i hope to be known for this

i would love to see a Blizzard animation in which Genji has trouble against a strong opponent and Hanzo makes an appearance to help him by shooting an arrow by them – not only to make his presence known, but in an attempt to distract the enemy from further harming his brother. then both Hanzo and Genji give one another the look™ and take on the opponent together.

anonymous asked:

Can I get a nurseydex soulmate mark au? Where they both angsty but fall in love

Wordcount: ~1000
Rating: G
Summary: Dex has known Nursey was his soulmate for more than two years, too bad he hasn’t done anything about it. 
A/N: Thanks for the ask! I hope you like it :) 

“Never have I ever met my soulmate.”

It wasn’t a shock that Bitty drank, nor when Ransom and Holster tapped their beers together in solidarity before gulping from theirs. When Nursey took a long pull from his own drink it was a surprise to every person in the room - except Dex.

Dex knew Nursey had met his soulmate, he had known since the first day of their Taddy tour when their eyes met across the room and Dex’s entire world exploded in a cacophony of color. Nursye’s face had lit up, only to fall a moment later when Dex turned away. Dex had suspected he was gay for a long time, but having that as confirmation send him into a panic. By the time he had recovered enough to begin breathing again, Nursey had walked away.

And Dex - well Dex had never gotten up the courage to confront him. Nursey was handsome, smart, and charming. Why would he want someone like Dex? It was Dex who’d end up alone in life, too ornery and broken to be loved.

“I didn’t know you’d met your soulmate,” Chowder said, first one to break the silence following Nursey’s revelation.

Dex took a sip of his drink, but everyone else was too focused on Derek to notice.

“Who is it?” Tango asked, eyes wide and trained on Nursey.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! I saw that post where an anon asked you to tell us which songs remind you of the RFA. Can you elaborate on Ray!Sarean? I've heard Forest Maiden before and I think that scene would be too cute! Thank you!

OH MY GOSH SOMEONE ACTUALLY UNDERSTOOD MY LOVE FOR THIS SCENE LOL.

Thanks for the question, anon! And to anyone who comes across this post, I hope you read this while listening to this song. Also, the post that the anon is talking about is here.

*Ray! Saeran*

It was breathtaking.

The moment MC and Ray stepped into garden, MC had known from then that this would be a very magical night. After all, she never knew that a place like this actually existed. All this time, she thought that this view can only be found in fantasy movies.

But what she’s seeing right now is totally real.

There were fireflies all around, emitting light to the otherwise dark garden. The flowers were in full bloom, and if it was possible, it seemed to her that they are actually glowing. There was even a lake ahead, shimmering and crystal clear.

And then there’s the moon.

It was full. It was so beautiful.

The place was simply so magical that MC actually forgot how to speak. She was so distracted by beauty that she didn’t notice Ray behind her, obviously nervous and feeling unconfident.

“Do… do you like it?” Ray said, effectively gaining back MC’s attention.

To his surprise, MC gave him a wide smile. It was a smile so pure and happy that Ray’s heart couldn’t help but to skip a beat.

“I… I made this garden while thinking of you.”

MC’s smile grew even wider. And now, even her eyes were shining as bright as the moon. Ray’s heart was now beating fast. He had never felt like this before. But he knew what it was. It’s… love.

Ray then offered his hand to her. And MC, understanding Ray’s intention, took the hand. And right there and then, under the moonlight, they pulled each other close and started waltzing. While imagining a song that only they could hear, they took a step together… and then another.

MC…”Ray started, “You… will stay with me, right?”

MC suddenly froze on her track, her smile disappearing from her face.

Ray’s face immediately fell after seeing MC’s reaction. Would he be… abandoned again?

“Ray… you know very well that I will leave this place. I know that I came here of my own will. But I know the truth now, Ray. And I want to leave. The question is now for you, Ray… will you leave with me?”

“I will.” Ray said without hesitation, much to their surprise.

It was then that Ray realized, that this love he is feeling right now… might just be able overcome his past, his angers and his fears.

I will let her save me.” Ray finally thought.




MORE MYSTIC MESSENGER STUFF HERE

anonymous asked:

Are you still doing little drabbles/headcanons? I was wondering if you could do one about Harry being preciously ticklish and Louis using that to his advantage when harrys being bratty and also in soft sweet tender moments?

i know you asked for more than this but i kind of just like this… Thing so i hope it’s ok!

Harry’s all about, like, taking preventative action. He tends to get nervous and frazzled in the fallout, so he’d rather avoid it altogether.

“I’m really ticklish,” Harry tells Louis, sort of randomly. Preventative.

It hasn’t been all that long since they’d met — hardly long enough for Harry to be as enamored as he is — but Harry knows Louis is a fucking menace, has been on the receiving end of a twisted nipple more than a few times by now. 

Because of this, he also should’ve known that Louis would only delight in this newfound knowledge, and that there is no possible preventative action Harry could take that would ward off Louis Tomlinson in all his whirlwind, somewhat demonic teenage glory.

“Oh, is that so?” Louis asks, raising a brow. They’re curled together on the floor in front of the couch, for some reason, and Harry lifts his head off of Louis’s chest to peer up at him, eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you the most ticklish?”

If Louis thinks Harry’s just going to answer that, or break down when he levels Harry with an imploring look, or shiver when Louis runs a fingertip down the length of his cheek, he’s —

“Um, probably my stomach, and the back of my neck.”

— absolutely fucking correct. 

God, Harry’s hopeless, and it’s not fair that Louis can just — do this to him, can just have this effect on him. Harry is only and very unfortunately human, after all. 

He doesn’t realize his mouth has fixed into a pout until Louis traces his fingers down from Harry’s cheek and pinches his bottom lip in between them, grinning.

“Thanks for trusting me with this… sensitive information,” Louis teases, and promptly rolls Harry onto his back, straddles his lap, and tickles the living hell out of him.

anonymous asked:

tbh i don't trust feminism that disregards the harmless feelings of men. even privileged men. if the emotions aren't coming from entitlement, misogyny, aggression, etc. then what's the issue? the emotional constipation of toxic masculinity is a known problem, it's a big reason for male aggression and violence, so how is it productive to make fun of mens' innocent feeling? especially crying. oh my god. uncritical "male tears" shit kills me. i hope i'm making sense?

