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osamusriceballs · 1 year

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Last-Minute Plans

Ushijima x fem reader

Warnings: NSFW (cockwarming, rather soft)

Words: ~ 1,5 k

About: Wakatoshi got a ring for you, and he needs to make sure it fits.

A/n: Happy Birthday to our beloved Wakatoshi-kun~

"It fits,"

he mumbles with a sigh of relief, one he hadn't realized he was holding. He looks contently at the jewelry now adorning your ring finger.

Ushijima knows that he's late with this. He should have attempted this plan a long time ago; he despises last-minute actions. Lately, however, you've insisted on waiting until he returns home late from practice due to extended training sessions just before the crucial match, making it impossible for him to secretly slip that ring onto your finger to see if it fits. He's aware he hasn't been giving you the time you deserve lately, but he's determined to make it up as soon as he can. He intends to spoil you as soon as the match is over and his schedule finally allows him to have more free time, treating you like the princess you are.

He had nearly abandoned the idea of trying the ring on your finger. He considered simply hoping for the best, planning to alter the ring quickly after proposing if it didn't fit. He knows you wouldn't have minded, but he wanted this moment to be perfect. The first difficulty he had encountered, however, was that you had rings in various sizes in your jewelry box- probably for different fingers, but even after sorting through them, he was still not convinced that he chose the right size.

Relief washes over him as he sees the ring fitting comfortably, and for a short moment, he envisions your future together. He dreams of having you sleep beside him every night, of going on the vacation you've always dreamed of, and of giving you the beautiful wedding ceremony you've always wanted. He's already asked Tendou to be his best man and informed his parents of his plans. He even decided to send his father a notice that his son will be getting married soon—hopefully.

The ring looks stunning on your hand. It's noticeable yet subtly elegant. He's confident you'll love it; you've often praised his taste, describing him as simple in his choices, which you adore.

His gaze drifts to your peaceful sleeping form. You must be exhausted not to have woken up yet. Normally, you'd wait until he returns or awaken when he quietly lies down beside you, an act he's yet to master. You'd always greet him with a tender kiss, a gesture he cherishes most during his days and misses the most when he's away. Yet, you sleep soundly, your face soft, breathing steady. You're wearing one of his shirts, the old Shiratorizawa jersey you claim is the comfiest—adorable on you, he agrees.

He's fairly certain you're wearing only flimsy panties beneath, but he'll take his sweet time tomorrow to explore every inch of your body.

"Toshi," your sleepy voice pulls him from his daydreams, and he quickly hides the ring, clutching your hand in his. You stir, turning towards him, brows furrowing as you reach out blindly.

"Y/n, go back to sleep. It's late," he murmurs in a soothing tone, knowing you find his voice calming.

"I missed you," you groan, squinting your eyes as you try to make out his face in the dimly lit room.

"I missed you too," he replies, smiling softly and leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. You smile in return, bringing your free hand to his cheek, a bit clumsily—almost slapping his face, but he doesn't mind; he is simply happy having you close.

"You haven't shaved today," you mumble as you caress his cheek. He hums in response. "I forgot. Does it bother you?"

"No, it doesn't. But you never forget to shave. What was on your mind today?"

You, he thinks, but for once, he refrains from sharing his thoughts. He needs to distract you, to take back the ring unnoticed. How you haven't noticed it so far surprises him.

"I was thinking about…" he begins, his voice trailing off, unsure how to respond without you getting suspicious.

"Wakatoshi, come to bed. You seem really tired," you yawn, and he suddenly knows what he needs to do.

Ushijima leans down to kiss you again, this time deepening the kiss with more passion. He feels your response, your body arching into his touch, your lips moving in sync with his.

"Toshi," you're already breathless after a few kisses, and he finally feels your hand relax, fingers intertwining with his with the metal still on your finger. He typically holds your hand more firmly, but now he keeps his grip gentle, ensuring you don't feel the ring on your finger. With his free hand, he traces the hem of your shirt, his fingers gliding beneath the fabric, encountering the softness of your skin.

"Want you, but I'm tired," you whisper against his lips, prompting him to nuzzle against your neck. "Should I pleasure you? Should I make you feel full?" You moan softly and weakly nod, your eyes barely open in the dark room. Unbeknownst to you, a wave of relief washes over him. This may not be going exactly as he planned, but making love to you with the ring already on your finger is better than he could have imagined.

He quickly runs through potential scenarios in which he could smoothly slide the ring off your finger, deciding to position himself behind you while maintaining a hold on your hand in front of your body. Shifting his body weight, he maneuvers behind you until his chest presses against your back. He skillfully settles beneath the blanket without releasing your hand, making sure not to tighten his grip around your fingers. His lips find your neck, where he places the gentlest kisses against your skin, earning the softest, most beautiful moans from your lips. His hips begin to rhythmically move against your backside, and he feels how he hardens in his pants.

You contently hum while you lean into his touch, raising one leg to allow him to slip his thigh between yours. "Feels good," you murmur as he starts a grinding motion against your pussy. He feels his growing need, a nearly instinctive response to your body. His earlier suspicion about you wearing only his shirt and panties appears accurate; that much he notices when his shorts ride up and his bare thigh grinds against your cunt. As much as he wants the feeling of your bare skin against his, he knows that undressing might raise too much suspicion. Instead, he guides his free hand downward, gently tracing circles against your clothed center.

"You're so perfect. So beautiful. I love you so much," he whispers into your ear, causing you to shudder in his arms. Your grip on his hand tightens, while your other hand softly clutches the sheets. He understands your needs. Grateful that he's still wearing the soft shorts, he pushes them down slightly, quickly freeing his cock.

