What if Akademi wasnt just a Japanese private school? What if it was like an international one that accpted so few people from around the world that they would get one of the best educations.
- Super strict teachers with incredible training in both fighting and teaching
- Clubs to better yourself if college is something you want to pursue
- People from all over with varying accents and skin tones
- I WANT SENPAI TO BE AMERICAN WITH AYANO BEING FULL BLOWN JAPANESE
- BROWN EYED SENPAI
- NEMESIS WITH A THICK FRENCH ACCENT
- AMAI WITH A LESS THICK GERMAN ACCENT
- MEGAMI BEING KOREAN
- SOUTH AFRICAN MUSUME WHO MOVED TO AMERICA
- GIVE ME ALL THE DIVERISTY
When I say Kadara factions lack flair and concept, I’m thinking mostly FNV
I don’t even like Mr. House as a person and I disagree with how he wants to rule NV, but damn, bitch got a style. Lucky 38, bulky securitrons, a face with raised eyebrow on the green screen. They nailed his aesthetics. “The House Always Wins”, damn what a quest name. I was tempted to do his quest just because of it.
ME:A even in its most cohesive and dynamic moments lacks the style and “oomph” effect, that seems so effortless and natural in FNV, the conceptual clearness, emotional depth and originality that feels badass and classy even when it’s fucking weird and ridiculous.
In which more sticky situations and stubbornness ensue.
A/N: I do apologise for any grammar or spelling mistakes in this but I am typing this in the notes on my phone and not on my laptop as I’m currently at school with no data but feeling inspired. Nevertheless here is part 5! I hope you enjoy reading it and much as I enjoyed writing it and the amount of support I’ve been getting is unbelievable, it honestly makes my day and I love talking you so please message me or send things in my ask box. Also let me know if you like the added gifs, they’re not mine but I just figured they could add a little something
- A xoxo
Warnings: language, arguing and the slight mention of panic attacks/anxiety.
Your eyes widened in horrified shock and heat flushed over your entire body. He stood there in the doorway, messy Raven curls spiking out from the brim of his beanie and white vest clinging to his lean torso, exposing his toned, olive arms. You on the other hand were dressed for a party, heels abandoned and the straps digging into your fingers as you clung to them. Your hair was skewed and makeup smudged and you were still rapidly shaking, the remnants of your earlier panic lingering like a stale odour in the air.
He stared down at you, silvery eyes matching your saucer-like expression. You noticed his Adam’s apple rise and fall slowly as he swallowed his thick discomfort. Archie and Val looked between the two of you in confusion, probably anticipating a response but none came.
“So…you two already know each other?” Archie asked dumbly, you couldn’t tell whether it was a statement or a question but neither of you felt as though you could muster the words to form a coherent answer. Jughead snapped out of his (Y/N)-induced trance and shook his head furiously, mouth opening and closing as if words were dying to come out. Your heart sank and you scoffed quietly to yourself.
“Nope, not at all!” You said defiantly, voice louder and more aggressive than you had intended. With that you turned to Archie, shot him a disgustingly false smile of encouragement and led him into his house.
He followed you, eventually overtaking you and leading you all up to his room. You refused to turn around for fear of making eye contact with Jughead but you could tell by the pattern of the footsteps on the creaky stairs that he was lagging behind Valerie, probably with a moody scowl on his face or something of the like. _______________________________________________
“You take third wheeling to a whole new level,” Jughead’s voice whispered through the darkness in regards to your current position - next to Val who was curled into Archies side, sleeping peacefully together in his comfortable but much-too-small bed.
“Hey I’d rather be a third wheel than a salty loner,” you retorted in spite, heavy eyes glued to the ceiling, unable to close due to your intense craving for a cigarette.
“Haha, fuck you!” Was the boys response that surprisingly lacked his usual eloquence.
“I have, wasn’t all that great to be honest especially when you abandoned me afterwards!” Your voice was half-yell and half-whisper and your frustration caused you to rip off the covers and fling yourself out of bed.
