💞aries💞: always laughing and joking with you. playful smacks on the arm and always wants to wrestle, but whines if she gets hurt even though she started it. always looks at you in this special way that makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. jaw kisses and butt touching.
💞taurus💞: literally invites you over to nap with her. wants to do the simple things with you, like taking baths together and falling asleep in the same bed. buys you lots of gifts and brings you food home anytime she goes somewhere.
💞gemini💞: always wants to go somewhere amazing. she wants to go places and see things with you. has her arm around your waist all the time and has this airy laughter that you could never forget.
💞cancer💞: very domestic. she wants to cook for you and do your laundry and wants you to live with her a month after you start dating. the warmest big spoon and always kisses your forehead. she loves to watch movies with you and just spend time together.
💞leo💞: you two can have fun together anywhere. she wants to go to walmart in the middle of the night just to run around and laugh and hold your hand. loves kisses and pda, she’s always showing you off because she’s proud of you. lots of dates and cheap thrills.
💞virgo💞: the girlfriend that’s like your best friend. she always wants to hang out and watch tv, and she’s always got something to talk about. probably organizes your room for you just because it’s driving her nuts and hardly mentions it even happened. loves to sit in your lap and talk about the world.
💞libra💞: sappy romantic. she loves traditional dinner dates and when you buy her roses. she celebrates valentine’s day like it’s fucking christmas and she loves to buy you gifts. always kissing your knuckles and telling you she loves you.
💞scorpio💞: she loves to spend time with you more than anything. tons of just hanging out at your house and watching netflix and talking about your feelings. she loves to cuddle and she’s always dtf. very playful and loves to mess with you.
💞sagittarius💞: the type of girlfriend that always wants to go sightseeing and hiking. always dragging you along by your hand because she moves so fast. she always has something to talk about and loves to kiss your cheeks.
💞capricorn💞: she’s always in the mood to cuddle. she’ll give you long hugs or random passionate kisses to tell you she loves you. always telling you things like “be careful” and “drive safe” and brushing your hair out of your face. always telling you about her big ideas and plans.
💞aquarius💞: your best friend above all else, she wants to do everything with you. always surprising you with gifts and dates and loves to jump into your arms. the type of girlfriend who’s happy just to have you around and doesn’t care what you’re doing.
💞pisces💞: super sweet and always wants your attention. she’s always touching you somehow and telling you about the random stuff she’s thinking about. loves to hold your hand and nuzzle you, and hates sleeping without you.
Sora is something else when he’s behind the wheel of a car because he is either at one end of the emotional extreme or the other.
He is the kind of driver who makes sure to thank other drivers on the road for their consideration. If someone lets him switch lanes and get in front of them, he sticks his hand up and waves to them. He also mutters, “Thank you,” even though there’s absolutely no way for the other driver to hear or even see his lips forming the words aw hon
He is also the kind of driver who shows off a very… colorful… vocabulary when he’s dealing with bad drivers. He never drives aggressively– especially not behind the wheel of someone else’s car! But he swears up a storm that even makes Gladio a little uncomfortable. (Don’t tell them to put a rusty tire iron there, Sora…)
While we’re on the subject of Sora in the car, he sits between Noct and Gladio in the backseat
With Sora in the party, Ignis now has TWO stubborn and sleepy boys to drag out of bed each morning
Sora’s Keyblade ex Machina becomes a Thing
No more having to worry about accidentally locking the keys in the car because there’s a boy in the party with the universe’s biggest and dumbest-looking master key
Noctis politely accepting the dungeon key from Ezma even though there is absolutely no need for it with Sora “Yes-by-it-works-on-any-lock-I-MEAN-it-works-on-any-lock.”
Yes this results in the boys facing off against a monster they are nowhere near equipped to handle
Yes Gladio has to drag Sora’s and Prompto’s unconscious bodies all the way back up to the dungeon’s entrance
Yes they go back for revenge once they’ve collectively toughened up
Imagine Sora getting captured by Niffs only to create increasing frustration in their ranks because they literally cannot keep this kid locked in a room
Sora looks forward to getting to meet Lunafreya! :D
Noctis gets frustrated that he can’t talk to Luna more often. Sora suggests he write her a message, stick it in a bottle, and cast it out to sea.
