#ribbon lightning

[thinkingimages]

William Jennings. Ribbon Lightning

+ https://underthepyramids.tumblr.com/post/40251369176/the-first-photographs-of-lightning

[niseag-arts]

I made a copy token! What is a man to do when his husband is out planeswalking? resort to a copy.

[jesalia]

I cannot express how much joy I get from Tomik Shutting Judith down as quick as he did!

[fujii-draws]

Stroke of bad luck

[stimbus]

Hatsune Miku stimboard, blue & teal with lights from space, the city & the ocean 🌌🎶

🌠 ♪ 🩵 ♪ 🌌 ♪ 🌃 ♪ 💙 ♪ ☄️ ♪ 🐟 ♪ 🌀 ♪ 🐬

[m00nb04rd5]

Gamma 1 and Gamma 2 (Dragon Ball)

[satanzayoru25341]

Thunderbolts Bucky Barnes Edit

Just thought of adding yellow stickers and Cinnamoroll ones, because why not

[akkivee]

he was our homecoming king 😌😌😌

[greyhoundghostwriter]

Lei Xiaowen's kaiju form!!! big stormy boy

[sapienthominid]

Some old drawings! Of Carora (L) and An (R)

[midnightmoonbeams]

Mario Kart is so fun sometimes...

From March 10th, 2022

[serasalvatore]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚. PIROUETTE !

single dad!jh86 x ballerina!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. mentions of single parenthood, brief emotional vulnerability, mild language, lots of fluff, found family themes.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. you’ve been teaching ballet for a few years, but no student ever made quite the same impact as winnie hughes, she’s a chatty six-year-old with wild curls, energy, and stories about her superhero dad. you’ve never met him, never seen him at drop-off, but you’ve heard plenty about he’s good at skating, he makes the best grilled cheese, and he’s apparently okay with winnie calling her ballet teacher her bestfriend ever. and then one day, he shows up and asks you to be his date to a wedding, because winnie refuses to go unless you’re there. maybe it starts with ballet slippers and a flower girl dress, but where it goes next… well, that’s a story still being written.

𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒚𝒏. an ask for everything, you can send questions, recommend fics, self-promo, or even share your thoughts on my work.

002 ↦

winnie hughes never walks — she twirls.

everyweek, she bursts into the studio in her glittery pink leotard, ballet shoes in one hand and a lopsided bun already falling apart on her head. she always greets you the same way,

“hi miss y/n!!” l like you’re the highlight of her entire day.

kind ellen, her grandmother or sometimes a sweet neighbor lady named sandy, drops her off and waves through the window before leaving. and yet every single week, winnie talks about her dad like he’s a legend.

you’ve never seen her dad. only know his name is jack hughes and nothing more.

“my daddy skates sooo fast. faster than lightning.”

“he used to be on tv! and he says ballet is even harder than hockey.”

“daddy said he tried to do a plié once and fell on his butt.”

you smile at each story. you learn that her dad makes blueberry pancakes every saturday. that he once let winnie wear his jersey to school because she spilled orange juice on her favorite dress. that he tells her bedtime stories in funny voices, even when he’s tired.

and then, one rainy tuesday, while tying the ribbon on her slipper, winnie says it casually.

“i told daddy you’re my bestfriend ever, miss y/n.”

you glance up in surprise. “you did?”

she nods with a grin. “yup. i said, ‘miss y/n teaches me to fly with my feet.’ and he said that was a very nice thing to say.”

your heart swells in your chest.

then comes the day he walks into the studio.

you’re cleaning up after class, stacking mats, helping a student zip her coat when the door creaks open. for a split second, you think maybe sandy came early today.

but instead, it’s him.

tall, blue-eyed, a little unsure as he steps inside, one hand shoved in his hoodie pocket. his hair is tousled like he’s run his fingers through it too many times. and winnie? winnie lights up like she’s powered by sunshine.

“dadaaa!” she squeals, running toward him and nearly tackling him at the knees.

jack hugs her back without missing a beat, lifting her effortlessly.

“hey, bug.”

then she turns in his arms and gestures right at you with a dramatic flair.

“look, dada, that’s miss y/n! my bestfriend that i told you about!”

you blink, a little stunned. your cheeks warm as jack’s gaze meets yours.

his smile is crooked and gentle. “so you’re the famous miss y/n.”

“and you must be the skating superhero,” you say, still caught off guard.

he chuckles, the sound low and kind. “she talks about you all the time.”

