#*dabs away*

[tomatoshapedstars]

Leo, recovering from severely traumatic experiences and learning to love himself again while also being the clumsiest fool in the Hamato Clan:

Ray:

[chibifox2002]

Doodled and colored Danny while watching a Game Grumps funny moments compilation

[roseverdict]

Hold up i wanna know more about your Frozen Earth AU homeboy -kg ninjago

👀👀👀

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE @kg-ninjago

OK SO

Basically my thought process went a little something like

"what if cole never got un-ghosted? maybe dotd happens, maybe not, but for whatever reason he's still a spooky boi"

and then i was thinking about the zane needs a hug fic (for those who don't wanna dig it up, basically "post-season 11 ZANGST")

and they got slammed together into one idea that i shall now copypaste from my notes app

〜〜〜〜〜〜

what if cole…stayed a ghost?

day of the departed still happens, but cole doesn't make it through the rift in time. everyone's Super-Bummed, but they've got cole's back and will stop at nothing to try and get him back to normal, or at the very least, get him stable enough to Not Fade Away.

they succeed on that second part, but not so much the first.

so cole's a ghost for the hands of time, the SOG, hunted, the rise of the oni, and the forbidden spinjitzu seasons. even prime empire!

and during those seasons he keeps learning more about what he can do. he gets better at floating, even learning to fly. he gets good enough at vanishing to make others vanish with him. stuff like that.

basically im channeling my love for danny phantom into "everybody knows cole's a ghost and they're still on his side while he learns what he can do"

maybe he even gets good enough at ghosting to form a human disguise a la "i'm going ghost!"

〜〜〜〜〜〜

and then i really got thinking.

hey, zane's a nindroid who can physically deal with big honkin' time gaps

if cole's a ghost, he can also physically deal with big honkin' time gaps

WHAT IF I JUST-

〜〜〜〜〜〜

"You sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes, Cole." Zane chuckled and waved him off. "You go find us some supplies, I'll be doing repairs on the mech the whole time. If either of us should be worried, it should be me!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going, ya tin can!" Cole snorted, heading for the opening of their cavern. "I'll let you know if I find anybody!"

Zane's laughter followed him outside, and with a spring in his step, Cole took to the skies.

So far, he hadn't seen much in the way of other people, but that's what he'd thought in the First Realm. If a barren desert could support a thriving society of hunters and dragons, who was to say a frozen forest couldn't?

Below him, wildlife teemed, predators and prey working together. The sight made him smile. Maybe this realm wasn't quite as hostile as the First Realm…

As he watched, a hawk and a deer flashed with light, and when the light cleared, two people stood in their places, happily chatting about something.

If Cole hadn't had time to get used to flight, he might've fallen from the sky right then and there.

"Holy-! I gotta tell Zane!" Cole gasped, whirling around and shooting back over the treetops at top speed.

The cavern rose in his vision, and he'd barely landed before charging inside. "Zane, you're not gonna believe-!"

The cavern was silent.

"-this…?"

Cole stumbled to a stop, slowly spinning to take in the sight of the Zane-less cave. "Zane, this isn't funny!"

No reply.

"…c'mon, man, cut it out!"

The Scroll was missing, too.

"…Zane…?"

There was a loose cable on the floor beside the computer terminal.

Cole warily approached it, jolting as a video played on the computer screen.

"Greetings, Friend. If you have found this recording, then I am no longer here. My name is Zane. I'm a stranger in this land, trying to find my way home."

Cole froze.

"It's difficult to keep track of the days in this place. It feels like I've been here a long time. But I refuse to give up hope. I am attempting to repair the mech."

"Oh, Zane, tell me you didn't…"

"Unfortunately, the processing unit is damaged. In order to fix it, I must connect myself to the mech and run a system diagnostic. If anything were to interrupt the diagnostic, it could cause my operating system to reboot."

The ground shuddered, deadly-sharp stalagmites jutting out from beneath Cole's feet in all directions, save that of the computer.

"Cole, if you're watching this, know I would never risk such a thing unless I felt I had no other choice. I knew you would try to talk me out of it, so I waited until you left for your search. If all goes well, I'll simply delete this video and face your worried scolding upon your return."

Cole felt a lump rise in his throat.

"But, just in case something goes wrong, this is the last recording of Zane, Master of Ice. Son of Doctor Julien. Student of Master Wu. I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves and I have tried to fulfill this purpose. Goodbye to my friends…and…to Pixal, I love you."

