#wrote this on a plane

[worldsetfree]

Jotaro × Reader: Homecoming

It still doesn't feel real to him. Life was so normal two months ago, when he was just some punk in high school. Before the ghosts and the friendships and the wild days travelling across the desert. Before he made his first genuine friends in his life (and lost too many of them). Before the knives and the blood, there was so much blood-

"Jotaro?"

Seafoam green eyes widen and he tilts his head, pulled out of his thoughts by the person sitting beside him.

Ah.

That's right.

You're here, too.

Covered in bruises and bandages of your own, but you're here, smiling softly at him, speaking in such a gentle tone.

"Are you all right?"

Inexplicably and without his intent, over the course of the past 50 days, he had found you as well. You two had spent days cramped together in cars (and planes, and a submarine), huddled up under starlit skies, and lost in winding mazes of food stalls and open-air markets... In those little moments of normalcy, something had bloomed between the two of you that he's still grappling with. Something he's not sure he would have made it without.

You aren't quite like anybody he's ever met before. You're not intimidated by his size or his scowl, you don't fawn over him or antagonize him...

And that little grin you're wearing right now seizes his attention and makes a whole garden erupt in his chest. How did it take him so long to figure out how he felt about you? He feels like an idiot for not pulling you into his arms sooner than he did.

Rather than answer you properly, Jotaro grumbles and reaches into his jacket for his cigarettes, a response you understand as reassurance. Still smiling, you speak once more.

"Excited to see your mom?"

That makes the corners of his own lips twist up into a grin. Your journey is at an end and he's returning home, to that monotony he took for granted, as a man. Like a soldier coming back from overseas with the love he found while he was away on that strange, wonderful trip.

"Yeah," he answers. "She'll love you."

He adores watching your cheeks flush from his comment as he pops the end of the cigarette into his mouth. He takes your hand in his and considers his bizarre and lucky fortune. Amidst all that chaos and all that sand, he found you.

You two stay like that for a while, silent and basking in the afterglow of the journey. Jotaro closes his eyes and pulls the brim of his hat down, but your voice breaks his reverie once more, an amused deadpan to your tone.

"I don't think you can smoke on the plane, Jotaro."

He rolls his eyes. Good grief, it's going to be a long flight.

There it is, my first proper ficlet since I was 13. How did I do? Writing tips, comments, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading if you made it this far!

[sharkdenwrites]

Hello, Hello! (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

May I request "Can I call you tonight" w Goro Akechi with a female Reader ?

A/N - oml, sorry this took me so long to get out, I was in China to see my grandparents until today and wrote this is a haze in between naps on my 13 hour flight on the way back. It wasn't what I was originally planning to go with, but I like this version better :3

CAN I CALL YOU TONIGHT - AKECHI x FEM!READER (Request 1)

cw: none rating: G

Akechi was screwed. He really messed up this time.

His finger hovered over your name in his phone. Instantly falling for you was a mistake, a gross miscalculation that had his mind and heart in conflict. He knew it was a bad idea, letting his emotions get the better of him. That didn't change the fact that he had added a little heart to your contact info.

You reminded him of Robin Hood with your pure heart and good intentions.

He felt so bad lying to you.

Previously, before meeting you, he hadn't found a good reason to live. Sure, he was playing Shido's game, but things had only grown more complicated with the development in Sae Niijima's Palace. In that wretched casino, he'd seen the worst of his senior colleague's psyche, the manifestation of her desires led astray. Between that and meeting that bastard Ren Amamiya, he'd begin to question whether what he was doing was actually worth it.

Then you'd bumped into him at his favorite jazz club. You had a gig lined up as a guest singer with Lyn, the usual vocalist. He discovered that you were a vocal student, one of the most promising soprano singers in Tokyo at the moment. He was entranced by your voice, like a songbird with an innocent twinkle in your words.

What was he supposed to do? You were everything he wasn't, what with your flowing ensemble of multilayered skirts and sleeveless blouse. You were even decorated with little hummingbirds, which helped project your picture of freedom and purity. Your hair was done up in a half-up-half-down bun with two hair sticks that twisted around themselves and ended in pearls. Everything about you screamed "good."

He was enamored, but kept his distance that night. Just his luck that you'd run straight into him as he was slinking out of the club.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir! I wasn't watching where I was going, my apologies." You had bowed deeply before meeting his inquisitive gaze, voice ringing sweetly through the empty hallway. Akechi held his breath, expecting you to recognize him and start bothering him for an autograph.

"You're Goro Akechi, right? Fancy meeting you here! What a funny circumstance." Giggling, you had straightened up and offered a hand out in a gesture of goodwill. "I thought a great detective like you would be busy solving Japan's next biggest case, but I'm honored you had time to come to my show!"

"Actually, it really is a funny circumstance. I usually come here on Fridays to wind down after a hard week. I had no idea there'd be a different performer this time!" He turned up the charm, not wanting to let down someone so humble. "I can't say I was disappointed, though!"

There was that laugh again, carrying through the quiet space around the two of you. It sounded like starlight looked, bright yet gentle.

Akechi winked, much like he did for his fangirls, but it felt less disingenuous somehow.

"Who do I owe this pleasure and an amazing performance to?"

You gave him your name. Your last name caught his ear, foreign yet beautiful.

Finch. You certainly lived up to your surname.

"Well, Ms. Finch, that was certainly the most enjoyable evening I've had in a while."

You laughed, melodic and soft, hardly more than a breath, and gave him a stunning smile. Akechi noticed that you had a beauty mark to the right of your lower lip.

"Thank you so much! It was actually my first gig, so I was nervous. Glad I didn't disappoint, though!" You blushed lightly and averted your eyes.

