#this is so short forgive me

[cametotheshowinsd]

TAYLOR SWIFT: THE ERAS TOUR (2023)

[cherryfennec]

Summer Times

Hi! I'm finally back from my two week abroad trip!

[ghostbredtt]

shitpost between requests bcuz I miss them

what do you do with a baby that spawned in your trashcan

small thingies!! ALSO thank y'all so much for 500 subs?? it was 400 just a week ago wtf 😭

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Can you write how Geo would deal with a mc that is always sick? (Totally not cause I'm sick too)

My Remedy for your Malady. (All x Sick! MC/Reader)

Anon. First and foremost, I made you wait 5 1/2 days. I am truly, wholly sorry for this *humbly bows*. (▰︶︹︺▰)

Secondly, I decided that I'm gonna do this for all 7 of our characters, because Jess, Brit and Deryl deserve more attention. I hope you may forgive me for my lateness, and enjoy this fic nonetheless (btw get well soon if you're not already <33).

Also I know that Jess especially is shorter (literally teehee) than the others, but I'm gonna get the hang of her eventually. Same with Deryl. >:]

ALSO, you're in an established relationship with them, so that's why they have (very legal) access to your residence!

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Remedy: a medicine or treatment for a disease or injury.

Malady: a disease or ailment.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Geo was concerned when he found out you were ill.

When you didn't show up to school for the last few days, he texted you to find out why; to which you bluntly told him you felt like utter shit.

He doesn't pick up on the fact you're sick until you straight-up tell him.

Depending on what type of sick you are, he'll get the appropriate medicines/remedies and speed his way towards your home, hell, he might even skip archery, and he *never* skips archery.

Would rock up with food he knows shouldn't cause any problems or nausea for you and will probably make soup.

And you better fucking eat it.

He will feed it to you (reluctantly, but if you seriously can't do it yourself, then he'll manage).

Will ask you how the hell you fell ill anyway, and depending on your answer, he'll be either: Pissed (if you caught it from someone else), Or exasperated (if you stopped taking care of yourself or didn't equip yourself well enough to deal with the weather).

Will take care of you either way.

Will read to you in Japanese to help you sleep.

Will try to not lie near you if possible, unless absolutely needed. He does not plan on catching shit.

Will remain at your residence until you recover; unless he has classes that are either critically important and/or ones you're also in.

Will lend you his notes.

Will also take them back after a few days.

Will also just probably talk to you while you're bedridden, unless you cannot, in which case he'll simply watch you sleep, occasionally stroking your head and hair to try and comfort you.

He's trying his best, okay?

Sol will freak when he finds out you're sick.

Doesn't care what he's got on next, he's gonna go take care of you.

Will probably feel bad for not telling Hyugo anything about suddenly vanishing

, but he'll understand right?

Will spawn outside your home with: - Medicine, - Your favourite comfort food (if you can eat it without the fear of vomiting), - Probably will bring poetry and art with him, so you both have something to do (that's not him) when you're bedridden.

Will try and hold you if possible, doesn't mind if he gets your blessed germs on him.

You'll have to tell him that you'd worry for him if he fell ill, so he'll respect that.

But he will feed you. You don't have a say in that.

You're being babied now.

He's gonna make sure everything you want (and can have when sick), you'll have.

Is honestly okay with not going to any class, he'll just ask Hyugo for notes if he hasn't been MIAing.

Covers you in blankets if you've got a cold.

If you have a fever? Ice cream. >:]

Essentially tries to uplift your mood as much as humanely possible.

This guy will do anything for you. <33

Crowe will ensure that when he arrives at your home, you'll have everything you'll need.

Will cook your favourite food.

Will make you eat soup and light foods that are easy on the stomach.

Won't touch you, he doesn't want to fall ill, but will read to you.

He's got a soothing voice I just know it.

And he's 110% going to put you in a coma from how tired you feel when his voice hits just right.

Or maybe you're just fatigued because of your body waging a war against god-knows what kind of virus.

Will make you all forms of beverages to suit your illness, will also go out of his way to purchase any, after all, he's got the funding.

Will still go to classes, and takes extensive notes for you.

Will also tutor you the content if you're up for it.

Will stroke your hair if it's not sweaty, as a form of comfort.

Will make you feel as loved as possible.

Because that's what you deserve.

Brittney will be appalled.

How did you get sick? More importantly...who got you sick?

She's gonna yell at them.

Or fight them.

Maybe both.

Will buy a bunch of goodies for the both of you.

She can't cook for shit, so she'll just get takeout as food and order a fuckton of cough drops and Panadol.

You're both gonna be painting each others' nails.

And spilling gossip. Oh my god, she always had gossip.

Will give you notes to subjects that are majors, or ones you share.

Other than that can't offer much.

Will sit away from you to not get sick, but she'll 110% be supporting you emotionally.

Will probably give you a massage when you get better.

Idk she gives the vibe that she would.

Is the most aggressively supportive girlfriend ever.

She only wants you to recover ASAP, and to feel as content as someone who's sick can be. <333

Jess will be focused solely on you recovering as swiftly as humanely possible.

Is upset when she finds out you're fallen ill.

She'll drive to her home, grab the best shit she has and drives to your home.

Stays with you for days on end.

You've become her priority now, after all.

Jess is a very devoted (and lonely) girl, what can I say.

Will try and comfort you via reading to you, or listening to you talk about literally anything.

She just loves your company and you. Poor girl's been neglected her whole life.

She'll try her hardest to take care of you, and she does a very good job. (Ask Brittney teehee)

You're more than glad to have her.

And she to have you.

Hyugo will be astounded.

You? Got sick?

Why?

Did someone make you sick???? (if so teehee someone's getting food poisoning~)

He's at your home, with everything.

Literally everything.

Blankets, movies, games, medicine, puns, your favourite food and whatever else he deems necessary.

Will hug you if you're not aggressively sneezing/coughing.

