#raw skate clips

[admiringlove]

[22:11] . . .

“shit, fushiguro, what the hell are you doing?”

you freeze, the words spilling out before you can stop them, startled by the sight of him at your window. he’s drenched, rain clinging to him like a second skin, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, beads of water tracing paths down his jaw. his hands are raised in mock surrender, like some guilty criminal caught mid-act. but there’s no malice in his eyes—just exhaustion and something raw, something unspoken that makes your chest ache.

you clutch the swiss knife in your hand, your grip tight and absurd now that you realize it’s him. fushiguro megumi, of all people, standing on your fire escape in the middle of a storm. he’s balancing on the slick metal, a miserable silhouette against the downpour, and you don’t know whether to laugh or yell.

“can you help me up?” he asks, voice flat but edged with something fragile, like he knows he has no right to be here. his fingers curl tighter on the windowsill, knuckles pale in the dim light. “i’m getting soaked.”

you narrow your eyes, refusing to make this easy for him. “you do realize you could’ve knocked on my door like a normal person instead of playing spider-man in a monsoon? you look like a wet cat.”

his lips twitch—almost a smirk, but it doesn’t quite land. “can you help me up or not?” he asks again, sharper this time, his patience eroding as his grip shifts.

you sigh, loud and deliberate, setting the knife down on your bedside table. “i don’t know. i’m still mad at you.”

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans, tilting his head back, rain streaking down his face. “not right now. just help me up, and we can talk.”

your arms cross over your chest, a barrier you refuse to lower. “you were mean,” you say, voice clipped. “i don’t know if i want to talk to you.”

he exhales, slow and heavy, the sound caught somewhere between irritation and resignation. “this is exactly why i didn’t come through the door like a normal person,” he mutters, half to himself.

your brows shoot up, sharp. “what was that?”

“i said,” he repeats, slower this time, each word dripping with sarcasm, “this is exactly why i didn’t come through the door like a normal person.”

“oh, so now you’re blaming me?” you throw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “this is exactly what i mean, megumi. first, you shut everyone out, acting all pissy and brooding like it’s your full-time job. and when someone tries to love you—god forbid—you get all pissy and sarcastic. and then, when you do screw up, instead of apologizing like a human being, you double down and make everything worse. every. single. time.”

his fingers slip slightly, and his grip tightens, his eyes narrowing. “so you’re saying i make you miserable,” he cuts in, voice low and biting, “while i’m hanging onto your window for dear fucking life? i could break, like, seven bones if i fall.”

“you’ll be fine,” you shoot back, waving him off. “your 'big feelings' will catch you.”

“that’s not fair,” he says, his tone skating dangerously close to a whine. “i didn’t mean it, okay? you’re not clingy, and i still love you.”

you stare at him, deadpan, unimpressed. “you say that every time, fushiguro. i’m not falling for it anymore.” a pause, and then you go for the jugular. “even gojo-sensei’s better at this emotional stuff.”

his expression twists, caught between offense and disbelief. “you’re comparing me to that idiot?”

“well, he did raise you. and look how you turned out.” you shrug, arms still crossed, daring him to make it worse.

he huffs, a sharp, humorless laugh breaking from his chest. “does that say more about him or me?”

oh. well, now, he has you stumped. you falter, the words catching in your throat. his response hangs there, heavy with a weight you didn’t expect. rain drums against the fire escape, and in the silence between you, it feels like the air shifts.

you notice, finally, how his shoulders slump under the weight of soaked fabric, how his usual sharpness is dulled into something quieter, something fragile. his hands tremble slightly, and you wonder if it’s from the cold or the effort of holding on. it’s hard to stay angry when he looks like this—half-drowned, half-contrite, wholly vulnerable.

you sigh again, softer this time, and extend your hand. “come inside before you catch pneumonia.”

his lips curve into the faintest smile, a flicker of relief breaking through the storm in his eyes as he reaches for you. the rain keeps falling, relentless and loud, but between you, the storm begins to still.

"and stand still!" you call out, the words sharper than you intend, a half-smile curving on your lips despite yourself. "i don’t want to mop up my entire dorm because of you."

there’s a pause, and megumi doesn’t respond. he doesn’t need to. he knows better than to argue. he just stands there, damp and dripping, his expression unreadable. he doesn’t move as you walk past him, head bent as you search through your closet, the air in the room thick with unspoken things. you pull out a cardboard box, old and battered, and set it down on the bed with a huff, the quiet sound of cardboard scraping against fabric the only noise in the room.

you begin to rummage through it, pulling out a white t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and a towel—his towel, the one you kept because it always smelled like him. you don’t meet his eyes as you hand him the towel, the fabric soft between your fingers, a strangely intimate reminder of him. he looks at you, wordlessly waiting for an explanation that you don’t offer. instead, you simply sit down on the bed, your back against the wall, eyes closed, pretending not to notice the weight of his gaze.

“i won’t look,” you murmur, your voice softer now, tinged with something like exhaustion. “just… dry off and wear these before you get sick.”

“okay,” he says, his voice quieter than usual, and you hear him shift, the sound of wet fabric against skin as he changes. he doesn’t say anything else, and you don’t open your eyes, focusing on the gentle movement of your thumbs, the small, almost rhythmic action that calms you. the silence in the room is filled with so much that words would only ruin it.

you hear him fumbling with the towel, the dry fabric against his damp hair, and something about the ordinary intimacy of it pulls at you. it’s strange, being here like this—on opposite ends of the room, with so much space between you both. but still… so close.

“why are all my things in this box?” his voice finally breaks the quiet, sharp with curiosity, tinged with something you can’t place.

you exhale softly, the weight of your own thoughts pressing heavy against your ribs. you keep your eyes closed, your lips tight. “i’m giving it back to you,” you say, your voice strangely calm. “you’re the one who said i take too much of your ‘shit,’ and try to smother you. so take all your ‘shit,’ megumi. keep it. keep your space. away from me.”

there’s a soft rustle of fabric as he finishes changing, and for a moment, neither of you speak. you can feel the shift in the air, the subtle way things have changed, irreversibly, between you. you know he’s looking at the box. you know what he’s seeing.

he picks up the first frame, the edges worn from years of handling. the photo inside catches his eye, and for a moment, you almost want to stop him. but you don’t. you keep your eyes shut, your heart a hollow thrum beneath your ribs.

it’s a photo of the three of you. megumi, you, and gojo—your faces frozen in time from a day you’d all spent together. the sunlight was soft then, filtering through the trees, and you were perched on gojo’s shoulders, hands tangled in his messy hair, laughing so freely you thought you might burst. megumi, of course, had been on gojo’s other shoulder, scowling in the way he always did, a lollipop stuck between his lips to silence the world’s noise as he tried to make sense of the chaos around him.

the smile on your face was as wide as the horizon, and even now, you can still remember the way you’d felt—so effortlessly happy, so full of life, in a way that doesn’t seem possible now.

he stares at the photo for a long time, his fingers brushing the glass gently, almost reverently, as if trying to hold onto something that’s slipping away.

there are more pictures, more reminders of you both—of everything you’ve shared. letters, birthday cards, books you’d both laughed over, and others that felt more personal, more like promises you never got the chance to keep. the box, once full of mundane things, is now filled with the soft evidence of what had been, of what he’s going to lose.

he looks up from the box, and his gaze drifts toward the wall next to your bed, the empty space where the pictures once hung. the space you’d cleared, and it’s so painfully obvious now why you’d done it. you’d taken them down because of him, because of what you felt, or rather, what you didn’t feel anymore. he doesn’t need to ask why.

“you were right,” he says softly, his voice hesitant, like he’s testing the waters, unsure of how far he can go. “i made you feel like i didn’t love you anymore.”

you don’t say anything for a long time, the weight of his words hanging between you both. there’s a tenderness in his tone, something unspoken but clear as day. it’s hard to breathe with the words lingering in the space, but you finally open your eyes. you meet his gaze, and in that moment, everything shifts, just slightly, as though the tension that has stretched between you both is finally beginning to unravel.

“it wasn’t your fault,” you murmur, the words slow but steady, as if you’re reminding yourself more than him. “it's okay if you don't want me around anymore. just don't be mean about it, and i'll catch on.”

he doesn’t speak. he just looks at you—his gaze searching, like he’s trying to find the pieces of what was broken, wondering if they can ever fit back together. and for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t look away.

you let the silence stretch, comfortable and heavy, and you don’t need words to know that it’s not over. not yet. you’re both still standing in the wreckage, but maybe, just maybe, there’s room to rebuild something here.

"i didn’t say i don’t want you around," he tries, his voice faltering, unsure of how to bridge the gap between the words he wished he could take back and the ones that had already left him. it’s all he can do now—say something, anything, to make the air less heavy, less unbearable. but as his words hang there, your laughter cuts through it, incredulous. you look at him, eyes narrowed, disbelief clouding your features.

"if i remember correctly, that’s exactly what you said."

he freezes, the words bouncing off you, back into the space between you both, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the silence and the bitter sting of what’s been said. he opens his mouth to protest, but the words crumble before they can even form.

"no, i didn’t!" he protests, his tone rising a little, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. "you kept saying things about me, about how i fight like it’s my last time, about me being mean to gojo-sensei—"

you scoff, a humorless laugh slipping out before you can stop it. "you do fight like it’s your last time, megumi. every single time. and you are mean to gojo-sensei. telling him he's not your father when he's the one who raised you was downright horrible," your eyes narrow at him, each word a slow burn, a careful sharpening of the edge you thought you’d put down. "what exactly are you trying to get at here?"

his gaze drops, hands running through his wet hair in frustration, the action almost mechanical. he sighs, the sound heavy, like it carries more weight than it should. "i’m just saying… you kept saying things about me that i didn’t want to admit were true." his voice cracks, just barely, and for a moment, you see the flicker of vulnerability that he’s so often quick to hide. "and that… that made me mad. so i said things i didn’t mean."

there’s a long pause, the tension thick, and you stare at him, your pulse quickening. your gaze softens, but only just. "you’re old enough to control your tongue, even if you're hurt," you say, your voice firm but with an underlying quiet that’s a strange kind of soothing. "i was trying to help you, fushiguro. you had a gash on your stomach, and i was stitching it. what else was i supposed to say? 'go kill yourself'? 'go crazy, go stupid'?"

his breath catches, a ragged sound as if your words have hit somewhere he wasn’t ready to confront. "that’s not what i—" he cuts himself off with a frustrated exhale, the words not coming out right. he’s tired, you can hear it in his voice, tired of explaining, tired of fighting against the truth that both of you already know.

his gaze lifts, meeting yours with something softer this time—familiar, almost desperate. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, the apology thick with everything unsaid, everything he’s never been able to voice. and there it is. the fragile thread between you, stretching, fraying at the edges, but still holding on.

you don’t say anything for a long while, just looking at him—really looking at him—as if seeing him for the first time. you know what he’s trying to say, what he’s trying to admit. it’s not about the words. it’s never really been about the words. it’s about the space between them.

"you’re not alone in this," you finally whisper, your voice steady, but there’s a warmth in it now. "i know you. i’ve always known you. so has sensei."

"yeah, but you judge me for it," he says, his voice raw, steady, like he's finally gathered the courage to say what he’s been holding back. he locks his gaze with yours, and for the first time, there’s no avoiding it—the weight of the words hanging between you. "you judge me for liking it. you judge me for wanting to fight."

you blink, trying to catch your breath, a sharp edge of disbelief cutting through the knot in your chest. "where exactly are you getting this bullshit information?" you ask, the words coming out harsher than you intended. "i don’t judge you for wanting to do things you’re good at. i judge you when you get hurt." your voice falters slightly, a tremor that betrays the calm you’re trying to hold onto. "do you know how scared i was when gojo-sensei called me and told me you were hurt? i couldn't fucking breathe, megumi! i thought... i thought i was the one who was gonna die."

the air seems to shift, a pause between you that carries more weight than the silence should. his pupils widen just slightly, like he's seeing you for the first time, or maybe like he’s never seen you quite this way before. his lips part, but no words come out. he takes a slow step forward, and for some reason, you don’t pull away. there’s no barrier left between you now—not physically, at least.

he sits down next to you, his body close, his back leaning against the wall, and for a moment, you’re both frozen in the quiet. his shoulder brushes yours, and the contact feels more real than anything has in a long time. your heart beats a little faster in your chest, like it’s reminding you it’s still there, still alive, still holding on. you let out a long breath, heavy with everything unspoken.

"i don't ever want to lose you," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. and when they do, they feel like a confession—like a weight you hadn’t even known you were carrying. "even if you don't love me."

his face softens, and you feel him shift, his presence growing heavier in the space between you. he doesn't speak immediately, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far, if you’ve revealed too much, but then he says it. softly, like a prayer.

"i do love you," he says, and there’s a quiet certainty in the way his voice cracks. he closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall, as if the admission is a weight he’s been carrying too. "i’m never gonna stop."

you scoff, though it’s a hollow sound, more resigned than mocking. "you sure have a funny way of showing it," you murmur, the words barely a whisper, like they’re too fragile to be said out loud.

he turns to you then, his eyes meeting yours with a depth that stops you in your tracks. there’s no barrier anymore, nothing between you. not even the past. his gaze softens, and for the first time, you realize that what’s in his eyes is something you never expected to see: regret, apology, but most of all, love.

you don’t say anything. there’s too much left unsaid, and maybe that’s all you can give him now. silence, and the space to understand. the air between you is thick with it—unsaid words and all the things you’ve never been able to express, not fully. you sit there, avoiding his gaze, eyes lowered, fingers twisting in your lap. it’s as if you’re scared—scared of saying the wrong thing, scared of the way you might break if you say too much.

but he sees you. truly sees you.

he reaches for your hand then, tentative, like he's unsure whether you’ll pull away. when you don’t, he intertwines his fingers with yours, gentle, the touch almost shy in its sincerity. "i’m sorry i have a shitty way of showing i love you," he murmurs, the apology thick with the weight of everything he can’t put into words.

you don’t reply immediately, not trusting yourself to speak without cracking. instead, you sit there—just breathing, just being. the moments stretch out between you, heavy with everything both of you have been holding back. and you realize, then, that maybe this, right here, is enough. just this moment of him holding your hand, just this one step closer, is enough.

because all he wants now is to make sure you’re still there. make sure you won’t leave his side.

and you... you don’t want to leave either.

you lean your head against his shoulder, the weight of it feeling more like a promise than an accident. it’s as if, for just a moment, all the tension in your body can dissipate, settling into the rhythm of his breath, the quiet hum of the world outside. the room feels smaller, but in a way that makes it safer, like this tiny bubble where the rest of everything—everything that’s hurt, everything that’s unsaid—can stay out. there’s a warmth to the touch of his body against yours, something real and solid in a world that’s felt too fragmented for too long. his thumb brushes over the back of your hand, gentle, almost absentminded, but it’s the kind of touch that says everything: i’m here.

you feel it in the way his body shifts ever so slightly, like he’s anchoring you in a way only he knows how to. and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself rest in that comfort, in that certainty, no matter how fleeting it might be. the air around you is thick with everything unspoken, but the space between you feels like it’s been bridged, like the distance that once seemed so insurmountable isn’t as wide anymore. the quiet stretches on, peaceful, before you finally speak, your voice soft and a little uncertain, like it’s unsure how to follow the fragile peace between you two.

