#so here it is now! pls enjoy

[mossmurdock]

forbidden fruit (g.suguru)

suguru used to share grapefruit with you after class.

it was a simple thing. you both would wait for at the same bus stop, him catching the first and you catching the second. one day your stomach happened to growl especially loudly and the rest was history.

he was popular enough to get at least a few gifted to him during the months where they were ripest, maybe from different people or maybe not. the details never mattered all that much to you whenever he offered you half of one.

the smell of april showers always mixed in with the aroma of the peels, zesting the air with citrus.

he always peeled them so delicately, even targeting the patchy white pith that latched itself to the meat of the fatty fruit. he said he wasn’t a fan of the texture. that the extra time it took to scratch and strip the extra skin off was worth it.

you never had the patience for it. it might have been why he offered to peel them so often. he made them look and feel like such a gentle fruit.

“i used to be able to eat these whole all on my own as a kid,” he said one afternoon. “now, if i eat more than half my stomach gets upset.”

he splits the fruit in two, his thumbs digging, forcing juice to pool into the crevices of his fingers and lines of his palms. a pool of it stains the laps of your uniforms by the time suguru’s bus arrives. he leaves you with the corners of your lips tangy and licked wet.

"i used to mistake them for oranges," you included internally.

it felt embarrassing to say aloud. the words would have left your mouth stupidly as each memory of him expertly dodging your friendly questions tainted the skin of your fingertips. keeping you at an arm's length, stretching just close enough to offer you something.

he would have laughed. you might have smiled naively, glancing down to the remaining slice pinched between your stained pointer and thumb before popping it into your mouth.

you huffed a breath out of your nose sharply, cheeks sapped by his contagious inclusivity. he had a way of making you feel part of something greater, even if it were for just a few moments at a time.

for weeks you watched him: the way he licked juice off his plump lips, the way he styled his hair, the way his legs spread whenever he sat down, and how he always perched his backpack on his lap; you felt included to view all these little antics.

you wondered if—during all that time—he noticed things about you too.

the last time the two of you share fruit is anticlimactic. your guard is down. you don't even find out that he'll be gone until the new school year starts and a week of you alone at that bench passes.

you suck at the nectar on your hands messily, turning your head towards the road after hearing the sound of tires rolling through gravel.

the last thing you remember is seeing the back of his head. your eyes drifting to the closed fist at his side, a grapefruit peel peeking out of the crevice of his palm.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.

[luuxxart]

almost forgot to post my comic for the @onedayakeshuake here !!!!

leftover sales end Sept. 30th, so if you want to hold our old man art in your hands, grab your copies today!!!

[vagabond-umlaut]

GOING ON A PERMANENT HIATUS. TYSM EVERYONE FOR THE LOVE & SUPPORT U HV GIVEN ME SO FAR 🥰🥰🥰

[sysig]

The most fun you can have, barring the pain and torture (Patreon)

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 17

continuation of byakuya's no good very bad worst shit ass day of his life (so far)(!!!)

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

this chapter went a little different from how i originally planned bc I was going to make byakuya much more stupid. but. he needs to fly off the handle several times later so. we can't let loose all at once

to be very fair to makoto he did not want to do that. and yet. here we are

the king of kings!! @digitaldollsworld

Content warning tags: ableist language from various characters, Byakuya's panic spiral, mild self-harm reference

< previous - from start - next >

Time seems to grind to a halt. His breath is still caught in his throat, halfway through a relieved sigh as he had been waiting - expecting - for Makoto to help him. To pull up some vague, hidden piece of evidence to clear him of any suspicion, to cleverly point out some irrefutable proof that had previously lay unseen.

But instead - his heartbeats feel too heavy. His breathing feels too light, deprived of any real oxygen. His head pounds in the same way it did when he was struck earlier, with a dull, pulsing ring that washes out everything around him.

He prided himself, once, on being able to read a person’s intent. To judge just when and why they might choose to abandon him, to cross him, to try and use him for their own intents. For that reason, he supposes, is why this sickly, sticky feeling of dread is so new to him. He’s never known real betrayal before.