"Should I use some lube?" he asks, concern lacing his voice, worried about hurting you since he hasn't fully prepared you yet—a truly challenging task when ensuring your hand remains held and he can only use one hand properly.

"Think I'm wet enough," you mumble, and he dips two fingers between your folds to confirm, and he is rewarded with enough arousal to forget about his worries.

As much as he wants to ravish you right now, he knows you would probably drift off to sleep if he makes love to you tenderly—so that's precisely what he does. He gently spreads your legs further with his thigh, allowing his cock to rest between your legs. It has almost become a routine for him to set aside your panties and gradually ease his cock inside you- a practice that you often do after he comes home late from his practice sessions.

A breathy moan escapes your lips at the stretch, and he feels his own body tensing at the sensation of your soft walls around him. He continues to push until he's fully inside of you. You always take him so well—it feels breathtaking to be buried deep inside you. He still hopes you'll succumb to sleep in this embrace, even though he's surely wide awake himself.

"Feels good," you hum, your breathing gradually returning to a steady rhythm. He pulls you closer, inhaling the soothing flowery scent of your hair- a scent that always brings him comfort and calms his mind when he can't seem to rest. You might not fully grasp how much he loves you—how every fiber of his being yearns for you, how he wishes for you to be happy and to be his. This is precisely why he plans to propose to you tomorrow and to place the ring back on your finger. You wouldn't refuse him on his birthday, would you?

"Sleep well, my love."

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sad-leon · 1 year

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Welcome to the Shadow Leo au :D

It's a lotta text, but I don't know if I'll make a fic for this au. It'll probably be a lotta fics and doodles. Asks are encouraged :D

When Splinter explodes Draxum's lab, a crystal Draxum wanted to experiment that held a bunch of shadow power, dropped on Leo, fusing him into shadows. He can only appear where there is shadow, so he can't go outside alone or in really bright rooms.

He can choose whether to be visible or not in a shadow he occupies, so if he's around strangers, he stays hidden.

Because of all the light from the explosions, he hides in Donnie's shadow as Splinter leaves. He doesn't show himself to anyone outside of Donnie for a long time. It's only when they're toddlers that they speak. Leo's speaks first and scares the hell outta Donnie. His voice has a bit of an echo-reverb tone, but otherwise normal.

Donnie tries to show everyone, but eventually let's Leo explain that he's scared of meeting everyone. He grew up with Donnie, they know all about each other and their triggers and such. Leo doesn't have that familiarity with the others and he's scared of breaking down in front of them.

When Donnie brings April to the lair, Leo is excited at the prospect of meeting someone who is also an outsider. When she and Donnie hang out in the lab, Leo shows himself to her. She tries to punch him, she just bruises her knuckled on the wall. Over the years, April, Donnie, and Leo become an indestructible trio.

The fam still doesnt know about Leo when they break into Draxum's lab. Draxum immediatly notices Leo in the shadows and gathers all his mystic crystals to try and break his shadow powers. On of the crystals he hits Leo with grants him the ability to emerge from the walls, though his still looks all shadowy.

Leo still chooses to hide in Donnie's shadow, though he ventures out on his own a bit more now that he can hold swords and stuff. Leo still steals the odachi from Draxum, but his use of it is limited to only slicing, though if Donnie swings it, Leo can influence the portals if he's connected to Donnie's shadow.

[Sidenote: when the brother unlock their Ninpo, Leo unlocks his as well, granting him ability to use his portals himself. He can also do the funky teleportation thing.]

---

Leo's out on his own one night when he see's Usagi hanging around the turtle fam's lair. He appears to the rabbit and surprisingly, the rabbit doesnt freak out. Usagi and Leo are quick friends. Leo tells Donnie about Usagi and convinces Donnie to meat the rabbit and eventually, Usagi becomes an honorary turtle, just like April.

---

(Leo is still Casey's future sensei, but by then they had found something, a charm or a potion, that made him physical. When Casey asks about him, Donnie avoids eye contact, but everyone else is confused.)

(The key is snatched by the foot clan because Raph couldn't get to it fast enough. Leo tries to blame himself because if he wasn't so scared he could have used his portals to get it. Donnie won't let him blame himself, and neither will anyone else when they finally meet him.)

During the movie events, Leo connects to Raph's shadow when Mikey and Donnie get flung off. He makes himself physical and pushes Raph toward his brothers. He also snatches Raph's wrist comm. Raph is too panicked to consider what just happened and jumps off to catch his brothers.

He shouts for CJ to close the portal. Casey immediatly follows the command shouted by his sensei's voice before he can process it. Leo stays physical long enough to keep Kraang distracted, then ducks into the shadows.

With the whole Prison Dimension being basically one big shadow, Leo is able to stay hidden after the portal closes. He doesnt heal in the shadows, but his inuries don't worsen. It takes about a year until Leo finds his sword and portals himself home.

Donnie, April, and Usagi are all a fucking wreck in a way no one understands, no matter how much they explain Leo and his predicament. Raph explains that he was pushed by a shadow and Donnie breaks down on the spot. Because even though Leo would never meet the fam, he'd still sacrifice himself for them.

For months, Donnie begs Casey Jr to tell him how Future Mikey opened a portal, but CJ won't say anything past explaining how it killed Future Mikey.

Donnie doesn't stop looking for any sign of Leo, but after months he has no choice but to move on. Leo's sword was put in a glass, guarded case after Donnie tried to use it to portal to Leo.

Sometimes Donnie sits in a dark corner and talks to himself.

Then one day, the alarm attached to Leo's sword goes off. Everyone thinks it's Donnie trying to portal again, but they all rush in to see a shadowy Leo injured, on the ground. Donnie breaks down on the spot, but tries to pull himself together enough to help with bandaging what they can see of Leo's wounds.