Oh, you were too cute. Akechi could almost forget that he was a criminal with how innocently you smiled at him.

"If I may be so forward, I'd love to get to know you more. Could I be so bold as to ask for your number?" Lord, his heart never fluttered like this before. It was almost like your presence could take away his pain, if just for a moment.

You had agreed in the end, but not before flushing a bright red and stammering out an enthusiastic reply.

Now, here he was, the Detective Prince, reduced to a yearning mess. That interaction had been two nights ago. It was Monday now, which meant that he had failed to work up the nerve to text first for a whole 72 hours. He was pathetic.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and hit sent on the message he had been typing and re-typing for nearly half an hour at this point.

Hello, this is Goro Akechi. Apologies for waiting so long to text you. Would I be able to call you tonight?

If falling in love with you was his biggest mistake, then so be it.

[hermitkat]

Baby It's Cold Outside

Fandom: Sanders sides

Summary: It is the most wonderful time of the year. It isn't easy to get along with your family when the tensions are high. Virgil storms out of the house after getting irritated at the others. He regrets that decision soon after. That's fine, though. He deserves this.

It was cold out here. He regrets coming here instead of just going back to his room. But he was angry. Stressed. Tired. He didn't want to hurt the people he loved just because he couldn't control his emotions.

Realistically he had absolutely overreacted. Everyone was on edge around this time of year. They didn't mean to agitate him. But that didn't stop him from immediately getting irritated and snapping at them.

He was fine. He barely felt the cold anymore. He deserved the pain. After all the things he did. He had no idea how they forgave him. No idea when he had even managed to convince himself that they ever forgave.

It would make a lot more sense if they were just putting up with him to make sure he didn't duck out again. Thomas couldn't function without him. It made sense they would want to keep an eye on him.

And yet. Slowly he had started to believe their words. Their kind smiles. Warm hugs. He knew it didn't make sense. He was anxiety. He was the bad guy. He was horrible. It couldn't be real. But he wasn't logic. It wasn't his job to be right. Just careful.

Careful when it came to Thomas anyway. His own feelings only really mattered when it affected their host as well. He didn't think the imaginary cold of the mindscape could really harm anyone other than the sides.

He was starting to warm up. That wasn't a good sign, was it? When you got so cold you got hot, it was bad. At least he thought so. His mind was slowing down. Getting foggier. He hadn't slept in a while. Hadn't eaten much either. Christmas tended to have that effect on him.

He tried again to sink out. It still didn't work. He had no idea how he had managed to get so lost. By the time he accepted that he should go back he had wandered too far already. He deserved this.

He just hoped that the light sides hadn't realised what he did. He didn't want them wasting their time worrying about something like him. He also didn't want the other dark sides to have anything to do with this. For obvious reasons.

He was getting quite hot now. He knew better than to take off his sweater. Or maybe he should? If he held on to it would it still respawn alongside him? Well, he could also just make a new one when he got back. It would make a quicker death.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

He wasn't sure.

He couldn't find it within himself to care anymore.

[jedi-lothwolf]

June of Doom Day 8: "This is Your last Chance."

Fandom: Spy X Family

Warnings: Torture and major character death

Summary: Twilight is caught by the SSS. While trying to find a way to escape, Loid finds he is running out of options.

    Twilight didn't know how he ended up in some dark shady basement, but he knew that he was in one. What had he been doing before waking up here? His hands were in chains up. The metal cuffs wrapped his wrist harshly. With his hands above his head, he could already feel his fingers starting to go could.

    There was a door across from him. It was a gray, metal door and it was only seven or eight feet away from him. Pulling his body down, Loid tried to see if he could touch the door. When he came to the conclusion it was not possible, he pulled his legs closer to his body.

    As Loid looked around, pieces of what had happened started to fill his mind. Bond and him had been doing a simple mission for his handler. Just grab some Intel and get out. Something had messed up the mission when everything had gone black. Where was Bond? Had he gotten away? Loid hated to admit it, but Bond had become one of his closest friends. Where was his dog?

    Without a way to get the answer to where Bond was without escaping, Loid tried to focus on assessing the room. With the way the door hinges lay, the door opened in. That could be a useful detail for Loid's escape. The room had no windows and was only lit by a small lamp in the corner of the room. Going for the lamp, Loid used his feet to try to move it closer to him.

    When that failed, he decided that he had to remove the chains first. Without anything else, Loid needed to dislocate a bone in his thumb to be able to free himself. Looking at his hands, the spy made the decision to start with his left hand.

    The process of dislocating your thumb in a way to be able to force your hands out of handcuffs, was one Loud knew well. He could visualize the 27 bones that were in his hand. The first CVC joint needed to be dislocated so that he could move the metacarpal out of the way of the cuffs. He knew the exact angle and amount of pressure if took to dislocate the joint. He knew exactly how to relocate the bone and how many times he had pulled this painful trick out of his sleeve.

    It would get easier as time went on and as he did more damage to his joints. However, sometimes damaging himself was the only way to escape. Loid was always careful with went he dislocated his his right thumb. That hand was his shooting hand after all.

    Before he could do anything, Loud heard footsteps in the hall. From the sound of them, the suspect would be about six feet tall and around 180 pounds. They wore slightly healed shoes so likely they were some kind of business shoes.

    When the door opened, it was silent. The light from the hall, hurt Loid's eyes. The man was quiet at first. He walked in and shut the door. As Twilight had expected, the man fit his expected description. He had auburn hair, fair skin, and green eyes. But that wasn't the first thing Loid noticed. The man wore an SSS uniform.

    "Damn it" Loid thought. This couldn't be good.

    "Hello." The man had a deeper voice. "Twilight."