His eyes dart around the room, but the others don’t seem to believe Makoto just yet. Even Owada seems taken aback, stock still and quiet. Only Kirigiri seems unsurprised - or maybe, he was only imagining it, the tranquil quality of her silence. As if she were merely observing it all, far out of their reach.

“Seriously??” Syo’s voice is a grating jeer. “You’re telling me this whole time he had no idea what I looked like? No wonder he didn’t fall for me at first sight!”

“I…don’t think that’s the reason why,” Hagakure says, though he seems utterly bewildered. “But, that can’t be right, right? I’ve seen him reading loads of times. And he practically lives in the library, y’know?”

“Yeah, and he can do things just fine for himself.” Asahina says in agreement. “I mean, he does his own laundry and stuff, and he knows this place way better than me at least. I didn’t even know where the A/V room was during the first motive, I just sorta followed him.”

“Yes, this is sort of…” For the first time, Celeste sounds genuinely surprised, her usually unphased demeanor wavering, her accent slipping for a moment. “Ahem. While I did note that he sometimes seemed a bit…eccentric, so to speak, nothing of his actions suggested that he was impaired.”

Their skepticism is a small relief. He nods jerkily, unable to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to verbalize his agreement. But it’s a small, pathetic movement that goes unnoticed, hardly amounting to anything in this large courtroom.

And their disbelief only goes so far. Ogami speaks up now, for the first time since the trial began, her low voice immediately silencing the whispers.

“I performed a concussion test on him earlier,” She says, gruffly. “As Kyoko had asked me to. He was lucid when answering my questions, and he didn’t seem to exhibit any symptoms that couldn’t be attributed to other reasons.” There’s a slight creak of wood, as she shifts her weight on the stand. “However, I did notice that his pupils were…strange.”

“My- what?” He sputters now, too suddenly, too loudly. He reaches up to touch slightly-trembling fingers to a closed eye, feeling the smooth bump of the cornea twitching beneath the thin skin of his eyelid as if he might be able to identify the damage that way. Why hadn’t she mentioned this earlier? Why bring it up now? “What do you mean, ‘strange’?!”

There’s a slight, panicked edge to his voice that he hopes no one catches, but this was the first time he heard that there could be physical evidence to his affliction. “It was a bit hard to test without the proper tools, but I noticed that they do not react much to changes in light.” Ogami explains. “The shape is also slightly…off. If I had to describe it, I would say that there is…a warping around the edges.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?!”

“I assumed it was either due to the head injury, or, it was genetic.” There’s an apologetic note to her words. “Given your usual behavior, I…didn’t think it was important.”

Not important. As if she could know what was important here.

“I. Am not. Blind.” He snarls stiffly. “Obviously, I have never taken a close enough look at my own pupils to notice that deformation, but it has never affected my daily life. I am not disabled, nor have I ever been.”

“I find it hard to believe that you have never been aware of it.” Kyoko remarks, tone clipped. “I can’t imagine someone of your status being ignorant of anything concerning your physical health.”

“Then you can rest easy knowing that I am perfectly healthy.” He snaps back, venom flying off his words.

Distantly, he knows that he is digging a pit for himself. That admitting to this would help clear him of any suspicion at all. But he doesn’t care; he would rather die than suffer such indignity. That was what he’s always known, taught by his butler, and then reinforced by all his surroundings afterwards, his siblings, his father - better to perish and let your enemies cry with relief and count themselves lucky, than let them mock you as you dig your own grave.

“You should just admit it already. You are drawing this out to be unnecessarily long, or would you rather doom us all?”

“I don’t see why I should cooperate with someone who has been making mindless accusations at me all this while.”

There’s a tense, snappish tension between him and Kirigiri. A livewire current. A piece of elastic stretched taut. He glares, and to him, her blurred form looks like that of a reared snake.

“Um…” Asahina speaks up, her hand tentatively raised. “If Byakuya’s really blind, can’t we just test it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I mean! Not saying that you are blind, or anything,” She says this quickly, carefully, like soothing a spooked horse. “But, we’re not going to get anywhere if you two just keep arguing back and forth, and it’ll be really quick! Like, Sakura, can you hold up a few fingers?” She complies silently, one arm remaining crossed across her chest, the other raised to her side. “How many is she holding up?”

