#i am not an impulsive person i am too indecisive rip

[omppupiiras]

helppp thoughts are being thunk right now but i only just realized there were still tickets available to the umk rehearsal......... so i could theoretically buy those tickets and go?? that's something i could do? but it's "just" a rehearsal and i probably won't even care about the umk contestants That much

but on the other hand.........i COULD go and see käärijä soooo. i could do something impulsive for once in my life and then i would get a glimpse of the blorbo with my own two eyes before may which is still so far away </3

[maldito-arbol]

Let’s talk about the GP zodiacs (Part 2)

HOLSY HSIT I LOVE THE GP KIDS SO MUCH AND THEIR SIGNS ARE SO INTERESTING

Thank u to puff-poff for shooting me with an ask about the gp kids, I think our brains just assimilated

One more note: I should’ve mentioned this in my last post but compatibility between signs doesn’t only apply to romantic relationships, it applies to any kind of relationship like friendships, family relations, etc. It’s just that when it comes to more platonic relationships, wholly incompatible signs are more likely to be able to work something out together. As an example, I’m a Gemini, and I’m about 300% certain I could never ever in my life date a Pisces, but I do have a few Pisces friends that I get along well enough with.

Okay same drill—sign, element, infodump, GO

Violet

Birthdate: June 12th

Sign: Gemini

Element: Air

Overview: SQUEALS GUYS ITS VIOLET MY BELOVED. WE’RE BOTH GEMINIS THEREFORE WE ARE THE SAME PERSON. I’m kidding but no, Violet being a Gemini makes her 100x easier to project onto. So I mentioned before that Air signs are the least in tune with their emotions, are the thinkers before they act, are horribly indecisive, and these very much apply to Geminis as well. However, the most iconic trait of a Gemini is the ability to switch personalities at the drop of a hat whenever it services the group of people they’re in—what most people call the ‘two-faced’ part of Geminis. Hey, I promise you that being two-faced is actually a pretty cool and useful asset when in the hands of a decent human being. It means we get along well with a lot of different people, and if we don’t, we can act like we do as if it’s nothing. This asset, however, can turn into a curse of sorts in that a lot of us have...NO IDEA what our actual personality is. We reshape and remold ourselves and copy traits from other signs to fit in so much that we lose sight of who we are as an individual, and therefore we have a very hard time figuring out what we truly want. This is where the indecisiveness comes into play—ask a Gemini what they want for lunch and you’ll get a “what? Huh? Oh, you pick. I’m fine with whatever.” I know Geminis best because I am one, pls forgive me for rambling so much more about them than the other signssss.

Okay so first of all, let’s talk about Violet adapting to other characters to ‘fit in’. It’s not as obvious because Violet DOES seem to have one very fixed personality, but Violet prefers to speak through actions rather than words, so I would call her following Emma to help the children at GP a Gemini move. She could’ve simply dragged her to Lucas—she’s probably strong enough to do so, but instead she decided to go along with her. This isn’t to say there’s no pushback of course, as Air signs Geminis aren’t idiots, so they’ll often try to reason with others (particularly fire signs cough cough) to try to bring logic and critical thinking into the conversation. However, when that fails, they can still be counted on to support their friends even if they disagree. This is why Geminis and Leos are soulmates you heard it here, the stars said Violemma is the way. BUT ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW VIOLET’S THE ONE ADAM LISTENS TO DURING THE LEUVIS BATTLE. YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT BEING ABLE TO GET ALONG WITH A LOT OF PEOPLE, THERE YOU GO.

Anyway it’s also very much worth noting that while Violet can seem very harsh at times (bc Geminis will put you in your PLACE), bringing her logical kind of advice into conversations can be a very helpful comforter.

On another note this scene is so gay?

Compatibility and ships: hellooooooo Air sign Violet you are compatible with other Air signs (Aquarius, Libra, and Gemini) as well as Fire signs (Leo, Sagittarius, and Aries). Usually you’ll see Aquarius and Sagittarius as the most compatible with Geminis but I disagree with that because I have never met a Sagittarius I like so I’m still pointing fervently at Leos and the fact that Emma is a Leo. Listen. Violemma is the way. I am determined to convert all of you to Violemma if it’s the last thing I do. Geminis simply cannot help themselves around Leos they fall like a fucking anvil for that bright, golden-hearted dumbass energy. If there’s any Leos in the tpn fandom let me know I might just propose to you.

Oliver

Birthdate: October 25th

Sign: Scorpio

Element: Water

Overview: the first time I looked up Oliver’s birthday I went “Scorpio???? REALLY????” but then this is another case where the more I think about it, it does indeed make sense. If Leos are the natural leaders of the Fire signs, then Scorpios are the natural leaders of the Water signs. Where Cancers and Pisces will often lose themselves to their emotions, Scorpios have a very strong handle on them. I mentioned before that Water signs are at the highest emotional level, but Scorpios are a bit of an interesting case because you oftentimes won’t even notice that they’re very emotional people. They try to act like Air signs in that way, but their true colors are always there, waiting to be coaxed out.

For Oliver, you can clearly tell that his emotional bond with his friends and especially with Lucas is very high—but even so, he doesn’t let his emotions cloud his judgment or his ability to adapt to the situation at hand. Where earth signs are very fixed and difficult to move, water signs are always moving and changing to find solutions best suited for new circumstances. The best example I can give is the part where the music plays early, and despite internally panicking about it, Oliver is the one who naturally steps up to calm everyone down.

Scorpios are great at handling others’ emotions as well as their own, which makes them marvelously empathetic leaders. We stan.

Compatibility and ships: as a Water sign, Oliver is compatible with other Water signs (Cancer, Pisces, and Scorpio) as well as Earth signs (Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn) so speaking broadly that makes him compatible with Pepe (a Pisces) and Zack (a Cancer) but narrowing it down, Scorpios are usually best with Tauruses and Cancers. Idk if I’m the only one who ships Oliver with Pepe but I know there’s a few people who ship him with Zack—so congrats to you guys, you won the stars’ approval.

Lucas

Birthdate: November 28th

Sign: Sagittarius

Element: Fire

Overview: yall,,,, when I found out Lucas was a Saggy Titty I legitimately guffawed out loud. Lucas and Sagittarius is so funny.... because it’s so wrong. Saggy Titties are the definition of chaos, they’re brazen, impulsive, and constantly changing. Like think of a frat boy in a house full of beer and pool tables and hot girls and you get Sagittarius. This is why I have never met a Sagittarius I like—because they have frat boy energy, and even non-male Sagittariuses require wayyy too much energy for me to handle. I guess the only time Lucas really does act like a Sagittarius is in his childhood with Yuugo, and the way he’s a lot bolder and outgoing versus the quieter older Lucas we have now.

It is important to note that Lucas has been through a lot of trauma and lost a lot of comrades which could very well change the a person’s entire outlook and turn their personality 180 degrees—that could be a large factor, although on the flip side, Yuugo still fits his Capricorn sign even after going through what he’s been through. Different events affect different people differently. Lucas was most likely knocked entirely off his Sagittarius high-horse very quickly when he arrived in Goldy Pond. But if I had no prior knowledge of who he was beforehand, I very well might’ve pegged him a Leo like Emma or even another subtle Aries like Norman. So yes, he does indeed have fire energy, it’s just generally very lackluster and farrrr away from Sagittarius’ level.

Compatibility and ships: okay so I know the only Lucas ship with any weight to it in this fandom is Yuucas, and here’s the thing,,, A Sagittarius and Capricorn combo is the most horrifying fucking couple imaginable and I’m stan so hard. Realistically speaking, your Capricorns would try to put a leash on their Sagittariuses because man. I forgot to mention how childish Sagittariuses can be (though the frat boy comparison should’ve been a clue), and holy shit that poor Capricorn is gonna get ripped to shreds by their Sagittarius. Imagine like a super pompous cowboy trying to ride a furious bull that’s trying to buck him off like there’s no tomorrow. Capricorns are people who want complete control over themselves and their partners, while Sagittariuses,, Saggy Titties just want to see the world burn. Put them together and you could probably cause the End Times Apocalypse. But you know what? Good for them. I think Yuugo and Lucas love each other enough that the toxicity that comes with typical pairups with these two signs is about nonexistent between them. But I fully believe they could still destroy an entire planet and that’s valid of them to do so. Anyway moving on!

you wanna talk about another Sagittarius that makes absolutely no sense?

Paula

Birthdate: December 9th

Sign: Sagittarius

Element: Fire

Overview: My authors I am begging you, stop putting character birthdays in the Sagittarius zone you clearly don’t know what a Sagittarius is.

Since I refuse to acknowledge Paula as a Sagittarius, let’s talk about what sign she actually acts like because I said so. Paula’s a Virgo. Fight me Shirai. (Also im sus that shirai is virgophobic because where the fuck are my virgos. There’s like zero major characters that are virgos, and the characters that ARE don’t even act like virgos. I’m coming for your small intestine Shirai) so as earth signs, virgos are generally pretty resourceful and of course level-headed. They’re kinda shy and reserved, but they’re also very hard workers you can count on when you need to get a job done. Nary will you find a Virgo that procrastinates or attempts to weasel their way out of a mission they’ve been given. The unmovable earth in virgos shows through in how committed they are, and we can see all these traits in Paula. Though she’s a quieter member of the GP resistance, you can tell just how much of an asset she is to them. She doesn’t run, doesn’t lose her cool, and she’s good at pointing out important details.

Pls let me decide your characters’ birthdays for you Shirai I promise I am good at it.

Compatibility and ships: I guess, astrologically speaking, as a Sagittarius, Paula does fit pretty well with Sonya because she’s a Gemini. I actually know next to nothing about Paula ships but I do know she’s lesbian and her and Sonya are cute but I also ship her with Barbara because reasons don’t ask questions I WILL bite you anyway they’re compatible too because barb’s also a Gemini.

Lot of Geminis, don’t you think? Yes I do. Let’s talk about them.

Sonya and Sandy

Birthdates: June 3rd and May 22nd respectively

Signs: Gemini

Element: Air

Overview: these two are what I call the gemini twins bECAUSE THEYRE ALWAYS HANGING OUT AND ITS SO TRUE GEMINIS LOVE EACH OTHER BUT ALSO ITS SO WEIRD THAT WE GET ALONG. imagine like two of those one way mirrors facing each other where it just goes on and on and on for infinite mirror and that’s what two Geminis hanging out is like. Look, they’re literally thinking the same thing and it’s so great

Anyway there isn’t a whole lot of Sandy and Sonya content to go off of in the first place, but them being Geminis seems reasonable to me—at the very least they are indeed meant to get along well and they’re so in sync I could cry. Plus they’re pretty intuitive and able to think right on the spot as they’re facing Nous and Nouma (at least at first) My man Shirai also.. really likes Geminis for some reason because they keep popping up. So instead of one Spider-Man meme it looks more like this,

Compatibility and ships: not gonna dwell too long on this section because from previous ones you may already recall they’re compatible with each other and I guess with Paula as well as I must begrudgingly accept the fact that shes canonically a Sagittarius.

Pepe

Birthdate: February 19th

Sign: Pisces

Element: Water

Overview: so I mentioned before that water signs are at about the highest emotion level, which makes Pisces a very sensitive group like Cancers. But Pisces in general are known for being the kindest and most accepting people as well, which means they’re able to make a lot of friends very easily. They’re basically that one person you sat next to in class who started a conversation with you just to be nice. Now again, there’s not a whole lot of Pepe content to go off of, but we can tell he’s kind and loving to his friends and the other kids in GP. One thing I can mention is that Pisces usually are the one of the nosiest of the signs, and they get very bothered by lies and secrets (this is true for a lot of water signs, but Pisces are the worst in my experience) so we got this single piece that may have a little bit of the Pisces in Pepe showing:

Compatibility and ships: So as a Pisces, Pepe is only compatible with Oliver and Zack considering they’re also water signs. Everyone else is Fire and Air, funnily enough, but the Pepe ships with those two are super cute I think so it’s ok.

