#olympe lamp

[so-me-so]

Design store - Another September www.instagram.com/another_september/

[dozydawn]

Peggy Fleming in Geneva for the World Figure Skating Championships, 1968. Photographed by Jack Garofalo.

[prinscar]

Can we talk about the fact that Paper Luigi swam through the entire sea in Origami King, while Paper Mario needed a boat. Had a rest at someone else's garden (without their permission--listen, hero privilege), and was ready to go. So first, he must have some premium pecs, and second, apparently sea water does not phase him even though he's made of paper. The f--

Plus he seems to have been waiting for us, judging by how smug and unsurprised he acts when we arrive.

Later in the game, Paper Luigi falls through the hole in the center of Peach's castle but comes back unfased on his kart. If you fall through that hole as Paper Mario, you die.

Paper Luigi is a machine. No wonder he was the perfect host for the Chaos Heart, he's a whole new level of chaotic by himself. Or is he experiencing lasting side effects of the chaos heart?

[keepthebeanscool]

npmd headcanons i’m coming up with as i type this also i’m half asleep

richie used to have the craziest magic school bus hyper fixation for like a solid two years

ruth was the kid who just ate random shit all the time like she’s ask to borrow a pencil and when she gave it back it looked like a family of beavers went to town on it

when grace was asked to draw a family portrait in kindergarten she included god like just hanging out in the air above her and her parents

max treated dodgeball like the olympics throughout all of elementary school and he and kyle and jason were the kids that wore basketball shorts in below freezing weather

steph was forced into piano lessons as a kid and did them for like 8 years and her teacher was like 97 years old and his house smelled like mothballs and dust and there was no lighting even though he had like 15 vintage lamps for some reason she hated it so bad

pete has broken the same leg like 5 times he just has one bone that is so susceptible to breaking for absolutely no reason it just does that

grace used to pretend jesus was her imaginary friend she’d sit in the grass at recess and genuinely just talk to the air next to her like it was jesus. which is kind of sad actually

one of richies earliest experiences of gender envy was the main dude from sword art online i forgot his name

steph was one of those girls who like pretended to be a fairy at recess and had like a rivalry with a different fairy kingdom and one time stacy or something betrayed her for the other fairy kingdom because they had their headquarters at a better tree and steph didn’t forgive her for like two years

ruth is super prone to almost drowning. she knows how to swim in theory but she just loves to get into situations near large bodies of water she’s almost drowned so many times

richie has burnt most of the taste buds off on his tongue because he religiously eats warheads and was once dared by ruth to eat as many at once as possible and nearly threw up

pete is an avid roblox player and would never admit it to anyone

max is weirdly good at taking care of fish. he had a beta fish when he was younger and kept it alive for a solid 5 years he didn’t recover for like a year after it died and that event honestly might have contributed to his current behavior it really hit him hard

[krisdreaming]

hello! this is fr my first time requesting for a oneshot. i have this scenario that i CANT get out of my head and i really love how you articulate things so 😁😁😁

basically it is volleyball national match between japan and argentina where reader is a huge oikawa fan but is engaged to osamu. they went to check on atsumu before the game and reader BEGS atsumu to get them a pic with oikawa in which atsumu replies with; " 'samu are you hearing this?!" and osamu goes "theyre my fiancee. believe me, im more pissed than you are." both of the twins are half-jokingly upset that reader is more happy to see oikawa but reader made it clear that they are rooting for japan!

reader ends up getting a pic with oikawa, osamu being the one taking the pic with a scowl on his face.

i just thought it would be funny hehe

Hihi anon, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get to this one ;-; If you're reading this, you should know that it's been in the back of my mind ever since you first sent it. I've always been intending to write it, and I was just waiting for the perfect inspiration. And it finally hit me! It's Olympics time baby.

Pairing: Miya Osamu x gn!reader (but... it's not really the main focus?)

WC: 1k

"What did ya just ask me?" Osamu runs his fingers through his still-wet hair. He just stepped out of the bathroom, and you dropped a bomb on him.

"I said, do you think Atsumu can get me in to meet Oikawa Tooru tomorrow?" You bounce eagerly on the hotel bed.

"Ya do know Oikawa is on the opposite team, right?" Osamu asks slowly, and you flop back onto the bed with a groan.

"Of course, I'm not an idiot! It's just - you know I went to Aoba Johsai. I was a first year when Oikawa was a third year, so obviously I never actually met him, but my friends and I were kind of obsessed with him," You actually giggle. "Just imagine the looks on their faces when I get a photo with him!"

"It's like ya don't know my brother at all," Osamu sighs as he lifts the covers to crawl in bed. You scramble up and scoot in next to him. "Do ya know what it's gonna do to him if ya ask him that?"

"He's a big boy," You say breezily. "I think he can handle it."

Osamu just shakes his head, leaning over to turn off the lamp. "Just make sure he knows it was all your idea," He says pointedly, pulling the blanket up and settling back against his pillows.

"Just think," You sigh, snuggling your cheek against his bicep, "Tomorrow I'm going to meet the Oikawa Tooru."

"Yer already practically related to the Miya Atsumu. Isn't that enough?" He grumbles.

"He's old news," You chuckle, and Osamu huffs what could almost be considered a laugh through his nose.

"Whatever. Just get some sleep. Big day tomorrow." He presses a kiss to your lips. You settle in against his chest, but you aren't feeling very tired at all.

The next morning, Osamu grips your hand tight as you wind your way through the Olympic stadium. It's so full of people and sounds and lights, it almost makes you dizzy. Eventually, you hear Atsumu bellow your and Osamu's names.

"You're here!" He pulls you both into a bone crushing hug. "Ya all ready to cheer for me? I want ta hear ya yelling all the way on the court." He grins.

"Of course!" You say, completely sincere. "You're gonna kill it today, 'Tsumu." You sock him on the arm. He almost turns to go, but you stop him.

"Wait, 'Tsumu!" You say. "I've got a teeny, tiny favor to ask you." He narrows his eyes, and Osamu backs slightly away, as if denying any kind of association with you in this moment.

"What kinda favor?" He asks slowly. Your grin widens.

"Is there any way you can get me in to meet Oikawa Tooru?" You ask, clasping your hands in front of yourself and pasting on your best puppy dog look. Atsumu immediately swings around to glare at Osamu, who throws his hands up in defense.

"Are ya hearin' this?" He almost yells.

"I've been hearin' it for the last 24 hours," Osamu exaggerates drily. "And it wasn't my idea, 'Tsumu! Swear! Ya think I want my fiancée meetin' that pretty boy?"

Atsumu sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Yer lucky I love ya," He finally bites out, and you can't hold back your excited squeak.

"Seriously?! Thanks, 'Tsumu!" You throw your arms around him, and he huffs.

"Guess we gotta hurry," He grumbles, turning on his heel. You grab for Osamu and practically drag him along behind you. Before you know it, you're surrounded with the team Argentina colors.

"Hiya," Atsumu approaches one of the team's managers and gestures to you, "Is Oikawa-san around? Got somebody that'd like to meet him."

"Oh? Someone looking for me?" At the sound of his voice, you turn, suddenly feeling like you're back in high school again, and just a little bit star struck.

"Oikawa-san!" You blurt out, "I was such a huge fan of yours in high school!" You can hear Atsumu feign a gag behind you, but you ignore him.

"No way, really?" Oikawa laughs, delighted. "I don't always get to meet such dedicated fans." He turns and rattles off something in Spanish to someone behind him. She produces a glossy photograph, and he scribbles his signature across it.

"Oh, wow," You gush, carefully gripping the photo so as not to smudge the fresh autograph.

"Hey, you got your phone there? We can get a quick picture." You pull it from your pocket immediately, pulling up the camera with shaky hands. Your friends are going to lose their minds.

"Here," Oikawa hands your phone to the same manager who'd just handed him the photo, and she holds it up, ready to snap the photo. When you turn to pose with him, you catch a glimpse of Osamu, arms crossed over his chest. The frown crinkling his brow is absolutely adorable. Atsumu, meanwhile, is cradling his forehead in his palm.

Oikawa slides his arm around you, the two of you smile, and that quickly, the photo is snapped.

"Thank you so much!" You retrieve your phone. "My friends aren't gonna believe this. This was so great of you, Oikawa-san."

"No problem," He gives his hand a wave, "Can I count on you cheering for me?" He asks, flashing you one of his signature grins. You feel your smile falter.

