#about: katsumi.

[killsaki]

katsumi gets a bit.. too wrapped up in you. he’s not one to care for love, and it’s easy enough for him to avoid it with an attitude like his. but then you come along, and your one night stands quickly turn into regular hook ups—ones that he lets you initiate. ones that he cancels other plans for, ones that turn into sleepovers when he insists it’s too late for you to be driving home. there’s nights you come over and eat with him, go out on business errands with him, always ending up in his bed, wrapped around him until the sun comes up. it’s not until the day he kisses you goodbye for the first time, telling you to text him when you make it home that it hits him. as soon as his door lock clicks, he’s got the most troubled look on his face, blinking at the white paint as if it’ll explain to him just what the hell you’ve done to him.

[theside-b]

episode 09: I'll be by your side no matter what — a kiss of victory

LOVE IS A POISON (2024) 「毒恋～毒もすぎれば恋となる～」

[t-u-i-t-c]

KATSUMI HYODO as Haruto Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (2024) | 01x01

+bonus

[owletstarlet]

patron saint of the lost causes (1/2)

“You can stop looking at him like that.” Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind. Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. “Like you broke his best friend."

(For @goodlucktai. You know what you did.

ao3 link | part 2

The thing is, Katsumi really doesn’t want to hear that he couldn’t have known what was going to happen. He knows. Knows because nobody will let him forget it. Knows from his 2AM search history the night after, curled up on his side on a guest futon in the Fujiwaras’ sitting room, feeling pinned down by the blue glow of his phone screen under the duvet.

Here’s how it happens.

***

It’s not that it’s uncomfortable, exactly, to be alone with Tanuma Kaname while walking the forty-five minute round trip between the temple and the combini through nothing but trees and rice paddies and still, thick summer air. Tanuma’s a decent guy. Quiet, thoughtful. And, as he’d made very clear within two minutes of Katsumi meeting him, fiercely loyal.

All good traits, really. But carrying a completely meaningless conversation with someone he honestly doesn’t know all that well doesn’t seem to be within his skill set. And that’s fine, it’s whatever.

It’s just that Katsumi’s starting to feel like a jackass when he’s the only one who’s talking.

School’s been out less than a week, and for some godforsaken reason he’s been talked into coming all the way out to Hitoyoshi by the group chat he’d been added to months ago, for some other godforsaken reason. The conversation had turned to potential vacation plans—the seaside, or a theme park. And it’s not like Katsumi would’ve said no; he’s got a whole month to fill here. But when Tanuma had either hedged or failed to respond altogether, the others had gotten it out of him pretty quickly that the better part of the month both before and after Obon would be full up with temple preparation and events. Apparently, even back when the temple had still stood vacant, some of the locals who had ancestors’ graves out in the crumbling cemetery there would still come out to tidy up as best they could and leave behind their flowers and incense and prayers. This is the second Obon since the temple had reopened, and not only were more visitors expected, but they’d need to be able to properly host them and provide an adequate place of worship.

From just that couple of messages, the others seemed to work out in short order just how overwhelmed he was. Which was news to Katsumi; sure, the guy wasn’t much of a texter, or talker, for that matter—but the messages had just seemed brief, concise, and apologetic.

But when they all show up on the temple doorstep a week later and Katsumi sees the way Tanuma’s shoulders sag with sheer relief, he knows the others were right.

Thus began a multi-day frenzy of scrubbing wood floors, polishing every metal surface within an inch of its life, weeding, dusting, and near-vicious refusals of Tanuma’s father’s offers to compensate them for their efforts. Katsumi certainly wasn’t against the concept of getting paid for busting his ass like this all day, but the man was drowning in paperwork and nonstop phone calls and visitations on top of whatever else it is that priests do all day, so he’d let it drop.

“He really does just radiate that dutiful son energy, huh,” Katsumi says to Kitamoto one day, leaning on a rake and blinking the sweat out of his eyes in the brutal 2PM heat, watching Tanuma pause to tug a crooked, bright red knit cap back into its place on the head of a tiny Jizo statue with endless care. He didn’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds kind of dickish coming out of his mouth anyhow. “Just looking at him is making me tired.”

Kitamoto hums. “That’s part of it,” he says, at length. “But this is his home, too.”