Leo wakes up to his family around him and finally lets himself meet the rest of his brothers.

#shadow leo #sad•leonart #rottmnt leo #rise leonardo #rottmnt donnie #rise donatello #i love this au #shadow leo is my boi and i would kill for him #funfact for the tag readers: shining a flashlight on his physical form hurts him #if the shadow hes in diminishes hes forced to become physical #they only learned about the flashlight thing when april accidentally shone one on him during a sleepover or something #i could ramble about my blorbos for hours :D #plz ask about my blorbos ;-;#/hj no pressure of course #also the next part of the crossover should be up tomorrow #only got a few more pages to color #inspired by macaque from lmk #never seen lmk tho

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stop-the-play · 1 month

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> What? No, I'm not doing that. [Continue up the stairs]

VOICE OF THE HERO: Yeah, I figured as much. Just had to say it.

You continue up the stairs, always one step behind the sorcerer. It pauses for a moment in the doorway, before smoothly stepping out and into the first floor of the cabin, gesturing to the exterior door.

"If you would be so kind? It, ah, doesn't seem to open for me."

VOICE OF THE HERO: This could be a trick. But you're too committed to trusting it, aren't you? Go on, then.

> [Open the door and step outside]

You push open the door and step out into the forest. The smell of damp earth is the same here as it was in the basement, but the air is fresh and the sky is clear.

The sorcerer slips out of the doorway behind you.

"We... made it out?"

It turns to you, the glint of tears shining from the corners of its eyes.

"We made it out! And all we had to do was trust each other. It was... easier than I thought."

VOICE OF THE HERO: All right, I'll admit it. This is... sweet.

The sorcerer's expression softens.

"I'm... sorry, about last time. I should have trusted you from the beginning instead of... well. Killing you."

"W-wait. What's happening?"

VOICE OF THE HERO: It's like everything is... unravelling. Is this the end of the world?

The sorcerer rushes towards you, but the distance between you seems far more vast than should be possible, and your hands only grasp at empty air.

The world around you collapses into a point, leaving only an empty, starry sky that somehow feels as though it's crushing you. And then everything goes dark, and you die.

This is the end.

#evening update!#no poll today sorry. the next part will be up tomorrow morning at what is supposed to be the usual time #stop the play #run 1 act 1 #the show must go on #slay the princess

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a-fuked-up-mess · 29 days

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the dynamic between yuji and nobara is so, so chaotic and funny and similar to eachother like they're on the same wavelength and oh my gods, still so nonsensical that it's hilarious.

next, the live action scenes are just... i can understand manga fans' frustration in action scenes a bit because it's literally something else entirely to see it flow like that than to see its picture by picture.

these negative emotions of mankind become the source of curses, they said. and yuji put all his negative emotions which are hate, fear and regret to turn it into that red flame fist. from this im assuming that all the negative emotions are also what jujutsu sorcerers use as their powers? and by basic fantasy logic, the stronger the emotions, the stronger the power ig? and as they said gojo is the strongest... does that mean he has a lot of negativity inside? eh dunno.

and after the howl, when sukuna comes out and fights that white, raisin looking curse... damn. and after he creates his domain and kills the curse and all. yup, epic. also, ryomen sukuna... why's he kinda... um... no nvm.

again, some scenes i should mention: idiot level teachings on special grade, yuji and nobara after the exit was lost and then petting with megumi's dog, megumi and itadori arguing over tadashi's dead body and yuji's internal struggle about the idea of "a proper death", megumi summoning animals, nobara (almost dying): you know i really hate frogs/megumi (trying to rescue her): well that's just too damn bad, the scene when sukuna burns that white, raisin looking curse with purple flame, and, nobara's phone's death because of kiyotaka ijichi lmao.

last, from ep3, that log entry of a curse being born and one of the three first year dying... is it itadori? because at the end of ep4, when sukuna asks him to switch, he doesn't or maybe... he can't. so is yuji stuck inside the body or something? or maybe im reading too much into it

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yanderecookierunkingdom · 5 months

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The Final Sunset: Choice Decided

Previous/First | Next

You decided.. to visit the ill Cookies.

You know you shouldn't be doing this, walking out alone. You should maybe have brought Mala Sauce Cookie, or someone else, but you can't find yourself to bother them. It's your fault that they're all like this. You failed them, so you must act quickly.

As you carry the lantern, the snow blowing through the trees and shaking off the leaves, you feel chills creeping up your back. You quicken your step, wanting to get to the quarantine shelter as soon as possible.

Unaware that someone has already partly succumb to the Frost, and is watching you.

#series: the final sunset #tfs: choice decided #cosmos constellations #little tide over thing because the next part will be delayed to tomorrow! A huge chunk of it didn't work out and so I figured it's best to-#delay the part instead of taking forever with it. plus it gives other people time to round up their ocs in case they want them shown in ->#the next part!

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 1 year

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ayyy im back with another Unedited human au snippet <3 it's almost entirely dialogue oopsies <3

Eddie slows in putting his coat on - Barnaby isn’t sticking around to chat with fellow staff like usual. He’s in a rush, scrambling to grab his jacket and hurrying from behind the bar. He dashes through the door, looking like a man on a mission.

The door Mr. Frankly had just vanished through.

Could he be…? No, Barnaby seems like a good man. But he had seemed a little pushy with Mr. Frankly, from what Eddie could tell.

It couldn’t hurt to make sure.

Eddie frowns deeply as he goes outside, wincing slightly at the first burst of cold air after hours spent in a warm building. He’s just in time to see Barnaby jog up behind Frankly and close his car door before he can get in. Barnaby immediately leans against the door with his arms crossed, pinning it shut and blocking Frankly from the driver’s seat.