Yeah. Its one of those issues I’m two ways with. Cause like, the “male tears” thing is a specific reference to men being whiny babies wrt to feminism and etc. and also how a lot of media and discussion is centered around the poor feelings of men with little to no regard to women’s feelings.
But it def has been used to invalidate and mock men for valid feelings and it gets out of hand. Like everything does. But yeah feminism that doesn’t tackle ALL the issues caused by the patriarchy, including the effects of toxic masculinity, isn’t considered feminism in my books.
Acknowledgement that men are encouraged to repress emotions and never admit to them or express them should happen when people are making jokes like that so they can examine whether what they’re saying is actually harmless, or reinforcing expectations put on by the the patriarchy.
If someone comes out with a “its always harmless and can never be harmful bc men are oppressors” it’s strayed a little too far into radfem territory and isn’t actually helpful at all to anyone.
So think of it a little less in terms of “men can’t be hurt by women bc they oppress us so anything against them is inherently harmless,” and more in terms of “does this logic/behavior support the patriarchy” bc even if its primarily targeting men, reinforcing patriarchal pressures hurts EVERYONE.

Request from a cute lil’ anon:  Can I request Jack with a partner who suffers from depression and anxiety? Maybe they’ve been doing so well and suddenly has a relapse one day.

A/N: I hope it’s what you wanted! x

also probably TW: depression, panic attacks


He had known about her depression and anxiety for almost as long as he’d known her. She had been very open with him from the start, wanting to make sure he knew what he was signing up for with her. He had no hesitations, he had been instantly infatuated with her. But, to be honest, she had been doing so well for the past few months that he barely ever thought about it. Sometimes she would get nervous about calling people on phone, she was always scared to meet new people and sometimes she was anxious about seeing anyone at all but him. Some days she would sit quietly on the windowsill, not speaking for a few hours, sometimes she found it hard to get out of bed, but mostly she functioned perfectly smoothly and went about her life with a smile.  She had told him about the bad days but he’d never seen one, so he didn’t think about them.

That’s is, until one particularly grey winter’s morning when he woke to find her lying on her back, stock still, eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling. She looked but didn’t see, and her hands trembled softly by her sides.

“Y/N, are ye okay?” he croaked, instantly awake and worried.

She didn’t say a word, but when he went to wrap comforting arms around her, her chest heaved and she began to hyperventilate. He snapped his hands back and sat up beside her. Fear scurried through him as he racked his brain for the right course of action. He tried to remember everything she’d told him about her anxiety and that best ways to calm her down.

“Y/N, it’s okay. Umm… just breath, okay?”

Ye’re a moron, Lowden, a bloody moron.

Ye got up and hurried to her side of the bed. He pulled the duvet off her, hoping it would make her feel less claustrophobic, and sat down beside her. He held her hands, offing himself as a lifeline, an anchor.

“Y/N, I’m here. Look at me… that’s it, good girl.” Her eyes met his and he saw her panic, like a rabbit in the headlights.

“Yer alrigh’, I promise, jus’ keep looking at me. Can ye sit up for me love?”

Grasping his hands tightly, and with is help, she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

“Well done, good job.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek. She seemed to relax a little at the contact.

“I wan’ ye to take a deep breath now, okay? Ye can do it,” he said, and breathed deeply in illustration. “In… out…” he intoned rhythmically. She tried to follow him, nodding as he spoke, breathing with him. He kept encouraging her and eventually her grip on his hands loosened and the tension in her shoulders dissipated.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” she said, collapsing into his chest.

“Ye’ve nothin’ to be sorry about, pet,” he cooed, placing a kiss on her head.

He grasped her tight against him as he felt her body shaking. She sobbed silently into his shoulder and his heart sank. He couldn’t bear seeing her cry.

All day she was gloomy. She hovered like the ghost of herself, silent and chilly, not touching her food. Sitting, staring out of the window, she ignored Jack for most of the day. When he placed a cup of tea on the table beside her she didn’t even acknowledge him. He saw it there an hour later, untouched and stone cold. She stared out at the street, not even people-watching – there were no people, just a grey, empty street of concrete and steel. When he asked her why she was looking at it, she replied, “I find it comforting to see the world as bleak and vacant as me.”

Her voice monotone, her face expressionless, she turned back to the window, oblivious of him again. He had to bite his lip to hold back the tears. He knew this wasn’t her, just a shadow of herself cast by her mental illness, but that didn’t make it any easier to witness. He wanted to reach out and hold her, to pull her back into herself, to infuse warmth into her skin again with his own. His hand reached out, just an inch, towards her before he stopped himself. The pain of her flinching away from him would be altogether too much.

He spent the next few hours trying to focus on the new script he had been given. He sat behind her, always there to keep an eye on her, but tried to let his mind get lost in his character. He kept replacing the cup of tea periodically, making sure she had a fresh cup if she wanted it. She never touched it. After a while, still far too early for bed, she drifted back into the bedroom and he followed, lingering in the doorway. He watched as she pulled off her jumper and leggings, leaving her in a strappy vest and undies, and crawled slowly back into bed. She cocooned herself in the sheets and nestled her head in the pillow several times before she got comfortable. She didn’t close her eyes though, just stared at the wall.

“Are ye cold pet?” he said gently, keeping his voice hushed so as not to startle her.

Her head rapidly turned to meet his gaze, and he saw a little of the vacancy had drifted from her eyes. Instead she looked unnerved.  

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice groggy from the day’s disuse.

“Shall I get ye a hot water bottle?”. She shook her head.

He lingered for a moment longer, toying with himself as he decided if the idea that came to him was a good one. Screw it, he thought, pulling of his shirt and shimmying out of his jeans, leaving him in boxers, as he clambered into bed. He shuffled in behind her, pulling her into his chest and letting her feel his heat against her cold skin. She nestled into him and entwined her fingers into his, which then rested on her stomach. He nuzzled into her shoulder, kissing the skin exposed there, in an attempt to radiate his love towards her.