“she talks about you, too,” you admit.

he nods, there’s a pause just long enough to feel the buzz of something unspoken and then he clears his throat.

“so… this might be kind of weird,” he says, “but my cousin’s wedding is this weekend. and winnie’s supposed to be the flower girl.”

you nod politely, unsure where this is going.

jack glances at winnie. “she told everyone she wasn’t going unless you were there.”

you blink. “me?”

“yeah. she told the whole family. says you’re her best friend and she wants to dance with you at the party. and she might’ve said… you were coming already.”

you look at winnie, who grins like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“so,” jack continues, “would you maybe come? as my date. or guest. or emotional support ballerina. whatever works.”

you smile, soft and a little amused. “well… how can i say no to my bestfriend?”

the wedding is held at a beautiful vineyard just outside of the city. you wear a dress that makes you feel light and graceful, and when winnie sees you, her eyes widen like you’re a princess from one of her storybooks.

“you look like a fairy, miss y/n!”

jack, beside her, just stares for a second too long.

“thanks,” he says, finally, clearing his throat. “for coming. really.”

winnie doesn’t leave your side the whole afternoon.

you help her tuck flowers into her basket before the ceremony. you hold her hand when she gets nervous walking down the aisle. you cheer the loudest when she nails her toss of petals and runs back to the front row giggling.

jack keeps glancing your way like he’s watching something unfamiliar and comforting all at once.

people make assumptions.

“oh, you must be jack’s girlfriend!”

“are you winnie’s mom? you two look so close!”

you always smile, always say the same thing. “no, i’m just her ballet teacher.”

but the word “just” doesn’t feel quite right.

you hold winnie’s shoes when she wants to dance barefoot. you braid her hair when it gets messy. you wrap her in your cardigan when the night breeze picks up and she starts to yawn. she falls asleep leaning on your shoulder and you don’t move not even when your arm goes numb.

jack eventually walks over and sits beside you. he looks at her, then at you.

“she’s usually pretty shy at these things,” he says quietly. “but… not tonight.”

you glance down at winnie, breathing softly, hand still curled around yours.

“she’s such a nice little girl,” you whisper.

he nods. “she is.”

there’s a stretch of silence. the lights above you glow gold and soft.

“you’re really good with her,” jack says after a moment.

“i love being around her,” you reply honestly.

he doesn’t say anything else, but the way he looks at you, don’t know what this is yet.

you don’t know if it’s something or just a lovely moment made of lace and laughter and winnie’s sunshine smile. but when jack helps you carry her to the car and buckles her in gently, then opens the door for you, you feel something slow, something warm.

and maybe it’s the start.

[lamaery]

Looking for a stormy or colorful summer beach read? @priscellie and Ihad way too much fun creating some romance novel versions of Rhythm of War and Warbreaker. I made the illustrations and Priscillie made them look like actual books – beautifully ridiculous, curly typography, mock-up and all. I hope that there will be more :D

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

Image description: (by Priscillie) Photomanipulation of two battered paperback pulp romance novels that look straight out of a thrift store bargain bin in the 1980s. The books are RHYTHM OF WAR and WARBREAKER by Sandra Branderson. RHYTHM OF WAR features an illustration of Navani and Raboniel experimenting with light, Raboniel looming behind Navani and leaning in, their faces almost touching. Raboniel streams voidlight from her image-left hand, which travels like lightning through Navani's tuning fork and into the sphere in Navani's gloved safehand. It's the primary source of light in the scene, and the background is nothing but murky darkness. Raboniel focuses intently, her red eyes alien and unknowable, as she focuses on her work. One of Navani's unkempt locks of hair just brushes the corner of Raboniel's mouth, and I'm not normal about it. Navani looks like she's gone three days without changing clothes and that she's slept in her hairstyle a similar number of nights. The collar of her havah is open, revealing her collarbones. Her expression is a mix of amazement, fear, and exhaustion, her mouth slightly open and her head tilted back slightly. Her face is lit from below by their experiment. The title and author's name are angled at a sharp diagonal, with strong capital letters and the occasional flourish. At the top is the tagline "In the Heart of War... Passion and Honor are Fused!" In one corner is some publication information, with a little logo of a seal and the words "A 'Sealed With a Kiss' Paperback," the fake ISBN 17S-631-1123-1210 (the last two sets of numbers being our birthdays), and prices in America and Canada. The other book is Warbreaker, also by Sandra Branderson. The illustration depicts Susebron and Siri in a ridiculously overblown, windswept Fabio-style cover, with a shirtless Susebron holding Siri so she's half sitting on his chest, one knee up with her thigh along his chest, her legs off to one side, and with her body twisted so she's facing him with her upper body, leaning down to him, a breath away from kissing him. She's wearing a teal dress with a Mesoamerican vibe that reveals her midriff and leaves her shoulders bare, but with a long train that blows off to the side. Her arms are painted in looping gold shapes. Her hair is blonde for most of its length, but it's beginning to change to a vivid red at the scalp. It's wrapped in teal ribbon to match her dress. Susebron has long, sleek black hair caught by the wind, chunky gold earrings and a slim gold cuff at his upper arm, and is wrapped in long white strips of awakened cloth that snake through the image in an energetic explosion of fabric. He gazes at her in handsome adoration and abandon, and she gazes back in love tempered by concern. The title has the same diagonal and italicized design with the same typeface and flourishes, but the title is jazzed up with shimmery, iridescent type. At the top is the tagling "She was forced to marry a god... Then she took his breath away!"