    A chill ran thought Loid's spin. How could he know? How did the SSS learn that he was Twilight.

    "What?" Loid's surprise came easy to him.

    "It is Twilight right?"

    "Who is Twilight?" Loid slipped parts of his own fear into his voice. "Where am I?"

    "Where you are, is of no concern to you. As for who is Twilight, you know the answer."

    "I don't know! Why am I here!?" As they argued, Loid tried to figure out how the SSS had uncovered him. Has they uncovered him as Loid Forger? Where Anya and Yor okay? Bond had been with Loud when he was caught. Where was he? What kind of gun did the agent have and where did he keep it? Loid was confident he could kill him if he could take him by surprise. Where did Yor think he was? Would he be able to get any assistance from WISE?

    It took Twilight a moment to realize he had been so quick to worry about his 'fake' family. He really did care about them. Hopefully, they hadn't been wrapped into his discovery.

    "You are Western spy. You're Organization is WISE, no?"

    "No!"

    "Well then, who are you?" The SSS agent walked towards him, confidently.

    "My name is Leon Thorn." It had been a long time since Twilight had used tears as a way to try to convey innocence.

    "So is that what you go by now a days?"

    "What?" Loid let his voice break. "I'm not a spy!" Tears fell down his face. However, the agent had given him the answer of 'did they know Loid Forger was Twilight?'

    As the agent kneeled, Twilight swept his feet out from under him. Then he lunged forwards. As the enemy grabbed his gun, Loid tried to get it into his hands. As the SSS agent raised the gun, the spy went to kick it away from him.

    The State Security Service was smart enough to send a skilled agent. The green eyed man grabbed his ankle and slammed it into the ground so hard it broke. Suddenly Loid's ankle was bleeding and there was a gun in his rib cage.

    Trying to pull his hands down, Twilight jurked himself forward. The pressure only hurts his wrist as he was slammed back into the dark gray wall.

    "Twilight."

    Loid didn't answer. Instead he just stared at him, hate in his eyes. Yet no amount of hate Loid could have in his eyes would match the storm going on in the agent's. It was like a witch's cauldron.

    "After all this time, you've finally been caught." Jabbing the gun further into Loid's Ribs, he continued to talk. "I didn't believe my colleague when he said he believed he had seen Twilight."

    With every problem Twilight had to face, he found himself wondering about Bond more then anything. "Where is my dog?"

    "Really? That's the first thing you say? How the hell should I know?!"

    Bond had gotten away. Maybe he would go and find Franky? However, it was unlikely. Bond would likely be taken to the pound as a stay where they would call the apartment.

    Twilight didn't answer.

    "Now, Twilight, you can answer my questions or we can do this the hard way. While it may not look like there is much I can do to you in this room, I have a few methods and a few items outside of this room I can bring in."

    Again, Loud stayed silent.

    "This is your last chance." The gun was jammed further into Loid's side. Blood started to seep through his clothes. The pain forced him to have a physical reaction to it. Using his legs, Loid attempted to shove the agent. He was lucky the gun didn't go off. Instead the agent stood and slammed it over his head. "You'll regret that."

    The man turned around and started to walk to the door. "And don't think you'll slip your hands out of those cuffs; they are meant to stop your kind."

    "Let's see if you remain fealty to your country." As he opened the door, he started to yell at someone Loid couldn't see. "Find the damn dog that was with him and figure out who 'Leon Thorn' is!" The door slammed after him. Loid could only hope they would leave Bond alone.

   

    Loid wasn't sure how long it had been. Normally, he was good with time. He lay with his back against the wall. There was little feeling in his hands. All he could feel was they were cold and they hurt. Everything hurt.

    The man feared footsteps in the hall. It had been a long time since he had truly experienced fear. Twilight had been water boarded, burned, starved and beaten. Multiple of his bones had been broken. His WISE pin stabbed into his chest, over his heart. A knife had been drug across his body, creating rivers of blood on his skin. One stab wound in his left hip had gone down to the bone.

    Blood poolled around Twilight. The man was shivering, his breathing was quick. His eyesight was blurry as he looked around the room. Looking at his hands, he tired to pull them to a place where he would be able to hold some injuries. However they were to close to the wall.

    Putting his left arm over his head, Twilight tried to pull his hand down hard enough to dislocate his CVC joint. The force was to much and tears formed in his eyes. The thoughts of death that Loid had tried to avoid broke into his mind as he started to shake worse. The taste of salt unnerved him. As he started to cry, his tears mixed with his blood and got caught in some facial lacerations. After trying to dislocate his thumb for a moment, the man gave up and laid his arm back on the wall.

    As Loid pulled his legs a bit closer to him, the door opened.

    "This is your last chance." The agent spoke harshly. Loid breathed heavily, tears still following from his eyes. Air didn't seem to want to go into his lungs. The pain he felt, was something he learned he could have only imagined. "Tell us the locations of WISE's hideouts or you die."

    Loid stayed silent other than his soft cries.

    "Fine, have it your way."

    Was this it? Dying in some dark room in Ostania? Loid thought about Anya and Yor and Bond. He hoped they would be okay. There was nothing left for him to do. The SSS agent sighed as he pulled out his gun. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to shoot you in a way you'll die quickly."

    "Whats-" Loid coughed. "Your name?" The only tactic that Twilight had left was humanizing himself.

    "Funny."

    "I want to know the name of my executioner." Twilight squeezed out the words.

    "Thomas."

    "Hello Thomas."

    "Hello Twilight."

    "Good job, everything hurts." Loid tried to laugh but ended up quietly whimpering.

    Thomas gave Loid an amused smile. "I know what you are doing. Don't bother."

    "Okay." Loid realized just how badly he was shaking. He was terrified and it wasn't death that scared him. "It's cold."