"Sorry," You say, biting your lip, "That's one thing I can't do."

His eyes dart to the twins, and to your surprise, he barks out a laugh. "Guess I should have expected that! He's a lucky guy to have you cheering for him."

"My future brother-in-law," You explain quickly, feeling Osamu's eyes boring into you. Oikawa laughs again, delighted.

"Don't you worry. I'll give him hell just for you." He winks, and you can't help but laugh at that.

"Thanks again!" You say quickly.

"Anytime," He says amiably, turning back to his team.

The twins descend on you immediately. You proudly display the photo on your phone, but Atsumu reaches for the signed photo in your hand.

"What the hell did ya need ta get his autograph for?" Atsumu grumbles.

"Oi!" Osamu reaches for your phone and peers a little closer at the photo. "Is that his hand on yer hip?"

You link your arms through both of theirs appeasingly, grinning widely. Would you look at that? You've managed to make both Miya twins jealous at once.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Making Love Out of Nothing At All - Nick Bradshaw x Reader

A/N: I've been sitting on this for a month since I left San Diego and now I'm finally doing it. We're calling this an AU fic where Carole's just non-existent and everyone lives happily ever after.

pairing: Nick "Goose" Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: p in v sex (unprotected/no mention of protection - he's a silly goose, ok?), fingering, oral (f receiving), public sex, car sex, goose goes down on you like it's an olympic sport, praise kink, body worship/compliments but no mention of specific appearance really?

word count: 1.3k

minors dni below the cut!

Every time I see you all the rays of the sun are all streaming through the waves in your hair, and every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes like a spotlight.

The dim street lamps illuminated the parking lot of the club in a dusky glow, the cool Pacific breeze licking at your bare legs as you hurried behind your boyfriend to his car, a 1983 Ford Mustang that he’d been saving up for since graduating from the Naval Academy last summer. He had whisked you out of the club so quickly that you were almost certain you spilled the contents of your drink on his best friend, Pete in your hurry out the door, rather than simply handing him the glass as you’d intended. 

Nick turned to face you, his infamous smirk spread across his lips as he placed a hand firmly on your waist, drawing you in closer to him. He leaned his back against his car, easily towering over the convertible’s frame as he stood. At an impressive 6’4, Nick’s body engulfed yours as he pulled you in, ducking his head down to leave hungry kisses in a trail from your jaw to your neck, his hands feverishly roaming over the outside of your dress, finding anyway he could to gain access to what was underneath. 

“Mhmm,” you giggled, shaking your head, “Slow down, baby. You can’t just do it in the middle of a parking lot,” you protested.

“Says who? I don’t see anyone around? Besides, that’s what the car’s for, honey.”

Nick opened the door for you before playfully pushing you on to your back across the backseat. He placed his palms flat against the seat as he hovered himself over you, his lips once again making contact with your skin. A series of hot, open-mouthed kisses peppered your neck and collarbone as his hands palmed at your breasts, grasping them over the fabric of your dress. He grinned as he hummed against your skin, taking delight in the way you squirmed and giggled with every kiss.

“You smell like heaven, you know that? Whatever this new perfume you’re wearing is, I love it.”

“Coco by Chanel,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as your hand guided his face to look at you. 

Leaning up, your lips met his in a tender, yet playful kiss, grinning against his lips as his hands continued to explore your body. His long, slender fingers ran along your leg, brushing against you in a way that made your skin feel like it was on fire, burning with passion at his touch. You took in a sharp breath as he hiked the skirt of your dress up your thighs, the fabric pooling at your waist. His hand slid in between your bodies, brushing his fingertips against the soft, delicate lace of your underwear, that was quickly becoming dampened with arousal.

“Someone’s already worked up, isn’t she?” He said as he flashed you a wicked grin, chuckling to himself at how wet he’d made you without really putting in any effort.

“Shush,” you protested, shaking your head, “I could say the same thing about you.”

Nick grinned as he pulled himself up to his knees, spreading your legs slightly to make room as he hooked a finger into the waistband of your underwear, lazily dragging them down off your leg. He tossed them aside, discarding them somewhere in the front seat before quickly leaning his head down, his tongue flattening as he licked a long, slow strip against your sex, a groan of pleasure catching in his throat as he tasted your arousal. You panted his name, a sigh of ecstasy escaping your lips as his tongue slowly began working at your clit, concentrating on soft, yet precise movements as he encircled the sensitive bud. 

“Tastes so fucking good, honey,” he husked as he lifted his head up slightly, his dark brown eyes looking up at you with a lustful stare as he delved two fingers into your dripping wet heat, curling them slightly to hit your spot. 

“Nick, fuck,” you hissed, your back arching as he effortlessly pumped his fingers into your spot, his tongue lapping at your arousal, “Getting so close.” 

“I know baby, I know, let it go for me,” he encouraged before dipping his mouth back down between your folds, sucking on your clit harshly before running his tongue over it again.

You whimpered as your thighs began to shudder and shake in pleasure, your back arching further as Nick drew you closer to your orgasm. You began moaning out his name over and over, saying it as if it was a spoken prayer as he dragged your orgasm out, his tongue lapping at you, cleaning up the arousal that dripped and threatened to stain the seats beneath you. He grinned up at you as he pulled the neckline of the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath his brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt up to wipe your juices from his mouth. 

“Have I told ya how pretty you look?” He hummed, his fingers tracing circles on your abdomen, admiring you as if he saw you as a work of art.

“No, but I like hearing it.”

“So fucking pretty, honey. Just look at you,” he gestured to you with one hand while the other palmed at his tightening jeans, the denim fabric becoming more and more restricted with his touch, “I’m not done with ya yet though, honey.”

He grunted as he got out of the car, taking you by the hand and marching you around to the hood of the car. After a quick glance around to ensure no one would be able to see, he gently guided his hand across the small of your back, spinning you around before pushing you down over the hood of the car. He shimmied his jeans down off his waist, just enough to free his cock from the strain of his boxers. 

He stroked himself a couple of times for good measure before flicking the fabric of your dress up off of you, lining himself up with your entrance, he pistoned himself into you, causing you to lay your palms flat against the cold, grey metal of the car. He paused to let you adjust before drawing his hips back and thrusting forward again, causing you to choke out a gasp as you felt your walls stretching to allow him to fit. 

“Nick, shit,” you panted, balling your hands into fists as you tried to keep your emotions and feelings in check as he fucked into you. 

“That’s it sweet girl, takin’ me s’good,” he purred, his hips continuing to crash into yours, hands guiding your ass to make contact with his hips with each movement. 

“Fucking, Jesus Christ, baby, I’m so close, right fucking there,” you sputtered, your thoughts becoming cloudy and incoherent with each passing second.

Nick’s controlled movements began to grow sloppier as he drew closer to his orgasm, unable to focus his precision any longer, his rhythmic thrusts devolving into clumsier, yet just as hard, movements. He moaned your name loudly, the syllables ringing out like some sort of sweet melodic praise as your walls clenched around him. You rode your orgasms out together, harmoniously as you both fell apart. His large hands caressed your body, pulling you gently to stand up and lean your body against his. He held you close for a moment, kissing at the nape of your neck breathlessly, his skin hot to the touch and slicked with sweat. 

A laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head, almost in disbelief as he looked at you. 

“God, you’re incredible, you know that? Absolutely fucking incredible,” he purred, stroking your hair as he held you close.