He tries not to squint, but he has no idea. Two? Three? It's nothing more that a blurred, brown shape. “You can’t be serious.” He almost laughs, but the sound he makes is derisive and bitter.

“Y-yes, this is-! Unfair!” Now it’s Yamada, speaking up again. “In case no one else has noticed, Mister Togami is lacking his spectacles! Asking such a thing of him…it’s akin to bullying!”

He’s oddly assertive about this, and Byakuya watches as he pushes his own glasses a little higher. For some reason, being considered something of an equal by Yamada irritates him further. “Shut up.” Who asked for his help.

“Yes, be still please,” Celeste sighs dismissively. “We are playing a game with our lives. This is hardly the time to be discussing moralistic issues.” There’s a slight metallic tap as she raps her silver finger guards against her rings. “But you do make a point. Byakuya does not have his glasses at the moment. It would be difficult to try and confirm anything without them.”

Thank goodness for those with common sense. He doesn’t look to his side, where she was standing, but he swears that he can see her eyes glancing at him, the unnatural red of her pupils bright on her pale face. “Yes,” he agrees, seizing upon it. “And they were broken earlier, thanks to Owada. Nearsightedness runs on my mother’s side, and the former Togami head was farsighted. I will admit that much, is that what you wanted? Kyoko?”

He’s rambling. He’s aware of it. But there are a few nods exchanged, and Asahina scratches at the back of her head awkwardly, as if embarrassed. Kirigiri, however, is still unmoved.

“No. When I say you are blind, I do not mean without your glasses. Or there wouldn’t have been a point in bringing it up in the first place.” Kirigiri shifts her weight slightly, the sway of her stance accompanied by the creak of wood. “Even without your glasses, you cannot do tasks such as reading. I imagine you’ve managed everything else by means of careful practice, but this is the one thing you can’t manage on your own.”

“Hey, Kyoko-” Makoto looks nervous, unsure whether to face him or her. “That-”

“And how do you plan to prove this?” Byakuya snarls. He feels a small flare of triumph, even despite everything, the looming threat of death. “As we found before, I don’t have my glasses. Did you happen to pick those up as well? Did you repair them for me while you were at it?”

Instead of offering a retort, or any sort of reply, she sighs. A soft, tired sound.

“Makoto.” She isn’t facing the other boy, but her tone is firm as she addresses him, and a little exasperated. She doesn’t say anything more, but Makoto seems to understand, and his hands drop to his sides.

“There is a way to prove it.” His voice is quiet. Quiet, and…sad, somehow. Defeated. “Byakuya…please show us your handbook.”

The realization sets in slowly. He’s already been betrayed by Makoto twice now, but still, he finds himself stunned, slack-jawed. This one was the worst by far - not only was he actively helping Kirigiri, he was betraying Chihiro as well, risking revealing everything to that accursed bear. And after all the lengths Byakuya had gone through to protect this secret.

“What are you saying,” He says, and his voice has a humiliating tremor that matches how his hands shake, clutching at the rail. Surely, he’s heard wrong. Surely, Makoto would correct himself, take it back-

“Your handbook. Chihiro, he…he put a program on it that lets you be able to do stuff like tell the time. It also reads stuff aloud. And he did it after the motives got revealed, that night when Celeste saw you guys leaving the bathhouse.” He sounds so somber, so sad and grieving. He won’t meet Byakuya’s eyes. “He did it in exchange for you teaching him how to be strong, and self-confident - which you did, by telling him to go around talking to everyone else today.”

Without really thinking about it, his hand goes to his inner jacket pocket, where his handbook sits. His fingers close around the little device, the hard edges of plastic and metal pressing into the creases of his palm. He feels a little like he’s been shot.

But he doesn’t bring it out. He glares instead, furiously, hatefully, at the boy standing just meters away. He - and Kirigiri too, most likely, Byakuya suspected that Makoto had already revealed everything that that woman - knew perfectly well the importance of Alter Ego, and why it could not, under any circumstances, be revealed. And they knew Byakuya was aware of this too, and they were holding this fact hostage, over his head.

