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Hangin’ around

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WITNESS THE BABY !

Buoba X.. ( Btw I'm willing to do like kinda(?) Requests of Buoba X doing whatever just send me a reference image lmao. [ "ELO !! Will you get back to writing ?" hehe, soon ! ^^ )

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X | instagram

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🎻Classical Music Artists Shu Sakamaki has mentioned🎻

This is a list of Classical Music Artists that Shu Sakamaki has mentioned before~!

🎻 Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” mentioned in his short story of the night before the wedding

🎻 Brahms mentioned in his first tweet

🎻 Vivaldi “Summer” from his “Four seasons” Mentioned in an interview from otomate magazine 11

🎻 Rachimaninoff mentioned in a Cd Drama “Trick or Treat” And in his Manga “More Blood” Prequel 

🎻 Starvinsky metioned in his Manga HDB Prequel and in his Dark 3 from HDB 

🎻 Bach mentioned in his 24h Cd Drama

🎻 Claude Debussy’s Suite Bergamasque No. 3 “Clair de Lune” mentioned in his Bloody Bouquet

🎻 Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” mentioned in one his Tweets

🎻 Wagner’s “Wedding March” mentioned in one of his Tweets

🎻 Mahler’s Symphony No.4 in G major mentioned in his Poll SS Story

🎻 Chopin’s Nocturne Op.9 where he played it in his route in Lost Eden-Maniac Prologue

🎻 Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise where he played it in his Route in Lunatic Parade Chapter 3 (There has been no translation of this chapter yet)

🎻 Brahms’s Hungarian Dance No. 5 he was listening to it and let you hear it with his earphones in his First CD Drama Vol.6

🎻 Bach’s Christmas Oratorio he lets you hear it in his Sleeping vampire

If I forgot to mention any other classical music artist he may have mention then please tell me ;;w;;/ and where it was mentioned ;;w;;/ I have updated this list like a billion times ;w; 

*Thank you @jakarcv SO MUCH for your help QWQ You’re my savior TTWTT

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LAITO SAKAMAKI CHARACTER ANALYSIS

• by rosaryui!!

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feel it creeping in 🎃🐈‍⬛🍂🍁

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modern batfam is so fcking funny to me wdym dick grayson (27) would be born on 1998, cass (25) 2000s, and then jason todd (21) is fcking 2004 (my age??)... and tim drake (17) is 2008?????

DAMIAN WAYNE (15) IS 2010. THAT'S SO WEIRD

this is like rough estimations btw its just so weird

like wdym modern bruce wayne is the same year my mother was born.

they're all unhinged fcking gen z mfers holy fuck

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Hey, so imagine Jason with a reader whose parents are simply the most loving beings in the universe, like R's father taught him basic things that neither Bruce nor his biological father could (like how to fix a broken sink, how to assemble a cabinet and even love advice) and R's mother was practically like a mother to him (visiting them regularly even when her daughter is not home, bringing soup when they know he is sick and helping him choose Valentine's Day gifts for the reader).

This may be the cutest prompt I've ever received. I love soft Jason soooo much!! (I fear I am not out of my obsession stage yet.)

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Jason Todd obviously grew up with few to no parental guidance and when he got it, it was more often than not negative like manipulation and abuse or neglect.

So, when he meets his girlfriend's parents he's understandably extremely nervous. From what you've told him, they're sweet. But he knows perception can change quickly and let's be real, he's not the good, kind-hearted person anyone would want for their daughter, in his opinion.

That said, when he does meet them for the first time and your mom envelopes him in the biggest hug he's received aside from you (a chronic cuddler, which he's come to appreciate.) he's a little stunned for the moment. It takes him a minute to even remember how to speak to introduce himself.

This man, all 6'2 and 240 pounds of him, actually seems shy for a moment, trying to make a good impression. You find it adorable when his cheeks blush after your mom compliments him on all the nice things you've told them about him. He didn't even know you bragged about him to people, let alone the extent of it. Like yeah, sure, you showered him in affection all the time, but that was at his apartment or yours.

The fact that you had actually mentioned him often enough that they knew about some of his quirks— his disdain for fish because Bruce made him eat it all the time as a kid at fancy events until he couldn't stand it anymore and his desire to meet for dinner not lunch since he had an obscure sleep schedule because of his "job" was astounding to him.

Even though they couldn't know what it was, you still boasted about how he was very passionate about it and you were proud of him for how hard he worked. That, admittedly, made him blush a little harder.

"She says you've got late hours, I hope dinner won't interfere," your mom would tell him considerately.