[joannasteez]

crying, laughing, loving, lying - being comfortable is no good

pairing: roman reigns x angel (black oc) warning: this little chapter is all angst and unfortunately barely features angel. but i'm giving backstory!! no other warning besides swearing and talks of divorce. authors note: i love imperfect characters. so yummy. first chapter found here. word count: 1700

roman loves his job. he loves the campus. and he loves his office —which to him, despite seth's modernistic sneering, is wholly traditional—outfitted tirelessly to suit a timeless sense of taste. dark wood furnishings and overly warm lamp lights. deep shelf walls and old brass ceiling fans. the neat clutter of sports paraphernalia surrounding unread midterm papers —which detailed in their own ways and intellectual fashions, the steady rise of sociopolitical tensions of pre-world war-two society through a 1936 olympic games lens — and once looked over defensive plays meant for forthcoming football games. and this here was his little heaven, his peace, but said peace was being tainted. squandered and spat on. because of all the days he'd chosen to settle in at the office on campus versus doing work from home, she, had stopped by to see him this day. to parade around that pitiful frowning in her lips and the beautiful, un-useable ring she'd never bothered to just get rid of.

and he was very specific about not getting it back. about not wanting it back. about her even selling it, if thats what she wanted. since she'd always done what she wanted anyways. what difference would it make if she sold the eighteen karat in exchange for whatever dress or lamp or table caught her eye? roman really couldn't give less than a shit what she exchanged it for, just as long as he'd never have to see it again. because all the memory is stored there, in the all those beautiful cuts of diamond. but then again, as he said to himself, 'amina does what she wants', including showing face when showing face was exactly what he didn't need. 

he seems to be the only tired one in all this. the only struggling survivor, hell the only survivor really. amina's face feening to look written in a perpetual state of guilt which was complete, utter bullshit. but then again disingenuous was her forte. and roman was sure that the divorce lawyer was the happiest they'd ever been. maybe even eating off the money they'd made at the expense of his failed marriage. but who knew. at this point, who fucking knew. 

his glasses give the ring clarity. a shine. making his jaw twitch and his foot shift till his knee jumps. all of which are involuntary. and this burns his core, the very base of his belly, because why does the discomfort take him so wholly?   unsullied and lacking compassion as it travels his skin. 

he can feel her eyes fixing into him. screwing hot over every line and detail of his freckled face as she waits. and oh does roman make her wait. letting the silence drown the room till theres nothing but the whipping spin of the ceiling fan and the warm lamps singing with a buzz.

"are you gonna say something?"

and all he can remember is his bed. the distress of the sheets and the boiling heat in his body. her moaning and then the absolute fright. the guilt as she forced her body away into the wall, the sheets surrounding her, drowning her up to her neck. his fingers cold from the breeze. 

the ring still on her finger. why even keep it on?

something in roman's skin flares. a burning irritation. an anger bought on by the existence of anger itself. because why should he be reduced to something this wild and ill-controlled? why should he be the one suffering, feeining stability. why should a simple ring bother him so much. he was, is, better than this, better than the pity written in her eyes. he hated this. why didn't she just fucking sell the damn ring. 

"hows terry doing?", that name like poison on his tongue. the whole memory of it coming up to dry his throat till he's tasting bits of bile. his fingers flexing as he takes to fingering over the stacks of papers at his desk. "still enjoying my headboard?" 

"don't do that...", amina's eyes averting. guilt, guilt and more guilt. "...don't, don't bring him up like it's on him". 

"oh?". a scoff but a laugh too. disgust and amazement. but he's irritated too. surprised. "is this accountability? are we in the end times finally?" 

she sighs exhausted. "roman". 

"amina", exhausted too but wryly so. to dig into her skin in any way he could. 

and when she takes her beat, which he finds annoyingly dramatic, staring into his eyes with all the sincerity drawn up from her gut to say "i'm sorry", he still can't find the will to care. 

and he tells her as much.

"i. don't. care", pushing the ring with his finger over toward the edge of his desk. the fast motion threatening to knock it off the surface if not for amina snatching it mid drop. "take the ring back. pawn it. sell it. shove it in an envelop and burn it", rising from his seat to take a stack of book at the side of his desk to the deep shelf wall. his body tall and wide and rife with anger. "i don't give a shit. i don't want it". 

he can hear her shifting to get up too. her heels clicking small. cautioned steps. not so far but not too close. and now he's sees that's just been the regular state of affairs for everything concerning them. an arms distance of romance. 

"it belongs to you". 

one of the books tighten in his hand. a hard cover stress ball. "the simple fact, that i keep saying i don't wan't it, and you keep shovin' it in my face, really just lets me know you’re here to twist the knife". he shelves the books impatiently, the slotting of them ending, each, with a thud into the wood. "just give me this one thing. listen to me this one time". 

amina takes her turn to bristle. to advance at him and laugh. mirthless and mocking. 

"you wanted the wedding in the summer, so we planned it for july. you wanted to move back home, so i followed you", each click of her heel harsh against his office floors. straining to creak till it's edging into his skin. "you wanted the bigger house and you didn't want me to work and you didn't want me to hang around certain men. i always listened to you". 

'no', roman thinks. whipping away from the shelf. his ears scorching. "wrong", his pointing finger toughing into his chest. "i didn't want you around terry because he was a dog in fucking heat every time you were near him. and everything was always negotiable. i never forced anything". his blood pumping sharp and wild. "you liked me making decisions. you liked being taken care of. i made shit a playground for you, and you ran it to hell till you got caught". 

"negotiable? really?", amina's voice shrill and wavering. "like its a fucking business deal? well so much for a fucking merger of equals”. the ring clutched in her fist, her balled fingers pushing into his chest as she clicks up to him. no longer an arms length away. "you just knew that you knew what was best all the time". 

and when he refuses to accept her forcibly pushing against his chest, the ring falls. 

"and the one thing i didn't know?", his face a breath away from hers. the warmth of vanilla filling his nose. making his screen cringe and his jaw tighten. "that my wife was getting fucked cervix deep in my bed by terry, every other weekend since the night of our wedding". 

"it wasn't every other weekend". 

he laughs. from his belly and with a soft trembling in his nerves. his body uncomfortable still. bothered by the shake of his own anger. "but it was in my bed, in the sheets i bought".

she sneers. her eyes rolling harsh.

"everything with you is always, i and me". 

"yes amina", his tone patronizing. "because you cheated on me. you never even tried", his head shaking. "im not the villain in this". 

her eyes glisten. welling to threaten the breaking out of tears. 

"i had no voice. no say. no room to make mistakes with you. everything was always handled. i couldn't breathe". 

"why not say something?"

"you wouldn't have listened". 

he scoffs. "you don't know that", walking briskly to his desk. collecting the stacked papers to shuffle them inside the thick leather of a messenger bag. he needs desperately to leave. to come from under the thick air of the room. "because you never considered trying. and thats the one thing you can never say i didn't do. i always tried to make you happy. making things comfortable". 

"being comfortable isn't this good thing you keep making it out to be". 

he was over it. over the heat boiling his skin. over the aching in his chest. the lumping in his throat. the sharp pricks in his eyes. the mindless way his jaw twitched to tighten. and he was over seeing amina. he needed something liquid, strong and relieving. and he had papers to grade, he didn't need this. not now. not ever again. 

"if no one has ever told you before, i need you to know that you are filled with a concerning amount of bullshit". 

amina snatches up the things she came to his office with. being sure to leave the ring. "well look at us being two peas in a pod". 

her heels click out of his office. the silence enveloping him again. his shoulders heavy and his eyes tired, from the lateness of the day and the threat of tears. 

and the ring is still there. still and unmoving. his fingers curling to fist but lacking the heart to pluck it from the floor. 

his phone buzzes. angel's name popping up against the screen. a warmth fighting greatly to overtake him as he opens up an image she's sent, but it fails to do anything worthwhile. the chill in his bones icing over so easily that his nerves feel beholden to deaden with a cooling. 

text message | angel : ready when you are

and the heart to reply is void in him. more piqued that amina had destroyed his mood so much that it'd left him hollow enough to leave you unanswered. and God was the urge there, just not great enough to overcome the anger pushing deep in his skin. 

[handoverthekawaii]

We Go Together | Homelander x You | Chapter 28 [FINAL CHAPTER]

Taglist: @theaudacitytowrite @hom3landr

Secluded from the wailing sirens and panicked screams on the street below, the Analytics Department control room in Vought Tower has fallen eerily silent. Shoulder to shoulder with the rank-and-file techs, Translucent and Lamplighter focus all their attention on the control room’s largest screen, where footage from a U.S. fighter jet is broadcasting live.

The camera jerks around wildly in the high-altitude winds, but Viridi Aurora’s aircraft remains clearly visible in the frame. And Homelander should arrive any second now…

“There he is!” one of the technicians shouts, pointing to a tiny caped figure shooting into frame from below.

Everyone leans in closer as the figure closes distance with the plane. The tension in the room is so thick it could be cut with a blade. Lamplighter grips his lamp staff tightly, knuckles white, and Translucent whispers, “Come on, come on, come on…”

What happens next is difficult to discern from the camera’s grainy feed, but the group sees Homelander hurtle toward the plane at incredible speed. The plane and the Supe collide, but there’s no visible fire or explosion — instead, impossibly, the aircraft seems to slow down and begin rotating horizontally on its axis.