They lay in silence, listening to the gentle purr of their breathing drift in and out of time with each other.

After a while her thin voice, like a whimper, intruded into their reverie, “I’m sorry Jack. I don’t know why I’m like this today…”

He hushed her, stroking her hair lovingly, “Don’ be sorry, it’s not yer fault.”

“I thought I was getting better.”

“Ye are, love, it’s just a bad day. Tomorrow’ll be better. Look, I know I don’t understand what’s goin’ on in yer head, but I’m always here, alrigh’?”

She nodded, “I know.”

“I love you, exactly as ye are.”

Only her heavy, sleep-filled breathing was the response.

anonymous asked:

Hello! Hope I am not bothering you, but do you have any headcanons on Grandma Duck and her kids Quackmore, Eider and Daphne(I like to imagine this is their birth order btw)? We know so little of them so they hardly get any attention. I like to wonder about Granny duck relations with each of them, then in turn their relations with Donald, Feth' and Gladstone, it's just such an untouched subject! Thank you for your time!

Sorry it took so long to reply to this ask, Anon.

You’re right, there’s very little known about them. In my own head I kinda assume their birth order is Eider, Quackmore, and then Daphne being the baby of the bunch. She ‘inexplicably’ always found herself doing the least amount of work on the farm growing up, to Grandma’s exasperation. But not much was done to remedy that.:D

Headcanons under the cut:

Keep reading

the-true-space-fandom  asked:

any good fanfic recommendations? monochrome or ladybug preferred

Weeeeeeeell, ladybug is a ship that i found cute but I’ve never read any fanfic of it. BUT! If you are searching for Monochrome fanfic believe me I am your woman OwOb

Okay first of all, You’ve got to read @texanredrose​ mono fics which are well known to be numerous and fucking great :


- Fighting for Us : A very long military AU one shot that is always a pleasure to reread =w=

- Speak Now : A one shot semi-canon au that take place after the events of Vol 3 ( way waaaaaay after )  where Blake and Weiss are both idiots stuborn dorks

- Looking Back : A one shot modern AU this time. Blake asked Weiss to prom and got shot down. But maybe there’s more to that~~

- Defector : So this one’s sorta an “what if Blake was still in the wf and  was about to attack Weiss Schnee” AU one shot

- Black Cat Song: This is Hallowen! This is Hallowen!~~ Do you like Hallowen ? Do you like Christmas ? Do you like Nightmare before Christmas ? Well then this fic is made for you! Multiple chapters, mono fluff and angst with happy ending, what more could you ask for =w= ? (IF IT WASNT OBVIOUS THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE )

- Saga of the Dango : Only pure fluff where Blake get jealous of a dango and is ridiculous as always =w= ( with elderburn )

- Pour Enough : A prohibition AU, with Blake as the bartender speakeasy and Weiss as the bar’s new singer. Pretty much love at first sight =w=( even if Blake will deny it hehehe )

- It’s Funnier In French : ( i actually helped a little with this one uwu ) A one shot AU with German runaway Weiss and French Blake “I just used the most terrible pick up line ever and I’m so embarrased” Belladonna

- Of Love and Politics : Modern AU with Weiss as the governor daughter and Blake as an escort. Bonus: Weiss telling Jacques-ass to go fuck himself like the queen she is!

- Wrong Side of Heaven : A. Fucking. Angel/ Demon AU! With Blake as a Fallen Angel and Weiss as a pride Demon, what are you even waiting for?!

- Joint Venture : Blake and Yang both has internships at the SDC after graduation, working under COO Weiss and CEO Winter. And of course these 2 dorks has crushes on their hot boss, while their boss are mourning because they’re sure their cute interns are dating each other

- Loyalty : Read it. Just. Read it. This tex first mono fic ( and first rwby fic ) and also the best entrance in a fandom ever. But before you comment on it and point out incoherences : wait till the end. Everything will became clear.


Okay so that is for all of Tex mono fics. Now if you have already read all of those I advice you @keena-kapu​ mono fics

- Remnants of Heart : A PIRATE AU MONOCHROME FIC! Seriously you have to read it, its awesome =w=

- The Rock AU Monochrome version : Everything is in the title =w=. Also veeeery NSFW  and hot and reeeally great

- “For the last time, I AM NOT JEALOUS!” : Yeeeeah, Weiss is totally jealous hehehehe


You also have some of @redsuitwriter​ fics too :

- Two Kingdoms : A very interesting Medieval AU

- Where Flowers Bloom: Very fluffy, adorable story with elderburn and pyrruby in bonus =w=

- A Mile in Her Ears : Weiss thought she could win against her gf at a game of strip poker. It didnt really turned out the way she wished hehehe

They probably made more mono fics but idk them all so if you do, i would love you forever if you could tell me about them


And @donesses :

- Blake Has a Nightmare :  Everything is in the title except the fact that Weiss comfort Blake like the totally straight gal pal that she is no homo right

- Scars : A pretty good and very interesting retelling of the RWBY canon with mono, nuts and dolts ( and a jaune that i like for once ziuoefhoaeijfoaeid )


And if that still is not enough, here are some of my personal favorite fics :

- Catnip : Heh come on now, what mono shipper doesn’t know Catnip :3 ? ( if you dont, god im so jealous cos now you’ve got so much to read! )

- Weiss vs Zweinophobia : Where Weiss decides to help Blake overcome her “fears”

- Darling we’re chess pieces : By god, please. For the love of god read it. Its a fucking Monochrome one shot modern soulmate AU. But not the kind you might think, and its just soo good hnng

- Winter’s Blessing : Before asking the “big question”, Blake wants to know if she hasthe approval of the great Oschneesama =w=

- An Evening At Malachite’s : Weiss is dragged into a strip club by Yang and Ruby, and though she did complained at the beginning she end up with a pretty good surprise =w=

- Belladonna Lilies : I mean…..why would you want to read that….It’s just a Fantasy Victorian era monochrome AU……with 71 chapters…..and slowburn….nothing to see here right :3c ?