"you should apologize to gojo-sensei, too," you murmur, your words carrying more weight than they should, like it’s the last piece of a puzzle you need to solve before you can both move forward. "he doesn't deserve that. he's pretty much our dad."

he’s quiet for a beat, the sound of his thumb still grazing the skin of your hand, before he shifts slightly, a breath of a laugh escaping his lips. it’s light, but there’s something heavy beneath it, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

"yeah?" he asks, and when he tilts his head against yours, the movement feels almost like a surrender, like he’s finally letting himself be vulnerable in a way he hasn’t in a long time. you feel the shift in him, a softening that pulls you closer, that makes you realize just how long you’ve both been carrying things you shouldn’t have been. "it’s gonna hurt my ego..." his voice trails off, a little teasing, but it’s also real, like he’s letting you see the part of him that he doesn’t usually show—the one that’s afraid of admitting when he’s wrong. you look up at him, your gaze catching his, and you can’t help the slight raise of your eyebrows, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"oh, i’m sure it will," you reply, the words laced with a quiet affection, a softness that you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in so long. you pause for a moment, before adding, "but you’ll do it, right?"

he exhales slowly, like he’s letting go of something deep inside of him, the exhale almost as long as the silence that lingers between you. and then, with a faint, almost reluctant chuckle, he says, "but i’ll do it."

you breathe a sigh of relief at the simplicity of it all, at how easy it feels to give and take forgiveness, even when it’s hard. maybe that’s the trick—maybe it’s not about having all the answers or solving everything right away. maybe it’s just about taking the first step, even if it’s a small one. you can feel the change in him, in the way he doesn’t just say the words but lives them in that moment. he means it.

"you better," you say softly, a teasing edge to your words, but the sincerity is unmistakable. and you find yourself leaning into him more, if only just a little, as if the distance between you shrinks just a bit more, as if the space between the two of you is finally filling with something warm and real.

and as you rest there, nestled against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, it’ll all be okay. the thought lingers, soft like the gentle brush of his thumb across your skin. because sometimes, it’s not about fixing everything all at once. sometimes, it’s just about being here, in this moment, with him, and knowing that even if the world outside is still uncertain, you’ve found a way to stay close. and that, you think, is enough for now.

a/n: once read this fic by @sttoru and i really wanted to write smth about it from gumi's perspective. so here it is. it's been sitting in my drafts for a very, very long time.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[heelmarcus]

Marcus Alford Stream | Episode 8122024 | Skating in Detroit

Marcus is dealing with a sore ankle so he’s going to take it easy today. More NHL 24 while chatting during WWE Raw. Twitchiversary VIAugust 14th View this post on Instagram A post shared by Marcus Alford (@marcusalford) Full Stream Show On Twitch Latest Clip @marcusalford #duet with @5BOROUGHFOODIE #Cheese #greenscreen OH MY GOD!!!! ♬ Kendrick Lamar i am reincarnated – Music…

[zaner210]

Skateboarding Infiltrated!!!

I’ll try to write this as close to I did a few weeks ago when I was on one.

the main stream skate INdustry is so lame!! They should be embarrassed and anyone that has a say in it!

When I was younger starting skating; graphics, the company’s and pros were raw, original, unique, provocative, edgy and artistic. Mostly against the system. Now everything is perfectly aligned with mainstream agendas and narrative! the whole INdustry has been infiltrated, and all these companies are bought out! Here’s a few ideas I have to further the sell out of skateboarding!! And better the pay for the pros in the INdustry.

We can start recruiting for the next war…Have a new career in the US Military for all branches that will be a special skateboarding position! Not only can you skate for your favorite branch you can serve your country! This will be a coveted career in the armed forces possibly exceeding Spec Ops! And will have a huge signing bonus! There will be a skill test required that will be judged by someone from the Berrics or some pro or “pro am” (that one’s an oxymoron). You will still have to go to basic training but once complete you will skate around the country and world for the US Military! And if you get called to war you will be skating all the spots in the war zone getting shots and clips! Hazard duty pay always applies and some of these Skate Soldiers will be more recognized than top pros. Go from a nobody skater to a real pro and GI Joe! *you could also change warfare… other countries will catch on and instead of regular war techniques it will be played out with games of SKATE*

Include pro skateboarders as campaign advertising for the next presidential election! Red and Blue….2 wings of the same bird! Let’s get the top pros to ride for their favorite political party! We can get it started for the next election! Will be great innovation!

Have pros ride for mainstream news networks; FOX, CNN MSNBC…. Etc. all deck graphics will continue to be approved by the Ministry of Love and Truth!

[thedancemostofall]

susan sontag’s likes, dislikes

(Note: this list was published in the second installment of her collected journals here.)

Things I like: fires, Venice, tequila, sunsets, babies, silent films, heights, coarse salt, top hats, large long-haired dogs, ship models, cinnamon, goose down quilts, pocket watches, the smell of newly mown grass, linen, Bach, Louis XIII furniture, sushi, microscopes, large rooms, ups, boots, drinking water, maple sugar candy.

Things I dislike: sleeping in an apartment alone, cold weather, couples, football games, swimming, anchovies, mustaches, cats, umbrellas, being photographed, the taste of licorice, washing my hair (or having it washed), wearing a wristwatch, giving a lecture, cigars, writing letters, taking showers, Robert Frost, German food.

Things I like: ivory, sweaters, architectural drawings, urinating, pizza (the Roman bread), staying in hotels, paper clips, the color blue, leather belts, making lists, Wagon-Lits, paying bills, caves, watching ice-skating, asking questions, taking taxis, Benin art, green apples, office furniture, Jews, eucalyptus trees, pen knives, aphorisms, hands.

Things I dislike: Television, baked beans, hirsute men, paperback books, standing, card games, dirty or disorderly apartments, flat pillows, being in the sun, Ezra Pound, freckles, violence in movies, having drops put in my eyes, meatloaf, painted nails, suicide, licking envelopes, ketchup, traversins [“bolsters”], nose drops, Coca-Cola, alcoholics, taking photographs.

Things I like: drums, carnations, socks, raw peas, chewing on sugar cane, bridges, Dürer, escalators, hot weather, sturgeon, tall people, deserts, white walls, horses, electric typewriters, cherries, wicker / rattan furniture, sitting cross-legged, stripes, large windows, fresh dill, reading aloud, going to bookstores, under-furnished rooms, dancing, Ariadne auf Naxos.

[ronsonlambert]

Greet The Spot! Learn A Trick - Skateboarding

Channeling my inner Rodney Mullen - Ever since Rodney Mullen vs. Daewon Song Round .1, 2, 3, all came out. I had always been inspired by those videos and the first time seeing Rodney do this trick, i've been wanting to learn it ever since..

#Skateboarding #RawClip #RonsonLambert

[powellperaltaskateboards]

Charlie Blair and Landon Belcher battle Mother Nature while everyone else at the session enjoys the show.Watch more here http://bit.ly/PowellPeraltaRawClips

*Powell-Peralta Flight Decks are not unbreakable or waterproof and we do not suggest using them in the water or snow. That being said, they do not get as soggy as a 7-Ply skateboard in the rain and they are also much more durable. Grab one from your local skate shop and experience the supreme performance.

[leorawright]

Tf2 Masterlist 6

Mercs figuring out you wanted a nuclear weapon as a child

Mercs finding out you're a Mafia bosses kid

Mercs with s/o who's a s*** post generator

Soldier's s/o coming home after a long trip

Mercs with s/o who has a cute accent

Mercs with s/o who can transform inti a giant wolf

Mercs with lucky s/o

Medic meeting Scout's dentist (a.k.a Medics new crush)

Mercs finding out their s/o is Merasmus's adopted kid

Mercs with s/o who crochets

Mercs with s/o who's afraid to ask for affection

Mercs with s/o who hates public speaking

Mercs with s/o who doesn't like to be touched

Mercs with s/o who can bend different elements

Mercs with s/o who has an army of crows

Mercs having a crush on the enemy Medic

Mercs with s/o who's terrifed on Santa

Mercs figuring out their s/o owns a three legged cat named Yardstick

How the mercs get flustered

Mercs going on a mission with an enemy team member

Mercs with a crush on the enemy Medic 2

Demo cuddling hc's

Angsty tf2 hc's 2

Medic with s/o who's a crime scene cleaner

Mercs reaction to a kiss cam

Mercs reaction to their s/o cupping their face

Medic defending his crush at a bar

Mercs and s/o going to a roller skating rink

Demo with abroromantic s/o

Mercs with s/o who has trypanophobia

Demo and Pauling with s/o who has social anxiety

Mercs finding a monster in the vents

Demo with s/o who has anxiety about life being a simulation

Mercs with Addams Family s/o part 2

Mercs with s/o who likes Medic's experiments

Mercs reaction to their crush confessing through song

Mercs with nerdy s/o

Mercs with s/o who daydreams a lot

Mercs reaction to their crush kissing them out of adrenaline

Mercs figuring out s/o is the Administrator's kid

Mercs with friend who's a jack of all trades

Sleepy cuddles with mercs

Mercs with s/o who's always sober

Mercs with florist crush

Mercs with s/o who's been conditioned to cry silently

Mercs with s/o who has chronic depression

Mercs with s/o who works at an animal shelter

Mercs with s/o who has bad tooth pain

Mercs finding their s/o in their hometown

Mercs s/o reaction to merc speaking their mother language

Mercs coming to their s/o's home in the Philippines

Mercs dating the Administrator's kid part 2

Mercs with so who confesses while drunk

Mercs with Na'vi s/o

Mercs crushing on Medic's older sibling

Mercs reaction when Addams Family s/o proposes

Mercs with Mafia s/o part 2

My favorite characters with a crush

Sniper with s/o who's surprisingly strong

Mercs crush helping them during a humiliation round

Sniper with s/o who has a double trombone/sniper rifle

Mercs finding s/o (Administrator's kid) after they ran away

Mercs with a selkie s/o

Mercs with s/o who lost the ability to walk in the military

Mercs with edgy reader who has a ton of plushies

Mercs with s/o who's like a dragon person

Sniper with crow hybrid s/o

Mercs with reader who looks human but is eldritch in nature

Sniper with s/o who knows they're a fictional character

Scout with reader who defected from the Grey Manns army and sees Scout as a brother

Mercs with trypanophobic s/o who has to get a shot

Soldier and s/o getting snowed in

Scout finding his middle child sibling who was forgotten

Medic with fluff prompts 1 and 3

Mercs with fluff prompts 1 and 5

Mercs with s/o who takes them shark diving without the cage

Mercs with an Irish s/o

Mercs with s/o who looks emo and listens to metal

Sniper with fluff prompt 11

Mercs with so who scratches their arms raw

Scout with angst prompt 4

Sniper with angst prompt 6

Scout with angst prompt 4 part 2

Soldier finding reader's dying wish, to confess

Medic with angst prompts 12 and 20

Mercs with stressed s/o

Mercs with so who's basically invincible

Mercs with s/o who makes jokes that only make sense to them

Mercs seeing their crush dressed up for a mission

Medic with s/o who can't feel pain

Mercs with s/o who clips into the backrooms

Sniper with s/o who's very good at hunting

Mercs finding out Soldier has a sibling

Mercs with s/o who's like Scorpion from Mortal Kombat

Mercs with s/o who's a picky eater

Mercs with so who likes words of affirmation and physical touch

Characters reaction to you asking what they'd do if you disappeared

Medic with s/o who's a birdkeeper

Tf2 with s/o who got caught up in everything

Medic being jealous of his crush hanging out with Sniper

[xokiddo]

Melting Point (WIP Preview)

—Levi Ackerman/Reader. —You're partnered with Levi in this season's pair skating tournament while both of your regular partners are out for the count. Even though training has been difficult for you to connect outside of technical points, you both come together in your free program to see how deep that spark truly runs.

—Content Warning: None. —Word Count: 1.4k —Author's Note: So this is a result of watching Yuri On Ice clips while sick with my son (he loves the music in it + it's animated lol), and having an itch to write for Levi. I'm debating turning this into a proper oneshot but I'm juggling my asks and WIPs that have been neglected so enjoy the burst of inspired creativity I had today lol. Also also, I definitely used clips of Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue skating as references for some moves lol.

Your names are announced as the next pair to skate, and you share a final look at the edge of the rink. 

“You have this,” Levi tells you once, which catches you off guard. He isn’t one for verbal encouragement, but the earnest look in his eyes is startling.

He puts his hand on the small of your back, guiding you onto the ice. You circle half the rink once, trying to quell the last of your nerves as you stop in the center, meeting Levi. You turn so your back-to back, tilting your head back so you’re resting against his shoulder, finding his hands and interlacing your fingers partially.

Your heart is racing.

You have this.

The music begins.

You separate, only a few strides away as you both are instantly in character, doing easy moves at the start to build momentum. Two lovers, fighting to be together against all odds, striving for their love to conquer all obstacles.

When you turn, facing him, he’s doing the same. His hair falls across his eyes, but when he skates toward you, it billows back. You let yourself admire him for a beat before you flank him, running through the routine in your head, all the tricks and moves lined up.

You hated that you two were so in sync, defying your promise you made to yourself at the start of the season.

That you wouldn’t be another skater who fell for Levi Ackerman.

Shoving the thought out of mind, you refocus on the music.

Your feet move on muscle memory, keeping you in pace with Levi beside you, your arms moving delicately as you both build speed. He reaches for you first, his fingers finding yours without even a glance, inching to your wrist to grab you. You let him pull you in, the pair of you circling through the curve of the rink, and your eyes meet. 

He’s always unguarded on the ice, raw emotions painted in his steely gaze. 

