#and then they appear and the entire hall goes mad

[katsukiizmoon]

╰┈➤ ꒰🍓🧋┊boba time ┊to love katsuki

To be in love is to go mad, to place your pride in someone else's hands and get to your knees to plead. Being in love with Katsuki is a lot like that. He does not hold your heart, pride, ego, or soul gently.

His hands are much too rough, hardened from years of traumatizing experiences. Thick, rough fingers squeeze the flesh of your palm when scared. Hard. Your thumb comes to rub over his knuckles.

It’s almost as if you can feel it all for him. The pitter patter in his heart. It speeds up when you kiss his temples, slows when you hold him.

Ah, yes, to be in love with Katsuki is to press your forehead to the cold dirt. To worship the grass and beg every pebble beneath your knees for him. It is to place every part of your being on display and say “it is okay” even when it is not.

Loving Katsuki tastes like chili pepper flakes and honey on your tongue. When he kisses you, your feet lift from the damned ground and you float.

So, when he holds out shaky fingers before he goes to a dinner you’re not invited to: you go. You ask no questions because you don’t need an answer. The shake of his left leg and spark of his palm was all you needed to see.

The dinner hall is massive, entire restaurant decorated in honor of heroes. It bustles, people chatting happily and sipping lemon water. Heat rises in his palms, sweat making its way to the surface.

Before he can anxiously wipe it on his trousers, you tighten your grip. Lifting his hand with yours, you place freshly-moisturized lips on the tan skin there. His face burns a coral color and he jerks his head away. With a deep breath, he puts on his best angry face.

Throughout the dinner you take your time soothing Katsuki when no one else knows he needs it. A hand on his knee, his forearm, an extra glass of water you order for “you” despite having your own.

You weren’t invited, yet you were accepted.

Loving Katsuki prepares you for that. To walk in somewhere, you were never invited, with confidence. Shoulders straight and eyes forward. No one questions your presence and if they do it is hushed by someone else.

The hero chart appears on a massive screen and everyone gasps in awe. The numbers are astonishing, each hero clapping as they announce the ranks.

It’s when his name appears in big bold lettering, at number one , that you understand why he was nervous. He’d been aiming for this for years.

Yet it only happened when he stopped aiming for the number one spot and started focusing on you. On happiness, saving people, helping the needy, donating to charities and running a food pantry.

It happened, finally, after he’d spent hours giving his time to kids and training them for free.

Katsuki chokes on his spit, breath hitching. He fights the urge to let his eyes sting with tears and looks at you. Wide eyes soften.

Your eyes light up and you plant another kiss to his knuckles. You mouth something that he can’t hear over the cheers. The world spins around him.

To be in love, especially with Katsuki, is to embarrass yourself. You think this as you bounce up and down, knocking over something in the process.

People are staring and for once in your life you don’t care. Because even if you had your face in the dirt, on your knees, pleading to just have him, you’d be happy. Even if he’d squeezed the life out of the organ that keeps you alive, you’d still find a way to make it beat again to love him.

Katsuki is not a publicly affectionate man. He is angry, up front, and brutal. What is on his mind will be said and he doesn’t give a fuck about who’s in front of him. He’d look god in the face and spit. But he’s timid when it comes to affection. He doesn’t often kiss on you in public, nor does he hold you close like every other couple in the magazines.

But today? His lips meet yours so roughly, passionately, that they may bruise. Mina is squealing in the background and someone hits the ground when she jumps.

His face becomes fuzzy to you, as you’re on cloud nine. The screen shows the kiss across the country.

Because to be in love with Katsuki is to go mad. It is to ignore the reality around you and inhale clouds. To cough them up and take in the sun. To float. To place your fragile existence in his hold and see what he does.

But most importantly, to love Katsuki is to swell with pride. When he goes on stage with sparkling gloss on his lips and says “I told you fuckers I’d do it.” You burst into a million emotions at once.

[lowkeychenle]

모래성 [LMH] (2) (M)

Description: You and Mark have had a friends with benefits relationship for almost a year now. He's in love with you, addicted to you, but you don't feel the same. You're his poison.

Genre: Smut/hints of angst at the end if you squint

Content Warnings: Explicit unprotected sex (Don't Do This LOL), rough Mark, hand necklaces (don't come for me), some angsty angst because I'm a sad bitch, oh also fem receiving oral and other fun, cool stuff

Word Count: 2,307

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

Mark left you on Monday, and now it’s Friday. You didn’t expect to feel his loss like this—as if he truly is a fundamental part of your life. He’s done with you, and it’s something you’ll have to learn to live with.

In reality, you’re not entirely sure what brought all of this on. Or what made that switch in him flip. Although it doesn’t matter anymore, not when he hasn’t even reached out in the slightest. You see him active on socials, talking to Jaemin or Haechan, but he doesn’t mention you or even talk to you.

You briefly contemplate asking one of the boys, but if he’s done with you, you refuse to look like the desperate one. You just wish you knew what the hell was going on. Every time your phone goes off, you rush to grab it, hoping, praying it might be him.

Four days is a hell of a long time for him to go no contact. Mark isn’t usually a casual hook-up guy either, so getting random texts from him throughout the day wasn’t weird. For some reason, your heart sinks every time you realize it’s not him.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, sitting on your couch and watching your favorite TV show, when you get a phone call. Seeing his name on your screen has so many emotions racing through you—excitement, anger, confusion. You want to talk to him about anything he wants, but you also feel as if you deserve an explanation for his outburst.

“Hello,” you answer, shifting to cradle your knees to your chest.

“Can I come over?”

Wow, straight to the point. You scoff. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” He shuffles around with something in the background. “I’m so hard right now, and no matter what I fucking do I can’t get off. I’m convinced I’ll never cum again unless it’s inside you.”

You want to be mad at him. Truly. He hurt your feelings Monday night, but that doesn’t change the way the deep tenor of his voice travels from the phone and into your skin. It sends shivers down your spine and wetness to your core, forcing you to clench your thighs together.

“You can be mad at me all you want, but I know you. You’re already wet for me and I’ve barely said anything. I bet if I touched you, you’d be soaked.”

“Mark—”

“For the love of God, can I come over or not?”

Your brain says no. It screams at you, in fact, but nothing can overpower the ache for him between your legs. Your body is conditioned to spending almost every night with Mark. At least five nights a week. You didn’t necessarily have sex every time, but Mark has always been insatiable. It was often enough.

“If you’re not here in five minutes, I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” he groans. “I’m outside, babe. I’ll be up in a sec. Unlock the door.”

He hangs up, leaving you barely any time to regret your decision before you open it for him. Once he appears down the hall, you walk back into your apartment. You run your fingers through your hair, anxiously awaiting his approach.

You’re in your kitchen by the time you see him. While you aren’t expecting to be happy about his presence, you certainly aren’t expecting the pang of sadness that floods your chest. You avoid his gaze, even looking at him entirely.

Soon enough, the small of your back is pressed into the granite countertop, his body slotted between your legs as if he belongs there. His hand trails up your arm, the tender, gentle touch leaving goosebumps in their wake. The tip of his finger finds your chin, tilting your head up.

His eyes are dark, a beautiful mahogany you find yourself lost in more often than you care to admit. Mussed hair is parted down the middle.

“Look at you.” Mark clicks his tongue. “You’ll never get enough of me, will you?”

“You’re the one who called.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He recognizes that move. A taunt. A request, even.

“I missed you, baby,” he whispers. “I tried so hard to stay away from you.”

His close proximity to you has you refraining from rolling your hips into his. Both of you are so conditioned to each other, movements are mostly habit now.

“Did you miss me?” He leans closer, fresh mint laced in his breath. “You can’t even stand still, I know you want me.” He presses his clothed hardness against you, smirking when you dig your nails into his forearm.

“I let you in, didn’t I?” You let out a shaky breath, hoping he’ll do something soon.

His fingers lace through your hair, gripping the back of your head and yanking it back. You yelp, mentally cursing how it turns into a sigh the moment his lips graze your neck. His teeth nip at your skin.

“Your pulse is racing,” he mumbles, moving up to your earlobe and taking it gently into his mouth.

“Mark.” You reach down and palm him through his sweats. “Get a fucking move on.”

“Where to?” He thrusts into your hand slowly. “Whatever you want.”

Without another word, you pull your shirt over your head. He watches you hungrily, wetting his lips before they part slightly. Following suit, he throws his on the other side of the room, giving you the second he knows you need to admire his body. After, he slides his fingers into the band of your shorts and tugs downward, taking your panties with them.

He grips your hips, hoisting you up on the counter before practically falling to his knees. Looking up at you, he places his hands on your inner thighs, spreading them apart to make room for him.

“Look at you,” he coos. “I was right. Fucking soaked.”

You open your mouth to scold him for taking so damn long, but that’s exactly when his tongue flicks your clit. A moan slips out instead, which has Mark growling against you.

He finds your slit instead, obscene slurping sounds following as you squirm under his ministrations. God, he’s acting like you’re the first meal he’s had in weeks. You grip his hair, tugging gently. He whines into your core. Your stomach flutters and a knot tightens in your stomach as his nose nudges your sensitive bud while his tongue fucks you.

“Close,” you warn him.

He doesn’t stop. He takes your clit into his mouth and pushes two fingers inside you. If you weren’t so caught up in him, you would’ve been embarrassed by the scream leaving your lips. You try to close your legs, but he spreads them further, into an almost uncomfortable position.

He chuckles against you as you fall apart, body spasming as your orgasm floods through you like a tidal wave. You ride his face through it, chest heaving as you hold onto the countertop for dear life.

When he stands, his lips glisten against the dim lighting of your kitchen. You stare at him, breathless, craving to feel him inside you. Leaning forward, you tug at the waistband of his sweats. He kisses you roughly, helping you push them down to the floor. You taste yourself on his tongue as it dances with yours, but it does little to deter you.

“Tell me you need it,” he hisses, guiding your hand to his cock and helping you jerk him off.

“I need it, Mark.” Your voice shakes with need and you scoot closer to the edge of the counter.

As soon as you feel his tip against your entrance, he wastes no time sliding in. You stretch to accommodate him, the feeling making your eyes roll into the back of your head. Needing more, you roll your hips to take him. He slides his hands beneath your ass, squeezing it as he bottoms out.

“Could fuck you all night,” he groans, biting down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet.

When he starts thrusting, it feels like euphoria. His skin slaps harshly against yours, both of your grunts and pleasured sounds mingling together, all of it’s enough to make you forget Monday night ever even happened.

You’re so lost in him, you almost don’t realize when he picks you up. He holds you to his chest and walks to your couch. He sits, leaning back against the cushion. With a swift movement, he unclasps your bra and dips down to take your nipple in his mouth. He’s seated deeper inside you like this. While his tongue flicks, you grind down.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I want you to work for it,” he says, teeth grazing you. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

You lift yourself up, whimpering at the slick sound following. Gripping his shoulders, you set a steady pace for yourself, letting your head fall back as he squeezes your breasts.

“That’s it, baby,” he says through clenched teeth. “You take me so well.”

You call out his name. Gyrate your hips. He knows you need more, but he’s clearly enjoying himself too much.

“Mark, for fuck’s sake,” you whine.

“Tell me what you need,” Mark commands.

You settle on his lap, sticky wetness between both of you, and grab his hands. Keeping your eyes on him, you lead his right down between the two of you, pressing his thumb into your clit, and guide the left up to your throat. He wets his lips as he digs his fingers into the sides of your neck.

You start bouncing on him again, the lack of oxygen heightening your pleasure. He rubs you as you take him, and your legs start to shake the closer you get to the end.

“Fuck, cum for me.” His eyebrows furrow, jaw quivering as he admires you on top of him. “Cum on my cock.”

The bubble inside you threatens to burst, and all it takes is one more circle on your clit. You practically scream, moving wildly on top of him as you throw your head back in ecstasy. Mark’s eyes flutter shut, a loud moan escaping him as he tugs you down to cum deep inside of you.

You fall into his chest, both of you sweaty and sticking to each other. Gulping, you put your hand on his face, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. Neither of you says anything until your breathing calms.

“How the fuck do I live without you?” Mark asks, running his fingers through his hair. “Good fucking God.”

Your heart sinks. “What are you talking about?”

The look he gives you is everything you need to know. You curse under your breath, lifting yourself off of him and rushing over to the kitchen with shaky legs. Blinking back tears, you pull your clothes back on.

Mark follows you in, but you throw his shirt and sweats at him.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Wait a second.” He frowns, pulling his underwear and pants on. “I don’t even know why you’re upset—”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” You tug both hands through your hair and knock a cup off the counter into the sink. “Who do you think you are?”

“What are you even talking about?” Mark recoils, face scrunching in shock.

“You fuck me Monday night, then you say you’re done. Now you’re back here, only telling me this is still over after you fuck me. What the hell is your problem?” You feel like your body is on fire. Even after all this time and all you’ve been through, you want to hide yourself from him.

“You’re not good for me.” He shakes his head. “We’re not good for each other.”

“I think you’re missing the point.” You lean on the counter, immediately moving backward when you remember earlier. “I thought you’d at least have some respect for me, Mark. You’re not supposed to fuck girls before you leave them, you know? Kinda hits the self-esteem.”

“Why?”

“I’m not explaining to you why you should be a decent human being—”

“You know I dream about you?” He steps closer. “I go to sleep at night and all I fucking dream about is you. I’m not doing this to hurt you. I just can’t do it anymore.”

You gulp, trying to find something other than him to stare at. “Go, then.”

“Is that what you really want?” He tugs his shirt over his head. “If you want me to go, I will. But I’m not coming back this time.”

You let out a short laugh. “You need me. Whether or not you ever admit that is on you, but you’ll regret walking out on me a second time.”

He frowns, chewing on his bottom lip. “Sure.”

Without another spoken word, he turns away from you and heads toward your door. Thousands of thoughts are exchanged between the two of you. Your heart wants you to beg him to stay. You want to fall to your knees in front of him and make him stay, but you know better.