    "That's the blood loss."

    "I know."

    The man walked over to Loid. "Goodbye Twilight." Loid met Thomas's eyes. He let out a shaky breath as he realized this really was it.

    The dead in Loid's eyes surprised Thomas. He saw the pain, tiredness and worry that must have been around for years. He sighed. "Do you have a name?"

    "Loid."

    "I'll take your dog to a shelter if we find him."

    "Thank you. He-" blood came out of Loid's mouth; "has a tag. My wife and daughter, know nothing."

    "Okay. This really is your last chance." Thomas's voice was lower then it had been. Loid hadn't remembered that while they were enemies, harsh facades could fade.

    "I won't."

     "Then-" placing the gun over the spy's heart, Thomas continued; "Goodbye Loid." Then he shot.

[bixels]

The idea that uni protesters are "elitist ivy-league rich kids larping as revolutionaries" on Twitter and Reddit and even here is so fucking funny to me if you actually know anything about the student bodies at these unis. Take it from someone who's going to one of the biggest private unis in the US, 80% of the peers I know are either from the suburbs or an apartment somewhere in America, children of immigrants, or here on a student visa. I've heard about one-percenter students, but I've never met one in person. Like, don't get me wrong, the institution as a whole is still very privileged and white. I've talked with friends and classmates about feeling weird or dissonant being here and coming from such a different background. But in my art program, I see BIPOC, disabled, queer, lower-income students and faculty trying to deconstruct and tear that down and make space every day. So to take a cursory glance at a crowd of student protesters in coalitions that are led by BIPOC & 1st/2nd-gen immigrant students and HQ'd in ethnic housings and student organizations and say, "ah. children of the elite." Get real.

[snaileer]

Free advertising Part 3

Parts 1 & 2

If one has spent a decent amount of time in an engineering lab, perhaps even been raised above (and in) such a lab, it would come as no surprise that the construction of potentially hazardous items can sometimes be accidental.

Danny’s teachers and classmates evidently do not share this sentiment when he attempts to leave their group to disarm the pipe-bomb in front of them during their field trip to the Gotham railroad museum.

Danny doesn’t get it.

“Once you accidentally make one, you figure out pretty fast how to unmake one,” Danny shrugs in reason, it’s not like it’s hard. Well, it’ll probably be a bit different because it’s not from spare pieces of a microwave but still!

“Microwaves don’t have spare pieces, Danny,” One of the chaperones says. Oh, she must have heard Danny’s mumble.

“Sure they do! Everything has spare pieces if you do it right!” Danny smiles, “Here, watch this!” Danny lunges for the bomb, dodging a reaching arm with practiced expertise.

Once he has his hands on it, he’s pulling his Fenton family goggles from his pocket and the mini toolkit his parents got -made- him for his 12th birthday. Complete with a laser cutter!

Danny uses the magnification of the goggles to get a closer look at the design, holding it up to his face. The timer seems to be a separate connection… hmm.

Danny turns his ear to it, shaking vigorously, but he pauses as shouts sound from behind him sitting criss-cross on the floor.

Except…when he turns around, nothing’s different except the group looking startled and pressing themselves farther against the wall.

“Nightingale!” Damian hisses from the herd, “What are you doing!?!”

Danny tilts his head in confusion, vision tinted slightly green through his goggles, “I’m..deconstructing it??” Danny looks down as he unscrews a few pieces, listening for the disconnection of the timer, “Thought that was obvious,” He grumbles.

Danny pulls his goggles to his forehead to get a better gauge of the wire colors before pulling two of them out. The timer display turns off.

The group seems to sag in relief as the red numbers go dead.

Danny barely notices, looking intently at the object as he turns it in his hands.

Hmmmm.

He flips his goggles back down and reaches blindly for his toolkit. Danny continues unscrewing, grabbing a different screwdriver and his mini weld set, before setting two metal grids to the side and holding it back up.

“See! Spare parts!” He says with a smile.

The green goggle tint prevents him from seeing his chaperone’s face drain of color.

It does not prevent him seeing Batman crash through the window three seconds later.

Tags for those who asked:

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[kentopedia]

“what are you doing?” kento asks, his voice low and raspy—it’s still early, the beams of sunlight dancing across his skin, filtering through the curtain.

“nothing,” you say, your chin propped up on his chest as you trace his jaw softly, taking in every one of his feathers like it’s the last time you’ll ever see them. “i just love you. a whole lot.”

he cracks a small smile, eyes still closed as he breathes slowly. it’s too early for either of you to be awake, but you’d rather spend your few moments before work watching him than the back of your eyelids.

“is that why you’re staring?”

you laugh, pressing your nose deeper into his collarbone. his arm snakes around your waist, fingers delicately brushing the soft skin of your hip. under the covers, he is so warm.

“not entirely,” you say, kissing the side of his neck, the closest part of him you could get your skin on. “you’re just beautiful. it takes my breath away.”

his eye pops open, and you watch the flush of pink start under his skin, spread up his neck.

kento has heard it from you a million time, and he knows he is attractive—how can he not know it? but he still flushes red like it’s the first time he’s ever gotten that kind of compliment, eyes wide in some sort of uncharacteristic bashfulness.

he squeezes your hip and smiles. perhaps he knows, but he has always appreciated the reassurance, the words of affirmation and adoration that you love to shower him in.

“i just hope i’m a man that’s worthy of someone as pretty as you, my love,” he says, and though there is a hint of seriousness there, he is teasing, kissing the top of your head as his other hand laces with yours on his chest.

[wonbokkies]

☆ because, its funny - nishimura riki

pairing: dance captain riki! x dance captain gn! reader!

genre: academic rivals in public, lovers in secret 🤭

word count: 2k :>

synopsis: you and riki bicker a lot, but behind closed doors, more than just teasing smiles are shared.

mi's note🎧: i love niki.