Will watch movies with you on the couch with you lying on his plush fucking thighs.

Says the most stupid shit in Japanese (such as teaching you how to hide a body) and making it sound like flirting.

Tells you jokes and puns to make you feel better, until you laugh too hard that is and almost die.

Will make food for you.

Will ramble on about random shit to you, or listen to you talk (if you can).

Literally just seeing you content is more than enough for him.

Deryl will be SHOOKETH.

He will sprint to your fucking house. He doesn't care.

You're his only priority now.

Will magically appear at your home, and immediately hugs you.

You can be fucking dying, he doesn't care.

You're getting squashed.

Will be asking if you're okay 24/7

Until he realises he forgot to bring food.

Then he runs to get it, along with tablets, Panadol, all that jazz.

Like RUNS.

HE WILL RUN.

HE IS A FAST MOTHERFUCKER.

FAST!!!!!

Then he gets tired, so by the time he gets to the store, gets the food (and the 'goods'), he's gonna just call a fucking cab and crash at your place. (he forgot takeout existed lol)

He doesn't mind, and frankly, neither do you. The food and snacks was awesome (well, what you could eat anyway).

Will try his absolute best to take care of you, but often gets carried away with his energy. Often talks and rambles to you while you happily lay in bed next to him and listen.

Will call Geo or Jess for how to make a warm soup to feed you.

Then it becomes 'we've got Masterchefs at home'.

Shit goes crazy when Deryl's around tbh.

And you're more than happy to enjoy the ride (in more ways than one ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)).

[nomazee]

enough to make me cry

blade is your only roommate, your only friend, and your only way home from this terrible party you found yourself in.

blade x gn reader — 3.3k — college & roommates au!, very americanized college experiences, frat parties, mentions of drinking & vomiting, could be read as platonic but there are definitely romantic undertones, feelings of inadequacy/being out of place, hurt/comfort, social anxiety, blade is probably ooc i'm gonna be so honest, mild kafka & reader friendship, erggg im probably missing something

notes: no i have to be so honest blade is probably completely out of character i have not played a single side quest with him in it but i just think he has reluctant roommate-to-best friend potential and i wanted to pour that into a fic,,, this is mostly unintelligible but i did proofread! love you all

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

A warm hand rests on your shoulder, and the first thing that you think is Blade’s hands are supposed to be cold.

It’s really pathetic. You’re somewhere in a stupid frat house, the thrumming of music around you. There’s the flashing colors and sounds of Mario Kart on the TV, the smell of puke (probably yours) and corona lite, and a hand on your shoulders that you’ve discerned is not your roommate, Blade’s. 

Looking to the side, you follow the hand (painted, manicured nails, definitely still not Blade’s), and it leads up to an arm up to a shoulder up to a face, and—oh. 

“You’re—” you pause, getting your words in order before you puke them up, “you’re Blade’s pretty lady friend?” It’s supposed to come out as a statement, but leans more to a question. She looks down, a bit of a teasing grin on her face, but her eyes are a little soft so you trust her. 

“Is that what he calls me?” she jokes.

“No, I’m— I came up with that.” If you had any dignity left in you, you’d be embarrassed to admit that to her. Unfortunately, you’re pretty sure that Kafka (the pretty lady friend in question) just held your hair back and wiped your face as you puked into a frat-house toilet, flushing your dignity away with your dinner. Your eyes burn with tears and mortification, and you pray that only Kafka saw your embarrassing mishaps.

“I called him to pick you up,” she tells you, already looking away from you and scanning the room as if looking for something, or someone. “I would take you home myself, but I’ve got some things to take care of. And I’m assuming you didn't bring your keys with you?” 

A quick pat-down of your pockets confirms that, yes, you somehow managed to leave your keys at home, the one personal necessity that you were supposed to bring besides your phone. Which, thankfully, you do at least have.

“Umm, the…” you mutter, tongue tangling uselessly as you try to find a way out of here without facing the impending doom of Blade’s aggravated scolding and his I told you so’s. 

A week ago, you went to him with an invite to this frat party and begged him to come with you, saying something like You don’t go out much, this is your chance! He’d adamantly refused, calling it a bad idea and rolling his eyes whenever you brought it up. But you were stubborn, and you wanted to have a fun college experience, so you forced him to drive you to the party with the promise of paying for his next gas payment and getting your own ride back home at the end of the night. 

“I can go,” you finally tell Kafka, mind stringing along memories and thoughts and alarm bells of get your ass home before you have to sit in an awful car ride with Blade, “It’s, like, a fifteen minute walk, don’t call him.” 

“It’s a little too late for that, kid,” Kafka drawls, amusement in her words. She’s smiling down at you, and you’re reminded of how small you feel. “He’s already on the way.” 

“No!” you protest, a little too loudly, but not loud enough to be heard over the thumping of music and bodies and voices. “It’s— Kafka, please, just tell him to turn around, I really don’t want him to deal with me today.” 

If you knew her even less, you’d misinterpret the twitch in her expression as concern—but you’re not too dumb, so you read it as amusement. “Trust me, he’s not going to have a problem with that. You’ll be fine.” 

Whatever that means. Kafka’s too cryptic for your liking, but you won’t complain. She wiped up your vomit from the dirty bathroom tiles and stayed with you to make sure you didn't get trampled, and she didn't complain about any of that. In a week, when you have enough strength to face her again, you’ll treat her to a good, expensive, flaky pastry. She seems like the kind of person who would love those. 

Her phone buzzes with a text notification, and she clicks her tongue, standing up and pulling you with her. Her hand is still warm, seeping through the sleeve of your shirt as she takes you by the forearm, gentle but guiding. Your stomach churns at the thought of seeing Blade, the thought of him seeing you like this. Freshly-puked-out with a nasty stomachache all because of a party that he told you not to go to. 

