#aki flesh&bone

[ena-113]

and bam! the homemade blorbo is set free into the internet! *ੈ✩‧₊˚

A young couple prayed at a shrine, as is tradition during the festival. They asked for the chance to have a strong and healthy child.

Meanwhile, at the same time, in a very different place, a group of teenagers stood around a circle drawn in the dirt, fumbling through chants in a language they didn't understand, as is normal for a typical slumber party. Boredom often led to strange activities.

The young couple, universes away, didn't quite specify they were planning for that child to be birthed naturally from the woman. Why should they? It was obvious what they meant, and really, what other way was there?

The teenagers, centuries ahead, didn't even know what they were saying. It was a dead language! And besides, no one thought it would actually work. Beyond maybe the wind blowing a little stronger, what else should they expect to happen?

Screaming. That's what happened. On both ends.

[ena-113]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!

this is like my favoritest thing ever. also love how this is how i end up introducing my little homemade blorbo to the internet.

the sister agrees, she is absolutely in love with the lil comic. also says you absolutely nailed Rei's characterization and behavior.

a bonus answer as to what she's dreaming of.

it's oranges. im planning on a bit of a gag with oranges. they're how she starts teaching shika "divine tounge", or, yk english.

I plan on publishing her on ao3, not so sure how soon, though I did have a big burst of energy and inspo recently

first person who reblogs this with a picture of their oc and a little blurb ab them, Ill draw ur oc for u (quality not guaranteed)

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Stand Alone Series Chapter: 2

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n and Hermione attempt to deal with the emotional and mental turmoil that came after the 'Battle Of Hogwarts' & everything else that led up to it.

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, depiction of cutting & self harm, death & violence, a bit of fluff somehow

Note: this one gets pretty graphic so please approach with caution. like stated there is mention of self-harm and a depiction of it so i have indicated that section with asterisks. if that sort of thing is triggering for you please skip and stay safe! but other than that, hope you enjoy. <3

Taglist: @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @poppyflower-22 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @cherryflavoredcoke @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @brocoliisscared @aki-ham @theheartwants-what-itwants

(comment to be added to or removed from the taglist)

You cover your ears, a feeble effort to dull the incessant ringing.

Squinting to find your way through the courtyard, the dust began to make your eyes water. Yet the sting was a welcomed distraction from the near deafening noise that reverberates through the air.

You gaze up at the sky and it only helps to disorient you further.

The sun is out, but there is no light.

“Harry Potter is dead!” A voice dulls the noise, his voice.

The large snake that slithers past your foot makes you recoil, it circles you continuously, as if stalking a prey.

You reach for your wand on instinct, but you find that it is not in your pocket.

Your breath catches in your throat as Voldermort advances towards you. Half of his body deteriorating into dust, yet a spine-chilling grin remained.

You attempt to call for help, but you have seemed to forget how. So instead, you take a frantic scan of your surroundings.

Your stomach turns as you catch sight of a bloodied arm, sticking out of a pile of rubble to your left. You shift closer, motivated by a curiosity that you quickly learn to regret.

What you once thought was rubble, turns out to be a mountain of corpses.

They lay limp and lifeless atop one another, some nearly burnt to ash– others bloodied beyond recognition.

Your schoolmates, reduced to pieces of charred flesh and bone.

The urge to wretch overcomes you again.

“Harry Potter is dead.”

Voldermort's voice again, now only above a whisper, still makes you wince. You followed the arm he has left outstretched, pointing to the highest point of the mountain.

There you spot Harry, laying on the top of the pile, unmoving.

Dead.

The noise that leaves you is involuntary when you notice Ginny pinned underneath him. Then there is Fred, Neville, Seamus– Ron.

All dead.

“No!” You cry out, this time your voice does make it past your lips.

At last, you are able to locate your wand, you retrieve it swiftly as you point it at Voldermort.

His face has changed again. This time he appears to you younger, human.

You are left staggered for a heartbeat, still you continue to aim your wand towards the man standing before you.

“The snake, y/n, you have to kill the snake.” Her voice carries through the courtyard. Hermione's voice.

Still, you can't see her.

You just barely manage to bite back a sob.

Her absence is like a dagger to your chest, twisting relentlessly.

“I will try.” You respond to no one.

The man's head morphs into one of a serpent, and soon, a bright flash of green erupts from the tip of your wand. With a large thud, the man before you drops to the ground.

It leaves you unsettled– killing still feels unnatural, it made you sick, and you vow to always feel that way. To never let it be a part of who you are, you cannot allow it to be.

You stand over the body now only to realize there is a serpent head no longer.

The corpse now bears a resemblance to someone you recognize all too well. A blade twists in your chest again, hacking away at your heart.

Hermione remains motionless as you kneeled over her. Frenzied, you pull her head onto your lap, feeling her pulse.

You did wish to see her, but not like this.

How can a sight you desperately yearned for, so suddenly turn into something you utterly dread?

“No, no. Wake up, my love. Please, wake up.” You beg in anguish, clutching her body close.

She is so cold.

The only bit of warmth you feel comes from the uncontrollable flood of tears that escape your eyes. You cannot sense the dagger anymore, and soon, you cease to feel much of anything.

Your chest– your very being, vacant.

You have killed Hermione, and the last bit of your soul in the process.

-

When you open your eyes again, you are in bed. You wake, alongside the familiar blinding ache in your arm.

All you can hear now is your quickened breathing, and the pounding of your heart as you sit up.

“Shit–” You mutter, clutching your head, your shirt sticking to your frame from sweat.

It wasn't real, only a dream.

The Dark Lord is gone, and you are safe.

Instinctively, you reach for Hermione, only to find the empty space next to you.

Panic sets in once more as you climb out of bed.

It can't be– it was only a nightmare.

“Hermione?” You call out into the darkness, but you receive no response.

You know she is alive. You spent the day with her and you went to bed with her.

It has been that way for weeks, you concede.

That is unless, you've managed to escape one nightmare only to wake up to an equally bleak reality.

The thought makes you shiver, you wrap your arms around yourself as you call out once more.

“Hermione?” You speak slightly louder as you enter the kitchen, still, she is nowhere.

You swallow uncomfortably, rubbing your throat when you realize just how parched you are.

You quickly approach the sink, retrieving a clean glass. “Aguamenti.” You watched silently as water started to fill it.

Soon you throw your head back, entirely emptying its contents.

You attempt to set the now empty glass down but a sudden sharp pain in your arm causes it to slip out of your fingers.

Before you can save it, the glass shatters across the counter.

The sudden noise causes you to flinch, but any shock you experience quickly morphs into pure anger as you observe the dark mark etched in your arm.

Truth be told, after the battle you had expected it to become dormant, obsolete. There is no use for it now that Voldermort is dead. but to your dismay, the effects only got worse and far more agitating.

Still driven by hot rage, you carelessly reach for a piece of glass, clutching it firmly.

Simply desperate to put an end to it all. The wretched memories– the pain and anguish that you carry with you every waking moment it is a result of this symbol in your arm.

***

Without another moment's thought, you run the sharp edge across your skin. You groan at the pain, but a queer sense of relief sets in as you watched the blood trickle down your arm.

The warm, red substance defaces the dark mark, you began to relish in the fact that you could hardly see the symbol now. So you decide to cut again.

You have no intentions to stop until it has been carved out of your arm entirely.

***

Although, you are only allowed to continue for a moment longer. You are caught by surprise when Hermione distrupts your plans. She wretches the piece of glass out of your hand in distress, it makes a loud crash as it lands it in the sink.

“What on earth are you doing?” Your girlfriend exclaims in horror. She immediately grabs a wash towel, quickly placing it over your arm to stifle the bleeding.