He touches the knob, glancing back at you once.

As the door closes behind him, your legs buckle. You hold yourself up with your grip on the counter, but eventually allow yourself to slide to the floor. Once the shock wears off, tears well in your eyes.

After a year, that’s all you’re worth to him? You’ve given yourself to him countless times, and even though you’d consider him a friend, the only thing he considers around you is his dick.

You promise yourself you’ll let him go. That you won’t chase him since he’s so complacent about you anyway.

And honestly, you last for a few days, but you’ll never have enough of him.

You call him before the fucking week is through.

[spotaus]

Had a bunch of Doppletale ideas during my shower so I'm putting then under the Cut!

1) Kale stays underground for a really long time (<- That one's already established. It's like, 6-7 years I believe?) But I think that it's drawn out so long because, not only is K terrified (rightfully so) but Sans is also *extremely* hesitant to tell K about the rest of the underground. Like, he explains if she outright asks him, he wouldn't lie, but even then he cautions her with the most grave explanation when she asks about going past Waterfall for the first time. The further away from Snowdin she ventures, the less he can ensure she's safe. He's honestly terrified for the day she goes to see Asgore. He knows he'll have to Judge her, and that he'll have to accompany her to Asgore, and the last time he escorted someone to the barrier he snapped and killed them just before reaching the king. No matter how many years she's been around and how much better he gets with physical contact, he's so afraid he'll lose himself in that Judgement Hall again.

2) The barrier is fundamentally misunderstood by the monsters of the underground. They believe that to pass the barrier, Monsters must eat Humans and become 'human-like' to escape. This came about after Chara fell and the royal family adopted them. Chara was only a human child, and back then no one was starving. The royal family had recently had Asriel, so when Chara came to them, they thought the best way to teach their son to transform was to have a real human to mimic. Chara was off-limits for meals, and they grew up alongside Asriel as his sibling. Then one day Chara fell ill (ran out of human-food) and Asriel insisted that they go to the surface to get Chara more food. No one saw the whole story. How Chara was coughing blood as they exited the barrier, abd how they were holding Asriel's hand as he slipped through right behind them, disguised as a human child. The monsters had assumed that Asriel ate Chara and escaped the barrier. When Asriel returned to the underground, it was months later, and he only came back because he'd been spotted as a "changeling" by the villagers and had been attacked, separated from Chara and the family he'd been staying with. He "died" inside the barrier, unable to explain how he'd escaped in the first place. (He takes the form of Chara often when he's Flowey if only because it's one of the few faces he remembers.) So, the monsters assumed they had to be perfectly human by consuming more humans to escape. They're wrong. (It actually takes a human putting trust into a monster to give them the chance to cross, and the monster has to view the human as something other than food. As an equal. So, for the barrier to break, the entire underground has to recognize, on some level, that a human is more than food.)

3) Ghost Monsters don't eat Humans, and therefore are the most sane monsters underground by far. All four ghost-monsters were haunting objects that were held onto by humans that had been killed by the monsters, and ended up trapped underground by accident. The only time Ghost Monsters pose a threat is when they try to possess a human. The Ruins Ghost inhabits a dummy (one that's unsettlingly human-shaped that looks like it's been gnawed on by the ruins monsters quite a bit) and it has no intention of harming humans, though it will occasionally appear behind humans or in corners without warning. Napstablook is actually harmless, but wails and cries like a tortured soul. The only thing that calms him is his music. Mad Dummy ends up being the most dangerous Ghost to humans, but much like ruins dummy he inhabits a strange human-anatomy dummy in the waste-dump. He desperately wants a human to possess so he can pass the barrier and escape his wrongful imprisonment. Lastly MTT is obviously still in his robot-body, but as a monster who stays sane while Alphys goes insane, as Sans leaves, as everyone around him starves, he stays adamant that he has to look out for those who aren't able to care for themselves. (In this AU he's never Box shaped.)

3.5) MTT hosts the radio underground. After Alphys damaged him with a trap, he decided that he couldn't bring himself to be on-screen. Instead he uses Alphys' camera system to broadcast a sort of news-station to all the radios in the underground. He's the Star of the underground, and a lot of monsters would claim that MTT was the only reason they didn't lose sanity already. His daily broadcasts always had something new, even after countless years, as his voice was calming and friendly, something monsters didn't have enough of. His very last broadcast is one where he announces it's his last broadcast, because the Barrier is broken. (I also think he'd eventually offer to endorse K to the underground citizens, which has a lot more sway than anyone expects in making Monsters not want to immediately devour K.) (Maybe he's even on the radio when/before K has to speak with Asgore, to take calls from the underground asking opinions on "the Kindness Soul" roaming the underground, and it's a shocking amount of Positivity that they get in response???)

3.6) On the surface, MTT would genuinely become some sort of influencer online. He'd probably love to do Storytimes or Vlogs, and have like a d.i.y. channel. He uses this popularity he gains to slowly but surely change the public opinion on monsters (at least some of them) and help advocate for them to not be ostracized. With advancements in tech, he wouldn't be immediately grouped with the monsters when appearing, so as someone from "outside" either side of the drama and such a positive force he could gather some support. (However, Papyrus and Blooky remain his #1 fans no matter how many new ones he gains.)

And finally, @oodlesndoodles because I promised I'd @ them, and Ood is the designer of Kale/K, the human mentioned for Doppletale's True Pacifist route!

[teejaystumbles]

The Last Unicorn AU anyone?? I saw a post that I can’t find anymore (and I did search my blog and favs but no luck, please let me know and I’ll link it) where Dream was compared to the Lady Amalthea and I couldn't shake it since.

I guess it can be a fairy tale setting or more like an apocalyptic modern AU but essentially I imagine it like this:

Roderick Burgess has captured all the Endless and Dream is the only one left. He hasn’t realized it at first because he and his family are not close, but the dreams of the sleepers have turned disturbed, people can’t die and madness and desire run rampage in the Waking World, destruction on their heels. Just imagine succumbing to delirium and then despair and trying to kill yourself but you can’t. It’s not nice. It’s hell. Dreams are the only refuge and even there, the madness is creeping in.

When Dream realizes that something is Wrong, getting no answers from his gallery, he sets out into the Waking World to find his siblings.

He reluctantly teams up with Johanna Constantine and her friend Rachel. They tell him that Roderick Burgess seems to be blissfully spared by all the terror and madness and is making a fortune off of other’s troubles. All who live at his mansion seem to be safe, but he does not share this safety willingly with many.

When Burgess attempts another ritual to capture the last of the Endless, Johanna, in a desperate attempt at saving Dream, uses a rare spell she found once and saved for a particularly nasty demon. She turns Dream into a human, and it is Not Good.

Dream is beside himself with anguish and terror, he can no longer feel the dreamers, his connection to his realm cut, but he knows it is crumbling more and more the longer he stays in this mortal body, only making everything worse for all humans, now that not even dreams are a safe place.

Johanna is convinced that disguised as a human he can now infiltrate Roderick’s mansion and free his siblings. She is also convinced she can turn him back. (She is in fact not entirely convinced but would sooner die than tell Dream.)

Dream hopes desperately that she is right, because he can already feel his mind slipping, being now influenced by the absence of the Endless like any other human. He goes along with Johanna’s plan because what else can he do, now? At least once they’re in the mansion they won’t have to worry about the side effects any longer.

Roderick Burgess invites them in when he sees Dream, almost as spellbound by his appearance as by the rare book Johanna presents him as a gift to get them inside. They take up lodgings at Fawny Rig and while Johanna shares her knowledge of the supernatural with old Burgess to keep him occupied and distract him from the otherworldlyness her friend is exuding despite being human, Dream searches the halls for any hint of his siblings.

Also living at Fawny Rig is one Robert “please call me Hob” Gadling, who has bought his way into Burgess’ favor with rare antiques and special services (he’s a bit of a mobster and mercenary). He is supposed to keep an eye on newcomers and when he spots pale, blue-eyed Dream, he has every intention of doing just that. Very thoroughly. From preferably as close as possible.

[yourcrazyboyokris]

There should be more ads like this. *The camera pans to a book on a clean white table with a happy woman in a striped red and purple shirt reading it, the sun setting in the background* Soft masculine voice: "Don't have a bookmark?" *small amounts of rubble fall from the ceiling and the woman looks up in terror* Soft masculine voice: "Then don’t be afraid to call." *An entire chunk of the ceiling falls off and the woman runs out the door in terror as the wall collapses, revealing a demolition machine* Soft masculine voice, becoming harder to hear as more demolition machines appear: "Because at Marc’s Demolitionists, we will always help you find your bookmark." *Camera remains in book room and the woman is visible through the door, rushing down the hall and screaming as a wrecking ball destroys part of the hallway and wall in front of the book, yet the book remains intact* Soft masculine voice, barely audible anymore: "We’re always here to help… *demolition machine drills loudly* …just for… *wrecking ball crashing sound* ...and 99 cents." *the entire house goes up in flames and three wrecking balls completely destroy the house, with you being able to see the woman sobbing outside of the madness with her knees on the grass through a crack in the rubble. A burnt bookmark slowly hovers down and lands perfectly between the book’s pages, before the Marc’s Demolitionists logo appears on a blue background* Soft masculine voice, which has stayed the same tone and calmness through the entire ad: "Marc’s Demolitionists." *funky toon plays*

[stackofstories]

shotgun rider | chapter 2

Like the rest of the Great Hall, Blaise watched as Harry made his way to the stool where the sorting hat sat.

McGonagall, a tall severe severe-looking witch, dropped the hat onto Harry’s head. The hall went quiet. The type of quiet where even breathing felt too loud.

Blaise crossed his fingers. Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin. Anywhere but Slyther--

“GRYFFINDOR!” the hat shouted to the entire hall.

Blaise twitched as the whole of Gryffindor let out a single thunderous roar of approval. Harry’s sorting brought out the loudest cheer by far. Thank Merlin—Blaise’s galloping heart calmed. Harry was a Gryffindor.

Look, Harry’s half Weasley. Blaise watched the string of redheads orbit Harry. The youngest Weasley squeezed next to Harry in minutes completing the set. Harry would forget about him by night’s end.

And then, it was his turn. Blaise felt the barest touch of the worn felt on his braids before the old thing was screeching Slytherin. As long as it wasn’t Gryffindor, Blaise was pleased.

When he joined the Slytherin table, the Headmaster got to his feet.

“Welcome,” Albus Dumbledore said. “Welcome to the new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment. Tweak!”

“Thank you!”

Dumbledore sat down. The Slytherins politely clapped.

“Dumbledore knows gobbledygook?” Blaise asked. It was a notoriously difficult language.

“Well. He is Dumbledore,” an older year with a milk complexion as if that explained everything. “I heard he also knows Mermish.”

That didn’t surprise Blaise. He could very well imagine his floral robe-wearing Headmaster caterwauling and screeching with the best of them.

“Mad,” Blaise said.

The older year gave him a rueful curved smile.

All thoughts of their eccentric Headmaster fled with the appearance of food. English food appeared on the gleaming serving plates: roast beef, lamb chops, pork chops, roast potatoes, chips, etc. There was enough for seconds, thirds, and fourths if one was feeling particularly gluttonous.

Blaise thought of arancini.

When Mamma was around she cooked his favorites. He thought of last night and himself seated at her right side. Her dark skin glowed like the best of Tahitian pearls and her golden hoop earrings caught the fireplace light. He had gorged himself on her arancini hoping to keep a part of her with him when he went away.

Blaise shook his head. He piled his plate with fried fish and chips. With a dash of vinegar, it wasn’t the worst thing he had ever tasted.

Blaise nibbled on a chip. He looked over at the Gryffindor table and saw the curly-haired ghost from earlier with his head pulled to the side hanging on by a sliver of ghostly skin and marrow. Nearly Headless Nick, Blaise abruptly remembered. How had Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington become nearly headless again?

His stare moved from jolly old Nicholas to Harry beside him. His moss-green eyes were curved and he was smiling and talking and laughing.

Blaise swallowed. He turned and focused on Malfoy prattling away doing his best to ignore their House lar—the horrific Bloody Baron—haunting his shoulder.

“— yes. Cousin Livia goes to Ilvermorny. It’s the premier school in America but Hogwarts is the best wizarding school in the world,” Malfoy said.

Blaise held back a snort. That was categorically untrue. The best schools were in Alexandria and Shanghai. But Malfoy was no more likely to be admitted than Blaise had of being a dementor. Blaise ate another chip.

“There was never a question about my attendance even if Father is worried about the rise of riffraff. Father will be talking to the education board, of course.”

Of course. With the last two wars, the crown jewel of wixen British society – the Blacks – dwindled into a nearly defunct House. In their place stepped in the Malfoys and so had many lesser House like Nott, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Flint, Crabbe, and Goyle. Their names became synonymous with power and prestige in place of the old like Rosier, Avery, Yaxley, Lestrange, and Gaunt. Malfoy and his ilk now sat at the head of the table, but from Blaise’s perspective, it was more of the same, just another wheel turn.

The connections Blaise was meant to curry if he stayed in British society.

Blaise stole one more glance at Harry. Curious green met his.

Blaise broke the connection.

Harry was going to be trouble. He minded his own business.

_

Blaise might have considered Harry’s thoughts on the matter.

_

Harry wobbled on the seat next to him placing his bag under the table.

“Do you want to have tea with Hagrid and me this afternoon? Ron is coming along.” Harry ducked down and fiddled with the brass scale.

Blaise stared at Harry incredulously until the boy wonder looked up at him. Doubt in his eyes.

“You do have Friday afternoons off, right?”

Blaise made a noise in the back of his throat. Harry wasn’t this dense. Couldn’t be.

“Why are you sitting over here?” he asked.

“Er, Snape told us to partner up for the pimple–”

“Boil.”

“— potion, and.” Harry faltered, licking his lips. “And well, it’s been a lot. How have you been?”