“five, six, seven, eight, and one!”

your stern voice echoed through the room, voicing the counts of the final parts of choreography your team had to learn. the loud, but synchronized screeching of shoes was the only thing being heard in the dance room, your commands added into the mix. 

“eunchae, try to sharpen your moves a lil! it'll make you look even broader, especially when we perform onstage.” the said girl nodded and playfully saluted at you through the mirror, you grinning back at her.

you continued to give feedback and critique to your peers, creating some small talk between yourselves as you slid around.

practice continued, the repeating chorus of jay park’s all i wanna do booming through the schools empty halls. (you swore that you'd never listen to the song the same way again).

your team always practiced hard and never took your critique to heart- which is something you admired about them. being nominated as dance team leader was such an honor, your enthusiasm for the style of art showed every time you performed, whether on stage or alone. this didn’t go unnoticed by the public, you and your team being well known, even among other teams from other schools. but your team wasn’t the only one in decelis high.

suddenly you heard loud knocking and booming voices outside the room, causing all to halt their steps. you sighed once a group of yapping kids barged in, being led along by a tall boy with black hair falling over his eyes, a small smirk plastered on his face.

your team was extremely popular in decelis- but along with your school's second team- which was the loud group that walked in on your precious practice just now.

all led by the cunning senior, nishimura riki.

pausing your playlist, you called a desired “water break!” and made your way to stand in the middle of the room, right in front of the smirking boy. the others scattered behind, watching or chugging their beverage, eyeing the way your face contorted into a frown.

“why knock if you're just gonna come in anyways, nishimura?” crossing your arms you glared straight up at the boy's towering figure, rolling your eyes when he grinned in response. he shrugged.

“what? it's our turn to use the room.” glancing at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “we agreed on 4:30. it's already 4:35.” 

“and your point is? you couldn’t even spare a few minutes, couldn't you?” you asked, annoyance visible in your tone. riki bent down to your height, gradually moving his face closer to yours, your eyebrows furrowing at the sudden close proximity. he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, causing shivers to go down your spine. 

“hmm... nope.” his deep voice traveled through the canal of your ear, causing the brims of them to heat up. you slapped his arm and shoved his face away, disgust displaying on your own. 

“ew w-what the hell?. don’t ever do that again.” you stuttered out, frowning at the boy who was cracking up in front of you. to your dismay, your cheeks were turning the color of the peach sunoo fed you prior this morning.

“what? your reaction is funny.” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark blue jeans, his smirk now turning into a cheeky grin. at this point it's about to haunt you in your sleep forever. 

“whatever, you can have the room. i can't look at you without wanting to commit a crime.” riki chuckled and clapped his hands in delight.

“thanks y/n-shi you're the best!” he sent a thumbs up and a cunning smile, making you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time and curse under your breath. 

“shutup.”

“aye aye captain.” 

“alright guys, since nishimura over here is such a mope, we’ll continue tomorrow!” you called your group together and claimed practice over, getting some relieved sighs and thank yous in return. you too were tired and had planned to end it anyways, until the infuriating boy arrived. 

☆ ★ ☆

“can't go a day without arguing with nishimura, huh?” jo questioned, you and a few others leaning against the school's rusted front gates. 

“i think he likes you.” eunchae mentioned, eyebrows wiggling up and down teasingly. the others immediately agreeing with her.

“pfft, yea right. he just likes making me mad.” you took a chug of your lukewarm water and groaned in dissatisfaction at the temperature.

“because he likes you!” the group yelled synchronized like some sort of harmony. you could only laugh and shake your head, denying their assumptions. the topic soon died down like a flame as you all discussed the upcoming midterm exams, sharing some laughs and complaints here and there as everyone waited for their rides to arrive. 

“you both fight like those married couples on tv. it’s horrendous.” taki, being the last one to leave, said, scrunching his nose and clenching onto the strap of his training bag.

“oh shush. go now, i think your mom is here.” and she was. taki waved you goodbye- of course not without sending a knowing grin getting into his car. you let out the breath you were holding in once the shiny white mercedes-benz was out of sight.

“yikes, that was close.” 

“what was close?” you flinched hard hearing a deep voice behind you, and by instinct, you swung your arm, hitting a firm body and hearing an immediate groan.  whipping your head around and ready to confront whoever was there, you were met with the surprising sight of your boyfriend holding his stomach.

nishimura riki.

“what the hell! you gotta stop doing that!” you said in a hushed tone, slapping him once more as he laughed at you in pain, eyes creasing in amusement (but in pain).

“what? like i said, it’s funny.” you scoffed and scanned his appearance. “but you didn’t have to hit me!” he exclaimed, holding his arm.

“i was gonna say sorry but you deserved it.” you stated and turned around, your back facing him, ignoring his presence purposely. riki held his hands out, attempting to reach for you.

“hey don’t do that! i’m joking baby, im joking!” he tried walking in front of you, only for you to turn the other way around and start walking towards the direction of the exit of the school.

“y/n, stop that. i’m just jokingggg,” riki whined, following you around like a lost puppy. 

“shutup.” you shot back, pretending to act stubborn, knowing that your tall boyfriend craves your touch and hates when you ignore him. your pace increased as you walked down the sidewalk, making riki groan. 

“we just had practice, don’t make me run now,” well now that just encouraged you to start running. straight away, you dashed down the sidewalk towards your neighborhood, letting out a breathy chuckle at the annoyed curses exiting your boyfriend's mouth from behind. 