The recording ended there.

Cole didn't react for a moment.

Then the mountainside shook, and Cole collapsed.

〜〜〜〜〜〜

"Hey there, buddy. I assume you've already seen Zane's recording? So did I. I'm from the same realm he is, and I just came back to find him gone and his final message playing. If you're watching this, then I assume I'm not hanging around here anymore.

"My name is Cole, and I refuse to find a way home without Zane. After I record this, I'm going to leave this cavern to search for him. He had run the diagnostic, which, by the way, Zane, if you're watching this, you could've at least waited for me to get back, but someone from this realm interrupted it and kidnapped Zane. I don't know if he'll even remember me, but I have to try.

"If I don't succeed, then I suppose this'll be my last message, too. I'm Cole, Master of Earth. Son of Lou, of the Royal Blacksmiths. Student of Master Wu. I may not be a nindroid, but Zane is my brother, and ninja never quit, not even when faced with impossible odds. I'm gonna get him back.

"…well, uh, see ya on the other side, I guess."

[damienthepious]

👀👀👀

[I’ll keep these ones short because i am GONNA do three, obviously. let’s start with hh more of my botw shenanigans]

Eventually Zelda became bored of waiting for him to say something, and she sighed and stood again. “The trouble is the Calamity,” she said, voice pitched as if she were describing an issue with a civic project, not her inability to access what she saw as her destiny. “Of course, we don’t know exactly when it is supposed to occur, but we are due, aren’t we?” It was a rhetorical question; she did not pause. “Calamity Ganon is coming, we know this, but perhaps the tense of that is at fault. Good-” she pressed a hand to her own chest to demonstrate where she perceived this ‘good’ to be, “cannot rise to reach potential if the evil-” here she merely paused, and kept her eyes affixed on him, “has not yet risen to threaten ruin.”

~

[next uhh more megamind? oh my god i have barely touched the Mama!Scott verse this entire year fuck me running what is wrong with me]

She thinks for a moment that he’s choking, an old fear, but previous incidents with Syx have given her a very clear image of what anaphalaxis looks like. It’s a fast reaction, too, when Wayne tries to say something to her his tongue is already too swollen to make any words work. The epi-pen is out of her purse and in her hands as Wayne stumbles a bit, going to his knees, and she carefully holds him around the shoulder with her other arm as she makes the by-now-familiar motion to inject the medication into his thigh, and the pen-

Bounces away from Wayne’s unbroken skin, the needle bent at a neat forty-five degree angle right where it emerged from the casing, and Diana stares at it in her hand.

~

[and last but not least more penumbra!! heck. heck why do i have this many irons. how am i supposed to hold so many goddamn irons. the fire isn’t even that big]

“You do not know me,” the monster growls, and Rilla tries to bury her hurt in frustration.

“You repeating shit like that isn’t going to make it true, Arum,” she says, a little bit of growl in her voice as well, and she ignores the warning way that Damien squeezes her hand. “We know that you like tea a lot more than coffee, but you’ll drink either if it gets put in front of you before you’re really awake. We know that your frill flares higher when you’re embarrassed than when you’re angry, and if you’re scared it’ll press really flat against your neck. We know that the oldest pair of knives you have is from some old Keep-Lord named Konjak, though you haven’t really told us anything about them except that their journals are a particular pain in the ass to decode. We know that you mutter in your sleep, and we know that you look kinda ill for about a week and a half before you shed but you look completely fucking gorgeous right after-”

~

[send me a 👀 (and a fandom if you want) and I’ll post a snippet of writing that i never got around to finishing this year!]

[headcanons-of-op]

As a sort of continuation of the Buggy and Shank’s kids dating what if their kids were having a kid? Would they have “Who the grandkid loves the most” or “Who’s the better grandpa” fights?