Eddie’s stomach plummets. Before he knows it, he’s speed-walking across the parking lot towards them, a fire burning in his chest and his hands curled into fists.

Frankly says something loud enough that Eddie can almost hear, his voice echoing in the empty lot. As Eddie watches, Barnaby pokes Frankly’s chest, making him stagger back a step.

“Hey!” Eddie barks.

Both of them jump and whip around - Barnaby’s eyebrows shoot into his hair, while Frankly’s lowers into a flat line.

“Eddie?” Barnaby says.

At the same time, Frankly says, “Mr. Dear?”

The two of them look at each other in surprise. Eddie pays the exchange no mind. He stops by Frankly, trying to slightly angle himself in front of him without making it too obvious.

“Is everything all right here?” he asks, looking Barnaby up and down. He really hopes this won’t come to blows - Eddie can throw a punch well enough, but Barnaby is an imposing figure. Eddie already knows he’d likely lose, but as long as he can buy Frankly a couple extra seconds…

“No, actually, everything is not fine,” Frankly says in a ticked-off - and strangely scolding - tone.

Barnaby, not breaking eye-contact with Frankly, counters with, “Everything’s peachy, Ed.”

“You sure about that?” Eddie asks, trying to keep his tone amicable.

“Scout’s honor.”

“Please,” Frankly scoffs, “you were never a boy scout. And that’s not the point - I am trying to get home!”

“You are trying to die in the most avoidable way possible.”

Eddie shoots Frankly a concerned look. “You’re what?”

“I am perfectly sober,” Frankly says.

Barnaby raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Your face is flushed.”

“It is not!”

Eddie winces. “It, uh, it is. A little.”

“It’s none of your business,” Frankly seethes.

“Listen,” Barnaby sighs. He leans heavier against the car and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t wanna be the one 'ta call Julie and deliver the news that her beloved Frankie went and got himself killed at the taco bell intersection.”

Frankly makes a high and derisive noise. “Excuse you, I have class. I’d die outside of Howdy’s.”

“Please, he’d turn your memorial into part of the gift shop. I can already see the signs - ‘dead friend sale, five percent off!’”

“I’m worth at least thirty percent.”

Eddie clears his throat and gestures between the two of them. “You two… know each other?”

“Unfortunately,” Frankly mutters.

Barnaby grins. “Aw, you’re just saying that. It’s okay - I know ya love me, Frankie. You don’t have to say it.”

“I do not.”

“I have evidence that proves otherwise.”

Frankly rolls his eyes. “You’re unbearable.”

“And yet…”

Eddie heaves a sigh - of relief or exhaustion, he’s not sure - and drags a hand over his face. “Alright. Good, I - good to know.”

“What, did’ja think I was attacking him?” After a moment of prolonged, awkward silence, Barnaby’s teasing smile drops. “Oh. You did.”

“Barnaby? Attack me?” Frankly snorts. “Give him some credit - he’s smarter than he looks.”

“Yeah, I’d have better chances taking on a pack’a hyenas!” Barnaby lets out a hearty cackle. “At least then we’d all get a laugh out of it!”

“So I misjudged the situation pretty terribly,” Eddie says, inching to the side to give Frankly his personal space back. “My apologies.”

“Don’t sweat it, Ed. I know Frank may look like a bundle of sticks, but he’s petrified wood all the way through! Pure stone, you know.” Barnaby grins and leans towards Eddie. He whispers conspiratorially, “‘Cept when it comes to holdin’ his liquor. Then he’s a total lightweight.”

“Barnaby,” Frankly hisses.

“Practically paper!”

“That’s enough, thank you!” Frankly makes an attempt at shoving Barnaby away from the car door, but Barnaby widens his stance. It’s like watching someone try to move a tree.

“See, this is how I know he shouldn’t be driving,” Barnaby says conversationally to Eddie. “If he were sober, I’d be the one drunk - punch-drunk, that is.”

Eddie isn’t sure whether or not he should laugh - was that a joke? Barnaby seems fond of them, but… surely Frankly isn’t a violent person. Frankly lets out a growl of frustration and clumsily tries to bodyslam Barnaby. Eddie inches back a step.

“Alright Frankie, you had your fun.” Barnaby scruffs Frankly like a misbehaving cat and holds him at arm's length. He holds out a hand. “C’mon. Keys.”

“Never.”

“Have it your way. I’ll go ahead and call Poppy, tell her that you’ve forgotten the many dangers of-”

“Oh, fine,” Frankly spits. He yanks his keys out of his pocket and slaps them into Barnaby’s waiting hand.

Barnaby flicks the keys as Frankly stalks to the passenger side door and yanks it open. “Choose a place for dinner, we’ll swing by and pick it up - my treat.”

“Obviously your treat,” Frankly grumbles. “As if I’d-”

The slam of his door cuts off whatever he says next, though Eddie can see him still talking in the car. His phone screen illuminates his irritated expression as he - presumably - looks up places for takeout.

“Well, I’m glad you were here to stop him from doin’ somethin’ everyone would regret,” Eddie says. ��Mr. Frankly-”

“Mr. Frankly?” Barnaby snorts. “You’re not one of his students, are ya?”

“I’m just bein’ polite. He set the tone by referrin’ to me by Mr. Dear, so I’m tryin’ to respect that line in the sand.”

Barnaby shakes his head, grinning. “Just call him Frank. He puts up a big show of bein' a grouch, but he’s really a big softie. Though don’t - don’t try to pick a fight with him. Ever. You’ll lose.”