You hold back your protests as Kafka leads you through the still-crowded frat house. What time is it? Has nobody gotten bored yet, seriously? At least you didn't kill the mood by running to the bathroom and weeping into the toilet. It seems like nobody noticed, except for Kafka, and you don’t know if that should make you feel comforted or just more upset. 

The cool air of the night hits you as you step through the front door, eyes tracking your feet as you walk down the concrete steps. You see the silhouette of Blade’s ugly blue car in your peripheral vision, but you don’t want to look up in fear of seeing the disappointment on his face so soon. He’s going to rip you a new one, and then call you a slob and kick you out of the apartment and say I can’t have a party fiend living with me even though this was your first party ever, honest. 

You barely register that you’ve reached the passenger side of Blade’s car, only coming back to awareness when Kafka opens the door for you and starts nudging you into the seat. A really pathetic part of you wants to grab onto her arm and cry hard enough that she just relents and lets you walk home, but you’re already half into the passenger seat, looking everywhere but Blade. 

“Take care of them, won’t you, Bladie?” Kafka commands lightly, her hand leaving your arm as you get situated and buckled up in the car. Blade lets out a little huff in response and your stomach sinks. He’s already annoyed. 

The car ride to your apartment is only five minutes at this time of night. You just have to survive five minutes in silence and pray that he doesn’t tear into you and scold you like a disappointed parent. A glance at the clock on the car’s console confirms that it’s half past midnight. What the fuck. What were you even doing at the party for that long, besides vomiting and crying? 

The car rumbles, exhaust sputtering a little bit as Blade pulls out from the side of the street and drives slowly, carefully, as if not to rattle you, and you really just want him to speed up and throttle the car around so you feel more guilty about waking him up in the middle of the night to come pick you up. Blade goes to bed at eleven, the latest. You can’t imagine why Kafka thought it would be a good idea to call him, of all people, but then you remember that you kind of don’t have any other friends on campus. Your chest tightens at the thought. 

Blade makes some kind of sniffling noise, his way of trying to initiate some kind of conversation. There’s not even any music playing, because he always drives in dead silence because he’s abnormal, and on any other day you’d tease him about it like you always do. You see him turn his head to you in the corner of your eye, but you refuse to acknowledge him. You wish he’d just start scolding you, yelling at you or something. 

Tears prickle behind your eyes, painfully so, but your hands tighten around each other in your lap as you will yourself to not cry like a baby in front of your roommate. He lets out another sigh, but it doesn’t sound angry, just tired, and somehow that makes you feel worse. 

“What were you guys even drinking?” is his question of voice, and it’s the one question you didn't want him to ask, and you can’t help it when the tears spill over and you bring your hand up to wipe them away frantically, hiccuping a little bit as your gut churns. 

“What—” Blade stutters, and he never stutters, and you see him whip his head around to look at you, crying into your hands over a simple question, and you just want to leave the car and walk home like you told Kafka you would do. He pulls over to the side of some residential street. There’s a dog barking in a yard and wind chimes clinking together, and you think of your handmade bottle cap wind chime hung in the balcony of yours and Blade’s apartment, and it just makes you cry more. 

The car comes to a full stop. Blade puts it in park and turns completely to you. You spare a quick glance at him through the gaps between your fingers, and there’s something like worry on his face, which you’ve never seen before. His face is pinched, lips parted as if wanting to say something, but he can’t. He’s waiting for you. 

“I didn't drink anything, Blade,” you sob, feeling miserable at the state of yourself, at how you went to a frat party with nobody you knew and just walked around like a lost child, too scared to drink or talk to anyone, too anxious to say a word. “Not even a shot, or a sip, nothing from the fridge. It was so stupid, you were right, okay? It was a stupid idea, and I shouldn’t have gone.” Your breath catches in your throat, and the car is dead quiet as Blade lets your words sink in. 

You try not to make so much noise when you cry, but you’re sniveling and wiping your face and wishing that he would just stop looking at you like that. You can still see the ruby-red of his eyes even when you can’t bear to look up at him, and it makes you so viscerally upset. 

Blade is beautiful, really, and it makes you so upset that he looks better than you right now despite him being dragged right out of bed by Kafka’s phone call with a request to pick you up just minutes ago. You, who spent hours selecting an outfit, just to feel inadequate and wholly ugly the minute you walked through the door. It felt like you were back in middle school, spending hours with your parents picking out an outfit to a school dance, looking through ties and pants and shoes, just to show up and feel both overdressed and underdressed, feel like a fool, feel like you just can’t look the way everyone else does. Like something is always a little wrong. 

“Kafka said that you got sick. You didn't drink anything? You’re sure?” 

“No,”  you confirm pitifully, wanting him to just drop the topic and drive the rest of the way home and never talk about this again. “I was just anxious, and I puked like an idiot. Kafka helped me, she was the only one that I knew at the party. I don’t know. I don’t remember anymore. I was just anxious.” 

He says your name, not unkindly, but with a prying tone that just makes a fresh wave of tears stream down your face in rivulets. “Why would you go if you didn't know anyone?” 

“I don't know!” you shout, heated with embarrassment. You’re acting like a child, throwing a tantrum and crying and shouting in Blade’s car. The seatbelt is too tight on you. You fiddle with it, pulling it from the juncture of your neck and shoulder and loosening it, scratching your bitten nails against the scratchy cloth and looking out of the car window so that you can avoid Blade’s awful, terrible, intrusive gaze. 

“I just wanted to be normal, or something. I don’t know anybody from any of my classes. I don’t talk to anyone from my major. And then I got the invite for the party somehow and I just thought it would be fun. I don’t know, Blade, I know I should’ve listened to you, I’m sorry.” 

