#opposite headcanon.

[buggachat]

does anyone else form their headcanons of marinette and adrien largely on the basis of "they have to be opposite each other"? like, creation and destruction, yin and yang, etc. like Marinette being late all the time and sleeping through her alarms? so she's probably a deep sleeper? So that means, by the laws of my lovesquare headcanons according to my brain, Adrien has to be a light sleeper. Marinette is a chaotic creative person and I can imagine her just having so much STUFF all around and living in organized chaos. so therefore Adrien likes his spaces neat and clear. (also something something creation and clutter vs destruction and emptiness) you know??? ???? ? adrien and marinette headcanons just cant be independent of each other in my brain. they are always intrinsically linked

[demigods-posts]

we already have the percy whose scalp is always somewhat damp because he wants to feel the moisture on his skin. the percy who takes bubble baths twice a week soley so he can nap underwater when he's away from the beach. the percy who once drank four gallons of water in two hours and felt like he was king of the world for a week straight. but give me the percy who gets overstimulated from being in the water too much. the percy who spent his three-day weekend putting a stop to a war between the fish of the pacific and atlantic ocean. the percy who returned home with his hair dry as a bone. the percy who locked himself in his room and refused to touch water unless he was nearly dying of thirst. the percy who damn-near asked his father to disown him for a few days because being directly linked to water made him want to cry.

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

happy pride month

[zephyrchama]

I like to sometimes think that the OM! demons and angels have a heightened sense for noticing other beings, like they know when someone or something is nearby even if it's incredibly still and silent. But they're so used to MC being around that MC can completely slip under their radar. MC's presence is a totally natural, constant part of their daily life. For better or for worse, they're too used to it.

They're just chilling in their room, doing whatever, until MC coughs. It really spooks them. Maybe they jump a little.

"How long have you been there?"

"I came in, like, three hours ago."

"What have you been doing that entire time?"

"I dunno, just... sitting here?"

"The whole time?"

"Yeah."

👀

[moyazaika]

tbh jaded lawyer darling trying to save yan crime kingpin from getting his ass thrown into prison for life — yet again.

he’s lingering at the court’s steps, entertaining the news reporters with a dazzling smile, the entire world waiting with bated breath to see whether this is the day his billion dollar criminal empire comes crumbling down—

“the whole world knows you did it!”

“are you ashamed of yourself?”

“do you really think you’ll walk away a free man after today?”

that gets his attention.

“darling, don’t ‘ya worry about me,” he turns to the journalist, and tilts his head to the side, pulling out his lollipop from between those lips, curled in a sly grin. “i ain’t gotta worry ‘bout no fuckin’ laws when i got the world’s best damn lawyer on my side.”

a young man, then. thick glasses and braces on his teeth. far too thin and lanky, for all his balls of steel as he speaks up. “are you implying that your lawyer is an accessory to your crimes? a corrupt lawyer for a guilty man on his way to the gallows?”

he hears you approach before he can think to respond. the familiar, expensive echo of the dress shoes he’d bought you the first time you’d won a case, before you’re there where he thinks you belong; right by his side.

“alleged crimes,” you correct, and your kingpin turns to greet you with a million dollar smile. “now, my client will not be taking any more questions. kindly, fuck off.”

cameras flash instantly and countless more mics are shoved into his pretty face, still mesmerised by you, even when you grab him by the back of his collar (unironed, you notice with absolute dismay) and pull him inside, away from prying eyes.

“you’re being tried for sixteen drug and weapons counts,” you hiss, digging your newly manicured nails into his skin, as you pull the lollipop he’s sucking on right out of his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and toss it to the side, seething. “when will you fucking get serious!”

he only dumbly stares back at you with a slack jaw, and stars in his eyes. his voice dips an octave lower, deep in his throat when he speaks. “oh, i could get very serious if you wanted to give me a kiss. or, y’know, maybe you could act as a replacement to that sweet lollipop of mine ‘ya just—oh, fuck!”

when you stride into the courtroom later, in your neat, pressed suit and slicked back hair, nobody dares ask why the infamous ‘alleged’ crime lord is following after you with a bruise blossoming on cheeks that flush a deep, deep scarlet.

-

the judge announces the jury's verdict, and you don’t even look up from the documents you’re perusing when he’s found ‘not guilty’ in a court of law, yet again—

“jesus fuckin’ christ, i knew you were gonna save me!” your kingpin jumps up from where he’s sitting besides you, pressing his face into your shoulder as he breathes you in with an elated, shuddering breath. “can’t even imagine which ditch i’d be rottin’ in without ‘ya, sweet pea.”