The rotation gets faster until the plane has made a full 360-degree turn, then another. On the third spin, suddenly, the aircraft shoots up and away from where Homelander hovers in midair. As the plane careens out of sight, the truth of the matter becomes clear — America’s hero wound up and threw the craft into the upper atmosphere with all the grace of an Olympic shot putter.

After another beat of silence, Lamplighter shouts, “FUCK YEAH!”

And the room erupts into raucous whoops and cheers, the reality sinking in that the ecoterrorists’ plot has been foiled. The shift boss weeps into a colleague’s arms as Translucent and Lamplighter high-five, then embrace one another in sheer relief. There will be no bio-attack on New York City today.

Meanwhile, thirty-thousand feet above the Atlantic Ocean, a detachment of fighter jets streaks through the sky in pursuit of the out-of-control cargo plane. John threw the aircraft with such force that it should end up in low-Earth orbit, which will buy enough time for the global space powers to determine how best to neutralize its cargo.

But John cares little for the fate of the aircraft right now. Instead, his attention is fully consumed with your limp form held in his arms. The force of the collision appears to have knocked you unconscious, or worse… but John can’t think about that.

He won’t think about that.

Trying not to panic, the Supe lowers his mouth to your ear and says, “Come on, Y/N. Wake up.”

[continued on AO3]

[soranihimawari]

Call Me

Based off this prompt.

Word count: 300+

Rating: OTF [oikawa tooru fluff]

Pairing: timeskip!(retired) Oikawa & YN friend

"You called me," you said to your friend who was sitting on the floor next to his bed. It seemed he had a rough day ever since he was told to give the sport he loved a rest or risk losing whatever is left of the cartilage in his knee. Jumper's knee was a thing you thought couldn’t ruin a promising career in sports, hence why you encourage your friend, now back home due to said injuries over time, to continue playing until it was time to quit.

So here you were, spare key in pocket and all, glancing down at the once proud “Great King.” He’s a bit older now, a few strands of his auburn hair feathering off into grays. The years abroad had been kind to him and his physique. You do check him out every once in a while, today your gaze was a little softer than normal. 

Extending a hand to him, he turns to look at you, debonair smile and all.

"And you really came,” he lightly chuckles as he takes your hand.

You help pull him up to his feet and he breathes a word of thanks. He sits on the edge of the bed patting the space next to him. His hand doesn’t leave yours as you sit next to him.

“Remember when I said I wasn’t going to let an injury get me down?” he asks. There is a nostalgic glint in his chestnut brown eyes. The lamp is dim in his room, the rest of his apartment is dark this time of night.

“Yeah,” you smile and give his hand a squeeze. “And you kept playing–for years. Became one of the greats even if you were half a world away.”

You and him look around the collection of trophies and medals each with a year engraved in them. A few even had Olympic rings stitched on to the chords to hold the medals up. Others had the South American League stitched on them too.

“Proud of you, Oikawa Tooru,” you nudge him with your shoulder. You hear him hum. “Oh, and one more thing.”

You let go of his hand, turn to face him once you stand up with a charming grin on your face. He has a curious look on his face.

“Whenever you call, I’ll come running.”

[jamiesfootball]

A little late words but Good and/or Follow and/or Friend

Good (from a gift fic)

He looked like a man who'd lost a fight against the world. Good thing he had Jan. He snicked the bottle of shampoo open and squeezed it directly onto his friend's head. Jamie jumped like a cat with its tail snatched, squawking the kind of stupid curse words so ridiculous Jan's grandmother would find them quaint. "What's wrong with you? That's cold!" Jan grabbed him by the shoulder to keep him from turning around. "It'll warm up. Now hold still. Half of the car park is matted in your hair."

Follow (from OGYGGIYHNBGL)

He'd originally planned to flip the script: have Jamie be the one who came to Roy's house. As it was, Roy had to be up at 3:30 to make it to Jamie's place to start by 4am. One week, he'd given it. One week, and by then if Jamie was still holding up his end of the bargain, then he could prove himself by being the one to make the sacrifice to trudge out of bed the half hour early. Except by the end of that first week, Jamie had crushed his way through every stupid, insane demand Roy'd thrown his way. He approached extra training like it was an Olympic sport he needed perfect marks in. He ran himself ragged following Roy's orders, lapping the Richmond Green at least a dozen times before the sun had even flicked on. He even found time to go out and buy a head lamp. An idiot could see how hard Jamie was trying. By the time Saturday rolled around - a home match that saw the team in loud celebration while Jamie listed tiredly against the wall of his cubby - Roy struggled to rustle up the heartlessness it would've taken to demand even an extra half-hour out of the kid. So Roy's plan to nab an extra twenty-five minutes of sleep fluttered out of his grasp, and instead he found himself, every four-in-the-fucking-morning, knocking on Jamie's door, ready to pick up his responsibility for another day.

Friend (from a different gift fic)

Jamie’s jaw cracked on a yawn. "Do you think I should dye my hair?" At Dani's confused look, he explained, "Color it. Do you think I should color it?" Dani bit his lip in consideration. "Verde?" "Eh? Hang on, is that green? I'm not going to dye it green, mate. I'd look hideous." "Azul?" "Come on, man. I'm not- hang on, is that blue? Is that blue, like in beaches?" Dani nodded eagerly. "Sí. Blue. To match your eyes." "I'm not dying it blue neither." "Naranja?" His friend smacked his shoulder with sleepy aim. "Don't do this to me. I just woke up." "Rojo?" Jamie paused in rubbing his eyes. He squinted suspiciously at him. "That's your name, isn't it?" Dani beamed at his friend. "Yes."

[gumnut-logic]

“On the surface, Gordon Tracy is a simple man. A sunny smile, always likes a joke, give him a body of water and you can lose him in it.

“Any body of water.

“I once lost him in the bath.

“Though, you could probably relate that back to point number two and the liking a joke thing.

“Yes, Gordon is a simple man.

“On the surface.

“But only on the surface, because really, he is anything but.

“Meeting that smile under those laughing brown eyes and strawberry blond hair, you could be forgiven for thinking he is a joker out to make fun. You could miss the assessing eyes, the grace with which he walks, the hidden tells of experience and trial. You can’t see the scars; you can’t see the knowledge or the training.

“You could shake his hand and share that laugh and not know how many times that hand has reached out to grab another, to offer another chance, to save a life. You’ve never watched it dance across a control panel leagues under the ocean surface in the dark. You’ve never seen it push down on a ribcage to keep a heart beating.

“You’ve never seen it gently cup a handful of seawater to save a tiny fish caught in a drying rock pool.

“If you shared that joke, you would not know its history and how such jokes kept him from the edge during some of his darkest days.

“You could know of his brothers and the billions, of International Rescue, the Olympic Gold Medal, the party scene he played for all of six months in his teens. You may even know of his military career with WASP.

“But you won’t know Gordon.

“Because the laughter and the jokes? They are only his facade, a method to cope, a philosophy to guide his life. They are a reason to laugh rather than cry.

“Underneath there is a man of great feeling, a young mind full of wonder that has been slapped back so many times that now getting back up is the default.

“You could look at him and think ‘a billionaire, what does he have to worry about?’ But really, it only takes one life changing disaster to crush a man. Gordon has faced so many more.

“He has four brothers, a sister and a grandmother all of which it is obvious he cherishes deeply. He has friends and heroes and a growing love that needs nurturing like a flickering flame. But he is ever aware that these things are temporary, that they can be taken away suddenly and irrevocably. He has seen the glassiness of death and faced down the reaper himself.

“So.

“The laughter.

“The dye in the shampoo.

“The pillow in the pool.

“The itching powder on the bath towel.

“The hell let loose on April Fool’s Day every damn year.

“They are but a symptom of the man you are facing, and yet so why you are going to regret what you are doing.”

Virgil blinked and as if on cue, his brother stepped out of the shadows behind Virgil’s tormentor and, with a move Kayo would have applauded, wrenched his arm behind his back, took his knees out from under him and pinned him to the floor. Another blink and the man was restrained and gagged.

A pair of russet brown eyes swam into his vision, dark in the sharp shadows of the harsh lamp light. “Hey, Virg, that was some speech. Who knew you could be so eloquent under pressure.”

“He’s strong. He’s going to kick your ass.”