“Stop,” he says firmly, fully turned to you now, as if he wants you to look back at him, to listen to whatever he’s going to say, and that’s the one thing you don’t want to do. You hate that he’s being kind. You wish he’d be sarcastic and mean and cruel, bite into you and feed off your self-pity. But he’s being nice, nice in the same way that he’s nice when he buys the right brand of milk for you (because the others make you sick, and the taste is different), or when he drives you places in his car when it’s raining so that you don’t have to take the buses everywhere, or when he comes home with your ridiculous coffee order that costs a hellacious amount of money with all of your substitutions and additions and flavorings. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says resolutely, leaving no room for argument, “Just— I didn't know you were feeling like that. I would’ve gone with you if you told me you needed someone. I assumed you were going with a friend.” 

You don’t respond with I don’t have any friends, because you’re pretty sure that’s clear enough by now, and you don’t want to confirm what’s already been confirmed a million times over just from the way you act. The way you cling to yours and Blade’s apartment, the way you never spend a second longer than you need to in any of your classes, the way that sometimes, when Blade goes out for class or work, you sit on the couch in silence with your laptop out, doing your work for the week and checking the clock and taking naps so that you don’t have to feel so alone for so long. 

“You didn't want to go,” you say instead, “I wasn’t going to make you just because I’m— I don’t know.” 

“I would’ve gone for you,” he tells you, really tells you, with a force in his words, like he wants to drive the point into you with a stake, driven right through your heart. “I would do a lot of things if you asked. You just need to ask.” 

You don’t— you really don’t want to think about what that means. What he means. You rip your eyes away from the car window and turn to face him. He’s not too close. You almost wish he could be closer, but you would suffocate under the pressure in your stomach and behind your eyes. 

He shouldn’t say things like that, things like You just need to ask, because you’d ask for a lot if given the chance. You’d ask for him to come to parties with you, stay by your side, let you put a hand on his shoulder and guide him around another disgusting frat house as if you know what you’re doing. You’d ask him to sleep in the same bed as you some nights, just a foot away from each other, backs turned to each other but still close enough that you can feel the unnatural coldness that radiates off of Blade. 

You’d ask him to introduce you to Kafka and that other girl they hang out with, to say something stupid and funny like This is my abhorrent roommate, be nice to them, and that way you’d have more contacts in your phone that aren't just Blade and your parents and two old high school friends who you haven’t spoken to in a year. You’d ask him to be a lot more than just a plus-one to a party full of people you’ve never met. 

“I just want to go home,” you breathe out, a guilty confession burning your gums and leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “I’m sorry.” 

“Stop saying sorry,” he asserts for the second time tonight, making your lungs squeeze as you puff out a tired exhale. Blade turns back in his seat, taking the car out of park and heading back onto the road—driving slowly, yet again, avoiding cracks and potholes in the road. “You need to eat something. You’ll wake up with a hellish headache if you go to bed dehydrated.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“I said it, so it’s true,” he says petulantly, turning the car down into a road that’s definitely not in the direction of your apartment building. To your hidden delight, the glowing sign of a twenty-four-seven ice cream store comes into view, and you sit up just a little bit. Blade slows the car as he turns into the drive-thru, glancing at you with an eyebrow half-raised. 

“What do you want? I’ll order for you.” 

“I don’t have my wallet,” you admit, just a little bit embarrassed. “I didn't even bring my keys with me. Do you think they take Apple Pay?” 

A breathy laugh escapes him, and you catch sight of a dimple pressed into his cheek, and you want to press your thumb into it and look at his smile, just for a little longer. “Don’t be dumb. I’m paying,” he tells you, the same way he has every time he pays for your cafe drink, or when he comes home from work with your favorite, and says You’re broke enough without having to pay for these drinks, don’t pay me back in that snippy way he shows his care. 

You ask for a medium vanilla milkshake, with sprinkles, and he gets you a large instead, which you’re more than grateful for. He refuses to let you look at the receipt for the total cost, and hands you the milkshake with a comical severity that you often see in him. The sweet drink washes away any bitter taste left in your mouth, and you feel a little better, a little nicer in your haphazard party outfit and under Blade’s fleeting gaze. 

A deep sigh escapes you, one of relief, when the car finally parks at your apartment building. Blade puts a cold hand between your shoulder blades, unobtrusive and leading, and it’s a comforting contrast from the heat lingering on your skin from the party and the closed car. It feels right, more in-place than Kafka’s warm hands were when she wiped your face and kept you steady, though she was just as gentle. 

Blade all but tosses you onto the couch, claiming that it’s much too late for a shower and he’d rather not deal with you collapsing from exhaustion in the tub. You relent easily, the exhaustion of the night hitting you and soaking into your limbs. 

“I’ll let you sleep on the couch,” he says, and it’s a good and kind thing, because he knows that sometimes you hate your bedroom because it’s just too empty, and the constant sound filtering into the living room puts you at ease. He never lets you sleep on the couch, because it’s bad for your back, and he jokes about you developing adult onset scoliosis with the awful way you sleep. Letting you do it, just this once, is another one of his small mercies. 

The TV is on, humming at a low volume, and your legs are thrown across Blade’s lap. You’re shocked that he’s willing to fall asleep with you like this, but he’s kind, sarcastic and biting but kind all the same, as much as he loathes to admit it. It’s not too lonely, you decide, hearing the bottle cap wind chimes on your balcony clink together in dissonant harmonies. 

(There’s a missing text from a new contact on your phone when you wake up, coming from pretty lady friend, extending an invite to brunch in two days, and you kick your legs on the couch in giddy excitement, thinking about how you’ll rope Blade into coming with you, too.)

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

taglist: @tragedy-of-commons

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[unhetalia]

People don't realise it, but Alfred is actually a lot more soft-hearted and forgiving than his twin. Matthew's more personable, for sure, but he's cutthroat AND he holds grudges.

Baby Alfred chose Arthur because he saw Arthur was sad. He chose to comfort a stranger over FOOD, which we know Alfred loves. He barely hesitated.

I like to think Matthew watched Francis be sad about losing to Arthur for two weeks before finally deciding, well, his food DOES look good...