- The House of Belladonna-Schnee : Having four children isnt easy, and Blake and Weiss know that more than anyone hehehehe


Phew, there’s probably a lot I’ve forgot but anyone can feel free to add moar to this list if they want ^^

anonymous asked:

❝ what do I want? I want to kiss you a thousand times before undressing you & kissing every bit of your flesh a thousand more times. ❞ with uh Fin & Sve but Fin is sayin it?????

((Hope you like it! ❤ @nordicswonderland ))

All that Tino had come to dread was finally happening.

In these final days of what he has known, the notes of pleasantry, revelry and excitement course through the air in anticipation of what is to come; the final commencement of a ceremony, one that has been wrought for centuries, passing from descendant to descendant; father to son. The making of a prince, into a king. Through eternal marriage, one that will last a lifetime.

Yet the events of each day, busy with preparation for such a happening, have barely reached past the fog of introspection and numbing dread that clouds Tino’s mind. Already, he is tired of the formality, the falseness apparent; the weariness of pretending that he has a true place in the life of his love, save for their illicit embrace in the warmth of his bed.

Still, he yearns to be as lighthearted and carefree as he once was, when he was certain of his home here. But any joy he can possibly hope to feel, is kept at bay by how trapped he feels, how sickened he is at the prospect. Berwald, his love, will soon be betrothed to another. The woman, with a heart of ice and a mind to match it.

He had always known that this day would come, that as soon as he had become Berwald’s lover, that there would be a day where he would be forced to step aside for one who is blessed under the law, the watchful, reproaching eye of tradition; concepts that are far from him and his understanding.

Yet, a prince still must become a king, regardless of what Tino wants. And what is a King without a Queen? It does not matter that Berwald does not desire a bride, for more reasons than one would think, than what could become known. No, they would never know. Despite Berwald’s reassurances that he will do everything in his power to keep them together, Tino fears what will become of himself, once she has made her place in this kingdom. He knows that he belongs to Berwald, as he belongs to him; as they belong to each other. But in the world of influence and vice, politic and fear…

Anything can happen.

Each burning kiss can fizzle and fade, forced into a complicit silence; every touch newly quick and light, never lingering. Tino knows that he can be pushed to the side, and forgotten.

Already, Tino feels the burn of silent judgment from both commoners and royalty alike; ugly disdain kept well behind a veil of politeness. Along with each flicker of fear, felt deep within him, rushing through him at every whispered what if, before being smoothed over into that of quiet willfulness. As he shut his eyes, playing along; and he does not know if it is brave or merely foolish.

At the center, their love is pure, fulfilling. Yet there is an inherent imbalance between royalty and his own position, which is little more than that of a courtesan; although he has only shared Berwald’s bed. Yet even the purest hope can fall; taint can creep in. Unannounced.

As Berwald’s voice finally reaches him, when Tino finally snaps back into reality from the quiet contemplating of his mind; taking in Berwald’s gaze from where he sat beside him, in his chambers, a home to him that he would soon be forced from. Berwald was always so concerned; too observant, for his own good.

“You are distant today.“

“It is just..” Tino quietly began, his own need to hide, to pretend that his life will remain the same, cutting off his words at the source. “Nothing.”

“Please, if you are unhappy, there must be something to make you happy. I promise it all.”

But what is a promise? What can be promised, save for divine intervention to change what had already been set in place?

Promise to never leave me. Never let me go.

Burning wishes, if only they could be true. If only.

Yet, Tino’s traitorous tongue instead took him down the path of neutral complacency; treading softly, always. He would never call what was to come happiness. This hidden love, soon to be rendered nearly invisible. Yet he can withstand it. He always has. He is powerless to fix it; and what has he but the ability to pretend that everything is all right; before it all goes wrong?

“What do I want? I want to kiss you a thousand times before undressing you and kissing every bit of your flesh a thousand more times.“ Tino brought himself to whisper against Berwald’s neck, his light hands already moving to undress him; ignoring Berwald’s half-hearted excuse that he has responsibilities; a hated word, the one that is taking him away from him. Yet his own touch still has the ability to silence any further delays.

“They can afford to wait.“

When his flesh is bared, Tino’s skillful kisses gracing his skin, Berwald can’t help but agree.

beetoast  asked:

Junker Queen relationship hcs?

lmao i should’ve known xp I really hope I get her personality right :p

  • She’d clearly be the ‘dominant’ one in the relationship (They explained this in HIMYM once but I forgot)
  • Now, I don’t think she’d be the best girlfriend out there
  • She doesn’t take dating seriously so it’d be more of an ‘open relationship’
  • Still, you’d always be her significant other.
  • Kisses with her are rough - pretty much everything is.
  • She loves making you go crazy about her, as if you actually adore her like she’s a goddess
  • However, she isn’t abusive or anything.
  • She does let you know she loves you from time to time.

germansam  asked:

I also just caught up all at once on the Gumdrops and all your sims are adorable. Have you picked a heir already? Is it CC? Let it be CC!

YAY! I’m glad you’re enjoying the story! :)

I do have an heir picked out! And umm… well… *mumbles* it’s not CC…

Originally posted by kasugano

I know - it’s breaking my heart too! I love CC! She’s my favorite. But I’ve known what I wanted to do for Gen 2 since before CC was born and she doesn’t work for it. T_T

But don’t worry! I want to do something extra with CC, so we will be following her around at some point. Right now I’m thinking of doing a 2 part side story with her, but I might look at some challenges too…

Remembering You - Part 1

Pairings: Lucifer x You

Word Count: 2,886

Warnings: None yet :)

Author’s Note: Sorry this was a little later than I promised, but I hope you all like it! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!


Originally posted by with-eyes-turned-skywards

You had known the Winchesters for years. Hell, you had all but grown up with Dean and even regarded Sam as a pseudo-younger brother. Bobby had raised you after both your parents had been killed on a hunt and though he tried his best to keep you from the life, you had become a Hunter all the same. You could see the blame in his eyes every time you came home bloody or broken, but you assured him that this was what you wanted. You could never imagine yourself doing anything else. You loved the life.

