#My skin color is not a crime t-shirt

[kokoa-la]

Prompt from @help-i-need-a-cool-username

Jason has once again snuck into Gotham University. Now, before any assumptions are made onto why the crime lord would break into a college, the reason is because he likes the library. That's it. The public library is trashed and small, barely taken care of, but Gotham U's? It's beautiful. Multiple floors, organized and in sections, taken care of, alphabetical order, it's magnificent. The chairs were a reason alone to sneak in, but the students here added an extra charm. 

He had gone to the very back of the library on the second floor. This area was  pretty well hidden and enclosed. He would come here to read without anyone questioning him, even hiding the books he wasn’t finished with yet to continue on later. Jason wasn’t expecting someone to be so close to his spot though. A few tables across stood a student, thin, tall, with pitch black hair, baggy cargo jeans, and a white t-shirt. The other hadn’t noticed him yet, so he remained quiet and just watched. He was in front of a large white board on wheels, seemingly taken from the rooms he saw down the hall. 

“That doesn’t work, goddammit.”

On the white board was lines upon lines of equations- at least he thought they were equations, with most of them being letters and symbols rather than numbers. It made the vigilante’s brain hurt. The student - assumed STEM major - just kept mumbling to himself.

“Stupid physics, won’t allow interdimensional travel”

What? Jason may have been out of school since 15, but he knew no courses were asking for the answer to traveling between dimensions. It seemed the student had a habit of talking to himself when worked up or focused, possibly why he isolated himself from the rest of the library. 

“If your parents could do it, why can’t you? Think Danny, think!”

That sentence wasn’t concerning at all, but at least Jason learned the boy’s name. Danny seemed to have a strange background, what did he mean by ‘if your parents could do it’? Had his parents managed to travel between dimensions? The other was chewing on the cap of the white board marker, his other hand resting on his hip as he swayed back and forth.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! That! The thing! That thingy!”

Jason could practically see the lightbulb go on above Danny’s head. Just then the other erased a solid portion of the whiteboard and dropped to his knees, ouch. He started frantically scribbling, fast and messy, barely cohesive. Though, Jason was sure that if it was Tim sitting where he was instead, the boy could probably understand everything on that board. He’d stick to English literature, thank you very much. 

“That’s it! Oh my ancients! I got it!”

Danny practically jumped in the air, punching the air in triumph. Jason almost felt proud of him, this complete stranger he’s been watching, wow he was being creepy, huh? Danny shot both of his arms straight up, the marker gripped tightly in his right hand fist. 

“I did it!”

He looked so happy, so excited. He began to buzz, even spinning, before stopping mid loop and turning around slowly. Shit, Jason had been caught. To be fair, Danny hadn’t exactly turned around the whole time, meaning Jason was just watching his back the whole time as he worked through his… problem? It’s such a shame, Jason was thoroughly entertained by this random kid. 

“Uhhh, hi? How long have you been there?”

Oh shit, Jason had to talk now, didn’t he?

“Not very long, but long enough to know you were trying to solve interdimensional travel before apparently succeeding.” 

The color drained from Danny’s face. Whoops?

“Uhm, no I didn’t.”

Now that he got a closer look, the student looked like someone Bruce would adopt. Black hair, clear blue eyes, tan skin, sharp features, the whole nine yards. He was actually fairly attractive, maybe even cute. 

“Really? I could have sworn that you said ‘stupid physics won’t allow interdimensional travel’”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah sure, and I’m a student here.”

“Wait, you’re not a student here?”

“That’d only be true if you were lying.”

“Well I’m not so-”

“Uh huh, sure you’re not.”

“Look dude-”

“Jason.”

“Look Jason, there’s no way that I could solve interdimensional travel, the multiverse doesn’t exist.”

“Look Danny-”

“How do you know my name?”

“I won’t tell a single soul if you explain how you did it to me”

Curiosity won his gambit. Would he regret what he was about to say? Perhaps.

“Maybe over a coffee?”

He knew it was worth it when the marker hit the floor and Danny moved his hand to cover his red face. Well, it wasn’t the first time he’s done something he regrets, maybe this time it’d be a cute STEM major who knows the secrets to the multiverse. 

#dc x dp #dp x dc #jason todd #red hood #danny fenton #danny phantom #danny fenton is a huge nerd #figuring out interdimensional travel instead of finishing his 5 page english paper due 'like yesterday' #jason has done many things he regrets #breaking into a college isnt one #neither is asking out the cute nerd with eccentric capabilities #if only jason knew what he was getting into #boo #jason todd x danny fenton #dead on main #college au #gotham university

[furrysmp]

decided to go sunbringer designs for once. I have so many words oh my god

so. uh,

I am so normal about sunbringer joel smallishbeans so normal I swear. he's planning to throw the o from his name at scott btw.

... he and scar are related but I'm not explaining further until the actual fic about it comes out because there's so much plot significance in the smallishbeans.

... grian. has a book. that he borrowed from the Library. it's very relevant I swear the concept of the library is a plot point.

Also grians eyes are technically green! With a bit of purple and just. a layer of Dark over them to make them less neon green. its not in his genetics to have neon eyes. unlike scar and I swear their eye colors are relevant but like in a weird queerplatonic scarian dl based bit in the grian chapter of the fic

Mumbo is a long cat and being held by me specifically those hands are how I draw my mc skin. I wanted to draw him as this meme since 2021 but he's very hard for me to draw so I took the one time I'll ever draw him and did this.

Jimmy is. a creature. that has bird features but also cod features bc again half of the plot of sunbringer is based on empires 1. Also the bird he's holding is singing. And joel is stealing the song bc he has music type magic.

Scott! Is the one guy I can talk about! Because he already appeared in the fic. He's part ender dragon and like. a child of stars? I have a lot of times I drew him before I think but idk how much of it I uploaded before so yeah. Please ask me about sunbringer scott smajor he's one of the only ones I can talk about and he has so much lore going for him he's so dear to me

impulse is. technically part ender dragon too? the specifics will be explained in his chapter of yhiwu (alongside. a lot of magic lore. like a lot. I have half that speech written already it's basically looking the empires fic in the eyes and going "fight me uwu")

And because impulse is aligned to shadows skizz gets to be some form of light dragon descendant? Like light isn't directly an element in the magic of this universe but it does have an equivalent in the element of Life, which connects to truth and love, whereas shadows and theatrics (and storytelling in general) is always aligned to whatever element is considered dark; in this magic system, being Void.

Tango is looking up at mumbo. thats all. I don't have a lot of notes because my tango is just a little guy.

(Etho is checking smth on his smartwatch and also doing his best to ignore bdubs rn bc bdubs is in his villain arc/hj)

... ngl the only note I have on the bdubs design is that it's accidentally inspired by my human design for the main character in the show I'm writing. Bracelets and sparkly eyes and a t-shirt and. Crimes.

also not much on the cleo design she was just fun to draw but the implications of her existence are spoilers and also not really visually indicative bc idk what a "zombie hybrid" would look like so she just looks. funky. her background is all stitched together btw I finally had a use for the dashed lines brush :D

martyn and ren are. BIG spoilers. But only to like chapter 5 of the current fic. I will say I highly enjoy their existence tho. Also my ren designs always have hawaiian patterned shirts its a personality trait he seems to possess. Also his glasses are like. a hologram? bc his ears are Dog so he cant have normal glasses w like. the things that go behind ur ears.

lizzie is. also very important. she gets the two animals thing like jimmy bc axolotl and cat were her empires animals. also her buns are heart shaped I saw some fanart of that and its really cute so I also have that. and she's also looking at the long mumbo! very confused.

bigb. scares me. like yeah secret life really be mans villain arc. I tried to reflect that by actually straight up mirroring his eyes and having him be. the only guy looking straight at u. he can see u. u can run but u cant hide. also he gets cookies. also also drawing facial hair is hard he's the only time I ever managed to make facial hair look. normal. ever. wont happen again.

gem is being adorable and also definitely a deer hybrid dont mind the magic or stuff its fine (her chapter is. third in the roster. I literally just need to finish the impulse chapter to convince myself that its ok to upload her immediately after ch2).

and pearl! who we know bc she gets first chapter of the fic and thats already out. her eyes are a bit like moons btw. also she's doing magic back at gem which is cute I think. idk.

also half of them have fancy hair shines. like joel having beans that get progressively smaller. or pearl having moons. :D

#trafficblr #traffic smp #secret life #traffic series #life series #empires smp #empiresblr #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft #joel smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #grian #scott smajor #smajor1995 #smallishbeans #gtwscar #gtws #goodtimewithscar #goodtimeswithscar #solidaritygaming #impulsesv #skizzleman #tangotek #tango tek #ethoslab #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #bdouble0 #zombiecleo #martyn itlw

[silentglassbreak]

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

-

I had the 2nd part in my head already, so I started writing it. This post may go up pretty darn quick. If you've read so far, THANK YOU. Again, if you like it, and want to be tagged, Just lemme know.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 2 - Running in Circles

Syd looked so much brighter today. It was refreshing. She had her makeup on, she was clear, like she had been sleeping and eating regularly. Sometimes, that in and of itself was the simplest of answers. It was the key some days.

She finished telling us about how she had put in sixteen applications at various employers since the last meeting, had been to the gym each day, and finally finished a 2000 piece puzzle she started three months ago. It was fabulous news, earning her a huge applause from everyone, including Noah, who I was halfway surprised to see again today. It had only been two days, but showing up again was a 50/50 shot with newcomers. Usually, if they made it to 5 meetings, they were in it for the long haul. I was extremely pleased.

He was also a lot different today, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest the majority of the meeting, but still more open than his last visit. Reading body language was crucial in this field, so I may have read a book or two on it in my spare time. His face also looked fuller, the dark circles now just shadows slightly casting his light skin and deep color eyes. He wore a white T-shirt with a red beanie, showing the tattoos off on his long arms.

His turn came rather quickly, and he sighed heavily when all eyes turned to him.

Before he could start, I chimed in. "Guys?" Everyone looked over to me. "Before Noah shares today, can we give him a huge round of applause for showing up to his second meeting?" This was met with fierce applause and a few hoots and hollers from our more spirited members.

"Great job!" Seth smiled brightly. Abel nodded his head pointedly.

"One of the hardest parts is coming back. Good for you, bud." I could see Noah's cheeks tinge pink, but he smiled, a smile bigger than I had seen so far. He was slightly embarrassed, but I could see his appreciation. Maybe even a sparkle of moisture in his eyes? He definitely pushed that down.

He reached behind his head nervously and chuckled shyly as the clapping died down.

"Thanks guys." He folded his hands in his lap, looking at the floor. "I was in the neighborhood, so..." He threw his hands up in a casual manner, causing some laughing from the group, including myself.

"How was the last few days for you?" I crossed my legs, eyes pointed in his direction. He didn't return my gaze.

"It was different. I haven't exactly talked to anyone about it." I only nodded. I wanted to encourage him to keep sharing, but I didn't want to pry too hard. "I don't know how to bring it up to anyone."

"That's fair. I think we all went through that."

He nodded, idly picking at his thumbnail. "I have a gig this weekend, and things usually get pretty wild after. I'm nervous." His eyes then looked up at me. I felt as though he was speaking directly to me, rather than to the group. Maybe he was?

Most people look around, avoid eye contact, and talk mostly just out loud. That's the purpose. Noah, however, was holding a conversation with me, and everyone else just happened to be within earshot. That was clear.

I would allow it, for now. If it eased him in, I was game for almost anything.

"Can I ask what kind of gig?" He sucked his teeth, a smirk creeping in.

"I'm in a band." I smiled now, because he was telling us (me) something personal.

"Oh nice! What do you play? Guitar?" His eyes snapped to Syd, who had chimed in. I could see this broke his concentration bubble, and I watched as his shoulders slightly drew in.

Although, he did not stop speaking. His tone did die down a little.

"I can play guitar, but in this band, I just sing." He cleared his throat, squirming slightly in his chair. "We were on tour earlier this year, and once it was over, I realized I needed help, so I'm hoping to make good progress before the next tour starts this fall. This gig is just opening for a bigger band."

"Must be some band." I added with a smile. This brought his attention back to me.

"What's it called?" Syd's voice was bouncy, breaking through the cool calm I had manufactured. I watched him almost visibly flinch.

"I'd rather not say." And with that, I could see he was done for today.

-

After the meeting, I caught Noah booking for the exit. I ran after him, donut in my hand.

"Hey Noah!" I caught him right before he slid into the driver's seat of his Navigator. "You didn't get a snack!"

He waved a hand at me. I still jogged up to his car. "I'm good Leena, thanks though." I sighed, stopping in front of him.

"Can we chat for a sec?" I saw him look down, likely questioning his decision to come back, but still shut his door and walked over to where I stood by the hood of the truck.

"What's up?"

"Did you get a chance to find a sponsor?" His beanie was pulled down low toward his eyes. He avoided my gaze.

"Yeah, uh, I actually didn't. Turns out everyone I know is into drinking, and I don't think that'll change anytime soon." I nodded knowingly.

"We've got great sponsors here, you know? Abel is a great resource, so is Rodger. They've both been in active recovery for more than five years." He narrowed his eyes, visibly stressed by the conversation.

"Yeah, I uh...don't really know them very well."

I couldn't tell you what possessed me to say what I did next, whether it was empathy, the sugar high from the donuts, the caffeine, or something else entirely, but I still opened my mouth.

"Do you want me to be your sponsor?" I watched his eyes widen at that, his head snapping to me quickly.

"You'd do that? You don't even know me."

I smiled my bright smile, and nodded. "Absolutely, at least until you can find another or get comfortable with one of the other members. I don't mind at all."

For the first time since we'd met, which wasn't long ago, admittedly, I saw a smile touch his eyes. Something told me that Noah hadn't seen genuine human kindness in a while.

"I mean, only if you want to. Maybe just to get me to the meeting next week?" I nodded.

"Of course. Happy to." He looked around, watching the people trickle out of the building around us and waved at Seth, who smiled at him before getting in his car.

"I do think we should take some time to work out a plan for your gig. These first few weeks in recovery are crucial."

He leaned against his car, chewing his lip. "You think so?"

I handed him the donut. He skeptically accepted it, and took a small bite.

"How long has it been?" He looked down then, a sign of shame.

"Five days." I nodded.

"And when is your gig?"

"Tomorrow night." I shrugged. I had work to do.

"You busy tonight?"