How have I been? Blaise rolled the question around in his head. Competing answers crowded his tongue. He shook his head, glancing over his shoulder to see his head of house, Severus Snape, make a sharp turn toward their direction.

Blaise wanted none of Snape’s ire though he was sure because he was there Snape would be a little less intense. But Snape also disliked Harry from the jump.

“It has been a lot.” Blaise agreed. “Can you weigh the nettles? I’ll bring the cauldron to a simmer.”

“It’s wicked though, right? I never want to go back to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Ron’s older brother, George or Fred, I don’t know—one of the twins told me that Slytherins were stuck in the dungeons. Do you know about the moving stairs and the portraits that talk? It’s almost like telly. Have you watched telly? I tried explaining that to Ron and he looked at me like I belonged in an institution. And we have to say a password to get into our common room, do you guys also have a password?”

Blaise blinked at his simmering pot. Once more reminded of the train ride and what exactly Harry was trying to tell him. Harry talked a lot but not the self-assured chatter of Malfoy. It felt hurried and unpracticed like Harry was trying to tell him everything all at once as if he were going to die or go away for a long time.

“We do have a password and you remember we share classes. I have been on the stairs,” Blaise said. He held out his hand for the dried nettles then set Harry on crushing the snake fangs– “No, crush the fangs into a fine powder not just pieces,”– while he stewed the horned slug.

Snape arrived at their table. His dark eyes swept over Harry and their potion. Snape’s sallow skin held the barest hint of red to match his sneer. He offered no biting criticisms but no praises.

It was not because Snape was bereft of words. A table over, Snape’s weighty whisper transformed into stirring praise for Malfoy’s technique for stewing slugs. Blaise contained his eye roll.

“Of course, Snape would like that prat,” Harry muttered darkly. “They go together like peanut butter and jelly.”

Blaise bit back a laugh. He continued stirring his potion, glancing over at the other table to check their progress. He froze. “Stop Longbottom.” He hissed at Harry. “The porcupine needles.”

“Neville! No!” Harry raised his voice. “Don’t put the needles into the potion.”

“B-but it says too,” Longbottom said.

Snape sauntered over. A dark cloud brewed on his face. “Idiot boy!” he spat. “The needles go in after taking the cauldron off the fire. Your incompetence would have sent you to the hospital wing though I suppose some might need a more hands-on lesson.”

Tears filled Longbottom’s cow eyes.

Snape banished the potion, growling. “Since I can’t trust you with a cauldron maybe you’ll be a better hand at writing. An essay on why a close reading of potion instructions is fundamental will be due next class.”

Snape whipped around to Harry. “You – Potter – thought you could play hero in the classroom and do Longbottom’s work for him? Anoth--”

“Professor.” Blaise stood as tall as possible. His face smoothed down into nothing, revealing nothing despite the chaotic confusion bubbling inside of him. He knew better. He was raised better but it was out in the world and there was no putting the genie back in the lamp. “I advised Harry to help Longbottom and his partner.”

Snape looked at him with his black eyes. They reminded Blaise of lake waters and their murky depths.

“In the future, concern yourself with only your potion.”

“Sir.” Blaise bowed his head.

Snape turned to the rest of the class, snapping. “You have an hour left on your potions. Any table with less than an Acceptable Boil Brew will be joining Longbottom in writing an essay.”

Harry gleamed like goblin gold when Snape went to harass another student. “You stuck up for me,” Harry whispered with a toothy smile.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter,” Blaise said tightly.

The chaotic confusion inside of him shifted into jitters in the bottom of his stomach like hot stones.

“No one has defended me before.”

Blaise closed his eyes and inhaled. Harry needed to stop telling him bits and pieces.

“I’m not writing that essay.” Blaise shook his head. “Let’s focus.”

An hour later, they were finally out of the Potions classroom. Harry was hot on his heels like a duckling. That was another thing. Harry had little concept of personal space. He was always skirting too close.

The youngest Weasley caught up to them. His book bag was worn and full of stitched patches. He and Weasley exchanged appraising looks.

“I can’t believe you left me with Hermione,” Weasley faced Harry. “She’s such a know-it-all.”

“Got you out of writing though,” Harry said. “Cheer up.”

Weasley sighed. “Is he going to Hagrid’s with us?”

He was obviously him. Blaise adjusted his satchel strap across his chest. “I hate to decline. My hair. It’s Wash Day.”

Before they could answer, or in Harry’s case protest, Blaise spun on his heel and walked away. His mind raced. Harry wasn’t going to disappear as easily as he had thought.

[ofsavior]

kazutora's weird rampage. maybe he has rabies. || @deathfavor

It isn't hard to find Chifuyu, not when Kazutora knows to smile and ask nicely and students will point him in the right direction. So up the stairs and into the classroom he goes till he finds who he’s looking for. Not that Chifuyu seems aware, staring out the window. Kazutora pauses and then leans over to tap Chifuyu’s shoulder. “  Earlier. It wasn’t personal.  “  Kazutora offers, before realizing further context might be needed. (For that, and not for why and how he got into the school.) “ When I was upset. Wasn’t mad at you, before you start thinking it was. “ This time. Still, he thinks Baji would be pleased at his efforts to come out and tell Chifuyu such. He isn’t sorry so he doesn’t apologize. And he does think Chifuyu’s got his own screws loose. But at least he made an effort to show their weird truce was still intact as far as Kazutora was concerned.

Students start to disperse throughout the halls, marking the end of the school day. Elbow resting upon the windowsill, Chifuyu props his hand onto his palm and stares outside. He looks disappointed at best. His chest aches with a nagging feeling of irritation. Something he's been bottling away drip after drip, but it finally threatens to spill over. The source is a single text. Nothing unusual and nothing of note. It reads, Don't wait up. Goin to see Tora. That's just like, Baji, isn't it? To go and fix someone else's mess, putting aside his own needs or wants. Doing everything on his own and shouldering the burdens of each and everyone he calls a friend. That selflessness is one of the reasons Chifuyu admires him, but in the same vein... it's one of Baji's greatest flaws.

Kazutora should know that, right? Kazutora shouldn't be taking advantage of it. So why is he? That simple text is enough to stir those feelings. Baji was going to see Kazutora. Again. After whatever the hell exchange Kazutora and Chifuyu had shared earlier. Chifuyu doesn't mind that it's Kazutora, and he doesn't mind that Baji's bailed on their pre-exam study time. But he does mind someone taking advantage of another's kind nature. Time and time again. Isn't the whole point of a truce that he can help out, too? What kind of shitty truce means that Kazutora still only leans on Baji all the time.

The devil himself appears in the form of a dainty tap on Chifuyu's shoulder as if to test Chifuyu. Blinking away his surprise, green eyes fix to gold and stare blankly. Kazutora expects Chifuyu to forgive him without apology because it's not personal? Chifuyu fixes his gaze on Kazutora with a scowl. Only then does he recognize the room's entirely empty except for the two of them. Where's Baji? The scowl deepens to a glare, and the figurative tick mark pulses across his brow. Nothing personal, he says. Wasn't mad, he claims. Kicking aside his chair, Chifuyu stands and lowers his head. “ Oi, Kazutora... ”

Promptly, his head rises in unison with the fists forming at his side. Instantaneously he lunges forward and swings his right fist to Kazutora's jaw. “ I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS PERSONAL OR NOT! ” A step forward and both hands grip at Kazutora's chest to grab him by the shirt. “ QUIT ACTING LIKE NO ONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT YOU EXCEPT BAJI-SAN! ” He exclaims, bracing himself for whatever consequences are certain to follow.“ You owe Baji-san an apology for putting all of this on him and cleaning up after you all the time! ”

[itsuki-minamy]

"SIDE GOLD"

CHAPTER 2: UNNO YUTAKA (PART 2/2)

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

There is a normal private brothel and gambling house at the back of the so-called Yokocho (the sign is "Kagirohi Business Association", and the name of the remaining place is "Kagirohi Yokocho"), which opens the entrance of the townhouse in the main street. Relatively speaking with the police... Kagirohi-gumi wasn't too enthusiastic about those things that were easily noticed by the superiors and the occupying forces, but still existed to a lesser degree than necessary.

When the early winter sun goes down and the market is packed with customers coming home from work, the little joint opens up in secret. For some reason, there was a thick plaque with just the name of the store, "Yakumo", written in large letters on the dilapidated shack that stood out from the others. Known only to those in the know, it is the fortress of Kagirohi-gumi.

Now he was receiving an early visit from a rare visitor.

A building with no play in its structure turns into a covered fire pit as soon as you walk through the entrance. Normally, the amusement park, where the bloody-eyed patrons would be excited, shouting "one way, half way" centered on that white cloth, was silently enveloped by a strange visitor. However, the place was not cold.

Rather, it was boiling with a heat that almost burned the skin.

The seats were unusually arranged with the cloth tray in the middle.

A rude visitor sat at the entrance. All of them were a group of people wearing soft hats, suits, and coats, and each of them was wrapped in furoshiki cloth. There was a gloomy composure without madness or ferocity, which was clearly different from the brats running in and out of the group.

In the center of the group, an American sat cross-legged.

He was a dubious man with round eyes and a deep wrinkled smile, neither middle-aged nor young.

It was said by a man from Kagirohi-gumi, who was bending his slender torso completely.

"Thomas Colt... you said that, brother of the Occupation Army, Ani-san."

Rather, that was a strong-looking young man who had a deep voice, a thick torso, thick arms, and thick legs when he sat upright, and whoever saw him could not misunderstand him. The perforated eyes that filled the entire body, the presence of an enormous weight, suppressed the outburst of the young people behind.

Colt nodded with a smile that hid his emotions.

"Yes, Okuma Tamataro-san."

His fluent Japanese gave off a sense of suspicion rather than familiarity.

"According to his family record, he is 25 years old. The only son of the Kanto Okuma group that hired him as a janitor. Through repeated fights, he became a bad friend. After the death of his father, Sayataro, he handed over control of the group to him, and together they became Kagirohi-gumi. Commonly known as "Onikuma"."

Okuma's thick eyebrows twitched. As he felt the excitement of the youths, he calmly returned it.

"You seem to know a lot about it. And what are you looking for?"

"Yes, of course, I'd like to ask him to see me. It's a loss for you too."

"Go home."

As soon as he gave up, Okuma stepped on the tray and slammed his fist into his opponent's face. With a one knee stance, a thick fist thrown as naturally as walking.

"......!"

But it didn't make it to Colt.

A translucent barrier that appeared in front of him blocked the blow.

Colt added a small amount of teasing and deepened his smile.

"Wow. Just like information, you're fast."

"......"

Okuma silently ignited his fist as he continued to press against the barrier.

In the center of the dimly lit playing hall, an unlikely light lit both fields red. A group of coats reached for a furoshiki wrap, while the Kagirohi-gumi youths raised a dagger or a long wakizashi dosu.

They almost exceeded their limits in a matter of seconds.

"Enough, Okuma."

The woman who was poking her chin out at the back counter stopped him with a loose voice.

"What a great psychic. Isn't that unusual for the Occupation Army?"

Saying so, the woman stared at Colt's power through his round black glasses.

As for Colt, his wrinkled smile didn't break.

"I wouldn't say it's rare... as long as you live in this place... It's common, isn't it, Todokoro Suwako-san?"

"I see; you know me well."

Suwako stood up, tall and slender, approached. Her peculiar outfit, with ill-fitting hair and a worn kosode and long haori, swayed with every step.

Placing Okuma's fiery fist in front of him, Colt continued without hesitation.

"I know many other things. According to the family record, she is 23 years old. Her family died in an air raid. The owner of the restaurant where she first worked in this town. A lover who always accompanies him and who handles the administrative affairs of Kagirohi-gumi, commonly known as "Hanakumo"."

"Are you saying that on purpose to make me angry?"

Despite the atmosphere, the youthful beauty of hers smiled like a blooming flower.

It wasn't glee or affection; it was an expression of anger that burned slowly.

Before he even noticed it, many red threads that burned the air spread out from the tip of her hair.

Okuma suddenly realized and raised his fist.

"Bastards, they're coming!"

As he yelled at the youths, he himself collapsed to the ground.

A countless number of red threads were dancing wildly at high speed. Several youths who failed to escape were shot down, and even the "Yakumo" arcade was smashed by a ferocious blow from inside. A thick, tough nameplate rose into the sky.

Though a cry of surprise erupted from the depths of the market.

"What?! "Yakumo" exploded?!"

"Is she in and out again?"

"Who is it this time, boss Unno?"

"Okay, big sister! Find out if there's a fire!"

He didn't see enough of a stir to cause a panic. It was a common occurrence there.

First-time visitors were amazed. If the barrier hadn't covered all of them, it would have been more than amazing. Feeling cold sweat on his cheeks, Colt kept smiling.

"So this violence is as reported."

Saying that, he sharply raised his right hand.

In response, the group of coats unwrapped the cloth that wrapped them. From within, automatic rifles and heavy weapons three times as severe as Okuma imagined appeared. They aimed their tubes at "Yakumo", which had turned into rubble.

Before long, Okuma was the first to pull his thick body out of the rubble. In both arms was a young man who had been run over and passed out. As he took a deep breath, he asked next to him with a serious face.

"Don't do that, Suwako. What part of the earlier tease annoyed you?"

"They call me lover. If you can do that, no one will have a hard time..."

Standing calmly alone on the spot, Suwako muttered with her mouth pouting.

Colt ignored that.

(It was a little different than planned, but I don't mind.)

His target was a single man who should have dated if he had a dispute with his henchmen.

"Geeh, geeh!"

Somewhere in the rubble, a young man coughed.

"Damn, people are sleeping comfortably, why all the fuss?"

Colt was attentive and focused on the person raising the voice.

Someone kicked the galvanized board away and it righted itself. He brushed the dust off the jacket that appeared to be a leaked article.

"Ah! Did you do it again?!"

His physique was unexpectedly small, but his fearless gaze as he looked around him had an extraordinary attraction. A majestic atmosphere that makes you feel that things are different filled his whole body and overwhelmed the viewer.