Jughead looked you up and down in the dimly lit room, the brilliant primary colours of Archies sweatshirt in which you were clad contrasting with your stormy expression. You brought your middle finger to your lips, sucking on it and taking to the back of your throat all while staring directly at the boy before you, slumped in a chair by the tiny television, milky cheeks flashing bright red as he watched your movements. You brought your finger out of your mouth and presented it to him, smiling innocently as you flipped him off. He rolled his eyes and muttered a rather flustered “so fucking immature” before turning his head away from you and folding his arms with a huff. You retorted with a swift “so fucking hypocritical” before shuffling over to the door and cracking it open. Seeing no light or movement coming from downstairs you grabbed your dress and shoes from the floor, fished in the dress pockets for your packet of cigarettes and your lighter before flinging your dress so that it landed on Jughead’s head and making your way into the hallway.
You tiptoed carefully down the stairs, wincing every other step as they creaked under your bare feet. When you reached the bottom could hear movement from the landing above you and you swore under your breath. You had woken Mr. Andrews from his peaceful slumber after invading his house despite being a stranger to the man, he would surely despise you from now on. Clinging onto the hope that you could make it outside and avoid his detection you darted to the front door. Struggling but finally succeeding to open it with you elbow as one hand was occupied with your packet of habit and the other had the straps of your shoes slung around it, restricting its mobility.
You slipped out onto the front porch, releasing a sigh of relief even as the icy air whipped at your bare legs. You plopped yourself down into the bedraggled wooden chair just outside of the door and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of your lighter and talking a dramatic inhale, tilting your head skywards and closing your eyes. As the cloud of smoke escaped your plump lips, mingled with a contented sigh, you heard footsteps moving rapidly towards the door and then said door open and close. You could sense somebody next to you and you winced, knowing you had been caught and would most likely be sent home by Mr. Andrews in utter disgrace.
Reluctantly you opened one eye, daring to take a peek at the person in who’s hands lay your fate. As soon as you did so your other eye opened too, only for you to roll them and let out a simultaneous exasperated huff. It was not Archies father that stood before you. Oh no, it was Jughead Pendleton Jones III. He had followed you out and you most certainly didn’t want him around you. It wasn’t even because you hated him because as much as you despised yourself for it, you didn’t. In fact, every time you were around him you found yourself having to catch your breath and tear your eyes away from him in fear of having the undeniable urge to pull him close and kiss him until your lips turned blue. Of course you couldn’t, he clearly didn’t want that because he was very apparently ashamed to be seen with you and you would not let somebody hide you away from the world to sustain their own brooding image!
“Stop staring it’s strange,” Jughead broke the silence, the undeniable tension in the air prompting his voice to sound thick and laced with sleep. You scowled at him.
“Shit, sorry it’s just that I’ve never seen such a massive asshole approach me before and I’m rather fascinated,” you hissed sarcastically, mocking a mystified gaze, “Please remember Jones, you followed me out here, I didn’t ask to be in your presence! You might wanna be careful though, what would happen if somebody we knew came out here and saw us - God forbid - talking?”
“I just came out here to make sure you weren’t causing trouble, as per usual!” He scoffed, being condescending was apparently his specialty.
“Well in that case mom, I’m fine so I’d really appreciate it if you left me the fuck alone.”
“No!” He shouted stubbornly, folding his arms and leaning lazily against the porch beams, making it obvious that he had no intention of moving any time soon.
“Why not?” You practically screamed in frustration, clinging yourself up from your seat and stomping you foot on the ground like a spoiled toddler.
“Hmm…let me see…” he feigned a thought with this eyes squinted and fingers rested on his chin “…maybe…because I live here?”
He phrased it more like a question than a statement but knew you couldn’t argue. Even in the misty night you could see his smug expression radiate like a lantern and it tipped you over the edge. Growling in frustration you pulled out your mobile and hastily dialled a number, long nails clacking against the screen of your phone and echoing around you. You could feel Jughead’s eyes on you, still squinted and probably trying to anticipate your next move, one that you were quite sure would irritate him to no end.
“Hey Reggie have you been drinking tonight?” You began turning to look at Jugheas with a sweet smile as his eyes widened in disbelief “…okay radical…could you maybe come and pick me up, I’m at Archies house and I can’t sleep? Okay…of course Reg, I’m always down for a good time…okay see you in five babe.”
“Did you just…Reggie…are you serious (Y/N)?” Jughead demanded, jaw clenched and hands balled into fiats at his sides.
You nodded, eyes wide with faux innocence, taking a final drag of your cigarette.