When someone wrongs Alfred he's pretty okay with either ignoring it or forgiving it; Matthew is taking notes and treating it like it's a personal insult and he is NOT letting it go. (When Japan attacked Pearl Harbour, Matthew had Canada declaring war before America even did - man does NOT fuck around about defending his baby brother when he needs to).

Alfred doesn't get a free pass, either. If Matthew does something hurtful or annoying, Alfred barely flinches and just moves on. He forgives and forgets easily. Mattie is HOLDING A GRUDGE and bringing it up for the next twenty five years. Sometimes, he goes too far in retaliating, and then Alfred is crying and Matthew loses the high ground and feels guilty. But after Alfred's done crying he's quick to forgive, so Matthew's not really learning any lessons on restraint.

When you wrong him and you're NOT his brother... well, philosophically, is it really murder if you know they'll come back to life?

[mosaickiwi]

Hi, hope you had a great new years ^^

If it's okay can I request a fic of Redacted teaching Angel how to ride their bike or just Angel just riding their bike in general?

Hiiii my new year was good! I hope yours (and valentine's,easter,etc) was good as well!!

the date callin me out for how long it's been since jan i'm sobbing /silly

I feel like emo boy would be extremely thorough about teaching them so... Maybe I'll do a part two where Angel actually drives... 👉👈

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~A Riding Lesson~

[REDACTED] was in their personal garage doing some maintenance on his bike when you arrived a little early for your date. All he could offer in greeting were a few sweet words and a quick kiss, due to their grease stained fingers. You chose to silently observe them for a while, sitting at the bench they left their toolkit on. You found yourself leaning forward, watching with pure fascination.

There was precision to each movement as they went about their work with expert hands. Were it not for the occasional smiles he threw your way when he picked up a different tool every so often—smiles that somehow still sent your heart aflutter after so long—you would’ve been completely absorbed.

You'd always been curious about how it worked. But there was never really a good time to mention said curiosity. Especially since you were more focused on holding on for dear life whenever they drove somewhere, even at a snail’s pace. You supposed now could be a good time.

“Can you teach me how to ride it?” you suddenly asked once he came over to pack his tools away in the box at your side.

Their scarred hand that was idly twirling a wrench stilled as he looked down at you, light blue eyes glittering with the beginnings of something. “...Yeah, love? Y’mind saying that again f’me?”

Much too late to take it back, you noticed your mistake. You were so absorbed in your thoughts that it felt like you were picking up a conversation. In reality, it hadn't even started. “The bike, Ren,” you hurriedly corrected yourself. “Teach me how to ride the bike.”

“‘Course. My bike,” [REDACTED] nodded along and continued putting away the tools. The smirk on their face was unmistakable, but they surprisingly held back from teasing you any longer. “Maybe a quick lesson, then.”

“Really?” You perked up.

He nodded towards the bike with an amused smile as he closed the toolbox and wiped off his hands. “We’ve got time.”

Excited as could be, you hopped over and quickly sat in the cushioned seat, immediately fidgeting with the handlebars. It already seemed weird being in the front, let alone by yourself. But your heart got a little louder when your dark haired lover sat behind you on the bike.

You were certain he could feel how you shivered as his hands wrapped securely around your waist and his head rested on top of yours. Stumbling for words, you almost shouted, “So! …Where am I taking us?”

“Nowhere. Y’need to know where everything is first, Angel.”

“Boooo.”

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

After fifteen grueling minutes of quizzing, he finally agreed to let you ride around the parking lot. They hopped off the back of the bike, swinging the key around their finger.  

Without his weight to balance you, you suddenly felt a little unsure of yourself. You thought he was going to ride with you, so you asked, “Did you only sit on the bike to hug me?”

“Yeah, y’looked so cute I couldn’t help m’self,” he admitted shamelessly. They didn't give you the key just yet, merely circled the bike a few times with a careful gaze. “Clutch?”

You frowned. The quiz was supposed to be over. “Left lever.”

“Throttle?”

You remembered that one easily. He always revved the engine with it before leaving. “Right handle," you said confidently as you grabbed it.

“Front brake?”

“Uhh…” you started, quickly panicking at the resigned look in their eye. “Right pedal.”

“That's the rear brake. Maybe next time.” They gave a swift denial of your short-lived dream.

You stubbornly stayed put on the bike, though your hands were no longer holding the handles, instead resting in front of you on the seat. “I could drive it down to the street, at least."

“Y’really think so? It’s a lot t’handle,” he cautioned. He reached in front of you with the key in hand, quickly putting it in the ignition. The engine purred in that quiet way you were used to.

You watched as [REDACTED] held firmly on the clutch at one handle, and slowly guided your hand to the throttle on the other. With the lightest turn of your wrist, the engine roared loud, vibrating the seat more and more. But he turned it even further and you could hardly hear yourself think.

It made you nervous. If you weren’t sure where the break was—or which one to use—it’d really spell disaster. “Okay, I get the point,” you sighed. They let go of your hand and the engine died back down to its usual purr. “I’ll try harder to remember where everything is. No crashing your bike into a stop sign for now.”

“Good. Just wan’ you t'keep that pretty little head right where it is, love,” he hummed and kissed said forehead. “Now, scoot. Or we can head upstairs so ‘can teach ya how to really—”

“I meant the bike!!”

[demigod-of-the-agni]

This is what happens when you complete the "Remembering the Past" quests immediately after you're accused of murder

[deoidesign]

vampire and werewolf sitting in a tree

time trav e l i n g

first comes. trying to kill eachother then comes... learning you're his dead ex-lover then comes marriage!

(you can buy the book this scene is from for $15 it's really good. it's the fan favorite of the series!)

[cestacruz]

And if i burned down my kitchen failing to cook something up, then what? Anyway [KnY AU]

[quillicity]

they r so silly to me

[amvro]

pairing: amuro tooru x reader

summary: he is home late (again) but you love to stay up for him

cw: i would not say suggestive but a lot of kissing implied ? IDK IM SORRY, it’s very short

It wasn’t rare for you to be staying up waiting for him to come home, but tonight he was especially late coming home and he truly did not expect you to still be up. The clock almost ticked 3:30am and he truly wished he didn’t have to stay out so late if he knew you would still be up. He was going to ask why you were still up and tell you about how you should’ve just slept without him, but he knew you would tell him you would be too worried to fall asleep regardless. 