Zack

Birthdate: July 7th

Sign: Cancer

Element: Water

Overview: so do I think Zack fits his sign? Yes, in a way I do. I already went into Cancers when I explained Don, so quick recap: Cancers are some of the most sensitive and empathetic, so their loyalty to their loved ones is pretty close to on-par with an Aries. And while Zack isn’t as outwardly emotional as someone like Don, the Cancer in him shows up well in that he’s constantly taking extremely difficult missions he doesn’t want his friends to risk, and he shrugs off any injury to himself.

This might just be a me thing but almost every Cancer I’ve met has a habit of doing That. I am so concerned for their safety. I guess though, if I hadn’t known his sign beforehand, I 100% would’ve pegged him an Aries.

Compatibility and ships: I already went over this with Pepe, but Zack is compatible with Pepe and Oliver. Y’all ok listen to me. OT3. Make it happen. Between them they have every sign in the element of water. They’d be unstoppable.

Gillian

Birthdate: September 30th

Sign: Libra

Element: Air

Overview: here’s a fun one. So as I previously stated, air signs are usually out of tune with their emotions, but where that causes Aquariuses and Geminis to repress or hide them, Libras,,,, just dump them everywhere. Listen I know Libras are supposed to be the sign of the balance scales and they have a thing about the world being perfectly balanced which makes them more prone to revenge bUT ALSO. MY first and foremost takeaway from Libras is that they all suffer from Rich Bitch syndrome, in which they obsess over material items and every Libra has a thing about cute girly stuff change my mind. HOWEVER, they’re often very chaotic as well, the kinda Sagittarius of the Air signs. So like a super cute and seemingly fun girl who will probably murder you in your sleep.



I’m sorry I can’t take it I’ve been laughing at this for the past fifteen minutes it’s too funny. Anyway, Gillian’s Rich Bitch Syndrome appears through her fashion statement. Her PINS. omg. Gillian your Libra is showing.

Compatibility and ships: as a Libra Gillian is compatible with other Air signs (Aquarius, Gemini, Libra) as well as Fire signs (Aries, Sagittarius, Leo) but she’s most compatible with Aries and Sagittarius so—— Paula yes, but also Nigel because he’s an Aries! Speaking of Nigel,

Nigel

Birthdate: March 27th

Sign: Aries

Element: Fire

Overview: Aries Nigel doesn’t come as a surprise, let’s be real here. I delved into Aries before with Norman, so just as a recap: Aries are so intensely loyal to the ones they love and would do absolutely anything for them even at the cost of their lives, and this can make them prone to outbursts of anger and/or impulsivity. Here’s your one image of Aries Nigel, I don’t even have to explain:

Compatibility and ships: so I already said this but Nigel is at his most compatible with Gillian. Are there other Nigel ships?? Pls let me know I’m very curious.

Aw, it’s over now :(

I loved talking about the GP kids they fill the void in my heart. Now to move onto talking about the demons because the silliest idiot requested it and I am beyond ecstatic to spout pure headcanon bullshit. If you’re feelin excited then feel free to keep sending characters my way I will be happy to ramble about their canon zodiac or my headcanon for their zodiac

Edit: i forgot to link part 1 to anyone who wants it and doesn’t want to stalk my profile to find it

[searchingforenadi]

one step forward, two steps back

got slapped in the face by finals but we’re back again!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

the brief summary: Your customers won’t stop bleeding in your shop. You realize this might be a problem. (second person!OC, TYL).

xxii.

You gnaw at your pen, glaring at the figures in your notebook. 

Thanks to the rise in profits coming from a rather generous and possibly illegal source of customers, you’ve saved up enough to buy the electric mixer you’ve dreamed of. 

At the same time, your mom had sent you a link to a taiyaki maker last night, and now you are very conflicted. 

You can easily cover the cost of the taiyaki pan, plus the shipping, and have a lot leftover. In fact, it wouldn’t take much to recover the difference - you’d be ready to purchase that expensive, fancy mixer in no time at all.

But you’ve already waited so long for that mixer… !

A tan, scarred hand enters your line of sight, resting casually on top of your notebook. 

You blink, before raising your eyes. 

“Hey,” Yamamoto says, an easy grin on his lips. “I called for you a few times, but you looked pretty busy.”

The best way to respond, you think, is to act as if nothing has happened at all.

“Sorry,” you say, with a smile, and viciously stamp down on the mortification that you are slipping in your customer service. “The usual?”

“That’d be great,” Yamamoto says, laughter in his dark eyes. “What’s got you so distracted today?”

You consider your words as you cut a slice of tiramisu. How can you explain that your lust for taiyaki is so great, it’s hindering your ability to make your job easier?

“I’m stuck between getting two things,” you finally say, slipping the cake into a box. “I need one thing, but I really want the other. But I can’t get both at the same time.”

Yamamoto hums, exchanging some cash for the box of cake.

“You should just get what you need first,” he tells you seriously.

Your face drops instantly. 

Yamamoto covers his mouth with a fist. “Pffft!” 

Then, as if unable to hold it in anymore, he bursts into laughter. 

At this point, months after first meeting him, you are fairly certain Yamamoto will not stab you out of nowhere. 

Still, just in case (because you can still see the sword), you bravely endure the laughter.

“I’m, ha, I’m sorry,” Yamamoto finally says, once he’s recovered enough. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s okay,” you say, rather gracefully. “It happens to the best of us.”

Yamamoto laughs again, his free hand resting by his sides.

“I guess it does,” he says, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes, and adds, “But actually, if I were you, I’d get what I want.”

You eye him carefully. When it’s clear there will be no more outbursts of laughter, you diplomatically say, “I’ll take your advice into consideration.”

Yamamoto chuckles. “That’s fair.”

“Do what makes you happy,” he then says, a thoughtful smile on his face. “That’s what my dad taught me when I was younger.”

You don’t know if a taiyaki pan will make you happy, but you imagine it certainly wouldn’t make you sad.

“That makes sense,” you say, your smile relaxing. “Thanks.”

“Anytime!” Yamamoto says, waving a hand and exiting the shop.

You look down at the long string of numbers on your notebook.

“Do what makes me happy,” you mutter quietly.

xxiii.

You’re wiping down a table when the door swings open.

“One moment!” you call, stacking the leftover plates and turning to the register. It’s Gokudera, hands shoved into his pockets, tie hanging loosely around his neck. 

“Hi,” you say with a smile, walking around the counter and putting the plates down. “It’s good to see you again.”

Gokudera grunts, his eyes bloodshot and sunken. He slides over several bills.

“Two coffees,” he says, voice nearly cracking as if it hasn’t been used in days.

Instinct nearly has you getting started on the order, but you stop yourself just in time.

Instead, you look him up and down. No visible injuries, you note, but that’s what you thought last time and look what happened then.

Not blind to your casual inspection, Gokudera shifts slightly back, eyes narrowing. “What?”

You offer a smile. Mentioning your lack of faith in a possible gang member’s ability to stand up straight seems like a bad idea.

In a few minutes, you return back to the register and, before you pass over the drinks, you peer over the counter. 

You’re relieved to find that Gokudera’s legs, at least, are free of any knives.

You straighten and hand over the coffee to Gokudera, who seems like he’s visibly holding back several words.

“I’ll see you later,” you say pleasantly, swallowing down the ‘with your body in one piece, please,’ that follows. 

Gokudera clicks his tongue. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, as if he knows what you’re thinking, which you hope isn’t the case because that might mean you’re the one getting shanked next. 

Gokudera eyes you for a moment longer. Then, as if the past few minutes had never happened, he exits the shop, his slouched silhouette casting shadows through the windows.

You let out a puff of air. Running a hand through your hair, you dump your dishes in the sink and get started on preparing for rush hour.

xxiv.

You cough into the crook of your elbow, nose twitching from the excess flour in the air. An old headband your dad once gave you when you were twelve, when he found a piece of your hair in his birthday cake, rests on your forehead. 

“ - and then I punched him right in the jaw,” your dad says through the phone, his face uncomfortably close to the camera. “Just like how he deserved it.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, used to his old stories. Now, however, you’re far too aware of how much your dad might not have been exaggerating. “Did he get back up?”

You dad scoffs. “Of course not.”

You believe him, if only because your dad is built like a brick wall and somehow managed to not pass on any of genes onto you. 

There’s a rustle of fabric and some distant voice calling in the back. 

“And then I - what? Huh? Oh yeah, sure.”

“Your mom’s asking for you,” your dad then says, the camera wobbling in front of his face. Sternly, he asks, “But you’re hanging in alright?”

You smile. 

“Yeah, I am,” you say, even if it’s not completely true. You imagine that telling your dad about the possible gang in your area would only encourage him. “I’ll call you again later, okay, Dad?”

He grunts, but a wordless answer is still an answer. The phone switches to your mom, her eyes wrinkling at you.

“Would you look at that,” your mom says, in English. “You actually got started on Grandma’s recipe?”

You glance down at your hands, the mochi sticking to your fingers. Small clumps covered in flour line your wooden board. 

“It’s an ongoing process,” you try to say, switching to English just as easily. “I don’t have the right tools.”

“I can look around for those,” she says. “Your grandma might have extra.”

“That might help,” you say, although even with the right tools, you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to make mochi authentically. 

“She asks about you, you know,” your mom continues, almost distractedly. There’s some weird sort of rustle in the background. 

You pause.

“That’s nice,” you finally say, rolling another clump of mochi into a ball. From what you’ve heard, your grandma is a woman who has no patience for indecision - a terrifying thought, considering who you are, but you’ve never been able to find out for yourself. 

It suddenly occurs to you that your mom probably talks with your grandma more often than you realize.

Their conversations are likely all in Japanese, which makes sense, because your grandma can’t speak one bit of English. You once tried speaking to her when you were thirteen and was only able to stutter out a hesitant hello.

“I’ll let you know what she says,” your mom continues, a sharp click letting you know she’s taking a picture of you, through your dad’s phone, using her own phone. 

“Thanks,” you say, only to raise your head when someone knocks on your door. You check the time - it’s the early evening and you’re not expecting any visitors. “One second.”

(You’ve never actually had any visitors, really.)

You open the door, hesitantly, and peek out the door. There’s no one there, but at your doorstep, in a plain cardboard box, is - 

A noise escapes your throat.

You grab the box and shut the door behind you, before walking quickly to your dinner table. Snatching a pair of scissors, you rip open the box and, very gently, pull out a metal pan covered in plastic wrapping.

“Is that what I think it is?” your mom’s muffled voice rings through. 

You mumble out a response, unwrapping the taiyaki pan and holding it reverently in the air. 

“I’ve reached the pinnacle of my career,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. “Nothing can get better than this.”

“Oh, please,” your mom says. You can hear her rolling her eyes. “Just don’t go overboard with it, okay?”

“I would never,” you tell her assuredly. After all, you’re an adult with great impulse control -

xxv.

You swallow down your fourth taiyaki for the night and, almost guiltily, look down at your batter. 

It’s not the best you’ve ever had. Making taiyaki from scratch is, surprise surprise, not as straightforward as you would’ve hoped. 

Even worse, frying the batter is a whole other skill you’ll have to work on. It’s completely different from crepes and you were a fool think that they’d be the same.

The bigger problem, you think, is that you’re starting to get sick of using nutella as a filling. It’s not a bad substitute for red bean paste, but what you want - what you need is anko. 

It’s what you’re used to, what you used to eat with your mom after school on the way back home. It’s what you remember. 

But where the hell are you going to find anko, here, in the middle of Italy?

You grumble under your breath and clean up the taiyaki pan, packing away the leftover batter for tomorrow. 

The next day, early in the morning, you head over to the nearest grocery store. You’re not surprised to find that they, in fact, do not have anko. 

You try the next store, then the next, then even the local farmer’s market. 

It takes everything within you to push down the urge to scream. 

What will it take, you think, already calculating the costs of having a box of anko shipped over from overseas. 