You lift your other hand to touch his cheek for a fleeting second, and he tilts his head into your palm in the same motion. Just as quickly, you let him turn you around, facing away from him, and he lifts you as you push up, tossing you into the air—you feel weightless as you spin, arms tucked in, and perhaps to Levi you are weightless. He’s always been so strong with corded muscles hidden beneath his skating clothes, all long sleeves and leggings, hardly giving a glance of the sculpted musculature underneath.

You land on one skate, stretching your arms out elegantly as you smile.

The corner of Levi’s lips are curled up.

He wants to act like you’re a nuisance when you’re in practice, but you know better. 

This program confirms it for you.

You reach for his hand this time, and he’s already seeking you out with his own. His hands are rough, palms uneven with calluses fresh and old, but you wouldn’t trust any other hands to hold you the way he does. 

You’re lifted above his head in a split, held up by your hands locked with his, and then you gracefully roll down his torso, somersaulting with your legs extended until you touch the ice again.

Your old partner would talk to you subtly during a program, his lips hardly moving as he asked if you were good or if you wanted to change an axel to a flip. Levi doesn’t, though—he doesn’t have to.

The two of you do a brief choreography run, spinning separately, and you find yourself keeping up easily. He’s always been the best one with spins, so much so it’s almost unreal, but even though you can’t spot him during your spins, you’re confident that you’re moving in time with him.

When you slow, you find your grounding as you resume the program, knowing the end is approaching. 

Levi comes along your side, your hands joining. He pulls you back in, the pair of you skating with your back to his chest, and his hands find your waist. 

“You have this,” he murmurs in your ear, his breath hot on your skin as he repeats his earlier encouragement.

A shiver runs down your spine, but not in anticipation of the last move coming up.

You turn to face him, and his face is full of resolve.

He lifts you, throws you above his head as you push off, spinning. 

You’re flying. 

His hands, which went to his sides, are again at your waist as he catches you, just as yours are in the air, trusting him entirely to guide you back on the ice. 

He does. 

A faint grin is on his lips, and you know you landed it—a quad twist—and you beam.

The end of the song is nearing with you and Levi approaching the center of the ice, spinning together twice, three times, until you slow to a stop with one arm draped over Levi’s shoulders as he dips you. You finishing pose is him holding you in that dip, his forehead touching yours, noses brushing. 

The crowd cheers, and you can feel your muscles strain from holding the pose, but then Levi speaks just loud enough for you to hear him over the applause. 

“Perfection.”

You’re already breathing shallowly, but the single word of praise from Levi knocks the air from you. Luckily, he brings you both to stand, effortless despite the way he’s also breathing raggedly. 

You look around the rink, and people have tossed flowers and stuffed animals on the rink. You cover your mouth in shock at the support, and Levi takes one of your hands in his. His expression is beginning to grow more guarded again, now that the program is done, but you see the fondness still there. 

“Come on,” he nods toward the kiss and cry. “Lets hear our score.”

You nod, not trusting your voice, and you head toward the edge of the rink to step off.

Erwin is there, pride written clearly across his whole body.

“That was amazing,” he boasts, arms extended for you both. Levi dodged the hug, dropping your hand once you’re off the ice, but you let Erwin envelop you in his infamous bear hug. “Hange’s grabbing your skate guards—go, let’s go—“

You’re ushered to the kiss and cry, and in a rare gesture of public affection, Levi wraps his arm around you, pulling you flush to his side. You’re both sweaty, but he’s so warm that you can focus on that instead of the way your heart is hammering. 

Levi is nervous, too, if the way his fingers are digging into your ribs is anything to go off of. You don’t mind, since you put your hand on his thigh and you’re doing the same to his leg. Erwin is on Levi’s other side, a long arm reaching around both of your backs as you all wait with baited breath.

The score is read, and your jaws fall open—a record-breaking score in the 120s, giving the pair of you a combined score of over 200 points.

Your gaze snaps to Levi, who’s smiling from ear-to-ear. Erwin is squeezing you both.

You’re so thrown off by both men being so affectionate and emotive that you find yourself acting without thinking; you lean in to kiss Levi on the cheek, but he shifts, and you catch his lips with yours. You freeze when you feel chapped lips on your own, but he doesn’t—he puts force behind it, a hand flying to your cheek to hold you in place.

It’s quick, and chaste, but it happens.

Erwin’s arm on you both tightens, but you don’t look at him, or the cameras, or anywhere but Levi.

“What—“ you can’t begin to form a coherent though when you pull away, your face hot and Levi’s own ears pink as you regard one another, adrenaline still high from your win.

“I meant what I said,” he tells you, a small line forming between his eyebrows as he implores you to understand. 

Perfection.

Did he mean…

You?

Erwin is saying something, but you tune him out, and you think Hange has arrived and is speaking but you don’t listen to them either. 

All you can think to do is kiss Levi once more, hoping it won’t be the last time you can before the tournament season is over. 

[books-of-the-great-leviathan]

Chapter 16- Ziva

***

Ziva was fourteen the first time she saw the throne room of Pavaloir Tower. Then, she'd knelt on the red carpet, covered in sweat and the blood of the last Witchhunter hopeful she'd beat in the bloodpit. Her head had ached from the ring of blade to blade and the impact of her opponent's sword against her light wooden shield, already scarred white from the past nine trials.

Her victory was the tenth. She'd beaten the rest, left them kicking in the sand, holding hamstrung legs and shattered wrists, their screams mingling with the roar of the crowd. The last boy was some years older than Ziva, a strapping lord's son, all curls and white teeth. He'd come at her like a hurricane, lunging through the dust, sword raised to hack down into her neck. Ziva was smaller, quicker. He'd learned to fight in the practice yard. She'd learned to kill in the slums of Pavaloir with cunning and broken glass. The dust clouds were her cloak, his weight his enemy. She'd ducked and sprang up again behind him, darting under strike after strike.

She couldn't dodge forever. One of his blows clipped her shield. It shattered, struck off her arm. The sun beat down, and Ziva's mouth tasted of death. His death, as it turned out. She'd stepped past his next slash and opened him collarbones to groin, a strike that spilled intestines from him in glistening pink-gray ropes.

Carrion birds circled under the sun, and the stench of blood rippled the air, a physical force. The boy choked; red spurted from his mouth as he'd tried to hold his guts in. He failed, and fell to his knees in a clangor of bronze armor and loosed breath.

Ziva had looked up, far past the endless sea of filled stands, all the way to the scarlet canopy high above. Flags snapped in the hot wind. Sand skated off Ziva's armor as she waited for the young king to give the signal.

He'd raised his hand, an arrow against the hard blue sky.

The boy panted, his head lowered, knees sunk in a pool of his own blood.

He'd die anyway. No alchemy could save him from what Ziva had done. Still, she felt the downward slash of the king's hand like it was a blow to her heart. She touched the hilt of the plain knife strapped to her thigh, the last gift her father had given her, the last gift he'd ever give. She drew it, and the sun caught the clean mirror of its flat edge, blinding her. It was sharp. It was kind. It would do.

"I'm sorry," she'd whispered, but did not know if the boy heard her.

The crowd roared as she'd set her knife to the boy's throat. A clean slash, a red arc. He'd been hopeful like her. Bellana knew what he must have lost to drive him here.

But Ziva had lost, too.

Now for the first time since the plague had stolen her family and Estara's strength, she could stand- not as refugee, not as orphan, not as survivor scraping graves from barren earth, but triumphant. Five years she'd fought to stand in Pavaloir's arena, at the feet of kings and gods. So she'd stood, and she'd raised her knife, and the sun struck wet red off it, like Bellana herself had reached down to bathe it in light.

It was no longer clean, but neither was she, and there was no going back now.

Palace guards brought her to the throne room. It was full of military officials, courtiers, aristocrats, but Ziva paid them no mind. The walls were black stone rising sheer and unadorned to a high vaulted ceiling. Vast stained-glass windows displayed the chronicles of the gods, though Sky-Queen Bellana, armored in white, reigned supreme. Her long black hair streamed behind her like a flag, her flaming sword raised high. She conquered the beasts of the deep oceans, the trickster monsters struck down by bolts of fire and lightning. Bellana's armies followed at her heels, parting the the maelstroms of pagan gods that had reigned in primordial darkness, before her light brought order to the seas.

The throne loomed from its dais, carved from a single raw jut of volcanic stone. Ziva had knelt before it, her head bowed, overwhelmed. She'd never felt power like this. Ibaris, the largest but most remote of Estara's three sister isles, was a frontier of sun-seared mountain and dust storms that crackled with blue lightning, barren scree and towns peopled with ghosts, mines gaping like hungry mouths in the red earth. Ziva, daughter of miners who'd been sons of miners, had believed her father's assurances that no plague could reach them, that their remoteness was what would spare them while the rest of Estara succumbed.

His assurances were useless, Ziva's nightly prayers moreso. The Black Lung stole in on supply wagons and cargo ships nevertheless. She'd come back from the well to the rasping coughs of her elder sister and knew her prayers had not been enough. Ziva's family became ghosts, too, nothing left of them but her memories and five cairns of loose stones swiftly covered by the next dust storm.

There was nothing left for her there, and, kneeling in shafts of golden light at the feet of kings, she knew this was how she would make Lapide answer for how it had abandoned them.

Do you swear by the light of Bellana to serve Estara?

The king's voice rang like a bronze bell, filling the hall with echoes. Ziva pressed her fist over her heart.

I swear.

Do you swear by the wrath of Bellana to destroy all who might stand against your nation?

Her fingers tightened, a knot of pain at the core of her fist. I swear.

Do you swear by the mercy of Bellana to do for Estara what must be done, at any cost, at any sacrifice?

She hurt, she hurt, all her wounds at once, but still her voice held strong.

I swear.

Through blood and trials you are anointed, King Daval Belmont had proclaimed. Rise, Witchhunter.

He was the most beautiful man Ziva had ever seen, fire in his eyes, Bellana's light glinting off his black curls. He stood with one hand on the throne, the other on the sword at his side, red half-cloak falling to the dais like a sheet of blood. At his right hand stood Severin Azare, a shadow to the young king's sun. At Daval's left was Queen Margaux. She'd worn high-necked red velvet, a ruff of dark fox-fur at her throat framing the elegant lines of her face. Her features were just visible through the fine sapsilk of her veil. Only peasant girl nobodies like Ziva could join Estara's armies; noble ladies of Estara went publicly veiled, and the queen was noble as they came. She'd been with child then, fingertips poised on the gentle swell of her stomach.

Azare had caught Ziva's eyes, and a shiver passed through her, cold despite the burn in her muscles. This was the Royal Witchhunter. This was who had chosen her- her, out of so many hopefuls. Her, chosen to fight the other recruits, to leave them crying out in a bath of blood and sand.

She'd held his gaze, refusing to back down or look away. He'd lowered his head: a single, sharp nod. His approval was enough to make her forget her wounds and exhaustion. It had been enough then.

Time would tell if it was enough now.

***

Twenty years later, all were gathered once more. Only the queen was gone. Azare stood at Ziva's side, and the king sat his throne. It jutted in blade crags over his head, silhouetted by the enormous window of Bellana behind him. The goddess's face stared down over the hall, her eyes the blue-white of lightning, merciless and cruel.

"Lapide," Daval said, "is breaking."

His hand, as then, was on his sword. The hilt glinted as Daval shifted forward, leaning off the edge of the throne. No comfortable thing, the Estaran throne- no leather to pad it, nothing but the glass-slick stone sat by nine hundred years of Belmont kings.

"My eyes in Lapide sent word," Daval went on. "They've misplaced their prince, and with him, Princess Cereza."

"What?" Azare's eyes were narrowed.

"Prince Luca Valere abducted his sister and your assassin and left Lapide in a ship of his own design two nights ago. It seems their queen can't keep her whelps in line as well as she thinks." "Why would this news not come to me? Did you intercept the message?" Azare strode into the pool of light at the base of the dais. "I need to know all information that enters Estara-"

"Don't presume to school me on duty," Daval said. He stood, cloak pooling round his feet, edged in fox-fur and heavy with silver embroidery in the shape of Bellana's lightning. "They mean to hunt gods, Severin. They mean to break the knife's curse at the source."

"The Great Leviathan?" Ziva said.

Azare glanced back at her. Daval's gaze settled on her, heavy and unblinking. "The Great Leviathan," he echoed.

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "Then they're good as dead, Majesty. The whale's gone."

"The whale is not gone, Lieutenant," Daval said. "There have been rumors. Sightings. More than lies and tired eyes can account for. And now, the undeniable. An Estaran boy washed up on Lapide's shores babbling of the beast passing under his ship."

"And your spy can be trusted in this information?" Azare said, his voice level.

"I choose my spies wisely," Daval told him.

He stepped down the dais, cloak hem whispering against the stone as he approached. "Lapide is like a block of marble with a flaw at its heart. It may look strong, but it's all an illusion. Enough pressure, and the flaw will crack, and the marble will crumble."

Daval leaned in. Ziva smelled the forge scent of him, hot metal and flame. He took Azare by the shoulder, fingers biting deep into the fabric of his uniform. "I hear it crumbling now. I have no faith in the Valere prince's ability to track down his Leviathan, believe me, Severin. But I'd rather make sure of it."

Azare lowered his head. "The Mistfox should be well able to outpace them. She'll be ready by nightfall if it's pursuit you're after."

"Good." He slapped Azare's shoulder. The gesture seemed awkward to Ziva, camaraderie that had once been second nature. "Good. That's excellent, Severin. I don't have to tell you how important this is. How much I count on you."

"I know," Azare said quietly.

Daval paused, shook his head, then gestured to the guards at the door. Ziva narrowed her eyes as a pair of uniformed machinists emerged from the halls, carrying between them a case, some six feet long and made of dark-rubbed steel.

The machinists set it at Daval's feet with a resounding clang. They bowed low, silent behind their masks, and retreated once more.

"I despise this thing," Daval said. He unclasped his cloak and slung it over the steps, where it lay opulent and glittering, like the pelt of some fantastic beast. Daval undid his cuffs and rolled them deftly, exposing his scarred forearms. "Hot. Itches something fierce. Come here, Sev, and have a look." He beckoned to Azare. "You'll like these."

"What is this?" Azare said, approaching slowly.

"An ending." Daval tossed the lid open. All heat seemed to recede from the room; Bellana's light still fell, heavy and golden, but did not seem to touch the contents of the case. "Lapide's ending. And a beginning. Our beginning."

Ziva moved forward. Azare's fingers brushed her wrist, and she stopped, clenching her fist. His eyes met hers again, black as the volcanic rock of the Belmont throne.