You don't respond for a prolonged moment, you can only afford to stare at Hermione. She is safe, she is alive.

You have not harmed her.

“Darling..” Hermione coos, you only realize you are crying when she gently wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“I just wanted it to stop.” Is all you can manage to utter, and your girlfriend's expression only grows more concerned.

She averts her gaze, lifting the towel to inspect your arm. Whereas, you mantain your stare upon Hermione– you cannot bear to acknowledge the damage you've inflicted upon yourself.

“This.. that was not the way to do it. What if you had cut too deep? Please, y/n, you can't do things like that. You frightened me half to death.” Hermione reprimands, her frustration entirely justified.

You nod in resignation, the fact is you weren't thinking, you simply acted, as you always do.

“I'm sorry.” You say with real remorse and Hermione swiftly wraps an arm around you.

She kisses the side of your face, embracing you tightly. The both of you remain like that, without speaking, for a while, simply taking comfort in each other's presence.

“Where were you?” You finally mumble against Hermione's shoulder. She pulls back to look at you properly before speaking.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went out onto the balcony.” Your girlfriend explains, loosely gesturing to the sliding doors in the distance that remain open.

“I lost track of time because I was reading.” Hermione adds, more sheepishly, and it only makes you smile.

“Of course you were.” You quip.

Your girlfriend shifts her eyes away from yours once again to look at your arm. You observed as she set her bottom lip in between her teeth, always a sign that she was thinking.

“You know, I think it's almost romantic.” You say suddenly, and Hermione blinks at you in confusion.

“What is?” She asks but you don't allow her to ponder on your statement for too long as you reach for her left arm.

You lift it up. It is tough to see under the moonlight, but you could still somewhat make out the scarring on Hermione's forearm.

Her flesh once carved until bloody with the word ‘mudblood’, now fully healed, leaving only a thick scar.

“Now we're the same.” You remark with a smirk, an effort to make light of a otherwise grim situation.

Hermione scoffs, retracting her arm.

“You are an idiot.” She claims, but there is no bite to her words, and you catch a faint smile playing on her lips as she rolls her eyes at you.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” Your girlfriend coaxes, tossing the bloodied wash towel into the sink.

[sseomtada]

being [ruben dias]

your move to Manchester signifies a triumph - the result of nearly a decade of relentless, hard work. However, your sweet victory is quickly turned sour when you reencounter the person you once deeply loved.

a/n: remade secretly only to be back on my bs...here's to praying for me to finish this fic? | 1/??? | 4191 words

This weather was nothing short of an utter atrocity.

It was the kind of bone-chilling freeze that overpowered even your skin's ability to raise its own flesh. Every ounce of energy repurposed instead to turn that evolutionary feature inwards. A futile effort, at least in your case. Even back home in Amadora, you suffered from genetic lack of internal warmth.

Miserable environment aside, the move would be worth it. Everything that you’ve done for the past few years - nearly a decade of sleep deprivation, being the brunt bearer of power trips and clinging to the slimmest sliver of rarely presented opportunities - had led to this.

Not the brutalist view spanning the length of your new floor to ceiling living room windows, but what it signified. Growth. The expansion of your firm here, in Manchester.

“Estou exausta…”

You pulled your eyes from the endless clouds to see your right hand, Aki, draped limply over the last of your boxes.

“Careful.” You bent to rip open the tape sealing the one near your feet.

“Oh, sorry.” She blew her overgrown bangs up to no avail. “Am I crushing your precious CB2 ceramics?”

“Actually, you’re slowly sinking onto my very sharp surgical steel kitchen knives.” The box cutter in your hand gestured vaguely to the label beneath her hips.

Aki’s yelp echoed off through the empty loft as she sprang from the impending mockup of a medieval torture method. Your laughter joined in when she grimaced and muttered something threatening to the thick cardboard that remained dent free.

“Thanks for helping me with all this.” You exhaled. “I owe you.”

“We’re even when you think about it.” She fetched a box opener of her own.

Your eyes widened. There was never a moment in your lifelong friendship when she didn’t take up on an IOU card. Not even when she purposefully served a suspension for knocking the lights out of a girl who blew gum into your hair in the fifth grade.

“I mean, you brought me along with you to open Bana. Full executive package, no less.” Aki beamed and then sneered upon unboxing her newfound arch nemeses.

That was true. Since she was the company’s Head of Finance, her immigration to Manchester was completed covered. Housing located right across the hallway, a brand new car of choice and an increase in salary to accommodate for the higher price of living wasn't the worst package to receive.

It didn’t feel like much of a repayment for her efforts when all things were considered. Bana wouldn’t be close to what it was today if it wasn’t for her. Any business was only as successful as how well they manage their finances, an aspect that she can solely and proudly take credit for.

Not to mention that you both would be extremely busy while trying to fully establish this new branch. If anything, she at least deserved the building’s penthouse suite for the headaches bound to come throughout this journey.

“So…is that a pass on the 1982 Bruno Giacosa?” You dangled the proverbial carrot.

Aki didn’t miss a beat, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Getting ready for your first day at the office never felt this good.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that your first ever job was, understandably, anxiety inducing. Being an intern for a well-known marketing firm wasn’t known to be a glamorous position - the multitude of reasons for that not stopping at being a coffee gopher.

After climbing the ladder to a mid-level position within your previous company, it became painfully obvious that the older leaders had no intention of making room for you soon. To eradicate any dreams of that from your mind, they even outright said it.

That led to your next go at a first day, the start of your own consultancy which would then go on to become Bana. Even though you had established your presence in the marketing world and had a few loyal clients, no amount of seminars you’d attended or books you’d read could’ve prepared you for the monster of a task you’d taken on.

This time felt different. There was always going to be an element of nervousness when stepping into a new venture. Even though this was a new branch on a tree you knew well, there was a lot to learn about operating in a new country and little time to do so.

What you had now, however, allowed you to convert that nervous energy into excitement. Experience, establishment and esteem. Those things among the equally as important trustworthy team behind you left you more confident than anything else that this could potentially only be the beginning.

“There better be a good reason why you’ve got me out early on a morning like this.” Aki’s poor facial muscles have yet to relax since the move it seemed. This time their scrunch was due to storm clouds looming in the distance.

“I think our very lovely AD has something exciting to share.” You nodded to give her the go ahead.

“Ladies, as you know I’ve been working on getting us an in with a certain business through my various sources and I’m happy to report that Bana was among the firms selected to pitch.” Cindy could barely contain her excitement.

Her optimism was infectious and part of the reason you recruited her. Another reason for bringing her into the fold to establish the new office was the insane network she had.

The blonde Londoner was in a similar predicament to you when you were starting out not long aog. Even hungrier, if you admitted it. Her former employer didn’t see the potential she clearly possessed, so you had no problem poaching her from them.

“And do we finally get to know the name of this state secret level business?” Aki leaned forward.

“Nike!” Cindy couldn't hold back any longer.

Even your face dropped at that. Not in the way that one’s expression would if they just found out that they’d been rejected from their dream school. It was something akin to finding out you’d won a fucking Oscar.

Among the celebratory cheers and shimmies, you thanked Cindy greatly for her hard work. And although it was a moment of uncontainable joy, the wheels had already began to turn in your mind.

There was absolutely no room for error if you wanted this pitch to be chosen. Being a newer firm undoubtably going up against major competition, Bana’s proposal had to be more than just that.

It had to be a statement. One that said you were not only a major player in this field, but that you also were to be seen as a direct rival.

You got to delegating tasks quickly. The sooner you got the bare bones of the pitch down, the quicker you could work on perfecting it. Aki was on budgeting as always - pricing presentation materials, researching and pricing the estimated budget for the product rollout for Nike.

