Idle-Minds

  • Molly : ‘Knowledge’ is knowing that the tomato is a fruit; 'Wisdom’ is not putting it in a fruit salad.
  • John : That was deep.
  • Sherlock : 'Philosophy’ is wondering if that means ketchup is a smoothie.
  • Mary : That was deeper.
  • Mycroft : 'Common Sense’ is knowing that ketchup isn’t a damn smoothie, you nasties.

anonymous asked:

What about the RFA + Unknown seeing MC's big scar, and she got it because she protected them during a dangerous accident or something??

Oh goodness 
These are gonna be after everyone’s good/after endings so spoilers ^^
Also this is going into how MC got the scars, and it’s in the second person POV, so I trigger warning for getting hurt I suppose? Not sure how to tag that. If there’s anything you want me to tag it as, let me know! 
OKAY so Seven isn’t in this because I’m having a major writers block on his. I intended to go back and add him, but everyone else is done and I hate this ask just sitting in the drafts, as I finished a while ago. So I’ll post this now, and when my brain works right again I’ll add him in. Quick thanks to the other monds for helping me with ideas~!
~Mod L

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JUMP GIGA - Tite Kubo and Matsui Yūsei Interview

TN: Here’s Kubo’s response to a question about his creative process and mentions of his health, taken from two pages of JUMP GIGA 2017 vol. 2

Part 1

Kubo Tite X Matsui Yūsei


Creative process secrets

Q&A special.


Two mangaka are gathered here, they have created works that are great hits shining brightly through the history of JUMP. A passionate talk unfolds, extending over two hours!


—- “There is a difference between the things you want to draw and the things you can draw. The creator should draw the things they can draw. That’s what I’ve heard, but what do the two senseis think about that statement?” That is the question from pen name - “Red Pencil san”.

Matsui: First of all, I think Kubo sensei is probably the opposite. You draw the things you want to draw right?

Kubo: That’s right. Because, I think that the things I want to draw, is something I can draw…

Matsui: I thought so…!

Keep reading

A little gift for @gentlesleaze, who seemed to like the idea of Benvolio in armor as much as I did… :)


Rough alarum bells rang out in violent echo through Verona’s streets – yet they were barely heard over the city-wide panic that seemed to grip its citizens by their very throats. Shopkeepers boarded their windows and barred their doors, looking to find some way to protect their goods from pillage and destruction. From open doorways mothers cried out for their children and then quickly pulled them inside to safety. Able-bodied men had been told to find a weapon – although some carried little more than kitchen cleavers and pitchforks – and, once assembled into small companies, to make their way to the city gates to meet the danger that now threatened them all.

An army, led by the duke of Milan, was on its way – and it was growing ever closer as the day progressed. The host numbered eight thousand men, so the rumors said, alongside two thousand German mercenaries well-known for their savagery.

A citizen militia, however set they might be on defending their homes and their families, could do little against such highly-trained soldiers, so the prince had called upon the aristocratic houses, asking that each send forward their best men-at-arms to ride out against the enemy. And so Rosaline had spent the morning hours – like all the women of her house – in a whirl of activity, helping to ready the men for battle and the palazzo for the possibility of protracted siege. She had worked tirelessly, running from one task to the next with little rest, not wanting to let her mind lay idle, not wanting to contemplate what horrors might be unleashed were her Capulet kinsmen defeated and her city taken by the enemy.

The men had at last assembled in the courtyard, fully girded for war, led by her uncle, who sat sternly atop a hulking gray destrier. The women had donned ribbons of Capulet blue in their hair as a measure of support, and even with tears threatening in their eyes, they waved their handkerchiefs as the men departed in a cloud of hoof beats. Only once the dust had settled did it occur to Rosaline that she was tied not to one house, but to two. It was from a sense of duty – and only duty, she told herself – that decided she must go and bid farewell to one last man before he departed for the field of combat.

She did not bother to take a servant – it would have been too much trouble, and besides, she resembled one well enough, a fact that allowed her greater ease of movement through the streets. But the mood outside was riotous, a barely-controlled chaos that seemed ready to erupt at any moment, and so she avoided the crowds, skirting close to buildings and drawing the hood of her cape up over her head as she hastened towards her destination.

As she walked, the streets became less and less familiar – she had few dealings on this side of the river, the heart of Montague power – but she guided herself by landmarks, her eyes continually keeping watch on the tall granite bell tower that guarded over the abbey church of San Sebastiano. His palazzo, she knew, was just there, tucked nearby. It was not as handsome or as grand as her own home, she noted as she approached it from the street, but it bore the trappings of wealth nevertheless.

People were still coming and going from beneath the arched portico, and she hurried inside, hoping that she hadn’t come too late.

Within the house, few took notice of her – she was dressed plainly, after all – and she found herself moving aside to make way for a group of knobby-kneed squires bearing armloads of pikes and brightly-polished poleaxes. She had half a mind to stop one of them and ask where she might find their young master, until she glanced past them, gazing into the wide courtyard beyond.