“hey, wait! y/n, stop running” you cackled at him once more and cut the corners, taking a shortcut that led to the back of your house. looking behind, you cheered when the boy who was once trailing your tail was out of sight. you made one last turn and arrived at your home, entering through the back door and locking it. you ran up the stairs and made your way to your room, giggling at the thought of riki’s lost face. 

but soon, you were snapped out of your thoughts and a loud squeal left your lips as someone pulled you by the arm into your room, closing the door, and in less than a millisecond, you felt yourself getting pinned against the hardwood.

“holy crap- what the- how did you get here?” you said out of breath, holding your hand against your pounding chest. in front of you was riki, caging you between him and the door, one hand holding your shoulder and the other placed next to your head. how cliche !

“did you forget that you gave me an extra key for my birthday?“ he said, rolling his eyes. your mouth formed an O and you mentally facepalmed, mind picturing the silver key you gifted him with your face printed on it. letting out an oops and a shrug, riki shook his head and smiled down at you. 

“why did you make me run you rat. i almost passed out because you're so damn fast.” he complained and you just grinned. 

“because- it's funny.” you mimicked his words and chuckled at the growing pout forming on his lips. 

“i thought you were actually mad at me until I heard you laughing,” you frowned once again. 

“of course i’m not mad. i could never be mad at you.” your tone softened to reassure him. grabbing his arm that was placed against your head, you intertwined your soft fingers with his calloused ones, tugging him towards your bed and taking a seat, him following your actions right next to you.

wrapping your arms around the boy, he sighed in content, engulfing your small body into his and whiffing the calming scent of your perfume. he buried his face into your neck, causing an unconscious smile to grow on your features. 

“riki my prince. what are you thinking of now?” you asked him softly, hands making their way to his soft, black locks. he immediately melted into your touch and let out a whine. 

“i just realized your next performance is a couple dance.” he replied, voice muffled due to his face being shoved in the crook of your neck. you hummed in response and continued to comb your fingers through his hair, helping him relax.

“hush. you know its all a part of dance, there's no need to get jealous” you spoke out gently, hearing him whine.

“but you’re mineee,” he voiced out from your neck, and you couldn't help but giggle.

suddenly standing up from your position, riki frowned at the loss of warmth and contact.

“calm down baby,” you said, slowly moving onto his lap and wrapping your legs around him, immediately clinging onto him like a koala as you tackled him onto your soft sheets.

“there, better?” he nodded and pulled you in closer into his embrace (if that was even possible).

“who knew the captain of the rival decelis dance team would be so clingy?” you teased, causing him to groan, generating vibrations against your neck as you heard a small shutup leave his lips. now it was your turn to smirk. 

“don't act like you're not deeply infatuated with me either. i know you get jealous of my fangirls.” riki said leaving his hiding spot, his deep voice reaching your ears like a sonata.

“whatever. i know you’re mine at the end of the day.” you said, holding his face between your palms, grazing his cheek with the pad of your thumbs. he shivered at the feeling of your cold fingertips against his skin. looking into your star-filled eyes, he smiled. oh, how lucky he was to have you. how endearing you were.

slowly leaning in closer to his face, you started to pepper kisses all over, your tinted lips leaving slight heart shaped marks on his sunkissed features. starting to feel ticklish, riki let out a giggle and squirmed under your hold.

you placed a kiss on his right cheek. one on his left cheek. one on his chin. several on his neck. one on his forehead. one on each of the moles speckled on his pretty face. you made sure to place your lips on every  single piece of his skin, except for his own lips.

because the best is always saved for last, right?

and finally, you smiled down at your entranced boyfriend, his glowing skin adorned with your marks. you catch sight of his adoration-filled eyes gazing straight into your own, before swooping down to place a chaste kiss on his pretty, pretty lips. but before you could pull away, he held the back of your head gently against his and locked his plush pink lips with your burgundy ones, rubbing the hair behind your neck softly.

“and you’re mine too,” he mumbled against your lips, causing you to smile and connect your mouth with his pillowy ones once again. you laughed in your head knowing that tomorrow, none of these loving looks or affectionate touches will be exchanged with each other until the bright, exhausted sun decides to rest. but throughout the teasing, you were both loving each other unconditionally. 

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[spurbleu]

cw. anxiety attack, john price x reader. gentle angst drabble. (venty ig)

‧︎✳︎༚︎‧︎⁎︎°︎

is it possible for something to be hot and cold simultaneously?

sure feels that way- rasps peaking in puffs of acid on the back of his tongue. reeling in its own indecision- burning frigidity. sizzling stove pan, somehow keeping the ice solid in frosty cruelty.

somewhere in between.

that’s where price found himself, now. inbetween. not unfamiliar, but uncomfortable. sticky and suffocating, cant see shit. vignette vision, cloudy edges. the head of his heart thudding in his chest with a ferocity he’s accustomed to- on the field.

but not here. not with you. this couldn’t, shouldn’t, be happening.

clock. desk. rug. bedpost. gun- fuck. shit.

he glances to you. usually the hard lines of your silhouette calm him- solidify your presence and his safety beside it. but tonight, he can’t seem to find where you begin and where it ends. ribbons unfurling where his jagged hands cut it. his own fault, that he is the way he is.

he wants to hold you close but can’t seem to figure out where. you head is there but then it’s not. hallow and rise of your shoulders, lost to the sheets and the dark corners he braved when he was younger (thought his fear has dissipated, seems it’s come back twice as strong).

“focus on the things you can’t see- hear them. feel them.” always so good at comfort, weren’t you, sweet thing.

his breath. your breath. the shifting of the sheets. your mumble. the boiler in the basement. your voice, calling, aimless. here. im here, find me.