(I could, some sore, beaten part of him thinks with poisonous intent, try and claim responsibility for Chihiro’s murder. I could say that they’re wrong. That I lured Chihiro to the bathhouse with the intent of making him less wary, easier to isolate. That he was so weak and trusting and stupid that killing him was a simple manner. That I mimicked Syo’s modus operandi to throw suspicion off of me.)

The mere thought was shameful, but it was his pride, wounded and bitter, that was seriously considering it, if only for some semblance of control. The barest reassurance that he had any real weight at all in this trial. And all he would need to do is open his mouth and say the words.

But instead, he bites down on his inner cheek, hard enough for blood to trickle out the corner of his mouth, hard enough for the pain to rival the buzzing in his temples. And tightens his grip momentarily, just enough to feel the faint, humming warmth of the handbook against his sweating palm, and exhales slowly.

“...Fine. Fine.” He spits, angry, defeated, exhausted. He’s sick of this. He just wants it to be over. “Yes. I’m blind. I have been so since we first woke up in this school. Are you happy now?”

Makoto looks down, his face shadowed by his hair. Kirigiri tilts her head slightly, a motion that’s not quite a nod but more of a bow.

“Wait, so then-” Asahina’s voice, confused and a little hesitant, pipes up. “If you’ve been…y’know, this whole time, but only after we got to this school…does that mean the Mastermind did this to you, somehow?”

“That’s what I would like to know, myself.” He turns to look at Monokuma, and finds the bear lounging across its throne, a bucket of popcorn resting precariously on the armrest. The repugnant toy giggles, and swings itself upright, spilling a handful of white puffs all over.

“Gosh, I wonder?” The thing taps at its chin, voice taking on a wondering tone. “Of course, I want this game to be fair and give you all a level playing field. I believe in equality after all! …Though this has made for so many entertaining developments, so…I figured I’d leave it as is. Besides, you’ve adapted quite well, haven’t you Mister Togami?” It cackles, paws clutching at its belly. “GIven how well you did hiding it from everyone, I think it’s fine if we leave it like this, don’t you think?”

He wants to cross the courtroom and throttle the stupid thing this instant. All he can do is glare murderously, lips twisted into a snarl.

There’s a sharp clap that has most people jumping. The source of the sound is Kirigiri, whose hands are raised, and pressed together. “Let’s move on.” Her voice is firm, with no room for arguing. “All we’ve done so far is clear one person’s innocence. We still need to identify the real killer.”

And that was it. The most disgusting moment of his life, over just like that, ended by her words. He knows that there’s bound to be some kind of punishment in store for those who interrupt trials, but he briefly wonders if he can get his hands around her neck before Monokuma can react.

Owada jerks at Kirigiri’s words, startled out of his own stunned silence. “W-wait,” He sounds panicked now, and of course he would be. His scapegoat is gone. “Then, if it’s not Byakuya, then who…?”

“Let’s consider what we know. Given how it’s not clear where the murder took place, it would have to be someone who had access to cleaning supplies or water, and has no alibi that can be verified when the murder occurred. For the most part, everyone here has an alibi that can be supported by at least one other person, but there are some that do not.” Kirigiri lists these calmly, and Byakuya imagines her cold gaze, flitting between each person in the room. “Mondo. Do you care to explain what you were doing prior to the body’s discovery?”

The effect is immediate. The other boy rears up, instantly furious. “The fuck are you trying to say? That I’m a murderer?!” He thunders. “Like I said earlier, I was taking care of my bro. You know that. Everyone knows that!”

“As you said earlier, Taka is currently compromised. He can’t give a testimony.” She shoots back without hesitation. “Your alibi is flawed.”

“Yeah? Well - well so’s yours!” He sputters. “Like- Syo might’ve been the one to find you in the bathroom, but that was just before Chihiro was found. Toko can’t say that you weren’t there the whole time, a-and even if you were, maybe the bathroom was where Chihiro died anyways!”

Owada may be stupid, but credit where credit was due, he was surprisingly quick to retort and pick at Kirigiri’s excuse. “I could not have cleaned up a murder scene in the bathroom so spotlessly in the time between Chihiro’s last sighting and the body discovery. As Makoto described earlier, the sinks of the bathroom were all dry-”

“There was that sheet, you could’ve used that before smashing Chihiro’s head over it. And there’s water in the toilets, right? And the girl’s bathroom was right next door!”