“excuse me, sir.” you pry his hands off you with a detached air of reservation you reserve for when the two of you are in public, but the way your knuckles are white when you gather the countless files and papers of yours scattered on your desk tell him everything he needs to know about how pissed you are. “hands off.”

he knows he’s in for it when the two of you get home, and yet, he looks forward to the sight.

it’s always more… exciting than it should be; when you’ve got him shoved right up against a well, going off about how ‘irresponsible’ and ‘immature’ he is, nails leaving his skin bleeding from how deep you sink them into his body, too caught up in your own irritation to notice or, honestly, care.

and maybe, he thinks, as he follows you out, tonight he’ll go pay a visit to someone after you’re done with him.

a man’s got needs, y’know?

he’s high off the rush of his latest win when he walks up the porch steps hours later. it's really only the latest achievement in a long line he attributes solely to you and your efforts.

he’ll make sure to repay you one day, with all you’ve done for him. he’ll take such good care of you; let you do whatever you wanted to him, as a token of his appreciation for ho hard you've worked to keep him on the streets he rules and out of the prisons he knows he belongs in.

in fact, his efforts start right here and right now; on the steps of a nice, suburban house, that belongs to the journalist with thick glasses and braces and a wiry frame. the white picket fence and 'keep off the grass' sign do little to deter the man outside. then again, the poor bastard could have had gates of iron, and he still would have found a way to creep inside.

he never knew being a journalist paid so well. shit, maybe he should’ve gone down this path instead of, y’know, running a criminal empire. this bastard's got balls of steel, for what he had the nerve to say about you. but it’s okay! hey! he’s here to take care of it for you!

you don’t ever need to find out what he’s done in your name. ♡

he’s very adamant about this, choosing to see the job to completion all alone, slinking away from your critical, watchful gaze—only once he’s made sure you’re knocked out by watching you sleep, crouched by your bedside, for a few hours—to make sure the problem’s all taken care of.

the kingpin rings the doorbell, and patiently waits for the door to open with his scarred hands held behind his back. there’s a glock in his left back pocket, and a silencer in the right. a swiss army knife curled in his fingers, because he’s always been creative.

yeah, can you believe that? his teachers used to tell him he would make a great artist one day. and he is, he likes to think. only that his canvases are a little less traditional, and not in the banksy way. you know how it is! life imitates art... or some hippie shit like that.

there's no rules in art for what you can paint with, right? or what surfaces you can carve up into pretty shapes...

and so, when the lock clicks open, and the handle turns, it’s exactly like he said; a man’s got needs!

so sue him! really, so what if his needs mean his heavy hands are clamping over the journalist’s mouth, twisted into a silent scream—

so what if he knocks the smaller man back, a fist flying to his face, those wide eyes and all, slack jaw stupidly hanging open in disbelief—

so what if he shoves him inside and kicks the door behind them shut?

your kingpin knows what comes with the life he chose, and sullying his name is one thing—but nobody gets to drag your name through the dirt and live.

he makes sure of that, personally.

-

“where did you go last night?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the weekly newspaper in your hands. there, on the front page, a greyscale photo of you and your headache of a client, descending the court’s steps after the verdict. “and why didn’t you ask for my permission before you left?”

the headline, in big, bold letters, splashed above the picture; INTERNATIONAL OUTRAGE AS INFAMOUS DRUG LORD EVADES LAW YET AGAIN. SHADY LAWYER TO BLAME?

“just takin’ out the trash, lovely. don’t you worry ‘yer pretty little mind about it.” as he says that, he abandons his own breakfast, suddenly snatching the paper out of your hands and ripping it up, but not before noting the name of the article’s author, tucking it away for later.

shreds of the weekly paper you hadn't even gotten to read yet fall to the floor, fluttering this way and that. you close your eyes and smile. “haha. funny. well, my ‘pretty little mind’ is telling me to throw the coffee in my hands all over you.”

“tryna mark me up?” he purrs, “if you really wanna wake me up, can i suggest somethin’ else ‘ya could throw at me? or on me, really. but—”

“i’m going to kill you in your sleep, one of these days.” you deadpan, turning back to your food. he’s like a little kid, and you’re not about to indulge him by giving him the attention he so desperately wants from you.

“'yer serious??" he grins, hands flying to his face in elation, a curious blush colouring his skin a deep pink. “you mean you actually wanna step into my bedroom— at night— of 'yer own damn will?“

you take another sip of your coffee, fingers trembling around the cup. don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what—

“damn... guess i should start sleeping naked, then.”

[ryllen]

how nice it is if the phone headmage gave u actually has special magic attribute, where it has very shitty network on twisted wonderland universe, but actually very good to connect back and forth between your world to twisted wonderland

[starcurtain]

Everyone on Twitter playfully dragging Aventurine for his crop top and track pants fit, and while I agree that this is hilarious and should be meme'd into oblivion, I also can't help but think that the Aventurine fandom as a whole should definitely embrace turning "He's kind of tacky, wouldn't know a subtle outfit unless it was picked by Jade, and wears bizarrely out-of-touch fits on his days off just because he personally thinks they look cool" into an endearing fanon character trait.

Because like, canonically? It makes perfect sense.

As a child, his family didn't have the luxury of giving him a wide variety of clothes in different styles or fabrics. He wore what he could get. Then, we're only ever shown adult Kakavasha wearing rags until joining the IPC.

We know from his character stories that he was kept extremely out of the loop on world news and mainstream media as a slave and literally wouldn't know anything about clothing other than seeing it on other people.