“Hey, hey, Virgil. I’m Gordon, remember? The joker guy you said was going to save your ass.” There were fingers fiddling with his restraints. “C’mon, we gotta get you out of here. Won’t be long before they discover I escaped.”

“Don’t underestimate my brother. He’s funny, but he’s so much more.”

“In any other circumstances, I’d be lapping this up, but Virgil, we need to get you onto your feet. I’m strong, but not strong enough for your heavy lifting. C’mon, up you get.” He was being pulled up. His body creaked.

“Gordon is going to come. You’re going to regret it.”

“Yes, yes, help me here, Virgil. I did come. I’m here. It is time to go.”

“You’re going to regret it.”

“Okay, arm over my shoulder, we gotta move!” A grunt. “What the hell did they give you?! Some kind of truth serum?”

“You want to know the truth?” Oooh, the world was wobbling. “Gordon can be scary. You’re going to regret it so much.”

“Ah, yeah, you’ve mentioned that, Virgil. Um, you’re going to have to be quiet for a bit. We have to sneak past some bad guys.”

“Bad guys want to hurt Gordon. Can’t let them hurt Gordon. Tried to kick their asses, but I’m not like Gordon or Scott, couldn’t do it. Too many. Now they want to hurt Gordon. Can’t let them hurt him. No, no, can’t...”

“Shit. Virgil, shhh! Just be quiet for a minute, please.”

Quiet. He blinked. Augh, the world was even wobblier. Gordon was coming. Gordon was coming. “Can’t let them hurt Gordon-“ There was suddenly a hand over his mouth. He panicked and struggled. A muffled yell and he found himself falling, the world spinning until his head hit something hard and he saw stars.

The world became only sound from then on. Voices, more yelling, the thud of flesh hitting flesh, a gunshot. Virgil jumped at its sharp crack. Someone swore. A snap that could only be bone. A thud and then silence.

The world began to drift away.

“Virgil?! You with me? C’mon, bro, please.”

A slow blink. Blurry images. “Gordon?”

“Yes. You with me?”

“Knew you would come. Kick their ass.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.” A sigh. “Can you stand?”

Another slow blink. “Don’t mess with my brother, he’ll kick your ass.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe.” Gordon was tugging on his arm, so Virgil tried to stand. Woah. The whole world tipped on its edge and swung him around. “Shit!”

“Sorry, bro, but we gotta move now. You can throw up on my shoes later.” And then he was in motion.

The blurs burred together. He squeezed his face shut and clung to the man holding him, desperate for it all to stop.

Make it stop.

“Not much longer, Virgil, I promise.” It was little more than a whisper.

Another stomach churning drag across a blurry room and suddenly everything went green.

Oh.

Oh.

He knew that green. That smell. Oh, his beautiful ‘bird.

“Sit here.” He was being lowered onto a hard surface. “I’ll be back in a moment.” And Gordon was gone.

Gone.

“Gordon?”

A yell, followed by a scream and a thud. A litany of curses he didn’t know his brother even knew.

“Gordon?”

“It’s okay. I’m here.” Hands on his. “We’re okay, but we need to be fast.” He was pulled up again, his arm wrapped around shoulders and they were moving.

He lost a moment only to find himself sitting in a chair. A familiar chair with a familiar roar building in his bones. “Two.”

“Yeah, Virg, we’re on your ‘bird. Hang tight, because I’m afraid I might have to scratch her paintwork.”

“You wouldn’t do that. We only joke about it.”

“Well, I’m not in a joking mood right now.” The sound that followed that statement cut through the roar.

Her laser. He was using her laser.

He forced his eyes open and yes, he could see the red glow through the blur. “What are you doing?”

“Cutting our way out of here.”

“Where?”

“They stole your ‘bird, Virg. Remember?”

Voices on the edge of his hearing. Yelling. Another gunshot. Men.

It had been a trap and they had been caught and Virgil had been separated from his brother. His little brother. Please don’t hurt his brother. Please!

“It’s okay, we’re escaping. Another five seconds. Hang in there, Virgil.”

But Gordon was strong. He would kick their asses.

Oh god, please don’t hurt him. Please don’t. I tried. I really tried. Not enough. Not enough. Please don’t hurt him.

A loud crash and his body was shoved back into the seat. His head spun again.

His Thunderbird roared. Her rear thrusters kicked in and sung in his bones. His body lifted from the Earth and tore into the sky.

He let out a gasp, the sudden familiarity heart-stopping.

“Thunderbird Five, you there?”

“Gordon! Thank, God. What happened?”

“Brief you shortly. I need to get Virgil to a hospital, but first I want to put some distance between us and the bastards who hurt him. Please advise Wellington that we will be...”

His brother’s voice faded out, taken by the blur and the hissing of blood in his ears.

-o-o-o-

“C’mon, Virgil, I know you’re in there. Time to wake up.”

What?

“Viiiiirgiiiiil.” Gordon. It was Gordon and he was singing his name.

Ugh.

He shoved his eyes open and glared at his brother. “What?!”

“Ooh, welcome back to the land of the living. Nice entrance.”

“Gordon, what the hell? Let me sleep.”

“Nope.” His lips popped on the ‘p’.

Virgil’s eyes closed a moment and it took him a second to realise they had. He shoved them open again.

Ceiling tiles.

He was in hospital.

“Why am I in hospital?” He searched his slowly booting brain, but found no recollection of injury other than...

He sat up in bed. “It was a trap! They stole my-“ And the world caught up with him and whacked him around the head.

Two sets of hands caught him as he fell back towards the pillow. “Shit.”

“Take it easy, Virgil, you’ve been through quite a bit.”

His body sunk into the bed. Scott. Thank god. So happy to hear his brother’s voice.

He frowned. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“Callout. Central Texas. Gas explosion. No fly zone. It was a trap. Nabbed me. Nabbed Gordon. Wanted Two...” He frowned. “Gets fuzzy. A fight. I lost?”

“We think so. You have quite a lot of bruising, a couple of cracked ribs and two head injuries.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, and you also had a bloodstream full of some nasty chemicals. They drugged you pretty bad. Took the doctors some time to identify with exactly what. You’ve been mostly out of it for a couple of days.”

“Days?!”

“You were unconscious for most of it.”

A frown. “Most of it?” He didn’t remember any of it.

“Yeah.”

He eyed his eldest brother and was somewhat unnerved by the fact he wasn’t keeping eye contact. “What did I do?”

“Nothing of importance.”

“Like what?”

“There was some delirium. Look, Virg, you were ill. Don’t worry about it.”

He stared at his brother a moment longer. Perhaps not knowing was a good thing, but then...perhaps he could third degree his brother later when he had more stamina.

“How did we get out?”

Scott nodded in Gordon’s direction. “Gordon got you out. Five couldn’t find you. They had tech enough to baffle our sensors.” And it was obvious that Scott hated that with a passion.

Virgil turned to his younger brother. “You got us out? How?”

“Oh, with my wily skillz and sense of humour.” Gordon grinned at him.

Virgil’s lips thinned. “Does that mean you’re not going to tell me, or that I should nag you until you do?”

“Have at it, big bro, and we’ll see how it slides.”

Augh. He so did not have the energy for this. “Gordon!”

“Yessssh, Massster?”

He closed his eyes and grit his teeth. “Fine. We will discuss it later.”

“Cool. I’ll bring snacks.”

A sigh and he opened his eyes to assess his little brother. “You okay?”

“Yep, just fine and dandy. You’re the one sporting all the bruises this time, bro. You’re the one who will have to be nagged to rest regularly, eat regularly and get tortured by Grandma’s home cooking.”

Virgil stared at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yepper doodles.”

“What?!”

“Virg, don’t you worry your little head about it. Just rest and take it easy.” A hand landed on his arm and squeezed gently.

He was still staring. “Scott, did he get checked over?”

“He’s fine, Virgil. Stop worrying.” A sigh. “He’s just being Gordon...and if he doesn’t stop, I’m going to kick his ass.”

Kick his ass.

Virgil blinked. “You got us out of there.”

“That I did.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, bro.” A grin split his little brother’s face, but something flickered in the depths of his eyes for just a second. Virgil frowned, but it was gone too quickly. Gordon’s grin took over everything.

“Anytime.”

-o-o-o-

[so-me-so]

Design store - Another September www.instagram.com/another_september/

[wowowwild]

Sick Days

I’ll attach a link here when ao3 is back up

Klavier is sick and Apollo takes care of him. klapollo week 2023 day 3: domestcity

P.S. if you don’t know german that’s ok bc you’ll just be POV: Apollo.