“Wasn’t plannin' on it.” Eddie makes a mental note to keep calling him Mr. Frankly, just to be on the safe side. It’s not like they’re friends, anyway. More like… acquaintances. Occasional Run-Into-Each-Other strangers.

#shorter than usual - only a little over 1k - but yk the motivation provides what it provides #in my docs this is titled 'aw... babe's first protective attempt'#or i guess we could call it #eddie's past parasocial relationships come back to haunt him more than they already have #also barnaby definitely teased frank about eddie in whatever place they're picking up food from #lmaoooo no wait #barnaby: so about eddie-#frank: so about howdy.#barnaby: .....#frank: .....#barnaby: hey i think that's our order #wh modern human au #snippets from the bog #in my mind frank is actually kinda pleased #annoyed of course. he doesnt need anyone to protect him #but i bet a part of him enjoyed having the strong mailman attempt to ~come to his rescue~#i imagine that the next time they see each other frank invites him to lunch or somethin #'just' to 'thank' eddie for trying his best #yep alright yawn yawn yawn its almost 3 i should sleep #tomorrow is one of two final days to complete packing! its almost Time!#tonight was decent... got some tasty tacos... listened to somethin neat... did a bit of writing... yeah <3

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figofswords · 5 months

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the post grad why did i get an art degree what am i even doing what do i want in life where am i going crisis has finally hit i want to. lie down in the dirt. or something

#WHAT AM I DOING!!!!#i get up i go to my stupid retail job i stick labels on bags they pay me fucking thirteen bucks an hour i come home i lie on the couch #too tired to draw in too much pain to go anywhere no energy to reach out to college friends to do anything fun #no idea where the even start with getting an industry job no clue what i even WANT at this point #trying to remember what i loved so much about comics i want it BACK i HATE this #WHAT IS THE POINT!!!! WHAT DO I WANT WHERE AM I GOING!!! WHAT COMES NEXT!!!!!!#there's no clear career trajectory i can't do freelance i need structure i can't work too much i need free time #my brain doesn't work every job requires me to move across the country the irs just took fucking three hundred stupid dollars from me #my friends live in different states i can't get a job without experience i can't get experience without a job #i can't work on my portfolio with no energy and no time and i dont have any money and everything is so expensive all the time #i can't get anywhere bc i dont drive and im too stressed to think about taking driving lessons again #and WHAT DO I WANT!#THE MOST INTERESTING THING I DO EVERY WEEK IS GO TO PHYSICAL THERAPY!#I AM EXCITED EVERY WEEK FOR PHYSICAL THERAPY!!!! WHY!!!!!!!!#anyway WHATEVER i need to go to bed #delete later #i got into spx. today. so. had to have a crisis about how i felt when i attended spx (energized. excited. a part of something. ambitious)#versus how i feel now (tired. unmotivated. kind of apathetic about art. disconnected)#i dont miss the stress of school but i miss being around other artists. ppl who speak your language and who want the same things you want #ppl who are excited abut art and that makes YOU excited about art. ppl who get you #i miss that i want that back #whatever. its 1am i gotta go shower i have an 8.5 hour shift tomorrow. wahoo. $13.50/hr lets go

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vinnigami · 1 year

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September 26 2023

Part 1 | Next >>

#persona #persona 3 #persona 3 reload #minato arisato #ryoji mochizuki #ryomina #vinnigami doodles #next part tomorrow all queued up :)

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plush-rabbit · 1 year

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Phantoms and Memories

Continuation to Spots and Stops

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: If i let if go any further, it would have been well over 5K so I had to cut up the chapter ( ◕ᴗ◕)っ✂ (its also in his pov this time!! and so will next chapter)

As Johnathan runs, he’s thankful that the effects of the Super-Collider had given him longer legs. He doesn’t think he’d be able to run as long if not for the long strides that he takes as police chase after him. This most certainly isn’t fair- he hadn’t even stolen anything! When the cops had stopped and shined their light at him, he panicked and immediately set off.

The lights of the vehicle flash behind him, red and blue filling the night and people move out their way as a cop shouts at him to stop. One in the cruiser and the other pursuing him on foot.

Turning a corner, he grabs at a spot near his wrist- the jacket he wears pushed to his elbows- and holds onto it. He doesn’t trust himself to throw it and jump into it- knowing his luck, the hole would be much too small, and he’d just get stuck in it. No. Not again.

Instead, he jumps up, and the creaky ladder of a fire escape bangs down. Once more, he’s thankful for the long legs that allow him to climb easily and take two stairs at a time compared to the cop who is trailing behind. Reaching the roof of the building, he puts the spot in front of him, and taking in a shuddering breath, he stops. He hasn’t done a long jump with one of his holes before. It’s been something quick and nearby- nothing faraway. But hearing the cop behind him, there isn’t much time to ponder about where he’ll end up, he just hopes that wherever the spot leads him to, is home.

Like blinking, it’s a moment of darkness, falling into nothingness, until he realizes he is falling. His legs kick out until just a second later, he falls onto a soft surface- bumpy, but soft. He lifts himself up on his forearms, scanning around what appears to be a dark room. Maybe he did manage to control where he went this time.

His hand pulls at whatever it is that squishes under him. In the dark room where the only light comes from a streetlamp behind closed blinds, he sees that it’s a pillow shaped like a flower. The fabric stretches down where his hand has fisted over one of the stuffed petals. He turns, and he freezes. He holds tightly onto the pillow and he can barely make it out, he can barely make you out, but it’s you. Asleep on your bed and asleep in your room.

How you didn’t hear or feel him fall onto your bed is beside the point- even with being a heavy sleeper, that must be a stroke of luck for him. Why are you here? A better and appropriate question is why is he here? He doesn’t want to be here. He can’t be here. Sure, you had invited him to come if he needed something but he doubts that you actually meant it- more as a nicety than anything- and even if you had meant it, he doubts that you meant it like this.