He’s only half joking
Sora getting! So excited! When Noct assures him that of course he can come to the wedding! Sora’s never been to a wedding before! :D :D :D
As their friendship grows stronger, Noct decides to make Sora one of his groomsmen!!!!!
Imagine the bachelor party omfg
Real talk: SORA WOULD CRY AT A WEDDING. HE LOVES TO SEE PEOPLE HAPPY AND IN LOVE!!!!!
The chocobros fearing Sora’s power more than ever when they realize that his hair naturally stands up like that. No hair gel necessary. His hair is just Too Powerful
Prompto is so jealous
Sora sometimes gets really quiet when they’re on the beach at Galdin Quay or Cape Caeum. He sort of spaces out. Just stares out at the horizon with the waves lapping up around his ankles.
hey guys I was thinking about organizing something like a “langblr book exchange” where you send used language books to a random user and get another language book you want from another user. I haven’t quite figured out every detail yet but I was just wondering if you guys would think this is a good idea and if enough people would even be willing to participate and let go of their precious old books.
It’s never late for this meet the artist thing! I did my best to keep my handwriting readable and to not have the dislike list too long and of course Photoshop crashed during this because everything involving me usually malfunctions somehow. What can I say, it’s good to know what to expect from life.
In some ways, I think she’s been the least mature of the Liars. Maybe because she wasn’t present. She ran away from her problems for a while and now she’s back and she has to face things. I think the pregnancy is a way to bring them together, but I think in a really organic way. A.D. often does things that you think are terrible to the girls, but often it backfires and it brings the girls closer together. So this is a perfect example of one of those horrible A.D. things that ultimately will bring the girls closer instead of dividing them.
It wasn’t quite like seeing things through her eyes, as though he was her, but like a silent bystander, a faithful shadow. For the past six months he had seen her in his dreams, always the same face.
Jamie had read somewhere that the strangers in your dreams were people you had seen at some point in your life. He wondered if he passed by her every day and had just never noticed.
But truth was, he would have noticed her.
In the weird, dreamlike state, he watched her make a cup of tea, her hand shaking ever so slightly as she poured sugar in and stirred. He could almost hear the clinking of crockery against the spoon. She closed her eyes as she sipped and the warm drink seemed to steady her.
She was afraid.
She walked out of the kitchen, into a small den, where she turned on the TV to BBC News. Jamie still stood next to her, unable to sit or go anywhere else in the house. A dream where he knew he was dreaming, but powerless to steer. He looked at the screen for a few minutes, and recognized the news presenter.
They were in London.
Before he could react, he heard a slamming door down a corridor and a man hurry into the den, straightening his tie.
“Is there any for me?” The man waited next to the woman, next to Jamie, who shrugged and waved her own cup towards the kitchen.
With a huff and a roll of his eyes, the man disappeared only to make his presence felt by the banging of cupboard doors and rattling cutlery.
The woman closed her eyes, screwing them tightly as though wishing the man away.
Jamie could hear mutterings, something about keeping things organized, taking the time, going back to work… Apparently, it made the woman angry, for she set her cup down (narrowly avoiding smashing it), picked up a purse hanging on a coatrack, and grabbing a set of keys from a bowl by the front door.
As soon as the door shut behind her, Jamie woke up, in his own bed in Glasgow. Dim morning light suffused his bedroom, as he lay and pondered over his dream. He had never seen the man before, only her – shopping for groceries, going for walks in a park, in her apartment. But only in this dream had he noticed where she lived, and the ring on her finger.
He watched the light creep steadily across the duvet, until the alarm on his phone beeped time to get up. He reached over to turn it off quickly, but she woke up anyway.
His girlfriend Laoghaire stretched an arm across his chest, holding him with a murmured good morning.