***

Katsumi feels sort of bad that Tanuma has to make this annoyingly long walk just because he himself doesn’t know how to get to the nearest Lawson. He’d lost a fierce, best-of-ten coin flip battle with Nishimura over whose turn it was to pick up snacks. It’s not that it’s a nightmarish distance away considering they’re on the bare outskirts of town, it’s just the late afternoon sun beating down on them that makes him ready to commit  homicide. And most of the way there between the wooded temple grounds and the main residential area is along a dusty gravel road between sunken rice fields, riddled with potholes and not especially worth it to navigate with a bike.

And Lawson isn’t even good.

Precisely none of this is Tanuma’s fault. This is an objective fact that he, of course, knows.

But they’ve only just left the store, and Katsumi ran out of random topics to fill up the stagnant air about ten minutes ago. The best he’s got at the moment, short of intermittent bitching about the heat, is his completely unfounded opinion of some new game he’d seen an ad for at the register which he never intends to play.

And Tanuma doesn’t look especially anxious, or at least not like he’s here under duress or anything—he was the one who volunteered to show Katsumi the way— but he doesn’t look especially comfortable, either. He’s already fished a bottle of tea out of the shopping bag, fiddling with the wrapper between sips and watching the dusty gravel crunch beneath their shoes. His responses aren’t rude, just a little off key, a subdued smattering of ‘oh’s and ‘hm’s and ‘I see’s that don’t always quite sync up with Katsumi’s words, a second too late or too early.  

Maybe it’s the truly ridiculous heat that’s getting to the guy. But he’s drinking his tea, and he’s wearing the same old wet towel he’s had slung around his neck all week, ojiisan style. He’d just re-soaked it again in the little sink outside the combini bathroom. It’s funny, Katsumi thinks, that Tanuma’s such a painfully self-conscious person, but then there’s these odd little things here and there that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him to be self-conscious about at all. He didn’t get out much as a kid, from what Katsumi’s heard. It’d be almost endearing if Katsumi was in any sort of mood to be endeared. As it stands it’s too fucking hot out here and now he kind of wants a stupid neck towel too.

Katsumi doesn’t want to make shit awkward, not when he’s staying in his house. But why had it been somehow easier to talk to Tanuma when they were being chased around some hell-mansion about to be murdered by some ghost-doll-things.

He’s not gonna take it personally. Even with his actual friends, where he seems most at ease, Katsumi’s seen him get fidgety, fingers worrying at a fraying shirt hem or drumming on his knee like he doesn’t always quite know how to physically handle too many eyes on him at once, or so many voices in the room. And more often than not, if one of the others picks up on this, he’s seen them seamlessly take the volume down a notch, give him some room to breathe, a little radius of calm. As though his comfort level is some sort of sixth sense for them all.

And Katsumi’s starting to wonder if running his mouth so that Tanuma wouldn’t have to was really the best course of action here. Maybe silence, comfortable or otherwise, would’ve spared them both.

Hell, too late now.

“…and it’s only available on the newest consoles, because of course it is, and even though Sakatani managed to get his hands on a copy and says he’ll let me play, apparently the graphics are kind of ass, so—uh. You good over there?”

Tanuma’s pinching the bridge of his nose, mouth twisting a little and pace falling a half-step behind Katsumi. He doesn’t really answer, just gives an absent diplomatic little hum like he has done for most of the conversation.

Katsumi stops walking.

“Hey.”

And Tanuma honest-to-god almost shuffles right past him, reaching up to rub at his temple now. He only stops when Katsumi snags the strap of the little freezer bag that he’d brought in a thoughtful yet desperate bid to keep the drinks cold and the tops of Nishimura’s chocorooms from all melting together inside the box. Tanuma blinks hard, like all the dust in the air has gunked up in his eyes.

Katsumi frowns. “Your head hurts?”

Tanuma just blinks again, nods once. The look on his face is strange. Vague, kind of.

Katsumi swears under his breath. “Hey,” he says again, louder, when Tanuma’s gaze slides away and out of focus. He grabs his shoulder, shakes him just enough to get his hazy attention back.