The flower goes behind him, and he waits- quiet and still, he hopes that you don’t wake up. Please, don’t wake up. To whatever deity that listens to him, he promises that if you don’t wake up, he’ll never see you again. He can’t handle seeing your reaction if he stopped by unannounced. Crawling slowly, he moves to get off of your bed. Even with you being such a heavy sleeper, every time the bed creaks under his weight, he pauses, the bed creaks under his weight and every creak has him go rigid.

His feet are flat against the floor and he turns, your phone lighting up as a message enters. His curiosity gets the best of him and he takes soft footsteps to peek. It’s from an unsolved number that simply asks if you’re awake. Hurt grips at him in unforgiving claws.

The time is ten past two. Your phone is fully charged, and he takes another look at you. You still sleep soundly and undisturbed. He unplugs your phone, and lets the cable hang over the drawer knobs. No matter how many times he told you that charging your phone overnight is harmful for the battery, you never seemed to listen. You continued to charge it.

Turning to you, he sees that the blanket is askew, draping over the side of the bed. Adjusting it, so that it now covers your body, he tucks you in, pulling it up to your shoulders. He lifts his hand up and hovers your head, and as his fingertips brush against your skin, he pulls back. The memory of you reacted when he last touched you is fresh in his mind. You recoiled away. He wonders if you washed yourself of his touch right after he was kicked out. Instead, he watches you, asleep and unaware of him. Your phone lights up again, and he frowns. Taking another peek, it’s the same unsaved number. Looking back to you, he fists his hand at his side. He wishes that he could touch you one more time- just a final touch, a final kiss to allow him to let go of you. But he can’t do that- he’d feel awful knowing that he did something to you. You’d probably be disgusted with him if you knew what he was doing.

He should leave.

You didn’t wake up. He did promise that if you didn’t wake up, he wouldn’t return- he wouldn’t see you again. You’ve moved on, and he should too.

Still, he can’t pull himself away. He wants to look at you like he would before. He wants you to look at him like you would before. He wants to slip into the bed beside you and pull you to his chest and feel you rest your hand over his stomach. You sleep, and he stares and it’s creepy and gross and an invasion of your privacy, but he can’t help it. He needs to look at you, needs to engrave you into his memory until he can picture you without even trying.

His hand lifts again, shaky and unsure as it reaches over, and just as he’s about to trace over your features, your phone rings. Scurrying, he hides himself behind the bottom edge of your mattress. He pulse himself down, making sure that not an inch of him is seen over where you sit.

The ringing stops, and he hears your voice.” Hello?” It’s raspy and heavy with sleep. He can’t hear the other side of the conversation no matter how much he tries to strain his hearing. “Yeah, well I was asleep.” You mutter something under your breath too light for him to hear. “I’m listening, I’m listening.” You pause. “Yeah, no I’m not really in the greatest mood considering that I was woken up in the middle of the night.” You never liked being woken up- he’s made that mistake a few times. “Look-” you exhale- “I’m sorry that I led you on-” it doesn’t sound sincere but rather annoyed- “but it’s over, okay? Like for good.” Another pause. “No, no. It’s over. I’m done. Good luck or whatever. Bye.”

Your phone lights up the room in a bright glow and as quick and blinding as it came, it’s snuffed out. He hears you fall back into bed. You groan and the bed shakes as you turn.

Silence fills the room and Johnathan’s heart beats in fear. He just has to wait a few minutes until you’re back to sleep. It won’t take long. You’ve always been quick to fall back to sleep and after being rudely woken up, you’ll slip off into slumber in no time.

He waits and waits, and after what feels like eternity, he hears soft thumping- you’re kicking into the bed. “Fuck,” you whine. “Fuck.” You toss and turn, and he can hear the assault on the pillow as you try to make yourself comfortable.

Oh no. You can’t fall back to sleep.

He should have left when he had the chance. This is his punishment.

Carefully, he peels off a hole, and places it beside himself, maybe he can slip away like this, he enters his hand into the hole. Keeping his gaze fixed looking above, he pushes his hand into the hole, fingers outstretched, fluttering about looking for a flat surface. He’s elbow deep, the hole on his face contorting into what would be frustration if he still had his face. He can’t find it, and you’ve already begun to kick at the blankets and grumble at yourself.

You’ve already lost your sleep- taken away by a phone call from someone who you used to date.

Johnathan tries not to dwell on that. It’s too fresh of a wound. You’re too fresh of a wound.

As he reaches further down, his body presses against the floor. All he needs is to know that something is on the other side, something that might break his fall or would at least get him out of your room. Too focused on looking up to see if you’d peep your head over, he feels something ghosts over the side of head, fleeting and spindly, and he yelps.

Oh fuck. He turns, hoping to find a spider, but it’s just his hand, the portal made to just be a few feet away from where he made it

“Hello?” Your voice is alert. Even if he were to be quiet, you’d never buy it.

The light clicks on, and he can hear you rummage through your nightstand. “Hello? No, fuck. I- I have a weapon.” Your voice is shaky. He stays silent, pulling away the spot and making another one that ends up on your wall on the opposite side. “I'll call the police.”

He lowers his head and lifts an arm. “It’s me. It’s just me.” He hopes that he’s the only one with white skin that you know.

“Johnathan?”

His head knocks against the wooden frame of the mattress, and he lowers his hand. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pop in unexpectedly. I just- I got myself into a pickle and I just threw a spot and now I’m here.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

He had wanted to go home. Or at least pop in anywhere but here. He can’t believe that his holes would betray him like this.