Cindy was mostly on recon regarding the target audience. The product being launched was a new pair of their iconic AirMax, so you anticipated her using historical data as a guideline.

You’d have to do a fair bit of research yourself - getting into market research, the brand’s positioning and messaging - all while putting your firm’s spin on where you think Nike is hoping to go with this launch.

It was needless to say that the midnight oil would be burning. You set up a co-working space in the conference room to make communication seamless in brainstorming and building. This was the energy you missed so much, and a more sentimental reason behind your expansion.

Back home in Amadora, Bana was a well oiled machine. With a strong staff beside you, the hands on aspects of marketing were placed on the back burner by your own doing. In order for your employees to grow, you had to let them lead projects of their own and you trusted them to do so.

Now, you were back to inhaling concerning amounts of dry erase marker fumes and getting carpal tunnel from extensive mood boarding. That along with a side of meal deliveries and an equally as hard-working coffee machine made the long hours seemingly fly by.

“I’m so tapped, I need to power down for the day.” Aki stretched her back dramatically.

“Feel free to head out too, Cindy. Get some well deserved rest.” You took a moment of your own to release tension in your neck. “I’m good here for the next few hours.”

She was visibly grateful to be given the go ahead to clock out. From past experiences, you were able to sympathize all too well. You also made a mental note to have a conversation with her regarding working hours. There was never going to be an obligation of staying behind under your watch.

Cindy and Aki neatly organized materials for their return in the morning while you made your way to your office to continue outlining. With all of the research required collected, all you had to do at this point was place the information into their allocated areas.

There were three short raps at your door before you called her in.

“Still being here wasn’t exactly what I meant by rest, Cindy.” You chuckled, not looking away from your monitors.

“I’m on my way out now! Just wanted to bring you over the client mailing list I got from my source a minute ago.” She slid a USB drive onto your desk.

Your brows raised appreciatively, “Thank you, really. I mean it when I say that your presence here is essential and invaluable.”

Cindy waved a hand, her head shaking in time.

“I’m just happy to be helpful. See you tomorrow!”

You bid her goodbye and immediately got to taking a look at the information she left behind. It would be very useful in filling in some gaps you needed to flush out ideas that would attract the goal audience for the new product.

Influencers, Performing Artists, YouTubers…Athletes.

The last of those categories was obviously a given considering the brand. It also wasn’t the first time you’d come across that group in your line of work. This time though, seeing the label suddenly formed a knot in your stomach.

You were brought back to all of the avoidance in the aftermath - everyone in your life completely air-gapping the football world from your path. They did that to protect you, a gesture you still couldn’t bring yourself to thank them for verbally.

The mouse beneath your hot palm slowly shifted as you moved the cursor to click and expand the list. That knot grew to the size of a boulder. It squeezed your insides painfully within and forced a broken little noise past your lips.

One look at the name Ruben Dias was all it took to rattle you to your core.

o passado

At the age of seven, you moved to Portugal.

There wasn’t much you missed about your hometown, or even remembered for that matter. All you knew was that you were eerily calm for a child whose entire life up until that point had been uprooted. It was possible that your serene state of mind came from your mom.

She was all you had in the world. There was virtually no relationship had with her family - the only photograph you ever had with your grandparents was at your christening.

When it came to your dad, she put it as kindly as she could for a kid. You were smart enough to read the inference in her tone and the look on her face in the handful of moments he was brought up. He wasn’t in your life because he didn’t want to be.

Yet still, none of that made you sad or shaped you into a person defined by traumas. You intended to live the life that your mother encouraged you to. Be a kid, climb trees and get dirty, make friends along the way.

And that was just what you did. The first of them being the girl in your class that waved you over to the empty seat beside hers when you transferred. My name’s Akenna, but I hate it so I make everyone call me Aki instead.

She was the only person other than your mom who made you feel safe enough to confide in, just as easy to talk to as it was to listen to her wild recounts of her own life story.

Aki quickly became a regular in your home and you in hers. The giggles and secrets held in the various forts sprawling from your living room to bedroom would stay under lock and key until long after you both passed.

The next person you met would be the one who arguably shaped you the most. Loud shouts and tussling with a ball in the neighborhood park with his siblings was where you met Ruben. His tattered football rolled to your feet that touched the ground after you’d leapt from the swings.

With a weak kick, you returned it. Ruben shook his head in disapproval before he shot it right back at you. Try that again, with the left this time. You didn’t know if it was anger at being challenged by some random kid or genuine hidden talent, but when you hit the ball with your instep, it flew powerfully and directly into his own.

She’s on my team!

Inseparable wasn’t a strong enough word to describe you two. After finding out that you lived only one house down, he would come to your school to walk with you back home. On many of those occasions, Aki was there too. Your mom would be waiting with snacks and a warning, don’t play too long out in the sun, patifes.

Somewhere and somehow along the years, you and Ruben had become so close that it seemed you two were dating. Ivan jokingly asked one day as you were sharing a vanilla ice cream cone, ew, are you boyfriend and girlfriend? Ruben grabbed your hand, laced your fingers with his, and simply said, yes.

And that was that.

As for when you began to realize you loved him, that was harder to pinpoint. Maybe it came once you began to notice how helpful he was to you and your mom.

Ruben was always willing to lend a hand with repairs around your house, even if it meant searching up how-to videos when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Or how he’d go out of his way to walk your mom home when she worked night shifts.

Aki often griped and rolled her eyes at how you two were making her feel like a third wheel. Those complaints were always quickly followed with rebuttals that she’d spent a grand total of fifteen days as a single girl since she was thirteen.

Just make sure my maid of honor dress isn’t fugly at your wedding.

It was all but a given that marriage was pending in the future for you two. Ruben never had eyes for any other girl and you…God, you were terribly devoted to him. Even your posters of Justin Bieber found themselves catching dust in the closet, replaced by a collage of photos you and Ruben had taken together over time.

Five years saw graduations, proms, college acceptances and many, many firsts experienced together. His arms were the only man’s you’d ever laughed in, cried in, slept in. His eyes were the only one’s you saw when you closed your own. His lips were the only thing you wanted to taste on the good and bad days, and everything in between.

So, what happened on September 15th 2017?

To this day, you still had no answers to the why behind that question. Nor could you allow yourself to wrack your brain for them any longer should you want to hold onto your sanity.

As for what. Simply put, it was the worst day of your entire life to date.

On the eve of his debut for Benfica’s first team, an event he’d dreamt of and worked so hard for, one that become just as significant to you by extension, Ruben broke up with you. Over the phone, no less - which added humiliation onto a violent erupting volcano of destructive emotions.

Cold turkey, brutal, cruel. It’s over, don’t contact me, I don’t love you anymore.

There were no warning signs, no moments in retrospect left unturned during your spiral, that could’ve possibly made what you read true. You initially thought it was some sick joke. Maybe one of his teammates had taken his phone. Or perhaps there was some girl that wanted him and was jealous that he was yours, so she decided to play dirty.

It was none of that or the million other scenarios you came up with on you walk over to his home. You came to learn that it was, in fact, not a joke. Ruben meant it when he said he was done with you.

He made that painfully clear as he looked at you standing under the faint glow of the lantern on his front porch through the window. Those eyes you once dreamt of fondly seemingly someone else’s as he drew the curtain and shut off the light.

You don’t recall much of time that passed in the months following that night. Every now and then you’d get flashes - Aki crawling in and out of the bed you temporarily became one with, your mom scooping you up to help you bathe and wash your hair.

It was better that way, you think. A blessing in disguise to not be able to clearly recall the most devastating period of your existence.

When your memory resumed, it always picked up at the same place. You siting with Aki on the steps of an abandoned subway station in total silence.