From the time he was a child, wearing whatever his family could pull together, to the time he became an adult prisoner wearing literal scraps, there was never a need or even reasonable opportunity for him to learn about fashion or the social pressures of "dressing to fit in."

The first thing he's told to do as a member of the Stonehearts is "Go pick out new clothes," and the next time we see him, he's wearing the most peacock-esque outfit possible. When Jade told him to pick out his clothes, he literally went in completely blind with no lessons on how to appropriately dress for any adult occasion at all.

While I do think that one of the first things Aventurine would have done as a new Stoneheart is research how to establish a certain "character" for himself and how to dress to give a specific impression, I also think that Aventurine would delight in finally, finally having the power to present himself exactly as he chooses--and that would likely be very strongly informed by an entire child- and young-adulthood growing up without a single social pressure to "dress normal."

Given that he never had someone to teach him how to dress in any modern intergalactic style in his formative years, I think that it makes perfect sense for his "fashion" sense to be extremely unique to him, with little outside influence except for being strongly based on what he knows best: the luxuries the Avgin people could gather from the deserts of Sigonia-IV.

Ratio accuses him of being "flashy," but Aventurine likely loads up all his personally-picked outfits with turquoise jewels, fur trim, and gold metal accents because that's what he grew up perceiving as status symbols and signs of prosperity. Of course he's flashy! Why would he not want to wear furs and jewels now that he has them?! What do you mean wearing six gold bangles is overkill with a t-shirt? No such thing as overkill, come on!

Topaz dropping the Star Rail equivalent of "You look like what would happen if Fashion Week was themed on the yakuza and the Roaring 20s at the exact same time" every other month.

"Well, I think it looks great!"

tl;dr: Aventurine can definitely do his research and blend his outfits into any scenario if needed, but when left to his own devices, he absolutely wears the most over-the-top and/or bizarrely unmodern and "I couldn't care less what is currently trending" fits because no one ever taught him fashion sense when he was growing up, he's finally got the autonomy to dress himself in whatever he thinks looks best, and he's still a little bit drunk on the opportunity to bath in the natural luxuries he longed for but could never have as a child.

Just sayin'.

[yuvany]

#ENHYPEN TROPES⋆

❝Enhypen, and tropes I can imagine them in❞ ot7 . . . fmr . . head cannon + imagines . w.c : ~150/character ꩜ ...not proofread!!...

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 – brother's bestfriend

You never tried to associate yourself with your brother's friends because they seemed like people you wouldn't like to associate yourself with. One day though when you were home alone, the door burst open and the laughter of multiple people disturbed the calmness prior. You groaned to yourself, identifying the voices to be them. You saw them very rarely since they were in a different class, and slightly older than you. With a groan, you zoned out their loud voices. While reading your book, the door to your room opened softly, and you snapped your head in that direction. In your sight stood a tall man with bambi looking eyes scanning you as well. "What are you doing here?" You questioned with an arched eyebrow. "Sorry, was trying to find the bathroom." He replied, and stood there awkwardly. "Just go down two door to the right." You returned to your reading. "You're Y/n, right?" He asked. "I thought you were searching for the bathroom?" You said, not sparing him another glance. "Right." He then shut the door, but you felt slightly content with his presence in some way. Lucky to say that he visited his friend more often, and you got to see him more often too.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 – strangers to lovers

Jay would walk into the café down the street every morning to get his usual order; a cup of coffee and a bagel. Every staff knew him, and he knew them. So when he sees a new employee by the cash register, he tries to get to know you too. You greeted him like you did with every other customer, and he ordered like he always did. Jay walked over to a corner and observed the pretty scenery outside. He looked back up when you arrived. "Thanks ... ?" and that's when you realised he wanted to know your name, and that's when you noticed you lacked a name tag. In later weeks, the tense dome around you broke down, and you guys chatted while you made his usual order, realising he was a regular. "Any plans for after your shift?" He asked. "I'm just gonna lay on the sofa and watch a movie honestly." you chuckled. When you went to collect his plate and cup after he waved farewell, you saw a small slip of paper hidden under the plate. "Call me, please. xxxx - Jay"

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 – golden retriever x black cat

He saw you sitting alone during lunch time, and he invited himself to take a seat in the empty spot next to you. You sneered at him, examining him up and down with an icy glare. In contrast, he had a soft smile. "What are you doing here?" You asked with a cold tone. "You looked lonely." Jake replied, wearing a confused look. "Well, I'm not, so you can go." You dismissed him and returned to the lunch in front of you. "What class are you in?" He asked, not giving up so easily. You replied simply, and bit into your home made lunch while he looked at you from the side, and ultimately returning to his own lunch. You thought he would stop bothering you after, but you were wrong. Jake would follow you around the corridors, and later find out that the two of you had a couple of lessons together. As time went on, you seemed to not mind his company, finding it more pleasant than being alone, realising that you maybe needed someone to fill that lonely side you always showed.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 – friends to lovers