So. What was the damage?“
“Various bumps and bruises,” Obi-Wan replied evasively. “A bit of scorching. A cut here and there.”
Anakin sat back, arms folded, one eyebrow skeptically raised. “And?”
“And really, there is no need to make a fuss,” said Obi-Wan, shifting uncomfortably. “I hardly think I look at death’s door. Do you?”
“Not now you don’t,” Anakin agreed. “But then, everyone knows Master Vokara Che is a genius. So—what else?”
It was almost comical to see the vaunted Master Kenobi wriggling like a tiska-worm on a hook. “Concussion,” he mumbled. “Broken hand. Broken leg. Broken shoulder. Cracked pelvis. Four broken ribs and a punctured lung. One or two internal organs jostled a bit.
Wild Space (Star Wars: The Clone Wars)
WHAT THE FUCK OBI-WAN. YOU COULD HAVE DIED.
But I totally have dakt37 fanart in my head of Obi-Wan being casually about his LIFE THREATENING injuries of this, this, this, and this.
In which, ex-secret agent Phil Coulson was hired to protect Althea Rice, a famous movie star from a threat against her life..
turned out the infamous Cavalry Melinda May who disappeared in his organization way before he entered and movie star Althea Rice are one. Those who knew of her already left the organization and removed all her data. It was a clean slate. It was stories that were left upon her disappearance. Why she chose public and why she left remained a mystery.. it wasn’t until Phil stumbled on something about his former
organization and with the help of Skye, he learned the truth of her disappearance and why he was chosen to “protect” a legend..
It got a little more difficult when they end up sleeping together…
you never believed them, what they said about Neocash.
“it’s blood money, anyone who offers it can’t be trusted.”
“you can buy anything with it, anything.”
before now, it was just rumors - something you’d joke about with your similarly dark humored Neofriends.
but now, suddenly all that joking feels in poor taste.
in front of you is a stunning jacket - the likes of which you’ve never seen before.
it’s glimmering, light dancing off every seam, with immaculate craftship.
you can just imagine yourself in it - drawing eyes and compliments alike - you feel as if this jacket will instantaneously improve your life if you own it.
you stare at it long enough to draw the attention of the of the shopkeeper.
an immaculately dressed green scorchio steps out onto the stoop of the small shop, smiling widely.
“you like that one? just got it in this morning!” he calls to you
you tear yourself from the jacket, and turn to him
“yeah, it’s incredible, i haven’t seen anything like it before! how much is it?”
his smile grows wider, “150 neocash!”
you feel somewhat disappointed, you have no neocash, and have no idea how to go about getting some.
“ah, i see.” you mumble, eyes cast downward. turn to walk away, dejected.
suddenly he’s before you - arms outstretched - smile as wide as ever.
“why don’t you try it on! c’mon inside!”
he places two hands firmly on your shoulders. his touch feels cold. a singular shiver races down the length of your body.
just a moment ago he was on the stoop, and now he’s an inch away from your face, this shouldn’t be possible.
you chalk it up to just blanking out. it happens all the time.
“ah, no it’s alright i-”
before you know it you are inside the shop. its enormous on the inside, stocked floor to ceiling with beautiful garments; dresses, pants, shirts, even costume wings and wigs overflow from drawers and shelves.
the jacket is on you, the shopkeeper is behind you, you catch subtle glances of him in the three-sided mirror, but never a solid sight.
“wow i,” you pause “i love it.”
“like i said before, 150 NC and it’s all yours” his voice surrounds you.
“i don’t have any neocash” you say quietly.