It’ll get in the way of finally buying that electric mixer, but you’re not done chasing your childhood memories just yet.

xxv.

You spend the next few days furiously going over your options. Tragically enough, they’re rather limited.

You’re in the middle of looking up the cost of having azuki beans delivered to your doorstep - you’ll make the anko yourself if it gets down to it - when shadows dart across your floor. 

You glance to the side, tearing away from your notebook, and find Lambo, hovering right outside your front door. 

He seems - agitated. Or annoyed, even. By his side, with a stern face, stands Tsuna, arms folded and eyes narrowed. 

Very politely, you turn away from the apparent scolding and back to your numbers. You assume they’ll come in eventually if they want. 

You tap your fingers on the countertop. The thought of having to make your own anko is nerve wracking. You’d have to boil the beans, mash them up, add in sugar - the margin for error is as wide as the ocean. 

You start adding up the shipping fees anyways. As it turns out, your lust for taiyaki goes farther than you had originally anticipated. 

The door abruptly opens, sending a gust of wind through the air. You look up to see Lambo bursting into the store with gritted teeth. 

You stare at him, his shoulders set and tense, before slowly closing your notebook. 

Tsuna follows close by, handling the door much more gently, an apologetic grimace already on his face.

“Hi,” you say politely. At this point, you’re very familiar with Lambo’s tastes, so you also add, “We have raspberry cheesecake today.”

For a moment, Lambo’s eyes flash brightly - his hair, you notice, is more mangled than usual. You can almost see static running through the strands.

Then, you blink, and that moment is gone. Lambo’s shoulders relax slightly and he rests his hands behind his head.

“Cheesecake would be great,” he says, pointedly not looking in Tsuna’s direction. 

“Uh-huh,” you say, already pulling the cake from the display. Your eyes slide over to Tsuna, who offers a half-hearted smile. 

Yikes, you think, not envious of Tsuna’s position. You imagine his hands are quite full trying to handle someone like Lambo. 

You add in another slice without another word, packing them away into a cardboard box. 

“And for you?” you ask Tsuna. You pass the box over to Lambo, who accepts it with careful hands, a pleased smile on his face. 

Tsuna hesitates, visibly, and that’s when you remember the conversation that had started the previous fiasco.

You’ve survived this long because you’re a quick learner. So, you pull out your stash of dango and hand it over. 

“Consider it an apology for last time,” you tell him, when he tries to protest your sudden gift. You’re a business owner and that means you’re familiar with the concept of investment. 

“You really don’t have to,” Tsuna tries to say, awkwardly holding onto your tupperware. 

“It’s for my own conscience,” you answer. 

You’re determined to snag more well-paying regulars, so, with a smile, you add on, “One day, I’ll have something here you’ll definitely want to eat.”

Tsuna tightens his grip on the tupperware. He looks down at the packed dango, almost resignedly, before smiling warmly.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he tells you, handing over some cash for Lambo’s cake.

You turn to Lambo, who’s eyebrows have risen so high, they reach his hairline. “I’ll have some more for you tomorrow if you want.”

Lambo drags his eyes away from Tsuna to look at you.

“That would be great!” he says, a suspicious hint of something coloring his voice. You barely manage to stop the urge to squint at him. 

You’re giving Tsuna his change when your elbow accidently grazes your notebook. 

Like a lightbulb turning on in the dusty attic of your mind, you remember that your current customer is very Japanese. Maybe even delicately Japanese. Which means - 

You just might be able to find locally-sourced anko after all. 

Your mouth opens and closes. How are you going to ask? Would someone like Tsuna even know? Asking about ingredients is a pretty harmless subject, right?

Tsuna pauses. 

“Something the matter?” he asks mildly, hazel eyes studying you more carefully than before. 

Your hunger for proper taiyaki gives you the motivation you need.

“I’ve been looking for anko,” you say quickly, before your nerves get to you. “Do you know where I could get some?”

“Anko, huh?” Tsuna asks, saying the single word easily, like a native, like your mom. For a split-second, you envy his ease in the culture you’ve never chased.

He hums thoughtfully, shifting the tupperware to his side. 

“I’m not the one who usually grabs the groceries,” he thinks aloud, bringing a hand to his face. “I know we get a lot of Japanese products in the open market to the east.”

You blink, mind already scrambling to figure out where that might be. 

“Here,” Tsuna says, reaching inside his suit jacket and pulling out a pen. He gestures to your notebook. “Can I?”

“Uh, sure,” you say, flipping past your hastily written numbers and to a new page. 

WIth one hand still carrying your dango, Tsuna quickly sketches out the main roads and circles a spot to the east. He jots down more information on the side.

“They’re open Saturday mornings,” he tells you, pocketing his pen. “There’s a section there dedicated to selling East Asian products.”

You lift up your notebook and bring it closer to your face. You’ve never visited that side of the town before - you never had to. 

It’s a long walk from your apartment but this is more than what you could’ve hoped for. 

(You can almost taste the taiyaki from your childhood.)

“Thank you,” you say, lips curving into a smile and warmth filling your throat. “This is really helpful.”

“Uh,” Tsuna starts to say, before clearing his throat once. He smiles. “No problem. Anytime.”

They leave soon after. Tsuna takes long strides to the door and Lambo, suspiciously quiet, is a little too slow to hide the gleeful grin plastered on his face. The pair turn to the right toward your windows.

You smile when Tsuna ruffles Lambo’s hair. They seem to converse a moment longer before Tsuna lays out a hand. 

It’s nice, you think, watching as Lambo sighs before reaching into his pockets and pulling out a - 

Your smile remains frozen in place. 

There’s a flash of metal and Tsuna tucks the object away into his own suit. It’s done in one smooth action, as if it had never happened in the first place. 

They disappear into the streets not a moment later.

You’re just seeing things, you think to yourself, as another part of your mind screams bloody murder, because you’re pretty sure you just saw -  

Kids carry random things all the time, you then try to reason. It’s a trick of the light. You’re just seeing things. 

“I’m just seeing things,” you say, your voice cracking in the dead silence in your store. 

It’s easier to think that you’re losing your mind rather than the alternative, which is that your teenage regular has somehow gotten his hands on a bloody gun - 

The door opens to another customer. 

You give your customary greeting and, after politely asking for a moment, slink back into the kitchens. 

Snatching the nearest towel, you smash it against your face and let out a muffled scream. 

Then, as if nothing had happened, you toss the towel to the side and walk back to the front.

-o-o-o-o-o-

tsuna: lambo, what do u have there?

lambo: a gun! :D

tsuna: nO!

the title for today’s chapter comes from the success of having no blood (yay!) but instead, MC has to deal with teenagers handling illegal weapons (nay...).

‘anko’ is a very real filling that’s used in countless asian desserts. it means ‘red bean paste’ and made from azuki beans - it’s sweet and comes in different textures. 

‘taiyaki’ is a fried waffle dish shaped like a fish, and can have different fillings inside (ice cream, chocolate, anko). it’s made from a special pan to hold the mold together - it’s one of my favorite dishes and i have indeed done some unsavory things to get my hands on one hot off the press. 

we have all our main characters showing up today! you might even consider this a filler chapter, but in actuality we’re just building up to the next ‘main’ part. i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!

[philosophicalparadox]

🖊 🖊 (That means you can pick two!)

Sorry this took so long, it was hard to pick 2 out of 17!

So, I've chosen two are kind of one.

These OC have been around for ages and make a debut in Savages, though they began their journey in a short story I wrote known as Monstra Dei, (Monster of God) which has been discontinued.

These two are Gabriel and Allistar. (Be prepared for long post)

They are husbands, and also pair bonded through a ritual known as Shrouding. Demons don't do this often, because it's a soul binding bond. Should one perish, the other will as well. However it has benefits; as long as one is alive, the other can not die by ordinary means, since they share life energy. This applies to their bodies as well as their souls.

That's important to know for their debut in Savages, because it's the only reason Allistar, a nephilim, is still alive and young after 750 years, well beyond what even Nephilim can usually survive. He has lived so long and is still so young because Gabriel, Kin of Samael in this story, has the ability to freeze the effect of time on anything he touches. (He is also known as Midas thusly) He also feeds his mate with his energy, keeping him young and healthy forever.

But Allistar is not without his scars. He is albino, a rare thing for a rare breed, and his condition causes him constant pain. He is unable to eat as normal demons do and must depend on Gabriel for his very survival. He is functionally blind, as well.

Nonetheless he is a cold but kindred spirit, and has pioneered many tactics in demon healing to ensure the dying and decayed could rest in peace. Kage was once his pupil, and she gets much of her perspective on medicine from him.

Allistar once belonged to Samael, and depended upon his power. Samael in turn used Allistar, who bears the ability to manipulate light, to try and leverage Lucifer, who is his father. Gabriel seen this as a weakness on the part of his own "father", since a demon king should never rely on a slave, and fought him in order to free Allistar. For the second time in all of history, Gabriel won the fight (it was a draw, really, but in Gabriel's mind an opponent withdrawing is the same thing as defeat) and Allistar bound himself to Gabriel after convincing Samael to transfer the seal.

With me so far? Good.

Gabriel is a demon of extraordinary renown, of that there is no doubt. In spite of his appearance, his body was once actually one of Samael's own nephilim, granted to Gabriel in exchange for a favor. Gabriel's ability to freeze the flow of time can only be manifested onto physical things, but that is not the extent of his power. He is a demon which can freeze anything, usually in the form of ice. Ice weilding demons are uncommon, but among them all, Gabriel is king. His relation to Samael allows him some manipulation of space, allowing him to conjure ice or freezing temperatures onto any area of affect within his sight. What this means is that he is capable of summoning ice within the bodies of foes, ripping them apart from the inside out.

Only one suit of armor is thus equipped to defeat him, since normal armor offers zero defense; and Samael has this armor for that exact purpose.

Speaking of armor - the reason Gabriel has such a powerful reputation is because he is the only demon to have ever defeated Lucifer in a fight. He was able to do so in part because of very special plate armor that Haphestus crafted for him using Gabriel's own rib. The part of him within the armor meant Gabriel was able to infuse more of his power into it, rather than himself, basically performing a double possession and dividing the load his body would have to bear by half. Not only that, but Gabriel's armor, graced by the power of Midas, can never tarnish and is always mirror-like, reflecting light based attacks and reducing their damage immensely. However the double possession means that every strike wittles away his life force, chipping away at his soul.

Nonetheless his ability to shroud himself in mirror-finished panels of ice serves as an excellent defense against light based attack, and gives him time to use his weapon: the Herald Spear.

The Herald Spear is a much coveted weapon in the demon world, since it can never dull and perpetually self regenerates any broken parts by consuming and materializing it's master's energy. It also has the ability to change into any non projectile weapon that best suits its master. (Sword, spear, lance, trident, shield, glave, halberd, axe or hammer). Furthermore, while it is meant to channel Gabriel's energy, and is therefore perfect for ice elementals, it will accept any "fluid" energy type and obey/amplify the "Call" or "Herald" of its master 7 fold. This ability, known as simply "The Cry" is suited for 7 energy styles: Water, Ice, Fire, Lightning, Wind, Specter, and ironically Light.

To be clear, here we have a shape shifting weapon that cant be broken, dulled or hewn, which concentrates the energy of its weilder until it can unleash an attack 7x more powerful than normal. There's a reason every demon who wants to be somebody wants it, including Lucifer himself - if he could take it, that is.

As to the demon which inhabits this vessel, well, no one knows their name. But they are usually referred to as Galatine. (Yes, That Galatine from Arthurian Legend.)

As to the personality of Gabriel himself - well if you've ever read the fortune of the Moon tarot card, that's what he is based on, and Allistar the Star. Gabriel is optimistic, jovial, loyal, proud and stubborn, but also wears his heart on his sleeve and exudes an air of trustworthiness and honor. He is basically a knight, in his mind, defending the world's honor from those who seek to undermine her. He is also impulsive and indecisive at times, and is always changing his moral principles to suit the situation at hand, rather than having concrete ideals.