“I’m so sorry I was so late,” he said, apologetically. “But really, next time you shouldn’t mind me. It’s far too late.”

“And it’s far too late for you to be out with no one to greet you when you come home,” you replied with a soft smile. Gosh he was in love with you. “Waiting for you to come home is one of my happiest times, at least let me do this much. Besides, it’s a Friday we get to sleep in tomorrow.”

And you were absolutely correct. Although he’d tell you every single time to go ahead and sleep, it still warmed his heart when he saw you reading a book or scrolling through your phone with a warm tea, waiting for him to come home. The way your face would brighten up when he came home was truly the only thing that could heal him from a long day at work.

“I’ll hop in the shower real quick, so go to sleep okay? It’s still not good to be up this late,” he said as he took off his coat and put his stuff down, getting ready to step into the bathroom.

“Wait,” you said, almost subconsciously.

“What is it, love?”

“Oh, um,” you said, you hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You looked up at him slightly embarrassed. “....kiss?”

A faint blush covered his face as his eyes narrowed and lips pursed. He did not understand how you managed to make his heart flutter from such simple words after all this time, but he did understand that this wasn’t going to go away. He walked right back to you and pressed a kiss on your lips. He was going to kiss you again when he resisted the temptation and kissed you on your forehead instead. 

“Why not?” you asked quietly. You were going to kill him if you kept this up.

“Because I’m not going to be able to stop at this rate,” he said, but you went and kissed him instead.

“But I don’t want you to...” you said. That was it, he was giving in. Saving the country was a whole lot easier of a challenge than the ones you gave him it seemed.

“Okay, now you’ve done it,” he said, kissing you again. 

The shower will have to wait a little. 

[azurejacques]

Chiron isn’t training Achilles and Patroclus to be heroes or better warriors or anything like that- he’s giving them them the boyhood- the life and opportunities denied to those fated to be heroes in the Homeric sense. Achilles is promised undwindling glory but has a most short-lived life. Patroclus is doomed to fall to Hector before Achilles can die. They will never get so do what they want to do, never explore their interests and passions, learn about the world and it’s beauty, learn empathy and respect for nature, learn to heal as well as harm, and be able to simply exist as people and not subjects of prophecies. And Chiron has the power to give that back to them, if even just for a moment. He teaches them those things- empathy, medicine, worldly knowledge, music, folklore, history, myth. I’m sure as shit he noticed the change after they both realized they had feelings for the other, but he didn’t say anything because of course he didn’t- when else would they be able to so innocently be in love and get to truly enjoy that beautiful part of life; without war and death and murder and guilt and prophecy and fear hanging over them?

He doesn’t teach them to be heroes—they already are— he teaches them to be people.

[fandxmslxt69]

Alrighty! Lunch break time! Thots incoming!!!

*Ehem* Imagine, if you will, being tangled in the sheets with Loki. You’re both in Asgard, and the stars are just starting to twinkle in the night sky. There’s a soft breeze wafting in through the ornate palace windows, and the two of you are comfortable in each other’s embrace… making love, obviously~

I can’t stop thinking about the way the soft satin sheets would slip around us. So soft and delicate between your fingers amidst your throes of passion. There’s something inherently godly about it, I think. Like, Loki wants to worship you like the goddess he sees you as. The whole lounging while being hand fed grapes kind of vibe, if that makes sense.

Anyways, when you’re done, you’re not really done. You just keep rolling over for the next round until the sun peeks from the horizon…

So, those are my thots for today! 🤭

oh beloved...i am thinking thinking things....

a littleeee different but i loved the hazy 'drunk on love and pleasure' vibes and i just couldnt help it

more under the cut (warnings: silly cute fluffy SMUT.)

You hum sleepily, feeling the press of your lover's soft lips on your shoulder, trailing down your arm. You had settled into bed just a little ago after a few...exciting rounds with Loki in the shower.

The bed dipped as he settled into bed behind you, arms wrapped around your waist. You were immediately hyperaware of the fact that he had decided not to put on any clothing after stepping out of the shower. It didn't help that you wore nothing either.

You wiggle around, turning to face him with a happy smile. "Hi," You whisper, a stupid smile growing on your lips.

He smiled back, and oh it took your breath away. Something about today was very different; you couldn't get enough of each other. Loki ended up cancelling all his plans for the day, and you both stayed inside, tossing and turning and getting drunk on the feeling of one another. And yet after eternity, you remained constantly bewitched by Loki. You could never grow tired of him, of the feeling of him.

His ethereal beauty, especially his smile. The way his eyes twinkled with that telltale mischief, the ease and comfort that oozed off him, the trademark smirk that seemed reserved for you.

You snuggled closer to him and his hold on you tightened as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Hello darling wife,"

You ran a hand over his chest, enjoying the way his muscles contracted under your touch. You felt so safe, so full of joy in the comfort of your bed.

"Hi," You said again. Loki chuckled softly, his hand drawing circles on the dip of your hips. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

It was obviously the wrong move, because it wasn't for another thirty seconds before Loki was kissing you senseless; all tongue and lazy, messy kisses. It made you squirm as you rolled over on top of him and he sat up slightly, hands roaming your body slowly. Your hands raked through his messy curls, soft pants and groans escaping the two of you.

You could feel him growing hard, and you knew this was how it would go for the rest of the night. You'd wake up in pain tomorrow, and deliciously sore, but you also knew that meant Loki would stay with you for the day again.

You moan quietly, grinding yourself against Loki's length.

Tomorrow could wait. Outside, the night was still young, stars beginning to twinkle on Asgard's sky.