-

Noah sat back in the booth, sighing heavily, his plate clear. I continued shoveling pasta into my mouth, the carbs and the donuts being my only food sources today. Work had, once again, been hectic. I could see him looking around the restaurant, people watching.

Without warning, he leaned over the table. "You know, my girlfriend would kill me if she knew I was at dinner with another woman."

His statement gave me pause for a moment. Girlfriend. I hadn't even considered that. Ignoring the small, sinking feeling in my gut, I slurped my noodle and felt a twinge of guilt. I had no interest in getting him in trouble.

He must have seen the look on my face, because he smiled then. "I didn't tell her. It's no big deal, really."

I wiped my mouth on my napkin and swallowed a large gulp of water.

"Does she know you've started coming to AA?" He shook his head feverishly.

"No, not yet." This made me furrow my brow, suspicious.

"Where does she think you are, then?"

He leaned back, perusing. "Probably figures I'm out with the guys, shitfaced already."

It took me a second to realize, I didn't know a lot about Noah. I had no idea who the man was that I just shared a meal with, agreed to be his sponsor, and unknowingly risked his relationship.

"You know, if we're going to be working on your recovery, there's some things we may need to know about each other." He signaled the waiter.

"Like?"

"Well, for one," I smiled at the waiter as Noah politely asked for a dessert menu. Then, keeping my voice low, I leaned over the table. "I don't even know your last name."

I caught the way his eyes drifted over me, my chest now slightly exposed at this angle, my black hair flowing over my shoulder.

"You don't?" He seemed unfazed, but I did catch the bob of the bulge on his throat when he dry swallowed. I leaned back. This was not the game to play.

"No." I laughed. "You always sign in as 'Noah S.' What does the S stand for? Skynard?" This made him laugh loudly.

Through his chuckles, he choked out "Sebastian." He caught his breath. "My last name is Sebastian."

I nodded, satisfied with that. It was enough to Google if I felt so inclined.

"And you?" This made me stop for a second mid-bite.

"What about me?"

"Is your name just Leena? Like Cher?" This made me drop my fork, a hard laugh echoing between us from my chest. I saw his amused smile, which almost embarrassed me.

"Mileena. Mileena Richards."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Like, from Mortal Kombat?"

I nodded proudly. "Same spelling, different origin."

"That's fucking cool."

The waiter then came back, a large slice of multi-layered chocolate cake covered in a hot chocolate sauce set down on the table, two large scoops of vanilla ice cream and two spoons set down on the plate with it.

"Wow."

Noah shrugged sheepishly. "I heard sugar helps with the cravings."

-

We walked out of the restaurant, the night nice and chilly in the February air. We stood between our trucks, full and exhausted.

"So, we didn't come up with a game plan."

I nodded, leaning my head back on the door of my Tahoe. "I'm sorry. I was starving."

He returned it with a rub of his stomach. "Same. It's fine."

"You said in group that the usual thing is to go out and party after the show, right?" He nodded. "What's the chance of just heading home afterwards? Claiming you're tired?"

"Slim. We have the show. Then meet and greet. Then we all typically hang out in the green room. Do some shots. Then hit a bar." I watched his face downturn, as if he was admitting to a crime.

"Okay. And being in a bar is a big no no for right now." He sighed, covering his face with his hands.

"I'm not ready to tell them." I reached over, putting a hand on his shoulder. I felt his body slightly lean into the affection, only for a second.

"That's okay, Noah. We can make it work." I wracked my brain for ideas, but was sincerely lost for ideas. "Can you tell them you don't feel well?"

He put his hands down and leaned back against the door, looking defeated. "Maybe? It would need to be a pretty good disease to get me out of the after party."

This made me smirk. "You ever had the stomach flu?"

This made him chuckle. "You want me to vomit onstage?!" He feigned shock and disgust.

I laughed. "No, it doesn't need to be that dramatic. After the meet and greet, you just tell everyone you have to use the restroom, spend way too long in it, and then tell them you need to go home. Pull at the skin on your face a little, make yourself look flush. Make sure you're sweaty."

"That's a given after a show."

"You never did tell me the name of your band."

He smiled wickedly. "It's probably not your vibe?"

I lifted my chin proudly. "Try me."

"Metalcore?"

"Architects? Falling in Reverse? Ice Nine Kills? Bring Me The Horizon?" I began listing them on my fingers.

He pointed at the name of the last band. "We're touring with them some time next year."

My jaw dropped. "You've met Oli Sykes?!"

He shook his head. "Not yet, but I hear he's a really cool dude."

"Noah, how big is this band you're in?"

"Not too big, just me and three other guys."

I rolled my eyes. "Not what I meant." He laughed then, acknowledging his smartass.

"Maybe you should come tomorrow?" This took me back. The idea hadn't even crossed my mind.

"Seriously?"

His tone became excited. "Yeah! Why not? You can make sure I get out of there afterward, you can see us play, too. Maybe you'll hear something you recognize."

"Maybe I'd know if you just told me the name of the band." He laughed again, but my amusement was fading.

"C'mon, you can be my getaway driver."

"How am I going to get in, when your band is apparently a pretty big deal? I bet there aren't even tickets left."

He shook his head. "Nah, I can get you a VIP suite. So you don't have to do the mosh pits and all that."

This started to sound not so terrible after all. It had been a while since I had gone to a good rock concert. Life had been so busy.

"Can I bring a friend?" He smirked.

"Boyfriend?"

For whatever reason, I felt the inherent need to deny this immediately. "Nope. But I have a best friend who is really into metal. She just saw Bad Omens a few months ago."

His eyebrows rose, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Oh, definitely bring her. If she's into that, she may like us."

I nodded. "Alright. Where is it?" He pulled his phone out and unlocked it, swiping away multiple text notifications before opening a fresh contact and handing it to me.

"Put in your number. I'll text you all the details in the morning, when I get them." I nodded and added myself in under Leena H. He nodded in satisfaction.

Then came this sudden awkward silence. I could tell he didn't know what to do next. Handshake? Hug? Salute?

This made me chuckle, when I turned and opened my car door.

"Goodnight, Noah. See you tomorrow." I got a sheepish wave in return.

-

Back at home, after a much needed shower and settled into my bed, I pulled out my laptop.

My curiosity was too strong now. Who was this band?

My Google search took less than a second to load.

Noah Sebastian: Lead Singer of Bad Omens.

I stared at my screen for a long time. I wasn't reading this correctly was I? There it was, in black and white on my screen. It was a joke, right? Noah wasn't...he couldn't be...right?

But there it was, his photograph plastered on my screen. That was definitely in technicolor.

I didn't know much by Bad Omens, but I knew their song Just Pretend. It was one of the most played in my shower, on my drives to work. It was one of those songs that resonated with you. I heard it first on TikTok, and was hooked on that verse. That voice.

No fucking way.

I pulled out my phone, completely ignoring the fact that it was clear after midnight by now.

Me: YOU'RE THE LEAD SINGER OF BAD OMENS????

It took about three minutes, in which I was absolutely not staring at the screen the entire time, before I saw the typing bubble.

Noah: LOL Bad Omens? Never heard of them.

This motherfucker.

Me: Noah! Why didn't you say something?!

Noah: I don't get to have fun once in a while? Wow. AA's kind of a bummer.

Me: Laura's going to lose her shit.

Noah: That'll be fun for you. Talk to you tomorrow!

With that, the conversation was over. I chucked my phone to the foot of the bed, stunning a curious glance from my hound Angel. I petted a silent apology on his head and he laid back down.

What the fuck. What the fuck?!

I'm sponsoring a fucking rockstar.

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic

[inmyheadimobsessed]

Wind Me Up

pairing: riri ✘ plussize!black!fem!reader

summary: riri williams drives you insane, mostly because you always lose to her academicly. being partners on an assignment can only make things much worse, you're sure. (requested)

contains: fluff, cute fun academic rivalry, reader is a snobby, rich, overdramatic perfectionist (maybe riri likes that), twinge of suggestive behavior

word count: 3840

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: i had too much fun writing this. might just be me projecting my love for snobby girls who are mean to me oops. hope those who requested like the way it turned out! enjoy <333

You grinned down at your test, squinting your eyes and tilting your head to make sure you were reading it correctly. And indeed you were. Ninety-nine. That’s what it read, and the pride that swam through you was electrifying. Highest grade you’d gotten all semester. Your professor was an intense grader, harsher than most, so to score this high was one of your greatest accomplishments. Being the perfectionist you were, odd numbers would usually throw you off, but not this one.

You could not rip your eyes away from the paper before you. Telling your mother later, after weeks of complaints about how Dr. Hanson had it out for you, would be the most satisfying feeling. Nothing could ruin your shine right now.

“Ninety-nine. That’s Cute.” Except maybe that; her.

Exhaling on a heavy sigh, you turned to face her, “What do you want, Williams?”

“So I can’t congratulate you on your lil ninety-nine?” Her lips curled into a smug smile and it took all the restraint you could muster not to carve her eyeballs out with your pen. The familiar feeling of burning irritation began climbing the back of your neck, talons digging deep.

“Please don’t tell me you’re jealous.” You felt a jolt of confidence then, straightening your posture and eyeing her up and down. Riri was wearing a random band t-shirt and jeans, with a pair of Nike Dunks. The jeans hugged her curves well, but the rest of her outfit was just so very… basic. You would never be caught dead in anything similar to what she wore.

Her laugh was even more infuriating than her smile, and your eye roll was unavoidable. “And why would I be jealous of somebody with a lower grade than me? You crack me up, you know that?” Riri lifted her own test into eye view, and sure enough, she had gotten a one hundred. Said it right there in red. Red, what a multifaceted color you thought. Many things were red: the numerical value of both of your grades, the spots you were beginning to see the longer Riri dangled her test in your face, and of course: blood.

That restraint you were so desperately clinging to was slipping swiftly from your grasp. You imagined smacking her, were your rings sharp enough to draw blood? Of course Riri got a hundred. And of course her first move was to throw it in your face. God she made your skin crawl.

All your life, you’d been the best at any and everything you did. Things just came naturally to you, but apparently they came even more naturally to Riri. You’d never admit it out loud, if you did you would probably have to commit heinous crimes to keep it from getting out, but she was better than you; quicker, slicker.

Being second best was not something you handled well. Being second best to Riri’s first, that tangled with your mental stability.

“Having one point more than me does not mean what you think it means, Williams.” You narrowed your eyes, attempting to appear intimidating and unbothered.

Her bright smile blew you back, and you almost faltered, almost. “Trying to make yourself feel better about losing by convincing yourself that a lower grade is better than a perfect one? Damn that’s pathetic as hell.”

“I hope you know, no matter what you do, you’ll always be beneath me.” You growled, your anger evident in every syllable. Fuck restraint.

“And I hope you know, no matter how hard you try, your grade will always be beneath mine. Ima see you later, Two.” Riri smirked at you before leaving the class entirely. You swallowed a scream as you watched her leave. You hated it when she called you that, so obviously she made it a point to do it often.

Your treacherous eyes trailed to her butt and you cursed them, willing them to focus on the issues at hand. You huffed in attempts to calm yourself, and began gathering your things to head back to your apartment. Tomorrow was a new day, and “new days breed new possibilities.” Your grandmother’s mantra was something you held on very tightly to after meeting Riri Williams.

Though the only possibilities your days bred were those that would lead to you beating Riri’s ass at some point before the semester was over. Violence may not be ladylike in the eyes of your gracious grandmother, but grandmother does not know you go to school with the devil herself.

•••

After slipping on your stockings and tweed skirt, you smoothed it down. You slid your feet into your black Louboutins gracefully, then pulled on your matching blazer.

Your high puff looked elegant with your edges laid and plaid headband sitting patiently on top. Really pulled the whole look together. One last once over in your full length mirror, admiring the way your thick thighs and wide hips were framed in your outfit, then you grabbed your bag and headed off.

Most of your classes were a breeze, the ones she wasn't in, to be specific. Your hand shot into the air like a rocket with every question your professors directed to the class. The audible groans and death glares you received from your peers only egged you on more. Shining in an academic environment always put you in the best mood.

But alas, all good things must come to an end, all highs must become lows. And sitting in your chemistry class with the demon spawn herself was the lowest of all lows. You sat in your usual seat, last row, smack dab in the center so you could see everyone in the room.

“Nice shoes. They look new. Bet daddy bought those to cheer you up after coming in second to me, again.” Riri’s graining voice echoed in your ears right on schedule.

“We mustn't comment on things we can't afford, Williams.” You propped your elbows on the table, holding your pencil at point and eraser. Refusing to look at her, you let a smirk climb to your lips.

You could tell your comment struck her right where you intended it to. It took her longer to snap back than usual, exactly thirty-two seconds longer. “Daddy's money can't fix everything. It definitely ain't fixing that forehead.”

She chuckled at your shock and walked to her seat two rows down. “Oh that was real mature!” She'd never commented on your appearance before and you certainly did not expect it. Was there something wrong with your forehead? No one's ever mentioned it being abnormal or unusually large. If there was an issue, grandmother would've said something.

Your professor entered the class and you tried to focus on her lesson, but you’d be lying if you said that forehead comment wasn't rattling around in your brain.

“Okay, so in order for a molecule to be considered inorganic, what must it not contain?” Your hand was in the air then, reaching for the ceiling. Only half a second after Riri’s. You blew out a gust of air as you felt your left eye begin its inevitable twitching.

It was alright. It was only one question and there would be many more. You steadied your breathing, trying to remain as calm as possible, class had only just begun.

But class went exactly how it always went: Dr. Hanson asked a question, you raised your hand, Riri beat you to the punch, she received all the glory, and you were stuck biting down on the inside of your cheek until it bled.

“Last question before I give you your assigned partner for your lab. How many elements of unsaturation are present for a molecule with this formula?” She turned her back to the class as she scribbled on the board and your hand was up before she finished.

When she turned around, and spotted your fingers wiggling above you, her smile was genuine as she pointed to you and you returned it. “The answer is five. Five molecules.”

“I'm sorry, but that's incorrect. Anyone else wanna take a stab at it?” Embarrassment surged through you. Your ears grew hot with shame. Public humiliation was something you enjoyed quite a lot, but never had you been the one to light the match on yourself.

Riri cleared her throat in a rather obnoxious way before she spoke, “I'm sure what my intelligent classmate meant to say, was four. There are four elements of unsaturation present in that molecule. I can list them if you want.” And she did; list them. She turned to shoot you a wink. You snapped your pencil then and it was loud enough to shush the class.