“Hey, get in Dollface,” Reggie yelled from his seat in his car up to you on the porch, punctuating his statement with an abrupt beep of his horn. You slipped on your heels and giggled and you tottered over to the passenger door.
“(Y/N), please…don’t do this…you’ll get hurt…” Jughead said sternly, lowering his gaze and silently pleading with you to stay. You just scoffed, voice breaking slightly as tears threatened to escape the time of your eyes. You were already hurt, and it was him who did it. You looked between Reggie, glaring smugly at Jughead, tongue resting on his bottom lip and a single eyebrow raised in question, and then at the beanie clad boy that had broken your heart as he stood, stance aggressive but his face a mix of concern and jealousy. Reluctantly you tore your eyes away from his and opened the car door.
“It’s too late for that Jughead, I’m already hurt,” and with that you climbed into the car, leaning over to press a grateful kiss to Reggie’s cheek, Jughead watching your every move wishing he’d hadn’t messed things up, wishing he hadn’t lost you.
It had taken a lot of convincing before their coaches finally relented and gave them permission to drive themselves to games. Neil likes it better this way; the two of them speeding along interstates, almost like when they were still in university and in need of a breather. He knows Andrew also prefers this, if his tendency to randomly pull over and steal kisses are any indication.
Neil looks out the window and watches everything go by. If they take the turnoff here –
“I know what you’re thinking,” Andrew says, not even bothering to take his eyes off of the road to look at Neil. “Don’t.”
He feels a small smile make its way onto his face, but stays turned away so Andrew can’t complain. “Don’t think it or don’t say it? Because that isn’t a ‘no’”, he retorts, their bickering so ingrained into conversation by this point that it’s almost automatic. The car’s getting hot, so he reaches over to turn on the air con. “There’s no point of not going to Palmetto if we’ll be playing in North Carolina,” Neil says.
“Of course there’s a point. I don’t want to have to make nice with whichever sob stories Coach got his hands on this time.”
Both of them notice the slip-up but neither comment on it. Neil’s smile grows as he sneaks his hand over the gear shift and Andrew’s own, just resting it there lightly.
Both of them also know that before the drive back, somehow they’ll end up on a detour to the Foxhole Court.
“This is Livvy.” She swung a door open to reveal a beautifully clean and decorated bedroom. Someone had artfully covered the headboard with whimsical fabric decorated with a pattern of teacups. Bright costume jewellery hung from screens nailed to the wall. Books about computers and programming languages were stacked in careful rows by her bed. ―Lady Midnight
(A/N: hey all. this little thing is the product of exam stress, boredom, and my inevitable relapse into full-on rpdr fanfiction addiction. i’ve never written anything for this fandom before so apologies if it’s not the best. i might continue it if the response is good but if not, it was a lot of fun either way!)
name: [ desktop companion x1 ] canon: persona 5 characters: goro akechi, futaba sakura, akira kurusu (p5 hero), morgana; minorly yusuke kitagawa, sojiro sakura, and some of the other phantom thieves notes/words: this is kind of silly. inspired by this damn thing that won’t stop multiplying. 1242 words.
Being part of the Phantom Thieves means getting along with all of them, not just Akira, and that’s more or less the only reason he’ll let himself believe as he peers over Futaba’s shoulder; she notices him about half a minute later, jerking forward and to the side, slamming onto Leblanc’s floor with a shriek and stammered don’t get so close to me!
Her father and Akira both look up from the counter, and Goro treats them to an apologetic smile before he turns it on Futaba herself. She’s scowling at him, arms around her body, and she waits for him to lean off the back of the booth so she can climb back up into it, knees pressing to her chest as she gets comfortable in front of her laptop.
Goro waits patiently for the tenseness to seep out of her shoulders before he leans against the back of her booth again. “What are you making, Futaba-chan?”
After hearing that Dipper’s classmates don’t believe that he actually has a girlfriend back in Gravity Falls, Pacifica decides to prove her existence to them all.
Dipper had gotten used to bullies and people teasing him as
he grew up, since it had been happening for literally as long as he could
remember. He’d always been the strange,
sweaty, paranoid kid who was a social pariah to the general population. Just because he was used to it, though,
didn’t mean that his twin sister was going to just sit back and allow it to
happen. Not without a fight, that is. No matter how many times Dipper asked her to
leave it alone, Mabel was always ready to charge in and defend his honor if
need be. It just so happened that this
was one of those such events.