You could reconsider your choices when the sun returns to the sky. For now, you kissed Loki deeper as his hands planted themselves firmly on your hips, sure to leave marks to be added to ones already covering your body.

For now, you could just get lost in the feeling of your husband as he entered you slowly, a deep moan rumbling through him, and the pure look of pleasure on his face as you lifted yourself and slowly sank back down.

For tonight, you could just stay drunk on each other.

[just-null]

I just discorvered your blog and whilst I am primarily a choso enjoyer I do think noritoshi is also a really cool character, and I really hope he and choso get a chance for a proper interaction at some point! I'd love to know what your opinion is of choso and how you think he would interact with noritoshi :) also your art is really pretty

[UPDATE] this post was made before Gege revealed that Choso was a shit teacher and before the Kamos ever interacted. This was just my assumptions at the time.

I also want to see them interact... strap in fam, bc I never shut the fuck up

I may describe Choso as a bit OOC since I don't know much of the manga, but I do know bits and pieces!! also what the wiki told me, heh.

[Choso thoughts]

Choso feels like that big brother who's stricter when training/teaching, but lenient when doing literally anything else involving his younger sibs. Although he's wearing a bored expression the entire time, he's actually super happy when around them.

I really like big brother characters so he might climb up my favorites when I see him in action. from that one popular screenshot of him giving Jogo a goofy smirk, I can tell he's got this tiny side of playfulness to him. He can be annoying if he wants to, and he sometimes does that with his brothers. 10/10 guy!

I've seen fanart and some headcanons of Choso, and I can firmly say that he's a green flag. He's the guy who would fix you without trying. HE'S NOT DOING ANYTHING, YOU JUST FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO CHANGE FOR THE BETTER FOR HIM.. OR SO I HEAR

[more details under the cut!]

[Choso + Noritoshi interaction thoughts/headcanons?]

Choso and Noritoshi are like super distant cousins/uncle/nephew right?? They came from the same jujutsu hitler, so Noritoshi is like Choso’s many greats cousin/nephew. Be fr though, if there's someone younger than Choso and is related to him in some way, that's an instant lil sibling of his. WHICH IS WHY, their relationship has two sides to it. (imo)

First up is the teacher/student aspect. 

It's no secret that Noritoshi is weaker compared to Choso, therefore, he'd want to train under him. Choso is a strict teacher, he wants his lil bros to be able to protect themselves if he's unable to be there for them, which is perfect since that's Noritoshi's comfort zone. He wants to hone his abilities to reach or even surpass Choso, so he needs someone who'd nitpick him. 

I can see them sparring, and Noritoshi having an awe struck face every time he gets taken down with a new move Choso has yet to teach him. "How did you do that? You must teach me that next, sensei!"

Choso would probably chortle and lightly nudge Noritoshi with his foot, but internally, he's screaming. Imagine your little brother saw you do something cool, and he's shouting at you to show him how to do it. That's the same feeling Choso would get. Of course, he'd show him eventually, but Noritoshi needs to get the hang of the moves he's tasked with right now before adding more to his plate.

They're both beaming with joy when Noritoshi shows progress. Well- as much as two guys who barely emote can beam. Noritoshi is proud of himself for constantly improving and Choso proud of his lil bro for getting stronger!!!!!!

I imagine they bicker often but when they're in teacher/student mode, they rarely cross each other. Noritoshi knows he's training under a teacher and Choso is teaching his lil bro how to beat ass.

The second half of their relationship is the.. older brother/older(?) brother aspect.

whereas Noritoshi is getting little brother treatment from Choso but doesn't want it and Choso annoys/coddles Noritoshi like the best big brother he is... also my favorite aspect, as shown

Noritoshi is independent. He likes his space and prefers to do things on his own. Because of this he involuntarily became the big brother of Kyoto Tech. People go to him for advice, criticism, help with assignments, and when needing to make a responsible decision, they think, "What would Noritoshi do?" You can say he got comfortable with the role of "big brother." 

So when this new guy comes along who's revealed to be family, Noritoshi deems him as a higher authority. Noritoshi's quick to go back to his old ways of respecting his superiors and it's not that difficult. Choso is older, stronger, experienced, and generally a lot more capable than Noritoshi. However, the downside is that Noritoshi would never grow a close bond with Choso if he kept this up. You can't tell your boss your worries, that's not proper! Choso, knowing this, told Noritoshi to knock off the formalities pretty early on.

I imagine this is the first time they'd ever bicker. Choso tries to get Noritoshi to loosen up a little because they're family, but Noritoshi protests that it's because they're family that he should show extra respect!

Choso probably told Noritoshi to call him brother/uncle or something so they can grow comfortable around each other. Let's be honest, Noritoshi calls his mom "mother," you won't catch him dead calling someone who he currently sees as a superior "brother." They compromise by just using each other’s name without honorifics.

Now that the introductions were out of the way, Noritoshi was now stuck with Choso coddling him. Sure it was nice at first, someone in his family who doesn't yell at him for every mistake he makes and genuinely cares for him, but.. Noritoshi feels… annoyed. Choso reminds Noritoshi of a more tolerable Todo, but he feels like Choso still treats him like Noritoshi needs him. He doesn't need Choso around, but he keeps seeing him everywhere! 

It'd be entertaining to see their dynamic. Noritoshi, the younger brother who doesn't wanna be the younger one and Choso, using that to his advantage to grow close to Noritoshi, by being the annoying older brother. He never takes it too far. just far enough that Noritoshi is saying stuff like “Preposterous!” or “This is slanderous!!” I imagine Noritoshi takes it as a personal defeat when Choso brings him food or treats him to an outing. He allowed himself to get little bro’ed..

Noritoshi would try to take the leadership role again and "big brother" Choso back in a respectful way. Maybe suggesting things he should do. Choso probably lets out breathy laughs and pats Noritoshi's head when he tries this. Then promptly goes back to doing whatever he was doing. Choso sees this as "my little brother scolding me for something." Another defeat for Noritoshi..