“...I’ll commend you for recognizing my perseverance. But I did not kill Chihiro.” She shakes her head. “If the only thing that will clear me is secondhand support to my alibi, then the only thing that needs to be done is to ask a witness. Toko?”

And she addresses Syo now, who just cocks her head for a moment, and shrugs. “I keep sayin’ to you guys, it’s lights out up there. There’s no telling when she’ll be back!”

Byakuya has had enough.

“Toko,” He says first, his voice low and hissing. Then, louder, building into a shout: “TOKO. Come out, NOW!”

“I don’t think it works like tha-” Syo’s words are cut off suddenly, and she collapses where she stands, like a puppet with her strings cut.

< previous - from start - next >

[morathicain]

Haterant- Callout post - Hello:

So apparently there are SandRay fans on twitter (haven't seen the take here, thank the gods) who hate the RayMew kiss. Not because Mew was manipulating and using Ray to hurt Top and without having feelings for him while both were on drugs and drunk, which Ray had started, BUT because they perceive both as bottoms and they think two bottoms kissing each other is BAD and YIKES and it would have been better if Top and Sand kissed WHICH WOULDN'T EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE PLOTWISE YOU DIPSHITS!

Fans of the ship really out there vomiting up the worst of takes although we fought for years to move on from the Top/Bottom take (and Jojo himself has bludgeoned the damn take in his shows).

Ngl but those fans are more toxic than any of the characters on the show and have proven with this that they don't care for the plot or the characters but only their faves and ships (oh, also apparently they say SandRay are not popular? What?????)! It's truly sad how little reading comprehension is in the last braincell of some of them and how much disrespect for an intriguing story and the characters' background stories and development.

Please, just stop watching the show, nuances are wasted on you, thank you.

(plus this might just NOT be your kind of show - and that's okay)

(this also includes the ones who demand more sweet SandRay scenes and are outraged that they fuck up and that they're such a mess and no soulmates - we were never promised a sweet rom com but exactly the toxic, complicated mess we're getting now - live with it and stop watching! it's okay if it's not your kind of show - there's no need to watch just because your faves are in it)

[lgbtkendricks]

chapter 1 and 2 of 'with those holiday greetings (and gay happy meetings)' on ao3 now !!

fake-dating at christmas, mitchsen

Beca Mitchell was an aspiring music producer. Because of that, she had been involved in extracurriculars relating to music for the majority of her life. She’d been in choir as a kid (and made sure her mother burned all the tapes). In high school she took every music-related class they had to offer, a job at the record store and saved up for all of her equipment. In college she worked at a radio station, DJed on the side and…joined an acapella group…but made said group better with her arrangements, a useful honing of her skills for future producer jobs. She made songs – sort of. She thought her mixes were her songs, anyway. The point was, Beca Mitchell lived and breathed music. All genres, all decades, all artists. A song was a song and she would treat each one with as much respect as the last. Beca still had yet to meet someone who could match her repertoire in their knowledge of music. Granted, she hadn’t yet met Beyonce, who she imagined was one of the few who could usurp her. She knew a lot about music and production, and she wasn’t afraid to be annoying about it. It was all she cared about and all she wanted people to know her for.

Through all that, Beca couldn’t deny that Aubrey Posen’s laugh was the most melodic thing she had ever heard.

She laughed…in a mixed belt. It was a perfect blend of her chest voice and her head voice, yet still high and pure and sweet and bouncy. Beca had never in her life adored someone this much, and it terrified her a little, but it was also far too fun to ignore. Watching Aubrey giggle her way through Blame It On The Alcohol, watching her comment on how accurate the drunk glee kids were to her own high school experiences, watching her agree with Rachel Berry’s understanding of alcohol tasting like pink, watching her pause and rewind several times to cackle at Puck, Quinn and Lauren in the background – it was everything to Beca. Not only was her heart filling every time Aubrey so much as smiled, but the knowledge that Beca was the one who was keeping her from the nervous wreck she had become pre-flight was doing something to her that the brunette wasn’t ready to unpack. It was pretty beautiful, the way just watching glee together could distract Aubrey entirely from her very real and valid fear of flying. And Beca knew they were annoying the other passengers on the flight. Even the flight attendants were oscillating between smiling at the fun the two were having and clenching their jaws each time Aubrey completely missed their offerings.