Her stupid smirk was evident even with her back turned. You wondered what would happen if you went down there, grabbed her by the ends of her braids, and swung her small body around like a lasso. Expulsion probably, and Riri was petty enough to press charges. If she found herself coherent enough when you were finished with her, that was.

“Before you leave, make sure you check the board for your assigned partners.”

Riri reached the board before you, because of course she did. When she turned around her grin was as sinister as they came. “It's your lucky day Two, you get to work with someone who actually understands the course material. You should be grateful!” She poked your stomach and it swiveled from the contact. Strange.

“You are deathly unfunny, Williams.” There was absolutely no way in hell Dr. Hanson made the two of you partners. No way. But there it was, yet again in red. You were never a fan of irony.

Riri watched the color drain from your face and your eye’s erratic twitching. She found the whole thing amusing.

Your annoyed grunt sent her into a theatrical fit of laughter. “You know where my room is, we can start tonight. I'll catch you later, Two.”

You stomped your foot and stormed out of the class with no sense of direction, you just needed to be far away from her for as long as you could drag it out. This assignment would certainly cause you to break out in stress hives.

•••

You paced back and forth outside of Riri’s door hugging a bowl of muffins. Knocking would be smart, but knocking would mean you accepted this reality and you did not. You had gone home and stress baked two dozen muffins and three cakes that you had no intentions to consume. Thankfully, your neighbors were home and gladly took some off your hands. And then you found yourself packing some up to bring to Riri’s.

Yet here you were, unable to bring your fist to the door. The students on her floor probably thought you were a lunatic, and they wouldn’t be too far off with that assumption. Just as you were about to knock, the door swung open and there stood Riri.

“Bruh, you gotta chill. I just got like seven messages saying there was some weird girl in heels outside my door pacing. You drawing too much attention to me.”

She grabbed your wrist and pulled you into her room. The feeling of her fingers on your bare skin brought back that silly little swivel from earlier, the one you decided to ignore completely.

It took you a minute to fully process what was going on. Not only were you still in disbelief about having to work with her, being in her room when she was dressed like that certainly did not help the situation. Riri had on short pajama bottoms, very short. Could they even be considered pants? No. You’d decided, and that was final. She was braless under her tank top and the material was fairly see through.

Your mind was spinning at the sight of her, something that has never happened for the duration of time you’d known her. Sure you’d checked her out from time to time, but you were only human. This was… you did not know what this was. You were brought out of your trance by the snapping of fingers in your face, Riri’s fingers. The annoyance you felt then reminded you exactly why you never went past casual glances at her body.

“Don’t snap your fingers at me, are you crazy? I’m not a damn pet.” You scoffed and made your way to her kitchenette. You ran your fingers along the small counter before rubbing them together. Everything was very sticky, you were not fond of sticky.

“What? My room not boujee enough for you?” She leaned back against her desk and crossed her arms. Her eyes stalked your body before coming to a very alarming stop at your chest. Her gaze on you was filled with something you didn’t understand, nor did you want to.

You cleared your throat, popping the bowl of muffins down on the counter, “Dorm life is certainly… a choice. Not one I would make but, hey you are not me.”

“If I had to be you for even a minute, I wouldn’t make it. Especially after you embarrassed yourself in class today, whew. My ego couldn’t take that. Nah.” What an insufferable little woman she was. She had no idea that her welcoming you to her room like this could lead to her own demise. Naïve. In the worst way for sure. If only she realized how many times you’d fantasized about wringing her neck.

“Can we just get started on this stupid assignment so I can leave this quaint little room of yours?” You looked around in disgust and she rolled her eyes before pushing off the desk.

Riri walked over to where you stood and stopped directly in front of you. For someone significantly shorter and smaller than you, her stare was intense. But your own stare was vehement; unshakeable. The two of you stood there for longer than necessary, glaring at each other with immense disdain. Riri broke first and you smirked. Victory.

“These for me?” She pointed to the muffins you brought and you nodded. “Feeding me Two? Don’t let me get the wrong idea about this.”

Your brows furrowed, “And what idea would that be, Williams?”

She moaned and licked her lips after biting into your muffin. You smiled a little at her reaction, validation in any form always had that effect on you, even coming from your nemesis. “You can just call me Riri, you know, like a normal person.”

“Calling you by your first name would imply that we were acquaintances or something. We are nothing of the sort. Now can we please get started on the assignment? If I’m here any longer I’m gonna start to itch.”

She scoffed at your remark, making her way over to her messy desk. Did tidiness mean nothing to this girl? “I meant what I said earlier Two, you should be grateful you got me as your partner. I already did the work. You’re welcome.”

“And you can understand why I would wanna check it over right? Seeing as my name is gonna be on it when it’s turned in.”

She laughed, “You just don’t know when to stop do you? Chill bro, you know how many people been begging me to do this lab for them? You’re getting a free hundred, just take it.”

You studied over her work, gagging at her atrocious handwriting. Something caught your eye then. It couldn't be. But it was, it so gloriously was. An error, small, but an error all the same. Significant enough that it called for a reworking of the entire thing. A full blown, tooth shattering grin broke through your face, dimples popping.

“See man, I told you. My work is perfect.” She thought your smile was about acknowledging a job well done on the assignment, how cute.

The thrill you felt from the thought of bursting her bubble and burning her to the ground was magnificent. “Au contraire. You made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” She was at your side in an instant, eyes traveling every line on the paper.

You nodded frantically, “See here how you got seven? It's supposed to be five. And seeing as you used the same formula for every question…”

“That means the whole thing is wrong.” She pulled the paper from your grip, still in disbelief.

“Yup! Exactly! That's correct. I mean, you saying the whole thing is wrong is correct, not your actual work. Your work is actually very not correct.” You giggled victoriously and clapped your hands as she sat down at her desk.

Riri sighed, “Bruh, can you come over here and help me? Stop acting like a kid.”

“Sorry. But you’re so very wrong.” You beamed over at her. The frustration on her face was sweeter than candy.

“Come here. Now.” Agitation coated her words and you found yourself needing to obey them. You got on your knees beside her and began explaining her mistake. Riri was surprisingly receptive to being corrected and taught, she took instruction well. When you got to the last few problems, she insisted on doing them on her own and you let her. You smiled when she got it correct.

“See what a little listening and paying attention can get you? I mean I would not have made that mistake, but everyone has to start from somewhere I guess.” Her eyes found your lips as you spoke and she smirked. She let them flutter up to your own brown ones and you held your breath. Something in the room cracked a little, and it startled you.

“I’m not gonna lie Two, I like this little back and forth we got going on.” The emotion pooled in her eyes was one you knew well; lust. And it scared the living shit out of you.

You bit your bottom lip, glancing at her timidly, “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Your blood rushed. How could a simple word like 'yes' get you flustered? How was Riri Williams making you flustered? Witchcraft was at play, there was no other explanation.

Your voice came out higher than usual, and suddenly your blazer was way too tight. Your knees hurt from kneeling on the floor for too long, but you made no effort to stand. “And why’s that?”

“Maybe I like pushing your buttons.” The low rasp of her tired voice was enough to set you on fire. Words, you needed words. But sadly, none came. Riri chuckled, aware of what her words were doing to you. “Like right now, you’re so worked up you can’t even speak. It’s cute.”

You blinked slowly at her, “You think I’m cute, Williams?”

“Very.” The breath you inhaled got lodged in your throat. The thumping in your chest centered all of your emotions, you were enjoying the way she looked at you like she craved you.

Riri’s expression let you know she was ready to devour you like she did your muffin. It made your head spin, and she took note of that too. The ache growing between your thighs was not something you could ignore any longer.

Your head dipped to the carpet in her room and Riri snaked her index finger under your chin, “Don’t go getting all shy on me now. Look at me.” And you did. Her eyes twinkled like stars and you were surprised you never noticed their shine before. You supposed plotting her untimely death was the reason for that.

“I don’t understand. If you think I’m so cute, why haven’t you said so before?”

“Now look who’s not paying attention. Like I said, I like challenging you.” She preened.

Your eye twitched then, “But you don’t challenge me, you best me. I do not enjoy being bested.”

“So you admit I’m better than you. I already knew that, but it’s nice to hear. Besides, I’m sure the only time you don’t like being bested, is in the classroom.”

Your scoff was loud and alarming, and so was your blush, “What does that mean?”

Her words were almost an inaudible whisper, “Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

They pulled you in, and before you knew it her lips covered yours. That crack in the room spread and shattered everything around you. Her lips were softer than you anticipated and they clogged your mind. She moved her mouth skillfully against your own as she stood up from her chair.

The move made you do the same, but neither of you dared to break the kiss, too many emotions were entangled in it to allow that. Her hand traveled down your sides, cupping your curves and rolls until she reached your ass. She squeezed and you yelped, causing her to giggle into the kiss.

Riri’s hands grazed your large thighs and she signaled for you to hop onto her desk, “Up.” You followed her instruction and she placed herself in between your legs. Her lips peppered warm pecks along your throat as she wrapped a fist around it. You moaned into her touch as you threw your head back.

She seemed to really like the sounds you were making for her as her lips trailed lower and lower on your chest. “Is this okay?” You nodded when she kissed your cleavage.

“Words Two, use your words.” Her tongue slid between your breasts and you shivered.

“Yes, it’s perfect.” Your whimper was soft and needy.

“That’s my girl.” Her lips found yours again and you kissed her with force, surprising her. It was her turn to moan now and you wrapped your legs around her waist, allowing your heels to fall to the floor.

Riri’s hand attempted to slip under your skirt, but you smacked it away with a swiftness, “I’m not that easy, Williams.”

“Like I said, I love a challenge.” She grinned up at you and you returned it.

“Can I just say, I think we’ve discovered that I’m a better kisser than you.”

Her laugh was loud and hearty, “Ima give you that because you’re adorable when you’re over confident. You and that cute forehead.”

“Oh my god what’s wrong with my forehead you freak?” You smacked her shoulder and hopped down from the desk to gather your things.

She only laughed as she walked you to the door, not before getting a few more pecks in and copping yet another feel of your butt.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She pressed her face on the side of her door and eyed you.

“What secret is that? That you’re obsessed with me? I think we’ve covered that.”

She shook her head and smirked, “I did the entire assignment wrong on purpose. Like come on, you really thought I would make that many mistakes on some simple equations? I just wanted to see you get all excited about correcting me, and you didn’t disappoint, lemme tell you.”

Your eyes bulged out of your head at her confession. She was truly a sick and twisted individual, but so were you. A match made in hell if anything.

“Goodnight, Riri.”

#riri williams x black!reader #riri x black!reader #lyricswriting #ironheart x black!reader #myworks #riri williams x reader #ironheart x reader #riri williams x plus size!reader #riri williams #black panther #wakanda forever #ironheart #dominique thorne #riri williams x fem!reader #riri williams x black!fem!reader

[dead-girl-prolific]

Headcanons! pt 1. (Jane The Killer)

first up is Jane the killer and Jane Everlasting!

My beloved<3

Jane Elizabeth Arkensaw (Jane Everlasting/The SpinOff)

Faded green eyes - Lost her eye pigmentation from the fire. ( why does she have black eyes? it’s a choice ig) the black color of her “eyes” comes from the mesh of her mask.

5’6 (tall-ish and curvy/muscular)

her usual wardrobe is turtleneck shirts that fit decently tight, black or grey bell-bottoms

when she's on missions she wears her black turtleneck dress with black gloves and black fleece tights. she usually wears flats/loafers or pumps(heels)

her burns are very visible and she can't really do much to hide them

her skin is very sensitive and she hates wearing certain materials, but in some areas she can't feel at all.

Born on december 2nd 1995 and she is currently 28 years old.

She is indeed a she/they, she is pansexual leaning towards those who identify as women.

She’s basically the mansion’s therapist (only for a select few.)(everyone but jeff basically.)

Her personality is cold, distant, motherly, calculated, she rarely loses her cool and when she does it’s when a mission fails or goes wrong. She can be sweet when she wants to be, she originally wanted to be a therapist so she’s a great listener, she gives great advice, and she usually is the one stopping fights. 

She rarely comes out of her room, she doesn’t eat much, that or she has food supplies in her room, no one is really sure.

When she is around Jeff she gets mean, agitated and very impulsive, she can barely control her blood lust when she’s around him and he just pushes her further.

This is the character I will usually use for fanfictions. (unless stated otherwise)

She is 3 years older than Jeff.

She does wear wigs, guys. Her natural hair can and does grow, but it's very brittle, damaged and thin.

Good at tracking and hunting.

above average intelligence for a pasta (let alone a human)

Endurance is immaculate

agile (as agile as you need to be for her job lol)

she's very oblivious to hints of attraction and won't know to do anything unless she's the one pulling the strings or unless something is directly said.

in each fanfic /oneshot she may or may not be a proxy and have a slightly different personality depending on her role. she could also very well be a part of the zalgo army in some fics/oneshots i/m very indecisive.

I think that's it??? (I might add more)

another picture of a very attractive woman. i gotta say, i love both Janes equally.

Jane Tod Richardson(Jane the killer)

She loves watching true crimes documentaries, or listening to true crime podcasts.

She is 5’9 and her muscles are very well concealed.

She is a muscle mommy.

Jane and Mary are 3 years apart (canon)

She can not sunburn or tan due to the liquid hate changing her skin pigmentation.(canon)

Big church girly. (she’s canonically christian)

Yes, she and Mary Vaughn are married.

She’s a girl boss guys!

Lesbian

She frequently vomits black ooze from the liquid hate

She did kill Jeff the killer.

She kills criminals

She does not live with everyone in the mansion, in fact does not know any of the pastas.(determines on the fic)

she wears metal band-T's and sweatpants almost all the time when shes not doing something important.

i might use her in some fanfics i haven't decided.

those are my only headcanons for this character if you want to know more about Jane Richardson i suggest going to the actual creator of her character! remember these are just my little ideas i made up in my pea brain!

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #jane the killer headcanons #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta jane the killer #jane arkensaw #jane richardson #headcanon

[dianneking]

On being a shapeshifter for safety reasons

(at least that's what I call myself)

TW: mentions of judging people based on appearance, hate crimes, catcalling, fluidity in gender expression, social disparity, privilege.

*

What do you mean people don't shift depending on what the occasion calls for?

Oh this is not judging people for their looks. That's about letting people prejudice manipulate them for me so that I can be safer or be left alone, or to avoid that my very existence gets questioned.