I QUAKE

Once the duo heard the news they were shaking in their boots. (They had to tell everyone at the same time or else whoever heard it first will forever hold it above the other)

Shanks and Buggy would BRAWL at who got to hold the baby first. (It was both their s/o’s, then Benn)

When the tot began to crawl Shanks and Buggy would stand on opposite sides of the room, trying to see who they would crawl through first

Shanks bought a “I love my gramps” onesie in red - Buggy bought the same but in blue. They decided to cut it in half so they could wear it at the same time

The boys definitely share stories and jokes - whichever makes the bab laugh or smile the most wins

Shanks definitely carries the baby around in a chest sling, and strolls through the town shamelessly with it

Buggy tends to keep the baby away from Shanks, literally everyone by using his powers to lift them up super high in the air

Buggy tries to bribe the babbling babe with jewels and treasures. He’ll fill a chest full of valuables - instead the tot would rather grab at his coat and shoe buckle

Shanks low-key tried giving the baby a drop of booze by dipping his finger in it and tapping their lips (Buggy definitely threw hands with him)

The two of them probably have gone out with the kiddo multiple times - nearly every time someone mistakes the two for a couple and their baby

[softproko]

There's life without exy? (it's more likely than you think)

A Riko-centric fanfic for @poze-laceen for the AFTG winter exchange @aftgexchange Sorry for the delay, I got caught up in this prompt and still could not really finish it. I promise I will add a special cute date next week!

Read on AO3 here or continue reading below. Warnings for: canon typical violence, suicide attempt, mental health issues and original character(s).

Prompt: Au where riko isn’t killed but instead gets kicked out of exy by ichirou and goes to live in the countryside suburbs where he meets a house servant housekeeper ichrou hires who he falls in love with and they go on cute dates 

Ichirou had a gun to his head. His own brother, born of the same mother, held a gun and his life in the palm of his hand, and Riko closed his eyes in a mixture of relief and terror.

“No,” Neil -Nathaniel- said, shocking not only Ichirou and the rest of the men in the room, but also Riko.

“No?” the gun still kissed Riko’s temple, and he took a short breath. “You are making demands that I not kill someone who has pulled us all into this mess?”

Neil looked at Riko and nodded, looking into Ichirou’s cold eyes with an equally cold look. “His whole life is exy. Why not take that from him?”

Ichirou laughed and Riko did as well, until Ichirou aimed at Riko’s knee and shot. To Ichirou’s ears, Riko’s laughter and screams sounded the same.

 When Riko came to, having passed out from the pain and then from the sedatives and anesthesia, the doctors told him he would never play a sport again. He was lucky, they said, to even keep his leg. It would take therapy to make sure he would be able to walk, or run perhaps, properly.

Ichirou visited Riko only once during his recovery. He sat across from Riko’s bed and stared at him for a couple of minutes before speaking. Riko was to go to therapy – physical and mental – at least once a week. He was to move to a remote place; not too far for Ichirou not to have any control over him, but not too close for him to be under the watchful eye of media and former fans. He was not to contact any of the Ravens, neither those who still played nor those who had graduated before. He was to have a housekeeper, a nanny, essentially, Riko thought; someone to keep an eye on him and help him adjust to the normal life.

“This is my gift for you,” Ichirou said as he rose from his chair. “Consider it an early Christmas gift. But do not think, for a moment, that as soon as you screw up, I can have you erased in less than a second.”

Riko was not sure which he would have preferred if he had the choice – a life without exy or no life at all.

The house Ichirou had gotten for him was a few hours’ ride from the major airport in the state. The suburbs were quiet, boring almost, but just as Ichirou had wished – no media, no possible fans, still close enough for a great medical centre that the Moriyamas now funded.

I hate it here Riko wanted to say. Instead he thanked the real estate agent for the keys and let them give him a tour of the house; a nice sized kitchen, a dining room, a living room and a bathroom downstairs; two bedrooms and a small office along with a bigger bathroom upstairs. I hate it here and I want to die Riko wanted to say, but instead he smiled and assured the real estate agent that everything looked absolutely perfect.

The first housekeeper that Ichirou assigned him reminded Riko of a middle-aged mother of three who cannot keep a man because of her verbose ways. It took Riko an hour to tell her to fuck off when she asked him what he would like for dinner. It took him another hour to threaten her with a knife, call her a whore, and ten minutes after that she was calling him the devil’s spawn and quitting the job.

The second housekeeper was a girl Riko’s age. If the older woman had treated Riko like a delinquent son, the younger woman treated him like a brother. She teased him when he would not eat, and chastised him when he would lock himself into the bathroom, trying to figure out which way to slit his wrists.

Ichirou fired the woman a week later after she had called ambulance, having found Riko in the bathtub with his wrists looking like a kitten with razors for claws had scratched him. Riko spent another month in the hospital, but this time did not receive any visitors. Had he, he would not have known what to say.