Not intimidated by him, Suwako blurted out her own words as she did so.

"Shut up, bastard! More than that, he's a customer."

"A guest?"

He searched for a foreign object among the rubble.

Colt, who should have met the attack with determination and strength, felt a slight sensation of dread as his eyes turned to him. He came to mind, unpleasantly, the metaphor of a rat versus a bird of prey.

As expected, his eyes went to the group that was targeting them.

"Okay, let's do it."

As soon as he learned that the customer was his enemy, Unno Yutaka made a quick decision and willingly agreed.

In preparation, he wrapped the white silk scarf that he dug out of the rubble around his neck.

Near the collapsed "Yakumo", there was a vacant lot unofficially managed by Kagirohi-gumi. It was a forced evacuation area established before the war to prevent the spread of air raids.

They used it as a battlefield when they went in and out of other places. Even today, Okuma and Suwako were on Unno's left and right, and behind them, there were a dozen youths, and they were intimidating the opponent with his usual disposition.

Today's opponent did not respond by threatening to face each other like a mirror match. In the center of the group carrying sword-swallowing firearms, Colt with a doubtful smile began a sleepy story.

Under the night, voices came and went through the unlit streetlights.

"Once again, I would like to express my greetings to you, Third King, Unno Yutaka."

"What are you saying?"

Even if he was fluent in Japanese, he couldn't understand unfamiliar words. With a doubtful look on his face, Unno's childish face looked even more childish.

Colt obediently added an explanation.

"Third, the one who has the power of the King... In other words, it is a word that legally defines "King". Our country does not have a royal family, so please forgive me for using such a formal phrase."

It was a long talk based on the speculation that it would not be a bad idea to appeal that it was a party that would be forced to cooperate from now on, and that it was different from the group that started a conflict.

However, Unno's understanding was at a stage well before such speculation.

"Why, am I the third?"

"It's just the order in which the existence was confirmed, don't worry about it."

Colt continued patiently, though he was dismayed at his childishness.

"Actually, the Occupation Forces have been aware of your movements since last year. The Strain used in the conflicts in the neighborhood... in other words, like those with the "red power" who defeated the geisha."

The explanation was mixed with subtle falsehoods.

The detection was true, but the information was held within the Nanakamado intelligence agency, and was not reported to its superior organization, Headquarters. Research into essential "red power" was also intentionally neglected.

That's because they have ambitions to extend their power as an armed group. More than anything else, they hated the fact that by carelessly mentioning the "King", the situation would progress and the job of secretly collecting Strains that could be used in battle would be hampered.

"Tokijikuin", who cannot be hated, even if they hate them, launched the "Fourth Legislative Affairs Office of the Ministry of Justice" and began to directly interfere, such as arresting its officials. Situation scenes that had no choice but to move to keep pressing.

Of course, they also had no intention of rushing recklessly.

The strongest ability in American Strain, "Stone Wall" Thomas Colt (a pseudonym), which generates extremely strong barriers, and those who specialize in combat, are obtained through a unique route that bypasses the Headquarters. They gave them the weapons they needed and launched them into that operation. They calculated that they could compete well with the battle record of the "Demon" in Chofu.

On the other hand, Kagirohi-gumi had no intentions.

The fight that was sold was purchased at the asking price.

That was the only rule that was not even necessary to establish.

Even now, Unno was empty-minded... If he were to express the actual situation, he would get bored listening to the explanation.

He doesn't stop once a fight starts, but he's quiet until it starts. The reason he doesn't step in and cut the conversation short is because of the bully's way of thinking that it's easier for the other person to just say what he wants.

Then he suddenly realized it.

"Hmm? That's tall... I've seen it somewhere."

A group of people in coats, one of whom had a hat and collar covering his face, shrugged at him.

Okuma also stared at the slightly looming face, and an idea occurred to him.

"A geisha employed by the Agata group, "Ebisu no Kunizo"."

"Ah, you beat me to death... Yes, you switched sides to the Occupation Army."

"......"

He returned the casual greeting with silence, but Unno took no offense.

It was quite common for the world to reject people for awakening to their power, for them to have no choice but to use that power as a food source, or change the river bank depending on whether they won or lost.

Therefore, Unno can only think that the current boss is strict.

"You came to hit me again, it's the guts that I admire."

"......"

The silence returned again.

Before he knew it, Colt had stopped explaining and had his mouth shut.

Thinking that he really couldn't apologize, Unno apologized.

"Oops, sorry. Shall we keep talking?"

"Yes, good."

Colt responded with a sour face, but he actually got a good impression of that boy's nonchalance from the start. Realizing that, he quickly brushed it off and said, "That's the "King's" magic power."

"Let's get down to business."

He dared to speak matter-of-factly with a calm voice, but secretly wishing for success, he began.

"Would you like to join forces with us? You will use the power of the "King" to create a large number of geisha, and we will show you exactly where to use them. If we cooperate, we should be able to obtain even this country."

Although it was a picture from the future that was in mint condition and neglected, Nanakamado took it seriously. It can be said that they were left with only a bet of one or eight.

"Make a geisha?"

Unable to understand the use of the words, Unno tilted his head.

Instead, Suwako guessed and told him in an easy to understand way.

"In short, it's our "Sakazuki Fire Cup"."

"Oh I see."

Unno clapped.

In the Kagirohi-gumi, the introductory sake cup is filled with the fire of the "Red King". Only those who were prepared to drink from that much hotter fire could join the family and be empowered along the way. By the way, Unno always drinks the same as the boss.

"Very well, then, do you want to scatter our "cups of fire"?"

"That's how it is."

Colt involuntarily leaned forward in response to Unno's conviction.

"Then it's impossible."

He received a firm refusal. The fact that he still held back from the answer that he should have expected more than half the time was due to his liking and regret.

"Why?!"

Unno looked left, right, and behind him.

"These weird trees are, well, a bunch of troublesome people."

With a troubled and embarrassed face, he showed pride.

"I chose them; they are my family. You can't make Strains for horse bones here."

"Well, that's how it is."

"Why do you say such embarrassing things?"

Okuma responded with a smile, while Suwako relaxed and cursed. The youths in the back also showed their affection for the boss in any way they could.

Just like that family, Colt concluded as he felt obvious jealousy.

"As I thought, it was impossible to persuade you... In that case, I would like you to be prepared for a certain amount of injury."

"It's still rude of you to say it, Colt-san. It's just a matter of doing it or not, right?"

Until the break, Unno urged war to break out.

Without any specifications, Colt raised his right hand.

"Yes, he's out of control."

The group of people in coats raised their mouthpieces at the same time.

Unno, who was standing at the reception, had a twinkle in his eyes,

"Okay, let's do it!"

Okuma, Suwako and the youth were full of fighting spirit.

There was no time for a tense confrontation.

"Come on!"

Immediately, Unno clenched his fist and erupted with bright red power.

Colt reflexively created a barrier and burst open from the front.

"Eh?!"

Before he knew it, Unno's heavy fist smashed into his face and he went flying, jumping to the ground twice before coming to a stop.

With Colt erecting a barrier, Colt's group waited for an opportunity to fire. The moment he waited, he was surprised to learn that the enemy boss had jumped to the place where the commander was. At that astonishing moment, "Ebisu no Kunizo", who was about to turn around the tip of the tube, received Okuma's fiery fist in the middle of his stomach.

Suwako tied a red string to the firearm that fell from Kunizo's hand and pulled the trigger without hesitation. A flurry of shots tore through the crowd in the court, and they scattered in all directions while eating up the foam. Young men ran there, slashing with long doses of wakizashi or hitting with beams to crush them all at once.

In the end, the exchange took less than 20 seconds.

Unno stared at his fist that had no lingering impression and let out a disappointed sigh.

"As I thought, these guys... well... hey..."

Looking curiously at the groaning group of people around him, and at the youths who fell one by one after being attacked in an instant, he gave the following instructions:

"Sorry to interrupt your evening drink, but I'll take care of you at the clinic. Even the brothers in the Occupation Army."

On the way, he noticed that something was flying.

The ten surrounding the open space were not bullets.

It was an anti-tank rocket projecting with a thin column of white smoke behind it.

(This is my favorite!)

His dazzling eyes took in the situation and his thoughts flashed like sparks.

He was probably shot after the two sides collided. The original plan must have been to protect the group with Colt's barrier, leaving only Kagirohi-gumi to suffer. Unable to comprehend the situation due to the night fight, went off as planned.

"Hey, look it up!"

"......!"

Not mistaking his intentions, Suwako stretched countless red threads around her.

At the same time, Unno jumped into the sky. Along the way, he twisted his body and gathered strength.

(Don't you have to be prepared for some fires?)

He couldn't afford to adjust the power.

He just let it go.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh!"

Red flames swirled and circled in the sky near the market.

The interlocking rockets in the searing heat caused one explosion after another.

A roaring sound rushed in from all directions, and those who were in the open space cringed in place. They were saved, but many large pieces of sparks rained down on the night market.

Okuma was the first to get back to his feet, but his expression clouded over at the uproar that had begun to spread out of the vacant lot.

"This is bad."

On top of that, Suwako, who was still crouching down, uttered her voice with a single red thread.

At the end of the thread, Unno in heaven received the voice.

"On the rooftop!"

"I understand!"

From the night sky, he could see the location of whoever fired rockets into the city. On top of the dark thatched roof, there were many duos displaying moves like holding the launcher, loading the next round, and preparing to retreat.

(Hey, it's hard to do.)

Strangely, Unno didn't know what to do.

His attack ripped through the rooftop and burned down the store.

However, if he cleared one set at a time, he would buy them time to load the next bullet.

As expected, Nanakamado was not incompetent either. Although they miscalculated his attack, they had come up with their own plan to fight a disgusting and formidable enemy.

After thinking carefully for more than a second, Unno came to a decision.

(Hey, in this case, just clean up before the fire spreads!)

He kept in close contact with Suwako, had Okuma surprise him from afar, and began to stage a battle, but his voice reached him again. A voice panicked with a sense of danger.

"Yutaka-chan! My strings got blown... Somehow, they're coming!"

"Eh?"

A strange sight was reflected in Unno's field of vision while he was in free fall.

A large number of fireballs fell, creating an uproar throughout the market.

Someone climbed onto the roof and hit the duo.

Or rather, he was suppressing them.

The appearance of wielding a long wakizashi with a terrifyingly elegant movement. He was clearly not a young member of the Kagirohi-gumi. He wasn't alone either. Two, three, more.

(Who...? No, what?)

A mysterious group crossed through the rooftop and overwhelmed the collapsing duo one after another.

(Well, if you catch someone, you'll understand.)

Thinking about it, he was aiming for the landing.

"What?!"

Suddenly, a dazzling radiance spread out like ripples. Crystals that were built in an orderly manner covered the surface of the earth, houses, and even people at a terrifying speed.

Seeing that for the first time, Unno's breath took a deep breath.

The glass covering everything suddenly shattered with a pleasant high-pitched sound and disappeared.

When Unno landed in the original vacant lot, the Kagirohi-gumi members gathered around him. All of them, to a greater or lesser extent, were scared and suspicious at the approach of something mysterious.

The one who was most scared was Suwako, who had all the red strings blown away.

The one who was the most cautious was Okuma, who was showing an unusually nervous look.

Unno also felt a strange and unpleasant tickle deep in his chest. Reaching out with both hands, shoving everyone else back a step, he turned toward a certain wide alley.

Beyond the light of the streetlamps, the footsteps of a large but regular march resounded. Among them, especially sharp footsteps were mixed.

(This guy.)

Unno was convinced of what that guy was.

Just the sound of footsteps overflowed with a feeling that should be called a fundamental discrepancy.

Then, finally, the owner of the steps appeared under the dim light.

A tall, slender man wearing a cap, a waterproof cloak, a uniform, and a saber. The atmosphere was calm and the subordinates that followed him were all dressed in blue.

Unno experienced the expression "all the creeps."

He couldn't read the blue man's emotions. He just waved calmly.

"Good night, "Red King", Unno Yutaka."

"You are..."

Unno felt that he had found what he was looking for.

The warmth that had faded in his daily life revived.

His soul exploded violently.

"TRAILER"

1 2 3 4 5 6...

The end of the ambition sustained by the secret intelligence organization.

Attack the monsters that lurk in post-war Tokyo.

The real threat that is coming and the shadow of the catastrophe.

Roaring in the storm, the clash of the "King" and the "King"

Director of the GoRA writing group.

Exciting entertainment giant.

In the next chapter of "K SIDE: GOLD":

Ootono Benji, the Sixth King, the "Grey King".

The Fifth King, Tsunugui Iku, the "Green King", appears.

Coming soon.

[theinconvenientlifestyle]

While the National Conservatism conference has been making headlines – for reasons ranging from admissions of gerrymandering to calls for delegates to breed – it’s been quite publicity-shy with journalists. openDemocracy was one of at least three left-leaning outlets whose application to cover the conference was refused.

But I managed to blag my way in anyway.

And once inside, I saw no shortage of whackadoodlery. ‘Deep State’ conspiracy theories were alive and well, as a man in a crumpled linen suit rose to his feet to declare: “One of the reasons Liz Truss was removed as prime minister was that her government was going to move against the Net-Zero agenda!” He offered no supporting evidence.

What I found more interesting was the feel of the place. Over 300 delegates, packed into a plush, wood-panelled hall in Westminster. The mood was angry, but comfortable. These were normally shy conservatives, glad to be among like minds, where they could speak freely.

For a ‘national’ conservatism conference in Britain, it was more Trump rally than Sunak conference. The crowd was almost entirely male, and younger than might be expected. In fact, as a 38-year-old, I couldn’t find anyone my own age – it looked like about 80% were under 30, and the other 20% over 50. One man next to me had dragged along his clearly bored girlfriend, who audibly harrumphed through several speeches.