Apollo awoke to the sound of violent retching next to him. He jolted into a sitting position and flicked on the lamp. Klavier looked pretty pathetic, covered in vomit, eyes watering. Poor guy.

“Was that all of it?” Klavier whipped his head around and winced. “Ja. Tut mir leid…” “Hey, shh, don’t worry about it. Let’s get all of this off you, yeah?”

Klav nodded so Apollo set about rolling the sheets and blankets away from him, then took off his tank top. His sleep shorts were clean but also came off and were used to wipe down his torso.

“Come lay down on my side of the bed, I’ll run you a bath.” “Es tut mir leid. Danke sehr.” “Just rest for a minute.”

The first time he had seen the tub he had joked about it being a normal size and not an olympic swimming pool, but now he was thankful he only had so much tub he had to fill up. He tested the temperature to make sure it wasn’t too hot or too cold and adjusted it a couple times until it was at the right height.

“Alright, big guy, let’s get you in the tub.”

Apollo felt bad he had to jerk Klavier around a bit to get him into a position conducive to being picked up, but the guy looked so out of it, Apollo doubted he even noticed. He placed him gently down into the water.

“How’s the temperature?” “Sehr, gut, mein Häschen.” “I’m going to get you something to eat and drink, I’ll be right back, ok?” “Ja, bis gleich, Schatz.”

Apollo found a bottle of apple juice in the fridge and some club crackers in the pantry that would be easy enough to get down. As he made his way back into the room he could hear quiet sobs coming from the en suite.

“Klav? Hey, what’s wrong?” He rushed in and knelt next to the tub. “Herzchen!” Klavier threw his arms around Apollo, soaking him in the process. “I’m here. I just went to get you something to eat and drink, remember?” “Ja. Ich habe das vergessen.” “I don’t speak German, baby.” “Vas? Ich bin- Oh.” He giggled. “Verzeihung, Hübscher. I didn’t realize.” “That’s ok. Do you think you can try drinking and eating a little?” “Anything for mein Sonnenscheinchen.” “Ok, I have to go clean up a bit, will you be ok? I can keep talking to you, I’ll just be in the other room.” “Ok. I will be fine.” Apollo kissed him on the forehead, it was quite warm. “Once I finish I’ll get you some medicine.” Klavier made a face. “It tastes bad.” “But it’s good for you.” “Hmm…” “Could you do it for me?” “... For you.”

Back in the bedroom, Apollo began stripping the bed. It wasn’t particularly ‘juicy’, eugh, so the mattress wasn’t damp at least. Apparently Klavier was a good chewer, though, because he didn’t recognize dinner at all. Gross.

“Apollo?” Klavier sounded nervous, calling from the tub. “Yeah, Klav?” “Will you sing to me?” “I can do that. Any requests?” “Nein. Anything you would like.” He sounded more relaxed now that his request had been confirmed.

Apollo began with The Guitar’s Serenade, followed by a Khura’inese song he liked and then whatever came to mind. Four songs and he had finished the bed.

“How are you doing?” “Sehr gut, mein Liebster.” “Ready for your medicine?” Apollo entered the bathroom. Klavier made a face again. “Do I have to?” “Yes.” “Can I have ice cream?” “I don’t know if it will sit in your stomach well.” “Ok…” He looked so downtrodden, and as much as he was loath to admit it, Apollo would always give in to that face. “Well… maybe a little.” “Really?!” “But just a little, I mean it. How many of your crackers have you eaten?” “Five.” “Good job, Klav. I’m going to get everything and then I’ll help you wash up, ok?” “Ok.”

On his way out of the room he took the sheets and blankets to throw into the laundry room, attracting the attention of Mikeko and Vongole who tended to sleep in there. It was the warmest room in the house which appealed to Mikeko and ever since the two had become best friends, Vongole was rarely where the cat was not

“Hey guys. Sorry I can’t play right now,” he chatted as they followed him to the kitchen. “I’d send you in to keep Klav company, but he’ll definitely try to pull you into the tub to sit with him and I am not dealing with that at…” He squinted at the clock on the stove, “3 AM.”

He put a little vanilla ice cream in a bowl and hoped very much he wouldn’t be seeing it again. He also got the thermometer and some cold medicine that should get Klavier back to sleep. He should have figured something was up when Klav was tired at 9. That was early for him.

“Hey, Klav, I’m back.” “Ice cream?” “After the medicine. How is the bath water? It hasn’t cooled down too much?” “Nein. It is very nice.” Apollo tested it himself. It was still warm at least, but not as warm as it could be. “Alright, are you ready for your medicine?” Klavier sighed. “If I must…” “You must.”

Apollo measured out the right amount and Klavier opened his mouth. He made a face at the bitter taste, but swallowed it without any further complaints.

“Good job, babe. Here’s your treat.” Klavier took the bowl and looked at it for a moment. “Can you feed it to me?” “... Ok.”

Klavier really needed to be cleaned up before the water went cold, but he truly asked for so little, Apollo would probably never have the heart to say ‘no’. Usually he gave and gave, wanting nothing in return but Apollo’s presence, so of course when he asked for such a little thing he would do it. There wasn’t much anyway.

“Open up, darling.” Klavier grinned like he had won something. “What are you smiling about?” “You almost never use pet names. It feels special when you do.” “Oh, well…” Apollo could tell he was blushing. He’d use pet names more but he felt so awkward doing it. It didn’t come naturally to him like it did Klavier. A ‘babe’ or two might slip out from time to time, but mostly it was just ‘Klav’. He preferred to show his feelings in other ways. “You’re thinking too hard. Feed me my ice cream.” Apollo feigned offence. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you have any after all. You know, dairy isn’t great on the stomach when your sick…” Klavier was pouting again. “You said I could…” He whined. “I know, babe. Of course you can have it.”

Apollo scooped out a little and Klavier opened his mouth expectantly. He was really cute. Apollo figured he’d have to come up with an excuse to feed him again sometime when follow up kisses wouldn’t knock him on his ass with repercussions.

“How was that?” “No more?” “No more. I told you only a little. I wasn’t kidding about it not sitting in your stomach well. We have to get you cleaned up now, anyways. Before the water gets cold.” “Ok… Danke, Schatz. I know you spoil me.” “W-well I don’t really. No more than you deserve. Can you pass me the washcloth and soap?”

With an expert redirect, Apollo got to scrubbing his boyfriend down, as gently but efficiently as possible. He put ‘take a bath together’ on his list of things to do with Klavier. They’d showered, but a bath… Well he didn’t have time to think about that just then.

“How’s your hair? Does it need washing?” “Nein. I want to cuddle.”

Apollo took a once over of Klavier’s head and determined it was in fact fine and free of vomit. Klavier frowned at him, probably noting that his boyfriend clearly did not believe him. Apollo could live with that.

“I’m going to drain the tub now. I’ll grab you some pajamas, ok?” “Ok...” “When I get back we’ll dry you off and you can get dressed. Then we’ll cuddle. You’re doing such a good job.”

Klavier’s now deep frown lifted at the confirmation and compliment. He really was easy to please like this, but also easy to set off, so Apollo hurried to find suitable sleep wear and return. Apollo threw one towel over the toilet lid and put another on the counter beside the sink.

“Do you think you can stand if I help you?” “Ja. I can do anything if I put my mind to it, Herr Forehead, so jot that down.”

Apollo recognized this as something Klavier would absolutely say in a flirty tone with a wink but was currently stating so matter-of-factly he began psycho-analyzing the guy. No time for that, Justice! Your sopping wet boyfriend needs a towel and at least eight hours of sleep, stat. He squatted down, figuring Klavier would need more support than he let on.

“Are you ready?” “I was born ready.” “For this exact situation?” Apollo couldn’t help himself. “Ja. Oma predicted it, she told me. She said, ‘Klavier, one day you will face great challenges and you will overcome them, I am sure.’” “And this is one of the great challenges she was referring to?” “Natürlich.” “Right. On three?” Apollo secured his hands on Klavier’s ribs just below his armpits. Klavier nodded and grabbed Apollo’s shoulders while bracing his legs. “Ja.” “One, two, three!”

Klavier did get up with little difficulty but was immediately leaning on Apollo.