Power, Ziva thought, as it struck her strong as ever, the bloom of it, raw and roaring.

"The dreadnoughts are your weapons, Severin, the weapons of the people," Daval said. "But a king must have his secrets, don't you think?"

He lifted one of the javelins from their mounts. Javelins- that was the closest thing Ziva could think of, a long spear-tipped shaft like the housing for an alchemic bolt, but made instead of dull gray metal that rippled like godsglass in the light. Ziva tasted bitterness on the back of her tongue. No mere steel, this. The javelins tasted of the deep mines, the smoke off ore refineries, the smoke of war that had so long hung over Pavaloir.

Daval lifted it to the light. "You know what this is, I wager."

"Star iron," Ziva murmured. The stuff was holy, and precious rare; decades had passed since the incandescent blaze of a falling star had been sighted anywhere near Estara's sea border. So said the word of the Saints, a falling star had lit the way for the first folk of Estara. They'd wandered long over wastelands of ocean until Bellana's light blazed from the firmament, marking a path over sea and sky and toward the isles that would one day hold their kingdom. "I thought the crown's reserves had long since run dry."

"This is our last, Lapin. It holds alchemic workings like no other material, not even grayamber. These hold spellfire. Each one an inferno, enough to set a fleet ablaze."

"You didn't think I should be informed of this?" Azare said.

"You don't like them?"

"That's not my question."

Daval's grin was broad and boyish. Ziva was once again reminded of the young man the king had once been, glorious and full of fire, the ruler Estara had needed at its time of greatest shame. She wondered if he still saw Azare as a young man, too. She wondered what else the king saw him as. "Don't look so grim, Sev. Don't you trust me?"

Azare paused. Too long. Anger flared in the king's eyes.

"Of course I do," Azare said. "But-"

"I am your king." Daval rounded on Azare. The point of the javelin was leveled at Azare's heart, humming as if in anticipation of bloodshed. An inferno, Ziva thought. One javelin would be enough to turn Pavaloir Tower into a ruin of melted rock and ash like snow. "Not the other way round. Or have you forgotten that too?"

Azare and the king held gazes, Daval still grinning at him, Azare's face still as stone. Ziva's hands tightened to fists.

Azare was the first to look away. "No."

"Good." Daval set the javelin back in its case and snapped the lid shut. Ziva let out her breath. She glanced at Azare, but his gaze was set forward, steady and unblinking. "Because these are for you. I intend you to hunt far greater prey than just a prince and his dying witchspawn of a sister. I'd thought to test their points against Lapide's navy, but I think they'll take to whaleback just as well."

"Hunt a god?" Ziva said. A shudder passed through her, wild and vast: the blue-white scar of lightning against a storm, the back of a beast larger than ships, larger than islands, cresting the waves, like some new land carved not from rock but from flesh and bone and dark gleaming hide. Maker of monsters, maker of magic, maker of worlds.

Her hand went to her knife's hilt, but there was no enemy here save the impossible. What had already been done if not that?

"No, Lieutenant," Daval said. "Not hunt a god." He looked at her, eyes bright as flame. "Kill a god."

[encrucijada]

THREE GIRLS WHO CRIED WOLF by ester cuervos

an introduction !

○ genre: literary fiction / low fantasy ○ category: adult ○ pov: first person retrospective ○ that feeling you get from an indie movie, lgbtqa+, the “wolf” in the title isn't a metaphor there are actual wolves, found family, childhood wonder with the reluctance of a teenager, werewolves but whimsical instead of sexy ○ cw: graphic death, gore, mental illness, toxic relationships, discussion of suicide ○ themes: avoiding accountability, denial, the power of choice, actions have consequences, narrator bias ○ tone: melancholic, raw, quiet, wistful, soft & sharp

a b o u t : told in three parts about best friends iris ibarra, winnie gil and maree peña who one day find an abandoned litter of wolf pups in the forest of their lake-side town. each part is dedicated to one of the girls and we follow each of their version of the story for two years: before and after they graduate high school… and how the bad things might have been caused by the wolves.

WINNIE GIL... loves someone who doesn’t want to love her back so she tries to love two other people, doing things her own way so she doesn’t have to conform to others, hasn’t accepted the idea of people in her head will never be as they really are. IRIS IBARRA... has herself convinced of her own invulnerability and confidence, doing things for others so it turns out the way she wants it, her type of kindness isn’t exactly ideal, consciously forgets to consider consequences might not just affect her. MAREE PEÑA... is incapable of telling people no or standing up for herself, learned to be okay with getting overlooked, struggling with keeping a mess from spreading, trying her very best to remain kind because if not her then who?

c h a r a c t e r s: ○ iris ibarra. she/they. asexual. hierarchy of needs: leaf?? < be a brat unprompted < i hope the forest critters know i am their friend or else i’ll cry < hold s/o’s hand < be an actual wolf. an older sister. ○ winnie gil. she/her. lesbian. hierarchy of needs: a cool snow globe < turtleneck worn with an overall < kiss a girl < be right in every situation < ice skating. a younger sister. ○ maree peña. she/her. aromantic. hierarchy of needs: bright coloured lipstick < oversharing emotions with strangers < the smell of new book < to be liked by everyone < a hug. a middle sister. ○ argyle macbay. they/them. asexual. hierarchy of needs: a good night’s sleep < the aesthetic of hanging photographs from twine with wooden clothes clips < an old camera < be held gently by gf. an older sibling.

aesthetic: wolf howls in the distance, bare ribs half-buried in the snow, a light drizzle, low-hanging mist, mossy rocks at the bottom of a river, bubbles rising to the surface as you sink, a bridge entangled with kudzu vines and flowers, feet sinking in mud, jumping on rain puddles with rubber boots, a blackout that lets you see the stars, snow globes with glitter instead of fake snow, the bells of buoys, friendship bracelets, trails of blood on the snow, ripped stuffed toys, branches reflected on a cup of coffee, the low sunlight through a bathroom window, the whisper of the wind, star doodles on the margins of notebooks, astrological birth charts

playlist: ribs / the crane wives ; wolves without teeth / of monsters and men ; rebel heart / first aid kit ; achilles come down / gang of youths ; feel something / jaymes young ; forest fires / axel flóvent ; just my soul responding / amber run ; hunger / florence + the machine ; organs / of monsters and men ; stomach it / crywolf ft. eden ; howling / wild rivers ; running with the wolves / aurora ; see you through my eyes / the head and the heart ; lover, please stay / nothing but thieves ; on the wing / owl city ; tomorrow / daughter ; sick of losing soulmates / dodie ; crash / eden ; soap / the oh hellos ; older / sasha sloan ; believe / mitch king ; in a week / hozier

[taekooktimeline]

September 2020 (released August 13, 2021)

September 2020: Bangtan Bomb - Dynamite Roller Skating Rink (released on 13 Aug 2021)

We’ve seen short clips of this moment before through prior BBs and Memories of 2020, but BH has uploaded 2 more videos for this day. 

Tae struggles to skate properly, staying hunched over to try to prevent himself from falling. Jungkook attentively helps Tae to ensure he doesn’t fall. Jk can be seen holding Tae’s hand in one scene while smiling endearingly at how Tae is struggling.  

Goes to hold his hand while Jimin assists from behind -

Timestamp 1:46, video 1 

Another angle of Jk holding Tae’s hand -

Timestamp 1:37, video 2

Jk touches the railing and gets a static shock while still holding onto Tae. Jk lets go of Tae’s hand briefly but re-focuses on Tae after getting over it.

Timestamp 1:43, video 2 

Tae looks back to possibly signal to Jk that he needs help and Jk rushes to grab his waist when Tae starts to lose his balance again. He continues holding onto him when he touches the ground.

Timestamp 1:45, video 2 

Jungkook looks at Namjoon and points at Tae while smiling, which is something he has repeatedly done throughout the years when Tae does something that makes him laugh.

Timestamp 1:52, video 2

Link: https://twitter.com/ggukkstae/status/1426222427235749888?s=20

This situation continues repeatedly and Jk is the main member who constantly watches out for, and makes sure, that Tae is safe, even though Jimin and Jin do briefly help him as well.

Jk can be seen in the background still assisting Tae -

timestamp 1:52, video 2

Jk taps on Tae’s back and tells him to try standing straight. Tae briefly looks back at him as Jk demonstrates.

Timestamp 1:57, video 2 

Tae tries to do as Jk encourages him to but cutely fails and loses his balance again. Jk intently watches on and reaches for his waist in case he falls again.

Timestamp 2:02, video 2 

Tae regains his balance and gets playful, theatrically making jerky movements. Jk laughs in complete amusement as he holds him by the arms and does his iconic nose scrunch. 

They both are smiling widely and laughing hard at the situation.

Timestamp 2:05, video 2

Tae turns around and says something to Jk, and Jk tries showing Tae how to skate as they both look down at their skates (and the camera pans away). 

Timestamp 2:11, video 2

A voice off camera prompts the group to make two more circuits around the track. Jk watches Tae carefully as he attempts to skate.

timestamp 2:15, video 2

Close up -

Tae almost falls when he looks back but Jk is ready to catch him again.

Jk reaches to hold Tae’s chest / waist and Tae grabs onto his hand for stability.

Tae still loses his balance and almost falls to the ground immediately. Jungkook hurriedly tries to lessen the impact of his fall by holding up his arm. 

Jk bends down as Tae falls, still holding onto him. Both can be seen laughing again at the situation.

Timestamp 2:22, video 2

Full compiled cut of Taekook skating scenes from Tonight Show / Bangtan Bombs / Memories of 2020: https://twitter.com/_K91230V_/status/1426142494501212167?s=20

Raw links: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLWIo_QoHfA&ab_channel=BANGTANTV and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jOm_H6QAtE&ab_channel=BANGTANTV

[thenon-fictiondays]

yall i know we all got hung up on the post credits scene but this clip is just stuck in my head in a loop bc literally every single other line he speaks in the entire show is so calm and composed even when he's emotional and then. this fucking scream out of nowhere. he barely even sounds like the same person. the rawness of his voice, the cap flying back, the fact that he reacted this way not because of Adam's position in the race but because this was the first time he's actually enjoyed skating in years and Tadashi could tell even without being able to see his face-

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Carolina in My Mind” (Rated PG)

Summary: Things get a little spicy when Sebastian decides that Kurt and Blaine are going to start doing TikTok challenges... in part to exact revenge on his boyfriend for covering him in glitter and posting photos on Instagram. (1845 words)

Notes: It's not as lurid as the summary makes it sound XD Makes a reference to an earlier quarantine one-shot 'All The Glitters'.

Part 67 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

"We're doing TikTok challenges now!?" Kurt groans, sliding to a halt in front of his boyfriend, arms crossed over his chest before he comes to a stop.

Sebastian beams, flashing Kurt his iPhone screen with the app already open. "Ah. I see you got my message." 

"Aren't we already living through hell? Do we have to add humiliation to the mix?"

"You're one to talk! If you get to cover us in makeup and glitter and post photos on Instagram, I get to do this!"

"But that performance makeup contest was hosted by the ISI," Blaine points out. "What merit does a TikTok challenge have?"

Sebastian watches Blaine glide to a stop beside his boyfriend and pulls a face. "Well, Doubty McDoubterson, tons of people join TikTok every day, including figure skaters. You two were worried about staying in the public eye during the pandemic. This will be great visibility for us within the skating community."

"A-ha." Kurt shares a skeptical side glance with Blaine. "Now, why don't you tell us why we're really doing this."

Sebastian gasps, stumbling back as if punched in the face. "Kurt! I'm wounded! Deeply wounded! I'm being completely honest here! I'm only thinking of you guys, working hard to keep your names in the mouths of... "

"Before you say another word," Kurt interrupts with a finger raised, "may I remind you that you have a five o'clock sesh riding on this answer."

Sebastian's mouth hangs open, caught around the next word. But a beat later, he snaps it shut. "Fine. We're doing this because we've been on lockdown for about ten years and I'm bored to tears!"

"Nice," Kurt says, "seeing as you've spent all of quarantine with us."

"Will you be partaking?" Blaine rushes in before Sebastian can shove his foot any further down his throat. He's not being entirely selfless, but he'd rather not admit out loud that Sebastian's plan is a decent one, ulterior motives aside. Blaine has a TikTok account and has wasted plenty of precious training time scrolling through clips. Sebastian is right - a lot of figure skaters post on there, even some big names in their sport. It's a better platform for it than Instagram. If they pull this off, they could become TikTok famous, and that wouldn't exactly hurt when they make their comebacks.

"I am." Sebastian wiggles his camera in front of their faces. "I'm the cameraman."

"Of course," Kurt mutters under his breath. "So what's the challenge?" he asks, eager to get this over with, hoping he doesn't regret it too much later. "It is a skating challenge, right?"

"Of course it's a skating challenge! In fact, you guys get to perform your routines... " Kurt stares at his grinning boyfriend, waiting for the shoe to drop. And it does when Sebastian picks up a small paper bag off the boards and holds it out to them "... after you've eaten this pepper. There's one in there for each of you."

"I guess it's too much to hope it's a bell pepper," Kurt remarks as Blaine takes the bag and opens the top. He reaches a hand in and pulls out a bright reddish-orange vegetable the size of his thumb. Kurt recognizes it right away, his eyes going wide at the Carolina Reaper pinched between Blaine's fingertips.

"A little bit, yeah," Blaine says.

"What th---? Aren't those things illegal?" Kurt asks, on the brink of turning and running, leaving his friend behind to suffer the consequences.

"Nope. They're perfectly legal," Sebastian says. "And they won't cause any permanent damage. I checked."

"That's so nice of you."

"Come on! This'll be fun!"

"For you! You're running the camera!"

"I've got you guys. Look! I brought you some milk for after," he says, producing the smallest, middle-school carton of two percent in existence. How he expects the both of them to share that, Kurt doesn't know. It's probably part of the schtick, Kurt thinks, to cap off the hilarity - the two of them fighting over seven ounces of milk with their mouths on fire. "Also... " Sebastian deliberates when he feels himself losing ground, running through options in his head he hopes Kurt might jump at so he can get his TikTok "... I'll let you pick the next challenge. Then you can be the cameraman."

A malicious grin spreads across Kurt's face, but Sebastian squashes it with the stipulation: "But remember - whatever you make me do, Blaine has to do, too."

"Don't I get any say in this?" Blaine asks.

"No," Sebastian answers without looking at him.

"Well, do I get a turn at choosing?"

"Maybe... provided Kurt agrees to my conditions."