A few years after Bobby died, the Winchesters had invited you to stay at the bunker with them and you took them up on it. For the most part, you now hunted with them instead of alone, but sometimes you went off by yourself. And it was on one of these solo escapades that Lucifer escaped his Cage for the second time, hitching a ride in Castiel, your resident angel. Of course you had no idea that he wasn’t Cas. Lucifer was just using him as a vessel. So when you thought you were asking Cas for help with researching a new case, it was really Lucifer.

You hadn’t suspected a thing and had actually been getting along with “Cas” better than you ever had before. You had never had problems with the angel, but he could be a stick in the mud and you actually possessed a sense of humor, so you had never really vibed. That afternoon, to your pleasant surprise, you had been laughing and joking with him for a few hours before Sam and Dean arrived at the bunker and informed you of who he really was. He poofed away and you hadn’t seen him since.

After the Darkness and God had left, you were spending a day being lazy for once. You had ordered pizza and bought a few racks of beer, and the brothers and you were just hanging out. It was at that moment that Lucifer reappeared in a new blond vessel, though you didn’t know what color his hair was at first because he was drenched in blood. He locked eyes with you, tried to speak, and collapsed on the floor.

There had been a huge argument after that, especially when Lucifer didn’t wake up right away. The brothers explained who the man covered in blood was, because of course you didn’t know yet (you hadn’t been involved in that whole Apocalypse business a few years ago when they had first let the archangel free) and then debated killing him. You quickly put an end to that talk. After all, he was defenseless right now. It just wouldn’t be right. The boys had argued with you, but you put your foot down. And so they made you his babysitter as revenge.

That was three weeks ago and Lucifer still had not woken up. He was on a bed in the middle of the room, surrounded by holy oil. The plan was to light the ring once he woke up, but you were starting to wonder if that was ever going to happen.

Dean and Sam had helped you move Lucifer to the bed where he was now, but that was all they did. You had been responsible for cleaning the blood off him, which you did, and bandaging his many wounds. You couldn’t tell what kind of knife caused them, but you did think it was weird that his wounds hadn’t healed themselves. You thought that was one of the many perks of being an angel. The brothers weren’t any help. They just shrugged and went on their way. Cas didn’t know either.

Cas was the only one who was willing to help you. You stayed in Lucifer’s room most of the time, but you needed to eat and sleep, so Cas would stay with him while you did that. Of course, the brothers and Cas were all away when Lucifer woke up.

You had fallen asleep in the chair by his bed, but outside the ring of oil, your book open to the page you had been reading on your chest. Something woke you suddenly and you looked around the room blearily until you realized who was looking back at you. You jolted into full consciousness and fumbled for the lighter, but it was gone. No, there it was! On the floor! You grabbed it and shakily rose to your feet. Lucifer was just looking at you in confusion. He was still reclined on the bed, but his eyes tracked you as you moved.

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” You warned. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, which in turn confused you.

“What…happened?” He asked, his voice raspy from disuse.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” You answered. He looked around him suddenly before looking back at you.

“Where am I?”

“The bunker,” You said carefully. “You came here by yourself.”

“Oh.” He appeared to mull it over for a second. “And what was I doing before that?”

“What? How the hell should I know?”

The confused look was back. “Aren’t we friends?”

“No.”

“Oh, um, okay. Sorry.”

He was acting really weird and you were suspicious. What was the game here? He could have left a long time ago but he didn’t. He could have left before you even knew he was awake, but he hadn’t. What was going on?

“Um, could I ask you one more thing?” He asked hesitantly, wringing his blanket between his hands.

“What?” You said warily.

He looked apologetic. “Uh, do you, uh, know my name?”

You gaped at him, which seemed to make him even more nervous. But you couldn’t help it. You were trying to figure out how to respond. Was he trying to deceive you for some reason? Or was he actually telling the truth? And how could you be sure?

“You don’t remember anything?”

“No,” He answered, then reconsidered. “Well, I do remember one thing.”

“What?”

“You.” He said earnestly. “For some reason, the only memory I have is of us in some sort of library. We seemed to be having a good time. That’s why I thought we were friends.”

You cocked your head, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Why wouldn’t Lucifer remember anything about himself but remember that couple hour chunk of time with you? It just didn’t make sense.

“Uhhhh, excuse me a sec.”

You fished in your pocket and pulled out your cell phone. You gave Lucifer a big, and very fake, smile as you punched in a number you knew by heart.

“What happened?” Dean answered, cutting straight to the chase as always.

“Well…he woke up.”

“And? Did you light the holy oil?”

“Uh…no.”

“Why the hell not?” He said angrily.

“There’s a complication.”

“Oh god, please don’t tell me he escaped.”

“Um, no. That’s not it. He doesn’t remember anything.”

“About what happened?”

“No, about anything. Dean, he doesn’t know who he is.” You turned to see Lucifer poking at a deep, half-healed wound on his arm. “Hey, knock it off!” He stopped with a sheepish look.

“I call bullcrap.” Dean growled. “Don’t believe him.”

A flutter of wings sounded and suddenly Cas appeared in the room. Lucifer jumped and almost fell out of bed as the angel approached him rapidly and placed two fingers on the archangel’s forehead. Cas frowned.

“He’s not faking it.” He said in his low voice.

Lucifer looked around wide-eyed. “Where did you come from? And why would I be faking it? And how would you know even if I was?”

Cas ignored him and just looked at you.

“Cas says he isn’t faking.” You repeated into the phone.

Dean cursed. “Alright, we’ll finish up here and get back as soon as we can. Probably will be a few days though.”

“What am I supposed to do with him?”

“I don’t know, but Y/N, please be careful, alright?”

“Sure, sure.” You said absently, hanging up. You looked at the angels, who were both looking back at you expectantly. “So, what now?”

 **

Lucifer and Cas sat at the table while you started the oven to cook some food. You were still in a daze from this strange turn of events. Lucifer hadn’t been wearing much while he had been bedridden, so you had had to scrounge around in Dean’s room to find him some clothes. Dean would be angry when he found out but he deserved it for sticking you with babysitter duty. Luckily Cas had decided he would stay to help you, just in case Lucifer was still somehow faking it. Not that a regular angel would be much help against an archangel, but you appreciated the gesture. You were lost in your thoughts so deeply that it took you a moment to realize that Lucifer was speaking.