The bed creaks, and he pulls his arm back from the spot, watching above him, seeing if you’d peek over to see him. You don’t. “A pickle? Are you okay?” He can hear the soft rustle of the blankets. “Are you hurt?”

He shrugs, but you can’t see him. “Oh, um. Yeah, yeah.” His knees feel as if they’re on fire and he’s ready to put this day behind him. “I’m okay.”

You stay silent.

“I’ll get out of your hair, I just- It’s hard to control my holes and where they take me.” He fumbles with another spot. That one pools on your ceiling.

“Jonathan?”

He pulls the spot back. “Yeah?”

“You can say no, but um, can I see you?”

The spot of his face stretches, and he feels his body tense. He remembers how you reacted to him the first time. And the second time- granted he did catch you in a vulnerable moment, but it was because of him that you were so- so vulnerable. He should tell you no. He should leave and never look back, and never think of you. But then you call his name, and his resolve crumbles. When the two of you were together and happy, he could never tell you no; he could never deny you anything that you had wanted.

His hands brace themselves against the edge of the bed frame, and he stands, looking down at the ground, unable to see you. Never has he felt so bare and exposed.

The bed creaks, and he sees a shadow approach and a familiar shirt peeks in the corner of his vision. He can feel your eyes on him, and your hands flex and unflex in want. He should look at you. He should give himself that grace, he should take one look at you while you look at him. When he looks up, he’s tilting his head down, head cocked to the side, as you look at him with doe eyes shining in unshed tears. Your hands fist into his old shirt, and you look at him.

“It’s rude to stare,” he mumbles.

You still continue to stare. You suck in your bottom lip, your teeth teasing at it, and he hates that he can’t kiss you, that he can’t touch you without one of you resulting in tears. You swallow, and part your lips once more. Would you still taste like mint? Or would you taste like sleep? Would you close your eyes and pretend that he was someone else if he leaned towards you? Are you pretending that he’s someone else right now? Are you only able to stomach him and his appearance because you think of someone else?

“Can you eat?” You ask, and it’s almost laughable that all that you could tell him, and it’s that. A simple, curious question. It’s entirely you.

“Yes,” he answers. What would you say next? Would ask if he could chew? If he still has teeth that would tear apart meat and grain? Would you ask if he still has lips? Would you continue to ask him questions so that he could stay a little while longer in the comfort of your bedroom? “Why do you ask?”

“Are you hungry?” Your hands fist over the stomach of his old shirt. “We- I can make you something if you’d like.”

He’d eat glass if it meant that he could stare at you some more. “I can eat.” You give him a ghost of a smile, and he takes it eagerly. “What do you have around?” Is he allowed to be greedy? Can he ask and ask until you can no longer give him what he wants?

You climb off the bed, adjusting at the shirt and pulling down the legs of your shorts. He follows you out of your room, and now as a stranger in your home, he feels like a ghost invading your space- walking past memories that he no longer has access to. He walks past the living room, the weight and tension a swirling mess, threatening to pull the both of you in and keep you stuck forever in a loop of grief. He holds his breath until he enters the kitchen. Motioning for him to sit at the table, you open the fridge, a cool blast makes goosebumps prick your skin.

Turning your head, you look just like how he remembers you. “Are you okay with sandwiches?”

“Do you have chips?” He’ll be greedy and gluttonous- stuffing himself full of food in order to sit with you longer.

Nodding, you begin to pull out the ingredients to make sandwiches and he watches from the chair, stiff and cold, wanting to believe that he won’t be back after tonight. But as you bring out the plates and pull out the drinks- his favorite is still in your fridge even after all this time remains unopened and cold. You place the ingredients in front of him and alongside you, he prepares his sandwich.

You’re done with yours fairly quickly, and you turn on the television, and a late night show fills the room. Fake laughter, and fake applause is all that rings in him, and in his hand is a sandwich made with a gluttonous desire to take all that he can.

When he takes a bite, it’s sour.

“We probably should have toasted the bread,” you tell him, peeling off the crust. “Untoasted is fine and all it if we were going to make sandwiches-”

“-We should have done it properly,” he finishes. Looking up at you, he can’t finish the sandwich- not when it tastes like it’ll give him heartburn. “Chips?” The drink remains unopened, collecting condensation on the side and dripping onto the placemats on the table. Hissing comes from the soda, and he looks at the opening.

“In the pantry.” You take a bite of your sandwich and glance at him through the corner of your eyes. “You’re free to check.” You close your eyes, humming at the mouthful of food in your mouth.

He stands, and searches through the cabinets, a brand new bag of chips sits, and he grabs at it, the colors popping against his skin. Reaching down into a drawer, he pulls out a reusable straw. A metallic one, the silver distorting his image in the reflection. It sits beside yours- iridescent and solid colors.

The chips sit at the table and the straw- his straw- sits in his drink. He turns his head every time he takes a sip. You don’t look at him. This entire time, you haven’t casted a glance towards him except in the beginning. You make small conversation as you eat your sandwich and place a few chips onto your plate. Your drink is opened, and you never take your eyes off of it. The television still plays. He’s only taken small bites of his own, the taste not returning, and the bitterness staining him.

“Why did you ask me to stay?” His holes are shifting, swirling and constricting as he waits for your answer.

You cast him a glance. Finally, you look at him. “I just-” you let out a long exhale- “You want the truth or a lie?”

“The truth.”

Shrugging, you take another sip and look at him, turning your body in the chair to fully face him. “I-” the words get stuck in your throat and you look away- “I have no right to say it, but I missed you.” He stills. “I know what I did was awful, but-” you hold the can and the aluminum bends under your touch- “you were right. It’s still you.” You look at him again, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so saturnine. Even your tone is sorrowful and empty, and the words hang in the air, unanswered to.