Allistar is cool and calm but respectful and wise. He is a natural leader and rarely ever panics or loses his composure. Unfortunately he's also incredibly static and unchanging in his principles, even to his own torment, unlike his mate, though that is something Gabriel actually respects him for.

Their relationship was a spontaneous, but perfectly harmonious one. And so long as Gabriel stands guard, Lucifer won't touch Allistar; and Samael can not negotiate with Gabriel as long as Allistar is by his side, since they know each other too well. Thus the power couple is left alone and kept well out of the way as often as possible.

;) I am so glad I got that off my chest. Thank you, asker!

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, RACHEL! You’ve been accepted for the role of GONERIL with an FC change to Katie McGrath. Admin Rosey: There are so many nuances to Grace that I think are difficult to capture -- her voice, her mannerisms are so unique to her but in the span of a single application you’ve been able to give us all that and more. Your plot points make me so excited for what is to come, while your paragraph sample had me head over heels for the Grace that you put in front of us. Veronesi, we finally have our Daly sisters gathered together and we’re ready for them to wreak havoc! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Rachel

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | Probably a 7/10? I’m on my computer a lot but it sometimes does take me a while to get through replies because I am a bit of a perfectionist. Inspiration comes in fits so there will definitely times when I rip through a ton of writing and others where is just isn’t coming as fast.

Timezone | PST

How did you find the rp?  | I’m pretty sure I saw a teaser for this when y’all were first starting/again when you revamped but I was not in a place where I had the time/energy to write as much as I wanted so I filed it away and then forgot about it until now, when I finally have the desire to get back into writing!

Current/Past RP Accounts | Whiskey Bishop (past)

IN CHARACTER

Character | Goneril / Grace Daly

What drew you to this character? | Grace wasn’t the character that first caught my eye, but boy did she keep it. I’m a sucker for bull-headed women and Grace’s self-centeredness and bloodlust really drew me in. Goneril canonically is kind of a righteous bitch, played much more one-dimensionally than I’d like; this is where I think the shades of Grace’s character really grab me. She’s ruthless but not reckless, cold not from an absence of love but from too much - Louis Daly’s principessa, first born, beloved, spoiled like milk left too long in the sun of her parents’ affection. This is what intrigues me most, and what I think will be the most difficult part of her to work through for me as a writer. I’ve written characters that are hardened because they had to be, but none that truly chose wickedness simply because they could…. I hope to draw out Grace’s self-confidence and self-centeredness and see how far personal gain can really get her. She’s very calculating but also impulsive; the second she sees an opportunity that benefits her and determines the ends justify the means, she’s all over it. It’s dichotomies like this that really capture me and I think it’ll be interesting to work out all the ways she’s human, despite her seeming attempts not to be.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | These turned into more of little character studies and possible engagements to further Grace’s character than specific plots - I’ve tried to condense the ideas at the start into more specific playable beats that could become direct interactions!

DOMINION: Playing the long game, working her way up to a power grab that consolidates to herself - what is step one? After all, everyone must start from the beginning…

There are three things Grace Daly is sure of: she was born, she will (eventually) die, and that she alone dictates her life. She’ll take direction, sure, but she knows what she wants. There is always, always something bigger, something better, just out of her reach, something she wants desperately to have. Maybe it’s a fault in how she was raised, never wanting for anything, but now - now she burns with righteous fire for that which is denied her: control. Grace is power-hungry and doesn’t care who knows it. She sold her soul to one devil and sold it again right out from under them when a better price arose. Traitor is too harsh of a word; call her opportunistic. If they look down on her now, well. Let that teach them to underestimate.

There will come a day when Grace will rule - not as a right hand, not as the shadow behind the throne - but as her own. This was a right she was born into, and one that she will claim. Her time with the Capulets was merely a step towards this goal, for how better to know your enemy than to have been amidst them? Now, one step forward, she aims her sights higher, looking to rise beyond that which has been set for her. She starts slow. First step: usurp her captain - a thing she sees as inevitable, with his penchant for drink and her particular brand of determination. She’ll do the grunt work, get her hands dirty like the rest - she will continue to do so even as captain, as advisor, as underboss, as boss herself. Henry is but a minor bump, easily smoothed over, easily moved beyond. She knows there is more for her in the Montagues than simply obeying him, and she will take her future with both hands.

FAMILY: What blood really stands between the sisters? How far is she willing to go - what acts against her own kin can she truly justify?

However much she claims indifference towards her sisters, they are her foils, in some ways. The blood shared between them is a regretful thing, nothing that compels her towards compassion, least of all love - still, Grace is reluctantly connected to them in name and in action. In some ways, the three sisters together make one whole person - Grace’s ruthlessness tempered by Catherine’s compassion; Regina’s apathy filled by Grace’s overconfidence; Catherine’s timidity balanced by Regina’s ability to get shit done. They compliment each other and highlight the others’ flaws in equal measure. Each is a product of the other and their shared home, however much they may want to distance themselves from it.

I would love to see Grade engaging with Regina and Catherine, as each draws out a different side of her. Regina inspires a jealousy in Grace that she is loathe to name - they inhabited in the same spaces, took to the life of the mob in equal footing, yet somehow Regina has pulled ahead of Grace, received recognition even without recognition - it infuriates her. Regina is a machine, dispassionate where Grace is cunning, engaged, though they both get the same results. Grace wants to be noticed, to be known, but there is a seductive quality to Regina’s invisibility, her strange innate ability to act just beyond everyone’s view. They are so similar - it seems like they are the same but Grace got oversaturated while Regina got drained. I can almost imagine them as children, Grace acting twice as large and loud to make up for her sister’s quiet nature, a feedback loop that kept them going on divergent paths to where they are now.

Catherine, on the other hand, seems like Grace’s polar opposite, yet they too are so similar. They operate on their own personal moral codes, though the ends their aim for are differing. Grace acts selfishly, Catherine selflessly - both aggressive in their approach, adamant in their own righteousness. Grace wanted a companion once she found Regina too quiet, saw her fire echoed in Catherine, but where she herself grew bottle sick on her parent’s love, Catherine drew it wholeheartedly into herself. I would love to draw out where their codes of personal honor clash, especially as it relates to Grace’s abdication to the Montagues - Catherine’s engagement with the Capulets rests on her sense of familial honor, but what is that worth now that her sister has (to many - never to Grace) dragged her name through the mud? How far does familial love stretch, for both of them?

If it came down to it, would Grace balk at enacting violence against her sisters? Would she be able to watch them die? Could she kill them herself, if it was asked of her? She talks a big game of disconnect, but I think that there is something about both of her sisters that tugs on a long buried part of her self-dedication, one that would make her question just what the means to an end entailed.

BLAME: Shouldering glory is easy, comfortable - what will happen when she has to take on the mantle of blame?

While external interpretations of honor mean almost nothing to Grace, she absolutely must stay well respected for her ability to get results. What would happen if she majorly messed up a job, or let herself be compromised, or something of the sort? If she causes unintended ruin that does not further her own goals? She doesn’t care about anyone’s trust (is there anyone that merits having hers?), but having fallen out of whatever trust is associated with getting results would, I think, really rattle her. Having to prove herself again, and again, and again, because of a stupid mistake, or consideration for an action ceased just a moment too soon - it would infuriate her. Would it turn her to a self-distrusting, indecisive figure (which she’s seen all too clearly in Henry)? Likely not, but it certainly would heighten her scrupulous calculation for her actions. She still acts on instinct, but with an extra second or two of hesitation that wasn’t there before, moments that could serve as the killing blow to all that she’s worked for.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes! Grace has totally made some enemies and I’d honestly be surprised if nobody tried to hurt her.

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

When one wants a job done, one comes to Grace Daly. Her hands are dirty, drenched in years of sin she will never - needs never - absolve. She looked death in the face years ago and smiled, sharp, welcoming the inevitable as violence settled itself around her shoulders like a cloak. A weight that to some seems unbearable, crushing them down, is to her an extension of herself, something always meant to compliment whatever goodness was passed to her from her parents. Like civet balances the sweetness of perfume, so blood fortified Grace’s bright resolve.

She cannot complain about her work for the Montagues - being the muscle is fun, in a sickening way, acting enforcer of the laws of the streets. Even as she rose above simple soldier, Grace was not averse to dipping her hands back into the muck. If you need something done, do it yourself.

Disturbances in the ranks, a supplier stepping too far over the line - who better to quash it than the turncoat herself? Her reputation precedes her, in many ways, and more often than not she can beat out the kinks without much trouble.

[ For every few jobs done right, there is one that goes wrong. No, nothing is every truly wrong, irredeemably broken, just more difficult, the wrong sort of spectre arriving before her to the scene. ]

The man before her had spat at her - traitor, puttana crudele, perché dovrei ascoltarti? - so confident in her degradation that he presumed a rank above that simply was not there. What choice did Grace have but to put him in his place, then? This was why she had been sent to him, after all - one too many missteps, just enough hubris to be considered insubordination. A shipping contact, a nobody, someone that never should have registered beyond the receipt of goods on time. He fancied himself something more, and in doing so outstepped his utility. When an ox can no longer pull the plough, carry what is required of it, the farmer does not coddle it in its useless state. Why then should anything else be expected for such a pawn as this? When something no longer works, it is gotten rid of.

                                              Put down.

She spares him no moment for negotiation - what little regard she could have had was dissipated from the start with the smoke from the bridges his words burnt. She does not draw it out. He does not deserve her time, though there is no want for effort. Just as he did not respect her status, he does not expect such savagery from so small a person, let alone a fallen woman, too blinded by his overconfidence to see that she is the knife up the sleeve that slides, smooth, between your ribs. Her first blow changes his tune, but she is better than him in all ways and makes it clear.

Broken, bloodied, he lies crumpled at her feet, a swift dispatching of rightful vengeance turned his words from barbs to pleas, begging for one last chance, empty promises of a return to clean ranks and subordination. To her, these mean nothing. Perhaps words of supplication may work on a lesser man, but this was how Grace Daly gained her name. Ruthless, frigid, no words cracked her polished exterior. Her hands were stained, bloody, and she did not bother to clean them.

One final kick in the ribs. He turns his face to her, hands rising to beg, and something in her eyes stills him. Her patience is wearing thin. His judgement has been meted out, to be executed at her hand. This - suddenly, terribly - the man knows.

She smiles as his frantic murmurs turn to prayer, the last plea of a dying man.Desperately calling to a god that would not hear, spilling the name of the one present. Ave Maria, gratia plena -

Her smile was a slow, twisted thing, sharp and cruel and tight, measured like the raising of a gun -                                     gratia plena                                                           - like the pulling of a trigger.

                                    - Gratia -

In the sudden silence she stands, angel of death come to collect. They will get their absolution, she thinks, turning away. But who said this god was kind?

Extras:

Character tag

Aesthetics: sunsets like a bruise, the glow of a cigarette cherry in a dark alley, meticulously organized desks, chrome, red lipstick, steel-toed boots, blood oranges and ruby red grapefruits, stilettos (the dagger and the shoes), silk slips and leather overlay, amber, teeth bloody from a split lip, lily of the valley perfume, to-do lists, silver jewelry, fingernails clipped short.

*I’d also like to request here a FC change to either Katie McGrath or Crystal Reed - I know they have more resources than Valeriia (though her face is very striking!) & also I think they both (Katie especially) look more like the actresses that are faces for Regina and Catherine… I’m happy to chat about this, or have y'all pick between the two for who you’d like to see most on the dash, whichever is best!