Near the center of the courtyard, just next to a burbling fountain, a young man was quietly adjusting the leather straps of his horse’s bridle, wrapped deep in thought. Warm sunlight gleamed brilliantly against the burnished steel of his armor, curling over the fluted breastplate and the round pauldrons that encased his shoulders. His arms and legs were similarly covered, and a final plate circled protectively around his neck, ending just below his trimmed hairline. He had set aside his slim rapier, exchanging it for a heavy broadsword that hung from the belt around his waist. Looking at him, Rosaline felt her heart quicken with a sudden jolt. She did not understand how, but her Montague betrothed had been utterly transformed. In her mind, she had associated him with all the callow excesses of youth: irresponsibility, recklessness, a desire to live only for his own pleasure. In front of her, though, with his marble-cut profile and hair turned red and fiery in the rays of the sun, was a man, one arrayed to practice the lethal arts of war. Were it not for the somber, melancholy strain in his eyes, he might resemble Mars himself.

His task complete, he gave the animal an affectionate rub along the length of its muzzle, and moved to place the reins up towards the front of the saddle. With a turn of his head, though, his gaze found hers, his expression at once overcome by surprise and confusion.

Her feet compelled her forward, powered by an urge she did not fully understand, until she was but an arm’s length away from where he stood.  

“My lady… Rosaline…” he said softly, his brows furrowing inward. “Why have you come? Why have you not stayed at your uncle’s?”

The words came slowly, trapped as they were between her head and her heart. “I have come to see you, before you ride out. To offer you a farewell,” she at last replied. “It is only fitting. For we are betrothed, are we not?”

He said nothing to her question, but dismissed it with a sigh and a shake of his head. “The streets are dangerous and the Milanese army almost to our gates. You ought not to have concerned yourself with me.”

She wanted to argue back, to tell him that she would concern herself with what and whom she pleased, to remind him that they were yet unmarried and for now, at least, his will would not prove a master over her own. But she bit back her tongue, knowing that she could not start a quarrel, not now. For she had not come all this way just to let him depart with only foul words having passed between them.

That he might never come back at all was a possibility she had not fully contemplated until this moment.

A curly-haired squire clad in dark red livery approached, carrying a round metal object polished to a high sheen, which he held out for his master to take.

“Your helmet, my lord,” he said.

Her betrothed grasped it tentatively, his gaze following the squire as the young man turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the house, and then finally falling upon the steel helmet in his hands. From his silence, his unfocused gaze, and the pale pensiveness that had begun to cloud his features, Rosaline could tell that he was thinking of the battle to come, perhaps wondering if he would live to see the end of it. She could not say why it pained her so to see him disheartened, for he was nothing to her – and she to him, no doubt – the two of them bound to each other solely by royal decree. Still, some small voice within her urged her to speak, to offer him the balm of what few comforting and encouraging words she had to give.

“In more chivalrous times, they say, a knight would go into combat wearing the colors of his lady, to furnish him with strength and to help him remember what he was fighting for.” She reached up and pulled the blue ribbon loose from her hair, holding it towards him. “Will you wear them for me?”

If he seemed surprised by her words, he said nothing, but raised his arm in acquiescence, allowing her to tie the ribbon around the top of the metal plate that encased his elbow. Once she had finished, she looked up at him once more, noting – with some small pleasure – that his mood had brightened. A ghost of a smile curled along the corner of his mouth, and there was something in his eyes as well, a trace of that brash, sardonic humor she had come to know well since their betrothal.

“Look not so pained, my lady,” he said in gentle mockery. “Perhaps I shall fall in battle, and then you will be free. And as we are not married yet, I’m certain your mourning period would be brief. You should be able to cast aside your black veil by Michelmas at the very least.”

She shook her head, feeling a smile begin to play upon her lips as well.

“If you could try not to die, for my sake at least, I would well be pleased,” she replied, realizing at that moment that she spoke the truth. She was certain – that is, fairly certain – that she had no desire to marry him, but she did not wish to see him taken from this earth. “For black does not flatter me,” she added, “and I would fain not have to wear it for so long a time as that.”

“Now there you are wrong,” he murmured, “as any color would suit, for such a face as yours.”

His compliment was unexpected, as was the warm flutter that stirred within her chest. She pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile – and then, out of some unknown impulse, she leaned over and gave him a small kiss upon the cheek.

His eyes turned wide with surprise, his mouth open to speak, when suddenly a great clamor of shouting was heard throughout the courtyard.

“To arms, Montagues! To arms!”

The rallying cry had been sounded, armored men on horseback now thundering through the courtyard, and Rosaline knew that the moment had come to say goodbye. It seemed far too brief a time to her, though, too brief to voice the thoughts that came unbidden to her mind, too brief to do anything but look back at him, her breath turning raw and unsteady as she met his gaze.

His eyes were like two fierce stars, blazing with determination, but she had little time to wonder why, for without warning he grasped her by the waist and pulled her to him, pressing his mouth firmly against hers. Her palm was flat along the smooth metal of his breastplate, and she might have pushed away, struggled somehow to release herself from his hold. Yet she did not. Instead, she surrendered, her body melting against his as their lips met in passionate desperation.

And then just as quickly, he released her, and after having found his mount and hoisting himself up into the saddle, he circled closer and met her gaze one last time.