Standard dress was blazers, tweeds, waistcoats, Union Jack bow ties, and summer dresses. In fact, there were more neckties than I’ve seen anywhere since the pandemic. This wasn’t a political convention; it was the Chap Olympiad.

It was a diverse audience, they assured us. Earnest young men introduced themselves as students from both Oxford and Cambridge. But they were not all Oxbridge types. One member of the audience piped up that he was attending the elite $78,000-a-year private Williams College, in Massachusetts.

The ‘red wall’ voters who featured so prominently in rhetoric didn’t appear to be terribly well-represented among the evidently affluent delegates, many of whom had flown in internationally, their airline labels still affixed to the luggage piled up by reception, as delegates introduced themselves as being from Pennsylvania, California, Copenhagen and Brussels. So much for anti-globalisation.

Still, there is an honesty about the conference: delegates and speakers didn’t really seem to care how they came across. A look at the speeches bears this out. “The ‘mad person’ is the apex individual!” declared writer and philosopher Nina Power, to an audience that lapped it up. Quite a few of them seemed keen to play the ‘mad person’.

What got them going

Most revealing were the bursts of applause. Energetic, prolonged, tub-thumping applauses whenever somebody said something that really struck a chord. It was instructive to see what pressed their buttons.

Immigration was the hottest topic – a guaranteed crowd-pleaser every time. In fact, delegates seemed inordinately interested in it, with outbursts of “oooooh” and “hear, hear” at every mention.

Someone who worked for the hard-right YouTube channel Triggernometry complained: “The left doesn’t distinguish between legal and illegal immigration! That’s what’s happened to people I know, particularly [in] London.” Mentions of London, or big cities, were often accompanied by a hiss.

Another barnstorming topic was gun ownership. When recently elected Trump-backed senator JD Vance of Ohio mentioned that he attended a raffle event where the prize was an AR-15 assault rifle, a prolonged ripple of applause broke out.

Nina Power’s declaration that “I strongly recommend everyone goes to church” also got a rapturous reception, suggesting that the “faith” part of the old far-right rallying cry of ‘Faith, Flag and Family’ is alive and well.

Clean energy and wind farms were a popular object of anger. Vance – who opposes US support for Ukraine – still gave the war as a reason for countries to stick to “coal and gas”, invoking populist tropes against wind farms: “I don’t want to live in some post-apocalyptic hellscape filled with dead birds!”

The subject of trans people’s rights was another favourite bogeyman, as speakers queued up to ridicule “hormones” and trans people themselves, with repeated references to so-called “basic biology”.

Meanwhile, Frank Furedi, a former leader of the Revolutionary Communist Party, who has now seamlessly moved to the far right, told the audience that the conservative cause was “civilisational… there’s so much at stake… it’s existential.”

And, curiously, the most quoted political thinker was Karl Marx. More Marx was cited than at any Corbyn-era Labour Party conference. Delegates seemed obsessed with the idea that Marx lurks behind every corner.

Think tanks

Not all of the delegates were slightly awkward young men from Oxbridge and private liberal arts colleges in the US.

Many introduced themselves as working for conservative think tanks. This makes sense, for the ‘national’ conservatism conference in the UK is in fact organised by the Edmund Burke Foundation, a US think tank.

Among the many think tanks represented were the Bow Group, the Centre for Digital Assets and Democracy, the Alliance for Responsible Citizenship (an offshoot of the Legatum Institute), and the Hungarian-state-funded Danube Institute – one of the few civil society organisations the Orbán government has not cracked down on, but has instead propped up.

Talk was rife, on and off the stage, of “Anglosphere conservatism” – code for stage two of Brexit, with deepening relations with the hard-right.

Media management

Perhaps surprisingly, given its shambolic public image, the conference has a professionally organised social media presence. It’s just that none of the curators seems to think there’s anything amiss with what is being said.

Organisers film the proceedings, transcribing highlights, while monitoring Twitter and Facebook mentions in real-time, along with a WhatsApp channel.

The conference itself has been tweeting carefully curated highlights of some speeches. (See Douglas Murray declaring, “There was nothing wrong with nationalism in Britain, it’s just that there was something wrong with nationalism in Germany. I don’t see why no one should be allowed to love their country because the Germans mucked it up twice in a century.”)

Of course, one of the two reception desks was marked ‘media’. Given how many journalists had been kept out, perhaps that should have been marked ‘desk for excluding media’.

Is this the future of the right? They certainly think so. Professor Tim Bale has warned elsewhere, though, that this risks being a “cul de sac” for British conservatives – of great interest to the activist base, but navel-gazing over issues that leave most voters baffled, or even alienated.

This is a strand of the right that enjoys seeing itself as a popular insurgency, against the old boys’ club of Westminster politics, the heirs to UKIP and Brexit. But meeting in a prestigious Westminster venue, they did not seem to practise what they preached.

In fact, all it took for me to get in, free of charge, despite my not having booked, was my plummy accent, a blazer, a Panama hat, and old college cufflinks. Deference quickly kicked in, and they were tugging at their forelocks to show me in, imagining me to be one of their own. This was about as ‘establishment’ a gathering as you could imagine.

[zurich-snows]

Walking with Nandita

By Moyra Davey

Here was the soup. It was a plain gravy soup. There was nothing to stir the fancy in that. One could have seen through the transparent liquid any pattern that there might have been on the plate itself. But there was no pattern. The plate was plain. —Virginia Woolf, “A Room of One’s Own” (1929)

New York City, 157th Street

I am trying to think “language or hunger,” but I inevitably supplant hunger with eating, not eating, and shitting, all of which differ from hunger. Hunger is abstract, and my mind goes to things that are concrete.

Alejandra Pizarnik’s Diarios are pure poetry. I made the rounds of Paris bookstores till I found a single copy of the beautiful José Corti paperback with Pizarnik’s face on it. She is pulling a book off a high shelf and staring back at the camera, at us. I kept this book on a skinny Chippendale bookcase next to my bed with the cover facing out for several years so that I might meet her soulful gaze daily. I read a hundred pages or so before standing the book up like that. I was blown away by the diaries, but they are also inescapably dark. For Pizarnik, suicide was not a question of if but when, and she wrote about it almost daily, as though death was her little friend. She envied Virginia Woolf.

Hungry, thirsty, in need of stimulants, Pizarnik’s appetites and cravings were outsized. She hated herself after lunch and dinner, and wrote: “To not eat I must be happy. And I cannot be happy if I am fat.”

In my bones I understand Pizarnik’s tautology, but my mind needs to metabolize it over and over. I memorize it; it slips away.

Here is Alison Strayer’s lovely spin (Pizarnik’s idea somewhat teased out): “to write, driven by inspiration, you have to be thin and fleet, and to be thin and fleet you have to write, driven by inspiration. A conundrum.”

In her 1975 film Je tu il elle (I, You, He, She), Chantal Akerman shovels powdered sugar into her mouth while writing lying down—she is composing and revising a very long letter. The entire bag of sugar is ingested, spoonful by spoonful, to fuel the manic, around-the-clock writing. As viewers of her film, we bear witness to what is surely one of the most sustained and inspired moments of self-abuse in the service of avant-garde, materialist cinema.

Conversely, when Virginia Woolf succumbed to periods of so-called madness, the treatment consisted of denying her both language and hunger. She was not permitted to read or write, and she was made to consume excessive quantities of meat and milk. Her intellect was starved, and her naturally thin frame was fattened against her will. According to her great-niece, Emma Woolf, the regimen consisted of: “Four or five pints of milk daily, as well as cutlets, liquid malt extract and beef tea.”

Woolf appears gaunt in some of her photographs. Like many writers, she probably didn’t experience hunger when she was writing. She was prolific, and it is likely that language evacuated bodily hunger for a good portion of her life. Her great-niece has speculated that Woolf was anorexic, but if that’s the case I’d wager only in the sense that she had no appetite. Though who knows. Forced to bulk up, she might have developed a fear of fat.

Woolf wrote about food, most famously in “A Room of One’s Own.” She describes the bland meal served in the dining hall of a women’s college and speculates on the necessary (and there absent) connection between stimulation of the palate and stimulation of the mind. In “Evening over Sussex” she describes the comfort food that awaits her after a long day of travel and walking, and no doubt writing parts of the namesake essay in her head.

In the episode of Ulysses known as “Calypso,” which begins with a very large printed “M,” Leopold Bloom, after his breakfast of grilled kidneys, famously retires to the outhouse where he reads two columns of the newspaper and produces one or two excremental pillars of his own. Evacuated and grateful, he nonetheless envies the writer of the article who was paid “at the rate of one guinea a column.”

American artist Pope.L masticates the Wall Street Journal and allegedly washes it down with milk while sitting atop a toilet perched on a tower.

Canadian poet Elizabeth Smart, living in England, makes a New Year’s resolution list for the year 1945. Below are the first seven items listed:

1) Keep a diary or Daily Notebook. 2) Keep Accounts and never spend more than £20 a month on living (and partly living). 3) Keep the children Prettily dressed always. 4) Keep Everything Clean. 5) Answer all letters within three days. 6) Keep bowels open. 7) Have a baby. [checked] Sebastian 16 April 1945.

Discipline, money/frugality, cleanliness, punctuality, open bowels (which I’m sure Smart meant literally, but I’d also infer an implied wish for writing to flow more readily), and having a baby form the top priorities. Smart had four babies all by the same man, George Barker, who’d never consent to live with her, nor would he let her go, thus keeping her in a decades-long state of unrequited craving and misery.

Writing at the end of her life, in a state of relative isolation, photographer Julia Margaret Cameron was clear about her needs: “I feel it is as necessary to give a hungry heart a letter as a hungry body a slice of bread.”

continued...

[rufamaeferrer]

VIBRANT ODYSSEY: UNVEILING THE RICH TAPESTRY OF MY INDIAN ADVENTURE

Have you ever imagined yourself to enter a world where time is meaningless, and beauty has no limits? Let me take you on a breathtaking journey as I reveal the magical truths of Taj Mahal, where history meets love and architectural wonder in an inspiring assembly of awesome grandeur.

The Taj Mahal, often considered the symbol of unending love it has a tale that goes beyond its point in time. Plunge yourself into the story of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal a love so deep that it resulted in this monument. Every stone block tells stories of devotion and passion, allowing readers to feel the romantic heritage on which this architectural masterpiece is built.

Introducing the mind-boggling opulence and grandeur of Taj Mahal. Soaked by the first light of dawn, its sparkling facade illuminated as it becomes a magnificent sight. The marble in changing hues from soft pink to brilliant white creates visual Symphony, which leaves you spellbounded. Every step reveals the intricate details of inlaid gemstones and delicate carvings that shine a light on the craftsmanship dating back millennia.

Photographers, rejoice! Meet the hiddenest secrets on how to photograph the Taj Mahal at its best. Every hour from dawn to dusk has its view. Find the perfect angles and compositions that will make your images unforgettable, by making your trip to India’s architectural jewel an amazing visual masterpiece.

Your trip to the Taj Mahal cannot be complete without tasting local taste that Agra has in store for you. This is from tantalizing street food to refined Mughlai cuisine, enjoy the tastes that have been fine tuned for centuries. Take the time from your itinerary to get away from tourist crowds in Agra and explore some of its unspoiled attractions, which make this a historical treasure surrounded by vivacious culture.

What about dealing with the masses or omitting vital details? Fear not! Dive into my insider recommendations in order to have a smooth and memorable visit at the Taj Mahal. From when to go for a more peaceful environment to figuring out how best hit the ticketing systems, equip yourself with all the knowledge you need and ensure that your adventure of a lifetime pans out beautifully.

Dive into a journey that takes you beyond such simple tourism – see the Taj Mahal in an entirely new way. Let it inspire you with its beauty and imprint on your soul forever. Your next great adventure awaits, so pack your bags and get ready to step into a world where history, love, and architectural brilliance converge in an unparalleled spectacle: the Taj Mahal.

As I was moving towards the stunning Hawa Mahal, its honeycomb-like facade filled me with awe. 1799 built in by Maharaja Sawai Pratap Singh this “Palace of Winds” is a living monument for the rich history of Jaipur. Its distinctive pink color, which virtually defines the city’s nickname “The Pink City,” creates a visual attraction even before one enters its walls.

Innovations fascinated me as I walked through the skillfully constructed latticework, and each arch appeared to whisper stories of a past time. Mahal Hawa was brilliantly built so that royal women could enjoy the spectacle of street festivals while remaining unseen – a marvel from history which took me back to those times. Each window had a story and as I looked through, the colorful madness of citylife opened up before me.

Get ready to be amazed by discovering hidden chambers and royal secrets concealed in Hawa Mahal. While I traipsed the maze-like halls, I chanced upon rooms that used to resound with royal laughter. The palace’s unusual architecture was full of surprises on every step, thus bringing mysteriousness to my journey.

During the golden hour, true magic of Hawa Mahal is seen. I positioned myself in a good position to see the sunset and as it descended below the horizon, there was an instantaneous transformation of one pink facade after another on large scale towards warm hues. The play of light and shadow on the beautifully carved windows just hypnotized me, embedding it in my memory.

My enchanting journey did not prevent me from enjoying the tastes of Rajasthan in Hawa Mahal ‘ s tranquil courtyard. From time-honored Rajasthani fare to fragrant chai, every morsel was a testament of the gastronomic talent that is characteristic of this region. The lively atmosphere and tasty dishes provided a satisfying finale to my memorable day.

The visit to Hawa Mahal was purely magical, almost transcending time and imagination. Starting from the historical importance to the architectural excellence, this palace calls for travelers to lose themselves in its magical history. Don’t miss the opportunity to have your own adventure and understand the allure of Hawa Mahal where every moment is a chapter waiting to be written!

The instant I entered through the massive gates at Agra Fort, it struck me as if history itself enveloped me. The sheer enormity of this UNESCO World Heritage site, standing proudly along the Yamuna River was enough to take me back in time. As I traversed this historical expedition, the red sandstone walls reverberated with stories of Mughal Empire that enraptured my mind.