The third housekeeper was already in his house when Riko took the cab home, making food in the kitchen. Unlike the first housekeeper, who had greeted Riko and had waited for a hello from him, and unlike the second housekeeper who always met Riko at the door, this housekeeper did not even stop moving around in the kitchen, the pots and pans clanging around. They did not ask him how he was, they did not ask him what he would like to eat, they did not try to see if Riko needed help.

Riko spent hours in his room, and when he finally got out to venture into the kitchen, he found a bowl of cold soup on the table. It tasted surprisingly well, albeit it was cold. Eating soup at midnight while sitting on a countertop was a novelty he had not experienced enough, and so he took a few minutes to look around the kitchen for real, for the first time.

He was focusing on wondering where the knives were when he heard steps behind him. Instead of being told off for eating this late, or eating cold soup, his housekeeper went to the fridge and poured himself some soup too. The two of them eyed each other as they ate – the housekeeper eyeing Riko’s long-sleeved shirt and the supporting bandage around his knee; Riko eyeing the glasses perched on brown hair and the shirt of some obscure band T-shirt he wore.

“Ainsley,” the man said, slurping some soup. “PUP,” he said, pointing to his T-shirt for a second.

Riko finished his soup and got up without saying a word.

 Ainsley was an oddity, Riko soon decided. He would not bother Riko about anything, would not ask him what he ate and what allergies he had, would not force him to get out of his room every day, and only actually approached Riko when it was time for his weekly therapy sessions. He cooked daily, did laundry once a week and went to the store to buy necessities when they were out. Sometimes they would have takeout, and Riko could eat in his own room when he wanted to have a snack.

Yet there was something… wrong with him as well. Riko did not see him use a computer or a laptop, and his phone rang every few days, to which he always answered after exiting the house. If his second housekeeper had talked about having a boyfriend, Ainsley seemed to be as detached from society and relationships as Riko was.

Then there was the incident.

Ainsley had gone to the store and Riko had scouted the kitchen for knives, had gone through each and every shelf, cabinet and storage space, but he had found none. He had checked Ainsley’s room (the door was locked), had checked the kitchen again (one of the cabinet doors was locked and he had no idea where a key could be) and had even pulled open the freezer door. There were no knives in sight.

“What are you doing?” Ainsley asked when he found Riko sitting on the ground in front of the locked cabinet door.

“Where are the knives?” Riko asked, his back to Ainsley, knocking on the door of the cabinet. “Are they there?”

Ainsley hummed, putting the food onto the counter, then starting to put the groceries away. “Yeah. You’re not allowed to go near them, so just drop it.”

Riko grabbed onto his ankle, glaring up at Ainsley. “I need them. Now.”

“You do not.” Ainsley pulled his foot away from Riko and ignored how Riko cursed and swore at him, and promised to stab him as soon as he got the knives.

“Which is exactly why you’re not getting the knives. Go do something in the living room, watch TV or read or whatever. I need to make food, or we’ll starve.”

Riko threw a book at the TV a minute later but it was alright – they did not watch much TV anyway. He had wanted to scare Ainsley into giving him what he wanted, but Ainsley had behaved in a way that suggested that he was not scared of Riko or whatever he stood for. Somehow that made Riko like him.

 Riko’s birthday just so happened to be the day of his therapy. Instead of getting up like he usually would, he burrowed himself deeper into the blankets and ignored his alarm clock. He also ignored Ainsley who knocked onto his door an hour before his therapy session was due.

“Therapy in an hour,” Ainsley said, not opening the door yet. “I’ll drive you.”

But Riko did not get up. He did not want to shower and to get dressed so that a woman in an ill-fitting pencil skirt could ask him how many times he had thought of killing himself the week earlier. He did not want to drive to the hospital only to be driven back later, and then to lie around doing nothing.

Thirty minutes later, Ainsley opened the door and peeked in. “Oh. Still alive. Get up.”

No. NO! Riko’s mind screamed, but his body turned so that he was looking at Ainsley. Ainsley looked just like he had looked on the first night they had met – an obscure band T-shirt on, and glasses on top of his hair.

“I’m not going,” Riko said when Ainsley did not leave. “I haven’t even showered. I look like a mess. My hair’s greasy.”

It was the most words he had spoken to any of his housekeepers. It did not impress Ainsley, who left for a couple of minutes, only to come back into the room and toss a can at Riko.

“Dry shampoo. We’re leaving in ten.”

 “How have you been, Riko?” the therapist asked him right after he sat down. Riko sighed, shrugging, and tried to tune her out as much as possible.