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #24

When Danny Fenton got into MIT, he thought the biggest challenge would be balancing ghost hunting with college coursework. What he didn’t expect was to impress Dr. Jane Freaking Foster—renowned astrophysicist, literal genius, the mind behind the Foster Theory, and, unbeknownst to her, his idol since age thirteen—during a campus science expo when he presented his thesis on interdimensional ectoplasmic lattice fluctuations as a potential fuel source for wormhole stabilization. He thought she’d walk by his booth with a polite smile. Instead, she paused, squinted at his equations, asked three rapid-fire questions, then turned to the MIT faculty and said, “Is this kid legally allowed to work in a government lab yet?”

That’s how he became her apprentice.

Danny thought it would be, you know, an internship. Fetch coffee, carry papers, maybe input data if he got lucky. What he didn’t expect was to be living in New Mexico three months later, standing on a roof beside Jane Foster while she casually pointed at the sky and said, “If this gravitational anomaly maintains its trajectory, we’ll have a Yggdrasil branch brush up against the heliopause by Tuesday. That’s new.”

Danny nodded, mostly pretending he understood.

What neither of them anticipated was Thor crashing into their lives again like a golden retriever with a god complex and a hammer. He landed dramatically during a research presentation, lightning still fizzing off his cape, and made such eye contact with Jane that the projector screen behind them shorted out.

And then he saw Danny.

“Young one!” Thor bellowed, eyes wide, blond hair tousled by divine winds, “You must be her son.”

Danny blinked. “I—what?”

“Of course!” Thor clasped his shoulder. “You have her radiant intellect and tenacity. Truly, you are worthy of Midgard’s finest mother.”

“I—she’s not—” Danny tried.

Thor turned to Jane, face alight. “You did not tell me you had borne a child! And one so strong in spirit! A scholar of the stars!”

Jane rubbed her temples. “Thor. He’s nineteen. I met him last month. He’s my apprentice. He is not my son.”

Thor shook his head gravely. “Say no more, Jane. I understand. You wished to protect him from the dangers of our past. But I vow upon Mjolnir’s handle, I shall be a father to him.”

“What the hell,” Danny muttered.

Over the next few days, things escalated fast.

Danny woke up one morning to find a goat outside the lab. A live goat. Wearing a ribbon. The tag read: For my brave son, may his mornings be strong of milk and noble of beard. Jane nearly choked on her cereal. Darcy screamed and immediately named the goat “Spacey.”

Thor showed up during Danny’s lecture on cosmic radiation and brought a sack of Asgardian textbooks written in glowing runes, which promptly caused two lab interns to faint and one professor to file a complaint.

Danny begged Jane to tell him this would stop.

“No,” Jane said, sipping her coffee without looking up. “You’re his emotional support stepson now.”

“I don’t want to be anyone’s emotional support anything!” Danny cried. “I have ectoplasmic trauma and insomnia!”

But Thor persisted.

He invited Danny to spar in the desert, claiming it would “toughen his warrior instincts.” Danny blasted a crater in the sand when a ghost startled him mid-match, and Thor wept with pride. “Such fire! Truly, a son worthy of thunder.”

Jane sighed. “You’re going to give him a complex.”

“I already have a complex!” Danny yelled from where he was half-buried in sand.