[lizard-wanderer]

D&D Class Personality - Nesh

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽   »   toothy grins, stories around the campfire, clothes covered in pet hair, hot temper, old jeans, heartbeat in head, potatoes and steak, beaded jewelry, bruises like galaxies, mementos, backpack stuffed full, craigslist furniture, spontaneous road trips, air ripped from lungs

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙳   »   homemade bread, white lies, easily excited, trying on hats, band geek, pep talks, no impulse control, sunsets, vintage fashion, long showers, selfies, following dreams, rosy cheeks, song mash-ups, pink lemonade with tequila, loves easily, animated storyteller, full of comebacks

𝙲𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲   »   list of wishes, biting their tongue, band-aids and neosporin, shoulder to cry on, morning sun, necklaces, trial and error, homemade quilts, formal clothing, astrology fan, messages in bottles, pleated braids, speaking up for friends, feathers, motivational quotes, vivid dreams

𝙳𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙳   »   bird watching, shy kid, wind chimes, trying to whistle, summer camp, apple orchards, lost in their head, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, hoodies, thrift shopping, saving worms off the sidewalk, pig latin, bare feet, thunderstorms, numb fingers, braided hair, naming potted plants

𝙵𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁   »   goosebumps, leather jackets, adventure, chewing nails, cares deeply but can’t show it, bronze locks, no sleep, taste of iron, netflix binges, never forgets, combat boots, stories behind scars, table for one, official soundtracks, sore calves, trusts themselves the most

𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙺   »   always trying to be better, wanderlust, meditation, sweat pants, old   photographs, yoga, sleeping in hammocks, nostalgia, minimalist design, a breath of fresh air, baby animals, volunteering, perfectionist, doesn’t care about fashion, healthy snacks, noticing the little things

𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽   »   school uniforms, thick jackets, sleeping with the windows open, logical advice, scrapbooking, compasses, i fight for my friends, sculpture gardens, cold morning air, big soul, likes routine, secret romantic, last to get jokes, sunflowers, practical presents, misty weather

𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁   »   herbal tea, smell of rain, blinking away tears, camping trips, collecting bones, swiss army knives, first impressions, anxious thoughts, bobby pins, burnt marshmallows, too competitive, clothes lines, messenger bags, holding grudges, gets along better with animals than people

𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴   »   flirtatious sarcasm, candid photos, lost phone chargers, adrenaline rush, picking dirt out from beneath their nails, social chameleon, clashing clothes, self-deprecating jokes, claw machines, sits in chairs wrong, smudged eyeliner, has too many sunglasses, eats nothing or everything

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚁   »   infectious laugh, family trees, shivers down their spine, lipstick and roses, mood swings, clumsy, believing in destiny, high expectations, sleeping in darkness, collection of nail polish, passionate, good grades but never studies, poetry books, blowing kisses, not knowing their own strength

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺   »   knowing everyone’s secrets, backpack covered in pins, envy, being in walmart late at night, earl grey, selective memory, conspiracy theories and cryptids, key smashing, need to know basis, can’t cook, bags under eyes, experimental art, flickering bulbs, black clothing all year long

𝚆𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚁𝙳   »   piles of textbooks, cat in lap, keeping a diary, indecision, scented candles, studying alone in a café, lingering touches, museum dates, unanswered questions, taking on too much responsibility, collections, chalk dust, comfy robes, unnecessary apologies, coming home after a long day

So as is usual I am late to do anything, because I am a fool! Tagged by the wonderful @mai-takeda​ thank you very much! 

I wont tag anyone becasue i’m so late, but if yo uwant to do it lemme know! UwU

[forehead-enthusiast]

A Buncha Tag Games (and yet not all of them)

tagged by: @eggyukhei mwah

tagging: this is a LOT of games so i’ll only tag @atinyphobe @nsheetee and @veonjun for the SECOND (2nd) game. if they or anybody wants to do any of the other games, absolutely go for it and say i tagged you <3 i’d love to see what you guys say!! (also, tk if you felt like you wanted to answer my questions from the second game i’d be interested to see!)

One:

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

ok SO the song that probably got me into rv 100% (also yes ik this blog is 99% nct but rv is my forever fave no question) was probably ice cream cake!! i had been a casual listener of many groups up until that point and had never really stanned anyone, but icc was so infectious i found myself watching it over and over. i had heard happiness and be natural before but hadn’t really listened too closely, so icc was the song that captured me. after that, dumb dumb only cemented my love for them more, and the red is still one of my favorite kpop albums to date. rv attracted me primarily because of their incredible vocals and their versatility in genres and concepts. i still get so excited wondering what they’ll tackle next!! they’re just soooo unique and have one of, if not the best discographies of any group. i cannot stress enough, I. Love. RV!! also they’re funny and gay so. anyway stream monster once it drops uwu

Two:

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

1. what is your favorite song that’s been released during quarantine? ooooo honestly??? probably something off of Sawayama. literally every song bangs so hard i highly recommend that album to anyone!! i can’t pick a favorite off it but who’s gonna save you now is awesome and xs is just,,, chef’s kiss

2. what is your greatest mishap when you tried cooking? (or something you’ve witnessed) one time, while making soup at my late grandmother’s house on her like gas stove, i put a lid on a pot and somehow that led the pot to be engulfed in flames. IN MY DEFENSE i was like 7, and i’m great at cooking/baking now

3. what’s your go-to outfit or article of clothing? oh i love a nice dress. they can be casual or formal, and you look like you put effort into your outfit except i didn’t because i didn’t have to match anything yo!!!! also shorts have trouble fitting me cause i’m a weird body type so dresses tend to be very comfy for me

4. what is your comfort food? am i allowed to say like all food??? eating in itself is comforting,,, that sounds depressing but also i just like eating yummy food. i guess i’d say like my dad’s fried rice?? its my fave and no one makes it like him soooo

5. what singular moment in your life would you like to relive? i couldn’t tell if this meant like, a good moment you want to re-experience or go back in time and redo a moment and fix it. it’s kind of a hard question so i might cop out and go with a bit of a silly answer: i want to relive the hi touch with astro...... i wanna look at rocky’s beautiful eyes and touch moonbin’s hand ok,,,,

6. what is your favorite line and/or character from a movie, show, or book? i got a bunch but a few off the top of my head are genie lo (the epic crush of genie lo), ty lee, suki (atla), klaus, and ben (umbrella academy) 

7. if you could only choose one ice cream flavor and pizza topping/style for the rest of your life, what would it be? ice cream flavor: this very specific one from a local store that is banana ice cream with strawberries and oreo mixed in. it is heaaaavenly. as for pizza topping, i love a breakfast type pizza with an egg on top and like sausage and stuff!!!

8. what is the worst injury you’ve ever had or witnessed? funny enough, i’ve actually gotten badly injured quite a few times, and always on the face!! god hates me. the worst was probably when i hit a metal bench with my face and it took a chunk out of my cheek. i still have the scar! as for “witnessed” i accidentally broke a grown man’s rib once as a child, so i guess that would count.

9. would you rather explore the unknown of space or the bottom of the ocean? oceaaaan!! i answered this in some other game, but i like how mysterious and yet close the ocean is. like proximity wise it’s so near, yet there’s an insane amount we know nothing about. that’s so frightening but so intriguing

10. if you could be any cartoon character, who would you be? my first thought was literally “kirby. eat fast” GOD my followers are gonna think i’m just a glutton and they’re not even gonna be wrong im dying. but uhh idk mulan or smth?

my questions:

what is your go-to feel good movie?

are you the type of person who’s indecisive about buying, or the type to impulse buy once you see something you like?

do you prefer chocolate-y or fruity candy?

what idol do you think is most similar to you? (not your bias necessarily)

do you have any silly dealbreakers? if so, what are they?

what do you do to unwind?

what is a small thing you like to do for people you love? (be it sending memes, remembering their favorite shows, etc)

what’s/who’s your favorite myth/mythological being?

what is a non-typical pet you would want to have?

do you say pronounce data as day-ta or dah-ta?

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people. 

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

FOUR

the ultimate tag: answer whichever ones you want to because there are a lot and then tag a few blogs you’d like to get to know better! 

PERSONAL

name: sarah

nickname: bells

birthday: april 17th

zodiac: aries

nationality: chinese american

languages: english, some spanish, some korean

gender: female

sexuality: baby bi bi bi~

height: 5′10

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: i suppose nct since i write for them the most?? but i feel like sometimes i come up with the idea before i think of a member so sometimes the muse is just my own fantasies oops

meaning behind my url: i made it at a time where loads of idols were getting bangs and honestly i believe most of them look infinitely better without them, thus i was and still am enthusiastic about foreheads.

blog established: like winter of 2018...?? i think

followers: over 2.5k but most deactivated/left during my hiatus lol

FAVORITES

favourite animals: sharks, chickens, snakes, cats, penguins

favourite books: the epic crush of genie lo and then iron will of genie lo, PERIOD

favourite colour: pink and purple!!

favourite fictional characters: lol, again, genie lo, ty lee, suki, klaus, ben, and just a few more: richard and evelyn o’connell (the mummy), dave (dave), michael (the good place)

favourite flower: sunflower

favourite scent: baking chocolate, heating butter, blackberry, wisteria

favourite season: probably spring! i like warmth but not HEAT

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: ugh idek i sleep horribly

cats or dogs: both, but unfortunately i’ve never had either

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea but then hot chocolate

current time: 5:29pm

dream trip: go to paris and eat loads of pastries and enjoy the fashions and beauty of the city, and also learn to bake better maybe?

dream job: actress

hobbies: making jewelry, drawing, singing, reading comics

hogwarts house: according to the quizzes, all of them. people who have just met me think slytherin or gryffindor, people who i’m friends with think ravenclaw or hufflepuff, people who know me really well know you can’t box a person into oversimplified archetypes :’) in my assessment of myself, it varies by the day, but i think perhaps gryffindor today?

last movie watched: hot fuzz (a classic)

last song listened to: summer breeze by sf9

no. of blankets you sleep with: like 2

random fact(s): i won lego building competitions as a child, one of my dream roles is anastasia from the musical named after her, i played violin for a very short time, i bake the cakes for all my family and friends’ birthdays, i have strangely strong grip strength

SIX

10 songs i can’t stop listening to:

love me 4 me- rina sawayama

cherry- rina sawayama

in & out- red velvet

crush culture- conan gray

manic- conan gray

the king- conan gray

summer- pentagon

told you now- jeremy jordan (originally sung by sam smith)

fuck this world (interlude)- rina sawayama

someone who loves me- sara bareilles

[meshkol-creations]

Day 17 of Kinktober 2019: Scars

Tags: scars, what the fuck even is this, self-esteem issues

Pairing: Stony

Notes: Day seventeen. Kill me. Not slowly, but immediately. As fast as possible. Because there is something wrong with my brain. What the fuck is wrong with me? This isn't even kink. What the fuck.

*

Tony’s a confident man, except he isn’t.

He knows his strengths – engineering, pleasuring someone in the bedroom, science, charming a crowd, mathematics, fashion, robotics, machines, international and domestic law, obscure Star Trek trivia – and weaknesses – his own self-worth, mostly, which bleeds into literally everything in his entire life whether he shows it or not – to the point where it’s definitely a science. He knows how to avoid his weaknesses, or at least put up a good mask so he can obfuscate the issue, and how to emphasise his strengths, and the result is pretty glamourous and powerful. He’s good at that, from a long life of careful practise starting from childhood with Howard, and even though his reputation has taken hits from very public past mistakes, he’s ultimately an infinitely fascinating, ridiculously blunt monolith in his public life, and a familiar, predictable presence in his personal one (for better or worse).

Still, Tony looks at Steve – perfect, handsome, all-American poster boy Steven Grant Rogers – and is paralysed with indecision.

Tony’s not shy in things like this. He’s infamous for his pre-Iron Man days as a serial bedwarmer, and infamous for his post-Iron Man days as an almost-serial monogamist always looking for that special someone. Sure, half of the people he thinks are that special someone end up trying to steal his company or straight-up attempting to assassinate him, and the ones who don’t end up leaving him or dying. Despite all the bitterness and downright trauma in the past, though, Tony has never stopped trying to find that person, desperately wanting to give everything he is to someone else in exchange for love. He just wants to love someone and be loved in return, wants to put in the work and make it long-lasting, wants to have a true partner in all things.