“So, who am I then? At least tell me my name.” Though Cas was sitting right next to him, he was looking at you to respond.

You took a deep breath. “Lucifer.”

“Lucifer? As in the Devil?”

You cocked your head and looked at Cas. “How does he know that?”

“He has general knowledge. It must be from his vessel. But the part of him that remembers his angel life has been hidden.”

“Angel? Whoa, whoa, guys, what are you saying here? Am I in some kind of institution?” Lucifer said, half-jokingly.

“So he’s his vessel, essentially?”

Cas shook his head. “The human part is dead. He is still Lucifer. His personality, sense of humor, and quirks will all be the same. He just doesn’t have his memories.”

Lucifer’s eyes slid over to you. “Okay, I’m starting to get freaked out here. Can someone fill me in?”

You sighed. “You are Lucifer. The Devil. Satan. All that good stuff. About a month ago, you just appeared in our living room covered in blood and collapsed on the floor. You’ve been out ever since. We have no idea what happened to you.”

“So if we aren’t friends, why did you keep me safe?”

“Dean and Sam want to send you back into the Cage.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows drew together. “Dean is that guy you were talking to on the phone, right? Who’s Sam? And they want to put me in a cage?”

“Not a cage, the Cage. Your Cage.” You could tell you were confusing him further, so you stopped and started over. “Dean and Sam Winchester live here in the bunker as well. They’re Hunters, just like me.”

“Hunters? Like, deer?”

“No,” You were starting to get frustrated, so you sat down next to Lucifer and started at the beginning. You explained everything, from how you met the Winchesters to Bobby, to the apocalypse, and then to the Amara business. By the time you were finished, the chicken that you had put into the oven had fully cooked and so you got up to get it.

“Wow,” Lucifer said, leaning back in his chair. “Just…wow.”

“So you can understand why we’re a little concerned that you’re faking, right?” You asked as you prepared two plates of food. Cas never ate.

“Yeah.” He answered. “I can. But I’m really not faking this.”

You grabbed some silverware and went back to the table, placing a plate in front of Lucifer. Then you sat down yourself.

“That remains to be seen.” You said, cutting into your chicken. You completely missed the hurt look that crossed his face. “Now eat.”

Once the food had been put away and everything had been cleaned, you and Cas decided to give Lucifer his own room in the bunker. The room he had been staying in just wouldn’t do anymore, especially since he had very human needs these days, like showering and using the bathroom. The two of you decided to put him in the room right next to yours in case anything happened, and Cas would stand guard outside the door at night.

You led Lucifer to the room and let him in. It was pretty basic. A queen sized bed against the far wall with a nightstand and a small lamp. There was a bathroom to the left, and a dresser and arm chair to the right. Lucifer looked around apprehensively.

“It’s kind of…small.”

“Well, I’m sorry that we don’t have any suites available, Your Majesty.” You retorted sarcastically.

His eyebrows drew together. “That’s not what I meant. It just makes me feel confined.”

You were so tired. “Well it’s all we got.”

He took a few steps inside and looked around. Then he turned and sat on the bed, testing it out. He looked back up at you and you were suddenly reminded of a lost puppy. If Lucifer was not faking, and that was a big if, then he was lost and alone right now and the way you were acting towards him was only making it worse. It could be said that he deserved this treatment, but you just didn’t feel right about it. He seemed so innocent. You went and sat beside him on the bed, much to Cas’ chagrin.

“Look, we’re going to figure this out, okay?” You said to him, patting him on the arm. “You’ll be back to being the big bad Devil in no time.”

He sighed and nodded, and you squeezed his arm comfortingly. “I’ll come back to get you for breakfast.”

“What are you going to do in the meantime?” He asked, glancing first at where your hand was touching him and then at your face.

You shrugged. “Probably just read until I fall asleep. Why?”

“Could you maybe read in here?” He asked hesitantly. “Just until I fall asleep?”

“Uhhhh…why?”

“I just don’t really want to be alone.” He said, his blue eyes somehow both nervous and sad. He didn’t seem embarrassed at not being able to be alone. He was truly…innocent.

You glanced at Cas, who shook his head slightly.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I can do that.” You said, watching as Cas clenched his jaw. “Just let me go get you some pajamas and get ready for bed, and I’ll come back.”

You walked out of his room and Cas followed you down the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

“What are you doing?” The angel demanded in his gravelly voice.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” You shot back testily, not bothering to turn around.

“I heard you just fine. My question is why?”

“Why what?”

Cas grabbed your arm, firmly but gently, and whirled you around until you were chest to chest with him. “Why are you being kind to him?”

You took a step back and crossed your arms. “Is there something wrong with what I’m doing?”

“Y/N, you can’t underestimate him. He could still be faking.”

“I don’t think he is.”

Cas took a step forward. He was inches from your face. “Do not forget that I was his vessel for a time. I know what he is capable of.”

“Cas, I would never forget that.” You said quietly. His features softened. “And I know what he’s capable of too. But you said it yourself that he wasn’t faking.”

“Not in a way that I could detect.” He said defensively.

“What would his endgame be? He could have killed me and been away before I had even woken up.”

“I’m not so sure he would have killed you. He seemed quite fond of you that time in the library.” He looked almost…jealous? No, that couldn’t be right.

“Well, he could have zapped away before I woke up then.” You said automatically, before fully registering what the angel had said. “Wait, what? Fond of me? Lucifer?”

Cas shifted uncomfortably. “Yes. He enjoyed his time with you. I could feel it. He told me it had something to do with how you treated him. You actually enjoyed his company and no one else has for a long time.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s because I thought he was you.” You said incredulously.

“He knew that. But he still liked you. Maybe that has something to do with why he showed up here.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t change how I’m going to act towards him.”

“I would think that you would treat him like the insane archangel he is.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen him? He looks so lost. I’m not going to make him feel worse. He can’t even remember what he’s done wrong.”

“Y/N, you’re being unreasonable.”

You turned away from him and opened your door. “Maybe so, but I don’t care.”