Then came the night Thor pulled Danny aside with intense solemnity.

“Daniel,” he said, kneeling, “I seek your blessing.”

Danny froze, halfway through a sandwich. “I—what—blessing for what?”

“To court your mother.”

“She’s NOT my—!”

Thor raised a hand. “Please. I know you wish to protect her. But my heart is true. I have spent long hours learning Midgardian courtship. Observe.”

He pulled out a guitar. A guitar. From nowhere. And began strumming aggressively while singing off-key.

“Oh Jane, fairest in the stars, your eyes burn like a neutron quasaaaaaar—”

Danny screamed into his sandwich.

Jane screamed into her coffee.

Darcy recorded the entire thing.

By the time the Avengers got wind of what was happening, it was too late. Tony Stark showed up purely out of pettiness.

“So this is the ‘son,’ huh?” he said, looking Danny up and down like he was a new model of iPhone. “You do look like Jane. Same ‘don’t talk to me before coffee’ vibe. But with a sprinkle of sleep-deprived raccoon.”

Danny glared. “You must be the one Jane threatens to launch into orbit when she’s annoyed.”

“See? Family resemblance,” Tony muttered.

Then Steve Rogers took Thor aside and whispered, “Are you sure he’s her kid? Jane would’ve told us if she had a child.”

Thor nodded gravely. “It is the only explanation. He speaks with passion, has knowledge of the stars, and I saw him summon green fire from his hands!”

“It was a ghost, Thor,” Danny shouted from across the lab. “It was literally a ghost trying to possess a vending machine!”

“Exactly!” Thor beamed.

“Thor. I’m nineteen. Jane is thirty-seven.”

“She is a goddess among mortals. Perhaps she birthed you when she was five.”

“That’s not how—YOU KNOW WHAT, NEVER MIND.”

Soon, even Loki showed up, slinking into the lab with a smirk like a serpent in silk.

“I had to see for myself,” he purred, circling Danny like a shark. “The mortal child who ensnared my brother’s affections.”

Danny just blinked. “I’m not his kid. Or Jane’s. I’m not even sure I’m awake right now.”

Loki chuckled. “You’ll make an excellent prince. Do you have any interest in necromancy?”

“I’m a ghost half the time,” Danny deadpanned. “Define interest.”

Loki grinned wider.

Eventually, S.H.I.E.L.D. got involved. Fury showed up, took one look at the scene—the goat eating research notes, Thor trying to build Danny a golden throne, Jane yelling about radiation levels, and Danny levitating out of sheer stress—and muttered, “Nope,” before turning around and leaving.

But beneath all the chaos, Danny… didn’t hate it.

Jane never treated him like a kid. She taught him everything, from solar flares to Bifrost trajectories. She let him make mistakes, then helped him fix them. She told him he was brilliant, and for once, he kind of believed it. And Thor, for all his thunderous confusion, brought him starfruit from Alfheim and carved him a wooden Mjolnir as a “coming-of-age” gift.

Danny didn’t even mind the goat anymore.

He still insisted, every day, that Jane was not his mom.

But when Thor presented him with a massive, hand-forged broadsword inscribed with: To my noble son, may your ghosts be vanquished and your GPA ever high, he kind of teared up.

A little.

One evening, as they watched the stars from the roof, Jane handed Danny a cup of tea.

“He really does think you’re my kid,” she said.

Danny took a sip. “Yeah. I gave up trying to convince him.”

“Is it weird?”

“Kinda. But… not bad.” He hesitated. “Do you… mind?”

Jane looked at him, surprised. “No. I mean—you’re not. But if you were, I’d be proud.”

Danny stared at the stars until they blurred.

Later, Thor appeared beside them, cape fluttering dramatically despite the lack of wind.

“I have returned with tales of valor,” he declared, “and also cheesecake.”

Danny took the box.

“Son!” Thor beamed.

Danny sighed.

“Fine. You can have my blessing.”

Thor dropped Mjolnir in joy.

Jane looked horrified. “Danny, what the hell?!”

“I didn’t say I wanted it to happen,” Danny muttered. “I just figured he’d stop bringing me swords if I gave in.”

“He won’t,” she said flatly.

He didn’t.

The next morning, Danny woke up to find a full set of Asgardian armor beside his bed and a note that read: For my beloved heir. P.S. I have begun planning the wedding. Do you think your mother would prefer swans or flaming eels as decoration?