In your mind, you were there with him years ago when the line was still functioning. The rush of the train brought wind along that rose your hair like lightning was about to strike. Ruben grinned toothily as he smoothed it back, tilting your face upwards.

He said I’d always be home when I was with him. Where am I supposed to go now?

The silence returned even louder following the question that neither of you had the answer to.

Instead, you sat there in it with your best friend and shed the last tears you ever would over Ruben Dias.

o presente

Seven years was a long time.

It came with two college degrees, laser focus and an ability to compartmentalize so strongly that it would terrify artificial intelligence.

Whatever threatened to upend you at the sight of his name was snatched up and contained to be dealt with sometime in the future. You didn’t put literal blood, sweat and tears into your career to let one old wound derail it at such a pivotal moment.

With the same vigor you scrapped up to move on with your life, you poured every ounce of energy you had into absolutely nailing your pitch. Five all nighters, thirty six edits and ten complete run throughs later resulted in Bana being chosen as the firm to brand the newest AirMax.

“I always knew you were a genius, but this project was just,” Aki kissed the air as she took the next left to drive back to your shared building.

“Team effort, Aks.” You mumbled.

The thing about throwing yourself entirely into one project was that when the hard work was done, all the was left was the shit you were avoiding. You could feel it there, gnawing at the back of your head like a mice on a fresh piece of cheese.

“What if we watched an old coming of age movie like we used to on nights like this? Pop out some wine, get in our pj’s…real wild stuff.” She nudged your elbow with hers.

You casted a fond glance at her. Aki would never come outright and say it, but it was her way of checking in with you. The client mailing list was no secret to her since she needed it for the budgeting, so there was no way she missed him being on there.

The mice grew hungrier. Throughout all of your breakdowns and pain, she held all of hers in unselfishly and arguably stupidly. You weren’t the only one who lost someone important to you on that night.

“We do that after product launches. The deal has only just been sealed.” A smile was managed to form on your end.

“Ah…best not jinx it then, huh?” Aki blew a raspberry.

In order to keep her worries at bay this time, something you silently promised to do ever since your senses had returned, you squeezed her arm and doubled down.

“Besides, I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in nearly three weeks. I think I’ll just go for a short run, take a shower and hibernate.”

She nodded, liking the sound of that plan. You would’ve felt proud of your disarming skills had you not known the real reason for her shoulders relaxing. She was looking forward to having the next two days off more than anyone else.

“Don’t forget to text me when you get back.” Aki stuck out her pinky.

“Always.” You locked yours in tight.

The repetitive beat of your feet meeting the ground had the ability to still your mind nearly as much as pouring yourself into your work did. Left, right, left, right, left. When you added in the accompanying swing of your arms, the constant reminder to keep your breath in control and music that made you feel like you could punch a hole through a wall - you were nothing short of a machine.

It was one of the healthier coping mechanism you’d clung to back home. Every day, you’d take to the streets of the new neighborhood you moved to and then to the track at you university.

You’d gotten so good at it that you were scouted to run for the school’s team. Going pro was never a part of your plan, though. You only accepted the offer because it came with a free ride.

A drop of water hit your face, but it was cold.

Your treads slowed a bit as your eyes turned skyward. The clouds illuminated against a murky purplish background with the warning of distant lightning approaching. You refocused and pumped your legs faster. Fucking Manchester.

In between your songs transitioning, you heard a faint rumble. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the sound distorted by the headphones muffling your ears playing tricks that twisted the noise to sound partially human.

Whether it was or not, you weren’t trying to stick around to find out. It was late at night and the weather was going to get hellish soon.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted a shadow ripping behind the streetlights - closing in on yours with each meter. Lactic acid built painfully in your muscles as you pushed even harder, breath control thrown to the wind.

It was gaining on you while rain began to fully fall.

Within a matter of seconds, which is all you had, you came to a decision. You were too exhausted from sleep deprivation and being nearly an hour into your run to beat whoever was chasing after you. The only option you had now was to steel your nerves and use the keys in your pocket as a last line of defense.

Your right hand blindly reached down and was met with lint. Terror hadn’t been felt until that very moment. A thousand and one scenarios raced through your mind with you reaching for the ones that would allow you to leave this situation at least narrowly unscathed.

The one you got a firm grip on using the element of surprise to hopefully distract them from whatever intentions they had for an instant. You took one last deep breath before spinning around swiftly and throwing out a fist.

A man in a baseball cap dodged the punch to his credit, albeit not very ideal for you. His balance, however, was in your favor. He slipped on the slick sidewalk and landed flat on his back with a pained groan.

You were the last thing you should’ve been given that you’d been granted an escape - frozen. On your behalf, you would’ve been halfway down the street and barreling towards your building had it not been for the wide eyes staring up at you.

Those eyes…Ruben’s.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Shinjiro wakes up to pain.

Everything hurts. There aren’t any flowery comparisons to make, everything just– hurts. His whole body is one long blurry throb. His vision fuzzes into meaningless green static.

His bad shoulder is on fire, his ribcage feels like it’s being pulled open at the sternum, the scar tissue on his side yanks at skin and muscle and nerves whenever he takes a breath. The back of his head aches in time with his pulse. His bones feel bruised.

Coming here with everyone was probably the worst decision he’s ever made. Well…alright, maybe the third worst, but that still doesn’t exactly absolve him.

He’d been completely useless– worse than useless, he’d had to be the one protected, and they’d all gotten captured anyway.

Now all he can do is hang here, trussed up like some poor animal waiting for the knife to turn it into a holy offering. That’s how Ikutsuki sees them– how he’s always seen them, apparently. Meat on the altar.

It’s funny in a sick, disgusting sort of way– as soon as he decides he wants to live again, he just gets killed anyway. He’d even gotten a little time to let it marinate, to let the idea that maybe the future did exist for him really sink in before the punchline dropped. He might even laugh at the irony if he wasn’t in so much pain. Maybe this is exactly what he deserves.

But none of the others do.

“Shinji!” Aki’s voice comes from somewhere on his right. It’s probably obvious how much pain he’s in, but he doubts Aki can be doing much better. It really is just like him to worry about Shinjiro instead of himself. “Are you okay?!”

His jaw is clenched tight enough that his molars grind together and he can’t take a full breath. He wouldn’t be able to answer even if there was a point to it.

Vaguely he hears Kirijo’s voice, calling out to her father. He thinks Kirijo-san’s voice answers, but it’s even fainter. He has no idea what they’re actually saying. How did Kirijo-san get here? Does that question even matter at this point? There are so many voices now. They’re all jumbled together.

“Tch. Fine, I’ll do it myself!” Ikutsuki’s snarl rises above the rest of the noise, because as he speaks the telltale click of a loaded gun sends everything screaming back into focus. Sound and the picture below sharpen so suddenly that he can practically feel them cutting into him.

Aigis has Kirijo-san’s hands pinned behind his back in her iron grip, one hand pointed at his head and poised to fire.

Ikutsuki holds the gun. He aims at Kirijo-san.

Even though he’s not the one staring down the barrel, Shinjiro’s pulse still leaps and his breath goes icy in his lungs. The sudden cold numbs him a little, and the scrap of relief brings even more clarity to his senses.

He kind of wishes it hadn’t.

Everything happens so fast after that.

Kirijo-san shakes Aigis off. Shinjiro doesn’t see the second gun, but he hears it. Two triggers pulled and two bullets fired at the same instant.

Ikutsuki doubles over, clutching his gut.

Kirijo-san collapses.

The gunshots were louder, but it’s the way Kirijo screams for her father that echoes painfully in Shinjiro’s skull.