“Still having bad thoughts?”

He nodded.

“Are you taking your meds?”

Another nod.

“Do you have anyone else to talk to?”

Riko shrugged. Who would he talk to? His brother? He would rather die.

“Did someone drive you here?” She asked, writing down things that Riko had said, or rather things he had not.

He wondered if he could train the muscles in his neck by just nodding.

“Do you think you could talk to them? It’s very hard to be alone in this world, Riko.”

I know this, stupid bitch Riko thought, but gave a small shrug again. Him and Ainsley had nothing to talk about, anyway. What would they talk about? The food Ainsley was going to make? When he was going to do laundry? Who he called and was so secretive about?

 Ainsley waited for Riko in the waiting room, glasses on, reading a book. Riko tried to read the title – Slaughterhouse Five – before Ainsley put the book aside and got up. He did not say anything, and at first, Riko did not. He spoke up once they were in the car.

“It’s my birthday today,” he said quietly as Ainsley turned the engine on. “I’m 23 now.”

Ainsley hummed, taking a right instead of a left. “I don’t have a gift, but I’ll buy you a slice of cake.”

For the first time in over a year, Riko genuinely smiled. “I like red velvet cake.”

 Slowly Riko started talking again. There was not much he wanted to talk to Ainsley about, but he would ask what they would have for dinner, what books Ainsley was reading and why he wore such ugly T-shirts. Ainsley was not very talkative either, giving words and sometimes short sentences as answers, but together they learned how to arrange letters into words and words into sentences without it sounding forced. For a few happy, fleeting, moments, Riko wondered if that was what it felt to have a friend. But then again, Riko had a very hazy idea what ‘friends’ even meant. The Ravens had always been violent and cold and either overly distant or overly physical, so Riko expected Ainsley to be similar – fully withdrawn or draping himself over Riko when they talked; when Ainsley did not touch him unless it was to give Riko some food or to pat his shoulder for when Riko came out of his room and did not mope.

Ainsley mentioned how he wanted to see a movie in the cinema; Riko made the effort to shower and asked Ainsley to go see the movie with him. Riko mentioned how he wanted to walk longer distances now that his knee felt healed; Ainsley drove him to a park after his therapy session and let Riko use him as a crutch for a wonderful hour. Ainsley talked about how one of his favourite authors would be promoting his newest book in the neighbouring town – Riko booked them seats to the reading of the first chapter and spent over an hour listening to a story he did not much care about, only to see Ainsley smile and laugh. Riko said he missed sports – Ainsley took him to see the local high school football team play against someone from their state.

 “Are we friends?” Riko asked one winter morning over a bowl of cereal, wearing his warmest sweater.

“I’m your housekeeper,” Ainsley simply said, shrugging, pulling one of the straps of his tank top up. “It’s a bit different than being friends.”

Riko was upset about the answer for a couple of days until Ainsley demanded they decorated the house together to prepare for Christmas.

“It must be festive,” Ainsley said, another band T-shirt on, trying to wrap the tinsel around the fake Christmas tree, “It’s fucking Christmas!”

The snort that came out of Riko’s mouth was almost a laugh. He was almost content with the tree, the Christmas sweater Ainsley had told him to wear (it was soft and had a snowflake pattern) and the cookies they were to make. In his 23 years, he had not baked anything, but Ainsley promised it would be fine. I’ve made them before, it’ll be fine Ainsley had said as he tossed premade dough into their shopping cart, want to pick what colour icing we’ll use?

Riko had chosen black and red, his two favourite colours. Ainsley had at first laughed, but then had helped Riko to decorate the dozens of gingerbread cookies, shaped like ravens and hearts and snowflakes. Riko wrote a ‘#1’ onto a raven; Ainsley wrote Riko’s name onto a heart shaped cookie. Neither of them spoke of how when Riko saw the cookie, his cheeks turned pink, or how Ainsley gave him a little wink and a smile.

 Riko had not expected to receive any gifts for Christmas. He had not talked to the friends he had had for over a year; his brother would surely not give him anything, and his therapist’s only gift to him had been to tell him he had improved considerably in the time he had been to therapy. He had not expected to give any presents either, yet when him and Ainsley went shopping, and Ainsley spent ten minutes making eyes at a black cashmere sweater without buying it, Riko placed an order online to get the sweater delivered to their door, wrapped in the silliest wrapping paper and the biggest bow the store had. A few more shopping trips, and Riko grew more used to putting in his credit card details and not telling delivery guys to fuck off.