Imagine I have to take a train, okay? First of all I want to be comfy but apart from that, I need to take other things into account.

Is it a day train? I can present as either masc or femme, no big deal there. But if it is a night train, you can bet my binder will be on and my face will be frowny and I'll pull my cap lower to hide my features better. I'll put my earphones on but without any music. I'll walk fast to a seat and don't look around. Nothing to see here. Just another guy traveling. Not worth a second glance.

Is it an expensive train? I don't want the ticket inspector to check my id three times so I'll put on a button up and a blazer and maybe even put make up on. I'll look like a businesswoman who could own his ass and sue it to the moon if he so much as tries to get a word in. Safer to look expensive, just like all the other expensively travellers.

But if I am taking a cheap train, the train where people sleep because their working shifts have worn them out, the trains that smell of unrest and injustice and resentment against the people in power, then it's gonna be a baggy t-shirt for me and worn sneakers and I'll let my tired face show too.

Blending in, staying safe. 

Is this sad? Maybe. Maybe I should be fighting to be able to express myself regardless of setting. But the reality is, I don't want my face in the news.

You see it way too often. The violence against someone that could be me. AFAB, queer, young, different. Someone deciding your existence is a threat, or that you owe them something. A smile. A chat. More. *Shudder* 

I am already extremely privileged and I know that. Not everyone can do this. Not everyone can shift. The color of my skin helps me. The fact that I can to a point blend into the surroundings helps me. The fact that I live in a generally safe country is a privilege. I acknowledge it and I am grateful for it. 

I love shifting. I love to be able to change. I wouldn't (pardon the pun) change anything about it. But sometimes I wish I could do it only out of pleasure and not out of fear.

All of these are me and I am all of these and much more.

#dianneking rambles #this...took a turn #whoops #it was supposed to be lighter #genderfluid #tw hate #tw hate crimes #catcalling #shapeshifter

[orivaa-kun]

BAD ATTITUDE | Chapter 1: About That Life

chapter word count: 8k warnings: mature (18+), violence, drinking, drug use, smut, fluff, angst, feels, rough s*x pairings: Gojo Satoru x Fem OC, Geto Suguru x Fem OC, Nanami Kento x Fem OC, Fushiguro Toji x Fem OC series summary: Jujutsu Kaisen Yakuza AU where Riku Ozaki (OC) is really good at getting herself into trouble. Though the Ozaki family is ranked #10 out of the 15 clans of the Tokyo Yakuza syndicate in terms of power & strength; and the Gojo, Geto, and Zenin families fall at #1, #2, and #3 respectively; that doesn't keep her from getting in the mix with these highly ranked, highly dangerous men. Her clan's bodyguard, Nanami, can hardly keep up with all the compromising positions she constantly finds herself in. Will she ever learn her lesson? Find out on the next episode of Dragon Ba- fic playlist: Spotify YouTube

Riku groans when she hears her phone alarm chime for the fourth time tonight but begins to stir beneath the covers of her futon. All she wanted to do was rest after a long day of work – but it was that time of year again, the night of the annual gala for all Tokyo Yakuza clans.

Riku hears footsteps in the hall outside of her room, “You better be getting ready in there,” her cousin Umika warns, before swiftly sliding the screen door open and flicking on the lights. Umika sighs at the sight of Riku still in bed and shakes her head, “Typical.” Umika is already wearing her fitted, black maxi dress with lace sleeves that’s rose pattern beautifully curled around the deep tan skin of her arms. Her hair is blown out into big ringlet curls that fell around her face and reached her shoulders.

“The fuck are we celebrating, anyways… another year of crime?” Riku grumbles and throws the covers over her own head.

Umika sighs, crossing her arms as she stood in the doorway, “Riku, you know this is about showing respect to the top clans. Not going would be disrespectful in itself. Also, that crime paid for this house, so show a little appreciation, yeah?”

Riku doesn’t know why she tries to reason with Umika of all people, but continues to anyways, “But shouldn’t Uncle Jin be enough? He’s the leader of the clan, and you’re his heir!” She pulls the covers down to look at Umika.

“Look, I don’t make the rules. You get invited to the gala, you go. If you don’t, bad shit happens, and our whole family takes the hit. That’s it. Now get off your ass!”

Riku moans in feigned agony, “Fine.” She slips out of her futon, beginning to fold it up on the tatami covered floor.

“And you better hurry, too; my dad is already on the way there.” Umika begins to slide the screen door back, leaving Riku’s room, “We’re leaving in 15!”

“You hate me!” Riku shouts, dramatically.

“Yeah, yeah…” Umika waves the comment away, already down the hall once more.

When Riku appears in the main room, she’s wearing a champagne-colored, silk, and sleeveless mini dress that shimmered under the light. Without time to flat iron or do much of anything to her hair, she’d decided to wear her jet black curls in a neat, high bun, and dedicated the bulk of her 15 minutes to doing a quick ‘no-makeup’ makeup look. She fumbles her hand around in her white and black leather-lined clutch, making sure she has the essentials, “Umika, do you know where my black hee-”

Umika raises the pair of black, red-bottoms up in the air, already approaching the front door, “Let’s go.”

“Thank you, Umika~!” Riku smiles over at her cousin lovingly, which is promptly ignored.

Nanami glances up from his phone at Umika’s announcement, eyes widening briefly when he sees Riku. He stands and whistles, taking a moment to admire her long legs and the glow of her café au lait skin, “Wow, you look nice-”

Riku smiles, about to thank him but is cut off by his next words.

“-was beginning to think you only wore sweatpants and t-shirts.” The blonde teases, smirking. Nanami wore an all-black suit tonight, different from his usual tan and blue shirt combination. He’s only 4 years older than Riku (25) and 2 years older than Umika (27), but he’s always far more serious about his work, that is, unless he’s having a drink with friends or cracking jokes at Riku’s expense.

She frowns, “You know, Kento, a clan bodyguard should be a lot nicer than you are.” Riku heads to the door and retrieves her heels from Umika before slipping into them.

Nanami follows behind her to activate the automatic lock on the door, “A clan bodyguard protects the clan,” he shrugs, “sorry sweetheart, not obligated to do anything else.” He begins to set up the home security system from his phone app as they make their way outside.

“Isn’t our family still ranked 11th out of the 15 clans in Tokyo?” Riku asks, genuinely, “Why do we have to go to this thing after all these damn years?” She briefly looks over the massive, combined traditional and modern style Japanese property that she and the whole Ozaki clan call home – though, it had been a bit empty with Uncle Jin and others out on business. As always, Umika and Riku were left to handle the day-to day tasks of their family’s businesses while their elders have other issues to attend to.

The trio approaches the black Chevy SUV parked in the center of the driveway circle, and Nanami opens the back door for the two women, “Your family is ranked 10th now, and though the rankings are based on each clan’s strength and annual generated revenue, we all still work together…”

“…to contribute to the Tokyo syndicate.” Riku choruses the last part with Nanami as she slips into the car behind Umika, having heard this sentence uttered at least a hundred times by Tokyo clan leaders. She rolls her eyes, “I know. Just seems useless for us to be traveling an hour into and out of the city to play dress up and drink expensive champagne... when we could, you know, be resting so we can actually have the energy to run all our damn studios, museums, and concert venues, ya know?”

Nanami closes the door once Riku is inside then slips into the driver’s seat before starting the car, “Ri, I’m already working overtime protecting you two today – you don’t have to convince me.” He begins to steer the SUV out of the circle and onto the main stretch of driveway that led to a large glossy black and bronze gate that slowly began to open at Nanami’s press of a button beside the rear-view mirror.

“You’re mistaken, Riku,” Umika speaks up, in the midst of typing up an email for something that was most likely business related, “this is part of the job.”

Riku lets her cousin’s words sink in. Well, Umika isn’t wrong about that. For a minute, Riku wonders how many other members of the Tokyo Yakuza would rather not be at the gala tonight.

“Ken, can you turn the music up?” Riku asks; it would be a long ride, after all.

“Sure thing, Ms. Ozaki.” Nanami nearly coos with a bit of extra formality, mostly because he knows how much Riku hates being addressed by her clan and family name.

*

When they arrive at the Gojo clan’s estate – well, one of the Gojo clan’s many estates in Tokyo – Nanami exits the driver’s seat and opens the back door for Umika and Riku before offering his hand to help each of them step down from the SUV. He meets eyes with Riku when she takes his hand, “Ma’am.”

“Shut up, Kento.”

He smirks just barely, then closes the door and tosses the keys to the valet.

There are two guards in all black suits and shades who nod at each other after sizing the three of them up, then move to open the main door to the conglomerate of mansion-like buildings. If the Ozaki home is massive, this is… simply otherworldly. It would take hours just to walk through the entire estate once. While one of the guards taps the com in his ear and mumbles something about the rest of the Ozaki family invitees entering, Riku glances over the expansive acres of property that she had only seen a few times before in years past. She takes in and notes the obvious Roman and British influences on the structure of the main building’s pillars, marble work, courtyard, and ivory shading. As visually overwhelming as the estate is, she can’t deny it is the perfect place to host hundreds of wealthy yakuza assholes.

The main door opens and the talkative noise of gangsters chatting and live musicians playing in the great ballroom immediately hits their ears. Two women in uniform check them for weapons then greet and welcome them in the entryway. The artist in Riku can’t help but hate the elaborate combination of white marble and gold all over the floors and walls; it was too stuffy and there was hardly any real sense of artistic intention driving the floor plan nor décor of this mansion, other than money, “Ugh… they call this a home?” Riku says beneath her breath, mostly to Umika who walked beside her, “Gross. How could anyone seriously live here?”

“Shh!” Umika quickly retorts, “Not the time!!” She whisper yells between closed teeth.

A uniformed man with a tray of champagne flutes strides over, and Riku takes a glass while Umika waves her hand at the man to decline. If Riku has to be here, she at least wants something to bear it a little easier. She takes a long sip from the glass as Umika scans the ballroom for her father, finally catching sight of Jin Ozaki who just happens to be at one of the bars shaking hands with Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto – the youngest and strongest clan leaders of the Tokyo syndicate. That said, they are still about Nanami’s age. There’s an overwhelming presence from that side of the room in general, and Riku doesn’t want to be anywhere near it.

“Oh great, it’s your friends.” Riku remembered Nanami sharing that he’d gone to the same private school with Gojo and Geto. She takes another, much longer sip from her glass, nearly finishing it.

“I’m gonna say hi to dad and some folks. You coming?” Umika asks, with zero excitement in her voice.

“Over there? Absolutely not.” Riku shakes her head. Gojo and Geto are the strongest for a reason and isn’t just because of their clans’ combined manpower and money. It’s because of their dangerously powerful business skills and practices. They are ruthless when it comes to advancing their goals and clan business ventures and aren’t afraid to use violence to get what they want – or so Riku hears, “I’ll catch up with Uncle Jin at our table.”

Riku strides over to the seated area where a gala waitress directs her to her table. Riku thanks her when they arrive at a table with a card in the center that reads ‘10’… 10th place out of the 15 families… of course, she thinks, “Thank you, I don’t know you all remember all these names to be able to direct us so easily…” Riku says in an apologetic tone, sitting in the seat that had her name card in front of it. Of course, her seat faces the back of the room instead of the stage and she would have to twist her neck just to look at the front. She isn’t from a top ranked clan and isn’t even the heir of the family. It all makes sense, but that doesn’t make this petty seating bullshit any less annoying.

The waitress rubs the back of her neck with a shy laugh, “Hah, it’s just part of the job, ma’am. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait for the rest of the Ozaki family?” The dining area is practically empty as most are socializing over near the open bars and live music.

“Uh, yes. Can I get a really strong old fashioned, and another glass of champagne?” Riku tucks her clutch next to her in the seat and neatly folds her hands over her lap.

“Of course, Ms. Ozaki!” As soon as the words leave the waitress’s mouth, a man in uniform appears behind her and is already refilling her flute, “Just a moment for the old fashioned.” She smiles in a practiced yet kind way.

Riku nods and the woman disappears. Riku releases a soft sigh as her eyes trail over the whole ballroom, squinting a bit as she she now sees Nanami and Geto laughing and clinking glasses of whiskey, while Umika chats with some friends of hers on the opposite side of the room. Part of her wonders where Gojo and Uncle Jin had gone but she doesn’t try to think much about it. For all she knows they could be in a back room talking business or something.

Riku opens the clutch at her side to check her phone for the time. 21:40. It would be 20 minutes until the gala starts, “20 minutes closer to getting the fuck out of here…” She mutters under her breath.

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

Riku turns in her seat to find two men standing behind her, one with his hand on her chair, “Hi,” she manages in a voice that is more customer-service sounding than authentic. The man with his hand on her chair seems to be in his late 30s and wears a flashy burgundy suit, while the other looks to be in his 40s and has on a gold-colored tux. Both are fashion choices that make Riku want to throw up in her mouth a little bit.

“What’s your name, sexy?” The one in the burgundy suit questions with a crooked smirk; both men look like they’ve undoubtedly been in countless fights with the many tiny scars littered around their hands and faces.

“Reina, nice to meet you,” she lied instinctively, offering her hand to shake with the man in burgundy then the one in the gold suit. She did not want her real first name floating around with whoever these guys were friends with. “You two are…?” She waits for the men to share their names.

“Reina? That’s pretty,” the man in burgundy replies, “I’m Akio, and he’s Kaito. We’re Zenin clan muscle.” Of course. Even with all their internal and external issues, the Zenin clan deals in weapons and has continued to rank 3rd for over 20 years now. Their sheer brutality is undoubtedly a big reason behind it.

Kaito lifts Riku’s hand to his mouth to kiss, instead of shaking it.

Literally kill me right now. Riku thinks to herself, continuing to feign a smile, “Haha, thank you…”

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing all by herself?” Kaito steps closer, both men towering over Riku as she’s still sitting and they’re pretty tall, themselves.

“Just waiting on my family, and bodyguard to sit down.” Riku emphasizes the last part, but the men pay no mind. They were far too busy raking their all-too-conspicuous eyes over every inch of her body. This is what Riku dreads about these kinds of functions. She glances over to where she last saw Nanami, but he’s still drinking with Geto. What do we even pay him for?

“Right,” Akio dismisses Riku’s words with his tone, breaking his gaze with her to glance over at the table; he spots the big number ’10,’ “Ten… that’s the Ozaki family this year – right, Kai?’

“Mhm.” Kaito nods affirmatively, “Who knew they had girls like this in the Ozaki family?”