Ikutsuki demands that Aigis kill them. She marches on his orders, takes aim.

Shinjiro closes his eyes. He hears Aigis open fire.

There’s no hot punch of metal in his flesh, though. Instead, the pressure from the chains around his arms suddenly vanishes and he’s falling–

He isn’t able to catch himself or even brace for the impact, so he lands badly. Hitting the ground forces the air out of his lungs in a single, painful lump. His scars feel like someone’s jammed hot pokers into them and twisted.

He doesn’t think he’s bleeding at least, so that means that nothing’s opened back up. Or if he is bleeding, he can’t feel it. Which is probably worse, actually.

People are yelling. Ikutsuki shouts deranged bullshit between heavy, strained breaths. Amada calls out to Koromaru– Koromaru is here? Since when?

It doesn’t matter. None of that is his priority right now.

Someone grabs him and hefts him up to his feet. Shinjiro knows that grip, recognizes exactly who it is even before his vision swims back into focus. He lays his hand over the one on his shoulder and squeezes. “Aki.”

Once he has Aki’s attention Shinjiro leans his head towards Kirijo– too quickly, apparently. Dizziness overwhelms him for a second and he has to lean hard on Aki to stay standing.

Kirijo kneels beside her father, her hair fallen around her face so her expression is hidden. She presses one hand to the side of his neck while the other pats his cheek, trying to rouse him.

He’s not moving.

Aki’s face pinches the way it always does when he’s upset but doesn’t want it to show. He says nothing, just nods and shifts to take on most of Shinjiro’s weight as he walks him over to Kirijo’s side.

Aki lowers him to kneel beside her. He can’t help control the descent and drops too hard, something grinding painfully in his knees. Kirijo doesn’t react to the thud or the hiss he sucks in through his teeth. She doesn’t seem to notice him or Aki at all. Aki hesitates and Shinjiro waves him off to join the rest of the team as they confront Ikutsuki, who’s still shrieking only semi-coherently at them.

He really could have gone the rest of his life without having to see another dead body. Especially not when it belonged to someone he greatly respects. And Kirijo–

She’s no longer searching for a pulse or trying to bring him around.

One hand rests tenderly on her father’s chest, just above the bullet wound. Her eyes are fixed on his face, but it’s anyone’s guess if she’s actually seeing anything right now.

Tears slide silently down her cheeks.

Shinjiro has never seen her cry before.

God. What the hell is he supposed to do?

“My father–” Her voice sounds frailer than he’s ever heard it. He’s not sure if she’s even speaking to him– she isn’t looking at him– but he listens intently anyway. He owes it to her to listen.

“My father once made a promise. He swore he would atone for putting our generation in danger, even if–” She swallows and smooths a wrinkle out of his suit. “Even if it cost him his life. But I–”

Kirijo’s voice splinters into a sob and she buries her face in her palms. “I wanted him to live. I– I became a Persona-user so I– I–”

Shinjiro reaches out and gingerly places a hand on her shoulder. Immediately she turns and collapses against his chest and he can’t tell if the thud of her forehead against his already aching collarbone or the broken-glass wail that she muffles into his coat hurts worse.

He freezes. She’s so distraught that she probably doesn’t even realize what she’s doing.

It’s one sick joke after another tonight, isn’t it. The number of times he’s imagined Kirijo in his arms is, quite frankly, pathetic, but– god, not like this. This couldn’t be further from anything he ever wanted. He feels like such an asshole for even letting his mind drift in that direction, for just sitting here thinking about himself while Kirijo clings to his sleeve and soaks his sweater with her grief. 

Eventually he manages to get himself moving again. He brings his free hand up to her other shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I got you, princess…” he murmurs, so quietly that only she can hear. The only response she can manage is another jagged sob that sounds like it cuts on its way out. 

He’s seen her upset before. He’s seen her dismayed, and furious, and fearful, and devastated.

But he’s never seen her like this. Not lost. Not shattered.

It’s terrifying.

A small eternity later, Aki comes back and crouches beside them, wrapping an arm around Kirijo and pressing his palm against Shinjiro’s back.

Ikutsuki’s finally shut up, it seems like. Distantly, Shinjiro can hear their leader ask Takeba for a quick heal to everyone before the Dark Hour ends. They all need it.

It can’t do much to help with the bullet wounds that have been aggravated by all of tonight’s getting-the-shit-kicked-out-of-him, but still it’s a good thing that he’s still kneeling down when it's his turn. The sheer relief of even just the newest pains finally fading would’ve sent him crashing to the ground.

There’s nothing Takeba can do for Kirijo’s pain, though. There’s nothing any of them can do.

[cielettosa]

AKI HAYAKAWA: A RELUCTANT AND HUMBLE HERO

Chainsaw man manga and anime spoilers!

Aki's introduction into the manga presents him as the epitome of the ostensibly conventional archetype – the composed and proficient senior figure, propelled by the common motif of vengeance. This character archetype, often pervasive in mangas, imbues Aki with an air of familiarity, yet a closer inspection reveals a nuanced departure from the norm.

What sets Aki apart is the stark realism that underpins his pursuit of justice against the formidable entity, Gun Devil. Unlike the fantastical invincibility often attributed to devil hunters in Chainsaw Man, Aki is a manifestation of vulnerability, existing as a fragile entity composed of mortal flesh and bone. The manga underscores the precarious nature of his existence, highlighting the constant specter of mortality that looms over these ostensibly heroic figures.

Aki's yearning for retribution against Gun Devil is not merely a character flaw to be overcome; it is a veritable sentence, an immutable decree shaping his existence. Within the devil hunters, each engagement with supernatural, often immortal adversaries demands a substantial sacrifice. Aki, despite being among the most adept in his vocation, consistently emerges from intense battles profoundly wounded, emphasizing the tangible costs associated with confronting such formidable foes.

The genesis of Aki's descent into vengeance is rooted in the tragic death of his younger brother, a traumatic event for which he assumes culpability. This conscious plunge into darkness becomes the crucible of his unrelenting quest for vengeance. Attempts to extricate him from this moral quagmire prove futile, with even the persistent efforts of figures like Himeno falling short until her own demise. Aki's temporal reality is further compounded by a dwindling life expectancy, reduced to a mere two years after a grueling encounter with Katana-man.

The temporal constraints, however, serve as a mere formality, for Aki's existential depletion had arguably commenced long before his intersection with Denji. The disquiet expressed by Himeno in Chapter 18 is rendered redundant, as Aki had already traversed a substantial distance along the continuum of his personal deterioration. In unraveling the complex layers of Aki's character, Chainsaw Man offers a profound exploration of the human psyche, wherein the pursuit of justice becomes an inexorable force inexorably tethered to the inexorable passage of time.

[aokozaki]

Hearing in retrospect about how P1 and P2 have an overarching storyline with recurring characters really doesn't prepare you for how bare-bones those elements are in P1.

Like, P1 is a really strong story on its own! But P2's use of the recurring elements is less "the continuing adventures of [...]" and moreso them taking elements that were under-explored and fleshing them out.

Like Aki refers to Kandori as her father, and by just teasing out the implications of that, you get the final boss of Innocent Sin. 'Tis neat.

[northwest-cryptid]

My Fem Presenting Aki model is honestly so good right now, I'm so happy with it. I'm gonna just kinda Go Off about it so I'm sorry but...

LOOK HOW CUTE THEY ARE!

Some things I love about this model right out the gate:

They finally have actual high entia wings, which has been a design point of Aki for literally MULTIPLE YEARS now.

I've put in a ton of references to shit I enjoy, like how the Four Directions tattoo I usually wear on my cheek is now the tattoo from XC3 or how one of their eyes literally has the Ouroboros while the other has Aki's original constellations.