Walking through the beautifully designed courtyards, I was awestruck by the architectural brilliance seen in a form of Agra Fort. The grandeur of Mughal gatherings was borne out by the pillars adorned with intricate carvings in Diwan-i -Am or Hall of Public Audience. I shivered at the notion of emperors holding court in this very place centuries ago.

The iconic Jahangir Mahal palace within the fort was another high light of my journey, an epitome off royal luxury. Marble lattices and intricate balconies revealed the grandeur of Mughal royalty. From these vantage points, the Taj Mahal in the distance made this stop even more enchanting.

As I ventured further into the fort’s concealed corridors, its well-guarding walls revealed their secrets. The Khas Mahal or, Private Palace showed the more personal side of Mughal life embossed with beautiful floral designs and softly lit by filtering light through its jali windows. It was here that I could almost hear the whispers of short passed echoing through chambers.

I was simply astounded by the detailed mirror work that filled this chamber, covering every surface and turning it into a breathtaking sight in The Sheesh Mahal or Mirror Palace. It was as though I had entered a fairy land, surrounded by the glittering reflections that decorated all surfaces. The craftmanship and sophistication in detail that was evident made it clear what a mastery these Mughal artisans enjoyed.

At my exploration, I discovered the Musamman Burj a magnificent octagonal tower where Shah Jahan spent his last days when he was in captivity as an iconic builder of Taj Mahal. The touching story of unrealized love and architectural genius created a melancholic ambiance, imprinting it indelibly in my memory.

The lush gardens around the Agra Fort offered a peaceful counterpoint to the magnificence of its buildings. Walking through these green havens, it is possible to imagine how Mughal emperor found comfort while surrounded by such beauty and peace.

As the sun started to set, I climbed up towards these fort ramps. panoramic views of Agra bathed in the light of dawn, Taj Mahal standing proudly on other side to Yamuna painted a picture which belonged only too timeless beauty. The declining sunrise illuminated the red sandstone, transforming fortress into an extraordinary picture.

As I walked down the ramparts, I found myself in Anguri Bagh a delightful grape garden on which once Mughal royalty had created their haven. The smell of blossoming flowers and the sounds of chirping birds formed a sensory paradise, serving as an escape from my immersive experience.

Reflecting on my trip to Agra Fort, it wasn’t merely a journey but a pilgrimage into the core of India ‘s heritage. Each stage showed dimensions of an interesting story that made me admire the cultural breadth packed within formidable walls of a fortress. Agra Fort, full of grandeur and historical importance inscribed one unforgettable page to my travel log — a history that echoes its dazzling past.

[virgolarity]

Sitting in The Car, by Arctic Monkeys;

Before Arctic Monkeys, having a favorite band seemed like an in-comprehensive concept, until it clicked, and it was a ravishing experience!

Twelve years have passed since I came across this band, yet despite their ever-changing sound, somehow they’re always in correlation to the type of music I needed to hear at the time—perhaps with even better intuition than myself; especially after the release of “There’d Better Be a Mirrorball” which by surprise happened on my birthday as I was in a sorrowful state of grief for the leaking yesterdays, and it did in fact “suit the mood” at the right time and place.

the strings of “There’d Better Be a Mirrorball” longingly dance under a mirrorball as the perplexing grief the lyrics are conveying unfolds, some call it a mere coincidence, however to me, it felt like Arctic Monkeys had breached into the innermost depths of my mind and turned it into a song “don’t get emotional, that ain’t like you” allowed me to feel the yearning melancholy and eventually farewell from the grief; psychoanalyst Carl Jung calls these moments “unus mundus” and I think he’s right.

a sense of being out of place seems to be a prominent theme in this album “I Ain't Quite Where I Think I am” is a funky disco song but the narrator is expressing paranoia; could it be referring to the absurdity of this post-pandemic world or the band is portraying their perspective of the mixed reviews which their previous album received as being in a show business party but everyone there is expecting you to recreate “AM” instead of what you’re presenting, but why should a band be damned to leather jackets and sounding the same as the album they’ve released a decade ago instead of evolving.

“Sculptures Of Anything Goes” is the momentous track on this album, the song conveys this vacant darkness and perhaps the most revealing moment is “puncturing your bubble of relatability with your horrible new sound” where I sort of got the impression that they’re strongly dismissing the requests of going back “AM” era as the band has always had different music styles in each record— while towards the end Alex reveals that the popularity of ”AM” has made the transitory nature of their musical styles struggle to untangle from their AM persona “and help me to get untied from the chandelier” side note: if that “your mum” joke was referring to us longtime fans I’m alright with that.

“Jet Skis On The Moat” is the liminal point that seems to be bringing the audience a question “is there somethin' on your mind, or are you just happy to sit there and watch while the paint job dries?” are you enjoying the new route or are you ready to get out of the car? the car is taking the metaphorical role of their musical journey.

“Body Paint” creates a cinematic illusion around the ongoing theme of yearning and suspicion; staring into my subconscious like “I know you’re lying to yourself” with a dramatically heightening buildup of instruments, the entire song revolves around the line “and if you’re thinking of me, I’m probably thinking of you” as if the old romantic fool slips out.

“The Car” reminded me of Hotel California and the movie “I’m Thinking of Ending Things” like the film, the song recalls an agonizing holiday road trip as the tension of the music climbs higher and higher reaching madness.

“Big Ideas” stands in an empty hall; where once was filled with unconditional love and applause now surrounded by the orchestra and the old guitar riffs are sorrowful as they faintly appear on occasion like a faded memory. the audience doesn’t know what happened and neither is Alex.

“Hello You” the battle of strings and borrowed melodies from “knee socks” gloriously drags the one last farewell to a pivotal chapter in their journey, it apologizes for disappointments and thanks the audience for the grand times—the bridge beautifully frees the torment of contemplation and regrets and then at the highest point, it stops.

“Mr. Schwartz” contains such enigmatic lyrics “there might be half a love song in it all for you, timing-wise, it's probably for the best” makes a sly reference to their usual track list orders having a love song before the ending track, but this one isn’t. throughout the album Alex disguises as many characters that earnestly deliver his sincerest lyrical moments through what he does best, ironic metaphors that seem too clever for their own good!

“Perfect Sense” is the perfect curtain-down moment where the car reaches the final destination of an album tangled up with nostalgia, lost train of thoughts, and uncertainty.

“The Car” is quite an enigmatic journey, enfolding you in Alex Turner’s eccentric ways of conveying emotions combined with the members' impeccable instrumental moments, falsettos, and strings that pull at your heart; it’s Arctic Monkeys like they’ve always been, defying predictability.

[luminnara]

alpha!erasermic x pregnant!reader | ABO fluff

Request:  Hiya! i’m wondering if you can do an alpha! erasermic x pregnant! omega! reader? maybe when both alphas leave their lunch at home and she goes to bring it to them. the reader and both alphas collectively have custody of hitoshi and eri, and the reader is heavily pregnant. preferably a female reader please, and none of class 1-a have met her. this is my first time requesting stuff so i hope i did okay! 😅

You did wonderfully! I love writing cute fluffy stuff like this, and it’s my first time writing any kind of erasermic thing even though I love them so much, so hopefully I did okay! Idk where exactly this sits timeline-wise, don’t worry about it, it’s omegaverse and I can do what I want lol. I took this prompt and sort of RAN with it, too

*also Mirio has his quirk back in this because it’s fun, and the reader has kind of a dodgy past because i wanted to add a little SPICE*

Warnings: a/b/o, pregnancy, the implications of Aizawa’s scarf and all of its uses

You sighed, resting a hand on your swollen belly. “Those two...”

You had only just gotten Eri out of bed, and, upon heading into the kitchen to fix her some breakfast, you saw two lovingly-prepared bento boxes sitting on the counter. Shota and Hizashi must have forgotten them in their hurry to get to UA earlier that morning, and while you knew they could very easily grab something to eat in the cafeteria, you hated the thought of these meals going to waste.

Besides, your inner omega was a bit miffed that they hadn’t taken your home cooked food to work with them. Was Lunch Rush’s food so much better than yours that your alphas would rather eat at school? You refused to believe that, even if his quirk was cooking. There was no way that he could make your alphas a meal that could compare to the kind you always cooked for them, and maybe it was the pregnancy hormones making you extra bristly about it, but you were determined to march right on over to UA and bring them their proper lunches. 

Even if you were heavily, heavily pregnant. They’d probably have something to say about you leaving the house and waddling around Musutafu with only Eri as company, but you were tough enough to fend for yourself. And besides, it was only a quick train ride to the station outside the school, and if you did get yourself into any kind of trouble, the city was chock full of pro heroes and their sidekicks, many of whom you were on a first name basis with. 

“Eri!” you called, grabbing a bag to carry the boxes in. “Are you dressed yet? We’re going to visit UA!”

You could heard a thump, followed by the sound of little feet thudding as she ran to meet you. When she appeared in the doorway, her eyes were wide with excitement, her long hair falling around her shoulders messily. “Yes!”

“Go brush your hair and then we’ll go,” you laughed, ushering her towards the bathroom. 

“Why are we going?” the little girl called. 

“Hizashi and Shota left their lunches,” you explained. “We’re bringing them so that the food doesn’t go to waste.”

“Can we visit Deku and Togata?”

You paused to think. You hadn’t actually met any of Shota and Hizashi’s students before, your alphas always preferring that you stay home and away from the sometimes dangerous school they taught at. Well, you knew Hitoshi, of course, and since he had yet to move into the dorms on campus, he still lived at home with the rest of the family. At least he had remembered to grab his lunch. Would your adopted son be embarrassed to see you appearing at his school? Hitoshi always carried himself in a very collected manner, and the thought of being able to show up and pinch his cheeks and coo at him made you laugh. 

And you knew that everyone in Class 1-A would be over the moon to see Eri. The little girl that had been rescued from Overhaul was popular amongst the young heroes-in-training, from what you’d heard, and if you were going to go all the way to UA, you’d be damned if you didn’t let her see her friends there. 

“Of course we can,” you said with a smile as she came running back in, her hair significantly less tangled. “Ready?”

“Ready!” she beamed up at you.

“Do me a favor and carry this?” you offered her the tote you’d tucked the bento boxes into and she took it from you eagerly, bouncing towards the door. 

You grabbed your purse, made sure your keys were inside, and followed her out, taking her free hand. Together, the two of you made your way to the nearest train station, a few neighbors waving hello as you passed. There were no villains to be seen or head of, and the pros you saw out on patrol all looked happy and relaxed. They all knew who you were, some of the betas and omegas approaching to chat about your pregnancy and ask how things were going. The alphas hung back, calling greetings or offering waves, none of them wanting to get too close to a pregnant, mated omega and risk the wrath of your alphas if their scents happened to cling to you. 

The journey went smoothly, Eri sticking close to your side the entire way. You were both excited to be going to visit UA--Eri, because she would get to see Deku and Mirio, and you because you hadn’t been to the school in years--and as you stepped off the train and the gates finally came into view, you let out a happy laugh. 

“Ready?” you asked Eri, leading her towards the entrance. 

“Mhm!” she nodded eagerly, pulling you forward. “Let’s go! Let’s go let’s go let’s go--”

“Hang on, hang on,” you waddled after her as quickly as you could, fishing around in your purse. When you finally found what you were looking for, you pulled out an ID card, holding it up towards the sensor atop the UA Barrier gate. “You have your card?”

“Yep!” Eri said, grabbing the card hanging from the lanyard around her neck and mimicking you. 

“Special ID accepted,” a robotic voice chimed. “Welcome to UA High, (y/n) and Eri.”

The gate opened and you led Eri through it, the big school looming just past it. The special ID cards you both had were a result of Shota insisting that you be able to get to UA if you ever needed to. With the upgraded security measures, and so many of the students living in the dorms, it wasn’t easy getting onto the campus without either a student or guest card. You probably technically weren’t even supposed to have one, but no one was going to argue with Aizawa and Yamada when it came to ensuring their omega would be able to get to them in case of emergency.

This wasn’t exactly an emergency, but it was still an important mission, so you had absolutely no qualms about using your special ID privileges today. You just hoped nobody else would be mad about it.

 “Hey, is that Eri I see?” a voice called. 

You turned to see a blond haired, blue eyed boy jogging towards you and recognized him as Togata. He was dressed in a PE uniform, and as he stopped in front of you, you could see that he was panting. 

Eri immediately set the bag down and rushed toward him, running into his open arms. “Lemillion!”

Mirio laughed as he scooped her into a hug. “What are you doing here? Aizawa didn’t mention anything about a visit!”

“Aizawa forgot his lunch today,” you said, nodding towards the bag Eri had dropped. “So we thought we’d bring it and visit.”

Mirio straightened up a bit when he realized you were there. You had to be absolutely covered in your alphas’ scents, and even if they never told any of the students about you, there was no way that Mirio hadn’t figured it out by now. Besides...your bond marks were very big and very visible, one on each side of your neck just below your scent glands. There was no way Mirio didn’t know what that all added up to. 

You had never officially met him, but you’d heard plenty about all of UA’s Big Three, and after he and Deku saved Eri from the Shie Hassaikai, you’d heard even more about him. He was selfless, going so far as to sacrifice his own quirk to keep Eri safe and get her away from Overhaul, and for that, you’d always feel a little indebted to him. He’d luckily been able to get it back, but Aizawa had told you that there had been a long period in which nobody was sure it could even be returned to him. 

“Oh, s-sorry!” he bowed to you. “I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced! I’m Togata Mirio, I was there at the Shie Hassaikai raid--”

“I’ve heard plenty about you,” you laughed as he straightened up again. “I’m (y/n). I’m the stay at home omega that keeps Shota and Hizashi from starving all the time.”

Mirio’s laugh was probably one of the most raucously happy sounds you had ever heard. “We’re all grateful for that! As for me, personally, I’m really glad Eri has such a great mom now, too. And you’ve got more on the way!”

“Sure do,” you groaned, a hand on your lower back as you tried to lean and stretch it out some. “Due date’s in just a couple weeks. Can’t wait to get ‘em outta here.”