“that’s not a problem, you can sign up today and some will be credited to your account!”
you don’t have an account, you think. you blink and suddenly you’re before a desk. you look around, eyes landing on a clock. it’s been three hours, but it only feels like it’s been a few moments.
an already signed document is before you, the scorchio is nowhere to be seen. your name is written out, it’s obviously your penmanship, but it looks panicked, rushed.
you blink again. you’re sitting in a heavily muraled room on a clean, silver table. you glance around the room, taking in the full breadth of the painting - it’s trees and sky.
you grip your side, a dull throbbing pain radiates from your lower back. you gently feel around the area and you feel a thin long incision peppered with stitches. it only now occurs to you that you’re missing your shirt.
the world suddenly feels hazy, and you stand up. bumping into the medical table that sat just outside of your vision. on it is your shirt, and the jacket, both neatly folded. you pick them both up, a tiny slip of paper flutters out from between them.
you pick it up off the cold tiled floor.
it reads “BALANCE: 350 NC”
you put on your shirt and hold the jacket in your arms, stuffing the note in your pocket.
you look around for an exit, but your eyes fall on a thin window and long blinking digital clock.
“18TH DAY OF RELAXING, Y19.” if that clock was to be believed, it’s been two days.
suddenly a door you didn’t know existed creaks open and you reflexively wince.
now you’re outside the shop. jacket on. you’re starting to get panicked, your memory is proving to be no better than hole pocked cheese.
you walk home, exhausted and confused.
your roommate screams upon your entry, obviously shocked to see you. they’re shouting something, but the only word you manage to catch before going into your room is “missing”.
you toss the jacket onto your bed, suddenly it’s luster and beauty is diminished. it doesn’t look anything like the one you tried on at the shop.
desperate to justify the entire ordeal you just went through, you try every single thing you own on with it - trying to find just one thing that’d look good with that wretched jacket.
hours later, both your room and mental state are absolutely trashed. nothing looks good. as time passes the jacket seems to grow more grotesque. at one point you’re convinced it looks and feels like flesh. it seems to pulse and writhe in no way any garment should.
your roommate is pounding on the door.
they’re still shouting.
you have to get rid of this jacket. you have to go back.
you have to go back.
you push past your roommate and briskly walk back towards the shop. you catch a glance of a copy of the Neopian Times in the newspaper machine in the foyer of the appartment building you live in.
“28TH DAY OF RELAXING, Y19″
below the date is some alarmingly large and short headline, something about an market. something about clothing. something about organs. you ignore it. you don’t have time for this. you have to go back.
you practically run to the location of the store, the jacket tucked into your shoulder, you’re desperate to hide the smell of rot.
you round the corner and
it’s g o n e. the shop is gone.
this shouldn’t be possible, this is the exact spot it was in. it looks like it’s been abandoned for years.
the windows are boarded up, the door is locked, and no matter how hard you pull it’s not coming open.
the smell of the jacket can no longer be ignored. you leave it on the stoop, it looks horrible now, the seams are ripping and enormous holes have opened up on the panels.
you begin to walk away, ready to ignore this entire day, when suddenly, your eye is caught by something glimmering across the road.
a beautiful necklace catches the sun and your eye.
your mind screams as your body crosses the road and towards the jewelry.
a yellow aisha steps out, an enormous sunhat hiding her eyes, seemingly anticipating your arrival.
“like what you see? just got it in this morning. if you’re lookin’ to buy, it’s only 150.”
The American people have faced stagnant wages and rising inequality for decades. Many Americans voted for Donald Trump or decided not to vote at all because Democrats failed to communicate effectively with working people and turn out the vote - end of story. The fact is that shouldn’t have happened. The Democratic Party has long been the Party of working people, and needs to do a better job of making that case. No one knows this better than Keith Ellison, and we are proud to endorse him as the next Chair of the Democratic National Committee.
These are extremely challenging times. President Trump has put forward a nominee for Labor Secretary who openly disdains workers. Congressional Republicans are readying plans to roll back worker protections, repeal the Affordable Care Act and end Medicare as we know it. And in state capitals across the country, the assault on workers and unions has been fierce and swift. Now more than ever, working people need public servants who will stand up and fight for better jobs, higher wages, good benefits and a voice at work.