Aki now has a mechanical arm, a gift from an old friend.

It also bears the insignia of Aki's old colleague and other half (literally), Cryptid. along with a decal of The Zohar (can you tell I like the entire Xeno-Series?)

As an avid pin collector I also jumped at the chance to throw these on them:

I currently have two main outfits for them. The first being inspired greatly by the look I first drew them in, just very heavily revised.

I still love the original look don't get me wrong, but I've been wanting to experiment with merging Aki's two (masc/fem) on screen appearances with my real life appearance, or at least things I enjoy about it. So I wanted to give Aki something closer to my own hair for once with the darker center part. I'll absolutely give them at least one outfit with a cute messy bob cut though, and yea I'll absolutely bring back their brown hair because brown/black hair goes underappreciated. I also wanted to add in the head wings because I feel like that's the single most glaring aspect of Aki that no one has ever got right and it's one of the main things I love about Aki's design. However I'm really happy with this look as simple as it is.

A minor detail I actually like a lot and could easily "fix" with some quick bone work but kinda refuse to because I think it adds a lot; is that their mechanical hand doesn't articulate in the fingers.

While I could easily just move some bones around in the hands I honestly really like this more as a feature than a bug. Just because I figure someone out there is gonna go "okay but is this just because you don't know how to fix it"

No. It's an intentional feature. I might "fix" it later, but I think it adds a lot of character and makes it feel like a mechanical hand and not just a reskin of an arm.

The second outfit is geared more towards my need to over-design everything I see ever, and it's where most of the stuff shown above is seen.

I basically kit-bashed 3 outfits together and I'm absolutely in love with this absolute mess of an outfit.

I gave them the slight smug expression because I need to be able to be a smug bastard sometimes.

The hair on this outfit is a bit of a nod to an older OC design I have that I do not have any good pictures of but here ya go:

Funny callback haircut to my old Fem-Sona.

I find it kind of ironic that people have gone from He/Him'ing me non-stop to referring to this Aki almost exclusively as "She/Her" and I'm just sitting here like "oh my god it goes both ways" because I accidentally caught myself doing it too, but I digress.

It's very hard for me with how masc presenting I am, to often depict myself in a feminine manner at all and associate it with "me" I typically look at it and go "yea that's a Girl™." So it's been really nice/cool to see Aki like this and kinda point excitedly like "THAT'S ME FUCKER! THAT'S ME!"

I'm just having a very "HER PRONOUNS ARE THEY/THEM" moment lol.

I really do look at this avatar and go "I Think I Hauve Covid" it's so nice. They're so cute and I love existing in this digital flesh.

[emjiroki]

I love your theme by the way and the header is so cute KJSDNgjer also I copied and pasted the whole list then erased some lmaooo so you have a bit to answer but I hope you don't mind <3

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

I definitely don't mind!!! (Thank you for the compliment on my theme btw! I just LOVE valentines day and all it's pretty colors 🥰)

I'll put this under a cut so it doesn't get too long 💕

😅- well honestly I deleted my cringest story about a year ago and it is now archived somewhere deep in my Google docs. It was a Hawks x Reader x Endeavor fic that was three parts. The title was cringe and the whole thing just wasn't planned out very well

🦅- I try my best to outline! Trying to have some organization helps me keep things in line but most of the time the characters and scenes have a mind of their own, I'm just along for the ride.

🤗- advice I would give would be don't limit yourself! Write whatever you want and don't put yourself in a box. Writing something you enjoy truly is key to having a successful story because you put your all into it. And it's not all numbers, just because something you wrote and posted didn't get a lot of likes does not mean it wasn't good! Don't be discouraged!

💞- oh wow I have so many lol Shoto, Mikey, Enji, AngelDevil and Aki and lots and lots more. (Um also Simon "Ghost" Riley from COD but I don't talk about him that often)

😍- Favorite Character to write is probably Enji. I got labeled as a top Enji writer pretty quickly (and unexpectedly) and he's just fallen into the muse category. I feel alot of freedom writing his character and hopefully don't make him to ooc lol

🤲- Hmmmmm well I guess I could.... Knight Enji WIP it is

 Enji had a direct view of the door to the chapel from where he stood posted to the King's left beside the window, and he thinks he might have been the first to see you in the doorway. It was suddenly very hot underneath his heavy armor and he was thankful that he didn’t need to wear the helmet because he might have fainted. Was that his heart hammering behind his eyes, through his fingers tips, and toes? He was sure he died and somehow made it to heaven, broke down the pearly gate, and clawed his way through the clouds to get a glimpse of the angels as you walked through the held-open doors and seemed to suck the air from the room. The closer you got to the alter the more dry his mouth grew, the more his big hands shook, the more his stomach knotted. The stained glass of the church windows glimmered against your skin. Red, Blue, Green, He traced your features in every color, etching your beauty into his memory as a keepsake forever. He would crave it into his flesh if he could, down to the bone so after he’s dead and gone even the worms would know his devotion.

🤯- Genre I struggle with is any sort of mystery. I really don't know why I can't think of good plot twists to save my life. I usually have to talk out my plots with my husband

💔- an old Levi fic I wrote that I never released and is still archived in my docs. It's bittersweet and I just love him so much it hurts (also Oni's Heart pt 3 after readers been taken and Enji is depressed for a bit. Sad.)

🤭- em writes ✍️ is my go to tag for my fics so I can organize and em talks 👄 is my most often used I think

🥰- I LOVE reader interaction!!!! It makes me so happy! And YES PLEASE ASK ME THINGS! I'm always open to questions! And love discussing characters and plots and stuff! MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN 💕

[dasozelotvonnebenan]

1, 7, and 11 for whoever you'd like!

I let the dice decide and the dice would like Doss, Other Aki and Aerana. :>

1. Your character is now the leader of their species, whatever that looks like for them (Arcane Councilmember, Imperator, Royalty, etc). How do they govern and what sorts of changes would they make if any?

Doss: Government subsided corpse donations (Government gives your next of kin money if they get to have your corpse) and complementary requisition system for necromancers and people who keep pet grubs.

Other Aki: He would find the quickest way to have someone replace him. That really isn't his thing. Not that he could ruin much, the way I think Norn run their society would simply mean people won't listen to him if he makes stupid decisions.

Aerana: Oh boy. Her dream come true. The entire asura society has now become her lab assistants. She has the wealth of rata sum to build, requisition and fabricate everything she ever needs in her studies. For the rest of Tyria she basically becomes Inquest 2 Quest Harder.

7. Do they have any skills or abilities that their class wouldn't normally have/just go about their class differently in some kind of way?

Doss (Harbinger Necro): The Flesh Wurm is now an animated arm. The Bone Fiends is tutle body, walking on skritt tails with two small arms holding guns sticking out the back. The Flesh Golem is a crocodile with Norn legs and arms. He can hold six weapons at once.

Other Aki (Elementalist): He can't actively do anything. He's just always warm when it's cold, and always cool when it's warm. Perfect cuddle temperature in any circumstance. He can walk on water if he doesn't think about it, but the moment he does it consciously he falls in. He can jump really far with wind assist.

Aerana (Tempest Elementalist): Aerana has a very low power past which she loses control and just blasts everything around her with lightning until she collapses from exhaustion and or knocks herself unconscious. And with low level of power I mean like, she can give you static shocks over a few meters, or heat a teapot. With the right focus a little more. But everything we see in the game as combat skills would be an instant air overcharge.

11. How accurate is their reputation/image compared to how they really are?

Doss is known as a good but not exceptional alchemist, whose work is interesting but nothing to write home about. He could be voted average citizen of the month if it weren't for the fact that the average citizen has at least four limbs less than him. This is entirely accurate. He is just some guy.