You guys would be in the same friend group, but not the closest, you had your friends, and he had his. When he fist realised he had romantic feelings towards you, he started getting distant, even though something inside fo him yearned to be close to you. That, of course was noticed by both you and the other people around you. The friendgroup had decided to go to the arcade, and while they were there he did his best to not look your way as much as possible, but that was easier said than done. He saw how much you eyed that single teddy bear in a claw machine, and he made it his mission to get it for you. You decided to approach him to ask why he was becoming so distant, but started it off with a normal conversation, "Are you really going to use this machine?" You asked him, your eyes scanning the moles on his face. "Yeah." He scoffed playfully, and you stood beside him, watching him play multiple rounds until he finally caught the teddy. "Take it." He shoved the plush into your arms before walking away with a flushed face as you stood there dumbfoudned, totally forgetting the reason you walked over to him to begin with.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 – admirer from afar

Sunoo is shy, and he only ever watched and admired you from afar. The only times he ever saw you up close was when the two of you walked by each other in the hallways or when going to your assigned seats in the classroom. Even then, you'd smile at him, and he'd smile back, just that he would be a mess on the inside. He never ever spoke to you since he thought of you as someone too unapproachable. One day, when he was talking about you to his friends during break time, "She's just so pretty, and smart, and perfect!" His friends had gotten tired of his hopelessness and suggested that he should send you a love letter on valentine's day. "What, why?" He panicked, the embarrassment showing on his rosy cheeks. In the end, they convinced him to do it. February neared closer, and Sunoo arrived extra early just to slip his note into your locker. He looked at both sides, and then behind him and behind the lockers just to make sure he was alone. When the coast was clear, he carefully pushed the paper under the metal, but heard footsteps around the corner. "What are you doing?" It was you.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 – class president x new student

"hello everyone! I'm y/n, and I'm new. I hope we all ca get along well!" You greeted, standing in front of the class, anxiously playing with the hem of your skirt. "Alright, since she's new, Jungwon, you will show her around the school." The teacher said, and sat down in her chair, nodding towards a boy with big clear eyes who nodded his head back in confirmation. After class, it was a free period, and you quickly walked out of the classroom to explore on your own, since you guessed Jungwon wouldn't show you around at all. "Hey, wait up!" You heard a male voice calling for you, causing you to pause in your tracks and turn around. To your surprise it was that boy from earlier. You waited for him to catch up to you, and when he did, he asked, "Ready for a tour, y/n?" "Sure, why not.", you shrugged, and the two of you walked from one hallway to another. After what seemed to be the end, you decided to ask the question you were wondering about the whole time. "Why did you show me around?" It sounded stupid, that's what you realised right after uttering it. "I'm the class president, so it's kind of my job." He explained, and you sighed, now wondering if he was kind because he had to. "Don't worry though, you seem nice, and I'd like to get to know you more."

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 – enemies to lovers

At first, Riki thought it was all a joke when he saw you sneer at him, and so he returned the gesture, but to you, you just never liked him without knowing why. It continued on like that for most of the year. You two would always bicker and compete during most classes, and he would throw paper planes at the back of your head just because he found your reaction funny, so he continued. You would complain about him to your friends daily, while he would tell his friend how funny you were. "Ugh, I hate him! Why is he so stupid?!" You groaned. "Y/n is so funny! Did you guys see how angry she got during English?" Riki laughed, clearly enjoying the memory. The first half of the year passed, and you were finally on break. The idea was to rest, but an obstacle was made. You and your family had gotten in a pretty rough fight, and you decided to leave the house to get fresh air, but on your walk, Riki spotted you. He immediately saw your tears and held back the rude comments he was about to say. "Hey, are you crying? What happened?" His voice was sincere, and you broke down crying again, telling him everything. "Hmm. Let's go to that café to cheer you up." Riki comforted, rubbing your back. At school, he was kinder as well, as well as hanging out with you more.

Reblogs are much appreciated!!

Layout credits to @flwrstqr

[solarmorrigan]

[cw: weight loss, body image issues/body dysmorphia]

Consider: Steve whose migraines become unmanageable for a while, or who falls into a harsh depressive episode after everything with Vecna, or who experiences reduced mobility or chronic pain due to the many varied injuries he's picked up over the years, or any combination of the above

Steve who loses his appetite and who isn't able to keep up with the workout routine he used to have and who loses weight and loses muscle mass and fucking hates it

He's always been on the lean side, but he hasn't been skinny since probably eighth grade, when he was still gawky and growing into his frame. But this is different; this isn't awkward adolescence, something he'll grow out of, this is the sight of his ribs through his skin and his hipbones jutting out and his wrists getting too skinny for his watch. This is feeling cold all the time and struggling to lift things he used to be able to pick up without much trouble

(It's fear, too. Not just a fear that he'll never get back to where he used to be, but fear that something will happen and he'll be too weak to stop it. Too weak to help. Too weak to protect anyone the way he should)

There are days he can't quite stand looking at himself; can't stand the sight of baggy clothes that used to fit perfectly, can't stand looking at tired eyes staring out of the sharpened angles of his face. He feels insubstantial this way. Like anyone could look right past him - right through him

Eddie never does, though. He never treats Steve differently, except to worry about his health - but never what he looks like. He hugs Steve as tightly as before, kisses him just as hard as before, whistles at him when he catches Steve in the middle of dressing, just like before. Like he isn't disappointed that Steve doesn't look good anymore, like he isn't even bothered

He'll hold Steve, and pull him close on bad days, and he'll let Steve be upset, but he'll never stand for Steve speaking badly about himself. He'll always push back, sometimes gently, sometimes loudly, always reminding Steve that he loves him, and what he looks like is a part of that. Reminding him that Eddie loves it all

"But you can gain it back, if you want to. When you're doing better," Eddie tells him

"What if I'm never doing better? What if I can never get back to where I was?" Steve demands. "What if this is just my body now?"