Keith knows how to win elections, and has a track record of defeating anti-worker forces wherever they are. When Keith was first elected to Congress in 2006, his district had the lowest turnout in Minnesota. Voters just didn’t feel engaged. They didn’t feel like they mattered. Keith decided to do something about it: he organized. He knocked on as many doors as possible. With labor at his side, he talked about the issues that mattered to people. It worked. Since Keith began his grassroots voter turnout campaign, his district is the highest performing in the state. And on top of all this, he’s been getting pro-worker candidates elected from the school board to the U.S. Senate, traveling to nearly 30 states just last cycle.
When nurses went on strike to keep their health insurance, Keith was there. When communications workers went on strike to protest pension cuts, Keith was there. When hotel workers went on strike for a decent wage, Keith was there.
He hasn’t done this alone. Keith has always organized alongside working people. He’s marched on our picket lines and offered support to our members. When nurses went on strike to keep their health insurance, Keith was there. When communications workers went on strike to protest outsourcing and pension cuts, Keith was there. When hotel workers went on strike to stand up for a decent wage, Keith was there.
Each and every time, he’s pounded the pavement, not for some sort of political benefit, but to stand in solidarity with those who want a better life for ourselves and our families.
Mukuro, Hibari and Byakuran acting Protective of their s/o
“Pardon the intrusion ma'am, but may I have a quick word with you?” Your teeth pinched your lower lip in an attempt to prevent a groan from leaving your mouth. You had been assigned to go undercover as a teacher at an all male privet school. Something about the headmaster organizing a heist to take the large shipment of guns’ that the Vongola was able to obtain before they were shipped out to local small-time gangs. "Yes, what can I do for you, Professor?“ You took a page from Murkuro and allowed charming, but hollow, tight-lipped smile stretch across your face. You stood from the chair behind the desk and turned to the Professor in the doorway. It took everything not to cringe at the smell that wafted off of the man. Had no one told him about deodorant, or better yet the magical thing called a shower? “Well, you see myself and a few of the other teachers have some concerns.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “You see,” you felt your face twitch as he stepped into the classroom and shut the door behind him, “multiple of us believe that some of your choices of attire might not be the best and most professional choice.” That made you pause in your internal complaints. Glancing down at your deep purple long sleeved bodycon style dress. A white and purple scarf was draped across your shoulders, your black heels sat innocently underneath the large oak desk. Pearl bracelet and earrings where your choice of jewelry this morning. “And pray tell is wrong with my choice of work clothes?” You glanced back up at the man only to cringe seeing that he had gotten closer to you while you were assessing your clothes of choice. "Well, you see,“ your eye twitched at the repeated phrase, "as you know we are an elite all-male privet school.” He cleared his throat out. “With the boys here are at a certain age where they start to notice the opposite….,” Your inner monolog drowned the rest of his yammering out. This guy had to be bullshitting you, there was no way he was going to pull this kind of crap on you. “and thusly we would like you to start wearing less revealing clothing so you do not distract the boys from their studies.” He was. "Kufufu…“ Before you could open your mouth to lay it into the sexist skin hating ass, a laugh flooded the large lecture room. "That was quite an unwise thing to say, for a man such as yourself.” You both watched as the familiar pineapple haired man melts from the shadows of a corner. You watched in exasperation as the color from the professor’s chubby face drained into a pastel white. Beady eyes rolled to the back, and his heavy-set body hit the tiled floors with a heavy thud. You shot a look at the illusionist. “That was unnecessary, I could have handled the pig myself.” Murkuro gave his signature laughter before taking your hand in his and placed a feathered kiss on the back of it. “I have no doubt that your sharp tongue and harsh words could have done just that. But I could not help myself, the thought of others staring at what is mine with such dirty thoughts fills me with rage that is beyond control.” “I am not some property to own you ass.” You grumbled and jerked your hand back to your side. Despite wanting to seem made you could feel your cheeks turning red. Twisting away from the man before you in hope he would not see your embarrassment, even though you know it was no use he saw everything it seemed. “Let’s just get out of here already.” You fled the room before he could say anything. "Kufufuf…. of corse.“ His long stride made it easy to catch up with you. You felt his long arm snake its way around your waist before pulling you close to his side.