“If you would be so kind, lady, as to keep me in your prayers?” he asked. She nodded breathlessly, still feeling the warmth of his lips on hers, and with a spur of his horse he galloped from the courtyard to join his kinsmen, the dark blue ribbon on his arm fluttering against the bright gleam of steel.


[my Still Star-Crossed ficlets are on AO3 – read them here] 

Elusive

Originally posted by ceohan


  • Idol: Park Jinyoung (Got7)
  • Genre: Angst
  • Preview: Jinyoung comes to your apartment really late and unannounced and you get worried. 


Night had become your favorite part of the day. Not necessarily for the sleeping, although that was a huge part of it. It was night that allowed you to digest your day and make plans for the next. You, being an extremely reflective person, needed that time once everything had calmed down to sort yourself out. During the day you were working and it would be simply implausible to even think of enjoying a relaxing silence to placate your mental health.You lie cuddled in your warm duvet, comfortable enough to sleep, but wide awake. You’d already analyzed your day and now your mind sat idle trailing its way,very slowly, to rest.

“Y/N!” The noise frightened you but you quickly recognized the voice and you’d also remembered recently giving  your boyfriend a key to your apartment, though he never came over without calling first. Another yell came but this time it was closer and the slightest bit slurred, not from drunkenness you surmised. It was probably from sleep deprivation.

“In here!” You answer back climbing from under the covers. Jinyoung came into your room grumbling. “In here could be anywhere, you should be more specific.”
“You found me didn’t you?” you answered sarcastically.

 The two of you were facing each other now. He frowned at your bare legs that were on full display thanks to length, or lack of length, of your night shirt. You had on a plain t-shirt that was kind of big, not exactly over-sized but the fabric reached to your upper mid thigh. 

“Where are your pants? It’s freezing in here.”

He walked over to the dresser behind you opening the drawer that had a few of this things. 

You parked your hand on your hip. “I happen to be perfectly fine with the temperature and the last time I checked I pay rent here so I am free to wear whatever I want.” You weren’t mad, just annoyed.

In all truth you were worried Jinyoung wasn’t always in the cheeriest of moods, but he’d never been so grouchy, not with you at least. He sighed. “I’m sorry I’m being snappy. I’m just tired.”

He walked back over and wrapped his arms around you. You leaned up and kissed the bottom of his chin. That sweet interaction was enough to calm to the both of of you. He pulled away and went back to his drawer. 

“Why are you here?” You asked from your new spot on the edge of your bed.

He scoffed.“Am I no longer welcomed here?”

 You rolled your eyes. “Jinyoung, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

He closed the drawer, clearly he’d found what he’d been looking for: shorts

“I’m joking.” 

“You never come here during promotions.”

“ I do sometimes.” he sat next to you on the bed. 

You shook your head. “No you don’t, never at night. You always sleep at the dorms.”

“I can sleep here, can’t I?” His eyes searched your face when you didn’t respond. A worry crease appeared on his forehead. “You really don’t want me here?”

“No Jinyoung.” He grabbed your hand looking more worried.You frowned at your inability to correctly articulate your thoughts “I do. I want you here,” you sighed. “Are you okay?”

Jinyoung was a creature of habit and it wasn’t like him to change up routine, not that he couldn’t be spontaneous, he just usually wasn’t. You didn’t mind that actually you adored his If it ain’t, broke don’t fix it vibe.

“There’s something you’re not telling me. Did you fight with your manager?”

“No.”

“Did you fight with a different staff member?”

“No I-”

“One of the boys?” 

He shook his head. 

“It was JYP, wasn’t it? You yelled at JYP and now you’re getting kicked out of Got7. What the heck happened you are usually so in control of your temper with your superiors. Oh gosh and if you’re out of Got7 what’s in that mean for JJ Pro-”

“Y/N!” His voice was loud enough to quiet your thoughts. “You’re being ridiculous.” He was right, clearly you more tired than you’d thought.

“Well what do you expect? It’s almost 2 AM and you waltz in here all unannounced,which is something you never do.” 

He kissed your cheek. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Jinyoung wait I-” you started but before you could say anything else the bathroom door was clicking shut.You were still worried about your boyfriend but also a little more than ticked that he’d shut the door in the middle of your sentence.

You climbed back into your bed and this time you were half asleep when Jinyoung began calling your name.

“Y/N! Can you come here?” You groaned but got up. 

“What do you want Jin?” He was standing in front of the mirror in the shorts he’d gotten earlier. 

“Will you help me take my makeup off?” 

“Why didn’t you wipe it off in the shower?”

“I guess I just wasn’t thinking.” Jinyoung not thinking? Yeah something was definitely wrong but you didn’t press the issue. He handed you the makeup removing wipes.

“You’re gonna have to sit down on the counter. I can’t reach your face.”

He flashed you a half grin, no doubt thinking of one of his many jokes about  your height but it faded quickly and he sat on the counter as you’d instructed.He placed his hand on either side of your waist to pull you between his legs and then returned them to his lap. You began your work silently, sliding the wipe gently across his face.

“So are you gonna tell me why you’re here?”

“Y/N.” he sighed. You halted your movements with the wipe and searched his eyes for anything that would increase your worries.

“I missed you. We haven’t seen each other in person for almost two weeks.” He tried to capture you in a hug but you placed your hands on his bare chest, stopping him.

