#*yay*

[curiosity-flame]

Based on the freak out that happened on the hellfire discord

[imagine-the-phantom-thieves]

“Have you ever seen the life leave somebody’s eyes?” With Akira?

hooooOOOOOOOOOO

Are we back? I think we’re back.

Am I fired? Yeah probably.

Who cares? a lot of folks probably. That’s fine, we have a rolling ball again!

- Mod Maruki

Akira Kurusu

It was something you noticed as the chills of October began to settle within Shibuya. He had been acting… different.

The fun, mischievous air he had seemed to have cleared away, nothing but a tense melancholy following him around wherever he went. Even with the culture festival nearing and every student chattering about it, he was just out of it.

Of course, as his significant other, this worried you.

You had tracked him down one day after school, hitching yourself on his arm, asking if he wanted to walk home together. Normally, it wouldn’t even be a question for him, but he paused, mulling it over before agreeing, his expression noticeably calming. 

Maybe some time with you would’ve been enough to help take his mind off of things.

He managed to maintain his composure, easily chatting with you about various goings on. He found your excitement for the culture festival endearing and had promised you that you’d go together. That certainly put a spring in your step. As fun as the thought was though, you still couldn’t help but feel like he was feigning enthusiasm for your sake.

To a degree, he was. It was like he didn’t want to go with you, he did, he really did, but his mind had been overtaken by the most recent news report in regards to the Phantom Thieves, still fumbling things over in his mind about what happened to produce such drastic change. Unless Okumura’s true single desire was to overwork his employees to a catatonic state while he used them as stepping stones to the top.

While part of him honestly didn’t doubt it, that didn’t seem right either. 

You dropped any pretense of pretending when you joined him in his room.

“Akira, I need you to tell me what’s going on.” Your voice was quiet, but he knew for a fact that this wasn’t a case of something he could brush under the rug. Thinking about how he wanted to word things, he laid back on his bed, patting the spot next to him, signalling for you to join him, and you did, simply sat on the edge. 

The silence passing was deafening. After a sound passed your lips- one he knew was going to just be a repeat of the question, he simply set a hand on your thigh.

“I.. I know, things have been weird, I just… I don’t know what the best way I can explain things to you is. Or, if you’d understand or believe me, for that matter.” A bitter chuckle passed his lips at the last part. After another moment of silence, he breathed out a loud sigh, deciding the best way to go about things would be the most direct. “Have you ever seen the life leave somebody’s eyes?” 

The question, to say the least, caught you off guard. 

“No, I can’t say I have.” 

He only hummed in response, wondering how many specifics he could divulge. Ultimately, he decided ‘minimal’ was his best bet. 

“I’m sorry, that’s probably something I shouldn’t have told you-”

“No, no, it’s… It’s fine. A little strange, maybe?” You paused, fiddling with your thumbs. “You didn’t kill someone, did you?” 

“No! No, I didn’t…” He let out another sigh, holding both arms over his face. “I don’t think I did.” 

You didn’t respond, only racking your brain for any recent deaths you’d seen in the news, with just one result springing to mind. 

“Hey, Aki… you’re not…” You stopped yourself, not bothering to finish the thought. The idea of Akira being a Phantom Thief had seemed plausible to you- if only because a whole week after you started dating, someone who’d been stalking you had completely stopped and turned themselves in to the police.

Which, mind, you had just brushed off as a happy coincidence. 

But, the coincidences around Akira and people who supposedly had changes of heart kept lining up again and again from what you could gather. The CEO of Okumura foods wouldn’t even break that coincidence streak, what with you recently being introduced to Haru Okumura mere weeks before her father’s death. 

Would that ruin your relationship? Not likely. Would it make things rocky for  a bit? Probably, yes. 

Abruptly you stood up, clearing away some hair from your face. 

“I… I think I just need to go think about some stuff for a bit…” You mumbled, walking toward the stairs. 

“H-hey, S/o! It’s not like that!” 

“Aki, everything’s fine, I promise. I just… need some time to figure something out, alright?” 

He hesitated, debating, before simply nodding, letting you descend. 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

The idea that Akira Kurusu was a Phantom Thief, to you, was ridiculous. 

But, that didn’t make it improbable.

[doctortreklock]

A Slip of the Tongue - March 4, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: Man Accidentally Ends Business Call With "I Love You" (x)

Fandom: Good Omens

Worlds: 799

The Arrangement was established in AD 1020. Even before that, Crowley and his angelic counterpart had been on vaguely friendly terms, but hadn't really had any need to contact each other with any regularity.