A deep sigh passed through your slightly chapped lips. You were stuck at home today, as per Hibari’s demands. You had gotten a minor concussion the last mission that you had gone on, and despite being cleared for work, the ex-chairman had forced you to take the day off. The thing about being stuck at home that you shared with Hibari it always ended up being too quiet for your tastes. Even when Hibari was home the large home was quiet seeing as Hibari was not one to fill the silence with mindless chit-chat and in the end neither were you. But that quiet was different than this one, this one filled your being with a strange sense of unease. Your eyes panned the room in despite need to find something to do. You pause as you spot your thin black phone that sat on the dark chabudai in the middle of the open living room. Your eyebrows raised in thought and glanced down at your attire. You had decided to be lazy today and chose to wear nothing but one of Hibari’s button down white shirts over a pair of one of your most expensive lingerie sets that you own. You never really wore any of them as much as you used to. You had stopped since you moved in with Hibari. Seeing as he had a habit of ripping the fragile fabric when he became impatient. You had learned your lesson when you had decided to wear a one of a kind limited edition set on one of the few dates that he had taken you on. A sly smile crept onto your lips. If he thinks that you would spend a dull day at home while he got to go out and have fun with no complaints, he had another thing coming. `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` A deep scowl was permanent on the skylarks face today. So was a migraine that pounded behind his eyes, and the one that sat on the couch across from him. Today seemed to tick on forever for him, normally it would be someone else that sat across from him, someone more desirable. Instead, he has had to deal with the blond herbivore ever since he stepped through the entrance of the underground safe house. If you had been here with him, the blond herbivore would have left the moment you had opened your mouth. He never understood why the Chiavarone boss listened to you instead of him. His deep frown got deeper at the thought of depending on you. Suddenly the sound of vibration on solid wood broke through his musing. Not giving a damn if it was rude he reached for his thing flip phone that sat on the coffee table between the two black leather couches. Looking at the small screen on the front of the phone ‘1 new text message from Bambina’ it read. The corner of his mouth twitches up for a fraction of a second at the name you had placed your number under. You had been a bit upset when you had learned that he had put your name as week herbivore instead of your real name or a cute pet name. So you had stolen his cell phone just to change your name, it had been about half a week before he had gotten it back from you. Shaking his head off his drifting thoughts he opened the mobile device with a sharp flick of his wrist and opened the text. What he saw had caused his mind to go blank for a moment. There you sat staring up at the camera with wide eyes and a slight pout on your painted lips one of his old buttons down shirts was completely unbuttoned and shrugged down low so it showed off your shoulders. It wasn’t odd to see you in his clothes you stole his shirts and sweatpants on a daily basis. What caused him to pause was what you wore underneath. A sharp whistle broke his trance. "Hibari you are one lucky man. Is that a bustier and garter?” Sharp eyes snapped to the man that now leaned on the couch behind him looking over his shoulder and at the picture of you on his phone. His teeth ground togeather in irritation how dare this pathetic herbivore think he could look at a privet picture of you and think he can get away with it. Before Dino even realized what had happened he was on the floor with some of the most painful injuries he had ever felt that were inflicted by the younger man. “Tell Sawada that I am leaving, and if he ever sends you to my office again he will be retrieving you back in a body bag.” The tall man rumbled out and walked swiftly out the door before he could be stopped. He had something that needed to be done.