“ Jinyoung, the real reason.” He sighed stubbornly as if he wasn’t going to tell you, but he saw how worried you were and relented. 

“Today wasn’t a very good day.”

You opened your mouth to ask but he spoke before you had the chance to.

“I’ll tell you about it later.” You knew that meant when the both of you were in bed, in the dark, where you couldn’t see his face when he spoke. It must’ve been serious because the two of you only had conversations like that when he thought he was gonna cry.

“Okay.” You began to wipe off his makeup again.

“I did miss you though.” You didn’t respond, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Not necessarily because you didn’t believe him but he never did things on impulse and it was definitely an impulsive move to come and see you during his breakneck promotions schedule just because he missed you. And besides he never missed you that much, before. He’d already made it clear that he wanted you to comfort him, why did he feel the need to convince you further by making up feelings? 

“Y/N.” 

You didn’t answer. 

“Y/N, look at me.” he grabbed your wrist softly to stop you from ignoring him with the wipe. 

“I missed you. Really”

“Okay.” you nodded more out of a desire to appease him than anything else.He frowned at your reaction. 

“Jinyoung can I have my wrist back?”

He sighed and released you. After a few more swipes you threw the makeup wipe in the trash. 

“Done.”

“Thank you.” You hummed a quiet you’re welcome and turned to leave but he grabbed your arm and spun you back to facing him. “Thank you.” His voice remained soft.

“ Jinyoung, you already said th-”

This time he proved his sentiment by pressing his lips to yours.The kiss was simple but it was enough to have your heart racing. You wrapped your arms his neck and deepened the kiss. Jinyoung grinned, but eventually he pushed at your hips with his hands, letting you know to calm down. When you didn’t, he pulled away, his sly grin still intact. It was your turn to frown. 

“If we go on like this we won’t be able to stop and we both have to be awake in the next couple of hours.”

You knew he was right. He tugged your arm pulling you into the bedroom. Jinyoung crawled into your bed first and you climbed in right after, hurrying so he could wrap his arms around you. Your apartment really was freezing when you weren’t under the covers. 

When you were finally comfortable enough to lie still in his arms, he pulled you tighter into him, so that his lips were pressed to your braided hair. Almost immediately the two of you were falling to sleep, the comfort of your presence was enough to push an already tired Jinyoung off the edge of consciousness and vice versa. You knew he would probably be gone when you woke up. You weren’t going let him get off that easily. Eventually he’d have to talk to you.


PT.2 ???

mypoorsociallife  asked:

Hi! I absolutely love your work! Could I request Hc's for what the paladins would do if there s/o was taken hostage by the galra or any other bad guys?

Okay so your request was similar to this request, I did that request because it was requested first. Subsequently, this is smaller but you can always go to that one for more head cannons!

Lance

  • he would be really stressed holyyy
  • the type of person to literally self deteriorate okay
  • like this whole burden is on him
  • he has to rescue you
  • he has to find you
  • because he really doesn’t want anything to hurt you
  • somehow, he blames it all on himself, even if he was like in a whole other wing of the ship he doesn’t care you’re his s/o so you are his responsibility

Keith

  • if he lost you, he would try to spend all the time finding you okay
  • he must it’s his thing he can’t lose you he’s already lost just about everyone
  • so i mean he wants to go after the galra ship immediately but when they can’t he gets so pissed
  • every bit of his energy, every one of his breaths, each word that he utters, he want’s it to be dedicated to finding and saving you
  • he can’t lose you, he doesn’t even think about it no matter how long it takes they will find you
  • they need to.

Hunk

  • dedicates everything to finding you
  • he understands that they more or less couldn’t save you at the scene 
  • but that won’t stop him from wanting them to save you the second they get recharged
  • he is so focused honestly he only wants to find you
  • nothing and nobody can stop that

Pidge

  • self conscious but very determined
  • she will probably miss sleep over this whole debacle okay
  • she wants to find you, she needs to find yo
  • she lost matt and her dad because she didn’t act fast enough
  • she is not gonna lose you

Shiro

  • calm as fck okay
  • like not on the scene, but being a good leader means to know when to drop back
  • he didn’t want to lose you he didn’t tell you to sacrifice yourself for him
  • so why did you? it plagues his idle mind. what are they doing to you?
  • so instead he tries to spend all his time finding you
  • but he’s calm okay, not on the verge of a breakdown like pidge or pissed like keith
  • he calm and decisive and whoever got you can consider themselves dead.

anonymous asked:

Tsuna, Xanxus and Gokudera trying to win back their civillian ex

Admin Adelheid

COMPLETE

Tsuna

You dropped on your couch like a log that night, coming home so late for working hard so much. Not only that but you had a fierce argument with your boss because he was practically forcing you into taking a vacation leave.

But how could you?

Leaving your mind idle would only allow the memories to come flooding in and hurt you again.

Tsuna…

Why all of a sudden?

How could he just suddenly tell you he’s grown tired of you?

Not your precious Tsuna. Not that sweet, slightly awkward man who treated you like you were his whole world… But as soon as you asked him about it his usually warm eyes turned cold. Like iced gold. In just one second it felt as though a chasm had opened up between the both of you. All of a sudden he felt like a million miles away and suddenly… he stopped calling. For three weeks you’ve waited. You were still waiting. You felt like a moron.