"Then it is." Eddie kisses his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. "Then I'll help you learn how to love it as much as you did before. As much as I still do."

And he says it so openly, so honestly, that even on bad days, Steve thinks that maybe - maybe he could be okay

[greghatecrimes]

House MD 2024 AU: A blurry picture of what looks like world renowned diagnostician Dr Gregory House goes viral. He is wearing a pink HOT TO GO! tee shirt and sunglasses and appears to be in the stands at a Chappell Roan concert. The photo is captioned: "look at my fucking doctor, dawg. im gonna die."

The internet dubs him "Pink Pony Peepaw".

[justporo]

Astarion is terrible with mundane things.

Even before he became a vampire he never had to waste a thought on household chores or cooking or where freshly washed clothes came from.

Now, after everything, it's different. He's picked up a few things like sewing during his time under Cazador. But mainly he still doesn't know anything.

And frankly he doesn't really see why he would have to care now, making you almost scale up the walls with his ignorance. He learns only reluctantly and moans all the time about it.

The only things he's eager about, is when it's about you: learning to make the perfect cup of your favourite tea for you, making sure your clothes always look pristine, always fluffing up your pillow on your side of the bed so very eagerly because he loves how you sink down on it with a pleased sigh when it's time to go to bed together.

[redysetdare]

"This fandom is so queer friendly!" This fandom literally hates, bisexual, trans, nonbinary, and aspec people but ok.

[beenbaanbuun]

little moments - opposites attract universe

i haven’t updated oa in a while (or posted much for that matter….) so i thought i’d give you this!!! there will be a proper yunho and wooyoung chapter but for now, i hope this will satiate you guys’ appetite hehehe

seonghwa

“might i dress you this morning, my lamb?” seonghwa purrs as he laces a hand through your hair. his nails scratch deliciously against your scalp and you can’t help but lean into his touch. with hongjoong leaving early to meet with a potential buyer and yeosang still fast asleep in his own bed, the room feels cold. all you can do for warmth is tuck yourself into your lovers chest and hope that his gentle touch and bare chest is enough to keep you from shivering. he takes the hint and wraps his arms around you. “i know you have that pretty pink apron dress that you’ve yet to wear; did hongjoong buy you that or was it a gift to yourself?”

you can help but smile into his chest, pressing a soft kiss against his exposed collarbone. “is it really a gift to myself if i used hongjoong’s money?” you ponder aloud, forcing a chuckle out of seonghwa’s mouth. it’s like music to your ears, so sweet and adoring. it fills you up from the tip of your toes to the top of your scalp. it’s so warm and bright; a stark contrast to the darkness that you’ve surrounded yourself with day in day out.

“you chose it, didn’t you?” seonghwa rolls onto his back, tugging at your frame so you roll with him. with your fingers splayed against his pecs, it’s easy to keep your balance when he forces you to straddle his hips. they stay there even once your securely balanced, simply appreciating the feeling of the skin beneath them. “and besides, what’s ours is yours, lamb. there’s no ‘hongjoong’s money’ in this house; it belongs to you too.”

“okay, mommy,” you agree with a knowing smirk on your face. a scowl crawls it’s way onto his as his fingers crawl up to your waist. his grip is tight as he tugs you down to eye level, and you’re so thankful that your arms are there to keep you propped up.

there’s danger written all over his face but you can’t do much else than giggle. it’s just so easy to get a reaction out of them, after all! and when causing trouble gets you exactly where you want, why would you ever want to stop?

“careful with those pretty words, lamb,” his voice dips to a low growl, a clear warning of what is to come if you don’t start behaving soon, “it’ll be a lot harder to tease me when your face is pressed into the pillows.”

hongjoong

“check mate,” hongjoong announces with a grin as he shifts his queen across the chess board. you scowl as you try and find a fault in his move, desperately trying to pick it apart so you can accuse him of cheating or something. even with your limited knowledge of chess, though, you can see clear as day that he’s won, in record time as well.

with a swipe of your hand you clear the board, knocking the wooden pieces to the floor in something rather too similar to a child’s tantrum. you’re a sore loser, you guess; something you have in common with the man sitting across from you with a smug grin on his lips. honestly, you almost dread the day you do beat him at his own game. surely there’ll be hell to pay.