“Is this some youkai thing?” He tries to make the words slow and clear. “’Cause if we need to run…” Their chances wouldn’t be stellar, probably, out in the very-wide-open with no visible houses or people that Katsumi can see, but if they booked it they might make it back to the temple in 20 minutes. Barring being gutted in a rice paddy by invisible monsters.

Tanuma frowns, like he’s trying to grasp at the edges of his focus. “I don’t…”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t think so?” If there were time, Katsumi would feel like an ass for getting in his face and snapping at him. But he can feel Tanuma listing forward where he’s still gripping his shoulder, and he puts another hand under his elbow to steady him. “Should I call someone?”

Blink, blink. Apparently, that was too many questions at once. “…hot,” is what Tanuma finally settles on, in a small voice. Then his knees buckle.

Fuck.

Katsumi just barely manages to keep Tanuma from a total faceplant. He’s not so heavy, but it’s so abrupt that trying to catch him sends Katsumi falling back hard onto his own ass as Tanuma’s knees hit the ground.

Katsumi yelped as they went down, but Tanuma hasn’t made a sound. They’re both on their knees. Katsumi’s got him by the shoulders, and his head’s lolling forward, bumping into Katsumi’s chest.

And, shit. He was not lying. Katsumi can feel the heat rolling off him. He manages to maneuver a hand up to the side of his neck, and very nearly yanks it away, hissing through his teeth.

“Right, so,” he mutters. “Probably not youkai shit, then.”

Probably not doesn’t mean definitely not, though, and even as he’s trying to lower Tanuma fully onto the parched ground, curled onto his side, Katsumi’s fishing out his phone.

One bar. He’ll take it.

He hesitates for a second, torn between dialing Natsume, firing off a group message, or just calling an ambulance. He settles on the first—Natsume’s got the fastest mode of transport, which also happens to be an apparently giant and terrifying monster, if Sensei’s own words are to be believed, so that’s two birds one stone.

He hits Natsume’s name, fingers shaking.

And, dead air. Not even a dial tone.

He swears, checks the screen. Zero bars. A stupid little red x where the bars ought to be.

Goddamn backwoods towns and their goddamn backwoods reception.

“Hey.” He lays a hand on Tanuma’s shoulder. Katsumi can’t see his face, but his breaths are coming short and harsh. “I’m gonna borrow your phone.”

Less than one minute later and he’s given it up. Tanuma’s got the same network carrier, and an older phone to boot. It’s like there’s some fucked-up barricade made of yellowing rice fields, choking air and far-off cicada screeches between themselves and outside human contact.

Well then.

Tanuma’s eyes are open now. Not a lot, but that’s got to be better than passed out. Katsumi manages to work an arm under his shoulders, get his opposite hand under his head and neck. “Let’s get some tea in you,” he says, because he’s not sure what the fuck else to do. He can feel a pulse that’s far too quick thrumming under his fingertips, can see the intense splotchy flush across his cheeks that seems to have crept up out of nowhere. Tanuma doesn’t answer him, just scrunches up his eyes against the direct sun on his face, makes a small pained noise that makes Katsumi feel ill.

Making him drink turns out to be less than an inspired plan. He doesn’t seem to register the tea at first, letting it dribble down his chin, but then after a few slow gulps, he gags. And then proceeds to be sick, all over Katsumi.

“Eh. Didn’t like this shirt, anyways,” Katsumi tells him, hoping to exude literally any emotion other than pure terror, and barely managing to turn Tanuma’s face away in time before he gags again.

By the time he finishes, there’s tears in his eyes, and his breaths are coming ragged and loud. He doesn’t seem to notice that Katsumi’s dug through the combini bag, sliding the 2 liter of mugicha under his head and neck like a pillow, and tucked the bottle of Calpis that Taki had asked for underneath his armpit. The rest of Tanuma’s own bottle he upends over his neck and chest, soaking his towel and the top of his shirt. That, at least, elicits a reaction, a faint confused “hm” that would be perfectly reasonable for anyone whose friend has just drenched them in a bottle of jasmine tea.

It makes Katsumi smile, just a bit. “Gotta cool you down. Sorry.” He’s got no idea if it’s the correct thing to do; he’s based the entire tactic on some random lackluster TV drama he’d seen years ago, where some captain of a school track team overheated during a practice, and her teammates tried to care for her on the field while someone fetched a teacher.