You heard a flutter of wings and knew that he was gone. A slight moment of panic hit you when you realized that you were alone with the Devil, but it was over quickly. You got ready for bed and then stole into Dean’s room to grab Lucifer some pajamas. Cas still hadn’t returned when you knocked on Lucifer’s door and then entered. He was nervously pacing the area in front of the bed when you came back, stopping when he realized you were back.

“Everything alright?” You asked him.

He nodded. “I just didn’t know if you were coming back.”

“I said I was coming back, didn’t I?” He nodded. “Well then, I’m coming back. Now, go put these on.”

anonymous asked:

Congratulations on being out to your parents :) how did you do it, if you don't mind me asking?

Thanks :v

Well, it’s sort of a two-part question. I’m both trans and bi; they’ve known about the bi-thing for over a year -> I told my mom, over text, sorta in-between another important conversation, after a setup revealed itself (the true coward’s way out, but it was done nonetheless). She actually thought (hoped, probably) that I was joking about my gf, but she was, like.. Really awkward and quiet (very ooc) about it every time I mentioned my gf’s name (gf and I had been friends for two years before we started dating). I’m not from a family that really … talks. Or has open emotions. So this is all, uh. Yeah.

So, this is the trans-thing. And I mean, my therapist put the situation pretty neatly through the question “wait that doesn’t make any sense, your parents don’t know that you’re trans? are they blind?”.
I haven’t exactly been stealth - we just haven’t… talked.
…But I knew that I needed to get this overwith. I’m currently going to the gender clinic for consultations once a month and I’m hoping to get on T within the next half year.

This morning I texted my mom, asking if they were home today. They were. Did I want to stop by? Sure, cause I needed to talk about something. Fine.
So, basically I chilled with my sister until after lunch, at which point my mom asked what I wanted to talk about. I couldn’t be bothered anymore, and I just told her the truth.
I’ve been going to a place about the thing. She told me that she’d checked out the gender place’s website before I showed up, cause she isn’t “entirely stupid”, and I’ve been “going for that androgynous look for years” (true, I’ve mainly been shopping in the men’s section since I was around 14). She’s just glad that I didn’t reveal having cancer or smth. She had some pretty understandable questions about, like, “so you want to grow a beard?” (not rn) “what about surgery?” (might not be necessary, but we’ll see) blah blah.
Nothing too dramatic, which I didn’t expect either, it’s just… We don’t generally talk.

Hinami Headcanon
  1. We know for a fact that Hope’s Peak accepts some fairly supernatural “talents,” such as “luckk” and “clairvoyancy”
  2. We also know that The Artist Formerly Known As Hinata is both Hajime AND Izuzu Kamukura at the end of DR3.
  3. Izuru Kamukura, of course, has all the talents (or at least all the ones Hope’s Peak has identified? It’s not clear).

Obviously, Hajime’s first order of business is going to be waking up his friends once he’s out of the Neo World program. In fact, Danganronpa 2.5 seems to indicate that he finished that up and headed straight for the Future Foundation’s HQ for the rescue in “Hope Side.”

But once Kamu-nata wraps that up, I’m pretty sure I know his next order of business.

Headcanon: The next step is logically for him to leverage everything: His Ultimate Luck, his Ultimate Spirit Speaker, his Ultimate Biologist, his Ultimate Forensic Pathologist or whatever else he’s got — intro resurrecting Chiaki Nanami. With his Ultimate Luck, he will probably even succeed. (Hijinks involving zombies and the like may ensue along the way.) This probably all ends with her getting a new robotic body though; even Kamakura has limits.

Side-Headcanon: Alternatively, maybe Chiaki Nanami never died ala  @theapocryphalone‘s Extra Life, but Hajime is instead convinced to leverage this same load of talents to speak with/potentially resurrect the dead members of the 78th Class instead? Or - uh-oh - maybe Fuyuhiko gets on his case about resurrecting Dearly Departed/Renowned Asshole Natsumi Kuzuryuu! OH BOY.

anonymous asked:

(For the writing meme) "Without you, I'm someone else.'

Thank you for the prompt!

“Without you, I’m someone else.”
Eggsy is breathing heavily, his eyes rimmed red, and every word hits Harry like a bullet to his chest, cutting through his skin, his flesh, his soul. Maybe he should always have known it would come to this, that in the end, they wouldn’t work out like he always hoped they would; maybe it shouldn’t have taken a fight and Eggsy spelling it out for him to realise.
“And you think that would be a good thing, don’t you?”, he forces out, each syllable acid on his lips and tongue. He takes a deep breath and steels himself, waits for Eggsy to deliver the last blow, but it never comes.
“No”, Eggsy says instead, takes half a step forward, and suddenly, his voice has lost its cutting edge, has become soft, pleading, “I think I never want to find out who I’d be without you.”

Leave me the first sentence of a fic, and I’ll write you the next five!

Some highlights from today’s session~

  • Last session: “hey this substance is really dangerous and causes gruesome mutations so we should stay away from it maybe”
    This session: “let’s throw random stuff in the mutation water and see what happens!”
  • Players discovered that I’d been saying “Waters of Nun” not “Waters of Noon.” Much confusion is cleared up (i hadn’t even known they were confused or I would’ve mentioned gasdkjkl)
  • Barbarian NPC finally decides to rage. Almost decapitates an enemy in one blow. Party fighter thinks the NPC is rad as heck
  • The continuing adventures of digging in rubble piles hoping to find Stuff. I keep rewarding this behavior for some reason
The Gist of Your Letter

Prompt: Jim being suspicious about John and Paul’s friendship. For @swaying-daisies


“If I were you, son, I wouldn’t get involved in all this.”

That’s what he told that journo who showed up to deliver John’s letter. Typical Lennon. Getting some poor kid to do his dirty work. Jim had known what sort he was from the get-go. He’d warned his son, too. But Paul had a blind-spot the size of Australia where Lennon was involved.

When it all started out Jim thought that was just Paul’s way of rebelling. Of working his way through his grief after Mary passed.  Paul spent all his time practicing guitar, with that steadfast, obsessive, pig-headedness he’d gotten from Mary’s side of the family. He looked different too. He’d lost weight, wore those tight trousers they called “drainies”, he styled his hair with grease, full on the top, slicked back on the sides.

