#ic: 'if-it's-sunshine-and-daisies-i'll-provide-the-paradichlorobenzene!!'

[sixtymillionoverdueideas]

The blond lets out a breath, indigo eyes wide and startled as he stares up at the one holding him by the waist - and subsequently preventing him from toppling head first down the stairs. A glance behind him and at the landing far beneath them both has Yuuga shuddering ( mon dieu ) and he turns his attention back towards his savior, offering them a weak and shaky smile. "Th-thank you, truly. That would have been a very terrible way to end the day. You really saved me."

He'd rather not think about how it could have ended; a broken leg, neck, or arm, or even worse would not have been surprising. Another shiver ripples down Yuuga's spine and he makes a mental note to be more careful around stairs from now on.

“Ooh, better be careful, cutie~~” The upperclassman said glibly, holding Aoyama with ease as they grinned foxily at him. “You’re one of the cute Hero-coursers from the year-below, aren’t you~~?” He clicked his tongue, mirthful yellow-blue eyes wide as one corner of his mouth ticked up. Straightening him they dusted the shoulders of his uniform, when a sharp tssh came from their sides. Another student, (shorter) with a clip-board under his arm, levelled an unforgiving, critical gaze at the upperclassman -- despite seemingly blind with his pale, pupilless eyes. “Taiyō-sempai, why are you still toiling here? Don’t you have...” Nearly-white irises slanted, just barely edged with hydrangea blue. “...some place else to be...?”

[sixtymillionoverdueideas]

@miraismiles

“Sir Nighteye Hero Agency.” Wide blue, blue eyes took in the sleek, modern tower as Haruhi read off the business-card, standing in front of the door. “Hmm.”

They brushed some non-existent dust off the shoulder of their navy blue suit after slipping the card into their pockets -- t’was Haruhi’s first day and he was pretty sure they had this. Yes. 

He liked humor, didn’t he? He’d heard that. Haruhi strode in through the doors, already smiling. Well, Haruhi certainly could provide that...

[sixtymillionoverdueideas]

Dreams and Nightmares. [muse choice is yours~]

Muse: Taiyō Haruhi (Gekkeiju Hikōkai)

[-”Day 91″. The script is slanted, a scratchy scrawl on lined notebook paper - not even parallel to the lines, even. Rather, the words are aligned to an invisible line that dips down to the right corner. It was like the writer had purposefully used a ruler to write in a way contrary to the very purpose of the lines on the paper to begin with.]

“-It’s been three months now that I’ve been here. Don’t think the previous... uhh Haruhi. Man, it’s still weird to say that. Write that. Yeah, whatever. The previous Haruhi apparently was a little feral, so at least it wasn’t so weird when I went hecking bonkers and started doing whatever now that I knew that I could get away with whatever. Ma’s pretty cool, pretty chill for somebody whose son got snatched by a Body Imposter. Oops.”

“His wardrobe was soo dull though. Gag! All just collared dull shirts in sensible deep blue and white and he looked like a mini office-worker, no joke. Haruhi man you’ve gotta spice it up a little, you know? It’s good to see that at least the rest of his body isn’t so dull that we can’t eat Sunese pepper dishes though. Not that they have it here.”

There is a splotch of ink where their pen had apparently rested too long before the text picks up again.

“...I would have made them if it wasn’t that it’d be a little too out-of-character for this kid. Geez. This was a downer.”

“Oh, speaking of which, I had a weird dream last night.”

The following is a re-imagining in still-wet ink sketches that are blotted out the edges, and more slanted font.

“There was a Scorpion, and it deserved that capital S, you’ll see, and it was chasing me. Down these winding and tall canyon-walls like Kumo, like Kumo on a heavy-grey-cloud-laden sky, thunderin’ up above but no rain, no rain, no rain just yet the lighting was all dim and grey and that Scorpion was HUGE. Huge, lemme tell you. Pinchers the size of a good hound, like Hatake’s Uhei and you could ride onna these things, you know. Its carapace was a dull brown and it reminded me... of those children’s stories back in Suna, back in Suna when I was young, you know? I think it was the fact that I missed Sunese rice-soup last night. The Scorpion was chasing me, and I was running, running, down these canyon walls and oh it was thundering, it was thunderin’ and I’d looked back while running (something you should never do. For shame!) and there was a Chasm in front of me. It deserved that capital C too. I tripped.” The ink has pooled here too, a larger blotch before a sketch of a scorpion in silhouette upon a rocky cliff, illumined by un-colored white lightning. Another sketch on the opposite of the page, of a greyhound with curiously enough bandages wrapping the majority of its neck, and head. While the picture of the scorpion is heavily inked, the “sky” dark and the carapace gleaming with the lightning’s light, the other doodle is simply of the dog standing, a thin shadow under its feet. “The Scorpion was near me now and its pinchers were raised above its head. I opened my mouth.”

“Then I woke up. Man, almost went to grab a kunai- but with a coupla blinks I remembered. Where I was. Had my heart beatin’ and everything though!”

Wonder whether it meant anything?

[sixtymillionoverdueideas]

🧵 this can only end well

"REALLY?!" The extra-classing upperclassman lit up, clasping Midoriya’s outstretched hand with both of theirs- “It’d be fantastic! Come, come with me-” Their grip was firm, not so easy to shake out of as they pulled him behind them through the winding narrow path between all the Support Lab desks -- ducking around the other students as they worked on their own projects. Their hand was warm as they chattered greetings to various others as they passed them by in a rush of smoothly elegant but quick movement.

[sixtymillionoverdueideas]

💬 // Midoriya @ Taiyō Haruhi

"Hmm?" The blonde pulled out an earbud, lips curved up into a gentle smile. "What’d you need, Midoriya?" The double-classing older student’s other hand continued to work on whatever he was making, the ratchet-wrench gleaming as it was tossed up and down between fluid turns of their wrist.