Even a complete idiot would know what that meant.

BZZZZTTT!!!! BZZZZTTT!!!! BZZZZTTT!!!!

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

The vibrating of your phone and the knocking on your door forced you to open your eyes and you sighed.

You answered your phone as you struggled to get up to answer your door. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hayato?” you asked, confused. “What’s up?”

You heard him cough awkwardly on the other side but spoke gruffly anyway. “I know this is an awkward question but… have you seen him?”

You blinked before smiling sadly, making your way towards the door where another set of knocks came on again. “You know he’s dumped me. He hasn’t called since…”

“…I know but… Please. He’s missing; this is not normal for him. If you see him please… Please let me know!”

Beginning to worry as you listened to Hayato’s pleas you open the door and your eyes widen when you saw the topic of your current conversation leaning against the threshold of your door, his arms crossed over his chest and looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Hayato,” you calmly said through the phone as you stared at Tsuna’s face. “I think you better pick him up.”

“Wha―”

But before Hayato could finish his question the phone was taken from your hand and Tsuna started speaking. “Hayato. Don’t wait up.”

He ended the phone call as he backed you into your apartment and threw your phone on the carpet as he did so.

“I don’t think there’s anything else we need to talk about anymore, Tsuna,” you said as calmly as you can. “You made it perfectly clear that you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Did your boss give you your vacation time?” he asked, ignoring what you just said.

You looked away. It hurt to look into his eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I specifically told him that if you get sick from overworking; I’ll put him in a drum and bury him in cement.”

He said it so coldly, so casually you knew there was no way he was joking. “So that was you?”

“…We need to talk.”

“You didn’t seem interested in anything I had to say before,” you walked around him towards the door to open it for him as you said so. “I think you should leave now.”

But before you could open the door you felt yourself being pressed against it from behind, his hand on the one you had on the door knob and you gasped at the feel of his breath against the shell of your ear as he spoke. “If I were ten years younger I would have given up on this. I know for a fact I’d only cause you pain. I didn’t try to call because… I tried to see if I could still live without you.”

The admission touched a nerve in you but it did not make you angry. Just extremely sad at the struggle he had had to fight with to come to whatever decision he had reached tonight. And you were half afraid this was going to be the last time you’d see him.

“And?” you whispered back as your tears pricked your eyes, your lips trembling from the emotions you’ve been trying to bury all this time even as you whisper out his name. “What did you find out?”

You felt him bury his face in your hair and breathed you in like you were the last source of oxygen on earth. His arms coming around you tightly. “That I’m not fifteen anymore. And I’m not going to walk away from what belongs to me. So I’m sorry… I can’t give you up.”

Xanxus

You felt a migraine coming up as you saw another member of the Varia guarding your front door as you stepped out to go to work for the third week in a row. Fed up, you march towards Levi who was doing an excellent imitation of a stone gargoyle and put your hands on your waist demanding his attention.

“Is he listening?” you asked irritably.

Levi’s answer is to sweat bullets and try to ignore you. Xanxus’ orders were very specific. You were not to be touched or harmed in any way. Anyone who tries will be promised a very painful flaying.

Normally you would be too stubborn to even acknowledge their presence but this was just getting ridiculous.

Grabbing Levi’s ear and dragging the earpiece towards you you started yelling into it. “You JERK! Make them stop! Are you trying to pick a fight with me?! This is the reason why I left you in the first place! Stop hovering and let me live like an ordinary person! I don’t need you protecting me all the time, you paranoid, idiot! Call them all off or I will never forgive you!”

You shoved Levi back and stomped off to work. However, with every step your anger melted away into something sad and aching. It wasn’t like you wanted to break it off with him. But Xanxus’ love was becoming suffocating. It was as if he was determined to have you coddled and watched over twenty four seven. Sometimes you even thought you couldn’t go to the bathroom without being watched.

As your relationship with him progressed it became obvious to you that he was not just an overzealous, arrogant, violent tempered bum you knew so well. Xanxus had always struck you as a man with power. More than just authority, but true blue power. Power that always amazed you were allowed to touch whenever you slept beside him. Whenever you touched him. Whenever you kissed him. And in the end it was the real reason you left him. You grew uncertain.

Uncertain that you will never be good enough for someone like Xanxus. Like you would only get in his way. And though it broke your heart you thought this was better than being a burden to him.

You went on to work as usual and the light feeling you had on your back told you that at least Xanxus listened to your request. You went on with your duties with a bittersweet smile on your face. And when the day ended you went home as usual, thinking of crying yourself to sleep again tonight as you thought about him. Praying you would get over him soon so you could stop suffering.

Suddenly a hand reached out from the darkness and covered your mouth, effectively keeping you from screaming. You were pulled into a dark alley kicking and screaming. You managed to bite the hand holding onto you and managed to get enough breathing room to squeeze out a scream before a fist knocked you down.

Before you lost consciousness you caught a glimpse of crimson eyes burning furiously in the dark.

You woke up in the back of a moving car and terror made you immediately react violently and struggle against the feeling of a pair of hard arms holding onto you like you were a lifeline.

Fuck, quit that, you idiot!”