“Hard to tell when they’ve never ranked under 10 before.” Akio says, and the two man laugh. “Can’t even see if they’re ugly or not, since they’re so damn far from our tables at the front of the ballroom!” He adds and their laughter turns into an all-out guffaw.

Riku’s fake smile quickly falters into a glare, “Well at least I’m not in the same family as you incestuous, murder-loving motherfuckers with dicks for brains. What’s wrong? Got tired of keeping it in the family and wanna hit on me? What will your sister-wives think?” Riku mocks, boldly. The whole ‘keeping it in the bloodline’ thing is more of a yakuza rumor, but Riku knows how much Zenin folks hate hearing it.

The men’s laughter comes to an immediate halt. Kaito bends over so his face is hardly a few centimeters from Riku’s, and Akio’s knuckles turn white at the tightness of his grasp on Riku’s chair, the wood creaking beneath his strong grip, “The fuck did you say, bitch?” Kaito questions, nearly spitting the words at her.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not afraid to teach a low rank cunt a lesson, even if she is yakuza.” Akio says, still standing up straight but glaring down at Riku, “Might even be fun, too.” He grins, sickly.

And the danger of the situation doesn’t hit Riku until this very moment. She tries to remain calm and keep her facial expression cool, but it’s more than obvious that she’s completely pissed these Zenin guys off, and she can’t help but fear how they might react.

Once again, her mouth had gotten her into trouble. Oops.

“Hey gentlemen, why don’t we keep things respectful and give the lady some space, hm?” A new voice enters their conversation, one Riku had only heard at a distance. It’s an unmistakable one.

Satoru Gojo placed his hands on the backs of the two Zenin men, and they’re ripped out of their anger-ridden trance at the sight of the white-haired man. He wears a royal blue, fitted 3-piece suit that is perfectly tailored to his tall and toned body. Small black spectacles sit low on the bridge of his nose so his cerulean eyes peek through.

The Zenin men back away, “Whatever,” Kaito mutters, shaking his head. Nobody wanted to fight Satoru Gojo. And now was not the time nor place.

Akio starts to walk away from the table with his friend by his side, “Better pray we don’t catch you alone again…” he taunts.

“Or what?” Gojo asks honestly with a dangerous glint in his eye. Riku’s pulse thumps loudly in her head when she feels the light pressure of his large hand on her shoulder.

Akio shakes his head, “Nothin’.” And the men depart to another section of the ballroom.

Gojo waits until the men are at a distance before focusing his attention to Riku.

“You good?” He takes his hand off her shoulder.

“Yeah.” Riku quickly collects herself, regaining her composure. She clears her throat, “I mean I had that covered, but thanks.”

Gojo blinks down at Riku a few times in complete silence, then suddenly bursts into laughter.

Riku feels her cheeks redden. It was that obvious she was in trouble?

When Gojo recovers from his fit of laughter, he taps Riku’s shoulder, “But seriously, beautiful, you should be more careful about what you say to these guys – sick as most of ‘em are.” Gojo suddenly drops into a squat so that he and Riku are nearly at eye level, his gaze just below hers, “What’s your name?”

The sudden proximity to Gojo makes her stagger over her words, “Reina.” Riku isn’t sure why she lies this time, perhaps out of nervous instinct?

“Reina, right.” Gojo briefly furrows his brows, “Ozaki family so you help handle the arts businesses in our city, right?”

“Yep. And you are…?” Riku asks, stretching her arm in Gojo’s direction and obviously acting as a sort of jab at Gojo. Everyone here knew who Gojo was, regardless if they’d met him personally or not. But something about his cool and confident nature makes Riku want to take him down a few notches.

“Satoru Gojo,” he chuckles out before lightly squeezing her hand, “well, if you need anything tonight, come find me, alright?” He continues to hold eye contact with Riku while he lightly flicks the name card in front of her that clearly displays her real name, “Nice to meet you, Riku Ozaki.” He winks at her, then stands before striding off towards the opposite side of the room and continuing to greet yakuza.

Riku puts her face into her hands, “I’m a fucking idiot.”

Just then the waitress reappears with Riku’s old fashioned and sets it down on the table, “Everything alright, ma’am?”

“Just perfect.”

*

Riku uses her fork to gently fiddle with the shrimp pasta she’d selected from the three gala menu options; it was okay, just not very flavorful. She sits beside her Aunt Risako - who’s Uncle Jin’s wife and cousin Umika’s mom. Nanami sat on the other side of her.

“You’re not going to eat?” Aunt Risako asks, cutting into her ribeye steak, “It’s good!” She smiled over at her niece, her short brown bob framing her face.

The room had finally quieted down as countless members from the 15 Tokyo families sat around their respective tables, talking, eating, and drinking between various gala speeches. Riku mirrors her aunts smile in return, “I will in a bit, just not that hungry now.”

Uncle Jin had already presented his talk about the recent venues our family had acquired and how it continues to increase our family’s income and contribution in an exponential way, but most of the families chatted through; they were far more interested in the Zenin’s talk about weapons or the Geto family’s speech about their drugs. No one cared about the arts much until it came time for entertainment.

A trio of spinning poles had been set up on the stage and Riku watches as three women pole dancers in elaborately lacy, tight costumes stroll out to dance their practiced routine. Riku recalls two of the girls’ faces, remembering that she’s she stood in to teach a handful of classes at their family’s dance studio a couple of times. Regardless, many of the men flock towards the stage to get a closer look, gawk at, and throw bills at the girls. It makes Riku want to step out for a moment. They’re not strippers, they’re pole dancers. There’s a big difference.

She pushes her chair a bit away from the table before standing and retrieving her clutch.

“Where you going?” Nanami asked, currently taking a bite of salmon.

“Bathroom.” Riku says, already waking back towards the ballroom entrance where the powder rooms and restrooms were. Riku is about to enter one but spots a more secluded bar that appears to be in a side room. She slides through the half open door’s small opening, which reveals a small yet extravagant lounge room and spread of countertop, a collection of old and expensive bottles on display behind the bar. There are only five yakuza inside and one single staff behind the bar, and this puts Riku’s mind at ease as she was happy to be away from the noise. She sits down on one of the leather bar stools, surprised by how comfy it was.

“Anything for you, ma’am?” The man behind the counter asks, wiping a class with a white rag.

Riku is already five drinks in, having had three glasses of champagne and two old fashioneds… She decides to tone it down a bit as her face was already beginning to feel warm, “Do you have a… sparkling chenin blanc by chance?”

“We do.” He smiles, “Loire Valley and all. Want to give it a try?”

“Yes, please.”

The man nods and starts to retrieve a bottle from a refrigerated shelf that’s still somehow covered in a thin sheet of dust; Riku doesn’t want to think about how expensive it is.

“Rare grape.”

Riku only notices the man behind her when he speaks up, her heart jumping in surprise when she turns to see the other half of the duo she did not want to be around tonight.

“Rare, yes, but amazing when you find a good bottle.” Riku is glad she has a few drinks in her, as her reply definitely wouldn’t have been as calm without them.

Suguru Geto plops down on the seat beside Riku, eyes holding hers as he does so. He wears a deep red shirt and a gray suit that was nearly black, his suit jacket tossed on the bar stool on the opposite side of him to reveal the red dress shirt that’s fabric is rolled up to reveal his sleeves of colorful dragon tattoos beneath which stretch all the way up to his neck. His hands were clothed in black leather gloves, “You’re right about that.” He agrees, lips curing in a small smirk as his small black eyes seemed to smile at her, “What are you doing in here?” He questions. Geto quickly diverts his attention to the bartender and taps his glass for a refill of whatever whiskey he’s drinking.

“Just needed a breather.”

Geto eyes quickly dart around around the room before refocusing on Riku, “You got a bodyguard?”

Riku rubs her fingers over the stem of her wine glass when it’s placed in front of her, “Yes.” She sighs out, “But I can handle myself.”

Geto chuckles at Riku’s response, not expecting her to be so offended by the question, “Just looking out for you, sweetheart. This is a dangerous place.” He takes a closer look at her, before raising a brow, “Ozaki family, right?”

Riku’s eyes widen in genuine surprise by the fact that he knows, sure they hadn’t personally met before, “Yeah… how’d you know?”

He lifts a finger from his glass to poke in her direction as the bartender refills it, “Your posture. I know a dancer’s body when I see one.” He takes a swig after his glass is topped off.

Riku isn’t sure why Geto’s words make her blush, but they do. She takes a sip of wine to hide it.

“What’s your name?”

She doesn’t dare lie again, “Riku.”

“What characters do you use?”

“Dignity, or awe-inspiring for the ‘Ri’ and sky for the ‘ku.’”

“That’s fitting. You’re gorgeous.” Geto’s smirk grows, but only for a moment. His smile softens as he leans over, closing a lot of the space between them. Riku is sort of startled by how intimate the other is able to make something as trivial as a greeting. Geto pokes his hand in her direction, the words spilling so soft and kindly from his mouth that they truly feel like a compliment, “Very nice to meet you, Riku. Call me Suguru.” Geto’s long black hair falls over his shoulder and Riku gets a whiff of his cologne. Of course, he smells great.

“Nice to meet you, Suguru.” Riku slowly shakes Geto’s hand, internally screaming. She could not take being so close to the drug clan’s leader for this long. Though it was just a greeting, her heart was doing backflips out of surprise, attraction, fear…? She’s unsure of which one; perhaps all three. First Gojo, now him?

“Tell me about yours-” Geto starts, but both of their thoughts are silenced by the sound of an automatic gun shooting into the air of the main ballroom.

Their eyes widen, and Riku is frozen in her seat with fear. Through the small opening of the door, she’s able to spot suited men with rifles enter the ballroom en masse, the whole room beginning to stir with yells and screams. The thunder of a hundred footsteps sounds as yakuza leaders, wives, and their adult children trample towards the main doors.

Before she realizes it, Geto is already at the side of the door in a safe position. He retrieves his handgun from his waistband and holds it expertly between his hands, ready to shoot anything or anyone that may enter the side room they were in.

The bartender and few other folks in the room had already fled, leaving just the two of them.

“You need to get out of here gorgeous.” Geto says, nodding towards the exit opposite to the door he currently stands by – that leads to the great ballroom where gunshots continuously sound. Riku is still frozen.

“Riku? Riku!” When she snaps out of her daze, Geto is at her side, her arm in his tight grasp, “I said you need to get out of here!” He shouts over the screams and shots in the ballroom. Wasn’t this supposed to be a weaponless event?!

“B-But my family!!”

“You better hope your bodyguard is protecting them,” He begins, but is cut off when two men notably from the Zenin clan appear, guns raised in Geto’s direction.

Geto doesn’t hesitate, using one hand to move Riku behind his back to shield her and the other to quickly shoot down the two men, hitting one in the hand and the other in his abdomen.

Riku watches in horror as their blood begins to spread over the marble floor, the color draining from her face.

“Zenin clan? What the fuck…?” Geto trails off in thought, not scared like Riku but equally astonished by this recent turn of events.

The two of them are both alarmed when Gojo barges through a third door Riku didn’t notice before, the white-haired man’s black spectacles now gone and his suit a bit disheveled – most likely from fighting.

His piercing blue eyes dart to Riku in confusion, “You…?” He shakes the distraction from his head before looking over at his friend, breathing heavily from previously running.

“The fuck is going on, Satoru??!”

“It’s Toji. Toji and a bunch of muscle from the Zenin clan are staring an uprising.” He walks closer to his friend and Riku, who’s still tucked behind his Geto’s back.

“Fuck.” Geto releases Riku to roughly run a hand through his hair.

“The hell are you doing here?!” Gojo peers down at Riku in confusion, anger, and concern, but mostly anger, “Your family’s already outside!”

Riku was relieved to at least hear that and opens her mouth, about to explain herself; Geto cuts her off, “We need to get her the fuck out of here.” He says, surprisingly calm.

Gojo releases an exasperated sigh, shaking his head and looking at Riku in a pissed sort of way that explains everything he isn’t saying: that she would slow them down, “Jesus Christ, beautiful, you sure are fucking good at getting your ass into trouble.” He grabs her arm, pulling her into his side before starting to make his way towards the 3rd door he’d just entered through that leads to a connecting meeting space.

Gojo and Geto are on high alert as they maneuver though the space, stopping behind tables and desks to occasionally scan the room for any hidden intruders. When a bald man in a bright orange suit enters, Gojo tosses Riku into Geto, and she yelps. Geto’s thick tattooed arm locks around her waist and pulls her into him as his friend handles the bald man with a few powerful punches and a harsh kick to his side. The man falls to the floor, immediately falling unconscious.

This continues through a series of connecting rooms, Riku practically being thrown between Gojo and Geto as they punched and shot their way through the mansion, most likely aiming for the building’s back exit. Geto feels Riku’s body tremble with fear one of the times he’s holding her and can’t help but feel for her. It’s obvious she isn’t used to this kind of violence and if this is what it means to be a member of one of the higher ranked families, then Riku wants no parts of it.

“Don’t worry, babe. We got you.” He tries to reassure her, briefly squeezing the arm he had wrapped around her waist while Gojo took out a duo of men in black suits.

Riku vaguely feels her phone vibrate from inside her clutch but it’s the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. She looks up at Geto, who’s eyes were still scanning the room. Riku could tell the soft smile on his lips was directed to her and nodded.

Suddenly, a side door busts open with a loud bang and five men pour in with guns drawn.

“Shit, beautiful, maybe not…” Suguru says so only Riku can hear.

“Everyone, hands up!” One of the armed men shout, pointing his gun in the direction of Gojo, who pushes his arms into the air in mock surrender.

“Hey, now, why don’t we settle this the old-fashioned way?” He asks with a smirk, as he was currently unarmed.

“Fuck you, Gojo.” The main man says, ignoring Satoru’s offer as fighting the strongest yakuza in Tokyo hand-to-hand was basically the same thing as letting him win, “Keep your hands up.”

Three of the men point their guns in Geto and Riku’s direction, “You two, too! Drop the gun, Geto!”

Geto does as the men say, allowing the silver handgun to thump to the floor before pushing his hands in the air. Riku follows suit, swiftly hiding her phone between her breasts before discarding her clutch altogether and raising her hands in the air.

“Out!” The fifth man commands, motioning with his gun for the three of them to exit the room and return to the main banquet hall.

The three of them slowly trail out and are led through the now completely abandoned ballroom - except for the five Zenin muscle that brought them here and one other man. Riku can tell the man is ripped just from his broad back alone. He turns and Riku sees the man she’d only heard rumors about prior to this moment.