Along that vein, he isn’t shy in bed. Sure, in the past he hadn’t been able to take off his shirt or truly hold someone because of the plate, but since he’d developed the RT and it had been revealed in Congress, he’s been allowed to be open about it to anyone who he’s brought into his bed. And yeah, there’s a little bit of insecurity because he’d had scars and burns and twisted bones and knotted joints and a fucking battery in his chest, and yeah Extremis had wiped a lot of that clean until the Iron Man gig had started working its magic again (not to mention that the scarring from the RT never goes away), but at the end of the day, he’s good-looking and smart and open-minded and compassionate and wealthy, so he’s always been able to swallow that insecurity on the first roll in the hay because it didn’t matter. The people he took to bed and let into his heart weren’t perfect either, and he’d felt a lot of kinship with that.

Steve, though—Steve is different.

Steve is perfect.

Steve is genetically engineered to be perfect.

He doesn’t have scars or burns or twisted bones or knotted joints, not anymore at least, and he certainly doesn’t have an unsightly hunk of glowing metal deep within his chest cavity, fucking with his oxygen intake and hurting every second of every day. He’s not missing ribs and his sternum still exists in his chest, not to mention completely whole lungs that are capable of taking in deep and even breaths.

No, Steve’s perfect, not a single imperfection on that glorious body of his, and what’s worse, he’s perfect inside too. He’s moral and virtuous and strong and natural, six-foot-two of charismatic and earnest goodness, and Tony’s just not. He’s not. He’s imperfect and scarred, both inside and out, and there’s no erasing that – he’s insecure and desperately lonely and terrified of everything and he hates himself sometimes, he really, really does, and he just can’t compare to someone like Steve. Everyone who he tries to make something with, tries to have a future with, either goes bad or hurts him, and he’s so afraid that he’ll ruin their friendship again because of scars from the past.

“Tony,” Steve says, so gorgeous and unmarred in a SHIELD-regulation, glistening black suit, so different from the Captain America regalia that he’d worn with pride. “What is it?” he asks, quiet and inquisitive, those eyes so fucking blue as he watches Tony. There’s a spark of unease in his eyes, and Tony’s not sure if it’s because he’s afraid he crossed a line by kissing Tony out of the blue or if it’s because Tony’s completely frozen, barely even able to breathe because his throat keeps working at words that aren’t forthcoming.

He wants to say that nothing’s up, that everything’s good but he’s just surprised, that he’s just tired and not running on all cylinders, but instead, what comes out of his mouth is: “I don’t understand.”

“What’s so hard to understand?” Steve questions, and there’s a genuine ring of confusion in his tone. “I know we’ve had our...differences—”

“Very high-profile, literally fatal differences,” Tony mumbles.

“—in the past, but we’re okay now. At least, I thought we were,” Steve continues, ignoring Tony’s comment. Which, admittedly, is probably a good thing. Tony needs to learn to shut his goddamn mouth.

“We’re okay,” Tony says after a pause, “but I don’t understand.”

“It’s not hard to understand,” Steve says gently, reaching out to ghost his fingers along the back of Tony’s scarred, worn hand. Tony swallows the moan and fights the urge to flinch back, because Steve’s looking at him so earnestly that it’s impossible to not maintain eye contact, every iota of his focus set on Steve. Impossibly, so fucking impossibly, Steve murmurs, “I love you, Tony. I’ve loved you for years, and I’m exhausted from trying to keep my distance from you. Holding this in is killing me, and I can’t do it anymore. Maybe it’s not reciprocated and I’m overstepping, and I promise that I’ll keep my distance if that’s the case, but I just—I wanted you to know, on the off-chance that...that maybe we can...” He trails off, fingers stroking so softly that it tickles, and when he traces a soldering iron burn on Tony’s hand, his skin ripples with gooseflesh.

Tony’s throat works, trying to come up with words that make sense, because nothing makes sense right now. Steve can’t love Tony – Tony’s fought him, so many times, on everything, and there’s nothing that Steve can love about him. He’s more scar tissue than man, and someone as large and perfect as Steve Rogers just doesn’t mesh with someone as battered and jaded as Tony. It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t—

“You can’t love me – I’m me and you’re you,” he croaks, and he doesn’t even realise that the words have ripped from his throat until he’s flinching with self-inflicted surprise.

A ghost of a smile pulls at those shapely lips. “And what does that mean, exactly? An amazing man who gives everything he has to what he believes is right, even if I don’t agree with it, and always fights when people tell him to sit down and be silent? A brilliant man who will work himself to the bone, sometimes literally, for the chance to make this world a better place and protect those who are unable to do so themselves? A generous man who employs people who would die for you and your vision, who are fed and medically insured and have enough money to go on wild vacations that you pay for? A handsome man who takes my breath away the second you come into a room, or even when I so much as think about you?”

“No,” Tony rasps, his voice full of bitterness. “A man who will never fit.”

The smile widens, a soft curve on that handsome, chiselled face. “You’ve always fit. Maybe not with capitalist politicians and maybe not with your solutions to a problem when we’re on the field, but you’ve always fit me. You make me better. You taught me to not act impulsively and take stock of every opinion, and you taught me how to compromise. You gave me your off-switch, Tony, and in exchange, you fill in every crack and hole and scar I have and make it hurt less.”

“You don’t have scars,” Tony whispers, closing his eyes because he’s afraid that the burning behind his eyes will give away how fucking scared he is. “Look at you. You’re perfect.”

There’s a long pause, and then Steve says gently, “The serum might heal me physically, but I am no less scarred for it. You know me better than that, I know you do. You need to separate yourself from the publicity hype and the overdramatised nonsense your horrible excuse for a father drilled into your head and remember exactly how often we’ve butted heads to realise that I’m not perfect, that I have so many issues that shrinks would earn millions to psychoanalyse. And besides, I love your scars – it tells your story, about how hard you work for others so their lives can be better, how hard you’ve fought and how you’ve survived it. You’re beautiful, Tony Stark, and I love every piece and every scar and every hurt you carry, because it shows just how strong you really are.”

Tony’s face crumples, and Steve pushes himself off the barstool he’s sat on so he can pull him close, burying Tony into his chest. God, he’s all over the place, half terrified and half overwhelmed, and he says through his silent tears, voice choked with emotion, “I don’t want to ruin you.”

“I can do that just fine by myself, thanks,” Steve says, and even though Tony knows it’s a joke, it’s so damn soft and gentle. Steve strokes his hair and adds in a breathless exhale, “Please Tony, tell me I’m not reading too much into this, tell me that we can build something special.”

Tony pulls away just enough to wipe his face with his sleeve, feeling raw and lightheaded all at once, and looks Steve straight in the eye. “Okay,” he says, and hopes feverishly that he’s not making the wrong choice, because he doesn’t want to ruin the good thing they have going post-Registration.

Steve smiles, bright and almost wild, and says with obvious awe, “Wow. Wow.”

“Oh my God,” Tony says wetly, almost choking on the slightly hysterical laugh that bursts from his throat, and then presses close, slanting his lips on Steve’s and kissing him with every gram of emotion he’s kept repressed for over a decade, every speck of love and wonder and happiness he can possible push into it.

Tony isn’t a confident man, but he supposes that’s the point, allowing someone to see that damage and fill up the scars until they don’t ache with every breath, and doing the same for the person they love. It’s a fundamental part of love, and fuck, but Tony hopes he doesn’t fuck this up, because he’s always known that Steve was it for him, and had never allowed himself to try for something more than a deep friendship because of his own inadequacies and fear and self-loathing. He hopes that they can make this work, that Tony can be everything Steve needs and not drive him away, because he can’t survive that. He can’t.

God, he hopes.

---

Also read on ao3.

[royal-writer]

Confession

“how many love admissions do you need, Tiffany?” “yes.”

---

A friend had told her once never to be careless with her heart. She could never grasp the drifting sorrow ringing in their words, or the woes of their wandering eyes. It never made a difference to her. While others could lack a merciful heart, her own was always overflowing with it. The world wasn’t always kind, but she could be.

He made her more reckless. More impulsive than all the rest. Years of travel and hundreds of faces she passed, and suddenly the shade of indigo that painted his eyes was the first color she’d ever seen. It was unnerving. How could someone so filled with promise and amiability loathe themselves so much? For every step she took towards comforting his weary aching soul, he took two steps back. He was determined to despise himself and be despised.

In the end she had to run to keep up with him. Never once did she realize that for the first time, she was racing towards something and not away. Never understanding what the consequences could mean.

She struggled with indecision. His hands twisted in hers, the rough calluses of his palms and curling fingers unbearably gentle as he held her steady. She’d forgotten what steady felt like. She’d forgotten in the hollow emptiness that had taken refuge in her lonely soul what it was like to be warm. She’d forgotten the feeling of home which was a synonym for so much more.

Regardless of the butterflies in her stomach, she couldn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t dare.

But he was patient. Waiting with a silence more suffocating than soot and ash.

She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips with her faraway gaze seeing nothing in the horizon for her. “You are a nobleman, born of class and greatness,” she muttered. “I am born from nothing.”

He had the nerve to laugh. Even strained and husky, it was a beautiful sound.

“I am stripped of my title, and therefore as much a commoner as you are,” he corrected her; voice softening as he continued, “I am worth no more than you because of my heritage. And you did not come from nothing. That’s like saying those who came before you were nothing.”

Unconsciously, she winced. It was like being struck by common sense. She had personally thrown her ancestry; and more importantly her mother, under the carriage with that statement.

“You forget what I am, then,” she countered.

“I don’t care that you’re a Yuan-Ti, Essätha. That doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change my feelings towards you, and it doesn’t change who you are.”

“I’ve stolen things before. Hurt people. I’ve…”

He squeezed her hands as her voice wavered, speaking in a hush, “You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive. Who am I to judge you for that, with all I’ve done?”

Her voice wanted to rise in objection, but she bit her tongue. The only mistake he’d ever committed was a sin he bore heavily on his shoulders all his life. A child’s frightened accident. A young man who only wanted to escape. He had one hard stare lingering in his shadow most of his life, and now had another taunting before him.

But it was not a subject she enjoyed bringing up; dragging him back down into that crater that she took so long to help pull him out of. Sometimes he still sank back quietly in, and there was nothing she could do but offer a hand he wouldn’t take. She waited though, as long as it took for him to reach out and allow her to guide him back out.

She avoided the abyss by throwing another curve-ball at him: “People are going to say things.”

He scoffed. “Why would I care what anyone says? Aren’t you the one who said something akin to: ‘the only voices that matter are the ones we allow in our lives’?”

“M’lord,” she mumbled weakly. She felt helpless. Frankly, she was shocked too at his endless persistence.

He shivered in response to his title mouthed from her lips so softly. She could just barely feel it through his hands wrapped in hers. The grip he held on her loosened gradually.

“You doubt my authenticity?”

He sounded hurt and disappointed. She hated that wounded tone in his voice; and she hated even more that she was causing it.

She exhaled in a lengthy breath. “It’s not you that worries me, m’lord Amon,” she whispered, gazing to the front of his jerkin now. “I’ve… I’ve never committed to anyone in my life. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want my misdeeds or what I am to cause you judgment. I don’t want the darkness follows me to entangle you-”

“Essie,” the nobleman gently shushed her, quieting her ramblings. The pull of his voice was the moon, and she was the tide reaching for him.

“Those are assumptions. You’re trying to see the worst out of a situation that might be,” he swallowed; his voice thickening, “… beautiful. Something precious and new. And I, for one, don’t believe for a second that you; so full of light and kindness, would sabotage what we could have together. As… us.”

“If you don’t want me, tell me now,” he almost begged with hoarseness lacing his pleading. “If I’m not part of your future; something you seek, someone you dream about when you lay your head to rest, tell me now. I don’t want to pursue you if you aren’t willing. I don’t want you to grow loathing me for wanting. I would rather call you a friend, and be satisfied with having you in my life in some way, then to make you uncomfortable. If now is not the time you envision, I can wait as long as you need me to.”