He screamed into his pillow.

The goat screamed with him.

[kajibunny]

✶⋆.˚꩜ it's not what it looks like, i swear!˙⋆✶ w/ the wind breaker boys

✿ featuring: haruka sakura, ren kaji, hajime umemiya, hayato suo, jo togame, toma hiragi (first time writing for hiragi! yipeee) ✿ contains: suggestive dialogues, crack, mutual pining, some established relationship, a lil bit of fluff ✿ a/n: heads up, please do not read this while drinking coffee because you’ll probably end up like sakura in the banner ( ≧ᗜ≦)  ✿ wc: 2.4k

— what happens when perfectly innocent scenarios with them turn suggestive once they are taken out of context? well, you're about to find out one way or another. 

ʚɞ kaji -

how did you two end up in this position?

kaji was sprawled on top of you, his hands braced on either side of your head with his knees straddling your legs. his face was so close that you could feel his breath against your skin, your cheeks burning pink as his eyes locked with yours.

"kaji, you were supposed to be chasing the cat, not me!" you exclaimed, feeling the heat rise up your cheeks. 

"you were in the way." kaji responded, with a frustrated sigh.

"you were the one who knocked me over!" you shot back at him.

he tried to move aside, but the way your breath hitched, your lips parted and your cute face so flushed left him momentarily frozen.

when you offered to help kaji find risa-chan, you had no idea how things would spiral. chasing the cat with the pink ribbon felt like trying to catch a bolt of lightning. 

as you both darted around in pursuit, kaji eventually found her on a bush and made a desperate lunge to grab the elusive feline. instead, he ended up accidentally colliding into you, sending you both tumbling into an unexpectedly intimate position.

"kaji! that’s not the cat you’rrre supposed to be chasing! arrre you two fooling arrround with each otherrr now?" enomoto’s voice rang out, breaking the spell. beside him was kusumi who covered his eyes with his hands—though the gap between his fingers betrayed his curiosity.

"we weren't—"

"this isn't—"

neither you nor kaji could find the words to explain how you two ended up like this, tangled up and breathless, both of you too flustered to speak. 

finally, kaji regained composure and got up, dusting off his clothes before offering you a hand, still refusing to meet your gaze as you took his outstretched hand to pull yourself up. you two continued your search without uttering a word to one another. 

although, the way kaji fiddled with his lollipop and hurriedly put on his headphones while turning his blushing face away everytime he saw you spoke volumes. why did you have to look so adorable in that vulnerable position? 

kaji did end up catching something else that day, and it was feelings of undeniable romantic attraction for you.

ʚɞ umemiya -

"there, there, let me put it in, i'll a be a bit more gentle this time, okay?" umemiya said, his voice calm and reassuring. "oh no, it won't go in." you exhaled in frustration. 

"ah, it's because your hole is too tight." he said with a slight grin. "what? i-i thought maybe it was just too big to fit in my hole." you replied, a hint of embarrassment in your voice. 

"don't worry, i've got you. i'll help you ease it in - there we go, nice and deep, just like that." umemiya groaned softly as he helped you lift and position the pots in their rightful place. 

"you're so good at this, ume!" you praised him, giving umemiya a pat on the back, your eyes lighting up in admiration as he gave you a wide, proud smile.

gardening together with umemiya was definitely hot. literally. the sun beaming down on you both, with little shade to protect your skin from the heat. 

as you wiped the sweat from your forehead, you wondered how he managed to convince you to be his gardening assistant for the day. maybe it was his irresistable charm, or that infectious smile. 

either way, you were here now, knee-deep in dirt, struggling to transport seedlings - a task that was proving to be far more challenging than you anticipated.

meanwhile, the tamon squad had gathered outside the rooftop garden, their faces flustered as they listened in on your conversation.

"are they-?" nirei whispered, his voice filled with disbelief. 

"but...on the rooftop of all places?" kiryu added, equally shocked. 

"what are they doing, it sounds so-" sakura began, but hiragi cut him off. "okay, that's enough. everybody back to patrol-" hiragi declared, but then the weight of everyone leaning on the rooftop door caused it to whip open.

they all accidentally burst into the garden, only to be met by the sight of you and umemiya...calmly arranging pots. nothing more, nothing less. 

oh, so that's what it's about. the tightness, and the holes, and the depth. it all made sense now.

suo bent forward and whispered to both of you: "sorry, we kind of misunderstood and thought you two were doing something else up here." 

you and umemiya exchanged confused glances with flushed faces, completely oblivious to what they were insinuating. 

upon looking back and gaining realization of what you and umemiya might have sounded like to them, your only wish was to be a transported seedling buried beneath the soil of umemiya's garden.