The familiar rumble of that voice froze you enough to recognize just whose arms were holding you. And there, staring back at you, were Xanxus’ beloved red eyes.

“Xanxus…”

His calloused hand ran feather light against your sore, swollen cheek and the violence that has always been a constant presence in his eyes flared in a fury you had always suspected he was capable of.

“I’m going to keep that fucker alive and in pain as long as I can until your bruises heal. And then I’m killing him with my bare hands.” He promised before gently pulling your chin up to make you look at him. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to touch you with my bare hands.”

You couldn’t help it, your tears fell even as you buried your face in his shirt. “Are you deaf? I told you… We’re through.”

You felt his arms tighten around you even more and you couldn’t help but surrender yourself to the familiar comforting safety his embrace always made you feel even as you heard him speak gruffly. “Like I ever agreed to something that stupid.”

Gokudera

“This is Red Storm to Blue Rain. Do you copy?”

“Blue Rain here reading you loud and clear.”

“Hey, Sunshine. You there?”

“IT’S YELLOW SUN! WHY DO YOU KEEP CHANGING MY CODE NAME?!”

“Because it’s lame, that’s why.”

“Green Lightning, please kindly shut up.”

“I swear I’m coming up with the code names next time you screw up, Ahoudera.”

“Maa, maa, are we ready with the plan?”

“That depends. Do you guys have the item?”

“Right here. Green Lightning just got it to us in the nick of time.”

“Then the mission is a go. Approach subject with caution. Red Storm, out.”

You gaped at the sight of Takeshi and Ryohei standing on your front door holding a very large bouquet of flowers in between them. Now these were two guys you never thought would see again.

“SPECIAL DELIVERY~!” the both of them sang out.

“Umm… What is this?” was all you could ask as both carried the bouquet through your front door and onto your dining room table.

“Just helping out a friend say sorry.” Takeshi replied with his usual grin.

“Yup!” Ryohei gave you a thumbs up. “Hope you make up real soon. He’s miserable without you.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to say that.”

“Tch, and that’s why he’s in this mess,” Ryohei rolled his eyes at the other man. “That Octopus-Head needs to be more honest with his feelings.”

“Anyways please excuse us!” Takeshi waved at you as he and Ryohei stepped out of the door.

“W-wait!”

You froze when Takeshi pinned you with a smile and hazel eyes that seemed much too serious than he normally was. “Please keep in mind. Everything he does, he does it to keep you safe.”

You blinked back. “…How is working at the post office supposed to keep me safe?”

Their only response were twin grins from both athletic men before they both stepped out of the house and you were left with that enormous bouquet in your dining room. When you came closer you somehow saw the note buried in the flowers. Opening it up you couldn’t help the watery smile that crossed your lips as you read the written message.

‘I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.’ -Hayato

You sighed and sat down on a dining room chair, contemplating the bouquet of flowers on your table even as you held on to the note in your hand.

“Stupid Hayato,” you mumbled out as you stared at a blushing tulip with troubled eyes. “I already know you’re an idiot and I love you despite that. I just want to know why you keep ending up wounded all the time. Stop keeping secrets from me, moron.”

Hayato listened to your words through an ear piece via the tiny listening device he had had Lambo add into the bouquet at the last minute as he lay in bandages on a medical wing bed and smiled sadly.

If only it were that simple…

Summer Heat

I want to be the summer of your heart
intoxicating late-night, twilight moons

a warm dance that idles in your mind
enchanting, painted hues
sultry as soft winds
dancing, nuanced I love yous
as rustling leaves move through lofty trees
we…consummate in sultry heat

our affair…an oasis, a spiritual retreat
hushed by the sound of midnight’s hour
caressing comfort, embracing lust

you are first and forever after

outsoaring my mind
my black rose, my resplendent flower

your tantalizing silken petals
are my longing just past dusk
when shadows and darkness of twilight
overtake searing summer sun
and our unspoken, forbidden love
sears and smolders
upon silent, saturated sheets…

you are my unusual summer heat

A beautiful poetry collaboration between the very talented writer
Chris B @followcb and myself Lauren @lzlabs

Thank you Chris for this.




Prompt #32: I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.

For: @michonnesbooty

The moon is high in the dark sky. The small church in the middle of the woods is alive with movement, contrary to the still trees around them. Candles line the floor and the windows as they crack open bottles of wine, pouring each other glasses of the sweet, red nectar. They keep their voices hush, just in case there is danger lurking, but they laugh and tell stories of their old lives as they chow down on peas and carrots, canned string beans and creamed corn. It’s no dinner for the Gods, but it’s dinner. Not one of them can honestly remember the last time they had a meal that didn’t consist of wild berries and flower petals (or worms, in Daryl’s case). Rick keeps the young Judith occupied as she feeds him string beans, one at a time. He plays with her chubby feet as Tyreese leans over to make a goofy face at her. The samurai sits on his left, letting her thin, skilled fingers brush through the little girls’ blonde hair before she returns her attention to Abe’s loud and boisterous story.