It was not easy to tell who was more surprised to find presents with their name written on them – Ainsley when he found not only one but four gifts under the tree, or Riko when he counted three more presents under the tree than he had put there.

“You got me a present?” both of them said at the same time, and Ainsley smiled widely, wagging a finger at Riko.

“Riko, you know you did not have to get me anything, yes?”

“I wanted to.” Riko said, automatically, picking up a soft rectangular gift. “You didn’t have to get me anything…”

Ainsley shrugged, picking up a nicely wrapped present, shaking it to figure out what it was. “Wanted to. We’re kind of friends, are we not?”

Riko’s blush was hidden by him opening the present and covered by the sound of Ainsley ripping the wrapping paper apart, revealing a black cashmere sweater inside.

“Oh, Riko… Thank you,” Ainsley pulled the sweater on right away, wrapping his arms around his body to feel the soft fabric. “It’s lovely!”

Instead of answering, Riko pulled the gift wrap off the present, trying to figure out why Ainsley had gotten him a pair of mittens, a scarf and a beanie. He did not go out much, and even if he did, they usually took the car.

“So that we can go outside and build a snowman,” Ainsley pointed out, already opening the other presents – books and some fancy cleaning liquid for glasses. “You barely go outside and you’re really missing out on winter. It’d be good for you, too.”

Riko mumbled how he did not like cold and snow anyway, and went towards the kitchen to get himself some gingerbread cookies. Apparently, he was not the only one with such idea, so him and Ainsley tried to step through the doorway at the same moment.

“You go first,” Riko said, gesturing for Ainsley to go.

And then suddenly Ainsley was pressing a quick kiss onto his lips, much warmer than Riko had expected or dared to hope. For what it was worth, Riko kissed back more, more, please, don’t leave me hanging, please until Ainsley pulled away a second later, cheeks flushed, a grin on his face. He pointed at something above them, winking.

“Mistletoe.”

Riko wondered if Ainsley had put it up to have an excuse to kiss him or if Ainsley truly believed mistletoe was an important part of Christmas.

 I want to take you out on a date.

Riko looked at himself in the mirror. He had showered, had shaved, had used deodorant, had put on a clean shirt. A white button up shirt. So what if his face looked sunken in, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look older than he wanted to look. He was a good-looking guy… right?

“I want to take you out on a date.”

Clear, straight to the point. Honest. He could do this.

Ainsley was in the kitchen, making lunch, as he usually would. Riko helped, sometimes, but today he had more important things on his mind than vegetables. He coughed, trying to get Ainsley’s attention.

“Oh,” Ainsley turned, giving Riko a one-over. “You’re looking fancy. Going somewhere? Need me to drive you?”

Riko shook his head, looking at Ainsley. He took a deep breath.

“You. Out.” Fuck.

Ainsley arched a brow, stirring the vegetables on the wok pan. “Excuse me?”

“Go out with me.”

That got him a smile, and Ainsley beckoned for him to take a few steps closer. “Are you asking or telling me?”

“…Asking?” A few steps, still not close enough to reach if either of them held their arm out.

“Ask me nicely,” Ainsley teased, motioning for him to take a couple of more steps, giving Riko the spatula so that he could help with making the food. Riko patted the vegetables, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out what exactly Ainsley wanted. A blowjob? Would that be it? Money? Presents?

Ainsley’s hand on Riko’s was gentle. Riko looked at it, and for the first time noticed the scar tissue over the knuckles.

“Repeat what I’m saying. Ready? Do you want to go out with me?”

Riko nodded, cheeks warm. “Yes.”

Ainsley’s laugh was hearty, but warm, and he squeezed Riko’s hand. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.” He leaned even closer, kissing one of Riko’s red cheeks. “After lunch, you can take me out.”

He hummed as he continued cooking the lunch, and Riko had to excuse himself so that he could rush to the bathroom before he made a mess out of himself by blushing or whimpering of joy.

 While Riko was elated to see that Ainsley looked ever so handsome while dressed in a warm sweater and a beanie, he was surprised that Ainsley still wore glasses, even if they would not need to read small letters.

“Are they not reading glasses?” Riko asked, eyeing his companion, fully taking advantage of getting to hold Ainsley’s hand and being so close to him.

Ainsley shook his head, turning to give Riko a little smile. “No. Need them to see most of the time. Not everyone has a perfect vision.”