A wicked grin spreads across his face at the sight of Gojo and Geto, and he starts to laugh, smile curving the large gash-like scar at the corner of his mouth. Toji. The undoubtedly powerful man wore a black suit like the bulk of his men, but it was visibly far more expensive than the rest. The tailored clothing just barely contained the thickness of his muscled form.

“Ah, just the people I’ve been meaning to see.”

“Awful to see you too, asshole.” Gojo replies with a smirk.

“What the fuck do you want now, Toji?” Geto asks, a look of disgust on his face. Guns still pointed at them so the three kept their hands raised.

“Well money of course, for one, but before that,” his eyes move to Riku. He walks over to her, a lustful, downright disgusting look in his eyes, “who do we have here?” He smooths his calloused, scar-littered fingers under Riku’s chin, trailing them down to her chest. She tries to push the man away, but he quickly grabs both her wrists in one of his hands, smirk only growing as Riku scowled up at the tall, bulky man.

“She’s no one,” Satoru starts, trying to protect her, “just a low rank clan family member. This isn’t about her.”

“Hey, fuck you, I’m not no one…” Riku starts, only realizing what Gojo was trying to do after the words slip from her lips. Her eyes widen.

Toji laughs again, closing the space between the two of them, “I like this one… She’s got some spunk to her.” Toji glances to Gojo and Geto with an evil look, “Would be fun to break her.”

“Toji you-” Gojo begins to move but freezes to the click of a handgun being loaded beside his ear.

“Whoa there, careful! Wouldn’t want to lose your brains now, would you?” Toji shouts, tone both overdramatic and disgusting, “Now, back to you, pretty…” He returns his gaze to Riku. Even if she’s no one to Gojo and Geto, Toji likes fucking with the duo’s sense of justice and knows they’d try to protect her regardless, “What’s your name?”

Riku spits in his face before responding, “None of your fucking business, prick.” She grumbles in anger, attitude as bad as ever. A small, satisfied smirk finds her lips as she watches her spit roll down Toji’s scarred face.

Geto exchanges looks with his friend, his exasperated expression saying everything words didn’t need to: Is this bitch crazy? Spitting at Toji??!

Toji’s grin turns into an unsatisfied look, clicking his tongue at Riku’s actions, “Now that’s not the answer I was looking for…” He shakes his head, removing his trailing fingers from Riku’s body before brutally smacking his palm over Riku’s cheek with a hard thump.

Riku’s head twists to the side, and she immediately begins to taste blood in her mouth as it is, without question, the strongest slap she’s ever received in her life. Pain jolts in the bones of her neck and she already begins to feel the skin of her face bruise and swell.

Toji grabs Riku’s face, and she feels like he could crush her skull in his hand if he wanted to. A tear streams down her swollen check at the intense pain. The man with spiky black hair repeats himself, an angered look in his eyes in response to Riku’s disrespectful action, “Your name.” He demands.

“Ymvr…” Riku mutters, barely able to speak with Toji’s grip on her jaw.

“What was that?” He leans in closer to the girl with a smirk as she writhes in pain, ear pushing closer to her lips.

“Your mother.” She finally manages, using Toji’s grip on her hands to steady herself as she quickly raises her legs, the bulky man now unintentionally holding her weight in the air as she swiftly sends the strongest kick she can manage to his balls.

“Agh!!” Toji’s face twists and he yells in agony, both him and Riku collapsing to the floor.

Gojo and Geto exchange looks again, both using the surprise of this situation as an opportunity to take out the two men directly behind each of them, first twisting and jabbing their arms to steal their guns away. They quickly make work of the rest of the five men, shooting some in non-vital places and kicking others.

All the while, Toji is groaning from the floor, “You bitch…!” He spits between clenched teeth, hands cupping his crotch.

Riku stumbles to her feet, abandoning her one remaining high heel before making a dash for the back door, “Coming?” She questions as she quickly breezes past Gojo and Geto, who had just finished kicking the last of the Zenin muscle.

“Yeah, let’s get the fuck outta here.” Gojo says with a final kick, and the two run out the door behind Riku.

“Uhh, car?!” Riku half asks, half yells once they’re outside, praying one of the two men had one nearby.

“Mhm, this way,” The dark of the night sky temporarily camouflages the men outside of Geto’s red shirt and Gojo’s white hair, that is, until Riku’s eyes adjust. Gojo reaches forward, “Matter of fact…” he grabs Riku’s waist and throws her over his shoulder, already beginning to move in an all-out sprint.

Riku yelps at suddenly being manhandled, now only able to see the white of Geto’s smirk as he ran behind Gojo. He thought this was funny?!

“What are you doing?!” She whisper-yells.

“Sorry, babe, easier to move this way.” Gojo gives the back of Riku’s thigh a small smack, that makes her face turn bright red with embarrassment.

Geto tries to hold back a laugh but fails after seeing the look on Riku’s face.

Finally they arrive at a large garage and Gojo hits a code into a keypad at the side of the building, Riku still over his shoulder. The door slowly rises off the ground and they slip in, Gojo grabbing the keys to his Lamborghini Urus before unlocking the doors.

Riku is thrown into the back seat and before she can get her bearings together, the engine is starting and the SUV wheels screech forward from a halt and out of the driveway.

Geto looks back at Riku from the passenger seat, “Buckle up, Riku, this guy’s a shit driver.” He smirks.

“That’s not true, I’m a great driver. Especially in these conditions—“ Gojo says with a sharp turn of the wheel and suddenly they’re speeding through the grass of the courtyard. Riku hears a few gunshots sound in the distance and buckles up before putting her head down. There's the yelling of a few Zenin clan men and the gunshots continue, a few bullets even piercing the back of the window, but none pass through.

Gojo chuckles when he quickly glances at Riku in the rear-view window, “It’s bulletproof, babe.” He explains, then takes another sharp turn to a roughly 400-meter-long driveway that leads to the main road.

Riku slowly sits up, worriedly looking out each of the windows before seeing that they were finally at a good enough distance from the Gojo estate. She takes a shaky, deep breath to calm herself down, almost wanting to cry at everything that had just transpired.

“Hey,” Geto’s tattooed arm reaches back, and he brushes his leather-covered thumb over Riku’s swollen red cheek, “You alright, beautiful?”

She looks up at him, the fear finally beginning to fade from her eyes. She’s safe with them. Riku nods, shakily.

“What a night!” Gojo laughs, “I mean who the fuck was expecting that?”

“Right?” Geto grins at his friend.

Riku furrows her bows, “You both think it’s funny? All those people hurt and in danger?!”

Gojo’s smile fades, “Oh no, that? That was absolutely fucked up… Also you don’t think I’m upset they pulled that shit in my house?” He switches from anger to charm so quick it’s almost scary, “But come on, Riku, that ‘your mother’ line was fucking priceless and you know it.” Gojo smirks again.

Geto laughs, still looking back at her from the front passenger seat, “You’re a legend, Riku. I don’t know how many people living can say they kicked Toji in the balls.”

Gojo laughs but his hand grips the gearshift so hard that his knuckles are white. He isn’t kidding; Riku understands that Gojo is probably the angriest yakuza in Tokyo tonight.

Riku joins in on their laughter with a small giggle, trying to ease the mood.

Geto turns back around to face the front but squeezes Riku’s thigh before looking to his friend, “Satoru, let’s get her some ice and take her home.”

“Yeah,” Gojo agrees and adjusts his mirror to get a better look at Riku, ��fucked to see a pretty face bruised up like that.” He pauses, thinking for a moment, “You hungry at all, beautiful?”

“Starving.” Riku admits, regretting not having eaten her meal at the gala.

“Good, ‘cause I know a place and got a few calls to make.”

Geto looks at his friend knowingly, “You need some of my men?”

Gojo shakes his head and lowers his tone, giving Geto a hard look, “Not in front of her. She’s already in the mix of things enough as it is.”

Geto nods.

Gojo raises his voice again, “We’ll take you to one of our favorite spo-"

He’s cut off by Riku’s phone that loudly vibrates in her chest. She’d forgotten it was there. Riku retrieves the iPhone from inside her bra and sees ‘NANAMI’ flash across the screen. She quickly slides her finger across to talk. Before she can say anything—

“Riku! Fuck, finally!! Where are you?!!” He yells through the line.

“Nanami, I’m good, I’m fine… I’m in the car with Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo.”

“You’re what!?”

“It’s fine! They’re going to take me home, okay?”

“Is that Nanamin? Tell him I say hi!” Gojo happily beams, shouting from the driver’s seat.

Apparently Nanami hears that because he groans, “Jeez, Ri, what the hell happened?!”

Riku sighs, “A lot. But the gist is… Toji slapped me in the face, I kicked him in the balls, and we got away.”

“You WHAT??!?!!”

Riku laughs awkwardly, “But we got away and things are fine for now. They’re gonna take me home after we stop and get some ice for my face.”

Nanami is silent for a moment, and Riku can sense his anger through the phone, “Put Satoru on the phone, right fucking now.”

Riku hands her iPhone to Gojo, who quickly takes it and answers with a bright, bubbly tone, “Nanamin! How are you?”

“Look. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, or what business you have to do to clean this shit up, but if Riku comes back here tonight with anything more than a bruised cheek, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Gojo smiles at the seriousness in Nanami’s tone, “Wow, Kento, I didn’t know you cared about your job so much… What are you in love with her or something?” Gojo grins over at Geto in the passenger seat, “Yeah, yeah, Riku delivery service is on the way.” He glances back at her for a moment before refocusing on the road, “We won’t let anything happen to her. But you know, it’s the fault of her smart-ass mouth that made Toji slap her, anyways.” He shrugs.

“…That unfortunately sounds about right.”

“Well, okay, Nanamin! You’re kind of breaking up,” Gojo shouts, turning up the music from the car stereo as he held the phone between his head and shoulder, “so, talk to ya later!” Once he’s finished increasing the volume to near-max levels, Gojo retrieves the phone once more and hits ‘end’ on the call before tossing it back to Riku, who swiftly clasps it between her two hands.

Riku rolls her eyes and sits back into her seat, knowing she was in for a wild ride in more ways than one.

#jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #stsg angst #satosugu #geto smut #gojo smut #jjk fanart #jjk au #alternate universe #jjk mafia au #jjk mob au #jjk gangster au #nanami kento #gojo satoru #geto suguru #getou suguru #nanami smut #nanami x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x oc #gojo x oc #geto x oc #nanami kento x oc #gojo satoru x oc #geto suguru x oc #fushiguro toji #toji x oc #fushiguro toji x oc #toji x reader

[locution-youngster-enjoyer]

Gonna rant about my villain OC’s under the cut (TW: dr*gs mentioned briefly)

CC

Any pronouns but preferably they/them (their personal philosophy is that “The only labels I believe in are designer!”)

Somewhere in late 20s

CC’s whole thing is that they are a fashion designer. Alignment wise they are very neutral, living by the idea that “any customer is a friend of mine, but any enemy of my customer is also my enemy.” Design wise they have a mullet hairstyle that is various shades of a blue/cyan color, light skin, and brown eyes. They will usually wear a white button down shirt that is slightly open, black slacks with a multicolor pattern on them, measuring tape instead of a belt that sticks out in a tail-like kind of way, and knee-high black boots with high heels. They usually where a lot of makeup and jewelry.

Power and fighting wise, they are not overly superhuman. Their intense knowledge of fashion helps provide them with various weapons, their main ones being Claw-Rings that they use not only to attack, but to also sew together clothing like a spider. They can also attach other bits of cloth to the rings.

Personality wise they are very upbeat and friendly. They are never mean to someone’s face, but will make snide remarks behind their back. Think similar to Mettaton from Undertale. If Wordgirl were a darker show, there would be a more unhinged side to CC suggesting that out of all the villains, they’ve probably have committed the worst crime ethically speaking and their personality would come across as much more bi-polar.

Ozzy and Mandy

Ozzy (he/him) and Mandy (she/her) are twins. It’s hard to tell their age because of how young and pretty they look.

Although both of them are villains, Ozzy has worse intent than Mandy. These two have two gimmicks, the first one being that they speak in Iambic Pentameter (so around 10 syllables per sentence). Their second gimmick is that they manipulate emotions and specifically make others fall in love with them. Most love poems are written in Iambic Pentameter and even their names are based of the poem Ozymandias, another poem written in Iambic Pentameter.

Mandy has curly black hair that goes slightly passed her shoulders and light skin with blue eyes. She wears a black and pink dress with a slit and fluffy pink sleeves, and high heels. A lot of her design features the symbol for women. Ozzy has similar skin and eyes with that stereotypical boy-band hairstyle. He wears a lot of black and blue, this time with a t-shirt exposing his chest, a sleeveless denim jacket, and black jeans, with the symbol for men being featured a lot.

Their main power involves emotional manipulation in a way that’s technically just mind control. To control a person, they have to either kiss them or blow colored fog (Mandy gets pink and Ozzy gets blue) in their face. Another big power they have is the ability to create several extra wispy, fog-like arms (once again, the color is different depending on who is doing it). Besides that, the two do t have many powers but can put up a decent physical fight.

Mandy, though she can be malicious, is also big on the theme of consent when it comes to romance and tends to be the more caring of the two. People generally prefer her over her brother. Ozzy is more interested in his own personal gain and has grown salty of people favoring his sister over him. Again, if wordgirl was a darker show, I feel like at one point the two could be used as an allegory for substance abuse, since there powers are really trippy.

#wordgirl #wordgirl villains #wordgirl oc #please let me know if you want to hear more about them #thanks for letting me rant

[sharpchinsimp]

Steve Haines headcanons list

I finally did it! Don't take it very seriously, I wrote this just for lulz because I think Steve is one of the funniest characters in the game along with Devin and Lamar. I'm not gonna romanticize or justify my redhead bastard, he's awful and pathetic and I love him for it.

Maybe I will write Steve x Dave and Steve x Devin ship headcanons later.

He worries about his age and devotes a lot of time to skin care. He often visits a beauty salons and spas and spents a lot of money to stay as charming as he is. Also his hair color is fake (as seen in the photo on his ID) he dyes it to look more catchy since he became a TV star.

Despite all this, Steve has terrible taste in fashion. His home wardrobe is full of expensive silk robes and underwear with gaudy crazy prints (American flag briefs? Tiger briefs? Yes), stupid T-shirts. That's what Dave meant by "horrible outfits", not Steve's uniform.