Kurt glares at his manipulative ass of a boyfriend, putting him on the spot in the name of social media currency. But what the heck? This could be fun. Plus, turnabout is fair play. He'll get Sebastian back. 

Oh yes. He'll get him back.

Besides, Kurt isn't a stranger to spicy foods. His dad has put plenty of red and green gremlins, each residing on different ends of the Scoville scale, in that disastrous chili he makes every fourth of July. How much worse could eating this one raw be?

"Fine." Kurt snatches the pepper out of Blaine's hand but doesn't bring it anywhere near his mouth.

Blaine, on the other hand, goes all in, grabbing his pepper out of the bag, popping it into his mouth, chewing like crazy, and then swallowing, probably in the hopes that it would hurt less if he did it fast, like pulling off a Bandaid. Then he skates off.

His plan doesn't work too well though. Thirty seconds into his backward crossovers, his face scrunches. He puts a hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut, cheeks flushing beet red before Kurt's eyes. "Jesus Christ! I can't see!"

Kurt fixes steely eyes on his boyfriend, filming and giggling like a fiend as Blaine attempts a triple Axel and singles it, arms flailing when he tries to fan his mouth at the same time. 

"I'm picturing a Speedo," Kurt says as he prepares to drop the Reaper into his mouth. "An embarrassingly tight Speedo, seven gallons of honey, an angry beehive... " He carefully places the pepper on his tongue. His salivary glands kick into overdrive when its waxy exterior makes contact, but he can't persuade his teeth to bite.

"Ooo," Sebastian coos, provoking him. "Blaine covered in bees? That's going to be hilarious! And I can't wait to see his face when he finds out it was your idea. But what are you going to make me do?"

That does it. 

Kurt's teeth clench inadvertently, catching the pepper as it rolls off his tongue and pummeling it to bits between his pearly whites. The burn washes through his mouth, spreading in an instant with the obliterated pepper sitting for too long on his tongue.

"Shit!" he yelps, swallowing what remains whole. He coughs violently, almost puking up his lunch. "Shit shit shit!" 

"Don't die," Sebastian teases. "Not for TikTok."

"Nice to see you have priorities," Kurt growls, overcome by a sudden urge to get as far away from his insufferable boyfriend as his skates can take him. 

Now he has to pull this off so he can rub it in Sebastian's face.

Remembering that Blaine has a head start on him, he forces his feet to move. A swiftly blossoming headache completely erases his new routine from his brain so he begins improvising, starting with the opening of his last Regionals piece. He opens with a pancake spin.

Big mistake.

Crouching low over his bent leg as he spins forces his mouth closed, everything from his gums to his cheeks aflame. 

"Nope!" he sputters. "Nope nope nope!" He ends his spin prematurely, hacking as he settles into backward crossovers. 

These are worse. 

Since he's pushing into the air with his back, none of it hits his face, depriving him of relief. He catches sight of Blaine skating as fast as he can with his mouth wide open, preparing to enter another jump. He performs a double toe loop, then another, then another. Kurt doesn't understand. Blaine doesn't perform doubles in his routine. He's beyond that. 

Then it hits him.

Blaine can do a row of doubles faster than he can perform consecutive triples. He's using rotational inertia to cool his face.

It's genius.

Kurt launches into the air, stringing together three of the most lopsided double Salchows he's ever landed. And he barely lands them at that, overestimating his edge and nicking his toepick. He gives up on his choreography altogether, performing whatever move he has to to shove ice-cold air into his mouth. Element by element, Kurt's routine devolves until his goal becomes keeping his mouth from bursting into flames. 

He can't remember the last time he flubbed up this badly. He and Blaine probably look like drooling dogs doing the most, but his throat burns so badly, he couldn't care less. Kurt's nose runs like a faucet, but nowhere near as much as his eyes, which he has the hardest time prying open. 

He decides to skate blind, praying he doesn't collide with Blaine, whose blades he can no longer identify on the ice. By the time Kurt strikes his final pose, he's puffy-eyed, sweating like no one's business, with his lower jaw hanging to his chest, wheezing as he sucks in mouthfuls of cold air. He can't hear much for the ringing in his ears, but he suspects Sebastian may be laughing his ass off. 

Why did he agree to this again? 

"How did I do?" he asks, skating back to his boyfriend, trying not to touch his tongue to his lips, or his lips to each other.

"Meh. You've done better," Sebastian replies, replaying the video over and over, snickering at choice scenes.

"Thanks, coach," Kurt seethes, wondering how well Sebastian would skate if Kurt shoved one of those peppers up his nose.

"At least you fared better than Blaine."

"Why?" Kurt pants, scanning the rink through the narrow slits of his swollen eyelids. "What happened to him?"

Sebastian jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "Took himself out of the running before his second Axel attempt, the poor schlub."

Kurt peeks over Sebastian's shoulder and spots Blaine, lying on his stomach, tongue pressed flat to the ice.

Kurt makes a face. He doesn't blame the guy, but still. 

Yuck. 

"Blaine? Honey? That's not a good idea."

"Yeah, weirdo. We have milk."

"I 'as saving da 'ilk for 'urt," Blaine explains, not moving his tongue while he does.

"Oh!" Kurt sighs, pressing a hand over his heart, overdoing the swoon because he knows how much it will irk Sebastian. The jerk deserves it. "That's so sweet!"

Blaine smiles. At least it looks like he does.

Sebastian grimaces. Great. Upstaged by a boy who looks like he just Frenched a patch of poison ivy. "Yeah, yeah. Cavity inducing. Get your ass up, Anderson. You're just making it worse. Besides, you're burning a hole through my ice."

[nomanwalksalone]

JOBS? NEVER!!

by Daniel Penny

A few weeks ago, I was scrolling through my Instagram feed when I came across the trailer for Jobs? Never!!, a new skateboarding film directed by, and starring, Jim Greco. Through its nefarious algorhythm, Instagram has correctly pegged me as a former skateboarder and distant fan of the sport, and so these kinds of clips pop up in my feed pretty often. Still, this one seemed different. The video didn’t show any tricks–no flashy 360 varial flips, no nollie crooked grinds–just a man pushing through the streets of L.A., a dusty suit jacket flapping open in the breeze.

This was strange enough to entice me to click the link to see the whole film, which I finished in a state of awe. Greco plays a semi-fictional version of himself who seems to be skateboarding as a way of spending his astonishing energy and keeping at bay a stultifying ennui. In the opening scene, he takes a brutal fall, and the rest of the film is a kind of dream sequence from his hospital bed, in which Greco, approaching 40, mulls over his fading career, old addictions, and persistent love of a sport that may one day kill him.

Instead of giving viewers the usual march of technical virtuosity set to the latest trap anthem, Jobs? Never!! emphasizes raw physicality and atmosphere, unrolling these languorous shots of Greco skating through LA, sometimes accompanied by friends, but always in his mind, alone. The meandering 16 mm camera work makes the film seem as if it were discovered in some kind of time capsule, while the old fashioned soundtrack is Lynchian in its contrast with what you see on screen. My favorite scene is a surreal sequence of Greco watching TV in a sparsely furnished loft with a young women who seems to be his girlfriend, then restlessly skating around the apartment and catching air over his refrigerator. And yet, the beauty and absurdity of these moments are laced with a melancholy, existential quality that stays with you long after the credits roll. If Jean-Luc Godard were to direct a skateboarding film, this would be it.

Throughout Jobs? Never!!, Greco appears improbably steezed, sporting vintage tailoring and gold Supra shoes of his own design. (They call to mind Dorothy’s red slippers.) Just as viewers at home should be warned against imitating his stunts, Greco’s sprezzatura is beyond what most men are capable of–his jackets are so lived in, they’re practically bursting at the seams, his shirts sometimes so tattered they might serve better as rags. Yet all of this wear somehow adds up to a picture of charming insouciance? Many of the film’s best sequences were shot in LA’s Skid Row, but you would never mistake Greco for a vagrant; he has one of those genetically ordained, athletically trim frames–with a slightly weathered, but still handsome face. And Greco’s graceful movements make the weathered state of his attire seem neither an embarrassment nor an affectation. His movie seems to suggest: “This is just the way I dress, dude.”

Quality content, like quality clothing, ages well. This article first appeared on the No Man blog in 2019.

[powellperaltaskateboards]

'Raw Clips' of Charlie Blair from our time at YMCA Skate Camp up on YouTube 📺http://bit.ly/CharlieBlairRawClipsYMCA

[itsuki-minamy]

“K - THE FIRST STORY” (Novel)

CHAPTER 2: FLAMES (Complete)

*PROLOGUE: SIDE: THE BOY

CHAPTER 1: THE BOY NAMED ISANA YASHIRO

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

December 7th. That day was the day before the important girl's birthday.

Tatara Totsuka, who is not the only one from "Homura", has been preparing for a few days with his friends for the eleventh birthday of Anna Kushina, the girl who is everyone's princess.

She is an important girl to Totsuka.

She is like a sister, a good friend and a comrade.

Totsuka thought that she had the ability to get closer to the "King" than anyone else in Homura.

When Totsuka looked up, his Supreme "King" Suoh had just descended from the second floor.

A man whose red hair is slightly raised like a lion and looks like a gangster boss, but today, he loosened his poor eyesight a bit and looked around the bar.

The first floor is the HOMRA bar, which is also the base of "Homura", and the second floor is a residence where Suoh and Anna live.

From inside the counter, Izumo Kusanagi, the bar master, speaks lightly.

"Mikoto. Anna fell asleep?"

"Yes."

Although the preparation for the birthday party is directed to Anna, who is the protagonist, at the moment, it is a secret, but Anna is a very intelligent girl with sensitive abilities. Of course, she will know that Homura members are restless to celebrate her birthday, and she may even be careful to look away. However, Totsuka thinks this kind of thing is very important.

Totsuka gave Suoh a red rose to give to Anna tomorrow.

"So, King. Yes. Give it to Anna tomorrow and congratulate her."

Anna has a color vision deficiency and can only recognize colors in red. Perhaps that is why Anna is deeply concerned with the color "red". Tomorrow, he plans for Anna's arms to hold the bright red roses given by each of the members.

For a few seconds, Suoh looked at the red flower Totsuka offered him and received it.

"Oh, what honesty."

Kusanagi lightly mocks the king who obediently holds the flower without complaining.

"Keep Anna upstairs until noon tomorrow. In the meantime, I will prepare for the party.”

Totsuka laughs at Suoh and asks Kusanagi, who works at the counter, "Do you have anything to help?"

Misaki Yata, a boy who cuts Homura's bark, broke in and said, "I will do some work for you." (Yata is nineteen, but because he has a baby face and is always skating in clothes with his knuckles on his knees, he looks more like a boy than a young man.)

Glancing at Yata, whom Kusanagi told his to do a chore, Totsuka raised his favorite camera.

Totsuka has an old camera. Because he likes the taste of digital movies that are different from the ones he takes with the PDA, Totsuka has a hobby of using this camera to take photos of Homura's everyday life. Totsuka has many hobbies but this is the hobby that continues the longest.

"Then, I should go home after a while."

"Totsuka, do you have something to do?"

Totsuka laughed and said that he had something to record to show Anna tomorrow, on her birthday.

He wanted to show her the scene where Anna, who can only see the color red, would surely think it would be great, using the camera that always records his friends.

Hearing Totsuka's story, Kusanagi and Yata laughed as if convinced. Suoh didn't say anything, but snorted a bit with a softer look than usual.

Totsuka, wearing a coat and holding a camera, laughed at his friends, "See you tomorrow!" And left the HOMRA Bar.

There is an application called "Candle". It's that kind of app that when you turn it on, a red candle-shaped light comes on the screen. There is no usage conference, etc.

But everyone who puts it on their PDA, is using the app for a purpose.

It was an urban legend.

When you direct a "candle" light at the airship, the airship lifts you off the ground.

Such rumors have sincerely been told. Actually, he has heard stories that they've been on the airship, but generally think of the common phrase in urban legend that says "friend of friend."

The airship flying over Tokyo is rumored to carry a globally wealthy person, but the actual situation is shrouded in mystery, there are various theories like alien theory and living god theory, and some of it is the object of faith.

The general public recognizes that a strange rich man who continues to fly on the airship, but his mystery, believe it or not, attracted many.

Totsuka and the "people related to the Slate" know his identity. He is just a "King" similar to Suoh. Adolf K. Weissmann, the first king, the "Silver King". The King, who has been flying in the sky for more than half a century and does not interfere with the ground, must be an old man as much as the "Golden King", but he has an immutable attribute and is still young. Apparently. He only knows what information appears to be, but Totsuka has never met another "King", and has no particular interest.

However, for those who did not know the existence of the heavenly royalty of the "King", Totsuka was interested in those who wanted salvation in a mysterious "something" full of mystery.

Everyone who points the "sail" towards the airship has something to do with this land, dreaming of another world, not here. The red light shining on the PDA seemed like a lot of colors in their lives.

When he stands on the roof of a building at night, he can often see the red light of a "candle" shining everywhere. He believes that the red light of the "candles" can be seen in the city at night, as if the entire city were a large cake with lit candles. He wants to show Anna that on her birthday tomorrow. Totsuka was heading to the building, which is a hidden place where the night view looks particularly beautiful, camera in hand.

Will Anna say that the red light on the candle is clear or will Anna, who has the ability to respond, feel the emotions of the people in the candle and feel the pain? However, Totsuka thinks the scene is beautiful, including the fact that each red light is full of people's thoughts.

Totsuka reached the target building and went up to the rooftop.

There was an unexpected customer on the rooftop.

From behind, he can see that he is a little boy like a high school student.

Did he come to see the night view? Or he may be trying to aim the sail at the airship. His body seems to sway a bit, but it's suspicious behavior, but he can hear him sing a song of joy with a buzz, and he doesn't think he's reached the rooftop to commit suicide.

Totsuka sometimes met a person who lit a "candle" when he came to record the night view.

At those moments, Totsuka decides to speak. People who light the "candles" often have some kind of worry and dissatisfaction, and when he listens to them, they can glimpse their lives and they can spit out a lot of regrets, and often cry.

Between the clear night sky with the stars and the lights of the city with human activity, Totsuka walked towards the boy's back while pointing the camera at him.

"Hello, it's a nice night."

A cold winter breeze blows high, stroking his cheeks. An illuminated night. It is a nice night, with the beautiful starlight, the city lights and the red lit candles.

"I came to film the night view, what are you doing in such a place?"

There is no response from the boy. He doesn’t even look back.

"I am Tatara Totsuka. What about you?"

The boy suddenly turned around. He could see something black glittering in his hand.