He shook his head. "No ma'am. I don't work until later."

She beamed. "Well good, then, because we've been dying to meet you."

Even the things about him that he assumed most parents wouldn't be thrilled to hear about, yours didn't seem to mind.

"You grew up in crime Alley, right?" Your father was questioned, in between the salad and entree.

Jason swallowed. There it was, he assumed. The disapproval he was anticipating. "Yes, I did," he replied, nodding.

"It's a difficult area to grow up in," your father noted. "A very close friend of mine was born over there. He's as tough as they come. Very resilient and reliable."

Jason was taken by surprise. "Uh- yeah, yes. I suppose you learn to be loyal when you don't have many people to trust." He internally cursed himself for saying that. It was too dark and pessimistic.

"An admirable quality," your mother said sincerely as you squeezed his hand under the table. "It must have also exposed you to a lot of different types of people and given you a very broad outlook on life."

He just nodded, swallowing some of his water.

Your father had similarly commented that he seemed to have a great work ethic, which Jason clearly appreciated and considered important. Your dad also, at the end of dinner, when you were out of ear range, made a quiet remark to Jason about how he seemed to make you very happy and that's all he ever wanted for his daughter. Jason had been expecting shovel talk or threats. At the very least, judgemental stares, the way he was used to, but instead your parents were absolutely lovely.

And it very clearly wasn't some temporary ruse, either, like he thought it might have been. They really were good people, just like you. When you moved in with him, your parents helped the two of you pack your old apartment and unpack in his. Your mom even insisted on cooking dinner since the two of you were exhausted from all the moving. He would never say no to her cooking, since aside from Alfred's, it was the best he'd ever had.

It was only a few weeks later, in the middle of summer, when your air conditioner broke down. It was Gotham, so obviously it was hot as hell. And of course no one was reliable when it came to actually coming to fix it. Your father, however, was used to fixing things and came over when you casually mentioned it to him after it was broken for a week or two.

He was about halfway through with it when Jason came home and he immediately felt bad just letting him, so your dad pointed towards some tool and asked him for some help.

"I don't really know how to fix an AC. Vehicles are more my thing," he confessed, lifting a wrench to his hand.

Your dad shrugged. "Not that hard. I'll show you."

Jason glanced at where you were sitting at the table with a glass of lemonade, giving him a light shrug. "Okay, sure," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves.

Jason liked to think the two of you had a pretty solid relationship, as far as honesty and commitment went. He loved you, he was almost positive by the time you'd been dating 15 months that he wanted to marry you.

But you still, occasionally, fought the way all couples did. And when you did, it was usually because he struggled to keep plans or left you waiting up for him, only to come home desperately needing stitches.

The worst it ever got was when he deliberately lied to you, swearing he'd stay out of something dangerous and going straight into danger the second he could. Even though nothing that bad actually happened, you were more than a little angry. In fact, during the screaming match you had, he could swear he saw the exact moment your heart broke when you told him you thought he cared more about being Red Hood than he did about you.

You left for hours. Four of them.

And when he heard a knock at the door, he was hopeful it was you, having forgot your keys. Instead, it was your mom. His heart dropped, wondering what she was doing there—planning to yell at him for how he treated you, grabbing some things for you so you could stay away for several days, breaking up with him on your behalf.

All she did was invite herself in, making some coffee (just the way she knew he liked it) and sitting on the couch with him. He was confused and silent, until she spoke up.

"She's not saying what the fight was about," she told him. "I assume it's your work. The uh-... nightly aspect of it?"

He blinked a little. Something about her tone was more suggestive than he liked. "It- partially, yeah," he admitted. "I didn't mean to break my promise."

She nodded. "I know," she muttered. "And I don't think she's mad, just...scared. She doesn't want to lose you."

"She won't," Jason replied instantly.

Your mom's lips quirked into a small smile. "Then tell her that," she suggested, adding that: "Trust is fragile. It takes a long time to build it and a single action can shatter it." She patted his knee, standing up and he stood too, walking her to the door.

"Why do I have a feeling you know what the fight was about, even without her telling you?" He asked quietly if not with some suspicion.

"You're a very good man, Jason," she told him. "But it doesn't take a genius to know why those hours you work are so obscure." Before he could question or deny what he felt she already knew, she was giving him a small kiss on the cheek, the way she often did to greet and say goodbye. "Call her," she said. "I'll make sure she picks up."

So he did. And you did answer, like she promised.