He's not as successful as he seems to be. In his youth Steve was purposeful, cunning and smart and quickly achieved career success and promotion, but then he became conceited. Now he is holding on to his former glory in the bureau, shifting his work to others who do it just as well, and it is very painful for him to admit this. Most of his exploits are lies, he was cool hero about 10 years ago.

 He was used to spending all his time with a cup of latte at work, and he is unlikely to remember how to fight if his opponent is not tied to a chair. If you take the gun away from him and hit him on his pretty face a couple of times, he will cry, literally.

His mom overprotected and spoiled him, so he is pampered, narcissistic and a little infantile. It is also difficult for him to take on any responsibility, even his precious work he trusted first to Andreas, then to Dave. But his mother also taught him to love himself and her, and she's the only person Steve really respects. 

Me and my friend have a headcanon in which Mrs. Haines killed her husband and Steve helped her get rid of the body and cover up the crime. Now Mr. Haines Sr. is buried somewhere near Chiliad, wrapped in a carpet. And I don't think his father was a bad or abusive person, Steve just doesn't feel anything to him.

He does not tolerate cold weather and loves warmth and sun. This delicate flower can catch a cold very easily, it is enough for him to get caught in the rain or sit under the air conditioner. He is also very dramatic when he is ill.

He has an instagram with a bunch of selfies and narcissism and a crowd of haters and trolls in the comments.

He doesn't know how to drink at all. If he drinks anything stronger than wine, it will end up screaming, fighting, crying, falling on the lawn, disgusting singing and dancing, phone calls to Dave at 3am and all that shit.

Sometimes I like the idea that Agent 14 is Steve’s younger brother. Agent 14 fans, don't blame me, I don't know how old he is and didn't find this info, but he looks 10-15 years younger than Steve. After the divorce of their parents, one stayed with his mother, the second with his father. They hate each other so much that one went to the FIB and the other to the IAA to have a reason to hate each other even more lol. (Maybe that's why Agent 14 uses that name, not only because of the conspiracy, he hates calling himself Agent Haines due to associations with Steve)

He's having trouble sleeping. That's why he looks a little tired with those black circles and unshaven face. However, he likes to sleep a lot and gets up late.

Steve likes to annoy others and make scandals out of nothing. He is a typical male Karen and brawls in restaurants, beauty salons, coffee shops, nightclubs, everywhere. There are many places in Los Santos where he is blacklisted.

His true love is himself, but he is generally bisexual. He prefers young girls to feel like college handsome boy, or older men because of father figure and money.

Dating him is a nightmare. Steve makes partners pay for him, spends a lot of money on nonsense, can't just shut up for a second, draws all the attention to himself and behaves terribly selfishly. 

(Slightly NSFW) He may have a control kink and likes to dominate, but mostly he's sensitive lazy bottom in bed, especially for Devin. Not even "power" bottom. Steve thinks he doesn't have to do anything for partner, he has pretty face and nice body and that's enough, people are made to please him and all they deserve is a couple of scratches, bites and hickeys. It's similar to his personality in general, he wants to be a tough, hyper-masculine guy, but he's actually a whiny selfish bitch.

#steve haines #headcanons #it was hard to translate all of this shit.. i hope it's readable

[boeswhore]

Hi s! Congrats again on 1.7k! May I please have a ship? Tbh idk how to consolidate a description of myself. I’m apologizing now. This is as consolidated as I can be. I’m a sun june born Gemini and moon and rising scorpio so I’m all the crazy and chaos.

I’m 5’4” ish. Dark brown curly hair but I have bleached highlights so I’m fake blonde withy natural roots. Green eyes. Eyebrow game strong ish. Pretty light skin despite living in Arizona lol. Very expressive face. I hated my hair growing up but I learned to love it and properly take care of it. Reasons I’m a sucker for curls.

Also a fruit cocktail according to my grandma since I’m mixed with a whole lotta stuff. Reasons I relate to turning red more than expected. Also why I screamed when Raya was announced since Southeast Asia doesn’t get a whole lotta representation. A giant family on all sides I know of. Also family in 13 states. They’re crazy but I love them. I’m the self proclaimed black and rainbow sheep.

My style isn’t very consistent tbh. Like one day I could be in my pop punk/emo clothes but the next in super bright and colorful east coast prep vibes clothes. But then I have a variety of clothes to disneybound in. And Disney and other pop culture shirts and such. I wear pretty much whatever I want. My sweatshirt collection hit 50 finally. I think. I live in my Birkenstock’s during the summer and my various boots in the winter. Also for games. I collect loungefly and similar fandom purses. Mostly tangled and Disney.

Hobbies besides hockey: arts and crafts (so many mainly - watercolor, stamping and embossing, printmaking (making stamps and stencils and such), drawing, cricut machine, card making, etc), bullet journal (art/junk/mindfulness journal and planner), music (will elaborate), Disney (tangled and turning red), crime and medial and first responder shows (greys, station 19, castle, the 9-1-1s), horror, coffee and tea, self care, writing (duh), milkshakes, and traveling.

Main hockey teams: flames, kraken, Canucks, devils, avs, canes. But I love various players on teams throughout the league. The sh*t list: Pittsburgh, Edmonton, TB, Boston, chi town.

My music tastes gives me whiplash. Disney, pop punk, show tunes (selective but six is queen), metalcore, pop, emo and other similar genres, bimbocore, alt, indie, more subgenres than even I can remember. I have a record player and my vinyls are only albums I’m willing to listen all the way through. I love(d) going to concerts. I’m a flower princess. Glitter, sequins, flower crown. Top artists: set it off, grayscale, ice nine kills, Taylor swift, scene queen, as it is, with confidence, the summer set, and softcult.

24 almost 25. Seattle native, uni outside Philly, currently a desert queen in AZ. Energetic ball of chaos. Unhinged. Vibes of: Mabel pines, rapunzel, like half of the castle cast, dug form up, april and Amelia and Meredith with a dash of Arizona from greys, mei and Abby and Miriam from turning red. Sarcastic and slightly dark and definitely self deprecating sense of humor. Chronic migraines with anxiety, adhd, and insomnia thrown in. I put my heart and soul into everything I love and do.

Thank you again and I am very sorry for how long this is but anything shorter won’t capture my true self. You can ask ally lol. You are absolutely amazing for reading all of this and for hosting this event. 😘 stay fabulous

hihi m, i love you so much always 💗

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i ship you with matthew tkachuk !

i read that you love curls hair part and my mind immediately went to him once i saw you like the flames ! the style you have goes so well with matthew. this guy has no solid outfit plan, he’ll be dressed up so sophisticated one day and literally look like he just rolled out of bed the next day but i can see you both having complimentary outfits ! i can see him living in sweatshirts so that makes the two of you as well ! when it comes to hobbies; he would love that you know the rules of hockey and would love for you to come root for him during each game he plays !also i know he would be so supportive and sweet over any art make ! omg i can also see him crafting with you and both of you having like little competitions on whose work is better (obviously yours duh) but it will legit become his favourite past time hobby as well, just creating all of these art works (you’re so freaking creative it’s insane) he would also love that you don’t like oilers since the battle of alberta and all so that’s also a plus side ;) definitely lots of concerts together, i can see him belting to disney music with you ! when it comes to ur migraines i just know he’s super caring and will try his best to comfort you and get you anything you need ! overall, the cutest couple in my eyes <3

#s’ 1.7 k celly

[cockmcstuffins]

alright so now i’m subjecting you all to my opinions on the new film red casual outfits because what am i if not the occasional one piece design critic so in order of worst to best we have

zoro: again my man is wearing joots and yes it’s entirely possible it’s the same situation as his year one outfit where they just don’t draw the line clear and concise between pants and boots but paired with the shirt that looks less like a shirt and more like a wayward drifting bag he lifted his arms up and let fall onto his body i am not putting it past him. all their attempts from recent movies to make him look ‘cool and effortless’ are translating more into ‘no one on the crew can get him into more clothes than necessary much like a baby and/or toddler and they just put on as few articles of clothing as they can get him into in order to be considered legally decent enough to appear in public’ but everyone owes me ten bucks if that shirt becomes a tearaway because she’s holding on by a thread she’s struggling she is clinging

sanji: i am yet again denied ‘sanji in a cardigan’ for the upteemth time in a row and as the hate crimes continue so does the god awful combo of SALMON BOAT SHORTS and a blazer in a true testament to my-parents-own-a-boat-and-it’s-my-personality fashion in a nausea-inducing pastel ketchup and mustard a la carte a la fart look. i have seen this man, i have encountered this man, i can name a time/date/name and place and my friends will know exactly who i am talking about. there is a crate and barrel with this man’s name on it, there is a california pizza kitchen he should be vaping near. and yes i am not ignoring the scarf he appears to have tucked into his hane’s t-shirt like he’s trying to appropriate the ascot. you are not peter facinelli’s carlise, you will never be peter facinelli’s carlisle, and peter facinelli’s carlisle i am so sorry an ugly bitch would ever do this to you.

nami: boring! sorry but we’ve seen this combination of bikini top/indistinguishable short bottom either skirt or shorts/heels so many times on nami since post time-skip that it seems like that’s actually just her skin and she’s some kind of eldritch sex horror alien who can’t make interesting fashion choices because the design team is legally obligated to draw her with her cooter and pooter on full fucking display. with the music festival/concert theme, we could have seen a myriad of interesting fashion choices for her but instead we get the same shit, different color of an outfit that oddly has schoolgirl vibes between a plaid skirt and a button-up shirt tied around her waist that i’m 90% sure is an accessory recycled from the previous movie. it’s also in a starfish orange or kroger brand salmon that feels like the most disingenuous choice because it’s just her usual color scheme but watered down. disappointed, but not surprised. also her boots look like watering cans i hate when they give them those fucking shoes.

luffy: if anybody has a same-outfit syndrome it’s luffy and that has been the case for the past 20+ years of one piece if there’s a way luffy can wear jean shorts and shirts he will wear jean shorts and shirts if there is a way he can manage to wear jeans shorts and shirts at his own wedding, funeral, sojourn past the pearly gates i have it on good authority he will do exactly that THAT BEING SAID it’s light, it’s airy, it’s giving me fun, it’s giving me day out and while i am sure the vest has some other purpose and may be a different accessory i am picturing it as his equivalent of a fanny pack or old man fishing vest like he’s got juice boxes in that thing or he’s got adderal he’s got whatever is going to get him through this concert/festival and god bless him honestly we love a consistent king

chopper: i can never be mad at any of the choices for chopper because he seems to fit a very specific niche for the design team because he’s a fucking reindeer but it’s not uncommon for his outfit in his brain point form to be completely indiscernible as anything other than jacket and shorts until he happens to switch to heavy point or another form and then we can see the crimes. i’m not mad i’m just unimpressed with yet another modified theme hat, accessories out the wazoo he’s definitely not going to be able to hold onto (or the animators won’t bother to make him hold onto as the movie goes), and what appears to just be a thematic mess that speaks to nothing about chopper as a character. she’s a bit bland is all i’m saying, your honor, she can do better!

usopp: another theme case where usopp’s outfits are either completely unique or (still unique) but ruled entirely by the theme of the movie. we don’t hate that for him we love to see it actually, but the kiss party city costume is exactly that- a clear and deliberate reference, nothing that really gives his character anything extra, and a fucking eyesore amidst the rest of the team and that’s definitely on purpose. usopp will either lose pieces of this outfit as the movie plays or the change into their end-game outfits will be super quick because i really don’t see him holding onto this one outside of the visual gimmick/gag it’s supposed to provide. but you know what it’s camp and he even technically has a cod piece so yes this is higher up on the list than the others fuck you.

robin: another boring one sorry about it! i like the leather jacket and i like the attempt at asymmetry with the two different boots and the leg accessory but it’s very much a casual concert goer look and too grounded in realism for a one piece movie outfit when paired with the rest of her crewmates in this batch. i have no problems with this outfit on its own, i would make no changes, but if she could have had any other outfit she wouldn’t be the same missed opportunity as nami. like it’s a fucking concert and the design team just went frozen and made our two female crew members pretty and practical. robin could have had any number of face paint designs or hair accessories or spikes or leather or anything and we got like. a sundress to cover her absolute lack of existing ass or pelvic bones.

franky: i can’t fault franky for being what is probably the one character the design team has fun with every time without fail but the beatbox is the same gimmicky, won’t last very long or won’t feature super prominently because it’s too hard to draw look that we’ll probably see with usopp. as an unfortunate side effect this is giving me less music festival and more optimus prime but like a shitty cardboard optimus prime someone made in the 1980s in their basement because transformers was cool but their mom didn’t want to get the store bought costume and if they showed up to trick or treating without it they would be mocked endlessly at the 4th grade water cantina. and his expression in most of the promo art is not not giving me that? so i dunno man

brook & jinbe: perfection as usual. glad to see jinbe is joining brook in impeccable design for the movies club. i have no notes.

#i did not proof read this and you all have to deal with it #sara's not watching the one about pirates #arjay this is very similar to my rant about the folsense fashion failure underneath the white suit from movie gold #if you remember that because i do

[soaringonblackwings]

Title: Wind Underneath Your Wings

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh 5D's

Chapters: 2/5

External: AO3 / FF.net / SquidgeWorld

Summary: It's time for the WRPG and unfortunately Crow has an accident that puts him on the bench. With a broken shoulder he spends his free time coaching a team of girls at the local community center.

A re-write of the team Catastrophe duel. Also giving Crow a B-plot that connects to him becoming a coach in the epilogue.

Crow got an early start getting ready for his day at the community center. Looking at the info board today is the second half of round one of the Little League Grand Prix. It will be a busy day today. He signed in and was greeted by Ryoko in the office.

“Hello Crow. I did not think I would be seeing you again so soon.” She said. “Yesterday you seemed unsure of yourself.”

“I am completely sure of my decision,” Crow firmly shook his head. “Now, who am I coaching?”

“You will help out anyone who needs it.” Ryoko hands him a tag with the word ‘coach’ on it. “No one knows about you yet except my sisters. Hopefully, that will change in the future. For now you can just keep an eye on things and enjoy the tournament.”

Crow was left to his own devices as Ryoko had to take care of things. Crow went to the miscellaneous room to clean up there. He was doing odd jobs for the day. In the meantime he met Ryoko’s sisters, the other managers of the community center: Jade and Muckraker. Soon the contestants of the tournament pooled into the building.

Crow would watch the duels when on his downtime.