Soon after what he thought, a shot rang out.

++++++++++

The news of the death of Totsuka Tatara, the executive of "Homura", reached "Scepter 4" at midnight near dawn.

The first report was brought to Seri Awashima, Lieutenant of "Scepter 4", by Izumo Kusanagi, the executive staff of "Homura".

Awashima heard Kusanagi's voice so cold for the first time. Kusanagi was calm and not bothered at all. However, the calm he usually shows in front of Awashima is not so fragile, and he simply announced the minimum deeds and will necessary.

The fact that the executive, Tatara Totsuka, was shot dead by a person claiming to be the "Colorless King." Since this case is a problem between clans and the police intervention does not make sense, they did not denounce it and they report that those who took the body was "Homura". The report states that "Homura" will use all of his strength to pursue him after all. She knows that "Scepter 4" cannot be used in places where it is useless, but "Homura" goes after the criminal on his own and does not require any cooperation from "Scepter 4".

Kusanagi said it terribly clerical and one-sided. He barely answered Awashima's words. Kusanagi reaction remained the same whether he called as "Kusanagi Izumo" deputy director of "Homura" to "Scepter 4", or as "Kusanagi-kun" and her acquaintance to Awashima Seri.

When he hung up the phone, Awashima immediately manipulated the PDA, took off her garment and put on her underwear while calling out to the "King" and "Head of Scepter 4".

Despite arriving late at night, Reisi Munakata, the head of the office, responded with a single call.

"What's happen?"

"There was a report from Izumo Kusanagi, the executive member of 'Homura'. Tatara Totsuka, an executive of 'Homura', was assassinated by someone claiming to be the 'Colorless King'."

Awashima made a simple statement, inserting a jacket between her shoulder and face and pulling the sleeves into her uniform.

Munakata replied, "I understand."

"We will call members on an emergency call. Please meet at the base immediately."

"Yes!"

When the call ended, Awashima was already well dressed in her uniform. To finish, she quickly tied her tousled hair in front of the mirror, fixed it with a hair clip, put on her boots, and left the room.

As she hurries down the hall, Awashima feels the rush of blood close to her heart.

A member of the clan dies. That's sad. She also experienced it in "Scepter 4". However, if the criminal becomes another "King", a clan war is inevitable. Furthermore, Tatara Totsuka is surely the oldest member of the clan with Suoh and Izumo Kusanagi.

Remembering Kusanagi's voice on the phone, when she entered the captain's office of “Scepter 4”, which was adjacent to the bedroom, she was led into the twister due to the commotion that might occur. Munakata and the members of the special affairs team were already prepared.

Awashima bowed to Munakata, who was sitting in the office, and looked briefly at the faces of the hurried members. After thinking that Fushimi was missing, the door opened at the same time with a loud bang.

Saruhiko Fushimi, who has entered the office, said with a sulky look that the "Homura" executive was killed.

The eyes with black rimmed glasses and slightly long bangs carry a somber light. She has never seen Fushimi in a good mood, but today he seemed more frustrating than ever.

Fushimi is a young man with a unique past who has changed from "Homura" to "Scepter 4."

He lacks coordination, but he has a lot of power to make up for it, and although he is still 19 years old, he is at number 3 on "Scepter 4."

"Scepter 4", which plays the role of a police force against the Strains, and "Homura", which started from a street gang, are conflicting organizations that collide frequently. What happened to Fushimi's turn, Awashima doesn't know the detailed circumstances and never felt the need to know in particular.

However, she was deeply impressed by how he received the news that the "Homura" executive with whom he had been involved was assassinated.

Munakata bypassed the members and began to explain the current situation.

Shortly after receiving the news from Awashima, Munakata had contacted the police and made the minimum necessary adjustments.

Police had already launched an initial investigation after receiving a report from the general public that heard the shot, and had also obtained sightings of men carrying what appeared to be the body. However, Munakata received notice that the right of investigation was moved to "Scepter 4" and that the police would only deal with the backup because it was a "male case" involving a person with special abilities. Police investigations have stopped.

Fushimi irritated his hair in front of Munakata, who insisted that they conduct an investigation.

"Isn't this dangerous? If it goes wrong..."

"Yes, we cannot do bad things. We will catch the criminal."

Fushimi's words were accepted and Munakata said in a rejecting tone.

"We cannot let criminals who get out of order and commit crimes go unchecked, and we cannot afford to ignore a private sentence that could involve hundreds of thousands of unrelated people."

Awashima took a breath in the current crisis that was clearly declared by Munakata.

Suoh wants to kill the "Colorless King". It was a possible future, where Awashima tried not to look ahead, feeling what would happen if he killed the King due to the instability of Suoh's Weissmann deviation.

Awashima reconsidered Munakata. The orderly "Blue King" did not disturb his calm and graceful face, his eyes beyond his glasses were calm, but his feeling was not always the same.

"Let's find the criminal. In our cause, without cloudiness."

They all corrected their attitude and welcomed Munakata's statement.

Awashima casually stopped next to Fushimi and walked side by side as they moved to their respective posts.

"Totsuka Tatara, who was killed, what kind of person was he in "Homura"?"

She asks Fushimi in a calm tone. She thought that he wouldn't reply deeply if he was astonished, but Fushimi looked at Awashima, and replied without emotion.

“He was a non-combatant. He mainly played the role of turning situations well, such as taking care of the education of newcomers or dealing with problems from his colleagues. Usually, Izumo Kusanagi was in charge of negotiations with the outside, but there were times when Totsuka was good at correctly engulfing the opponent in smoke and deceiving them."

Does it have a purpose to respond only with the performance without touching the personality? Awashima looked at Fushimi's profile. After all, his emotions don't show up there, but she felt that his always pale cheeks were paler than usual, probably because he woke up at dawn or because of the content of the news.

"Suoh Mikoto is…"

Awashima muttered as she recalled the "current crisis" she told Munakata.

"Even if he knew he would repeat the tragedy of 13 years ago, would he kill the 'Colorless King'?"

Nobody knows Suoh like Awashima. Awashima, the first member of the Munakata clan, was alongside Munakata when he first collided with Suoh. At that moment, Suoh laughed at Munakata's persuasion and concessions and removed his fangs. Facing Awashima, Munakata, who was always calm, disturbed his feelings at the situation of the fire beast or the disaster of the human form.

She believes that he is a terrifying man who has a violent orientation and destructive power. Awashima couldn't qualify that man, that even Munakata couldn't understand, he was immeasurable.

“The role of Tatara Totsuka. I think there was also an aspect like Suoh's security device."

Fushimi said bluntly. In the end it was a completely self-talking tone.

Before Awashima answered anything, Fushimi suddenly left Awashima.

++++++++++

A shot sounds.

The sound he doesn't know how many times, Kusanagi heard at the bar. The images taken by the old camera of Totsuka are converted into data and now played back on a personal computer. The video data was sent to the PDA of all the members of Homura to report the face of the criminal.

Seeing the images of his friend being killed over and over again gave him the feeling of falling asleep in his chest, but when anger and sadness find a place in his heart, those emotions are felt. No more irrational fuss. It may be okay to say that you are used to it.

Hearing the criminal boy make a name for himself, Kusanagi paused the video and spread the boy's hands. He intended to identify the type of weapon and follow the weapons acquisition route.

Kusanagi's PDA by his side, receives reports from "Homura" members one after another. Now they are gathering information about sightings around the building where Totsuka was killed and they go to the information store and the people behind the scenes to ask, but the results have yet to be achieved. There are many reports that members with blood on their heads were rude and had trouble, or had a fight with a member of “Scepter 4” who rushed in.

In particular, Yata, who is the leader of “Homura's” vanguard, was prone to ruin now because he was prone to getting caught in a direct path. He uses Kamamoto as an immobilizer to keep his balance, because otherwise he could hit some average person and hurt him. He was still a teenager and often played the role as his brother. Above all, it was Yata who saw Totsuka take his last breath, it can be said that it is reasonable.

As Kusanagi worked diligently, he heard footsteps descending from the second floor. Kusanagi removed his sunglasses and narrowed his eyes slightly, where the loud noise of stepping on the stairs and the soft noises of light weight, overlapping each other, made noise. "It's about time.", he mutters under his breath. Soon the other members will join as well.

Suoh and Anna appear at the bar. Anna's hand that was clinging to Suoh's back to hide in the middle, had a red flower. Anna held her in her hands, holding her to her chest.

The flowers were planned for everyone to give as a gift one by one on Anna's birthday. It seems that the rose that Totsuka gave to Suoh to give to Anna last night, was correctly given to Anna by Suoh. Kusanagi couldn't do it. The rose that could not be delivered or thrown away remains alive in a glass vase in Kusanagi's room.

Totsuka was supposed to give it to Anna when she brought that ribbon. He felt sad when he thought about the gift Totsuka prepared, but when he saw Anna holding the rose in her hand in an important way, he also thought that it was the best gift that could be given to Anna.

"Well, everything is ready."

Kusanagi stands up off to a good start.

"Anna, wait here. Mikoto..."

At the call, Suoh follows Kusanagi without answering.

As he climbed the stairs, Kusanagi looked back and saw Suoh behind him. A simple ring-shaped earring was on the cartilage part of Suoh's left ear, which follows Kusanagi after slightly dropping his line of sight. Sometimes it glowed red when it received light. Kusanagi turns forward, looking at the earring he's not used to in his ear.

"Do you think the boy who killed Totsuka is the 'Colorless King'?"

"Perhaps."

"Do you understand that between "Kings"?"

"No. It's just intuition."

Kusanagi sighed. It was a small sigh, but the exhaled emotions were heavy. The opponent is a "King". Kusanagi understood the meaning well.

"The previous seventh king, the 'Colorless King' Miwa, died in late September. After that, I don't know the story of the birth of the new 'Colorless King'. He was born in secret. We also don't know why he murdered Totsuka."

"Never mind."

It was an audible voice that he couldn't hear.

Suoh doesn't care who he is or why he did it.

Just find him and kill him. He's probably thinking that's enough.

Kusanagi said nothing more and approached Totsuka's body that was lying in Suoh's room on the second floor of the bar.

He closed his eyes and smelled the blood from Totsuka's cold body. There is not the piercing that he always wears in his left ear, just a small hole in the cartilage.

Behind Kusanagi, Suoh made a noise that lit a cigarette and the familiar smell of smoke wafted through. The smell of the cigarette slowly replaced the smell of blood.

Kusanagi looks at his friend's white eyelids, which no longer open.

The graceful face whose auditory hair casts a shadow on the blood-boiled cheek looked like a doll, and was like a stranger.

"Even though I'm always calm, I'm dying to face it."

From now on, he will be cremated with the flame of Suoh.

It was also the smoke from Homura's battle of retribution.

The body was burned near the sea.

Kusanagi and his friends, who were cheerful, spoke well and laughed at all times, lay silently and without expression in front of the coffin.

They couldn't erase Kusanagi's mood as if he was dying, his expression was so calm that he suddenly stood up and said, "Is it just a surprise?" And serious. Totsuka didn't wake up and closed his eyes with a disgusting look. The contrast between Anna's soft reddish color next to Totsuka and the pure white color of his skin, which is no longer bloody, stays strangely in the eyes.

The moment Totsuka was cremated it felt strangely quiet and calm. Only this time, everyone was filled with sadness and regret rather than anger, and Suoh seemed to be as clear as usual from the edge.

Suoh's flame of extraordinary power instantly burned the coffin that contained Totsuka, leaving nothing behind.

No Blood! No Bone! No Ash!

It was the last moment that he embodied the words of "Homura", but like the remains of Totsuka in this world, the earring that Totsuka wore shone on Suoh's left ear.

After three days.

It seems that the quiet moment of Totsuka's funeral was a dream, time was running out and it was too difficult.

"Homura" did his best to search for the criminal boy, and even the members who had little relation to Totsuka were burning with the spirit of battle and revenge.

When it's normal, there are a lot of nice people who get together and make stupid noises, and that's why they get excited like children to celebrate a girl's birthday, but once they get angry and have a fighting spirit, they burn like a flame and they don't fit in until the other part is burned.

Kusanagi usually sprinkles water on those people as needed to control them, but this time, Kusanagi lets them burn as well.

Using all kinds of information networks and some rough means, he was able to find out how the killer got the gun, although the whereabouts were unknown.

Kusanagi, who got the information at midnight, hurriedly returned to the HOMRA bar and made his way to the second floor room where Suoh was the first to live.

"Mikoto."

Suoh was lying on the couch in the room, lazy with a cigarette in hand. When he turned to Kusanagi, the long ash that had accumulated on the end of the cigarette fell to the ground.

"What happened?"

“I discovered the origin of the weapon that killed Totsuka. A multinational mob that wins a large business. Recently, it seems to have focused particularly on arms trafficking."

"I see."

"I need to ask the 'customer' who sold the weapon if he knows him or has a relationship with him. Muko-san doesn't speak so easily, but the time and effort of using the hands to fry is pitiful. I think I'll just take the elite around Yata and Kamamoto to the question."

"No."

Suoh with a low voice, carelessly interrupted him.

"I'm going too."

Kusanagi stared at Suoh's apparition, who said that while still in a lying limbs position, and blinked several times.

"When you go, it will be important."

"Yes."

"Even for the last few days, 'Scepter 4' has been keeping an eye on us. If you move there, maybe those guys will be out there big."

Suoh smiled.

He grabs the cigarette that has been too short, squeezes it in his fingers and extinguishes it with his own flame.

"Let me be."

In a word, Kusanagi somehow sensed Suoh's heart and sighed with a bitter smile.

“Goodbye to the plan, right? It's weird, but if you call, you can gather members right now."

“No, tomorrow is fine. You should take Anna with you to see if he's lying."

"I agree."

When he tested the calculations for tomorrow in his head and solved the difficulty, there was a voice from behind calling him, "Kusanagi."

When he turned around, Suoh had a mocking smile and cheered at Kusanagi lightly.

"Go to sleep."

Kusanagi slightly opened his eyes, squeezed his face for about two seconds, then bent down and shook his face.

"Yes, thanks."

"You can't sleep well all the time."

"I will return that word exactly as it is."

On the contrary, it seems that there are few humans who sleep properly after the incident among the members of "Homura".

But surely, he should have slept well. From now on the situation of having to move the head and body continues. He need sleep.

The same thing happened with Suoh, but Suoh shrugged slightly at Kusanagi's words.

"If you do it now, you will be asleep."

Guessing the meaning of the word, Kusanagi frowned.