You made up, like always and it wasn't even six months later that he was calling your parents, asking for blessing to propose to you. Of course they said yes and we're thrilled to do so. Your mom even helped him pick out the ring. Which took hours, half because he couldn't decide and half because she kept starting to cry.

When he finally did find the right one, she naturally helped him plan the proposal, too. He wasn't always the greatest at romantic gestures. At least not grand ones. He was always better at the subtle shows of affection—remembering dates and details or taking care of you when you're sick. He doesn't want to do anything overwhelming, but filling the apartment with twinkling lights and telling you—with several tears in his eyes—how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, is plenty for you.

"Yes?" He repeats, almost in disbelief that you'd agreed so quickly to marry him.

"Yes, yes, obviously," you repeated, sniffling to keep from crying as you gave him your hand, letting him slip the ring on your finger.

His arms immediately enveloped you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around like you weighed nothing. Setting you down, his lips found yours for a deep, long kiss, before pressing his forehead against yours and nuzzling your nose.

"I love you so much," he repeated, even though he'd said it three times already.

He already saw plenty of your parents, at least four or five times a month, but it seems like he sees them nearly everyday when the wedding planning starts. Your mom is more concerned with invitations and linens or vows while your dad really just shows up for cake tasting, or trying the catering companies. Not to mention to judge and criticize the venue options.

Still, they're there more than his own father figure is, sort of like they have been since he met them. They're there on your wedding day, crying in the front row when he uses his love of literature to craft was perhaps the most beautiful wedding vows ever recorded. They're there to take care of your apartment when you're on your honeymoon, coming to water the plants and collect the mail, not to mention stock the fridge before you get back.

They're there for your birthday and his, as well as Thanksgiving and Christmas. They're there to help prepare for the baby when you eventually have kids, your mom by soothing Jason's nerves and your dad by helping him paint the nursery or assemble furniture. They're there after the baby is born and visit whenever you need a babysitter for a few hours or even days to spend time together.

They're there, he realizes. They're there and he loves that, not just for you or for the baby, but for himself too. For the little kid inside him that never fully felt like any adults around him truly had his best interests at heart.

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A train ride in Kyoto

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Little Johnny is such a dog coded boyfriend.

Cup his face, squish his cheeks, ruffle his hair. He loves it all. The biggest, dopiest smile is on his face as he looks up at you.

He greets you with the most bone-crushing hugs. You have to coax him into letting up on you. He gets the saddest puppy dog eyes when he thinks he’s hurt you. Reassure him and he goes back to excitable once more.

When he comes back exhausted after a mission, he collapses onto you to take a nap, nuzzling into your warmth. You are subjected to his full weight while Big Johnny also snuggles up to you. Both of them snore like crazy. You’re not getting up anytime soon so might as well join in the sleep fest.

He’ll describe his day to you, and it’s so easy to imagine a tail eagerly wagging behind him. His eyes light up with every word he tells you. And he’s so eager to tell you he loves you a thousand times over because he loves so strongly.

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Thinking about you being Clark’s and Bruce’s sugar baby at the same time…

It starts with the nails. Obviously. Almond-shaped, chrome-dipped, tiny crystals lined at the base because “you deserve a little sparkle,” as Clark put it when he slipped his card into your hand and told you not to check the limit. (There wasn’t one.)

Bruce had already pre-paid the salon, of course he did. He told them to add a massage and a glass of rosé while you waited for your toes to dry. You didn’t even need to ask. Just showed up and said your name, and they treated you like royalty.

Because you are.

“Hi, princess,” Bruce texted the second your appointment ended. “Your stylist left a few things at the penthouse. Try the lavender one first.”

You’d barely stepped through the door when you saw the garment bags lined up like a boutique display. Shoes too: delicate, glittery, designer. There were two new perfume bottles sitting on the vanity and a note in Clark’s handwriting that said, “This one made me think of you. Sweet, soft, and a little dangerous.”

You didn’t lift a finger. Just twirled in the mirror, robe slipping off one shoulder, admiring your nails and your reflection and your very spoiled life.

Then they came home.

Clark kissed you first, scooped you up off the bed like you weighed nothing and spun you around in a way that made you giggle and scold him for messing up your hair. Bruce followed behind, jacket off, sleeves rolled, eyes all heat.

“Look at our girl,” Bruce murmured, pulling you in for a kiss at your temple. “You look like you belong on silk sheets.”

“She belongs in our hands,” Clark added, voice low as he set you down on the bed.

Which brings you here: flat on your back, legs parted, robe bunched around your waist. Clark’s head between your thighs. Bruce beside you, murmuring filth into your ear like it’s a prayer.