“Can you step out? One foot at a time.”

Apollo felt Klavier nod and then watched as one foot then the other set down on the mat.

“There you are,” Apollo’s voice was soft as he checked his boyfriend’s face for discomfort. “Let’s sit you down and I can dry you off.” “Danke, Häschen. It is chilly out here.” “Let’s fix you up quick then, yeah?” Apollo lowered him onto the preplaced towel over the toilet and grabbed the one he had left nearby. “How are you doing?” “Sehr gut. Mein freund is looking after me so well everyone else should be jealous.” “I think I’m the one they’re jealous of, Klav.” “Was zur Hölle? That’s ridiculous.”

Apollo knew that one. Klavier didn’t swear often, he was rarely upset enough to ‘warrant’ it as he claimed, but ‘what the hell’ had come up in a couple of the most convoluted investigations. Apollo tried and failed to suppress the laughter sparked by his incredulous rock star boyfriend, that the general populace might think being with a rock star was cooler than being with some guy who talked loud, but they’d had that argument before resulting in no clear winner, despite Apollo feeling the answer was obvious. He supposed Klavier must feel the same in reverse. What a guy.

“Why are you laughing?” “You’re cute.” “Ach!” He blushed and tried to cover his face with his hands, failing miserably because of the positions of both Apollo and the towel. “N-nein! You’re cute.” Apollo grinned at him, he must have looked like a lovesick fool. “We can both be cute, Klav.” “... I suppose.” “Let’s get you dressed, then we can cuddle?” “Ja, let’s do that.”

Apollo helped Klavier step into his pants and then pulled the shirt over his head. Once Klavier got his arms through, Apollo led him back to bed and helped him up. He slipped in on the other side and pulled the blankets up.

“Are you ready to go back to sleep or do you need a little bit first?” “Um, actually, could I make a request?” “You can make any request you want, I’ll let you know if I can fulfill it.” Klavier huffed at his boyfriend’s antics. “Can you read this to me?” He reached to the bottom shelf of the nightstand, nearly falling out of bed, and produced a small book with a picture of a dragon on the front. Apollo took the book and flipped through it. “... It’s in German.” “Ja.” “I can’t read German.” Klavier pouted, tearing up a bit. “Um, but, I’m sure I can find a translation!” Klavier brightened up immediately. “Ok, uh, ‘Sagen aus Kärnten’?”

Choosing to ignore the giggles signalling his botched pronunciation, Apollo pulled out his phone and found Project Gutenberg had all of the stories collected and ran the page through a translator. It wasn’t ‘fantastich’ but it was better than nothing.

Klavier leaned against him so Apollo put his arm around him and ran his fingers through long blonde hair. It was only a few stories before Klavier was completely out, probably helped by the medicine. Apollo laid him down and got everything situated before turning out the light. There would be less risk of getting himself sick if he slept in another room, but he wanted to be there if Klavier woke up again and needed something. He put on a later alarm than usual so that he’d be able to call the both of them out of work in the morning.

All too soon, the alarm sounded. He quickly shut it off and checked to see if it had woken Klavier. Evidently he need not have worried considering the snores that were still coming from the other side of the bed. He sent a quick text to the WAA group chat then started mentally prepping himself for the call to the prosecutor’s office. Oh how he wished to do his morning vocal exercise, but that would definitely wake Klavier up. He’d make do, after all, he’d heard all sorts of goofy things about Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth from Mr. Wright. He wasn’t that scary. He had gone to the man’s birthday party and it was Steel Samurai themed! Ok, he could do this.

“Prosecutor’s Office, Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth speaking.” “Uh, hello Mr. Edgeworth, sir. This is Apollo Justice. I’m calling because Klavier Gavin is too sick to come in today.” “Hello, Mr. Justice. I’m sorry to hear that. Will he need tomorrow off as well?” “I’m not sure. If he has anything to say about it, he’ll be there, but he’s had a fever all night so I’m not sure he’ll be well enough.” “I see…” Apollo could hear rustling papers on the other end of the line. “It appears he has no court appearances, so please tell Prosecutor Gavin he has the rest of the week off and that if he shows up despite this I will suspend him.” “O-ok?” That was a bit much? Maybe? Apollo wasn’t going to argue. “And Mr. Justice?” “Yes?” “Please take care of him.” “Uh, yes sir!” “If that’s all I have my work to get back to.” “Of course! Yes. That’s all.” “Have a good day, Mr. Justice.” “Uh, yeah. You as well.”

The line went dead. He did it! Yes! Take that, universe! He was Apollo Justice and he was fine! But now what? He could probably do some of his work from home until Klav woke up. Yeah, that would do.

--------------

When Klavier woke, he could hear tapping. What was that? It sounded very familiar. He tried to turn and look but his limbs felt far too heavy.

“You up?”

He heard someone next to him speak but he could only grunt in return. His vision was still extra blurry from sleep on top of the regular blurry from lack of glasses or contacts. There was a hand next to him which he took a moment to identify as his own. He felt like he was waking up far slower than usual.

“Pollo?” “Right here.”

Klavier was starting to be able to focus. The tapping sound must have been the keyboard on Apollo’s laptop. The sun was coming through one of the windows at an angle he recognized from the weekend when he was able to laze about longer. But wait, wasn’t it Wednesday?

Apollo waited for Klavier to say something else, but instead watched the other man throw himself into a sitting position and look awfully green as a result.

“Woah, hey there. Slow down, you’ll make yourself sick again.” “Wha- I’m late!” “I already called you out of work for today.” “What?! Why?” “Do you remember what happened last night? Well kind of this morning. It was 3 AM.” “Huh?”

Klavier did his best to remember. He remembered feeling really bad, there was a bath, and then he fell asleep to something familiar. The more he thought, the more pieces filled in.

“Ach, es tut mir leid.” “It’s ok, really. You can’t control when you get sick and I like taking care of you.” “But you’re missing work as well.” “I can do my work from here. Mr. Wright will just have to have Athena clean the toilet today.” “Are you sure?” “Positive.” Apollo leaned up to place a kiss on Klavier’s forehead. “You’re a bit warm again. Are you up to eating anything? I can make you eggs and toast.” “Ja, I could eat that.” “Ok, you stay here. It’ll only take a couple minutes.” “Ok.”

Klavier relaxed himself a bit, stacking some pillows so he could sit up with less effort. He might be sick, but he would hate to sleep the day away. At least he didn’t have court today, he would have felt awful if that got pushed onto someone else. He thought about doing some work from home as well, but there was no way Apollo would allow that. He checked the time. It was only 11:30, so at least he had woken up before noon.

“Hey, Klav.”

Apollo was a vision standing in the doorway with a tray of breakfast and Klavier thought he might die.

“Schatz!” Apollo smiled and brought the tray over. “You might not be so happy with me in a second.” “Was?” “When I called you out I wasn’t sure how you’d be feeling tomorrow so Mr. Edgeworth gave you the rest of the week off.” Klavier frowned. “I can just go in anyway, he won’t mind.” “Actually he said he’d suspend you if you showed up.” “Ach! Verdammt. He really thinks of everything.” “You’re kind of acting like your boss looking out for your health means he’s out to get you.” “What will I do with myself for five whole days until Monday?” Klavier lamented, only narrowly remembering the tray on his lap before he flopped dramatically. Breakfast was thankfully safe. “Well… I’ll be here. He did tell me to take care of you so you know Mr. Wright isn’t going to be allowed to call me in.” “Hmm… I suppose there are worse fates than having to spend five days with my wonderful Häschen.” “Are there better?” Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Make it forever and with ice cream as well.” Apollo laughed. “You’re too much. Eat your breakfast.” Klavier smiled. “Was würde ich ohne dich tun?” “I don’t know what that means.” “Mm. Ich liebe dich.” “Ah, I know that one. I love you, too.”