From before, Suoh was sometimes "sleeping". While sleeping, control of the power is removed and the flame escapes accidentally, burning the walls of the room. It is usually when Suoh has a nightmare. He hasn’t asked in detail about his dream, but he can imagine.

Although it is true. He thinks now it's even better.

"No matter how much you sleep; you will not sleep."

Suoh chuckled slightly when he said that he had no words to say to the ground, neither poison nor medicine.

Probably tomorrow, he will meet "Scepter 4". If Suoh moves, so will the "Blue King" Munakata.

Kusanagi thought silently, looking at Suoh's expression, thinking that that might be a good thing.

++++++++++

That day was a very cold day.

However, if she walks alongside Suoh, the cold recedes.

Anna looked at the back of Suoh, who is walking at the beginning of "Homura". In the sight of Anna, the color of his power is visible from Suoh's body.

The most beautiful red than anyone.

Suoh, who was visible to Anna, always wore a clean red. Red has a terrifying power, but it is very beautiful and warm.

Even now, Suoh's red is transmitted to Anna from the hand that holds his jacket and warms Anna.

"Ok, let's go ask."

"Sorry, Shohei! Open the door first!"

"Ok, San-chan. I've worked part-time at a pizza parlor, so I can go naturally. I'll pretend to deliver pizza, and when the other door opens, they'll attack!"

"Yata-chan, run after the signal. Don't run ahead."

"Yes."

Behind Suoh and Anna, Kusanagi and his friends make the final confirmation.

From now on, "Homura" will attack a multinational mafia office.

According to a Kusanagi survey, the weapon that killed Totsuka appears to be a modified pistol sold by the mob. The criminal boy is unlikely to be a member of the mob, but it would be a great clue if there was a firearms trade between the mob and the boy.

Anna had a reason to accompany this storm. Anna has the ability to see through everything. Even if the other person is reluctant to give out information, Anna can reveal the lies and secrets.

Suoh's hand was clutching the lid of the lighter he had, playing with a clicking sound. In this way, Suoh's strong emotions do not flow towards Anna even when he is close to her. Suoh's emotions sank deep into Suoh, and the surface even seemed to calm down.

Suoh flips the lighter with the lid open and places it near the cigarette still in his mouth. There was a little noise.

Suoh turned around and looked at Kusanagi. Kusanagi cleared his eyes, followed by Suoh from behind and slightly raised his hand to greet him.

"Good, go ahead. Mikoto, come as slow as possible."

When Kusanagi said that, he passed Suoh's side and advanced, Yata and his colleagues bowed slightly to Suoh and continued.

Suoh and Anna became the only two to part with Homura's people, who were moving fast.

Anna takes a red marble out of her pocket.

She often uses this marble as a vehicle when using her sensitive abilities.

Anna looks at the monochrome world through red marbles. Suddenly, she saw small snowflakes fluttering from the sky.

Anna looks up at the sky. It was starting to snow. Small snowflakes fall in the wind as they dance. No wonder it's cold. It's cold today, like that night Totsuka died.

"Mikoto."

When Anna called softly, Suoh looked at Anna. Suoh's left ear glows red with the earring.

"Are you going to kill him?"

In response to Anna's question, Suoh makes a selfish smile.

"It's not that good."

Anna pursed her lips tightly and concentrated on her hand that was holding Suoh's jacket.

"Just do what you want to do."

Suoh's steps remain the same, slowly, but in a straight line without hesitation.

++++++++++

Sitting next to a mob member who was shaking after being beaten by Yata and his friends, Kusanagi was smoking slowly.

On the floor of the spacious mafia office, who had been drunk, there were men rolling on the floor after “Homura's” attack.

Sitting next to Kusanagi, a member of the mob staring with his swollen eyes, at his comrades sprawled on the ground. Kusanagi brings the image projected on the PDA closer to his eyes.

"So, this is the guy we are looking for…”

Speaking to a foreign mobster in English, he points out the image of a boy claiming to be the "Colorless King" who killed Totsuka.

"Look the gun he has. It's from your place. Don't you know anything about it?"

The mob executives just flinch and don't respond. The weapons they brought to this country, modified and distributed, killed Totsuka. They needed to be remembered carefully.

Kusanagi put his arm around the back of the couch where the mob member was sitting, and he spoke so low and close that his breath was very close to his face.

"Relax and take your time to remember."

At that moment, a roar was heard. Dust enters through the entrance that Kamamoto broke during the attack. It seems that more tough customers have arrived.

Kusanagi smirked. He wanted to shake it some more, but the King had already arrived.

A heavy step was heard from the dust. Suoh stands in a relaxed look, hidden behind him, a pretty girl looks uncomfortable in this place.

"King!" Yata, Kamamoto and other members of "Homura" bowed at the same time.

"It's early, Mikoto."

Kusanagi says that, the lower part of his eyebrows are lowered. Suoh paused for a moment as if he had come to the neighborhood for a walk.

Anna stepped out from behind Suoh's waist, and when she noticed the shaking member next to Kusanagi, she hurried to run.

A mafia man with a swollen face and a nosebleed looked scared at a doll-like girl. Perhaps another kind of fear was felt in the appearance of the girl who appeared in the middle of such a disaster.

Anna took a red marble out of her pocket and hung it in front of her left eye.

She is a Strain with unique abilities before she was a member of the Red Clan. Her eyes communicate with various things like the past and the future, distant places and human hearts, and "see" by her total feeling. There is no such thing as looking at the thought of a scared man. If it's still hard to see, just push a little harder and try to uncover the hidden stuff.

However, Anna, looking into the mafia man's eyes through the marbles, simply lowered her arm.

"He does not know it."

Anna's words spread an air of disappointment among the members of "Homura". There are no leads on the criminal. Although some sighs ended, Suoh seemed not to care and said in a low voice.

"Let's go."

Suoh turned his back on him slightly and started walking.

Unfortunately, the members of "Homura" chase after him, and Kusanagi also offers a sincere apology by raising a hand towards the crushed mob and continues.

Suoh did not use the regular entrance and exit, and hit the wall protruding from his body slightly on the nearest wall and made a large hole, and got out of there. It's exciting.

"Mikoto-san, Kusanagi-san."

Fujishima and Eric, who are the "Homura" members who were watching, run down the hall.

"The boys in blue are coming. It seems that riot police are also deployed on the first and second floors of the building."

Behind Fujishima's report, Eric also says with a strange face. "The "Blue King" is also coming out. It only hits the mafia, it's an overdone team."

"I'm sorry. Right now, the Blues should want to stop us, even if we push a bit. Normally we wouldn't squeeze as much as we did a bit of force to ask at the yakuza shop, but this time we want to catch ourselves the hard way. The harm to the general public by people with powers is a great cause for the Blues due to the violation of accord 120."

"Agreement?" Yata greatly distorted her youthful face.

"The damage to the general public was just the wall that flew off, right? If the Blues get in the way, let's attack!"

Kusanagi shrugged, with Yata's breath at his side, and put his hand on Anna's shoulder, which was attached to Suoh's back, and gently pushed her towards Fujishima and his friends.

"Anna, evacuate with Fujishima and Eric. It's going to be difficult."

Anna gently approached Fujishima and others, but looked at Suoh with concerned eyes. Suoh doesn't look at Anna, but starts walking again.

Kusanagi smiles and looks at his back, and puts his hand gently on Anna's head and follows Suoh.

A red flame arises again from Suoh's body and deflects. The flame breaks the wall of Suoh's hand slightly like chocolat and opens a path. Apparently, it seems that the structure of the building is completely ignored and a hole is drilled in the desired location.

Maybe he has settled on a horizontal route, or maybe he just wants to spit out the flames swirling around his body.

When he went down to the second floor, Suoh burned the wall again. A red, tsunami-like flame penetrates the wall easily and the heat melts nearby metal. The flames in Suoh still burned so that he couldn't calm down, a loud sparkling noise crackled under Suoh's feet, who stomped on the ground.

Behind the hole in the wall that Suoh opened was an entrance hall. As Fujishima said, riot police stationed with gear and a duralumin shield attached. However, they show clear confusion in the face of Suoh's flame and heat.

In the entrance to the first floor, there were people dressed in blue uniforms and hanging their swords at their waists. Unlike the riot police, they stand their ground against Suoh's flames.

"The Blues!"

Yata, who recognized their existence, released a scathing voice. Kusanagi smiled slightly to make it seem intimidating at best.

"Scepter 4" has arrived. What will you do, Mikoto?"

Suoh looked at "Scepter 4" from the second floor of the colonnade and laughed slightly.

A special task force, an elite group of "Scepter 4", is side by side, and Seri Awashima, the Lieutenant who is familiar with Kusanagi, is in charge of that.

And they are followed by Reisi Munakata, the fourth "King", the "Blue King".

Munakata watches silently, looking at Suoh from the other side of the lens of his glasses.

Suoh also silently looked at Munakata and said in a low voice.

"Burn them."

Yata thrusts his fist at the command of his "King". Led by Yata, who inspires with "Let's do it!", Kamamoto, Akagi, Bando, etc., responded like members of "Homura", raising their fists and raising their voices.

"No Blood! No Bone! No Ash!"

At the same time that he heard the voice of the “Homura” members, Suoh gently jumped over the railing with his hand in his pocket and jumped into the entrance hall on the first floor.

The intense red light bleeds and overflows from Suoh's body, who lands and stands up. It rages like a beast unleashed, swirling and swelling throughout the lobby.

The flame burns the wall, breaks the window glass and goes out.

The flame ran across the ceiling and the high heat caused the lights to fall to the floor and melt like butter.

Facing the raging flame, Reisi Munakata, the "Blue King," did not waver. A harsh blue light also overflows from Munakata's body, forming a dome-shaped wall of light that blocks Suoh's flames and protects himself and his men.

Suoh also smiled deeply at Kusanagi behind him.

Suoh's strength relaxes even more and the pressure exerted by Suoh increases.

Kusanagi looked up. There is a skylight over the entrance hall of the colonnade, and sunlight shines on it. The sky, which had been flashing with snow, was regaining blue sky now, but a red light was shining through the blue sky.

The red light that explodes in the sky swells as it distorts space, and a huge sword appears in the center.

It is a sword of Damocles.

A symbol of that person's royal authority and power status.

Suoh's sword of Damocles was huge, but it was cracked and crumbling.

"Ok."

Munakata pulled up his glasses and said.

"Control the sword with the sword. There are no clouds in our cause."

"Everyone, draw your swords!"

Awashima orders her subordinates in response to Munakata's cheerful comments.

The members of the Blue Clan, members of "Scepter 4," dressed in blue uniforms, lined up in a row, drawing their swords fluidly along with their names.

"Akiyama, Batto!"

"Benzai, Batto!"

"Kamo, Batto!"

"Domyoji, Batto!"

"Enomoto, Batto!"

"Fuse, Batto!"

"Goto, Batto!"

"Hidaka, Batto!"

Munakata, standing vertically and facing a forest of white swords, also placed his left hand on his sword sheath.

"Munakata, Batto!"

With that voice like a key, the saber opened and Munakata drew his sword in a beautiful manner. A sword white glossy leaf appears and looks up at the sky.

At the same time, the space next to Suoh's red sword of Damocles distorted and the blue sword of Damocles appeared.

Munakata unleashes his power. The barrier, "Sanctum", emitted by the "King" unfolds, and the blue light escaping from Munakata and his clansmen attacks Suoh. Suoh played the blue power with his own Sanctum without making a slight move.

Kusanagi jumps onto the railing, follows Suoh, and jumps to the first floor of the entrance hall. Followed by Yata and Kamamoto, the Red Clansmen who were behind Suoh.

Suoh and Munakata's centrally emitted red and blue powers collide and conquer.

It was Suoh with a slight smile who broke that balance.

Suoh spins the flame around his body with his hands in his pocket and slams it towards Munakata and "Scepter 4".

Munakata took off Suoh with sharp eyes, strengthened the exit of the blue barrier and reached for the fierce flame. Munakata's hair flutters in the hot air.

"Fu!"

With a little spirit of encouragement, Munakata waved the saber sideways. The flames that Munakata accepted and repelled are pushed towards Suoh and "Homura".

Kusanagi and others flew back slightly to avoid it, and Suoh was exposed to his own flames as if he was exposed to the breeze.

Suoh's flame gently melts around the body, turning into hot air.

Suoh leaned down and jumped like a beast. Break the barriers of blue power, attack Munakata and wield a fist with fire.

Munakata's sword flashes, hits Suoh's fist and plays with them. The sword and the fist that possess the power of the "King" are equivalent weapons.

Suoh laughs. The flame flutters over Munakata, and Munakata rejects Suoh's attack as if he is fighting with a sword.

Thinking it was a brilliant bullfight, Kusanagi smiled brightly, wondering if he could call his “King” bull.

"Mikoto-san! We too...!"

Yata, who was excited about the blood, showed that he had jumped before the battle between Suoh and Munakata, but Kusanagi raised his hand slightly and stopped him.

"But don't move. Don't let go."

Awashima, the member of the blue clan holds the barrier with her sword raised. Even if a clan member plunges into the battle between the kings, they will be annihilated.

Further…

(In any case, this is a sham.)

Kusanagi, with a complicated feeling, continued looking at the "King" who was fighting.

Munakata repels the flames emitted from Suoh's body with his blue sword.

"Suoh Mikoto. I understand the feeling for the death of a member of the clan. But we cannot forgive an audience so upset that it could harm people, much less retaliation that could involve unrelated citizens.''

"I don't even want anyone to forgive me!"

Suoh says that laughing and kicking. Munakata brought his sword upright and linked his left hand to the peak of the blade to catch the kick. The flame protrudes from the kicking foot and tries to swallow Munakata.

Munakata's graceful face was slightly distorted, and he could see a small amount of irritation mixed with calm.

"Do you know the state of your sword?"

The end of Munakata's words turned harsh, and the eyes on the back of the glasses sharpened to lift Suoh off. As if angry at Suoh who raised the tip of his mouth, Munakata thrust his saber with force and flew away from Suoh.

The powers of red and blue collide violently for a moment and spark.

Suoh bounced and was thrown through the air, and when he made a revolution in the air, he landed in front of Kusanagi and the others.

Munakata also slid across the ground in reaction and came down in front of Awashima and his friends. A trace from the sole of Munakata's shoe rubbed against the ground, kicking up friction heat smoke.

Munakata, who had been irritated for a moment when he rebuilt himself, returned to his cool and calm expression, and when he repositioned his position, he put the sword in its sheath.

Looking at Munakata, who was holding the sword in front of the enemy, Suoh shrugged slightly, but did not provoke further and held back the flame he carried.