“losers clean up, dove,” he grins, showing you his teeth in a predatory grin. it’s the same smile he gives you before pouncing on you and taking you apart orgasm by orgasm, though over the chessboard it feels less sexy and more irritating. not at all like he’s going to pounce on your and instead more like he’s trying to goad you into doing the pouncing. you’d love nothing more than to do so and wipe that grin right off his face, but you know yourself too well. a single well placed command and you’ll be giving in to his every word like he’s a king and you’re his loyal subject.

“since when is that the rule?” you growl as you pick up a pawn from your lap and slam it down onto the board. it’s a simple act of annoyance that only serves to make his grin even more insufferably wide. it honestly takes you by surprise when you pull back your hand and flick the single pawn in his direction. it’s probably not until it bounces from his chest and lands on his lap that you even realise you’ve done it.

well at least you’ve wiped the smile off his face, you think to yourself as you watch his expression crumble into a look of pure and utter confusion. it’s like he can’t quite believe what you’ve done. there’s silence for a beat or two, and you wait for his reaction with bated breath. but then he chuckles, which then turns into a laugh, which then leads to his head being tossed back and the sound of his amusement rattling through his study.

“you’re a fool, dove,” he says brokenly through his joy, “a downright fool.”

yunho

at this point you’re sure that more than half of the artwork in the kim household is some sort of portrait of you. whether it be you on your own or some sort of family portrait doesn’t really matter to you; it doesn’t change the amount of times you’ve had to sit for them. that uncomfortable seat that yunho makes you perch on every single time is practically moulded to fit your ass and thighs at this point. the dents in the cushion are now perfectly aligned with the curves of your body and yet somehow, someway, it remains to be just as uncomfortable as the first day yunho had you sit for him.

“stop moving,” yunho says from behind his canvas. how he can tell you’re shuffling around, trying to find at least one comfortable spot, you don’t really know. his eyes seem to be trained on his work right now. “i’m trying to get the lighting right on your nose, kid, and i can’t when you won’t sit still.”

“well i can’t sit still if your chair isn’t comfy, yunho,” you scoff and fold your arms, entirely giving up on holding the pose he asked you to. the look of disdain on his face as you turn your head to the side is somewhat amusing, although you can’t help but feel a little bad. annoying mingi is fun; annoying yunho feels like you’re kicking a puppy.

an overgrown, overly-talented puppy.

“you know, annoying you isn’t even satisfying,” you say.

yunho raises a brow. “you’re doing this just to annoy me?” he puts his brush down on the little table next to his easel, as if he’s finished with his work for now. and perhaps he is! perhaps you’re free, at last. if you can force yourself into ignoring the clench of his jaw and the annoyed flicks of his tongue against his lower lip, maybe you can believe that lie. “huh,” he scoffs to himself, “i wonder how hongjoong and seonghwa might feel about their precious darling misbehaving?"

"and i wonder how they'll feel when my spine crumbles to dust because of this stupid chair!" you whine. he can't help but crack a smile at that.

"fine," he conceeds, "if you let me finish this portrait in peace, i'll invest in a new chair for next time, alright?"

yeosang

you bash loudly against yeosang’s door, fed up and tired of being ignored by him all day long. he’d been locked in his room since breakfast, even going as far as to excuse himself early from that. seonghwa had voiced his concern, and hongjoong had agreed; something wasn’t right with their mutt. had they not have already agreed to go to a dinner party at one of seonghwa’s clients homes, they would’ve headed straight to mingi’s with a strangely behaved yeosang in towe. for now it’s just you and your yeosang, and getting him to at least give you a sign of life is at the top of your priorities.

“let me in, yeosang!” you yowl as you repeatedly bash the heel of your hand against his door. you can vaguely hear the shift of bed springs beneath the sound of skin on wood, and yet somehow it still surprises you when you hear the click of a lock coming undone. you’ve never done anything quicker than slamming that door open to grant yourself access to your companion’s room. you see him flinch at the sound as he scrambled to get beneath his quilt once more. “what’s wrong with you?”

you take a few steps closer, only to notice the beads of sweat that drip down his face, and the unhappy scowl that perches upon his pretty lips. he looks sick, kind of like he has the flu, and as he pulls his quilt up to his chin, he looks frail. he shivers, despite the sweat that coats him, and his usually alert ears are lying flat atop his skull. another few steps closer and you’re at his bedside, within arms reach but still unsure of what course of action you should take.

“yeosang, wha—”

“pre-rut symptoms,” he cuts you off with a mopey grunt. “i don’t normally get them but i’m late this time, and it seems like my body is out to punish me for that.” he turns over so he’s facing you, eyes pathetic and wet.

“should i call san? ask him to bring them back?” you ask, but he just shakes his head.