“You’re so soft,” Clark says between kisses. “So sweet like this, doll.”

“Our perfect little princess,” Bruce hums. “You like it when we take care of you, don’t you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Clark’s mouth is too good, his hands firm around your hips. Your fingers curl into the sheets, showing off your glittery nails—Bruce notices, of course.

“Those hands,” he groans, taking one in his own. “Too pretty to ever work. We’ll take care of you, love. Always.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Clark adds, voice muffled but still warm and so, so full of love. “Just lie there and let us spoil you.”

And you do.

Because when you're theirs. Their baby, their sweetheart, their spoiled little princess.

You don’t need to do a damn thing but smile, sigh, and take it.

masterlist a/n ☆ trying a new format, in some way? this idea has been going around my head as someone who adores doing her nails and adores petnames

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art that I will never finish

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DL radio with Kimura Ryōhei and Maeno Tomoaki (Kou and Kino's VAs) on Aug 9th!!!!!

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Not recognizing Jason as Red Hood

Jason Todd x Reader

CW: Violence and swearing

Summary: You’re saved by Red Hood (your boyfriend) but don’t recognize him, much to Dick’s amusement.

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You hadn’t planned on walking home after your overtime shift, yet misfortune seemed to find you wherever you went. It was late at night and eerily quiet. There weren’t too many people out at the time, which made the man eyeing you down from the corner of an alleyway much more noticeable. Your blood had ran cold the moment you met his eyes. Desperation and a sort of distant look was what you caught from them. Not what you would have liked to see at all.

You swallowed hard and pressed on, hyper focused on the speed at which you walked to the expression you wore on your face. The footsteps that progressed in speed behind you told you that you had ultimately failed in looking like more effort than you were worth, and the gun held at your temple confirmed it.

“I want everything you have on you. Now. I’m not asking.” He spoke lowly yet still with a slight waver to his voice. You felt a hand wrap tightly around your arm that kept you in your place.

Your hands shook as you worked to collect everything in your possession, your nerves lengthening the process slightly. The cold metal pressed harder into your skin as the man began to raise his voice. He fired a warning shot that just barely missed your foot and rang out through the cold alleyway.

“I don’t have all fucking day, hurry the hell up!”

Before you could process it, his hold on you was broken as he was pulled to the floor. You turned to see none other than Red Hood and to your surprise, Nightwing. Although a bit of the fear still lingered, you couldn’t deny that you were completely star struck. Jason gushed over Red Hood each time the vigilante was mentioned (you were more of a Red Robin fan yourself though). You’d definitely have to tell Jason about this later.

You were pulled from your thoughts by a robotic-like voice and a red helmet leveled with your own face.

“I asked if you were okay? You gotta be more careful out here. You could’ve been killed, babe.” He spoke softly, voice dripping with concern. A gloved hand rested on your cheek as he looked at you.

The petname didn’t go unnoticed by you, nor did the affectionate touch. You had assumed he was trying to flirt with you so you decided to try to let him down easy.

“I’m alright, really. I appreciate you saving me but I have a boyfriend so I’d like if you didn’t try to flirt with me.” You lightly swatted his hand from your face with a sweet yet slightly apologetic look on your face.

Red Hood was stunned for a moment and seemed almost hurt. Just behind him you heard a very amused Nightwing fighting back a laugh.

“Yeah Red Hood, no flirting on the job!” He teased as he lightly poked the other vigilante with a baton. Red Hood was quick to grab the baton and snatch it away with a glare. Though he didn’t appreciate his brother’s teasing, he felt a subtle sense of pride in his chest at you speaking up.

“Right, sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s pretty late though, do you need me to walk you home?” He offered almost instantly.

“Well, my apartment’s actually right there so I’m okay.” You answered while rummaging through your bag. “This is kinda embarrassing but could I maybe get an autograph? My boyfriend Jason is a big fan of yours.” You held out a small notepad you used at work along with a pen.

Red Hood was slightly embarrassed but mostly touched at the gesture. He could feel Nightwing’s smug grin radiating beside him as he grabbed the pen and messily signed it. You took the notepad and left with a quick “thank you”.

“Stop fuckin’ laughing.” Jason huffed out halfheartedly.

“You just got rejected by your own girlfriend, how am I supposed to not laugh?” Dick snickered. “I just hope Jason likes the autograph since he’s such a biggg fan.” Dick drawled out, earning an elbow to his ribs.

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I’ve had this idea for a while now and I finally decided to write it down. I was mostly happy with it so I hope you guys like it too. Thank you for reading!