“honey?”

lost again. vision was blurred from sleep, and something festering. it feeds on the marrow, and the insomniac in him thought prods how. he feels as though it’s already eaten what it could’ve. how could there be more? how does it still find something to take?

doesn’t answer. instead, it jolts down to his hands. clammy, sheath of sweat burrowing in his life lines that feel to old and young at the same time (he’s conflicted tonight, isn’t he). similar to his hold on a gun, shot a man, shot tw-

a breath.

like when he held your hand for the first time. movies, bad one. you laughed, so it was okay. okay. less clammy, not that you minded. you never did.

“john?”

it’s louder now, he’s almost out. just a little while more now, don’t rock the boat. breathes like he was taught. looks around. counts.

you are not there. you are here. clock. desk. carpet. bedpost. picture frame. clock, your grandmothers. good cook. desk, god how many times have you kissed him there, before sleep- he’d like to kiss you now, if you’re there. are you th-

“john, sweetheart. breathe.”

he does, and even in the dark he sees you. and he’s better. breathing. living. a good man.

“i’m ‘ere dove. just a terror.”

his breath. your breath. the shifting of the sheets. your mumble. the boiler in the basement.

your kiss. hey, im right here. with you. going no where.

he believes you. helps him sleep, believing. holds you closer, as if to punctuate it. focuses on your breath, because it when it expands, it tells him that as long as your alive, he can navigate out of it.

neck deep in mud, the thicket he’s subjected himself to, you’re there. pitch belly sky and dull blade beginnings- yet you still find a way to shine.

clock. desk. carpet. bedpost. you. you. you.

[worldsbiggestnerd101]

“barbie has a good day every day. ken only has a good day if barbie looks at him.” is so onewaybroadcast coded

[petitepatateuwu]

It's way too hot and I am way too tired to do any more efforts, so excuse the critical lack of quality here.

If you didn't know, Cole is my favourite Power Ranger :D

And while I was binge watching Ninjago I had the pleasant surprise to see him physically and mentally traumatized in season 5 😈

And since I'm a huge sucker for angst, my brain immediately thought of developing that idea in order to hurt my beautiful baby boy some more. That and also the fact that my brain immediately looks for logic in the laws of cartoon physics (I really shouldn't do that...)

So I bring you the "Cole is a Ghost Kind-of-Saga". I still have a few more ideas to exploit, notably adressing the ways the other ninjas will help him cope with his new condition :3

And maaaaybeeeee a small comic too 😇

Anyways, I will let my brain rest a bit for now and sleep.

[babygirlwolverine]

sometimes dean feels a burning itch cascading through his chest and running down his arms, his fingers inching towards cas and brushing against the sleeve of his trenchcoat until his fingertips graze over cas’ hand. dean always lets our this tiny little gasp of air, and cas turns to smile warmly at him, but he never asks about it. not until dean’s ready to bring it up. and one time dean does. sharp little gasp of air released into the crook of cas’ neck one evening, dean quietly whispers, “I keep expecting you to disappear… or just not be here at all. the feeling suffocates me until…” dean trails off, but cas tilts his head, pressing his lips to dean’s temple and linking their fingers together as he murmurs, “until you can feel I’m real?” and dean nods before he replies unsteadily, “please stay?” and cas kisses him in response

[soscarlett1twas]

Flight Home

↳ Andrew and Darling make their way back to London. ↳ 664 words

A month and a half. 46 days. That was how long Andrew had been abroad.

For a man who had never left the United Kingdom before, he took to travel quite easily. Darling joked about him being in “vacation mode” quite often, as he exchanged overcoats for tacky button-ups, glasses for contacts, and his usual demeanor of propriety for laxity. Andrew had gone off the deep end for their vacation.

And what a trip it was. The Caribbean, and each island which made it, was beautiful. They had run away and ended up in Wonderland.

But all good things must come to end.

As the plane moved down the runway, Darling shifted their headrest to place their head on it comfortably. They sat in the middle seat, pressed between Andrew, who had the window luxury, and a kind older woman who boarded before them. Andrew had offered his seat, but they declined. The flight home was for them to sleep.

He intended to sleep as well, of course — but island hopping and all the flying which accompanied it did not acquaint him well to airplanes. Only long into a flight, with a stagnant incline and smooth air, could Andrew find himself able to close his eyes for a few hours.

Darling’s hand laced into his, pressing lightly into his palm. He smiled as they closed their eyes, dropping limp into the seat, prepared to rest for the night.

After he whispered ‘goodnight’ and kissed their hand, he turned his attention back to the window. The harsh lights above them morphed to a more appropriate blue, darkening the internal cabin.

He watched the runaway lights as they became quicker and quicker, eventually forming into a singular line as the plane angled itself upwards. The takeoff was smooth, barely a jolt, taking them into the air.

Beating air silenced any other sound as the airport became small beneath them, its surrounding trees becoming shrubs as they furthered the incline.

Jamaica — their final destination, and now their waypoint before home — had their airport on the coast. So water, in its clean, cerulean colors that struck Andrew, a regular viewer of the Thames, as heavenly, quickly exchanged the concrete scenery. He watched it fade beneath them with fondness. London had many things. Clean water was not one of them.

When he turned his attention to the landscape however, his reverie lapped into his throat, making it feel hollow with emotion he couldn’t describe. Constellations of lights painted the ever-distant island, marking exactly where each city was, swaths of dark forests between them. Winding roads around the shoreline were trailed by sparkles, not unlike the runway. Cars moved to a steady pace along them.

And Andrew realized how much he had missed this.

Escaping was what he dreamed of. Still, he clung to it, his eyes holding onto the island as it got smaller, his neck hurting from craning to watch the window. But for all the love he had for him and Darling’s adventures, for all their memories made, it was the familiarity of home that kept him glued to the sight.