“Well, at least you already know how to do the parenting part!” Mirio was still all smiles as Eri grabbed for his hand and he took it, picking up the tote bag as well. “Come on, it’s my free period so I’ll take you to 1-A’s classroom.”

“Thank you, Togata,” you said, hand on your belly as you followed him into the school. 

“It’s no problem!” he beamed at you over his shoulder as he led the way. “It’s almost lunch, too. Perfect timing!”

“Is it really?” you glanced up at a clock on the wall, and sure enough, it was nearly noon. “Wow. Guess we took longer than I thought. But...ugh, I didn’t bring any food for myself or Eri...”

“That’s no problem! Lunch Rush always has tons of options in the Grand Mess Hall.” at your slight glare, Mirio added, “...But I’m sure even his best cooking is no substitute for a homemade meal!”

“That’s right,” you growled, waddling along down the hall. 

When the three of you reached the 1-A door, Mirio used his permeation quirk to stick his head straight through it rather than knocking, and judging by the resounding scream of surprise that nearly shattered the windows, he had scared Hizashi half to death.

Mirio pulled back and opened the door, revealing a room full of groaning students, all clutching their ears. Hizashi was the only one who seemed unbothered by the sheer volume of the scream he had let out, clutching his chest instead. 

“Why can’t you knock like a normal person, dumbass?” a blond boy snarled. 

“Bakugou! You shouldn’t swear in front of esteemed upperclassmen!” a black-haired boy with glasses said. 

“It’s not just me you’re swearing in front of!” Mirio said, still smiling, like always. With a nod of his head, he tugged Eri into the room.

Everyone lit up, and you even caught Bakugou’s harsh expression softening some at the sight of her. 

“Eri!” a freckly, green haired boy exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. 

“Deku!” the little girl yelled happily, letting go of Mirio’s hand to run towards him.

You watched as he knelt down to greet her, the rest of the class all getting up, or at the very least leaning over in their seats to say hello. All except Hitoshi, who looked up, made eye contact with you, started to roll his eyes, and then sighed. 

Oh, you were so going to embarrass him today. 

Hizashi was still trying to catch his breath, but now, with the students all distracted by Eri, he finally had a chance to notice you. You could see his nostrils flare as he recognized your scent, his head whipping around to spot you standing there in the door.

“BABE!” he rushed toward you, pulling you into a hug. 

“Hi, Hizashi,” you laughed into his shoulder, clinging to his jacket as he rubbed his scent gland over your hair. 

He immediately pulled back, holding you at arm’s length as he looked you over. “What’re you doing here? Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” you chuckled. When he glanced down at your swollen belly, you added, “we’re fine.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Okay, good. Had me worried there for a sec.”

“They came to bring you lunch!” Mirio said, holding up the bag he had carried in for you. “I ran into her and Eri outside while I was out for my daily jog.”

“Togata here was very helpful,” you said. “He even carried that bag for us.”

“Gotta help everyone who needs it, whenever I can!” the teenager gave you a thumbs up. 

“Thanks, Mirio.” Hizashi said, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you up against his side. “Means a lot to me that my family stays safe.”

“Family?”

You turned to see all of Class 1-A staring at you. 

Hizashi cleared his throat, the sound practically echoing. “Everybody, this is my mate.”

The room suddenly erupted. 

“Who is she?”

“Is she a pro?”

“Can’t believe anybody would put up with him...”

“Bakugou, quiet! Don’t be rude!”

“But, wait...” Deku said, still kneeling with Eri. “I thought Eri’s been living with Mr. Aizawa..?”

The students all glanced to each other before their eyes swiveled to you and Hizashi. 

“Oh, Hizashi,” you teased. “You never told them?”

“I, uh...” a slight pink tinged his cheeks as he blushed.  

Luckily, before he had the chance to stumble over his words any longer, he was saved by the appearance of a very tired, very disgruntled, Eraserhead. 

“What the hell is going on and why the hell are you screaming in my classroom?” he growled from the doorway. 

Hizashi turned the two of you to face him, and you saw the anger immediately drain from Aizawa’s face. 

“...What are you doing here?” he asked, his bloodshot eyes full of concern. “Everything okay?”

“Hi, Papa!” Eri chimed from her spot next to Deku. 

“...Hello, Eri. Why are you also here?”

“You both forgot your lunches,” you said, practically scolding them. “I worked hard on those!”

“So you came all the way here just to bring us lunch? You realize we have an entire cafeteria here, right?”

“Don’t even think about it,” you growled. 

“You shouldn’t be walking across Musutafu without at least Hitoshi with you. It’s too dangerous.”

At the mention of his name, everyone’s heads swiveled to look at Shinso. He sighed, slumping back in his chair and dragging a hand down his face. 

“You know, if you wouldn’t forget the lunches that I so lovingly put all that hard work into, I wouldn’t even have to go all the way across Musutafu to bring them to you.” you said haughtily, nose up in the air as you stared your alpha down. “And besides...you know better than anyone that I can take care of myself, and Eri, no matter how pregnant I am.”

Aizawa sighed. He knew there was no arguing with you when you got in a mood like this, and besides...you were already there. 

And you were right.

Before he could even come up with something to say, the bell rang, signaling that it was time for lunch, and soon, you were walking down the hall between your two alphas, Eri riding on Deku’s shoulders as Class 1-A flooded out along with you. 

You ended up sitting in the mess hall with the students, sandwiched between Hizashi and Shota. Shota didn’t seem entirely pleased with it, mentioning several times that he’d much rather be in the teachers’ lounge where it was quieter, but Eri was far too happy to be with Class 1-A for him to actually tear her away from them. She was across from you, sitting next to Deku and a brown haired girl you learned was named Ochako. Mirio had left to go find his own friends, the other two members of The Big Three, and you could see him just a few tables over, laughing loudly with a blue haired girl with a boy with pointy ears looked like he was trying to will himself out of existence next to them. 

“It’s so exciting that Mr. Aizawa has a whole family!” Ochako said. 

“And with Present Mic, too,” Tsu, the frog girl, said from her spot next to her. 

“How long have you been together?” the pink girl, Mina, asked.

“Don’t ask so many personal questions! We should respect their privacy.” Iida said, in true class rep fashion. 

When Shota only offered a grunt in reply, too focused on his lunch to actually talk with his homeroom class, and with Hizashi already stuffing his face, you took it upon yourself to chat. 

“Oh, I don’t mind the questions!” you said with a good natured laugh. “I met Hizashi and Shota when we all went to school together. Then we lost touch, because I...well, I sort of...chose a different life path than they did.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Hizashi slurped up his soba. 

“Here.” you looked up to see Hitoshi had brought you and Eri each a tray of food, setting them down in front of the two of you. 

“You’re so good to your mother,” you cooed, reaching up to grab his cheek. 

He dodged you expertly, ducking out of the way and going to sit with Bakugou and his friends on Deku’s other side. You narrowed your eyes at him, making sure he knew that he couldn’t run forever, and as Denki watched the exchange, he spoke up. 

“...Wait. You didn’t become a pro hero?” he asked. 

“I took the hero course here at UA.” you explained, grabbing your chopsticks. “I ended up dropping out before graduation. This is actually my first time back since then.”

“So...” Deku seemed nervous. “Were you, uh...”

“A villain?” you asked. 

When he nodded quickly, you laughed and offered a nod of your own. 

“Yeah, I suppose I was. My quirk used to be wild, and hard to control...I got so frustrated when I wasn’t making any progress with it that I decided to just leave school. I was mad at everyone, and I fell in with people who felt the same way. One thing leads to another, and next thing you know, I’m running from the loudest, most obnoxious pro hero in the city.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Hizashi, who was doing his best not to choke on his lunch. 

“And he never caught me,” you said adoringly, leaning against his shoulder. 

“I never caught you on my own,” he corrected. 

“Made my ears bleed a few times, I think.”

“Yes, and I don’t regret that.” he pressed a cute, fluttery little kiss against the tip of your nose. “You were absolutely going to kill me.”

“Not absolutely!” you protested. 

“I had to rescue him.” Aizawa spoke up, his voice gruff and tired, like always. “Had to cancel your quirk and keep you tied down until the others could get to us.”

You smirked at your first memory of his scarf and what it could do, and as you did so, he realized that he had just admitted to tying you up with it in front of his idiot students.

“And that’s when I fell in looooove,” you grabbed his arm, batting your lashes at him obnoxiously. 

“Not another word.” he growled. 

The students were all staring at you with wide eyes. All except Hitoshi, who was rolling his. 

“I guess you could say I was reformed,” you said, grabbing some noodles. “Then one thing led to another, and...here we are.” You patted your belly. 

“That’s so romantic,” Mina sighed, leaning her chin on her hand. 

“What’s your quirk?” Ochako asked. 

“I could show you!” you said eagerly, moving to stand.

“Absolutely not.” Shota held onto your arm and forced you to sit down again. “You are due in two weeks. No nonsense until after the pups are born.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes now. 

“Fine,” you mumbled with a sigh. “I never get to have fun anymore.”

“But pups are so exciting!” the invisible girl, Hagakure, said. 

“Yeah!” Mina agreed. 

Then, the rest of the girls bombarded you with questions. 

“How many are you having?”

“What day are they coming?!”

“Can we meet them?”

“Mr. Aizawa, please can you bring them in to the dorms??”

“--But Mr. Aizawa, this is the safest place in Japan. There’s no way anything bad would happen to them--”

“--And besides, (y/n) has a super strong quirk, right? She said so!”

“Come on, just let us see the brats when they’re old enough to travel.”

The sound of Bakugou’s voice had everyone staring at the blond boy. 

“...What?” he bristled. “It’s not like I care, I just want the girls to shut up.”

“Uh huh. Sure, Bakugou.” Kirishima snorted. 

“...maybe.” Aizawa relented, eager to shut them all up. 

That was enough for the girls, and they immediately began talking chattering about the cutest baby clothes, the best toys, and then the differences between their own upbringings. You enjoyed listening to them throughout the rest of lunch, and by the time the hour had ended, you were sad to be leaving. 

“Hang on, hang on,” Hizashi said as you took Eri’s hand to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” you furrowed your brow. “Why?”

“We told you,” Shota said, standing with his hands in his pockets. “We don’t want you wandering around the city.”

“And I told you, I’m fine--”

“Just stay here for the rest of the day.”

“...What?”

“We’ll all go home together later.” Hizashi smiled. “You and Eri can hang out in the lounge. I bet Midnight would love to pester you about the bump, too.”

You smiled, walking towards your alphas. “Alright. Alright, yeah. That sounds nice.”

As Class 1-A lingered at the end of the hall, watching for as long as they could get away with, Denki elbowed Hitoshi in the side. 

“Dude, your mom is--”

“Don’t you dare say hot.” Shinso growled. 

“Actually, I was gonna say badass, but that too--”

The purple haired boy glared at him. “Shut up, Denki.”

“What? It’s a compliment!”

[twistnet]

cold [ jim street ]

⋯ SUMMARY ; you’ve come down with a cold, and jim steps in to take care of you 

⋯ PROMPT ; [ pharmacy note ]  you or your lover come down with a sickness, and one of you runs to the store to get them anything they could possibly need

⋯ WARNINGS ; female!reader, slight angst [ mentions of sickness + colds ], general fluff [ comfort + kisses ] + mature language 

it’s nearly midnight in los angeles. and jim, dressed haphazardly in sweatpants and a t-shirt, stands in the drugstore cold and flu section overlooking all the medications. he’s tired, and not entirely sure what to get that doesn’t taste like shit, or help you out with what you're dealing with. but, he knows you need it, otherwise you’ll be up all night just trying to breathe.

so, he grabs what looks good -- something for your fever and cough, before trialing down the aisles to grab something to keep you hydrated through the night. he chooses a soup and soda. adding in one of your favorite snacks as a little something extra before making his way up to the register.

he’s out of the store in less than two minutes, all his items wrapped tightly in the paper bag the guy behind the counter had given him -- who looked nearly as died as he did, but he neither of them commented on the others appearance. jim was sure he’d seen worse.

he sneaks back into the house, desperately trying to not wake luca who’s sleeping soundly in his room down the hall. while also thinking of you, just in case you had somehow managed to fall asleep before he mad it back home with all your goodies. however, he finds you seated up right, eyes glued to the tv as it plays re-runs of full house with the volume turned the lowest it can go so you can still hear everything, but not wake luca.

“hey, babe. got your stuff.” he utters as he enters the bedroom, closing the door tightly behind him before dumping the contents onto the bedspread, “i got you something for the fever and cough, and some snacks in case you’re hungry.” you make a hum of appreciation, grabbing the two medications and quickly popping them open.

you read over the back labels, before pouring out the correct amount for your cough medication, and then a pill for the fever. jim disappears for a moment, grabbing a glass of water from the bathroom to make it easier for you to wash the medication down.

he watches as you make a face, the horrible cherry flavor of the cough syrup nearly making you gag as jim chuckles softly, “i thought the cherry was better than the grape...”

you shake your head, “no, both are just as horrible. but i’d take the cherry shit over the stuff that tastes like jager.” you make another face, before quickly chugging some water to wash the rest of the medication off your tongue. then the fever pill goes down and you plop back against your pillows, “i hate being sick.”

jim nods, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead before picking the medication up and dropping it onto your bedside table, “yeah, least it’s something pretty simple to deal with. you’ll be back up and running in a few days.” he mutters, climbing into bed with you before snuggling into his pillow, “if you need something, just wake me up.” you nod and settle in, pulling the blankets up to your chest before dosing off yourself. 

the next morning, jim is getting ready for work. his eyes glancing over at you as you take another round of your medication for the morning, and still getting a slight kick out of seeing your face scrunch up after taking the cough syrup, “you never get use to it, huh?” he smiles, pressing another kiss to your forehead. already happy to see the your fever has started to come down.

