughter.

But it would be a lie to say that he wasn't also gauging more on what she could be feeling.

He picked his best stories, told them with a bit more flair, and gave her more casual compliments.

And, well, if their knees happened to touch when they were talking, or his playful pokes lingered on her skin a moment too long to be read as platonic, he didn't make a big deal out of it.

One day Sethos caught her sketching on a sturdy branch of the Divine Tree, easily accessible but not immediately visible to the townsfolk.

He chuckled and approached her, nimbly making his way to her in the tree.

“You're an enigma, you know that?” he grinned as he sat down next to her.

“It’s simple, really. The view is great from here. So many people to see, so much inspiration to gather.”

He looked down. The citizens were enjoying their evening activities; entering and exiting the tavern, boats docking, adventurers returning to get their rewards for their daily commissions.

It was interesting. He preferred to be mingling down there with them, but stepping back and watching the hustle and bustle from a different angle made him appreciate it in a new way.

He might not have lived in the city for long, but watching all those people do their thing made him realize how lucky he was to be around so many people nowadays. He grew up in the desert, with only the people of the temple as his company, after all.

He was gazing down with a gentle and slightly solemn expression, happy to be where he was now. He had friends, connections, and now… her, too.

He turned to look at her, about to share his appreciation for the view too, but to his surprise, he met her eyes. She had been watching him, curious about how quiet he went and what he was thinking of.

Her eyes held a hint of worry, but enough affection to make him stumble with his words. This time it was Sethos who broke eye contact, turning to look back down.

“Y-yeah. I get it. All those people have their own lives and stories to tell.”

“Exactly!” she chuckled and pointed the end of her pencil at him. “A gold mine of inspiration and ideas.”

They both loved getting ideas from people, huh? Their ways were different, sure, but maybe they were pretty similar, after all.

Stories, curiosity, ideas and inspiration. They worked well together.

That train of thought suddenly made him feel the need to communicate his feelings to her. Like his soul was calling out, wanting to connect with this girl whose company he had been enjoying more and more.

“You know, you remind me of the Moon sometimes”, he started, fittingly artistic for what he was about to do.

“Sounds fun and poetic. Care to elaborate?”

“You're always present, I just gotta know where to look. Mysterious, but mesmerizing.”

“Hehe, thank you.”

She smiled, but didn't seem to catch the full meaning of his words, so he continued.

“What I’m trying to say is, I like you. You draw my attention in a way no one else does.”

Well that definitely caught her attention.

“You do?”

Their eyes met again, and he nodded, not ashamed or embarrassed, but ever so slightly nervous.

She cleared her throat to answer him.

“...I always thought you were like the Sun. You're warm, fun, and easily draw people to you.”

She wasn't as calm as he was, but hoped her indirect poetic message reached him too.

“Does that mean what I think it does?” he couldn't help but ask, a hopeful grin on his face.

She moved her gaze down and nodded.

“I-I like you too. I feel like I can relax around you.”

Both sat in silence, soft and giddy grins on their faces, taking in the big words hanging in the air.

They turned to look back down at the citizens buzzing around the streets, the shy mood eventually becoming comfortable again, and moved on into imagining what kinds of adventures the people below them had experienced today.

Their fingers soon found each other and intertwined slightly as they sat together.

[oscahpitlane]

i do × landoscar

[achillean-knight]

Screaming and crying bc these were so fuckin' fun to draw bro

[rendevok]

The feeling of butterflies 🦋💕 - my piece for the @unfoldingmelodyzine, a kapollo charity zine

Also please check out the fic, of metamorphosis and butterflies by cosmicpoet on ao3

IDs in alt texts. More deets & a breakdown under the cut! ^^

This zine also offered a separate, behind the scenes breakdown of pieces; so you can see my thoughts & step-by-step process here!

It was a real honor to be a part of this project, as well as collab with Gabe on this very romantic scene for klapollo; we even made a playlist together (which u can enjoy)! There are so many things about this work that really pushed my skills and made me really proud of it, but i have to say… my favorite detail is the butterflies! If you can find all 29, then bravo!

[kiivg]

."Are you even listening to me, McCullum?".

[stealingyourbones]

recently watched a handful of episodes of Supernatural and im kinda impressed with Dean's steadfast belief that all monsters are monsters and can't be redeemed.

With that in mind... there could be some VERY angsty Danny Phantom crossovers with that as the main premise

[animerot]

Watching these two get jealous over each other never gets old

But even so, he’s always gonna save her when his girl needs him, also where y’all read your manga ? I want clearer pages, look how cute ranko and akane are holding hands

But the BEST part is when they band together and are acting so casually as a couple

The way they’re holding hands the whole time bro im crying

And lastly bickering at each other again and addressing their jealousies kind of

But hey akane said it best, good couple are bound to fight

[afsosville]

Lan Clan Shen Jiu! would use the killing chord technique religiously.

This is the same scholar who is known for fighting dirty, he would not give a shit about whether his fighting style is unorthodox or not. There's that mentality of using every advantage you've got (for survival).

[cchocolatekat]

ive known them for a grand total of two days