At the very least, it didn’t seem to be hurting. His eyes are open wider now, marginally less clouded over. Katsumi’s positioned him on his side again in case of more puking, his cheek squashed against the tea bottle, and he seems to be focused on some spot on the gravel past Katsumi. He looks like he wants to say something, mouth forming around the shape of words, but nothing comes out.

Katsumi turns. There, lying maybe a half meter away on the ground, is something small and rectangular. Some kind of talisman, Katsumi thinks; it’s made of thin pale wood and covered in some inked-in kanji and symbols he can’t make out. He doesn’t touch it, at first. “This is yours?”

Tanuma nods, just a little, then screws his eyes shut like his head is protesting the movement. But by his side his fingers twitch vaguely in Katsumi’s direction. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when Katsumi was getting his phone. Katsumi scoops it up and places it in his palm, and Tanuma’s fingers close immediately around it.

He digs his own phone out again, an exercise in futility, and dials 119, resisting the urge to chuck it into the field as the call refuses to connect. It’s not like he couldn’t half-drag, half-carry Tanuma back towards the nearest house if he really needed to, but god knows how long it’d take, and even with his net zero medical expertise it seems like a bad idea to be moving him from this spot unless it’s on a stretcher, or on the back of a giant invisible wolf monster.

Tanuma’s staring at nothing at all again, his knuckles white from gripping the talisman. Katsumi frowns, grabs Tanuma’s wrist.

“You’re gonna break it. The wood’s pretty thin.”

Tanuma, predictably, ignores him. Even as weak as he is, with his thumb digging into the center of the thing, he’s likely to snap it in half.

But he doesn’t, or can’t, resist when Katsumi takes it from him. “Let’s keep this in one piece, huh. We need all the damned luck the gods want to chuck our way right now.” He’s about to slide it safely back into Tanuma’s pocket when he pauses, glancing down at the talisman.

“You’re sure nothing’s about to pop out and eat us, right?”

But Tanuma’s eyes have fallen shut again. He doesn’t seem to have passed out; he’s still gasping like he’s run a marathon.

“Right. Gonna take that as a yes.” He finishes tucking the talisman away, then slides his hand up under Tanuma’s fringe. He frowns. The intense heat, he was expecting. What he was not expecting was the desert-dryness of his skin. Katsumi’s own hair’s been plastered grossly to his forehead all week long, only to poke up and frizz at odd angles throughout the day. He hadn’t noticed earlier because of the damp towel and the tea-soaked shirt, but Tanuma’s not sweating.

He swallows back panic. God knows how he’s got any more panic to spare, really. “Look,” he says, not expecting an answer. “Nobody’s coming, because apparently nobody in this entire fucking town uses this road except us, so I’m gonna get help.” He blows out a breath. “I think we passed a pay phone. Ten minutes ago? Maybe less. I’ll make it five. If you get eaten by monsters while I’m gone and I ran in this weather for nothing I am gonna be pretty damn irritated.”

***

The only coffee the vending machines have, at least on this floor, is some dismal off-brand that only comes black. But Katsumi resolutely ignores the acid roiling in his stomach when Kitamoto passes him one and pops the tab. It’s something to do. Chug coffee, scroll his phone. Rinse, repeat. At least it’s cold.

“Hey.”

Something lands in his lap. A squashed-looking cinnamon roll, another vending-machine offering.

“Eat that too or you’ll puke again, probably,” Nishimura tells him.

Katsumi has to bite back the reflexive dickish retort. Nishimura looks just about as shit as Katsumi feels, but he’s still got it in him to be kind. Katsumi’s got nothing in him but raw nerves and stomach acid, at this point.

“Right,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

There’s not even a good reason anymore for the weird shitty haze over his brain. When Tanuma’s dad had called, just before three AM and only two-ish hours after they’d been forced to leave the hospital last night, the news had been good. He was awake, talking a little, and the fever definitely wasn’t gone but the numbers were creeping back downwards. They’d need a few days, at least, to run some barrage of tests and keep an eye out for lasting damage. Tanuma’s dad had been judiciously vague about just what kind of damage, but the half dozen browser pages on heatstroke currently open on Katsumi’s phone had given him a pretty grim idea.