Once the Arrangement was in place, the pair settled on meeting for drinks every century or so (to keep up with favors owed, and the like). This quickly evolved into meeting for frequently for drinks and gossip, then for dinner and existential discussions, then walks through the park and the sort of mundane details that occupied the majority of any long-term relationship.

As their meeting frequency and purpose evolved, so too did their communication methods, both to arrange physical meetings and to pass on tidbits of gossip about new purchases (Aziraphale), new inventions (Crowley), and new acquaintances (both). They mailed letters back and forth, then sent telegrams, then started exchanging phone calls. Aziraphale hadn't quite worked up to texting or email yet (which suited Crowley fine, as he was mostly bluffing when he said he knew what "emoticons" were), but Crowley had eventually pressed a mobile on him for ease of frequent contact.

There were quirks to their communication. Aziraphale always signed his letters with whatever human pseudonym he was using at the time. Crowley's always held mention of something he would tell or bring the angel the next time he saw him. Aziraphale always abbreviated Crowley's name in written communication with a C ("It saves space, my dear!"). And Crowley...well Crowley had a silent addendum on every conversation since 1793.

It was a perfectly ordinary day in June, about six years after the Business They Didn't Talk About Out Of Fear Their Superiors Might Remember To Punish Them. Aziraphale had called to schedule tea at the Ritz (as if they didn't already have a regular schedule). Crowley had hemmed and hawed about his availability, but ultimately agreed to the suggested date (as they both knew he would). Crowley ended the phone call the same way he had every letter, telegraph, and phone call for the last two centuries. A snarky send-off and an I love you, angel. It was only after he hung up that he realized he'd actually said it out loud this time.

This cued ten minutes of hyperventilating while he stared at his mobile waiting for Aziraphale to realize what he'd said and call back, followed by forty-five minutes of failing to convince himself that Aziraphale hadn't even heard him and two hours of drinking himself into an eleven-hour coma. He checked his messages when he woke up; Aziraphale hadn't called. Crowley got drunk again.

Fourteen hours later, as he miracled away the most blessedly awful hangover known to man, Crowley admitted that Aziraphale wasn't going to call him and ask about it. He mournfully contemplated the empty bottles (which obligingly refilled themselves), but decided that was probably a terrible idea.

Two days later, he and Aziraphale met at the Ritz, the same way they had every week for six years. Aziraphale greeted him warmly and proceeded to talk about a first edition of Children's and Household Tales that was coming up for auction later in the month. Crowley tentatively responded to each point his counterpart brought up, but Aziraphale didn't mention his uncharacteristic hesitance.

The topic of the Grimm brothers lasted through a plate of smoked salmon sandwiches, two trays of scones, and three glasses of champagne apiece while Crowley waited for the other conversational shoe to drop. A third tray of scones with clotted cream later, and the pair gathered themselves to leave.

"Would you care to take a turn through St James'?" asked Aziraphale as he straightened his jacket over a tartan vest.

Crowley, who had had enough of slinking his way over eggshells for the day, thank you very much, demurred with "I don't think so, angel. Not today."

"Ah, well," Aziraphale looked slightly disappointed at that, but not enough for Crowley to change his mind. "Perhaps another day."

"Perhaps so," Crowley echoed. They were outside the Ritz on the pavement by now and Crowley was about to set off in the opposite direction from Aziraphale in order to make his way back to his Mayfair flat. "I'll see you later, angel."

"Of course. I love you, my dear," Aziraphale said in parting as he turned away towards the bookshop.

Crowley missed a step or three, but by the time he had turned back, Aziraphale was a block away, strolling blithely back to his bookshop. Crowley stared after him for a good minute and a half, long enough for Aziraphale to disappear around a corner and then some, before turning towards Mayfair again and slowly walking away.

If Crowley had a distinct bounce to his step the rest of the way home, no one mentioned it.

[garbageisland-0]

Ooooo I'm really excited for the comic! Is it going to be digital or traditional, or a mix of both?

It’s probably gonna be mostly digital. Maybe I’ll do a traditional chapter here and there. 

[garbageisland-0]

I’m so happy Midoriya made friends

[beingkind-is-not-a-passivechoice]

Anyone else drink too much caffeine and get so full of anxiety they can feel their skin vibrate?

No? Just me?

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

my hanging basket is moderately successful