Munakata approached while stomping on the ground in his military shoes, and stopped in front of Suoh.

"I'll detain you under Settlement 120. Do you have any objections?"

Munakata asks a question.

Alongside Kusanagi, Yata is taking off against Munakata in a hostile manner. Kusanagi casually appeared in front of Yata to prevent him from attacking.

Suoh laughed, her voice slightly leaking.

"But that's not true. Well, take care of me."

Suoh presented Munakata with both fists, just as a sinner would admit his sin and surrender.

Kusanagi closed his eyes for a moment, then immediately opened them and ordered in a low voice to the impressive and disappointed Yata.

"Homura", retired."

Suoh was held back by "Scepter 4." If it was Suoh's choice, then with such a "King" in place, they followed the choice of Kusanagi, who is Suoh's second in command.

++++++++++

An attack on a multinational mafia office by "Homura" and a collision between "Scepter 4" and "Homura" in the building where the office was located. After reporting the damage and further processing caused by him, Fushimi lowered the tablet displaying the report and looked at Munakata sitting on a chair in his office with messy eyes.

"Still, it was a bag that carried a lot of problems."

Munakata smiled in response to Fushimi's displeasure.

"Uncomfortable luggage is uncomfortable to put anywhere. It should at least be stored in a place that has the ability to handle it."

Munakata naturally understands that Suoh was restrained by "Scepter 4" without resistance and the members who were in the underground prison of "Scepter 4" were scared by him.

Fushimi frowned.

“Only the Captain will have the ability to handle it. As long as you have Suoh held in the basement, you won't be able to take care of him all the time."

"Yes, but I can't leave he on the streets."

Fushimi returned his gaze with a complicated expression. He was originally a member of "Homura". Both the "Red King" and the old friends have something to think about.

“If Suoh Mikoto gets out of control when I'm away, please prioritize the safety of the members over repression. Awashima-kun is too responsible, so I entrust it to you, Fushimi-kun."

Fushimi said reluctantly: "...I understand." Munakata thinks it's cute that he shows his emotions.

"Then, while still paying attention to "Homura's" movement, look for the assassin who is known as the "Colorless King"."

Munakata gets up and walks to the door.

"Where are you going, Captain?"

"I'm going to see the problem luggage."

After smiling at Fushimi and leaving the office, Munakata erased his expression and headed for the underground warehouse of the barracks.

The “Scepter 4” underground depot is a place to temporarily detain those who commit a crime.

The power possessed by a Strain, which appears spontaneously without being empowered by a "King", has various powers, including its strength, and this underground reservoir is made quite strict to maintain them.

As Munakata walks in the cold underground and approaches the entrance to the detention center, the sensor reads Munakata's iris and the lock is released. Passing through several automatic lattice doors and walk to the desired cell.

All doors have multiple electronic locks and are equipped with a Strain control device, and it is basically impossible to break them with powers. Also, in case of an emergency, there are escape prevention measures, in which the blinds also have the effect of suppressing powers in multiple layers, but all of them will be like paper boats if the King gets serious. It's an order of magnitude less powerful than the King's power, and it's an S-type that's great for anyone.

So that power comes with great responsibility. Nevertheless…

Munakata was left alone on his chest and stopped in front of a single cell.

In that dark cell, a red-haired man was lying on his bed with his back to him.

Munakata opens the cell door and enters.

A red-haired man, Suoh, a "dangerous baggage" that "Scepter 4" brought to his headquarters, was sleeping comfortably. Sleep peacefully, despite the inconvenience of having humiliating handcuffs on his hand that stifles his power.

Munakata was a man who had little emotional influence from the beginning, but only before Suoh. When he faced this guy, he got mad.

Munakata grabbed Suoh's sleeping head with one hand, lifted it, and slammed it against the wall.

A dull sound echoed through the cell, and Suoh opened his eyes, "Hm?" He doesn't look good.

"Oh, it's you."

With a face that looks like a yawn, Suoh looks at Munakata with only his eyes, his body slammed against a concrete wall.

"Suoh Mikoto. I'll get straight to the point."

Munakata sank his emotions and silently cut the matter off.

“Your Weissmann deviation is already close to the limit. If the sword of Damocles falls, it will be the reincarnation of the crater of Kanto. If you want to get more out of the Dresden Slate, I must kill you."

Only the facts are listed.

The Weissmann deviation shows the stability of the King's power. Abuse of power, lack of balance of spirit and interference of power with other kings, in particular, having a "King" kill another "King". It endangers the Weissmann deviation, which ultimately leads to the fall of Damocles, where the sword of Damocles, the symbol of the "King" falls.

The consequences of that are explained 13 years ago, when the southern region of Kanto disappeared and left a huge crater.

However, Suoh leaned against the wall, and said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Suppressing the urge to hit him, Munakata put his hand on the side of Suoh's face and looked down at him.

"I am telling you to renounce the throne."

Originally, Suoh's Weissmann deviation was dangerous. The power was great, but it had instability as if it had an excess of power, perhaps because it was not used for a definite purpose.

Originally an unsuitable man to be "King". No, maybe he's a man who can't handle the power of the "Red King". Like the predecessor "Red King", Kagutsu Genji, who died by destroying the sword of Damocles, causing destruction, ruin, and the death of seventy thousand people.

Suoh has been in the last minute so far. But now, with the death of a clan member, Suoh seems to have somehow abandoned his stability. It's like he's blaming himself, but he seems to be running straight to ruin. The fall of Damocles is inevitable if he kills a "King" in this state.

For Suoh to stay alive without causing harm, there is no choice but to stop wielding the King's power and live a quiet life.

However, Munakata himself understood that Suoh could not choose that path.

Suoh smiled a bit embarrassed, as if to be surprised.

"What you say is still not interesting, Munakata."

"Then you have to figure out how to stop for the rest of your life."

Suoh smiled slightly. Looking at Munakata with a provocative look.

"There is only one. One way to keep me locked up all the time... and that is if you, Munakata, the "Blue King", take care of me directly. In this room for twenty-four hours. If I start to wreak havoc, you will use all your power to hold me down."

Suoh's eyes glow dark red, and a red aura rises from Suoh's body like a haze of heat.

Only a "King" can control another "King". That was what Fushimi had pointed out earlier. Including that Munakata, who has the power, couldn't stay in the same place all the time.

“The fact of having to breathe the same air as you makes me sick. And unfortunately I am too busy. I can't just get involved only with you."

Munakata returns to his posture and turns his back to Suoh.

"Sorry, Munakata."

Suoh says it in a voice that can't get serious or play. Munakata comes out of the cell and looks back.

Suoh was rolling in bed again and starting to sleep. His shoulders wrapped in a white t-shirt move slightly every time he breathes.

"Me too, Suoh."

Munakata's true intention spilled out and he didn't reach Suoh, and the cell door closed to separate the two.

++++++++++

Akagi Shouhei sat on the counter seat in front of the cafe's large window and vaguely looked at the crossroads in front of Shizume-cho station.

He couldn't drink the iced coffee he bought, starts sweating on the surface of the plastic cup.

Akagi has been a member of “Homura” for about two years and is relatively new among the main members who often come and go to the “HOMRA” bar. However, two years, which is shorter than life in high school, was enough time for Akagi to decide on "Homura" as his place and to connect with his friends.

Totsuka Tatara who was killed also had the role of caring for a newcomer, so when he arrived at “Homura”, Akagi was cared for in various ways. He was a strange person with a smile and a fluffy atmosphere all the time, but he thinks “Homura” was always filled with a happy atmosphere.

Akagi will never forgive anyone who has killed a friend. Since that incident, Akagi runs every day looking for clues about the criminal. However, the result has not yet been achieved.

The other day, they went to visit the mafia office that sold the gun to the murderer, but in the end they couldn't get a powerful clue, on the contrary, Suoh and the others collided with "Scepter 4" who arrived at the scene.

"Ah, now!"

Akagi was alone and scratched his head on his cap.

Suoh was captured by Munakata, the "Blue King". Although he had even dropped the sword of Damocles, Suoh did not fight seriously for some reason, but he held out both hands to Munakata, who claimed he was breaking the agreement, and was arrested.

That caused a great commotion in "Homura".

Suoh is in the heart of "Homura". What happens? That shook "Homura".  Of course, Kusanagi, who is number two, is in charge of carrying out his own activities, and it was thought that Suoh had been arrested, but...

Akagi, who was in a bad mood, sighed once more and looked out the window.

Although it is a weekday, the front of the station is crowded with people.

Looking at the people waiting for the signal at the crossing, Akagi stared wide-eyed.

He hastily pulled his PDA out of his pocket and pointed it at the person waiting for the signal. Repeat enlarging the person who appears small, until the face is clearly visible.

"Yes."

That boy.

The boy who pointed a gun at Totsuka Tatara and pulled the trigger to take his life. Unlike the ghastly expression at the time, he looks like a harmless person and looks harmless, but this is definitely a characteristic.

The criminal who they have not been able to find a clue of so far, proudly walks down the main street of Shizume-cho, which is the territory of "Homura".

Well, Akagi bit his teeth, quickly moved his finger and sent a photo of the boy and his current position to his partner Saburota.

Akagi hurried to follow the boy's figure out the window so as not to lose sight of him.

When he left the store, just as the traffic light changed, the killer boy crossed the crosswalk. He had a red Japanese umbrella on his shoulder and a kitten on the other shoulder.

Akagi only sees the boy's rear view and follows his back as he hits a person.

The boy walked through the crowd without seeming to care about the killer and finally entered the "Kadamaya" fireworks store.

Akagi hides in the shadows and waits for the boy to come out.

When he made the concession, a motorcycle came up behind him and stopped next to Akagi.

"Kamamoto-san."

Rikio Kamamoto, a handsome man with a lot of fat accumulated around his belly, saw Akagi. He gives him a helmet and a bat.

“Get in behind. Yata-san will come here immediately. Hit it in the middle."

Akagi clenched his expression, pulled on his helmet and held his weapon tightly.

++++++++++

Kusanagi leaned against the dirty wall in the back alley and lit a cigarette.

With the torch in one hand, he instructs the members of "Homura" to lay siege to the criminal.

Smoke deeply and exhale slowly and long.

A mysterious boy who has killed Totsuka Tatara and claims to be the Seventh King, the "Colorless King". Kusanagi has no idea what he's thinking. However, no matter what the speculation is, "Homura" will see to it that he receives the damage he deserves.

When he was standing while smoking, he hears an angry familiar voice and some footsteps from the alley. They have been deployed so that he does not escape where he runs, but the boy seems to have chosen this alley with Kusanagi.

The boy who jumped out of the alley had a slender and cute appearance that looked like a girl. The appearance of rushing and running can only be seen by a good citizen who is chased by a bully, but Kusanagi, who has seen that terrifying video over and over, knows how terrifying his face can be.

"Sorry, get out of the way!"

The boy noticed that Kusanagi was on the way and made a panicky voice.

Kusanagi slowly inhales another puff of smoke and focuses his attention on the smoke coming out of his mouth. The power of the Red Clan member received from Suoh in his body is linked to the small fire at the tip of the cigarette, and Kusanagi's flame is reflected there.

At the moment, he doesn’t control the killing intent that silently erupted.

Kusanagi touches a cigarette with his thumb and tosses it into the air. The cigarette spun, and a small tip of the fire bulged out enormously in accordance with Kusanagi's will, turning into a ball of fire and splitting, flying towards the boy like a bullet.

The child stiffens and stops.

If he were the "Colorless King", he would avoid this kind of attack. When Kusanagi thought that he should throw away his innocent boy mask, a young man dressed in a black coat leapt from the sky and landed between Kusanagi's fireball and the boy.

The black clothed youth deflected all the fireballs with the palm of his right hand holding a transparent power. Furthermore, Yata, who was chasing the boy, is drawn into his hand in an instant with the power of his right hand, and silenced is knocked down with a single elbow strike.

A power like a transparent hand that compresses space and grasps distant objects, a Japanese sword worn at the waist, about 20 years old, a long black mane attached like a dog's tail. Kusanagi knew a person with these characteristics.

A young man dressed in black holds the criminal boy and quickly walks away from Kusanagi and his friends.

Kusanagi and the others, who had their prey abducted in front of them, looked in the direction in which they were disappearing.

"Damn! Who is that guy?"

Yata squeezed his elbow-struck belly and stood up, furious.

“He's the 'Black Dog', Kuro Yatogami. It has been troublesome again."

Kusanagi said, picking up his PDA.

"Well, we'll have to use the next move."

++++++++++

"Hi, it's a good night. I came to photograph the night view, what are you doing in such a place? I am Totsuka Tatara, and you?"

The sound of gunfire rang out and the cameraman, Totsuka Tatara, fell. Then the camera that fell to the ground moves and faces the person who shot. The person was still a teenager.

"I am the Seventh King, the 'Colorless King'. Waiting for people here. It's a good night. Oh, sure it's a good night!"

Awashima was watching the image on the monitor in the "Scepter 4" briefing room.

Among the members who are upset by unexpected situations, Fushimi says without changing his sullen expression.

"The urban network in Tokyo is hijacked."

"Specify the font!"

"I'm doing it now."

Fushimi's euphoric attitude isn't a compliment, but he's probably already working on it.

In Tokyo, mainly in city chains, electronic devices ranging from visions of street lamps, televisions and even personal PDAs were temporarily stolen and video of the murder was released.

The one who did it was "Homura". There is no doubt that it will be considered as a strategy of that clever person, Izumo Kusanagi.

"To catch the criminal, does he expose the death of his friend?"

Awashima was alone with a small, low voice that no other human could hear.

This is the first time that "Scepter 4" has obtained this image because "Homura" refused to investigate the case with "Scepter 4" and did not pass any information.

While it will be a great lead to proceed with the investigation, matters related to sovereignty should be kept secret only from those with powers, and that form of informing the general public is overlooked. Cannot be. It was a headache when she thought about canceling the videos that had flown and stopping the release to the media. Either way, they will soon have to ask the "Golden King" for help.

Above all, Awashima was terribly frightened by "Homura's" unwillingness to try to pursue the criminal, even after revealing the vision of how his ally was killed.

Domyouji, a young middle-aged staff member in the Information Room, looked at the screen stopped by the criminal with a pistol and said, "He is saying 'Colorless King', but he is a child like a high school student!" He is horrified.

Awashima once again looked at the face of the mystery boy who claims to be the "Colorless King".

No matter what, they have to find and catch him before "Homura".

Before the raging flame becomes irreversible.