“it’s always been nasty. if i hated it as a kid, what makes you think i’m gonna like it as an adult?” jim chuckles, pushing a plate of toast and eggs in front of you with a smile, “eat something. it’ll help you get better.”

“i’m gonna head out to work, you need anything, just call me. i’ll bring it home after call.” he offers, noting your hesitant smile as you look up at him shyly, “so, you’ll bring home some indian food from that place we like?” 

“yeah, i can do that. just text me if you want anything outside our normal order, and i’ll bring it home.” he smiles, watching your eyes shine brightly before a final kiss is dropped to your hairline and he bids his goodbyes.

“that didn’t take any convincing.” luca comments from his truck, smiling at his friend as jim shakes his head, “i would do just about anything for her. don’t act like you wouldn’t if that was your girl in there.” jim comments back, before tugging on his helmet. yeah, he’d do just about anything for you.

blog navigation ⇢ [ swat masterlist ]

[sonianvmd]

thh characters with a crush on you

warnings: none, maybe some swearing but otherwise nothing major

oH and mentions of murder and death but this is danganronpa so im going to assume u expected as much

a/n: so we kickin this blog off with a bang, writing for LITERALLY THE ENTIRE TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOC CAST LMFAOAOAOAO (excluding hifumi, yasuhiro, and the two despairs doe bc i’ve already made that clear)

also some character’s sections are shorter than others im sorry i just couldnt think of as many bullet points for them *tiktok cry emoji*

edit: I FORGOT CELSESTE FU K SORRY

spoilers under the cut!!

★ 彡 ★ ミ ★ 彡 ★ ミ ★

makoto naegi

when he realizes he likes you, he doesn’t necessarily panic or anything, but he does get nervous

nervous around you, that is

y’all saw how he was with sayaka

if he says anything that might sound intimate then he’ll immediately rephrase it or reassure he didn’t mean anything by it

he really only does have good intentions but his wording just kinda flops sometimes

he appreciates how you listen to him and value what he says

you don't make him feel dumb or inferior compared to a bunch of ultimates with actual talents

he’ll muster up the courage to tell you eventually

let’s hope his luck comes through 😁

byakuya togami

now when THIS man realizes he likes you, he a bitch nigga bout it 😐

he can't believe he fell for a common plebeian such as you

but it was hard not to

the way you preferred to get to the point

the way you were aware of your situation and didn't sugarcoat how you felt about it, although you certainly were nicer with it than him

he's ruthless

anyways

you knew your priorities and spent no time trying to use your resources

he noticed how much you had in common; in you, he saw himself

and we all know how this mf feels about himself 😐

he’ll be quick to defend you in class trials

he won’t realize he’s doing it but he just subconsciously protects you

but just because he doesn't notice it, don't mean the rest of the class brushes past it as well

yeah they on his ass LMFAOO

kyoko kirigiri

kyoko is very good at keeping her composure so she won’t be very obvious

she’ll probably just hang around you more

she’ll also defend you in class trials, calmly

“oh, it couldn’t have been [name]. i remember seeing them in their dorm around the time the murder took place.”

hifumi probably finna say some dumb shit like “aye what was you doin in their dorm doe” but anyways

she finds you respectable

if you have anything to contribute, she’ll let you take the floor

when she tells you, she’s very composed, but also very indirect LMFAO

she’s not too sure on how to express her interest in you but maybe she’ll go about it like “well, [name], now we’ve made it here, would you like to step back into the world with me?” or somethin else along those lines idk

take her hand

pls

toko fukawa

y’all know her whole “master togami” shtick

yeah so 😁😁😁😁

no but fr, toko ofc still has her borderline stalkerish 🧍🏾‍♀️ tendencies

she’ll often find herself staring at you, either in the library or in the morning meetings everyday at breakfast

but she isn’t as straight forward as she is with byakuya

i actually think she’d be mad shy and non confrontational

the whole thing she kept up with him ? yeah, never again

if you approach her first then she’ll be able to get a few words out but for most of the conversation, she’ll just nervously play with her braids

you’ll most likely put two and two together

unless ur a makoto kinnie bc then you’ll have to wait till someone else puts it in place for u but anyways

if you decide to approach her about it, you’ll kinda be backing her into a corner bc she’s just bad at deflecting things lmao

she’ll eventually confess (begrudgingly but hey i mean its better than nothing)

expect much stuttering and a gesture like giving you a small gift

and not to be that writer that uses japanese terms in english writing but toko seems like a tsundere but not really if that makes sense?? so she’d probably shove it in your hands and if you try to say something then she’ll just try to play it off as not a big deal lol

calls u a baka 😍😍

aoi asahina

i know y’all all see how she is with sakura

yeah.

aoi is the kind of person who’d like to spend time with their crush rather than shy away from them

she values you and your friendship very much

bring her donuts

just trust me bring her donuts

she doesn’t really realize she’s into you like that for a while but believe me, she is, the whole time

and yeah i think she’d be nervous to tell you bc that’s just natural but ultimately she’d be cool about it

uh oh looks like we goin for a swim

sakura ogami

similar to kyoko, she’s very calm

despite her big and bad appearance, she really is a sweet girl

she cares for you and your well-being very much

will indeed go on x games mode for you

the way she tells you is very sincere and well spoken

kith her

naow

im sorry this is like the shortest one i couldn’t think of much for her 😔😔

leon kuwata

flirtatious ass mf

and he’s lightskin

so this just cannot go well

y’all know that bit where it’s like the guy yawns and stretches his arms up and then wraps one around your shoulder

yeah that’s literally him LMFAOO

he’s very confident

he was fairly well known with the ladies at his old school so you know he’s rhockin wit it ‼️

but

you feel.. different than usual ??

those girls were just lil flings n dates bc he was nice enough to accept their confessions and it boosted his ego anyway so it was a win win

but you

he was genuinely interested in you since he had saw you the first time

he didn’t just acknowledge your appearance

he learnt about your personality and your hobbies and what you liked and such, and he really cared and wanted to hear you talk about it all

he felt the need to really make an effort to show you how much he respected and had affections for you

he doesn't tell you in a grand way

probably just asks you out to a movie or somethin

he's chillin

mondo owada

you know

for being the biggest, baddest, most respected biker gang leader

or just for being in a biker gang period

mondo’s a huge softie lol

yeah he gets violent but he’s a sweet guy who cares about and is loyal to his friends

so mfs need to be nice to you

or they gettin whooped

when he decides it’s time to tell you how he feels, he thinks over his words and he’s all confident there’s no way you’d reject him but then he sees you in the halls and goes 🧍🏾 LMFAOOO

he’ll push through but it’s like he’ll walk up to you and look away from you because he refuses eye contact and just go

“so y/n, would you wanna.. tch.. come to a drive-in movie with me or somethin’?... dumbass.”

real smooth mondo i think you got em good job

please tease him LMFAOO it’d be so funny

he’d probably yell but you can tell he’s not mad so you just keep going with it

but once you’re done tormenting him, you do agree to the movie, don’t worry 🙏🏾

also mondo would call his s/o doll

that is all

chihiro fujisaki

my fav dude in a dress <3

chihiro would be quite shy, but that’s just how he is tbh so no surprise there

he’s very kind so he’d check up on you often just to see how you are

he cares about you v much

the way he confesses is one that consists of a red face as he offers you a box of candy or something similar

and he’d feel honored that you reciprocate his feelings

he’d be very scared to tell you his secret but once he does, he’s delighted to hear it doesn’t make any difference to you

he doesn’t know how he got so lucky with you

not only because woooo they like me back but also because you like him despite,, well everything about him LMFAOO

sweet lil boy

i’d feel like he’d talk about you to alter ego a lot

and when u meet the program for the first time, he’s like “oh! you must be [name]! master’s told me all about you :)”

sobbing i miss him

kiyotaka ishimaru

okay here’s the thing

if taka were to like someone

i can’t tell whether he’d be more strict because he doesn’t want them to get in trouble (and also so it would hopefully divert any suspicion that he DOES like you since he treats you the same as everyone else, only more)

or if he’d hold back more because he favors them LMFAOO

so imma write a lil bit for both

in the case that he was even stricter:

he’d prefer to be around you because he believes the best way he can make sure you stay out of trouble is to make sure you don’t get into any in the first place

of course it’s impossible to monitor you every second of every day but he does his best to make sure you’re doing well

if he sees you do anything out of line, he’s shutting that shit down IMMEDIATELY

but in the case he let up:

he’d still lecture you but noticeably less than the other students

if your feet were resting on top of a desk, he’d ask you to move them and then leave you alone rather than yell at you and forcibly move them himself

if you notice his behavior towards you in comparison to the other students do not tease him about it he will go as red as his eyes /hj

either way he’s confessing to you with a polite but exaggerated bow while holding out a well thought out letter with both hands

sayaka maizono

she will tell you

idk why but i feel like she’d be straight up lol

she’d make sure she’s sincere

she is the ultimate pop idol and all so she wants to make sure you know that she really does like you and isn’t playing a sick joke on you or anything

ok bc

while i do think she’d tell you

i’d feel like she’d be a little indirect just to see how you feel

like she’d give you a free ticket to one of her upcoming concerts with a kind smile

and naturally, you're like :o

and of course you come to support her

and seeing you smile at her from the crowd and cheer her on was the encouragement she needed to push her to ask you out

for real this time

she asks if you wanna come to a concert with her and ur like “oh yeah i love ur shows!!” bc ur dumb and then she’s like “no i mean.. for another artist” and eventually it hits you that she’s asking you out and ur like “oH YEAH YEAH SURE THAT SOUNDS GREAT YEAH OK” LMFAOO

———

i really hope that this is good LMFAOO this is my first time writing for dr so 😃👍🏾

fun fact i finished toko’s section first and taka’s last 😁😁

and i’d like to thank @mius-imagination @bloodygir n the rest of the discord for helping me figure some of these characters out *simultaneously whips and nae naes*

bye ive been working on this for like weeks this took forever

———

edit: here’s a deleted section bc i kept blanking for this character 😍

[juusauce]

The Day I Met You Ft. Oikawa Tooru

HISTORICAL AU

Disclaimer:

This is a fictional story. Names, characters, locations, and incidents are all made up by the author and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The mentioned characters are not mine, credits to Furudate Haruichi.

Oikawa was moving along the crowded street as the lights and music were dancing together. He holds onto the crumpled piece of paper that announces his impending conscription before the month ends. Because of his service in the military, his dream of becoming an engineer was destroyed since the war won't guarantee survival. As he busied himself looking for something, someone attracted his eye. He noticed a pretty girl wearing a red floral dress and a red ribbon as a headband. He assumed she was with her friends because she was happy and playing the piano. He was amazed by her music and...perhaps her beauty. She looked harmless, carefree, and gentle. When their eyes met, he felt a sudden unfamiliar emotion. He gulped. His heart began to beat faster when she gave him a timid smile.

He was sleepy when he arrived at the firm where he was working as an apprentice. He had a hard time falling asleep as he had been thinking about her the entire night. His head almost fell on the counter, but he suddenly woke up when he heard a lovely voice. He was startled by her unexpected appearance, which caused his eyes to widen. He was too nervous to speak, his palms were sweating, and he couldn't even smile. His heart raced when he saw her sweetest smile again.

Throughout the week, he couldn't take his smile off his lips. He believed that was their final encounter, but perhaps heaven wanted them to run into each other once more. They met in a dancing hall. He watched her playing the piano. He couldn't believe he had been in love with her from the moment he saw her. He plucked up the courage to ask her to dance. She laughed when she noticed his trembling hands. Shame caused heat to spread on his cheeks. He was fixated on her the entire time they were dancing. He thought he was the luckiest boy in the hall since he was dancing with the most attractive girl that night.

He wasn't expecting love to show up at the worst possible time. He would get ready for himself after this evening, as he would be sent into a perilous and unfamiliar place. Fear crept inside him, afraid to die. He had never before experienced fear until that moment. He was back in his reverie as she patted his shoulder. She asked him what his problem was since he looked so gloomy after they danced.

As the day goes by, the day of his conscription is drawing near. He was so uneasy and unsure of what would happen to him after being sent there. He missed her touch and her warmth. He wished he could stay by her side, but he had to go to the battleground.

He came to a halt when he heard someone sobbing. His eyes widen when he saw her crying in the middle of the street. It was a cold evening in December and the ground was covered with snow. She nearly slipped, but he caught her. When their gazes met, a flush spread across his cheeks, and his heart raced.

"Why you didn't tell me about the conscription?" She said sullenly. He looked away before telling her the reason.

"It has nothing to do with you-"

"Nothing to do with me?" Tears flowed from her eyes. She looked so mad. Mad at him. "How can you say that? Am I not important to you?"

"You are important to me," she whispered, too enough to hear.

His lips parted. He couldn't utter a word. He was surprised by what she said.

She tip-toed and kissed his cheek. The sudden touch of her lips made his heart race.

"By any chance, do you..," he looked into her eyes. "Do you like me?" he whispered.

He locked his gaze on hers. Their faces were about an inch apart. He was tempted to kiss her, but as he leaned closer, someone cleared their throat.

"Kids, stop kissing in public."

The flush over her cheeks was just too noticeable. He cleared his throat as they stepped back. They were filled with embarrassment. They continue to avoid eye contact and even physical contact.

She wanted to say good night to him, but the atmosphere was still too embarrassing. She bit her lower lip as she looked at him, but when their gazes met, she swiftly diverted her gaze.

He sighed, breaking the silence between them.

"I think,..." He wasn't sure what to say for he didn't want the night to end and he wished to spend more time with her. He'd probably miss her after this.

"I...I need to say good night,..my lady."

Part 2

Edited Note: Hello! I'm done with the part 2. Yay! Anyway, this was inspired by Julie Berry's Lovely War. Because this is a historical au, I have made some changes. I believe people in the nineteenth century were conservative, hence NO KISSES ON THE LIPS IN PUBLIC. Thank you for reading!

Ⓒjuusauce - do not copy, paste, or translate my works anywhere.