“that won’t do anything but make them panic,” he pulls the quilt back as he speaks; a silent invitation that you want nothing more than to take. “just come and cuddle and i’m sure i’ll be cured in no time.”

san

“i’m hungry,” you whisper to hongjoong in the dead of night. judging by the chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway, it’s just after 3 am. he’s barely awake, and yet as he loosens his grip on your body, he still manages to mumble something about you abandoning him. you plant a kiss on his cheek as you crawl over him to exit the bed, hoping it’ll be enough to satiate him and send him right back to sleep.

the walk to the kitchen is quiet, as it usually it at this time of night. except for the squeaky floorboards and the low, bearish snores coming from the living room, there’s nothing. you’d almost call it eerie, but can a girl with a ghost and a werewolf as a best friend really be the judge of that?

you reach the kitchen in no time, but before you push the door open, something makes you pause. a new sound. not jongho or the floorboards, but something entirely different. someone’s crying in there. heaving sobs and small whimpers fill the air, and without even giving it a second thought, you push open the door.

it’s san, dressed in a pair of plaid pyjamas with a matching sleep mask on his forehead to keep his hair out of his face. his eyes are so swollen and puffy that you wonder how he can even see what he’s cooking on the stove. “san?” you say to catch his attention, your voice barely above a whisper. he jumps and looks at you with wide—well, as wide as they can be when they’re swollen with tears—eyes. desperate hands fly up to wipe away the tear tracks from him face, but it’s too late. you’ve already seen him in that state, so what’s the use?

there’s a deep sigh as he drops his hands back to his sides. “you weren’t mean to see me like this,” he warbles, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. of course you weren’t meant to see him sobbing into a pan; that doesn’t change the fact that you did.

“what’s up, sannie?”

at first he shakes his head, but then he realises who he’s talking to. you’ll only press if he doesn’t tell you, or threaten to tell seonghwa who will only suffocate him with his overbearing tendencies. it’s safer to just tell you.

“this dish just smells like my mum’s cooking," he tries to shrug as if its nothing. as if you haven't just caught him in the middle of an emotional breakdown. "i just miss home sometimes, that's all."

you pull a seat out and drop yourself into it. "would you ever go back?" you ask.

he shakes his head.

"never."

mingi

“why am i stuck with you, again?” mingi groans as he paces along the bookshelves in the lounge. he brushes his fingers along the spines, barely ever stopping to take the time to read what they say.

“because you are,” you scowl at him, which only gets you a glare in return. “fine,” you scoff, “hongjoong is busy with work, seonghwa is in the garden tending the vegetable patch, yeosang is in the garden doing whatever werewolf’s do, and you came unannounced. unless you want me to summon my ghost friend, you’ll have to wait until they’re all finished.”

a look of horror passes over his face as you bring up your ghost, and as much as you’d love to invite your favourite dead bear demon to join you, you can’t help but feel like it will get you into a fair amount of trouble. not the fun kind that leaves you breathless and aching in the best way possible, but the kind that gets you scolded by seonghwa. you can almost imagine what he’d say now. ‘you can’t use jongho as a prank! it’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to mingi!’ he’d be right of course, so instead of calling his name and asking him to appear, you simply fold your arms.

“why are you here, anyway?” you ponder aloud, “don’t you have a werewolf sanctuary to run?”

he gives an unsatisfied grunt. “that’s the problem,” his fingers pull back from the shelf of books, rings glittering in the candlelight as he wipes frustratedly at his face. "i cant do this alone, anymore. more and more werewolves keep coming in and i have the space, but not the staff. do you know how hard it is to feed those guys three times a day? i barely get to spend any time with them because i'm never out of the kitchen."

you want to make a joke about how they must have it much harder than him actually having to eat his cooking, but you bite your tongue. again, you don't want him running to seonghwa spouting off about how 'mean' you've been to him. instead you begin to wrack your brain.

"well," you begin as your brain begins to formulate an idea. whether its a good idea or not is up for debate, but there's no harm in mentioning it, right? mingi can either say yes or no; he has the power here. "i have a friend who's just moved back to town. he's a paranormal investigator so he's used to this kind of stuff..."

mingi ponders it for a second or two before nodding. "tell him to meet me on bakewell street tomorrow, no later than 11."

wooyoung

wooyoung is brash as he pushes his way through the cafe back to his seat across from yours. yells of 'i'm sorry!' and 'careful, i'm right behind you!' echo through the room, despite the fact that he isn't even in your line of sight yet. you almost regret saying yes to coming here with him, yet he'd been so insistent. apparently whenever he's at the house he cant help but feel like he's going to be pounced upon by a jealous werewolf; you, personally, don't see the issue with that.

finally, he breaches the crowd and stumbles his way to your table with a sly grin and tray in hand. as he puts it down atop the table you can’t help but notice that the two cups are practically swimming in all the coffee he spilt. the cups are almost half empty, you think to yourself as you grab one and take a sip. the warm liquid washes over your tongue soothingly, and you let out a relaxed sigh.

“is it good?” wooyoung asks excitedly rather than taking a sip of his own and seeing for himself. you nod before going back for seconds. it is good. “yunho told me about this place! said he liked to come here and sketch whenever he has no ongoing projects.”

you chuckle a little as you put your almost empty mug against the table. between most of it being spilt and your two sips, there really isn’t a lot for you to drink. “i take it life is good with your new roommate then?”

he nods excitedly.