Other Aki: Known for being the best (or second best, depending on the week) friend one could have. Great hugger, great to hug, always down for adventure, but also always down to just sit down and hang out. This is accurate. He and his brother are indeed theatrically competing over who can be the bestest friend.

Aerana: Stylish, dangerously intelligent, easily distracted, slightly mad, ruthless, cold, and vengeful. The first three definitely, the latter three only to outsiders. The madness? Nobody knows, not even her.

[ena-113]

so close to publishing first chap of Aki!! ♡☆

naming things is so hard T^T like wdym I need to compress all the vibes into a few words??

[smilemuse]

THE BLUSH DOESN'T GO UNNOTICED ON AN IMMORTAL GAZE. he doesn't say anything but the temptation to take off the mask himself and lather him in affection is calling him. he resists as they aren't acquainted, or at least he's certain the other doesn't remember him from long ago. however, he knows that his features are rather unusual considering he is a fox deity. ❛ they are, ❜ he shrugs as it should be taken as a matter of fact statement. ❛ you can touch them if you like. ❜ he makes the offer so that he can validate that his fox ears are real. the color is a stark contrast to the dark clothes he's sporting, but being an inari the color of his ears & white were pure snow.

denji's reaction to his proposal despite how outlandish it amuses yoshida to no end. the way the other boy's face reddens at the thought of being yoshida's, or even the fact that yoshida himself wants his first kiss as a currency. yoshida truly desires to make denji his, of course he wants the other to fall in love with him naturally. he could handle the stages, however slow they may be. for him, time is nothing but a unit of measurement that changes like the color of trees. yoshida would wait for denji & that much he's certain of.

❛ what issue would i possibly have with you? i'm serious about you.❜ not that being serious meant suddenly popping out of thin air, but he knows it took awhile for him to reveal himself. yoshida had wanted to get to this status within his lineage before coming back to the blonde. yoshida wants the free reigns to do what he likes while also training his next-in-line. ❛ i'm sure you've heard tales of a fox bride, i'm just sticking to those traditions. some can be humans, it's not of unheard of. man or not. ❜ not that yoshida would make his preferences known although the declaration itself should be more telling than what it is.

a smile still graces his hidden lips at denji's statements. ❛ i'll wait until you get out and i'm more than willing to allow you to get to know me. like, i said i want you to fall in love with me.❜ there's a hum from his lips as he reaches out for denji to allow him to know that divinity can exist between flesh & bone. ❛ you can take my mask off, i don't mind revealing myself to you.❜ there's a gentleness to this act, a breeze of cool air that soothes anyone on a hot day. his thumb rubs small circles along the back of denji's hand.

truth be told, yoshida doesn't know a thing about love either.. however, he does know his crush on the other has blossomed into a quiet devotion & the favoritism he's always willing to show within the shrine. aside from denji, the only person he's shown a good side to is aki himself. there is nothing but respect from someone who governs the people of this shrine to making homages to him.

denji's face falls subtly, blush dusting his cheeks as disbelief also settles on his features. he's not used to someone being so bold with him; even at school he doesn't get this much attention unless it's other guys complaining to him about their girlfriends using him as a seat and starting fights. his eyes are wide, searching for something hidden behind the mask beyond the playful lilt the voice behind it seems to give. denji is unsure what to think when he's almost sure he'd never met the other before.

“haah — there's no way those things are actually real,” denji mutters with a tilt of his head, and for once, steps towards the other man to get a closer look. it's embarrassing now, denji notices, how much taller the other man is compared to him. it's the first time he's ever felt small; it definitely doesn't help the blush on his face too, but he can pretend it's not there so as long as it's not acknowledged.

denji is quiet for a moment, taking a generous moment to consider everything. this guy is seriously insane, he concludes. he doesn't know if he should ask for some kind of proof beyond the ears and tail. as for what kind of feats their god should be able to perform, he wouldn't know of either. he's about a good second from telling the guy off for impersonating a god when the name makes him stop. the name yoshida isn't forgotten, but scarce few would refer to the current god by that name. only the priest himself and the caretakers of the shrine know him by this name, or rather the lineage from which the inari come from. denji knew little about the hierarchy, but from what he does know is no one would call him by the family name so casually. maybe there is some proof to his claim.

however all thoughts cease altogether when the big question is answered. denji stares at yoshida for a moment unblinking, face contorting into mortified bewilderment; flustered at the proposition of marriage and having his first kiss stolen away. his face is a furious shade of red, and he can't see anything, but he's pretty damn sure that behind that stupid fucking mask, the bastard has some kind of shit eating grin. “w-what the hell, dude; what's yer issue,” denji hisses, fighting his voice down from his surprised heightened pitch down to normal. “ y-your what? bride????? dude, i'm a man, in case yer dumb mask doesn't make you see well. besides, i'm in school; i can't get married to anyone, and i'm not gunna marry someone i don't even know. i don't even know what your face looks like.”

[ena-113]

Aki, her parents, and their ninken ♡

inuzuka hc 1: only the main family have the distinct fang-like clan markings. for everyone else, it's just a bit of red somewhere.

inuzuka hc 2: sharp ears, sharp eyes, sharp teeth, sharp nails! some have longer ears, some have narrower eyes. it varies.

(picrews used: 妖男子メーカー, よっこら（改）, DGCメーカー)

[ena-113]

INDEX

I'm on ao3!!!

A lil thing to keep track of all my stuff :) I'll try to keep it up to date.

Flesh & Bone: ao3 link - #aki flesh&bone

Naruto

Linked Universe

FaeHyrule series: head cannons - FH1 - incorrect quotes - FH2

Misc: Memory is Overrated - Teyrule - Four Thoughts - Revivaln't

Genshin Impact

Misc: Myths of Mond - Photography

Humans are space orcs

As-Of-Yet-Unamed Series: 1.0 - 2.0 - 3.0 - 4.0

[whirling-fangs]

Inosuke was not fooled by the stall keeper's swift motion. His eyes caught the droplets that coated his hand, the odd ripple on the water, the stain that formed on the fabric of his clothes as he pressed his burly palm against it.

The fish had been planted right into the boy's net. Inosuke doubted that the kid even realized his own fake luck, feeble as he was, probably unable to spare a single thought for his environment.

Inosuke wanted to scream. He wanted to seize his own catch and fling the fish in the despicable faces of the other boy, his idiot of a father, the cheating old coot, the gawking onlookers. He wanted to yell his rage at all of them, to let out the frustration of an easy win robbed away from him, to evacuate the crushing loneliness that inhabited him, when no one would praise him for his achievements.

He was alone against the entire world.

A cold touch seeped into his shoulder, oozing through fine fabric and sinking right into his bones. His belief immediately corrected, as the most unlikely savior stepped in, wearing that everlasting smile. A smile that would usually freeze Inosuke to the bone as did the contact of his palm, yet it did not quite resonate the same way.

The smell, so pregnant, impossible to ignore, that usually brougt his heart to his lips. That smell meant to cover something else, the stench of ichor, of split flesh and spilled guts, bore a different meaning now.

Inosuke was being rescued.

His hunch confirmed itself as emerald eyes caught motion within the empty waters. A swift slithering, barely a glint, visible only to the most trained of gazes. Inosuke recalled his endless hours spent playing with the koi at the mansion's ponds, the little game he had made to poke them, swat at them, catch them in his hands and proudly bring them back to his mother, as a housecat would bring mice.

The stall keeper's face turned pale as a sheet, replacing the flushed redness that had tinted his cheeks until now. He practically sent the feeble child flying into the bucket with a slap on his back, urging his newly appointed champion to end this miserable game once and for all, and earn him the prize he deserved.