ʚɞ sakura -

you pressed the back of your hand against sakura’s forehead, feeling the unmistakable heat radiating from his skin. "you’re burning up, sakura." you murmured, in a concerned tone.

he tried to brush it off, his cheeks faintly flushed. "what are you talking about!? i’m fine...!" he protested, but his hoarse voice betrayed him.

you shook your head, a determined look in your eyes. "take off your top."

sakura’s eyes shot wide open. "w-what? no! why are you trying to undress me?!"

you stifled a laugh, and tried to ease him. "to give you a sponge bath, silly. don't worry, i'm used to taking care of sick people. it'll help lower your temperature."

despite his protests, he eventually allowed you to help, his face burning brighter as you carefully sponged his fevered skin, your touch both soothing and embarrassing him.

when dinner time rolled around, you placed a bowl of steaming soup in front of him. "here, umemiya gave me the recipe. it's his special soup!"

sakura, still flustered from earlier, reached for the bowl with shaky hands, but you gently stopped him.

"say ah." you instructed, holding a spoonful of soup close to his lips.

his eyes widened again, his voice shaky. "w-what are you trying to do this time?"

you tilted your head. "you’re too weak to hold the spoon, sakura. let me take care of you." you smiled gently at him.

"i’m...i’m fine!" he insisted, his face a mix of embarrassment and defiance.

you leaned in closer. "sakura, let me do this for you. i’m not taking no for an answer." 

he eventually reluctantly opened his mouth, allowing you to feed him. this feeling was all so foreign to him, as no one ever tried to care of him like this. 

however, the real challenge came when it was time for him to take his medicine. sakura outright refused, turning his head away with a stubborn glare.

"be a good boy and take it." you insisted, holding the medicine out to him.

"no way." he muttered, crossing his arms defiantly.

a sigh escaped your lips. "sakura, don’t make me give it to you by force."

his eyes widened for a moment at your insinuation, but he still refused to budge. so, with a determined look, you gently pushed him back onto the bed, pinning him down.

"open your mouth." you commanded, in a firm voice.

sakura’s blush deepened as he squirmed beneath you. he hesitantly opened his mouth, allowing you to administer the medicine, his cheeks burning with both the fever and the flurry of emotions he couldn’t quite name along with the intrusive thoughts running in his mind.

as he finally swallowed, you wiped a stray drop from his lips and smiled softly. "see? that wasn’t so bad."

but instead of cooling down, you noticed sakura’s face was only getting redder, his body temperature seemingly rising even higher. you frowned, pressing your hand against his forehead again.

"hm, strange. this medicine is supposed to lower your temperature...why are you heating up even more?" you murmured.

sakura turned his head away, hiding his flushed face in the pillow, his voice barely above a whisper. "i-i don’t know either..."

you couldn’t help but wonder what was really causing his temperature to spike. maybe the medicine just needed more time...or maybe it had nothing to do with the fever at all.

ʚɞ togame -

you had asked togame to teach you self-defense, and who better to learn from than togame himself, shishitoren's second-in-command, whose fighting style was totally unpredictable, and could knock a dozen opponents to the ground.

it took a lot of convincing, but eventually, he agreed once you promised him you'll buy him a whole crate of ramune. it also didn't help that you threw him puppy eyes and a pleading face that even the togame jo himself is not immune to.

during your sparring sessions, togame tried his best to go easy on you, since he didn't want to hurt you, but you told him you wanted him to go full-force. 

"is that all you’ve got?" you teased, dodging another swipe from togame.

"nah, i’m just getting started." he shot back, as he lunged at you. you barely had time to react before togame grabbed your wrist, pulling you down onto the floor. you twisted away, but togame was quicker, pinning you beneath him.

"got you now." togame says, his voice low, leaning in close as you struggled under him, his weight pressing down just enough to keep you in place, the warmth of his body making your breath hitch.

"not yet, you don’t." you countered, managing to free one of your arms. with a swift motion, you flipped togame onto his back, your faces being inches apart, as you could see the evident blush on his face from being too close to you. 

his hands found your waist, holding you in place as you both caught your breath.

anyone who caught you two in that position would have thought you were fighting for dominance in a different sense.  