“yunho is really cool,” you shrug, only half agreeing. he feels more like a narc-esque older brother to you, but you daren’t break wooyoung’s spirit. “and there’s so many dead people in that morgue! i can continue my blog without without having to beg rich people to investigate their homes.”

you hum, “and you don’t have to live in that grimy van anymore!” he just shrugs in response.

“funnily enough, the van was never an issue.”

“you’re gross…”

jongho

“jongho?” you call out as you storm your way into the living room. you’ve been kicked out of yeosang’s room, again, and you’re in desperate need of amusement. well, attention would probably be a better way to put it yet somehow your pride refuses to let you admit that. “you are in here right?”

a breeze passes through the room as you sit yourself down on the rug that is inseparable from your friend. you lace your fingers through the fur as the breeze gets stronger. you blink, only a millisecond passing before you open your eyes again. when you do, he’s there, tear tracks on his cheeks and a heavy fur pelt draped over his shoulder. he smiles through the tears, his nose scrunching cutely in a way that makes you adore him even more. for a demon, he’s awfully sweet.

“hello, friend,” he leans in close, the concept of physical boundaries remaining a complicated topic for him. after all, he’s spent months and months just sat watching you and yeosang. it was pretty early on that you found out that jongho just didn’t understand that your friendship with yeosang was entirely different to your friendship with him. he’s never had a friend before; how is he supposed to know that every friendship is different?

“hi, jongho,” you giggle as you rest a gentle hand on his shoulder to push him back onto his haunches. it takes little to no resistance which is just another sign that there is not a single evil bone in his body. it’s hard to even comprehend him as anything but a darling, and you certainly can’t see a ferocious killer. there’s too much kindness in his heart for that. “how’s haunting going?”

“haunting?” he tilts his head in confusion.

“yeah! you’re a ghost occupying a house,” you explain, although the look of confusion never really leaves his eyes, “therefore you’re haunting, jongho.”

“but,” he bites his lip, “i’m not occupying this house by choice! am i still haunting?”

you shrug, realising the topic of conversation is way outside of your breadth of knowledge regarding ghosts. what seonghwa tells you is law, and he never really got into the specifics of haunting. besides, now you’re the one who’s intrigued. you lean in a little closer to him this time.

“what if you did have a choice?” you ask, curiosity filling you up from the tip of your toes right to the very top of your head. “would you go elsewhere?”

it takes mere seconds for jongho to shake it head, and you have to breathe a sigh of relief. the knowledge that he wants to be here is comforting in a way; it means he isn’t really here against his will, even if technically speaking he is.

“why would i want to go anywhere else?” he says, “i have you here, friend.”

[alicenotalice]

A favorite Tangoism of mine is when he comes across some Ridiculous Doc Nonsense (the hourglass, the flood, etc) while streaming and just rolls his eyes, calls it “compensating” and moves on without further comment

[buckingham-ashtray]

john and sherlock bickering over the head of a very dead corpse might just be the most ridiculous thing in the entire show

[messiahzzz]

assorted morena dekarios headcanons:

she possesses a sharp wit and is very perceptive, but is also incredibly kind and gentle

strong presence & really eclectic taste. she loves bright colors, extravagant patterns, collecting paintings, and all kinds of knick-knacks. her house is a reflection of her personality: warm, welcoming, and cluttered with ✨precision✨

has a penchant for big jewelry (especially necklaces)

gale deems her “unavoidable” because she has a way of seeing right through him, sometimes even going beyond motherly intuition (and because you’d spot her everywhere)

she always strongly supported gale’s individuality and wanted to give him every opportunity to grow into the person he wants to be

this often clashes cause she does worry about his safety constantly

on that note: would do absolutely everything for her son

her ex-husband had little interest in raising gale and deemed him too exhausting/high maintenance. morena eventually encouraged his decision to split, knowing his presence would do more harm than good

loves books but doesn’t bother to keep them in good condition (much to gale’s horror)

as he got older their dynamic grew to resemble a friendship, which is also why he refers to her by her first name

they banter a lot and it is very entertaining to watch/makes their similarities even more obvious

surprisingly strict whenever the situation calls for it. it’s a sudden 180. don’t mess with morena dekarios

claims she’s not interested in gossip, but is very curious nonetheless

possesses extensive mixology knowledge, but hates being drunk. life needs to be experienced to the fullest with all senses at all times

she’s a natural dancer despite not having a whole lot of practice

very welcoming to a romanced!tav and the rest of gale’s new friends. she has already been filled in by tara and withers. naturally, as long as her prince is happy she is as well

almost rivals gale in the duration of his crying during his own wedding. once he begins to read his vows she’s immediately brought to tears

actively tries to get to know a romanced!tav and makes sure they feel included in their family whenever possible, but will also respect if there’s no interest/some apprehension

she is very respectful of gale’s privacy and knows when to step back, albeit no less worried

she has dark, long, curly and thick hair that is hard to tame. (the envy of all her neighbors her age) she usually puts it up in a claw

tara has her own corner in morena’s sitting room, including her very own cozy armchair. no one else is allowed to use it.