"Wh-whatever! If your brat can't catch that fish, then it's your loss!"

Inosuke could not spare a word in answer to the monster's whispers. His eyes were already trained on the blue fish, its tiny form hardly making any ripples in the bucket, as if it was made of water itself. Emerald eyes followed its trail with the focus of a hawk, his hand slowly approaching the surface, careful not to dip the bottom of the scoop into the waters.

Splash. The scoop disappeared, water sent flying into Aki's eyes in an effort to halt his progress, as Inosuke moved his arm in a great arc to catch the fish from the front.

The greedy man mellows before the sweet offering in their cadence; because the Lord Founder's kimono speaks of wealth and so does the golden lotus ornament holding his hair in place. That hair that has already gathered some attention from men and women alike, for its striking color and odd texture, and because it's very rare to see a blonde person around these parts of the island. And they're preoccupied with that, because the human eye can only see so far, until that geezer bellows with mirth. And Dōma holds his smile - but his lips hide his teeth.

There's a collective gasp at the sheer speed with which that feral boy grabs the fish. His little hands are deft. For a moment, the Lord Founder thinks that all the poor koi he has had to replace because of that child would see their suffering pay off tonight.

That amicable smile falters with the outcome. Penetrating gaze catches the slight motion from that man; and the forged triumph on that frail kid's face. Dōma's lips twitch. It would seem they've landed themselves into an interesting predicament. A human that thinks they can bend the rules against a demon, breaking every karmic law. That same cold glare snaps to the kid's father, who has stepped out of the crowd to partake in his son's blink of glory.

"Look, look, everyone! My son has caught the last one! This is my son!" And he grabs that boney wrist and dangles the kid around, splashing water everywhere as the fish panics in its scoop. There's mixed reactions. Some pairs of eyes are set on the peculiar Lord Founder that stands stiff on the other side of the pond, lips curled in a half-smirk that almost threatens to slip off and reveal a scowl. "Good work, Aki!" Pitiful humans, making fun of him? Now that's unheard of. In the glance exchanged between him and that thieving stall-keeper, it's quite obvious that this has become personal.

Just for that, they are not leaving this stupid festival without Inosuke's fish.

A step closer brings cool, iridescent skin to rest over the fine fabrics the women forced this child in today. The Lord Founder's touch speaks of understanding and acceptance; and the smile that blossoms on his face would distract from the miniscule twitch of his fingers as his palm had hovered over the bucket.

❝ That is alright, little Inosuke. You did your best and you looked like you were having fun to me, so that's all that matters. ❞ This benevolent man cares more about his poor suffering ward than the rewards, after all. Is he not a paradigm of unconditional love? Even when the child's loss has placed him into debt, he places a tender palm upon their shoulder and speaks kind words of encouragement to them.

What a kind-hearted man.

Dōma leans a little closer. Tufts of birch oak white brush over the boy's shoulder. There's the smell of incense and lotus blossom and he winks - with a smile Inosuke might find all too familiar. The smile he gives him when there's a question about jackals screaming in the woods late in the evening around the temple; or what all those pots in the room of Remembrance contain. But this time — for once, it's not about blood.

❝ Besides, I'm sure the people here would agree that your hands are as fast as the river current. ❞ A pause, to slightly tilt their visage towards those people. The audience concurs in silence. Because the topic of a troubled child is uncomfortable for them; to some, it elicits sympathy, while others would prefer to shy away from the notion. The sympathetic ones, Dōma counts on to agree with him and to take his side. The shepherd's crook will pull them swiftly back in line - and make them pliable and groom them into faith.

Because faith and doubt are opposing forces. And right now what he needs from this audience is to be believers.

❝ Hm? Oh— ❞ Thick brows furrow with a sudden discovery as the young man leans over the bucket catches a glimpse of his own reflection in the water. A notion of puzzlement crosses their features, that clawed palm still resting on Inosuke's shoulder, until it parts to point everyone's direction to the pond. ❝ Oy, stall-keeper! What about this one? ❞

There, in the bucket, a blue medaka fish flutters about vividly. Its naturally iridescent scales could have camouflaged it when all other goldfish were so vivid. Its fins sparkled so bright that, if one were to lean very, very close they might have thought it was made of crystal.

❝ That looks like a very fast fish. It's no wonder you children missed it. ❞ Dōma concurs with a pinch of his own chin and a perplexed pout; that almost comes across as a little sardonic. That lanky boy's father has already pushed his way closer to the bucket, peering in to attest - but it's not for their benefit. Because 'Aki' is soon grabbed by the wrist and forced closer to the pond to catch it, before the time runs out. The Lord Founder takes a step back and folds his hands under long sleeves.

"My son will catch this one as well! Show them, Aki!"

[heavenlywine]

"Good choice." It shall be seafood noodles then. "The corpse would have picked the same, I am sure." Akihito smiled extra pleasantly because he did actually know this for a fact, only that poor bloke never made it to dinner time.

"And you, chaotic one." He seized the other's bandaged wrist, feeling the structure of the bones underneath the fabric and flesh when he subtly tightened and loosened his grip. Akihito turned his head, slowly, so the lips pressed against his earlobe could slide across his cheek until they hovered very closely to his own. "Stop distracting the cook."

Then he pulled away. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to, otherwise this fucking meal which he had actually gone grocery shopping for would not happen. It would be a disservice to Aki's lazy nature to waste any amount of labor he was forced to undertake.

"Very few people find bleach romantic," he commented as he started chopping the seafood. Thanks to his daily life and restless spirit, this was the only part of cooking he was actually good at. "And it would hardly be fair, asking me to put it in your noodles when we haven't even gotten the chance to get to know each other." Aki sighed, feigning hurt. "You are behaving as if you don't want to see me again, and that makes me sad."

If anything, this one should request for bleach in his pancakes, for the morning after breakfast. That sounded a lot more fun.

WHILE HE DOES NOT RESIST BEING TURNED AWAY FROM THE RAILINGS , his disappointment makes itself evident in the form of an exhale ; shallow &. heavy , the noise of someone who had clearly been inconvenienced. ❝ well , that’s just a waste of a good patio ! how boring … ❞ he whines , hints of moody petulance seeping into a previously monotonous , confident tone of voice.

HIS EXPRESSION MOLDS INTO A POUT FOR A MERE SECOND , hardly noticeable before it fell into a look of admitted defeat. ❝ you do have a point , though. what good is a suicide that burdens another person ? silly me , that’s an amateur move ! ❞ really , he doesn’t know how he would manage in the afterlife if the poor old lady downstairs became inconvenienced with his death ! if only he could eradicate himself from the world without anyone noticing. a hookup’s apartment likely isn’t the best place to search for the end he so desperately seeks.

AS HE LISTENS to his host explain the extent of his culinary ability - which is still much grander than the detective himself could achieve - his face sheds the exterior of yet another mask. each expression he wears is artificial , every twitch of the mouth &. brightening of the eye. to better suit the mood , &. not wanting to irritate his new - found companion with a moping attitude , his facial features relax. there are no traces of the frown that sat upon his face seconds prior , only a small , easy - going smile accompanied by half - lidded pools of mahogany swirling with a sultry tint.

❝ look at you , so capable ! two whole dishes ? it must be my lucky day ! ❞ a wrist wrapped in cheap bandages extends outwards , thin fingers pressing gently against the other male’s chest. ❝ so hospitable. you know , i do wonder what the corpse would’ve picked … ❞ suddenly , his head ducks forward &. over aki’s shoulder. lips press against the lobe of his ear before a low - toned whisper follows the movement , ❝ i know just what i want , stranger - san. as long as you put bleach on-top of the noodles , okay ? ❞