"okay, you win." he chuckled, togame's eyes looking directly into yours. "but only because i let you."

"oh, really?" you replied, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. "i think you just like being in this position."

he blinked, the room and your faces suddenly feeling warmer as your words sunk in. before he could respond, you leaned in slightly, bringing his face even closer to yours, the air between you thick with tension. he was close enough to kiss, and it certainly didn't help that he wasn't trying to make any attempt to stop you.

togame told you he wanted a round two with you, saying he wasn't going to let you off easy this time. 

ʚɞ suo -

you had agreed to help suo and sakura bake a cake for nirei's birthday, as you three were nirei's closest friends, and you wanted to make it a special celebration for him.

suo, who was quite skilled in baking, took charge and offered to teach you, while sakura assisted from the sidelines, helping the both of you in preparing the ingredients. 

it was going well at first, the kitchen filled with the sweet aroma of vanilla and chocolate, but as you and suo began working closely together on the cake, things turned into a bit of a spiced up situation.

first, you and suo mixed the batter.

"oh, you’ve really got a knack for handling the sticky stuff, huh?" suo watched you pour in the ingredients, with a playful smile on his face.

"do i? maybe it's because you help me out all the time." you say to him.

"i'm glad. here let's help you out with this, too." suo approaches you and helps you steady the mixer from behind. "thank you, suo. it's quite big so i might have a hard time doing it alone."

when sakura glanced over, from his angle it looked like suo was pressing you up against the counter, and a furious blush crept up on his cheeks as he swatted away his unwanted thoughts.

"oh, dear. it might be too wet." you turned to suo to ask for his advice.

"it looks good to me, but here, stick this in." suo says, handing you a stick of butter, which sakura had to do a double take on to make sure it was just butter and not some other kind of stick.

then you helped prepare the frosting. 

"it tastes amazing, suo!" you exclaimed, sampling the frosting.

"mind if i have a taste too?" suo said, leaning in closer. "of course, here, try it." you smiled and offered up the spoon to him. 

"ah, you have some on you, here." he pointed at your hand, which had splashes of frosting on it which escaped the piping bag. "oh no, it squirted out. i'll just lick it off, then." you replied, smiling and darting out your tongue to taste the sweet frosting.

sakura was close to absolutely losing it because of you and suo's interactions.

lastly was assembling the cake. 

"are you ready for this? it might get a bit messy." he asked you, as he brought the baking pan closer. 

"it's alright. i know you will help me clean up the mess after!"   

sakura's face turned as hot as the pre-heated oven as he listened in from the sidelines, feeling his face flush as he heard what sounded like a heated flirtatious exchange between you and suo. 

sakura silently vowed never to help you two bake a cake ever again.

ʚɞ hiragi -

hiragi was always juggling so many responsibilities as one of the four kings of bofurin, that stress had become a constant companion, often forcing him to rely on his stomach medications just to get through the day. 

so when you offered to give him a quick massage to ease his aching joints, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief.

you were very skilled with your fingers, expertly working out the tension in his shoulders, digging into every tight spot with just the right amount of pressure.

"ah, that feels so good." hiragi murmured, his voice heavy with relaxation.

"yeah? you like it there, 'ragi?" you teased, your fingers finding a particularly tight knot.

"mhm. that’s the spot..." he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to the pleasure. 

"you’re so stiff." you giggled, leaning in closer. "you really need to relax more often."

as the two of you were chilling in the cozy corner of pothos café, completely absorbed in the moment, across from you sat umemiya, who looked like he was about to choke on his food.

umemiya shot you both an incredulous look. "please, not in front of my salad!" he quipped, his tone half-joking, half-bewildered.

you glanced over at his plate, unable to suppress a laugh. "umemiya, your food isn’t even a salad!"

"yeah, well, it’s hard to focus on what i’m eating when you two are…whatever this is!" he shot back, rolling his eyes but unable to hide his amused smile.

hiragi opened one eye, as he shifted in his seat. "you seem tense. maybe you could use a massage too, umemiya."

umemiya quickly held up his hands in mock surrender. "nope, i’m good! you two just keep that over there, and leave my...omurice in peace! thank you!"

if only you could see what kind of face hiragi was making while you massaged him, his eyes fluttered closed while his brows knitted together in a moment of pure bliss, then maybe you would have choked on your omurice too. 

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.