He stays silent. And you continue, keeping your gaze on him. It must be taking all of your willpower to even do so.

“Do you think you could stay a while?” He’s silent. “You can say no.” You turn away from him, and push yourself away from the table. “I know that I shouldn't be asking you anything of the sort, but I hope you’ll say yes. If not, then you know, just lock up when you leave.”

You have the gall to ask that of him. You open your home to him, and offer him food, and he takes it with acid poisoned in him, with hands stained with muck and gunk, and his pale white skin is stained with holes and spots. And still, as if it were the first night that he spent with you, anxiety chills him to his core and roots him in place.

He’ll get up and lock the door behind him. Johnathan will rid himself of you, and let all of this be some dream that felt too real. He’ll do it. His chest fills with air, and the chair scrapes against the floor. He’ll leave a mess behind, and when you clean it in the morning with the bird chirping outside and the soft rays of light shining against your table, you’ll miss him. Every step that he takes is heavy, and slow, weights placed on his ankles to pull him back so as to not make a dumb mistake. You can hope that he’ll say yes, and he can hope that when morning comes, you’ll still miss him. And he stands in the living room, back where he stood before you all those nights ago.

The room looks so different. Emptier.

Every step has him hoping that he’s making the right decision. What more could you ever say to him? What words could ever mend him back together? What tenderness could ever replace the cold and callous nature that you bared at him in his weakest moments? He holds the doorknob in his hands, and he hopes that he’ll never get to find out. He hopes that when he closes the door behind him, he’ll have it all figured out.

#the spot #the spot x reader #johnathan ohnn x reader #johnathon ohnn #jonathan ohnn headcanons #johnathan ohnn #im gonna start using the h in the fics #but will i go back and fix the rest #probably #porbably not #i dont know #im lazy #i have to go to work so tags are rushed but yeah #hopefully the next part is tonight or tomorrow #i had to split it up #it was gonna be way to long #as a single chapter #plus the mood shifts so ya know #i think that was a good break

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loopdile · 2 months

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transcription under the cut!

The worst ship chart ever.

Ship name: Loopdile

[insert very tiny math] Ages: 43 and 31? Age difference: 8?

Portrait of Odile with an eyebrow raised saying "I'm not telling." Name: Odile. Gender: trans woman (maybe nb but idrc rn). Sexuality: Aro lesbian.

Portrait of Loop with a finger raised saying "I'm not telling~" Name: Loop. Gender: Nonbinary (??? what is identity). Sexuality: Ace bi

General sliders. "Relationship starts quickly vs the slowest burn you can possibly imagine" is marked fairly close to slowly and trails off towards slow burn. "They'll be together forever vs They'll break up after 2 months tops" has two marks, one at 2 months and one really close to forever. "Cute couple vs dear god they're ugly" is marked a quarter slider away from cute. "Reasonably healthy and normal relationship vs They're dying and getting killed and hurt man" has a wide mark all the way from the halfway point to a quarter away from healthy. "Extremely popular ship vs literally no one ships this but me" is marked fairly close to no one.

Specific sliders. "Giddy and happy to be in love vs they just killed themselves 40 times in their head at the idea of being in love" has loop at died and odile fairly close to died. "The madoka vs the homura" has loop at homura and odile a third of the slider away. "Telling anyone who will listen about their partner vs rarely brings up that they're in a relationship" has loop a quarter away from telling anyone and odile fairly close to rarely. "eats and/or encourages a healthy diet vs eats dry instant noodles only" has loop at noodles and odile a third away from healthy. "crazy ass vs truck freak" has loop at crazy ass and odile fairly close to truck freak.

Tell me why your ship is interesting... go!

What draws them together? Odile is the only motherfucker that can handle them; Loop is weird and intriguing.

What stands in the way? Poor communication skills; Loop is clingy but Odile often needs space; Loop lashes out and self-isolates.

What are their good traits? They're both hilarious and dedicated to the bit; they're both devoted to their loved ones.

What makes them hopeless at romance? Odile is aro-spec and uninterested in romance; Loop both hates/fears and craves romance; Luckily they can just be something stranger!

Describe them with one trope: found family, deadpan x emotional, secret third thing, I'll protect you from yourself.

#suicide mention #these are today's headcanons... tomorrow? who knows.....#so. the weird sliders.#siffrin had a low grade crush on odile which. obviously didn't instantly come to fruition but it's not exactly a slow burn situation eithe?#and then during sasasap and isat loop's emotions about everything ever were. not doing great #they come out of canon a total mess #and odile's like ...i could fix them. NO WAIT IM NOT DOING THAT.#so again the thought is there and. a little more slowburn y this time. but only for a specific part of the dynamic #and then there's kinda a slow build of loop's new dynamics w everyone in the group?#and the thing with odile escalates into being a Thing #but again it's hard to call it slow burn bc there's no like. line to tip over into dating.#but it's not *instant* either #it's a snowball gaining speed downhill #ok next weird slider #oh yeah #they 'break up' fairly often as one of loop's 'this is 100% a joke and not my real feelings at all' bits #even though they're not dating and they don't actually want to break off whatever shit they do have going on #it's a way to express a need for change #BUT the whole family is in it for the long haul #and loop and odile's dynamic may shift over time but again. there's no 'breaking up' line #so they won't necessarily be [together?] forever but they will be together forever #and then it's. not an *unhealthy* relationship but it's not normal either lol #with a whole range of behaviors between 'genuinely helpful to each other' and 'lmao what the fuck guys'#ok those r the weird ones! the rest are obvious right. like ofc odile is closer to truck freak 🙄 but not entirely

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