“I couldn’t go on this life not expressing how I feel about you. You are a remarkable woman; strong, sweet, and determined. When I’m around you, I feel more whole and happy then I’ve felt most of my life. I’m charmed by your humor, awed by your grace, and enamored by your beauty; inside and out.”

“It fills me with pride to have walked alongside you on this journey, and I pray there’s much more to come. It amazes me that someone as gentle as you could care about someone like me, but I’ve never been so humbled and honored. Being with you has given me the will be be brave; as brave as you. I’ve never felt more sure of myself then when I say that I love you, Essätha. And I would be over the moon to prove to you, each and every day, just how special and cherished you are to me, if you’ll have me.”

Her heart hammered against her ribcage rapidly. His admission was sensitive and thoughtful, and made her inside quiver and melt. She was overcome by the sensation of weightlessness, or how the world seemed muffled like she had stuffed her ears to quiet it. Her head rang, her hands felt clammy, and she was acutely aware of his eyes on her.

He made her feel wanted, but it was more than that. When he spoke, he was assured in himself. Confident in his affection, comfortable in his touch and how he handled her. She was not just any maiden, and she was no damsel, and he treated her as neither. She was respected, and treasured, and listened to. He believed in her when she doubted. He longed for her bubbly joy and witty jests and smile in the same ways she craved his own.

She loved him unconditionally, but could she be enough? Was he worth it, putting her fragility on the line for him?

Her nobleman whispered her name once more, gently and filled with devotion. He was the tide now, and she was daring to step her toes in by raising her eyes. Directly into the ocean she tumbled; struggling, trying to catch her breath as the tenderness in the depths of his gaze pulled her down. Deeper and deeper she succumbed, motionless, unsure if she should struggle or allow finality to claim her.

Her lungs dragged for air. The air was warm. His smile was small but endearingly considerate.

She accepted the vastness of the ocean surrounding her; a safe and reclusive fortress. She accepted the sunlight filtering high above, the ripping water, the currents, the seagulls and sealife. She accepted the ebbing of the world around her. Never quite the same; rapids and torrents but also lulling peace. A sandy bottom. Hurricane storms breaking out overhead and sunny days. The wash of vulnerability swimming over her.

How good his hands felt, secured around hers. Hands she trusted. Hands she admired.

“I love you, m’lord Amon,” she whispered, holding his gaze now and cradling his hands. “So much. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anymore, more than I thought capable of loving; sometimes so much it’s overwhelming.”

His broadening smile distracted her as she continued, “I’ve never wanted someone in my life more than I want you. I’ve never felt so sure of someone’s loyalty, or more sure in what you say is true.”

“I am still learning,” she admitted with twinges of fear and sheepishness. “I will make mistakes. And if you are willing to be as patient a leader as I know you to be, then I have faith when I ask you to be soft with me, and my heart. I love you. I love you deeply as the infinite of space and time itself; or should either have an end, I love you surpassed those, too.”

“And I would be the happiest person to ever exist, to be able to call you mine,” she declared, tightening her hold upon his grasp to finalize her words.

Her nobleman sighed, and it was magic. Relief mixed with hope. In the tangle of their hands, his hold on her increased.

“I have been yours alone for quite some time now,” he rasped. “You laid claim to my heart long ago.” He swallowed; a nervous jump in his throat. “Your words sound a lot like a ‘yes’…”

Curling her lips into a smile at his caution, she nodded. “It is.”

He dropped her hands suddenly, and seized her into his embrace. A wheezing breath escaped her in surprise. His face in her hair, his fingers latched into her shirt, the smell of his cologne invading her lungs. He was everywhere all at once. Anchor and storm. Remedy and chaos. Beautiful salvation and whirlwind adventures. The tickle of his beard brushing the side of her neck as he nuzzled himself against her, buried his heart safely inside her own chest for safety and she too in return, tucked hers in a wedge behind his own ribcage where it would be guarded by a ferocity stronger than any dragon.

If this was love; true, untarnished, and gentle, she hoped it would never leave. He could be hers, and she could be his, forever.

[justicedefended]

apollo was really bold as a child. actually, he was kind of mean in that thoughtless, pushy way kids can be when they don't second - guess themselves or what people possibly think of them or what they doing. boy had a lot of zeal and confidence not bogged down by anxiety and indecision or need to be taken seriously.

at least at first, but if i acknowledge the move from khura'in to america, that absolutely shook up his self - confidence and perception of the people around him and made him begin to wonder what they thought of him and why they'd do this kind of shit to him. cycling through foster care made it that much worse, because what was he doing wrong to always be sent off somewhere new??? i would even say this could be potentially traumatic for a child, acknowleding khura'in, because he just got slam dunked by a trusted adult figure to be shuffled around by??? untrusted adult figures??? the actual hell???

( admittedly, i am purposely very vague about apollo's Actual Origins when writing anything set before AA6 but these headcanons and points still stand until i begin to work on my gramarye - centric rewrite / AU )

which i guess is where i end up in the fandom's minority of how apollo is headcanon'd as a child / teen because even as a child / teen i see and portray my apollo as a defensive, private person who had 0 issue laying his hands on someone if they attempted to shove him around or call him names because he already felt like he was in trouble all the time anyway and thus, felt like he had very, v e r y little to lose in being an absolute shit back to people. but you know, an eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind. apollo managed to learn this and that it's not exactly... justice, to act out on your own against someone who has wronged you.

dream to become a reliable and HIGH PROFITING defense attorney was not and could not always on his mind when going about his day to day life. people who aren't actively studying in the field which they wish to pursue or practicing in it do not logically obsess about it all the time, i don't think??? especially when not stuck in some high stress, do or die situation. not when they're a child whose not always sure where he's going to bed the next day. ( did you know the average age of a child when they first enter the foster system is 10 years old. did you know statistically in the u.s., that it's not uncommon to go through 20+ different home changes until you wash out of the system??? that is. so many. )

of course, that's a very short - sighted outlook on what consequences our actions might have, but most children / teenagers not close to adulthood aren't renowned for their abundance of high definition foresight.

anyways, apollo went through his early life very confused and very volatile, but he was never an inherently bad child or person... just more 'treat others as they have you' than 'treat others as i wish to be treated even if they're pieces of shit' like he 100% tries to be as an adult now.

unfortunately, developing into an Upright and Uptight Citizen is largely in part because he developed anxiety.

it was during / after an an Incident occurred in his youth when apollo's anxiety began to manifest itself more overtly in behaviors and symptoms; it's when he began to doubt himself and his control over himself / his life. it's when he seriously began to reflect on his thoughts and actions were really all that justified when one emotional outburst or wrong impulse could cost him just about everything. additionally, this same Incident ironically made him want to become a defense attorney even more so that he could have the knowledge, prowess, and ability to support and defend people with no one else to rely on. but. it still also irrevocably fucked him up.

( on my personal timeline this event is after meeting and making friends with clay, and just before his Best Foster Parents Who I'm Fleshing Out came into his life. )

these parents, who kept him from fourteen years old onwards were ACTIVELY supportive of him and his dreams for his remaining time in foster care as a minor. they were good, open minded people that provided apollo with security and genuine love and provided him with models to liken himself to in order to reign in his temper / emotional outbursts and mature as a person. but, he wouldn't let them adopt him so not to burden them or complicate things for dhurke to take him back to khura'in... if he ever came back, and that's the kind of unavoidable hurt he left them with when he went off to get his BA across the state.

it was also a little too late by then to prevent or reverse most of what he'd learned he needed to be in order to not be a burden to others / stand on his own because trust no bitch. like AA4 apollo is quick to apologize but also self-deprecating, defensive, and so very, very passive aggressive with incidents of LEGIT aggression ( be it in harming people *cough* phoenix or thinking / threatening it through this game and dual destinies ) and this attitude is definitely the attitude of someone who is warding people away / has major issues in letting anyone close -- because while he craves a deep interpersonal connection from more than the two and a half sources he has, that means opening himself up to more people who can drop him or use him and reinforce this deeply intristic belief that he's 'not enough' or inherently defunct with how he keeps falling into this same perverse pattern of letting people take advantage of him... and, yeah.

these are some of events / thought processes that have taught apollo thay it's way, w a y easier to just keep things as professional or acquaintance-y as possible to avoid / prevent anymore hurt or situations where he could potentially hurt other people, as he's done with the Incident and refusal to let his foster fam legally recognize him as one of their own and overall little shit behavior as an over - emotional child / teen suffering through life with weird inherited empathy abilities and maxed out abandonment issues.

idk where i was going with this but i guess i just wanted to ramble about my take on apollo because i do say his personality is aa4 based and heavy on personal interpretation. rip the end.

[punmasterkentparson]

Through the Floorboards

you can thank Nano and Ariana Grande for this.

(ao3) for easy reading

It’s 12am and Swoops’ upstairs neighbor his vacuuming his apartment.

Swoops has to be up at 5:30am to get ready for an 8am shareholders meeting and he is not in the mood. Which is why he gets out of bed, pulls on the first pair of pants he can find, and stomps upstairs in his fuzzy red slippers to bang on his neighbor’s door.

Inside, the vacuum shuts off. Ten seconds later, the door opens.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Swoops demands before his tired eyes register what’s in front of him.

The guy at the door—black boxers, bare legs, cut abs and chest, no shirt—scratches his impressive bedhead and replies, “Dunno. Nine-ish?”

“It’s midnight.” The hallway lights are dim and the backlighting from the guy’s apartment isn’t much better. Even so, Swoops can see thick muscles moving under skin as the guy tiredly leans an arm on the door frame and rests his head on it like he’s about to fall asleep right there.

“Shit, really?” The guy yawns and yells back over his shoulder, “You hear that, babe, it’s midnight.”

Fantastic, Swoops thinks, there are two people in this apartment who think it’s fine to be up making noise at this hour. “Yeah, so if you could not vacuum right now, that’d be great.”

The guy yawns again and shrugs. It’s like watching marble move under caramel. “Couldn’t be helped. I’m ‘bout done, though.”

“Great,” Swoops says. He’s still reeling from watching the roll of shoulders, and it’s clashing with his exhaustion and irritation. Generally speaking, he’s not attracted to assholes, so his body’s fizzing response to this situation is a goddamn inconvenience. “Just remember you’re not the only person in this building.”

The guy gives him a thumbs up. Then he backs up two steps and shuts the door, right in Swoops’ face.

Swoops stares at it for a full ten seconds, stupefied, before he huffs and stomps back downstairs. He’d rather spend his time sleeping than arguing.

—

Two nights later, Swoops blinks awake in the dark, flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling and blearily wondering what the fuck. A heavy thud echoes overhead, then again, and again—rhythmic. To slow to be a headboard banging against the wall, which rules out sex (thank god).

Instead, it sounds like... oh fucking hell.

Swoops gives it a full two minutes before he troops upstairs to confront his neighbor again.

“Are you exercising?” he demands when the door swings open. The sight that greets him answers his question. The guy is shirtless, again, only this time he’s wearing tight workout shorts that have hiked up nearly to hips, his hair is slick with sweat, his skin is flushed, and there are wet rivulets painting glistening lines across his gorgeous muscles.

“Yeah,” the guy says, an answer to a question that Swoops has already forgotten asking. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

There is genuine remorse in the guy’s expression, which Swoops would have tried to accept if he wasn’t feeling such a disorienting mix of tired, angry, and horny.

“Just don’t do it again,” he snaps, and marches away before he can say or do something embarrassing.

—

“I don’t actually know what you’re doing,” Swoops says when he confronts Hot Asshole three weeks later. “I just want you to stop.” This is the third time he’s been up here since the exercising incident. Hot Asshole has earned his nickname because he has continued to be noisy at ungodly hours in increasingly creative ways, and he’s been shirtless literally every single time Swoops has come upstairs to confront him about it. Including this time. At least he’s had the decency to put on sweatpants that cover the full lengths of his (ridiculously thick and toned) legs.