Riko could understand that. He knew that if a person had stress, their sight could get blurry, had experienced it a lot back in the Nest. There had never been enough time to rest his body and his mind, so Riko had worn a pair of glasses in his glasses and while studying. Now, it seemed, his eyes had adjusted to their surroundings and he only needed glasses if he stayed up too late, watching TV.

“Besides, I wouldn’t get to see your beautiful face without them.” Ainsley winked, and Riko felt his cheeks turn bright red.

They walked to a small café a few blocks away from Riko’s house, and got hot chocolate that they could drink inside. Ainsley offered they could buy cookies or cake, but Riko just wanted something to drink. They sat by the window, watching the snow fall, Riko’s hand resting on Ainsley’s over the table.

“Something on your mind?” Ainsley asked, lifting his glasses up into his hair so that the warm drink would not fog up the glasses. “The hot chocolate not sweet enough?”

Riko shook his head, curling his fingers around Ainsley’s hand. He put his drink down, and took Ainsley’s hand between his, turning it over to map out all the skin he could put his fingertips on. Again, Riko saw the scars and he traced some of them, frowning. Ainsley did not look like he was into sports – how could he have gotten the scars then.

“Accident,” Ainsley answered before Riko could ask. “Glass pieces were everywhere. Had to get stiches.”

Gently, Riko stroked his thumbs over Ainsley’s knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

Ainsley shrugged it off, “Happened a long time ago. It’s fine.”

When Riko brought Ainsley’s hand to his face and kissed the scars on his knuckles, Ainsley’s cheeks turned a shade darker, and he pushed his glasses in front of his eyes.

Good, Riko thought, finally doing something right.

They finished their drinks and left, holding hands the entire way home.

 A few weeks later, it was Ainsley who asked Riko out. He sat down next to Riko while Riko was watching the news in the living room, and grinned, putting his arms behind his head.

“Hear me out, yes? I was thinking. You like sports, yes?”

Riko nodded, not looking away from the TV.

“There’s a basketball game in the city over. Wanna go?”

Riko slowly shook his head. Basketball was not really his thing.

“Oh. What sports do you like then?”

“Exy.”

Ainsley hummed, sitting a bit up. “Alright. I’ll look into it.”

He gave Riko’s shoulder a little nudge before getting up, going upstairs. Later, Ainsley skipped downstairs again, giving Riko a thumbs-up. “Next weekend there’s a little league game. The drive will be three hours one way, but we could g-“

“Yes.” If he could have exy again, even as a spectator, even if Ichirou killed him for that, the rest of his life would be wonderful.

 Behave.

Ichirou’s text message was prompt and Riko had nearly thrown his phone out of the window. Of course he was going to behave. He still limped, could not walk for a longer period of time without having pains in his knee – what did Ichirou think he was going to do? Storm the court and demand to play?

I will.

 “You look like you’re really enjoying yourself,” Ainsley whispered next to his ear, taking Riko’s hand and entwining their fingers. “But you’re frowning a lot.”

“They’re shit,” Riko mumbled, pointing at the backliner. “He’s missing most of his opportunities,” he pointed at the striker next, “She would miss the goal if she stood three feet from it and the goalkeeper had gone for a break.”

Ainsley laughed, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Cute and smart. How did I ever find you, hm?”

Had Ainsley complimented him years ago when he was the most known exy player in the world, Riko would not have given him a second glance off of court. But now, sitting in the stands and watching a game he would never play again…

Now Ainsley holding his hand and being so close to him made Riko’s heart beat faster than the adrenaline before an exy game ever could.

“Riko… Where are the goals, in like soccer?” Ainsley asked, pointing to where the goals were. Riko sighed, closing his eyes. Perhaps he would manage to teach Ainsley about exy later when they got home.

 When they got home, Riko did not have a chance to educate Ainsley about exy. They stepped into the living room, and Ainsley turned to Riko with a soft, inviting smile. “Would you like to see my room? Nothing too serious, of course. Perhaps… cuddling? More kisses?”

Riko nodded, as if in trance, following Ainsley up the stairs. For that one evening, Riko forgot about everything shitty in his past life, and enjoyed his life. Maybe there was more to life than exy, and perhaps everything would work out fine.

 And it did.

[deus--irae--moved-blog]

// Enough replies for today. Time to rest.

[wonderlandcrows]

im laughing at everything and i have no conscience of timepassing

i think im dyin gbdfkjdfn