“You mind your school work, son. You study hard and do something worth-while with your life.”

Paul was a good boy, he had no doubt he’d see reason. And then he came round, that John Lennon. And it all made sense.  

He was the son of one Alf Lennon and Julia Stanley. The red-headed Stanley girl was a beauty for sure, but more trouble than she was worth. She might have married that Lennon bloke but she lived with some other man and had two children with him. It wasn’t just John’s clothing, the smoking or dubious manners that made Jim uneasy, it was the way he would look at Paul. He looked at Paul like he was starving.  Jim wasn’t quite sure how to address the matter. To address it would mean looking it in the eye. Admitting to himself that there was nothing normal about the way Paul would fidget and blush whenever he mentioned John.

Jim put his foot down: John wasn’t to set foot in the house. He may as well have given him the key to the front door. Paul grew crafty, devising ways to spend time with Lennon.  He could now lie without batting an eyelash, he cut class whenever he could manage and spent it god-knows-where. He let John in through the bathroom window and into his bedroom, where they would whisper long into the night. Early in the morning Jim would watch the Lennon kid sprinting back towards Menlove Avenue with his tousled hair and rumpled clothes.

It was for the music. Paul had gotten it into his head they were going to be songwriters. Lennon-McCartney. Another Lennon-McCartney original. That’s all it was. All it was? It was bad enough. Paul’s grades suffered. Jim went through his school bag and found a handful of notes he couldn’t decipher in John’s sloppy hand, complete with sketches of naked women with cartoonish bosoms. Paul sketched, too, in his notebooks. He practiced writing his signature, he drew hearts and curlicues and he wrote over and over. Over and over he wrote: John Lennon, John Lennon, John Lennon, John Lennon.

And then John’s mother died. And for one horrible moment Jim dared to hope it was over. God forgive him. He waited with bated breath while John stayed away and Paul became despondent. He hoped that Paul would realise what sort of boy his friend was, what sort of man. Weak, fearful, unnatural. The kind to lead a boy astray, a boy like his Paul, so full of promise and ambition. John found his way back to Paul, like one of those homing birds. And their bond was stronger than ever. Because now they had this loss in common. This terrible loss.

When Paul begged him to let him go to Germany what could he say? No? And break his boy’s heart? He watched them make their plans through a crack in the door to Paul’s tiny bedroom; saw their animated, joyful faces. He saw how Paul looked at this man. Saw Paul’s hand on John’s arm, the way his fingers curled against John’s skin possessively. Jim felt his mind close off in fear.

Paul wrote home when he could. Wrote of their performances, what they ate, what it looked like there. He wrote that he would rather be home. Jim wondered what had happened in Hamburg to make Paul sound so forlorn. That art school friend of John’s: Stuart Sutcliffe, with his bad bass playing? They left Stuart in Hamburg; he’d lost his heart to a German girl. When Jim saw Paul’s self-satisfied smile he knew he’d been right.

Then like a dream, like a dream come true, they made it big. And they were everywhere. The Beatles. The Beatles! And Lennon-McCartney. It was just as Paul had always said it would be. John got married and had a kid and Jim allowed himself to breathe easy again. Except he couldn’t because everywhere he looked there they were: In the papers, on the telly. Gazing at each other while millions looked on. It was that programme, The Music of Lennon-McCartney that did it. Jim had to switch it off he couldn’t watch anymore. Paul called the next day and asked if he’d seen it, wasn’t it marvellous? All Jim could think was, yes, he’d seen it. And he now understood what it was he was looking at: they were in love. That’s what this was. He didn’t even feel angry, he just felt sad. He felt sad for his boy. He even felt sad for Lennon. Jim knew when it ended, as it inevitably had to, Paul would be just fine but John, John would die.

Jim misjudged him. He didn’t die. What John did was burn down the world. He married that Japanese bit, that so-called artist and discarded his English wife and child. But even worse, he broke Paul’s heart.

“It’s a drag.” That’s what Paul said when he asked him about it.

And then he told him all about his solo projects and his new family and how excited he was to start his future. Jim recognised the look on his face, that puffy, glassy- eyed look. When he grew a beard Jim realised what it was he was looking at:  Paul was in mourning.

He was his father. If some girl hurt him what would he tell him? “You’ll get over it, son. Plenty other fish in the sea.  Best way to get over one woman is to climb on top of another one.”

What could he possibly say about this? How could anything he said be enough?

Paul rebuilt himself slowly but surely. He moved on. But Jim saw that melancholy in him. The melancholy he himself had been unable to shake since Mary died. Paul sounded the same, eventually he looked like himself again. But there was something missing. He never smiled the way he’d smiled with John Lennon.

Jim thought about tearing the letter up, tossing it into the furnace. He thought about keeping it from Paul the way he’d once kept John’s postcards from the boy. But in the end he walked into the kitchen and handed the letter to Paul.  When Paul saw the writing on the envelope, his whole body seemed to react. On his face was an expression of such fierce hope that it took Jim’s breath away. Paul tore the letter open with his fingernails and read it standing up, holding the paper almost to his nose as if he were trying to catch John’s scent on it. When he was done he folded it carefully, closed his eyes and breathed out.

“He wants to make peace,” Paul said. He sounded relieved.

It was the hope in Paul’s face that did him in. That light in his eyes, that look of anticipation bordering on lunacy. Jim put a hand on Paul’s arm gently.

“Go easy, son,” he said.

Jim knew there was no point trying to warn him, he hadn’t listened the first time.

The Poems of Cyril Hurk

Ah, my cravat is silk and scarlet:
Look how I slink to the elevator
In the Plaza Hotel. I bow to the
Bearded chap, and the lady with
The pearlish smile. They intimately
Talk of tea, which awaits them, as we
Creak towards Floor Three. I am
Here to exchange the documents.
They prove the men are fossilised
And Darwin was almost right about
Worms and billiards. We are leaving,
We fellows of the previous century.
We bow to the hope of a green world
And womanly divinity, finally known.
I lost my comb and had hurry home.