As Jamaica departed from his view, he turned to face, back straight, the seat in front of him. Darling’s eyes remained shut.

Andrew squeezed their palm, and their weak return confirmed their fatigue.

He watched them, a sight unable to be taken from him — their lashes against their face, the curve of their lips, the crown of their head — and sunk into his own chair.

He loved their travels. He loved them, peacefully dozing away to whatever dreams. But, finally on track to returning, he could not help but crave the physical location of his life. The one he could confidently say was his, not a “vacation mode” spectacle of his chaste lust for adventure.

Andrew scoffed to himself, shaking his head, his glasses, finally saved from their case, slipping down his nose. Home. What an easy thing to hate. What an essential thing to desire.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

18 & 63 for the trope mashup please! <3

18. Circus AU and 63. Everybody knows, mistaken for a couple ^from the prompt mash ups game!

This is a Cirque du Soleil AU where Norris and Piastri are two trapeze artists who made huge names for themselves in their individual countries. They get paired up for new show, and it involves a really tricky sequence that people are convinced is not possible and has never been done before, let alone by two guys.

They have a couple of near misses on the attempts to nail the trick, and the whole gang is watching carefully from the safety nets. People are biting their nails, and george is totally double checking the insurance papers and trying not to freak out.

Anyway, Oscar hangs upside down on the bar, totally chill. on the platform, Lando shakes the last of his nerves from his fingers. he slides a firm grip down his own bar, the one place that’s been so familiar for so many years, and he takes a breath. It’s beyond conscious thought, it’s just muscle memory, stepping into the air. With faith that the other man will meet him, in that millisecond between complete connection and the plummet.

Hands. It’s all in the hands. Lando's own fingertips moulding to the floor the first time he nailed a handstand, someone else’s careful hands that taught him his first few balances and tucks. The way his hands bled bloody and blistered, until he worked up the requisite strength.

Now, Lando grips the bar steady with both hands. Now, the steady rhythm in the pit of his stomach. Once, three times, four — the pendulum hits the peak of the apex.

Lando jackknifes through the air, and he’s twisting, house lights blurring in his vision.

Oscar waits, hands outstretched.

Then, a firm clasp from a smaller hand. Callouses pressed against his own. Years of practice, leading up to this point of contact.

His body knows before his mind does. The snap of gravity into the right place, when moving object meets opposing force. It’s Oscar’s counter-rhythm that stops him falling, Oscar’s nimble strength that matches his own. The way they do this in silence, carefully cultivated trust. In that moment, their bodies are a marvel of physics.

Below, the cast erupts in whoops and cheers. Lando wants to run around, wants to scream, but in that moment there’s not really an option - he just clasps Oscar’s forearms, and lets himself be swung.

“Well.” Oscar says, wry. “That was easy.”

Lando looks up. “Yeah. Only took fifty four tries.”

Lando can tell Oscar’s trying not to laugh. Oscar's hands stay steady though.

Someone captures the footage and it takes a while to get going, but then they’re doing numbers on socials. Cirque marketing figures this could get momentum and gradually shares more behind the scenes footage of them both: heads bowed together to talk about the tricks, tightening their wrist wraps, dusting chalk off each other, and laughing as they sip their energy drinks. They even get a portmanteau: landoscar.

The final show is obviously a massive hit. Lando and Oscar’s segment ends up being a lyrical interpretation of the life of a papaya or something. It’s Seb Vettel’s show about the lifespan of plants and bees so they’re just rolling with the vision.

When Pride comes around, the two of them step out to get coffee and a snack at their regular spot. The barista waves at them and says: “a year's free coffee for the happy couple! thank you so much for repping queer excellence in the arts.”

And Oscar’s like, “oh, uh. I mean. I am. But we– we’re not…”

Then Lando turns to him. The morning light looks good on Oscar. Oscar who always lends him sports tape, always lets him order lunch first, and always, always leans forward to catch him. In or out of the ring, he is the partner Lando trusts more than anything in the world.

So Lando tugs on Oscar’s hoodie sleeve, and is like: “actually, I’d meant to ask you…”

[front-facing-pokemon]

[obae-me]

Demons and a Plane

The seven brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, and MC, are in the Human Realm, enjoying a lovely vacation. Of course, while Lucifer and Barbatos could drop them off wherever they wished to go, Diavolo has been talking non-stop about the fascinating methods of human travel. So, this time, they're all flying. The human way. Aboard a plane.

Diavolo: Isn't this exciting?! All of us going on a trip together, using classic human transportation!

MC: It's been a while since I've been on a plane! And we're all in this compartment alone together? Must've been expensive.

Barbatos: Not at all, actually. I had someone in the human world who owed me a favor. They were more than happy to acquire these accommodations for us.

Mammon: Hell yeah, this is awesome!

Lucifer: Awesome is not the word I'd use to describe this situation. Everyone, please, for the love of Sin, sit in your seats.

MC: What's wrong, Lucifer? You don't look so good... Don't tell me, you're not afraid of planes, are you?

Lucifer: Please don't misconstrue my aversion to this flying death trap as fear.

Diavolo: *Slyly nods his head towards MC to confirm that, yes, Lucifer is afraid of planes.*

MC: But, rollercoasters in the Devildom are ten times more dangerous than a plane!

Lucifer: Yes, but I can free myself from one of those rides if I need to. There's no way of jumping out of here without garnering too much attention.

MC: Well, can't you just--wait, did you just say you'd jump out of a moving rollercoaster? Lucifer, have you jumped out of a moving rollercoaster?

Lucifer: No comment.

*Every demon besides him simply nods at MC.*

MC: Lucifer, are you kidding me?!

Lucifer: I hate all of you.