I can see these two bickering about the smallest things. And by bickering, I mean Choso annoying Noritoshi because he wants to take care of his little bro!!! and Noritoshi getting upset because he's not!!! little!!! he can do it himself!!!

I feel like Choso and Noritoshi would get comfortable with this though...

Choso would get a side of Noritoshi he doesn't often give to most people. They have a special bond that unites them both. Whether it be their cursed techniques or their similar childhoods or some other third option, they stick by each other. The same is true for Noritoshi, he finally has someone that cares about him and not his status. While yes, Choso can be annoying at times, Noritoshi is growing used to having him around. It would seem too quiet if Choso wasn't making him annoyed in some way.. 

of course, they'd have their calm moments. Having siblings is both a hurricane and shallow waters.

These two are stoic fucks, so I can see them communicating wordlessly. The full fucking package like nodding, shoulder shrugs, huffs, BLINKS, you fucking name it and they just had an entire conversation. They say they make it obvious on their faces, but literally, no one can tell. Some people (Arata) think they speak telepathically..........

I hinted at it in the little doodle above, but Choso would probably help Noritoshi with calligraphy. Choso is OLD so he's got to have seen some old old Japanese cursive... He'd use his knowledge to help Noritoshi improve!!!

The whole thing with Choso cooking for Noritoshi.. Its what older siblings do to coax their younger sibs out of their shell. Who doesn't like free food? Choso learns pretty quick from what i've seen and with coffee being Noritoshi’s favorite drink, he's using that.

Choso: there’s a coffee shop downtown.

Noritoshi: what

Choso: we’re going together

Noritoshi: I never agreed to this

Choso: don’t forget your jacket, it could get cold.

And then they go.

Noritoshi enjoys company if it doesn't bother him. So if Choso walked into his room and sat down to do something quietly, Noritoshi wouldn't bat an eye. and That's how they hang out sometimes, just in the same room and they both have a blast.

this one is just me fucking around but I can see Choso asking for advice on how to approach Noritoshi like a father asking how to approach his teen kid. Noritoshi is similar, but he's asking why this guy is doting on him and being annoying. They ask around because I doubt either of them know how to use a phone. Noritoshi is old-fashioned while Choso is just old.

hmm... I can't decide whether Choso would use Noritoshi's name more often to attach the name to a better person or give Noritoshi a nickname to avoid using it....... I want to lean into the former but hmm......

that's all I got! This could be so ooc but fuck it! I like it. Sorry if this was all over the place, i was throwing spaghetti at the wall!!!!

[my ranting, its not important skip this. theres also slight spoilers]

im sitting here analyzing your wording. youre implying they HAVENT met properly?????? ITS BEEN A FUCKING WHILE. LET THEM MEET AGAIN WHAT THE FUCK IM PUNCHING THE WALL. WASNT THERE AN ENTIRE REVEAL THAT YUJI WAS HIS SUPER DISTANT LIL BRO implying that he also has some relation so to noritoshi too which is super cute now that i think about it.. stoic bitch with a sunshine guy who wont shut the fuck up... wait i love that sm..... but regardless WHAT THE FUCK??? LITTLE BROTHER MY ASS.GEGE YOU HAD NORITOSHI RIGHT THERE. FYM NEW LITTLE BRO YUJI. NORITOSHI IS GOING THROUGH IT LIKE EVERYONE ELSE BUT THIS GUY IS ALONE... I JUST WANT HIM TO HAVE SOME FAMILY BRO. GEGE WHAT THE FUCK. AND CHOSO HAVING THOSE DREAMS AND FANTASIES OF HIS BROTHERS TOGETHER. PUT NORITOSHI IN THERE. BRING NORITOSHI BACK YOU ONE EYED CAT FUCK..... I WONT FORGET THIS GEGE, WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE.....

[peaches2217]

How about 90 and 85 for Mario and Luigi for the prompt challenge?

90: “Remember when we were little?” + 85: “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”

"Hey'ey'ey," Mario called from the kitchen before Luigi had so much as touched the doorknob, "it's cold outside! Take my jacket."

He had a second set of eyes, Luigi was convinced, embedded into the back of his head and cleverly camouflaged within his thicket of unruly curls. He scoffed affectionately. "Okay, Mamma."

"Was that supposed to be some kind of a burn? It's an honor to be like Mamma!" Mario stepped out of the kitchen to join his brother in the foyer as he spoke, his sleeves still rolled to his elbows and an apron stained with sauce still tied around his waist. He hardly even looked at Luigi as he nabbed his faded red jacket from the coat hanger, and, without another word, tossed it over the taller brother's shoulders.

Luigi could fit into Mario's clothes just fine, if not perfectly; they were both too short and too large, swallowing him whole despite barely even reaching his hips. It wasn't too cold tonight. He wouldn't protest. "Nah," he laughed, letting Mario guide his arms into the jacket's arm holes, "you're worse than Mamma."

"As if that's my fault," Mario teased right back, hands flecked with odd spices fumbling at the jacket's zipper. "Remember when we were little? You wore my jacket more than I did!"

"And you'd think at least one of us never grew up. Still treating your baby bro like a helpless lil' bambino all these years later, honestly."

Mario's head snapped up and his hands fell from the half-zipped jacket, and Luigi realized, looking into his widened eyes, that he thought he was being serious. Mario's hovering didn't come from a place of distrust or infantilization. That was just how he was. That was how he showed love.

Luigi's grin brightened as he zipped the rest of the way up. He wouldn't trade that quirk for the world. "Oh, quit looking guilty and get back to making dinner. We're both gonna wither away standing around here."

Mario's uncertainty melted away, and he grinned right back, reaching up to ruffle Luigi's hair. "I'll have your plate ready by the time you get back."

"You'd better!" With a quiet laugh and an exchange of Ti voglio benes, Luigi tugged the jacket's hood over his head and stepped out into the darkness of the evening.