Hot Asshole blinks. Swoops realizes that his eyes look a little bloodshot—kind of like he hasn’t been sleeping much, either. Swoops wonders if this is the first time or if he’s missed seeing it before. After all, he only ever sees this guy at night.

“Sorry,” Hot Asshole says gruffly, both his tone and his posture dismissive, like he’s already tired of Swoops on his doorstep. “I’m almost done, anyway.”

“Be done now,” Swoops snaps. “Or do it in the morning.”

“Christ, fine.” Hot Asshole rubs his eyes. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Swoops repeats, and gets the door shut in his face. Again. “Asshole,” he tells the door, and goes home to get some sleep.

—

Twenty-four hours later, Swoops snaps awake in the dead of night to something upstairs shattering against a wall. It’s loud and sharp, like gunshot, and it leaves him wide-eyed and taking slow breaths to calm his racing heart.

He waits, but the sound doesn’t repeat itself. Just soft footsteps on hardwood and the creak of old sofa springs.

Swoops lies there in the dark, straining to hear. He thinks... he thinks he hears crying. There are no other footsteps, though; no voices, no other sounds. He had assumed, the first time he went up to tell the guy off for vacuuming, that there’d been someone else in the apartment. ‘Babe,’ the guy had said. But Swoops has never seen anyone else there.

Maybe they broke up.

He imagines his gorgeous neighbor crying alone in his living room and swallows hard.

Every other time his neighbor has woken him up at night, he has gotten right out of bed and gone upstairs to tell him off. But now, suddenly, he’s frozen to the mattress, just listening.

He spends so long lying there wallowing in indecision that he falls back asleep.

It feels like seconds later that his alarm goes off. Groaning, he fumbles it off and rolls out of bed. He has been through his morning routine so many times that there’s no hesitation: shower, coffee, clothes, shoes, keys, door.

The click of his own apartment door lock seems to snap him out of his mindless morning stupor. Dumbly, he looks up.

Then he heaves an enormous sigh, because he knows exactly what he’s about to do and he’s not happy about it.

It takes less than a minute to go upstairs and pound on his neighbor’s door, but it takes three minutes for the door to open.

Hot Asshole comes out looking like shit, and like he’d be madder about the noise if he wasn’t so obviously tired. “D’you have any fuckin’ idea what time it is?” he slurs.

“Six a.m.,” Swoops says, with a perkiness he doesn’t remotely feel. Turnabout is fair goddamn play, even if his neighbor’s red-rimmed eyes and tense frown send a pang of uncomfortable worry through him. Christ, the guy is even wearing a t-shirt. That’s just not right. “Look—”

“Is this about last night?”the guy interrupts. “‘Cause I’m sorry, if I woke you up. I just—” He waves vaguely behind him. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Fuck, his voice even cracks on the apology. Whatever happened last night, he’s not over it, and before Swoops can stop himself, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the guy says, and then on the next breath, “No. It’s my cat.”

Swoops has never had a pet, nor has he ever had a profound connection with an animal in his life. But he has friends with pets and he knows better than to let his failure to empathize show on his face. “Yeah?”

A nod, then a hard swallow. “She’s been in and out of the vet’s all month. Two days ago she went to the animal hospital and they put her in a box with oxygen. Then last night they called me, said she’s having seizures, might not make it through the night.” He smiles briefly, there and gone. “She did.”

“That’s good,” Swoops replies, meanwhile doing some mental math and realizing the noise only started when the cat got sick. Well, shit. Now he feels like the asshole. “Did they, uh, say when you can bring her home?”

The guy shrugs. “No idea.”

“That blows.”

“Yeah.” Another heartfelt sigh. “Listen, I really am sorry I’ve been an ass all month. Mostly I was just so fucking stressed that I decided I wouldn’t give a shit, but like, that’s not fair. Probably other people in the building are pissed off at me, but nobody’s said anything. You’re the only one. So, thanks for calling me on it.”

Swoops has a tight feeling in his chest that’s either a heart attack or the worst guilt he’s ever felt. “It’s fine, man. I’m sorry about your cat. I hope she gets better. And, uh,” he clears his throat, “sorry I was an ass, too. I could have dealt with it better than just getting in your face all the time.”

The guy laughs. It sounds strained from his exhaustion and stress, but genuine. “You know I started looking forward to it? You wear, like, the weirdest shit to bed, and you have a million pairs of slippers. I’m always wondering what you’re gonna show up in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s fucking hilarious, coming from someone who never puts a shirt on.”

The guy laughs again. “It’s Vegas.”

“It’s distracting,” Swoops says, and colors immediately when the reaction is a single raised eyebrow. “Shut up, you’re fucking ripped. What do you even do for a living?”

“You first.”

Swoops groans and checks his watch. “If I don’t leave right the fuck now, I won’t have a job. I get off at five, though, and I’ll probably be back by six. You wanna come by, have a beer later? You can tell me about your cat.”

He can’t believe he’s holding his breath waiting for an answer.

The hot neighbor, whose shoulders are straining the fabric of his t-shirt and look obscene as they move through a shrug, says, “Sure. That sounds... really fucking good. Make it seven, and I’m there.”

“Good.” Swoops checks his watch again. “I really have to go. Take care, man.”

“Yeah, you too. And thanks.”

“No problem.” On impulse, Swoops holds out his hand. “Jeff Troy.”

Hot Neighbor shakes his hand. “Kent Parson.”

When they let go, Swoops says, “You look like shit. Go get some sleep.”

“Fuck off,” Kent says, smiling. He waves as Swoops leaves, only closing the door fully once Swoops has gone back down the stairs.

[bounnostra]

endgame 1.1 | sylvaine | your pain is a tribute

It’s all so undignified, she knows.  Sylvaine’s legs had buckled underneath her with her vote, the simple drumbeat of not Sute, not Sute, not Sute, compelling her to pick Evie’s card.  She wishes she could say it were based on anything else -- deduction, reasoning, the case she had built, even an honest gut feeling -- but it isn’t a choice.  Usually so indecisive, it had come so easily to her.

She digs the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to will herself to calm down.  There will be more to come! She needs to be present! She needs to draw herself up to defend once again!  So focused on leveling her breathing and preparing for the inevitable fallout, she almost misses Gambit’s gloating.

And not Sute, not Sute, not Sute, roars forward again and grabs her by the throat, her hands dropping from her face.  She’s pressed lines of mascara under her eyes, darkening the dark circles already there, but it’s unmistakable.  Despite how pale she’s grown and how her hands shake, and despite how weak it is, the faintest of smiles has made its way on her face.

She barely has time for a noise to escape from her -- something between a relieved exhale and a triumphant laugh -- before everything starts to shift.  Her palms slam onto the table to balance herself, hunger and exhaustion making her more unsteady. And she knows her body has hit its limit, but when she sees the panic on Sute’s face as she reaches for Evie… and when she realizes how easily Evie might be hurt….

Her first impulse is still to act.  She sacrifices some of her balance by reaching again for her discarded sword, digging the point into the table to try to prop herself up.  But she’s too weak and can’t manage it with the table’s movement. She can only uselessly call out towards the woman she still finds herself worried for, who she still wants to fiercely protect:

“Sute!”

She loses sight of them in the flurry of feathers, her panic spiking again.  She hardly registers the table settling, vertigo keeping her from processing that its stopped, and can only blink blearily up to where they now are….

And she knows she ought to be angry, she knows she should be eager to hear the explanations that they’re both scrambling to give.  Surely she should reserve judgement and listen as an unbiased party…

But God forgive her, Sylvie doesn’t find herself waiting.  Her gaze falls just to Sute, still standing and resolute, ever proud and ever beautiful.  How could she be angry? The closest she finds herself getting is when she almost says you could have told me out loud, her lips pursing, but she stops herself.

...Because hadn’t she?  

And the feeling of a limp hand on top of hers returns, the echoed “are you so sure I am not?  What makes you so?” creeping again in the back of her mind.  How had she ignored Sute’s discomfort that much?  How could she have attributed it to absolutely anything else?  Is she usually so clumsy?

And Sylvie can’t place what’s changed and why it hadn’t been obvious to her.  How foolish she’d been! And how foolish she continues to be! Because she regrets not realizing -- not because she would’ve been able to change the trial’s outcome --  but because her stubborn ignorance stopped her from better comforting Sute and from understanding her situation more.

One of Sute’s worries pokes its way into the front of Sylvie’s mind, the belated realization making her breath hitch.

“I do not wish to hurt you, but I worry it is unavoidable.”

But for Sylvie, nothing is ever so inevitable or so concrete.  She can’t feel deceived or hurt knowing that Sute had tried to tell her… and well, surely there was evidence before that the Don and her mole were not evil people.  She can’t remember it -- knowing that Sute is involved is enough for her to be sure -- but it definitely exists.  And so she can only push her weight down against her sword again, successfully standing this time.  If Sute can still stand and defend herself and Evie, then surely Sylvie can do the same.

Besides, she can’t afford to look like she’s struggling -- she isn’t going to let Sute's fear be realized.  She has to look confident, strong, and -- above all else -- not hurt. For Sute, for Evie…

And her head turns as her gaze falls on one other person, the only other person who might understand precisely how she’s feeling.

Simone… Sylvie’s chest lurches in worry for her.  Sylvie has no interest in explanations, but she knows Simone must.  And so she steels herself and listens, trying to construct a better defense than her own personal stake in the woman she loves.

And it’s hard.  Hearing -- again -- of what people like her family have done to compassionate people like Saori… the lives they’ve ripped to pieces….

Her hands knuckle around the hilt of her sword, turning pale with tension.  She almost wants to intercept Sute, to reassure her that she doesn’t need to offer an explanation, but she reminds herself that the others need it to process for themselves.  She only nods at her in something like reassurance, her jaw set knowing how difficult it must be for her to say.  

And then Evie… her mouth parts in surprise.  Hadn’t she just been talking about this with Grisha, of all people?  He thought that Sylvie couldn’t feel pain -- so she’d already considered what that’d be like.

What had she told him?  She’d be a poor opponent if she couldn’t… and that it’s a too good of an indicator.  And obviously, Sylvie thinks to herself, Evie shouldn’t consider the first point for herself, but… the idea of not having a metric like pain?  It’d be all too easy for Evie to push herself too far even without strenuous activity….

She tries to incorporate what they’ve just said into her thought process, attempting to actually find a way to repackage it towards the group.  Looking biased won’t stand to help anyone… how should she put this?  How can she possibly pull herself out of the situation?  Her shoulders roll back, refusing to let exhaustion settle in them.

“So what I am hearing from you, Gambit, is that we would not have really won even if we had voted correctly.  So we… we had nothing to gain.”

Her voice is weaker than it typically is, but she tries to impart some conviction in her words.

“And… and… knowing that you two are not the orchestrators of our situation -- this is the first time a Don has been present, hasn’t it…?  Then… what point is there in condemning you? Any of us could have been in your position if we were in that… Clubs gang? The winning gang.  If these cycles are not contingent on you two, then... it is all simple, isn’t it?”

She tries to work through her thoughts with no planning, stumbling through her musings.  Though they’re intended to convince the others… she desperately holds onto them herself. She glances towards Myra and Finlay, her mouth pressing into a line, before she looks again towards Evie and Sute.

“It’s good, then,” she says carefully, “that both of you fought for someone and something so precious to you.  It would be the same for us regardless, right?”

And before she can stop herself, words fall out of her mouth.

“But… will you two get to leave?  And is there any way for us to still remember what all just happened?  That is the only thing I am concerned about by this point! What is next for all of us?”  And her voice cracks as she closes, “I... I do not want to forget.”

 She had been trying so hard to keep her personal concerns out of what she was saying; her face flushes, terrified of losing the scraps of credibility she has left.  She can't afford to be anything but pointed, but the idea of speaking for any longer and digging herself even deeper...

So instead she falls silent, trying to keep her attention on all parts of the room, but she can't help it -- she always settles on Sute.