She laughs and he freezes. His chest tightens at the sound and he’s suddenly aware of how close she is sitting to him. It’s been so long since he’s heard her laugh. Sure, either Glenn or Carl or hell, even Daryl, will draw a giggle from her but it’s so fleeting. It’s always gone before it even really gets started. But this laugh; this laugh is so good. So full. So warm. So alive. Her leg brushes up against his and he has to take a breath. Don’t start this again. You’re not… Lori hasn’t been gone long…

A few hours pass and his family has spread out through the church. Carol slipped out without being noticed. Daryl went out for a smoke and Bob, well, Bob is being Bob out front, “guarding” the door. Maggie is stretched out on one of the pews with Glenn leaning against the long, wooden bench by her head. She is positioned at Maggie’s curled knees, eyeing the green eyed Southern belle and her beau as she speaks. Rick doesn’t even hear the words coming out of her mouth, as he’s transfixed by her mouth. Those plump lips moving and curling up as the small group shares a laugh. She is so beautiful. Her locs fall over her shoulders, brushing against her dark skin with a subtlety, just as his fingers itch to. Her brown leather vest hugs her torso and chest, accenting those two healthy mountains perched proudly beneath her purple tank. He’s lost so many hours fantasizing about running his tongue through the valley of her breasts. Teasing her thick, hard nipples. Swirling around her dark, round areola.

He slams his eyes shut, angrily almost. You have to fucking stop this shit. Jesus. She laughs again and it breaks through the muddled white noise of his daydream, rattling him to his core. He can’t take it. He stands quickly and takes off toward the doors, Carl’s eyes on him as he retreats. He bursts through the wooden double doors and closes them behind him, leaning against them as he draws a deep breath of fresh air. Daryl and Bob are both gone, but at this point, Rick wouldn’t have noticed them anyway. He sinks down on the rickety step and drops his head into his hands, wringing his fingers through his dirty, long hair. He can’t take it anymore. This thick feeling crushing his chest. It’s like an elephant sitting on him, sinking on him harder and harder every day. This is different, you know that. That’s what this is.

He doesn’t just want to fuck her, although, he’d sink to his knees and praise God if he ever got the chance to. It’s been so long for him, but that’s not it. It’s not. He just wants to be there. He wants to be there when she wakes up in the morning. He wants to be the first person she lays eyes on and the last person she sees before she falls asleep. He wants to hold her hand as they walk. He wants to listen to her as she cries lightly. He wants to be the one to make her laugh. He wants to console her, bathe her, touch her. He wants to love her. From now until the end of time, and then for a thousand years after the end. He doesn’t want to just fuck her. He wants to be hers. Completely.

Problem is, he already is. He’s already hers. He thinks she’s owned him since that day at the fence. Even Carl felt it; knew that she was different. Rick isn’t good with different. Never was. Lori knew it and hated that about him. But she knew, deep down, that she wasn’t different. That’s why he was so quiet, so content, so familiar with her. She didn’t have what it took to challenge him. To make him uneasy. To make him wonder. That’s why they fought. That’s why she screamed at him, called him every name in the book and then some. That’s why she hated him. Because she knew that he knew she wasn’t enough for him anymore.

In some ways, he was happy Lori didn’t make it at the prison. It would have killed her to see him fawning over this new woman. She’d be incredibly jealous from the start, just at the samurai’s mere skill with her weapon, her tenacity, and her strength. Both physical and mental. Something Lori never possessed. But to see her husband, who had barely acknowledged her presence for the past nine months, fall in love with her. That’d crush her. That would end everything that she knew with a finality that couldn’t be erased. And, no matter how cruel she was or had been to him, he could never return the favor. Not like that.

His heart pounds in his chest, feeling as if his ribs might break from the pressure. He just admitted it. He knows what it is; this thick feeling. He loves her. Deeply. Uncontrollably. Honestly. Rick loves Michonne. He takes another breath, sliding his eyes toward the dense trees at his right. Why is he so scared? It’s not the thoughts of Lori, that’s guilt. It’s not what anyone else would think, that’s irrelevant to him. It’s because he can’t do it again, he can’t lose another one. No, that’s not it either. It’s not that he can’t lose another one. He can’t lose the only one. He loved Lori, but not like this. It didn’t encompass him, it didn’t consume him, it didn’t eat away at everything he knew to be true. Not like this. That’s what terrifies him. Losing Her. God, if he wasn’t already filled with enough guilt.

He also wants to be enough. For her. For her love, for her attention, for her time. That’s what scares him too. That he won’t be enough. So, he swallows harshly. Swallows his pride, his love for her, his fears and his impending happiness. He swallows it all and hides it away in the little box that was once only occupied by his feelings toward Lori. He takes another breath, his heartbeat calming, the elephant slowly lifting from his chest. He can’t think about this. There’s too much for them to focus on for him to be moping around like a love-sick puppy. Like not dying. Like, trying to find a place for his children to lay their heads. Like, trying to stay together. So, he pushes it away and stands. He takes another breath. He walks back into the church, closing the doors behind him, and trudges over toward the terrified Father.

He occupies his mind with idle threats of a swift death for the suit clad man, “You’re hiding something, and it’s pretty obvious it’s something you can’t hide from. That’s your business,” He says lowly, his eyes shifting between the Fathers’ wide gaze, “But these people, these people are my family. And if what your hiding somehow hurts them in any way, I’ll kill you.”