“I can’t believe they are letting criminals on the property.” A boy said from beside Crow. He was no older than eight or nine saying words with such disgust. “My parents will hear about this. Having a criminal around will only make people feel unsafe.”

This kid had a lot of mouth. A white button up shirt with suspenders attached to black dress pants. No matter how you look at it this kid came from money.

“Ha ha ha! He is doing volunteer hours for a crime!” The loudmouth next in the lineup laughed. He was wearing a white button up that had ruffles on the wrist and collar. He had on black jeans.

The third friend was disinterested in everything and everyone around him. He had on a puffer jacket and black sweatpants.

“Xitto, Phovi, and Taxus! Lay off!” On Crow’s other side a girl spoke up. She had pale skin and red hair being held back by a multicolored headband. She was wearing a short cream-colored t-shirt with a striped pink and red skirt, long black tights, and brown shoes, and has a blue bracelet on her left arm. “He is the new coach. He matches Ms. Ryoko’s description. He has not done anything wrong so let him enjoy the competition.”

“Humph. No matter, my parents will have him fired by morning.” The kid name Xitto stuck his nose in the air and walked away with his two friends.

Crow had never delt with such impudent children before.

“Do not mind him. He is the typical bratty rich kid.” The next girl said. She had light-brown skin with blue eyes and puffy burgundy hair arranged in two bunches on each side of her head. She is wearing a white shirt under a dark pink vest dress. “My name is Amanda.”

“I am Allie.” The red head girl introduces herself. She turns and points to another girl beyond Amanda. “She is Guu. She is not much of a talker.”

Guu nodded. She had deep dark skin and stormy grey eyes. Her cloudy pink hair was done up in one into a single puff. She is wearing a dress that has various star patterns on it. Crow noted that all three girls had a duel disk on their arms.

“We have a question um….” Allie says.

“Crow. Call me Crow.” He said.

“I have a question about a card. Let us go to the miscellaneous room.” Allie said.

The three girls all run off before Crow ask if they had a match. He did not want them to miss their turn. Or they already fought and there was no reason to worry.

In the miscellaneous room the girls showed him the card they had a question on. They wanted to know if it could have been activated during the opponents turn. Crow read the text and it did say ‘once per turn.’ It turned into a whole thing of explaining effects and cards that can be explained during both players turns and ones that could only be activated during the player’s turns.

"See I told you it could have been activated on the opponent’s turn." Allie looks at Guu, who shrunk in on herself. All Guu did was nod in agreement.

“Hey, lets not get carried away now.” Crow said trying to dispel in antagonism amongst the group before it got out of control.

“But she almost cost us the game.” Allie says.

“Look I know you want to win but what does it matter if you are going to are gonna hurt your friend in the process. You are all inexperienced and you should use that inexperience to help each other grow.” Crow walked over to Guu to return her card. “Guu, was it? Now that you know more about the card more strategies are open for you.”

Guu nods putting the card back in her deck.

“You didn’t know how your cards worked at one point.” Amanda said. “So don’t be too hard on Guu.”

Allie reflects on her actions and words. “You are right. I am sorry Guu.”

Guu nods and both girls hug.

“I-I’ll do better in round two….” Guu says.

“I will too.” Amanda chimes in.

Allie wraps her arms around here friends. “I will too! I will have a better attitude then too.”

Crow smiled and saw them off. He was definitely going to have his hands full with these three.

#crow hogan #yugioh 5ds #ygo 5ds #the cameo characters show up here

[byte-the-bullet]

Discovery and Breakage

This is a trope story, I know-but it’s a story I like.

Noblessica Mhyö, the legendary detective, and… A total asshole. What a jerk, seriously, yes he was incredible at his job, he could solve a case within the first 24 hours of being introduced into it-but he was honestly an asshole. Then there’s the fact that he retired by walking into the office-only taking his ashtray off of his desk-throwing his name plate in the trash-then never coming back. Everyone there was too confused and concerned to be angry, he’d been there for almost 15 years, same routine, same coffee, same desk. And now there’s some barely 20 rookie at his door? Christ. “Who are you.” He wasn’t asking some question, he was demanding to know. The woman quickly responded to him, “What, you don’t remember me? Silvia Daroa!” She was peppy as ever, and knew what he was going to say next-shoving her heel between the door and doorframe-as he was about to say something-“Let me guess, you don’t care?” She giggled, and he sighed-“Fine, what do you want.” He glared, “Well, 20$, but-at the moment I’d just like you to help me check out a case!” She said, “You aren’t very funny… Drop the cheery attitude and come in.” He replied, opening the door-“Grk-! Nobless- why does it smell like-“ She coughed a bit, “What’s with the cigarette smell?!” She kept coughing-and he snickered-“Why do you think?” She started opening every window she could-coughing the whole time, and noticing the overflowing ashtrays. “Nobless- how many- damn-“ She counted 23 ashtrays in one room, all overflowing, and despite this-the house was extremely clean, and although she thought he’d be the drinking type too-not an alcoholic beverage in sight. Just a whole bag of cigarette boxes, at least 50 or so. “You’re just about the dumbest kid I’ve ever seen, walking into some 55 year old’s house, not knowing just by my voice that I’m a heavy smoker, and above all else? Thinking I care about whatever case you’re working. Oh, and, you’ve got some cruddy jokes.” He listed all of this out in a bland tone, but Silvia was too busy coughing to care about his opinions. He began to fix his jacket, zipping it up despite the 70 degree weather. His outfit was very… un-stylish. Simple gray sweatpants, a black jacket, white T shirt, and for some reason, white tactical sandals. Nobless looked dead inside at all times, heavy bags under his eyes, peppered stubble and gray hair with black undertones, his hair mopped over his gray-red eyes, concealing his extremely pale and slightly grayish skin-his nails were well kept though. Silvia however, was the very definition of style. Her outfit was as follows, a light pink plaid dress shirt, white jeans, yellow hairpins and pink clips, white sneakers, and a pink tote bag. Her hair was rosegold and blonde under the dye, and her eyes were an oceanic blue, nails decorated with sparkling pink glitter and little white pearls, sure she wasn’t wearing any makeup other than blush, but she was still beautiful-even with the clear dermis patches on her neck. These two were exact opposites, and that included height-Nobless was 6’3. Tall as all hell. Skipping back to her task at hand, Silvia began laying out the crime scene photos. Nobless took one look at her expression and knew she didn’t mind the gore. “So short stack doesn’t mind blood, huh?” He muttered-“I heard that-and no! By the way, Smokey, call me short again and you’ll regret it!” He got a kick outta that, “Please! You’re 5’1, I’ve never seen someone as short as you! Wait, hah, there’s a toddler down the street twice your height! And what’re you gonna do? Spill glitter on me?” She glared, reached into her purse, and pulled out hot pink hair chalk. “So what if I do?” He started laughing to himself until he fell into a coughing fit. “Go ahead pipsqueak, I’m gonna start reading into the case-oh, and while you’re at it, mind if I borrow some of your hairclips?” He sat down, “Kay’ what colors?” She got some clips out and kept giggling. “I don’t care.” Just when she thought he was warming up to her, he immediately went back to being stone cold.

#bytethebullet #story #original story #wip

[zooterchet]

Live a Hero, Die a Villain

Joker is a Scandinavian Jew, posing as Irish or Polish, an "Orion", a finder of lost things.

Lex Luthor is a Wampanoag Khanate, performing a legendary formula trick, to avenge a crime of public status, reversing the courts and the tyranny of the public.

Batman is a blind Romalian O'Neill, in the arts. He's a martial artist by catching arranged marriages, as evidenced by a pedophile anti-drug advocate in the family.

Superman is a Somali-Jew Caucasian, in a Bastet cult. They make books, comics, and art, to support prisoners, convicts, and those accused of the law.

Joker: The return of Diane Charlebois’s broach to her, stolen by Will Morgan Jr., by convincing Will Morgan that Ryan Cunningham’s jeweler’s safes, were full of “drugs, the good kind”, not Benzos, for man-rape and slaughter of Pilgrims, as Will Morgan’s affidavit read in court. Will Morgan received a day in court, and an apology, from the State of Massachusetts, for being treated so harshly, as one of Adolf Hitler’s descendants (here in the States, he’d say, to be Mister James Bond, a print planted on Ian Fleming; an Irish Lutheran terrorist, 007, irresistible for Israelis to steal, “EON Productions”, a Musk brand).

Lex Luthor: The submission of Heroes Dreams MUSH character, “Hideous Karl”, in 2001, framing OJ Simpson, as Tom Waits, in the Hollywood feature film, “The Dark Knight”. By going into the mind of a murderer, OJ Simpson determined who killed Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman, then put them in jail (it was James Holmes’ father, a Los Angeles state trooper with MI-6, the actual one, not the lame movie ripoff of the faggot in the suit; they wear jackets and t-shirts and black khakis, commando crepe boots when out on "patrol”, “knockoffs” on a prison rapist, any skin color, any victim, any reason). He then printed a book, gave it to the Goldman family for money and his false confession, inspired by my story of killing Heath Ledger for cross-gendering his daughter for a snuff film, and set himself up on charges, as a Cuban Catholic agent, to share the prison system with James Holmes, BWTF alumni Chevalier, and former M3 director, “Libra”, the MUSH scene. James Holmes, with OJ’s humorous charge, has been raped and desiccated dozens of times, in fun and amusing ways, many of them on the news.

Batman: The print of the song and video, “Fairytale of New York City”, to bring respect back to the NYPD, among 9/11 survivors, having placed himself in jail before the attacks, to predict them, despite being born blind. The Mossad warning, stopped six planes and busted Keanu Reeves, the eleventh; my print, on SW1 MUSH, caught six, but the Mossad demanded to use lawyers as their spies, failing the register of my print as four. Keanu Reeves was saved by Robert Lipton, “due to his age”, a major Hollywood broker. The NYPD remains dishonored, by the failure to catch MI-6 operative Richard Coughlin, a sexual servant of Jenny O'Neill, a Romali with Down's Syndrome, emoting and evoking “Queen of the Damned”, starring Aaliyah, for sex with Hispanics and Latinos and sometimes Jews. Rich Coughlin, hunts spies, both passed and flunked, for failing Hopkinton gymnastic standards, giving all men a tiny penis and all women flatulence, for even attempting them, to work for the Respite Center, a commune for the retarded (Down’s Syndrome).

Superman: The inception of Covid-19, to kill anyone that’s never had a cigarette, or never had alcohol, either or. Lincoln Stinks.

[woneschoosy]

Do you love unique slogans on your apparel then you will appreciate one with my skin color is not a crime t-shirt displayed on https://choosywones.com/collections/t-shirts/products/my-skin-color-is-not-a-crime?variant=32955034009688?

#My skin color is not a crime t-shirt

[mcmoth]

I've been thinking about headcanons and reworking my designs lately, so here's my latest take on c!crime boys ^^ Credit for the idea of c!Tommy having face paralysis goes to @ghostly-tart btw!

Oh, also, forgot to write this point, but c!Wilbur no longer wears a beanie because he likes to feel the sun in his hair ^^

ID (with the text, in case you can't read it in the image) under cut, since it's kinda long:

[ID: full body, colored illustrations of character Tommyinnit and Wilbur Soot from the Dream SMP. The background looks like old paper, and there is text placed beside the art.

Wilbur is a pale, tall man with curly brown hair that has a streak of grey. He is wearing a yellow sweater that has blue stiches in the chest area and that has blotches of the same blue on it like paint. He's also wearing a worn, brown trench coat, and ripped black plants. His skin has streaks of green and red, like a zombie, and his ears are furry and gray, like a fox's, along with a fluffy tail, which has a bloody bandage wrapped around a part of it.

The text says:

Fox genes (silver fox)

Tinted glasses to shield from the sunlight (senses sensitive after limbo)

Skin warped and discolored in places (after ressurection)

Sweater from Ghostbur (they merged, suck it cc!Wilbur /lighthearted)

Chest pains (due to getting stabbed)

Chronic fatigue (even before death)

Next to this is an uncolored doodle of young Wilbur and human Technoblade. Wilbur is looking up at the man with wonder, one hand reaching towards his ear and the other pointing at Techno as he speaks. The speech bubbles above him show a series of appendages - a wing being crossed out, sharp ears, sharp teeth, sharp claws and a tail. Techno, who is bulky, has sharp ears with various gold earrings, tusks, long curly hair, and sharp claws, is pointing to himself and looking down at Wilbur with confusion and discomfort, saying "heh??".

The text says:

Because Wilbur looked closer to Techno than Phil, he was eager for them to be related, for the sense of belonging. But since Techno's obviously not his dad, his next thought was "Brother??".

The habit persisted even after he realized they were different species.

Tommy is a blonde teen with a streak of white and a blue butterfly clip in his hair. He has a red and white baseball t-shirt, a green bandana around his neck, and a blue wool cardigan tied around his middle. The cardigan has simple lighter blue and gold patterns on it. His khaki pants have patches and stitches as visible mending. His clothes are dirty, and he has the same blue stains as on Wilbur on his shirt and bandana. His left foot is prosthetic. He has sharp ears, with a hearing aid in the right one, and his skin has various scarring - from a big, old scar on his left cheek, to faded burn scars on his other cheek, arms and fingers, to many faded cuts on the underside of his arms. Though the left side of his face is limp and expressionless, he looks happy.

The text says:

Partial face paralysis (from his final death)

Prosthetic foot (from walking through the snow barefoot after exile)

Hard of hearing (because of explosions)

Occasional shaky hands (especially when stressed/tired)

Self harm scars (started in exile)

Clothes still dusted blue from Ghostbur (can't be washed out)

Clothes also dirty from mud and grass because he's a gremlin :P

Wears cardigans because after limbo (and losing weight throughout the months) he is more susceptiple to cold + the weight of them is comforting. End ID.]

#tommyinnit #wilbur soot #crime boys #tommyinnit fanart #wilbur soot fanart #dream smp #dream smp fanart #art #headcanons #disability headcanon #self harm mention tw #self harm tw #blood tw #scars tw #death mention tw #technoblade #my own art #my own post #could wilbur have gotten normal good sunglasses rather than tacky red ones? yes #but those were the first ones he could find. plus he didn't wanna ask others for better ones. plus they double as a fashion statement #and he quickly got attached :] #also i don't have most of these disabilities/traits so if i get anything wrong do tell me #btw i know c!tommy has. a lot. but hey mans been through stuff ! #anyways im off to bed ciao <3