Beca wanted nothing more than to watch Heather Morris completely embody Ke$ha in their whole school performance, but being the hyperaware, Aubrey-obsessed embarrassment that she was, she couldn’t ignore the very real dangers of watching that particular performance. She reached forward and pushed down on the spacebar on her laptop. Aubrey looked at her immediately, cocking her head in confusion.

Beca stared back at her expectantly. When Aubrey still stared just as expectantly, Beca smiled a little wryly.

“You sure you wanna watch this part?”

Aubrey raised her brows. “Why wouldn’t I want to watch this part?”

“It’s…the part.”

“Which part??”

The younger girl couldn’t believe she had to spell it out. “The part that would put your ICCA finals of junior year to shame.”

A hand reached out and whacked her on the shoulder, making Beca laugh whilst Aubrey flushed red. “Press play, Beca.”

“I’m serious!” Beca said honestly. “Aubrey, somehow I don’t think that watching a bunch of drunk kids throw up mid-performance is gonna be conducive to you of all people on a plane. Watch it if you want but don’t come crying to me if we feel any turbulence.”

The eye roll Aubrey gave her could have put her own to shame. “I’ve taken anti-nausea tablets, Beca, I’m not stupid.”

“Didn’t say you were, and those don’t always work.” Beca argued back.

“I cannot believe you’re policing a glee episode right now.”

“I cannot believe you’re not taking precautions when you were the one who said she didn’t like flying.”

“Because it’s a death trap, not because of being sick!”

The middle-aged woman sitting in front of them turned round in her seat to face them. Both Beca and Aubrey expected her to tell them to shut up, but instead she smiled sweetly.

Her voice was teasing. “You two are the splitting image of my daughter and her wife. You argue just like they do.”

Both women went bright red. Beca opened her mouth to tell her they weren’t together, but nothing came out.

read the rest on ao3 :o

[redrocketpanda]

I'm doing a lot of processing at the moment and turns out that Atsumu has become a very dear blorbo for dumping all of my feelings & processing into (they don't call me atsumucore for nothin')

I've written exactly two scenes for this in my phone notes app and I'm not sure if it'll ever become a fully realised fic, but boy... do I need to hear the things that are being said to Atsumu right now. And so I'm writing these scenes for myself, but I think maybe they'll resonate with a lot of the other broken trauma babies out there too

[crossedwiress]

happy birthday calum!! <3

[milflewis]

do you think writers get enough credit and notes and stuff on here?

on tumblr dot com? lol nearly died laffin there thank u

[kaeyachi]

gonna talk about kaveh thru the tags in case people dont wanna get spoiled

[akkivee]

OTOME IS A STEAMPUNK GOTH I UNDERSTAND NOW

[big-tees-and-short-skirts]

ah, so the misophonia is part of the sensory processing disorder + etc. of course.

[gio-cosmo]

I’m taking some community college courses soon and istg if someone doesn’t see the fandom related stickers on my laptop and immediately become my lifelong bff I’m dropping all classes idgaf

[majesticmagics]

I was tagged by @transactinides but the original op disabled reblogs, so:

rules: shuffle your On Repeat liked songs playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people ✨

Gymnopédie No. 1 - Erik Satie

WHAT YOU GONNA DO??? - Bastille, Graham Coxon

Sunlight - Hozier

Life Will Change - Lyn (Persona 5 OST)

Adore - Free the Robots

Fighting Trousers - Professor Elemental

Siren - Kailee Morgue

Vampire Money - My Chemical Romance

BULLY IN THE ALLEY - Kimber's Men

Woe To the People of Order - The Shiny Snivy

@rinmession @scolek @v4mp123 @aguahouse @kanameows @capadipdap @morphogenetic-velvet @dontsteponthatfish @nacisses @scin7illa