And now, he’s ready to kill for her too.

anonymous asked:

How would the Yandere!Allies treat their s/o, after they kidnapped them?

America/ Alfred F. Jones- You’re his lovely darling, aren’t you? So you’ll be treated like it. He’ll make you anything you want….at any time. Midnight and you need food? Done deal. 3am? Fine. He learns to get out of meetings so he can keep an eye on and spend time with you. Be careful because he has a tendency to overfeed you. He makes you sleep in his bed, because that’s where you belong.

Canada/ Matthew Williams- Closer to a queen. You’ll have your own bedroom that’s decorated with all the things he knows you love. You’ll have your own television, gaming system(s), no Wi-Fi of course…but that’s okay, he’ll play with you all the time! He won’t let you get lonely…he loves you too much! He’s at your beck and call every single moment of the day.

China/ Yao Wang- Also a Queen, expect with the limitations of his own room. Still, you’ll be fed and taken care of on a strict schedule. Because he’s afraid that if you don’t have structure you’ll be upset, and oh he can’t have that! He’ll teach you to sew and knit, any hobbies that are good to keep you busy. After all, an idle mind is such a terrible thing…

England/ Arthur Kirkland- Slightly like a pet, but not the way you’re thinking. He may at first visit your room only to give you food and make sure you’ve not gone insane. But he’s so convinced his sweet little captive hates him…you do, don’t you? He knew this was a bad idea! How can he make it up to you? A cake? Maybe some other sweets? You’ll like that won’t you? Maybe he’ll move you to his room…yes, that’s better, seeing him more will ease your frazzled head. And perhaps even his own. 

France/ Francis Bonnefoy- You’ll be in his room of course, since it’s the best one in the home. But you want your own? He’d rater not. Can’t you sleep with him? You get so cold at night…he has to warm you up, no amount of blankets can wrap around you like he can. So you’ll stay there? Good! Then it’s extra special dinner for tonight! Even though every days it’s a five star meal…he’ll find a way! Maybe extra dessert? Anything you want…whenever you want it.

Russia/ Ivan Braginsky- You’ll have your own room…unless you want to sleep with him? He promises not to let his hands wonder…too much. No really! Sunflower you have to sleep with him tonight, it helps the dark thoughts stay away. You’re a beam of sunlight. You’ll stay right? He’ll let you go outside tomorrow, won’t you like that? You can both explore the garden. Pick flowers…anything you want to do, please just let him hold you.

anonymous asked:

Headcanons for Gaara, Kankuro and Shikamaru with a s/o who smokes for stress and emotional related reasons

Shikamaru, Gaara and Kankuro Having an S/O That Smokes for Stress and Emotional Reasons

Originally posted by shinobi-bonds

Shikamaru

Completely unfazed by it, he spent so much time with Asuma who smoked regularly. He won’t make a big deal out of smoking ever, he understands that there are a variety of different reasons people choose to smoke and if it’s stress related for you he’s ready to accept that’s your way to calming down.

He’s the type to buy you cigarettes before you run out. He has wrapped his head around the idea that you can become very irritable when you don’t have cigarettes, which is trouble some if you starting getting snippy with him, so he always makes sure you have enough.

It’s really rare, but every once and a blue moon Shikamaru will join you for a smoke. It’s usually only when something highly frustrating has arisen or some tragic event has occurred. Even Shikamaru hates to admit it but he uses an occasional cigarette to calm down or easy his mind – it’s his way of being closer to Asuma and remembering him too.

Originally posted by dailynaruto

Gaara

No matter how you present it, Gaara has trouble accepting the idea of his partner smoking – even if it is for emotional issues and stress relief. Gaara really struggles with the idea that it’s bad for your health and he sees it as harming yourself essentially and he just can’t stand the idea. He will try and accept it for a while because he hates the thought of changing people but eventually he will not remain idle.

In his mind, Gaara is dead set on helping you quit, he is afraid of seeing you sick later in life. He will try limit the amount you have each day and slowly ween you off them. If you make good progress, Gaara will find ways in which you can replace the habit of smoking with other activities that help relieve stress. He might suggest some exercise or maybe chewing gum – anything that will replace the habit of smoking.

When it comes to emotional issues, Gaara will try his hardest to work through them together. He has his own personal demons and he fights them frequently, so he isn’t going to back down from helping his partner fight them – especially if it’s for a healthier life style in the long run.

Originally posted by emrys-ambrose

Kankuro

Kankuro thinks smoking is fine, in some cases he finds it sexy and attractive in a partner, it gets them that rougher persona. He isn’t the type of make a fuss or ask them to quit, he also realizes that people have their own ways of coping with stress. If he sees you smoking a lot or more than usual he will sit you down and ask what is going on, because he knows your nervous habits and he always wants to help you cope.

Kankuro might even be tempted to smoke with them, he’s the type that can get into his partner’s own habits. He can be cheap too, and will be the guy who bums cigarettes off strangers to smoke with you – just so you can have some cordial conversation and a few laughs over a cigarette.

Though it might seem like he’s lying, Kankuro will say he likes that lingering smell of smoke on you. He doesn’t want you to be self conscious about your need to smoke, and having s/o that smokes makes you seem tougher in his eyes.