[boxwinebaddie]

Concept: Jersey!Kyle on Black Friday

THE SOUND THAT JUST CAME OUT OF MY MOUTH

no...because that is the jersey kyle super bowl...

thats litrally the scary broke boy college student mf Olympics babey!

also its fucking horrifying oh my god literally every year after bebe parks lady in the mall parking lot, marj child locks tweek and kyles side door, turns around with her hand on her hip, finger wagging all like NOW SEE HERE BOYS!!!!! I DONT WANT NO FUNNY BUSINESS YA HEAR? TWEEK NO BITIN!!! KYLE NO FIGHTIN!!!! SHLKDSHS

and theyre both like "ofc!" <3 *angel emoji*...then the second marj is not looking, kyle uses his long lanky ass extendo arm to unchild lock the door and him and tweek are like SIIIIKE! NO PROMISES! riiiip

he is a menace in there like rm!kyle is fine as hell but so scary if he looked at me and i had something in my hands i would drop it immediately and fall to my knees hfdlksahd! anyways!

hes definitely hoarding all the pumpkin chai fall scented shit, hip checking 15 year old girls taking too long in bath and body works, fighting karen soccer moms over blenders and shower curtains, straight up dislocating arms, rolling up his sleeve, glitter and tinsel all over his face like "do come back!!! its buy one get one FREE, bitch!!!" scarring entire families with little kids in them screaming GUESS WHAT SANTA ISNT REAL!!!! snatching candy right out of their hands

like kyle was kyley b jew jersey kyle u can take the boy out of new jersey but you cant take the new jersey out of the boy!!! hes threatened to crack people over the head with LAMPS in the display section of the department store, duel wielding frying pans like

ID STAY BACK IF I WERE YOU A-HOLE BUT IF YOU INSIST FOR THE LOW PRICE OF ZERO DOLLARS AND ZERO CENTS I WILL BUST YA FUCKEN HEAD OPEN LIKE A PINATA AND THE DENT IT MAKES IN MY NICE NEW PAN WILL MAKE IT 50% OFF AT THE REGISTA!!!!

if there wasnt security devices all over the knives...it would b over

100% jersey!kyle gets dragged out of that mall, kicking, screaming, hissing, fucking biting, clawing, you name it shdlksahd shouting wHAT THE HELL DID I EVEN DO!!! I DIDNT EVEN DO ANYTHING!!! like baby why is half of the store crying and the other half ON FIRE?

mall security takes his mug shot for the Banned list and his hair is all over the place, theres gift wrap in his hair, probably blood on his cheek, his lip is busted, hes flipping off the camera & rolling his eyes

icon moment <3 im love him

um...as a bonus...conversely...ravenstan would throw up if he were at a department store black friday blow out sale im fuckin crying omg.

like ik he is a celebrity but he would have a panic attack like he enjoys the mosh pit where u are supposed to run into other people, i just know that entire thirty minutes that anxious punk rock angel would just be like ah! excuse me, excuse, oh god, im so sorry, excuse me, ill get out of your way, omg!! sorry!! sorry, wow im so sorry, excuse me!!!

SKHDLKDSHDSL bless him honestly

hed be like not even working there and translating directions so some sweet old mexican lady can find the electronics department for her grandkid's airpods and then buying them for her, giving little kids boosts and piggy back rides so they can reach the toy they were trying to grab off the top shelf and raven telling them to take two <3, literally just trying to be helpful and put stuff that people ( jersey prolly ) knocked off the shelves back onto them but accidentally knocking the entire display over heeeeeelp ( i love u raven my son )

all while jersey is just like ripping peoples hair out, playing irl tetris trying to fit the entire store into the cart, being batshit fkn insane.

ok tldr; the rm line up for black friday isssss...

kyle and tweek being feral and crazy and IN!FUCKING!SANE causing a maaaaassive commotion

kenny and craig robbing the entire place blind ( fuck u big corpo ) while everyone is distracted

( its the way kyle doesnt condone stealing but condones fucking threatening to MURDER people over a single britta filter )

bebe and jimmy putting the whole thing on tiktok and insta reels living and breathing for the drama, jimmy makin literal meme content and bebe like trying to get kenny and craig to steal makeup omg

and marj and ravenstan on damage control, completely mortified...

not all heroes wear capes.

-uncle nina, black friday survivor

[themuselesswriter]

Troy's Room

Bed: he has an Olympic Queen sized bed that Tracy brought him in her house renovation era when he was ten, his bed is always well made (Jeremiah would be upset whenever it wasn't and give the poor boy hell), his bedsheets are of neutral or earthly colors aka beige, white, black, green, grey, brown, he has some red elements as well but never too noticeable.

Window: he has a huge window in his room which he is grateful for, he moved his bed to have one side facing it so he can know that he isn't trapped when he wakes up at night.

Balcony: he has a small balcony that he used to use to sneak out into Mike's house and vice versa, it's also his escape whenever his mom and dad fight, he'd go out and lock himself out until they calm down to escape their loud noises.

Chairs: he has two chairs in his room, again gifted by his mother's renovation era, he likes to sit at the one the left to read, the one on the right is usually for visitors.

Closet: his closet is medium, it has two doors, one for his indoor clothes, flannels, hats, and accessories, he also stored his books and notebooks there as well cause he didn't have many things, the other is for his hanging shirts, pants and shoes.

Rug: he has a small red rug in his room that he used to play on when he was younger, it has a spot darker than the rest on the left side but he doesn't remember how it got there.

Pictures: he only has one picture hanging, it is of him, his mother, his father and Jake, he has no posters or any other type of pictures.

Nightstand: he puts a table lamp on it that became useless after the apocalypse and was replaced with candles instead, his drawer has candles and a pocket knife, while his storage has some books he found during his raids and a granola bar.

Mirror: he has one full body size mirror near the door, it has cracks on it but works just fine.

Pillows: Troy only has two pillows, they are low, and somehow uncomfortable but he is used to them so he doesn't change them, he also uses his pillows to muffle his cries and screams.

Bathroom: his room doesn't have a bathroom, his bathroom is right outside, between the room Jake used to sleep in and his, the bathroom has all of his hygiene necessities, a shampoo, deodorant, body washing soap, face washing soap, dental health kit, hairbrush and shaving kit.

Childhood Memories: Jeremiah made Troy get rid of everything childhood related once he became fifteen, all of his toys, books, art and memories were placed in a box and thrown in the basement, he managed to save one thing, that is a small race car and hide it in his closet.

[superblysubpar]

The Final Girls

"You're doing that wrong." She snaps her gum and fiddles with rag in her fingers, pausing her work on the espresso machine as you glare over your shoulder. You set the stack of books down on the top of your ladder, crossing your arms with an annoyed huff. You actually can't stand your co-worker, you have to lean over the tower of books, resting your knee on a rung. "Excu-" Ring! Ring! Riiiiiiiiinn-" "Roasted Reads, how can we help you?" Robin's face pales, and your annoyance dulls in a truce, the jackass prank caller making you both agree on something for once. "Listen, whoever this is, you're not funny and you can fuck right off and-" She slams the phone back into the receiver when they hang up again as the wind whips the tree branches against the glass making you both jump. "Spooky," she whispers.

The dim glow of the lamp against the wooden tabletop flickers as the storm worsens outside the stained glass windows. Your eyes narrow, focused on finding the missing piece of research needed for this story. You were going to get that front page article, you were going to get that head nod and 'good work, kid' from your boss this time. Not that prissy, know it all, up your editor's ass Nancy fucking Wh- "Hey." Speak of the devil, she stands across the table from you, several books in her hands, a messenger bag on her shoulder and her ever present coffee mug balancing between it all. Your gaze returns to your own book, page turning despite not seeing any of the words anymore as your voice comes out icy, "What do you want Wheeler?" "Just wondering how your story's going? You seem kind of..." when she trails off you look up. Only you regret giving her the satisfaction immediately as she motions around her face and grimaces as she tacks on, "Frazzled." "Fu-" "Shhhh!" The table of pre-law students on your right hiss towards the two of you. Nancy and you both whisper apologies and glare at each other. You return to your research, wind, rain, and branches whip and thwap against the panes of the window as she clears her throat. You don't look up this time when you ask, "Still here?" Her sigh is laced with sixteen feelings rolled into one. Exasperation, impatience, annoyance, you could go on until she asks, "Actually, I was wondering if you'd come to the basement archives with me? It's really, actually, super creepy down there and I don't want to go alone and I have to for this lead I have and-" "You have a lead?" Her eyes narrow and you start to close your items and offer, "Share the lead with me and I'll go." The weighing of options clear and painful to witness on her features until she sticks out her hand for you to shake. Your grin is one of an Olympic champion as you stand. "Aw, all you had to do was ask me to hold your hand in the spooky basement Wheeler." "Fu-" "SHHHHH!"

Vote for which story you'd like an extended rental on and which one you'd like to return starting on Tuesday, October 3rd. Details can be found here.