The Fujiwaras’ house had been closest to the hospital, so they’d spent the remainder of the previous night all sleepless and huddled together on the floor of Natsume’s room. Katsumi hadn’t even put up a fight when they’d dragged his futon into the very center of the room between Kitamoto’s and Natsume’s, when Nishimura had idly flopped his own legs over Katsumi’s, or when Taki pulled up some aggressively cheerful magical girl anime on Natsume’s laptop to fill the dead air. When Sensei had tucked himself in by Katsumi’s hip and gone to sleep. When Touko-san had patted his arm, after their very late dinner, her eyes so gentle it hurt. He’d felt liminal, then, like he’d take off and run if he could just escape his own skin, but at least with the others all squashed up against him he could remember to breathe.

It's past 10 in the morning now. Visiting hours had started at 9, and they’d all piled on the first scheduled bus towards the hospital this morning and arrived before 8, anyhow. They had, of course, not been allowed to step foot out the door without a bag loaded up with bento lunches and a firm promise to Touko-san they’d be back by late afternoon when visiting hours had concluded to get some rest. Though she’d been saying something about “getting some things ready” to bring over herself for Tanuma and his dad, and based on the look on her face when she’d said it Katsumi’s half expecting her to march through the waiting room doors in the next hour or two like a woman on a mission with half the contents of the closest supermarket and drugstore loaded up in her arms. The thought makes his chest feel tight.

But they’d shown up just in time to be informed that Tanuma had an MRI among other things scheduled that morning, and that no, they did not know how long it would take.

Across from Katsumi, Natsume’s dozed off, despite his own best coffee-fueled efforts. He’s slumped sideways onto Taki, lank-haired and restless, flicking through an old magazine with disinterest as her heel bounces on the scuffed linoleum. Sensei’s perched across both their laps, still absurdly half-stuffed into the duffel bag in which they’d smuggled him through the hospital doors, which seems pretty pointless to Katsumi if he’s just going to sit there with his entire head sticking out at this point. But he seems entirely unbothered, his eyes closed; maybe asleep, maybe not. But they’re the only ones tucked over in this little alcove of a waiting room, and damn if not a soul has interrupted them for a good two hours.

It’s probably for the best that Natsume’s getting some sleep, really. He hadn’t gotten any more than Katsumi had; Katsumi had heard his muffled hitched breaths last night when they were all pretending to sleep. Out of all of them, he’s said the least this whole time.

“You can stop looking at him like that.”

Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind.

Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. 

“Like you broke his best friend,” Nishimura says, lowly, before letting out a slight oof like he’s been elbowed in the ribs.

Damn. Alright then.

None of them seem to be holding their breath for him to respond, at least. They don’t seem to know what to say, either, really. He’s weighing the pros and cons of just fleeing to the bathroom when Kitamoto finally says, “Natsume knows better than anyone that this isn’t on you.”

“Why?” Katsumi feels his gut give a little lurch. “Was it some kind of youkai shit after all, then?”

Taki shakes her head. “I mean, you’ll have to ask him, but. Sensei did go and check the area out last night and ask around and everything, and it all seemed normal.”

Sensei remains silent, naturally, but his ear flicks in Taki’s direction.

Kitamoto’s mouth twists. “What I meant was, just keeling over in random places with no warning or explanation is like. A hobby of Natsume’s.”

“We love it,” Nishimura mutters. “It’s great.”

Sensei huffs.

Katsumi glances at Natsume, still slack and dead to the world on Taki’s shoulder. And okay, maybe he kind of still looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. But much less so than when they were kids. Less so even than the first time Katsumi had come to this town. “How many times constitutes a hobby?”

And Nishimura frowns, then honest-to-god starts counting on his fingers.

Taki watches him, mouth twisting like she’s considering it. “I guess it depends what counts as keeling over. Or what constitutes a warning.

“Enough times,” Kitamoto says, decisively.

Nishimura scuffs his toe on the floor. “And with me and Acchan, he’d just be lying through his teeth about it, for months, because he didn’t think he could—“

Could what, Katsumi wonders, but Nishimura never finishes the thought. Kitamoto bumps their shoulders together Nishimura huffs, apparently relinquishing the rant building inside him, but Katsumi thinks the look on his face, the tightness in his eyes, is just this side of grief.