You adjusted the large floppy sun hat to sit more firmly on the top of your head. It was one of the warmer days in Dublin surprisingly seeing as it almost fell. But you weren’t complaining, this gave you a chance to window shopping one last time before it became too cold for you. It was also a nice time to finally wear a new outfit that you bought last week. It was one of your more flowy pieces, with a long dark blue skirt that had a thick leather belt that wrapped tightly around your midsection. It was light and with each step, you took you felt the soft see through material that made the outer layer brush against your bare ankles. It made you feel like twirling in circles just to watch the fabric fan out around you. The shirt you decided to pair it up with was a cream colored tank top. You had accessorized with wedges with blue straps, a brown leather bag, and a wooden necklace. You hummed happily, feeling confident with your choice of clothing. It was going to be a good day today. Just as that thought passed through your mind you suddenly felt a large calloused hand snatch one of your swinging arms and jerk you back into an alleyway you were passing. "Ah!“ You squeaked out when one of your ankles twisted at a weird angle because of the sudden side motion. You stumbled back into the rough brick wall of one of the buildings, scraping your bare arm. Looking up at the culprit that rudely jerked you out of your happy thoughts. "What the heck was that for?” You demanded the man that was still gripping your arm in a death grip. He was a tall man in his late twenties if you had to guess, dark messy hair. five o'clock shadow, and bright blue eyes. A heartthrob if you had met him in a more polite fashion but no. "I’m sorry for the rude and hasty introduction but there is no time for a proper greeting.“ A light Russian accent colored his hastily spoken words. "My name is Isaac and you must follow me and do exactly as I say okay?” He asked as he started to drag you down further into the alleyway towards where a dark car with tinted windows was parked. "NO! Not okay! What the hell is this? Get off me!“ You shouted and tugged at your arm in an attempt to shake his grip off, but his grip held strong. "I’m sorry Ma'am but like I said there is no time to explain, all you need to know is that you are in great danger and I am here to help you.” He explained without looking back at you. "Here to help me?! It’s more like your the one that’s the danger to me! HELP!“ You screamed as you reached down with your other hand to grasp his middle finger and pulled it back as far as you could. This was the wrong way to use this move but you couldn’t remember how they had shown you how to get out of a death grip from the front, and you had to do something. Though your attempt to get free was not successful. "SOMEONE HELP! RAPE! KIDNAP!” You shouted at the tops of your lungs. "Oh…What do we have here?“ A calm deep voice sounded from behind you. At the sound of another person caused a deep rush of relief passes through you. You weren’t going to be taken away by this weird and rude man. Speaking of the man he had frozen mid-stride, the abrupt stop had caused you to bump into his broad back. He slowly turned his head to look behind you. His once tan features were now a sickly white, his bright blue irises were now a barely visible rim surrounding his blown pupils. A thin layer of sweat had gathered on his forehead where a vein now bulged out in fear. You too turned your head to look behind you. Standing there in an all white Italian cut suit was your savior. He was tall, and a shockingly head of white hair despite his young age. His eyes were a beautiful shade of violet that matched his button up shirt and tie. He looked like an angel except for the wide fox-like a smile that was painted his lips, and the strange glint that shown in his eyes. "Why Issac, if I hadn’t known any better I would say you were trying to steal my sweet flower away from me.” The angelic man purred. His voice was light and airy but had a threatening undertone to it. His head cocked to the side his eyes squinted shut, giving a fighting smile. “That is against the rules you know. No one is to touch my flower except for me. And you know very well what happens to people who break the rules.” His lavender eyes cracked open, the fox-grin still persistent as the day. "I’m sorry Byakuran-sama.“ The Japanese title sounded weird mixed with a Russian accent to you. But you were too freaked out to ponder the odd combination. You had no idea what was going on. Angel man had called you his flower, and yet you have never met him before this day. And despite your inability to remember a face, you could never forget meeting someone with that hair and eye color combination. "Byakuran, we have to get going it’s almost time.” Suddenly another voice spoke from behind the white haired man. "Oh, is it that time already?“ Byakuran gave a giggle, which was odd to hear from a grown man. "Why don’t you take my flower to the car while I deal with Issac here, Sho-chan.” As told a redheaded man with glasses stepped out from behind Byakuran. He smoothly walked forward and grabbed you by the arm leading you to the car to the end of the ally. You were too shocked on what had conspired to make any objections about being dragged off by a stranger once again. All you had known that today you had met the devil who had gone by the name of Byakuran. That day you had met the man that says that he has known you for your whole life while you knew not of him. Each time you think back to the encounter and his explanations your head started to pound in confusion. But in the end, you had met the man that you love, so you couldn’t really complain much.