jordantodd
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Recent works
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Weary, Aaron blinks the tiredness from his dark eyes and leans forward in his seat to see the envelope. It’s crisp and white, with his name emblazoned on the front in blue cursive. There’s something else in the corner, red ink smudged by the Virginia rain, that she can’t decipher. The handwriting isn’t one she can recognise, and there’s no special government seal, no other indication of where it could be from. He quickly picks up the letter, scans the front. With a swift glance up, it’s immediately clear to Emily that he’s excusing her with no further words, asking to be allowed the privacy to read whatever it is he’s been sent. Without objection, she scurries out, lingers by the coffee machine and hopes to catch a glimpse of his face through the shuttered blinds.
But she never does, and instead, she takes the train home and tries not to think about the cursive blue ink on the envelope front. See, Aaron is a tender bruise you can’t help but ache to press on.
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night time, my time by jordantodd
Fandoms: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
28 Jul 2021
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The sky is an ocean of colours, pinks and vibrant oranges, as the sun dips closer and closer to the horizon. Where the blue sky and the orange horizon meet, it mellows into a band of pale yellow.
She just wants to reach forward, touch the sky, feel the grooves where the clouds fade into colour like an impressionist oil painting. It’s breathtaking, the sort of view that will never get old despite seeing it millions of times.
“Wow,” Hikaru breathes behind her, and Haruhi hears him step further into the rooftop to get a better look.“It’s really a sight, isn’t it?”
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because this - this isn’t hotch’s job. his job is to make sure they don’t get killed out on the field, to make sure they do their job and that they finish all their paperwork, not give his agents haircuts in his office.
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he doesn’t know how to say thank you in a way that sounds genuine. because this - this isn’t karasuma’s job. his job is to make sure they don’t get killed trying to assassinate kuro-sensei, not give junior high kids haircuts in derelict staffrooms, not treat them with the same love and attention as a son. and there’s now hair all over his suit, and his floor, but he doesn’t seem to care as he claps nagisa on the shoulder.
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penelope is constantly shifting, growing with each passing day as a sapling grows to a tree. with each day he learns more and more what metamorphosis looks like, up close and personal - there are some things a book cannot teach you. and he can’t look away.