“Anyways,” Nishimura says, after an uncomfortable beat, sounding only slightly more subdued. “Even if you don’t wanna hear it, you’re the Big Damn Hero in this situation. No ifs-ands-or-buts, okay. We all know it. Natsume knows it.” Taki nods, flint-eyed like she’s daring him to argue.

“You can’t predict this stuff,” Kitamoto adds, after a moment, his expression hard to parse. “With anyone. And you’ll just make yourself crazy thinking you can.”

“Okay,” is all Katsumi can think of to say. It sounds dismissive, probably, but it’s all he’s got right now. He watches Natsume scrunch up his nose in his sleep. The council hath spoken, and he is too goddamned tired to refute them.

tbc

[ladythot]

Do YOU have any pussy drunk katsumi thirst.....he's so underrated

Nothing beats my love for pussy drunk bf kwatshumi owochi. But just an alternative thought; I know I said I never read the manga but there are moments of peeking in and peeking outta the community where I came in heels with the spoilers. Of course I didn't miss out one arm katsumi. Now, just imagine him painstakingly trying hard to prod you with one hand—he's forced to place you in a cramped position all for the likes of your womb to be pounded with his viscid cum using one hand clutched at your waist as he grits his teeth, hopelessly grasping at the saddened fact this certain position would've had bred your flesh better if he had another arm to hold you in place properly without you worrying about bouncing back down on his cock.

His own belief of pleasing you without it being half-hearted or ill paced, would remain solid despite the loss of one arm. He wants to make you believe that one arm can do so much as the other being not needed to simply please you—he's so hooked at proffering you the best of intimacy and experience, he never plans on letting his one arm discourage you during hot creamy seggs as he finds himself pounding you more often all because of the far prediction of you having less hope for a better pleasure from him is merely. killing him

[poopyballz28]

To really dig in the point I made about Katsumi literally just being the most lovable and friendship driven character, I'd like to bring up that time he quite literally tamed a fucking violent and crazed lion by just...doing nothing really. Just existing. It's so funny to me how he's just unanimously loved by everyone and everyTHING just because he's the biggest sweetheart on the planet. God, I love this guy.

[knightofspades]

Happy Bday Morikawa!!

thank you for being the perfect example of what NOT to do when playing vanguard

[yandere-writer-momo]

People are allowed to write x reader fics and people are allowed to make male/male or female/female content. All of it is OOC because it’s all fan made

[resetting37]

My characters and their interpersonal dynamics

One of my favorite things when drawing/writing ocs is developing their relationships with each other. And especially with a tight knit friend group like this ! Well... are they as tight knit as I draw them ? Let's see !

heads up, it's going to get lengthy under this cut. If you do end up reading it any of it or all, thank you so very much :-) (otherwise you can let the pictures tell the story haha)

Audrey and Advik - There's unspoken solidarity in them being each other's first friend (within this group.) Both deciding not to ask about each other's whereabouts, they ventured into their new lives together and stood by each others sides as they made new mistakes and learned of each others old mistakes.

Audrey and Avery - Though they have differing ideologies (especially when it comes to magic and the rules of the city) they are still close friends. Avery definitely shares more in a sense this may appear as a one sided friendship, but not to worry. Avery is determined to crack that shell of Audrey's.

Audrey and Zack - They started dating kind of soon after meeting each other (bonding over tragedy can do that to you), but Zack's clinginess and Audrey's desire to be emotionally distant put things to a halt. Whatever. friends can flirt and cuddle too !

Audrey and Kat - Kat fell first, Audrey fell harder. Katsumi truly believes in Audrey's cause and Audrey is motivated by that support. Kat inspires Audrey to be more authentic, and Audrey inspires Kat to be compassionate. And so what they want to spend the rest of their lives inspiring each other ?

Audrey and Morgan - Originally disliking each other due to Audrey's hostility and Morgan's arrogance, they eventually... loosen up around each other ? I can't say they're as close of friends as the rest of the character dynamics within this series, but they're in the same friend group, have made each other laugh, and would commit a crime for the other. They're friendly enough.

Advik and Avery - the "nerdy" ones of the group, Advik and Avery are perfect companions for theatre performances in the park and criticizing a new film for being derivative. Although sometimes it can turn into a competition on who can get the most words in a conversation.

Advik and Zack - the only duo out of this group that grew up together. Despite growing up close, they couldn't call each other friends until they grew past their childhood troubles and now look ! They bond over that ! Though if they're not doing that, they just like to out-snark each other.

Advik and Kat - After they get past their predisposed judgments, and then past their pity towards one another, there's a friendship ! They're quick to come to each other's defenses, and have introduced each other to new things, whether it be Advik's former love of urbex being reunited by talking about it to Kat, and Kat actually knowing the area more and finding those abandoned places to explore.

Advik and Morgan - A kinship to last forever, it doesn't matter that they didn't even meet each other until they were adults. For it feels like a friendship that carries over lifetimes. It's less so inspiring each other than it is that they just naturally molded their personalities around each other, and continued to do so as they had their individual growths. How else to describe it rather than Morgan's own words. "We just get each other !"

Avery and Zack - What if you married someone for ulterior motives and then through tragedy you were stuck with that person ? By each at other's side at their lowest points and believing they ruined the other's life, Avery and Zack know each others deepest secrets and proudly carry them. Are they good or bad for each other ? Well, they're for each other ! (platonically, of course.)

Avery and Kat - They think they can fix each other. They think that the other is insecure and believe they can inspire each other to be more unapologetic. But neither of them know this ? Avery is just so eager to invite Kat to her group studies and Kat just loves to give Avery daily affirmations.

Avery and Morgan - "You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid" type dynamic. Avery insisted there was no relationship between her and the brash ex-pirate Morgan, and Morgan would insist the same about a know-it-all snob. But between the hook ups, Avery destroying herself to find a cure for Morgan, and Morgan following her down that path of destruction with the intention of getting her out... Who's gonna confess first ?

Zack and Kat - Neither of them want to admit how much they have in common. With their fascination for the macabre and distaste for the "mainstream" They're both a little kooky, though it takes a while to realize they're the same kind of odd and maybe shouldn't be looking down on each other like that !

Zack and Morgan - Started out as "friends by association" it wasn't until they started one-on-one hang outs when they realized how much they were missing out on the other's company. Sure, Zack has to prove to Morgan their "empathy meter" is way off, but that also results in them having to discuss why its off. "Okay now guess my mood," Morgan says back. Great, how did this conversation lead to talking about each others feelings ?

Kat and Morgan - These two bring out each other's quirks and go to each other if they want advice that warrants no judgments. There's also the extrovert solidarity between them. The only two of the group that are always up to going out to do fun stuff. Probably would have hooked up more if their feelings towards other people didn't get in the way.

[felsdumpsterfire]

I KNOW I SAID I WAS GONNA DRAW OFF (THAT'S COMING I PROMISSSSE I JUST HAVE TO DIGITALIZE IT) BUT I STARTED REWATCHING BAKI AND I WANTED TO DRAW MY GIRLS ;0;

I love them a lot, I want to draw them more along with my Kengan ocs ;w; my friend and I have a whole story with our ocs and Kengan

[mewmewchann]

if I had a nickel for every time I projected onto a character a lot as I was writing them only to realise at least 1-2 years later that I made them autistic and never even realised until now I'd have two nickels.

.

Which isn't a lot. But it's weird that this has happened twice.

[killsaki]

tokyo revengers oc.

character belongs to me (k1saki via tumblr). please refrain from saving, using or reposting him.

quick facts —

birthday: march 13th 1989

star sign: pieces

height: 5’11”

given name: katsumi means ‘to win, to overcome’

family name: soma means ‘the sound of wind, truth’

likes: breakfast foods, women who can cook, itsuki.

dislikes: clingy women, his neighbor’s dogs, baji.

current worst habit: getting holes in his gloves every time he fights.

respected/admired person: kazuo soma (dad)

disliked/feared persons: keisuke baji

nickname: ‘katsu’ (by girls), ghost (by friends), maniac (by dad).

favorite spot: his dads couch

special skill: he can outrun any human. (manjiro sano is not human)

[more details and information about katsumi.]

[destinybcnds]

♡ i live to sow chaos

Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours [ accepting ]

●●○○○ | ATTRACTION ●○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●○○ | INTEREST ●○○○○ | LOYALTY ●○○○○ | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

[doppoorochisimp]

I actually love Doppo's inhability to befriend anyone unless they've beaten the living shut out of him first

[fox-buried-in-maple-leaves]

omg and this also with katsumi. please :3

Ask Game!

When have they been unable to save someone or something no matter how much they tried?

There are many things Katsumi knows he doesn't remember. Thoughts in the back of his head, these small glimpses of times that are mostly a haze. But he's woken up in the day with blood on his hands and his face on posters. And he wonders how many people he couldn't save. How many he's hurt. He doesn't know.

How much death and/or destruction have they wrought?

Katsumi has only ever done what he had to in order to protect himself. The towns he has destroyed, the lives he has ended, have only been because of their ceaseless pursuit of him. That he's, aware of, at least.

Do they try to prevent unnecessary suffering?

Yes, he doesn't enjoy the suffering of others. And he'll do anything in his power to make something his problem if he sees injustice.

How do they feel about sparing women and children if given the choice? Do they value certain lives over others?

Only children, gender accounts for absolutely nothing. Children are taught hate, they are not born with it. He understands that their understanding is limited.

What's their moral compass like?

Katsumi hopes he is a good person.

How far would they go to save someone they love? Would they sacrifice themselves? Others?

He lost who he was in his attempt to get his mother to love and respect him. Now? Who does he have left? Who does he love? What would he sacrifice? He doesn't know.

What's their pain tolerance?

Very high. This is because Masuyo is taking the brunt of the pain.

Do they feel glee at the sight of blood?

No, he feels horrified. But if Masuyo is active, he'll suppress that feeling into nothingness so that Katsumi can get through the moment.

What do they regret the most?

Same as answer one!

Do they have the ability to love?

He does, very much so. Katsumi is a bleeding heart. In his original media, he fell for somebody due to their kindness. For their heart. Not what they could provide him or how they made him feel. The way they lived their life was simply enough. And in that regard, Katsumi falls in love with every aspect of the world around him.

Do they have empathy? For whom? For what?

Not as much as he'd like. He often doesn't understand or he missteps. But he tries, because he wants to be empathetic. Even if it isn't something that comes naturally to him anymore.

How easy is it for them to get lost in despair?

Katsumi doesn't remember what happens when the thoughts get too dark and the world too crushing. He knows, he hopes, the other him is protecting him. But doesn't that make the despair worse? To not know how low one can get. To never know how bad it is, so you never appreciate the good?

What's their relationship to their body? Self esteem? Self image?

It doesn't align with his mind, but it keeps him going, so he respects his body.

Do they have self worth?

Some, yeah. I mean he hasn't let anybody kill him yet so he's gotta have somethin for himself. Not like he's alive for another.

How do they kill? Do they try to minimize suffering?

Quick and efficient. Katsumi can use the wind as a blade or the katana that sits on his back. Swift. Occasionally he's forced to use his wakizashi, but the end is no different.

What haunts them?

It's well known to the reader, you, that Masuyo is a ghost. But Katsumi is unaware of this, Katsumi thinks he's being haunted by an evil version of himself. So either way, the answer is Masuyo, just how one sees him differs.

What little regrets do they have?

The things he took for granted.

If they could go back in time for 5/10/15 minutes and change something, what would it be?

That's the thing, right? He doesn't know. He can't go back to a time he doesn't remember and change an event he can't process.

How do they view the world? Are they an optimist? A pessimist? A realist?

Katsumi is an optimist! He feels he has to be.

Are they codependent? Do they have abandonment issues?

Oh god yeah. For sure.

What's their relationship to sex? Modesty?

He's a virgin LMAO.

Do they enjoy the taste of blood?

He doesn't care. It's whatever.

Do they enjoy the feel of hot blood on their skin?

No, Katsumi hates how sticky it is. Its why he hates waking up with it on his hands, immediately goes to scrub his skin.

Do they like maiming?

No.

Have they tore someone to shreds with their bare hands? With their teeth?

He's a kitsune, he's definitely torn someone to smithereens with his teeth. Does he remember it? Probably not.

[ladythot]

Your daughter calls me daddy too