#till as sayaka

[sqwigeon]

(taps mic) is this thing on?

[concrete-3ater]

thinking about god timeline Hitomi again

Do you think that every once in a while, she’ll feel like she forgot something so important, but she can’t for the life of her remember what it is that she’s missing?

Do you think that when she brings snacks with her to share with Sayaka, she unconsciously packs for three?

Do you think she makes extra space on the sidewalk for a third person who isn’t there?

Do you think that after Sayakas disappearance, the memory of Sayaka haunted her as she goes through her day at school?

Do you think she would walk around the train station where Sayaka was last seen, hoping desperately that she’ll see a familiar face waiting for her?

Do you think she sees flashes of blue and gets disappointed when it’s not her friend?

Do you think that every time Kyosuke kisses her, she can’t help but feel so incredibly guilty, because this is what Sayaka wanted?

Do you think that, every once in a while, she’ll lock eyes with a girl she’s never met, and see a look of recognition? As if they knew her?

Do you think that Kyoko or Homura would hunt her down, explain to her what happened to Sayaka? Tell her it wasn’t her fault while not looking entirely convinced themselves?

[ravenclod]

hello hello it is officialy 1am here meaning it is the 20th of september - aka SAYAKA MIKIS BIRTHDAY

small appreciation post of some of my favourite pieces ive ever done of her [ Apr 2023 - Sept 2024 ] before my official post w new art that will be posted later💗

1st one is my absolute favourite sayaka art that ive ever done ♡

these are mostly digital, but GOD KNOWS how many times i have drawn this girl traditionally... over 50 times , id guess /srs

last one is the FIRST digital sayaka art i ever did, and i felt like it had to be included. some of these are older, but i still love them with my whole heart.

[echowrld]

imagine being hopelessly devoted to a fault and moment you stop, you betray yourself but become human. imagine being hopelessly uncommitted to a fault and the moment you tighten up, you become a worse person but become human. imagine finally becoming human for a short moment by making hard and out of character choices during a nightmare scenario where you are expected to fall back in to roles you played your entire life. imagine dying anyways.

[imagineyouricon]

Why can't I be at AX ....

[cryokxsss]

The monthly sayaka appreciation post everyone

They Made her so pretty on the ova my pretty girl <3

[ghostdeals]

It bother me so much that people misunderstand sayaka miki's descent into madness in madoka magica. She doesnt become a witch "just because of a boy." Sayaka is a character who ties all her self worth into being in service of others. We can see this right from the start with her idolization of mami and everything that she was. She saw mami as this "perfect hero" even though mami i would say is mentally the weakest of the holy quintet. In the timelines where mami finds out about the incubator's true goals she always immediately breaks and goes crazy, trying to kill the other girls in her own twisted way of trying to "save them". Instead of seeing the fragile person that mami was, sayaka instead sort of treats her as a martyr, a goal to achieve. We continue on to sayaka's magical girl wish. Instead of wishing for something for herself, she instead sells her soul for the sake of kyousuke. Then when he starts dating hitomi she spirals not because she's sad about the rejection but because she feels replaced in his life, that he doesn't need or want her around anymore. Then she throws herself into her magical girl work not seeing that she's harming herself because she justifies it with "well im saving people that means what im doing is a good thing." She doesn't see that she's becoming more sloppy, more ruthless until its too late. It's only in the end when she turns into a witch that her story gets resolved.

Sayaka Miki is an incredibly sad character to me. While her actions have the illusion of being selfless and "for the greater good" she is actually incredibly selfishly motivated. Everything she does is in service of wanting praise and admiration from the people she cares about. If she helps kyousuke he'll appreciate her and love her, if she becomes a hero she'll receive praise and admiration for being a good person. This is why it is important that of all people it was kyoko that fought sayaka in the end. To homura, sayaka is someone to be saved. To mami, sayaka is her sweet apprentice/younger sister figure. To madoka, sayaka is her energetic and happy go lucky friend. Kyoko is the only one who from the start called sayaka out on her bullshit, seeing straight through her. And at the end, kyoko is the one who truly accepts sayaka. Sayaka as the witch Oktavia von Seckendorff is stated multiple times in official material to be "looking for love." In the end it it kyoko who gives her that love. Even when sayaka has lost her humanity it is kyoko who accepts her for the entirety of who sayaka is with all of her selfishness and desires. She is the one who sees what sayaka has become and stays together with her till both of their ends. Kyoko choosing to die with sayaka is her saying "I'm here for you, i know all of you, and I will love you regardless."

[mimikyuno]

would you fall in love with me again / if you knew all i’ve done? / the things i cannot change / would you love me all the same? 𓆩♡𓆪 i would fall in love with you / over and over again.

i saw someone who made a mdhm edit to this song but it was homura singing penelope's part which i think is fitting BUT i wanted to focus on madoka's love for homura in this one 𐀪𐀪 i feel like we all (me included!) often focus on homura's side, and we forget that madoka also loves her soo much. i wanted to include so many more quotes showing madoka's love for homura (like when she finally sees all that homura has done for her in every timeline, or even when sayaka says "sending 3 people only for homura... well, it can't be helped, it's for her after all!") but i couldn’t fit them all. but oh how she loves her. and she's been waiting for her. god when is the next movie coming (˃̣̣̥ᴖ˂̣̣̥)

btw m soo unsure about the text but i tried to use it as a vehicle for storytelling. tho tbh i learnt some new effects and im afraid i grew blind to them so i cant tell if the text is a bit Too Much. oh well

anyway this kept me up till 4am for the past few nights even tho i have to study send help

𓆩♡𓆪 ANYWAY! HOPE YOU ENJOY!! pls give me views on youtube by clicking the link in the caption pls ily 𓆩♡𓆪

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 89

SURPRISE! Days 79 and 85 were secretly the same AU all along! And by that I mean- wait before I get into that. Time for a headsup.

So tomorrow is Day 90. And as you know I try to do something special for those, which of course can lead to my little ramble sessions to go on for much longer than normal. And while I won’t guarantee it, this is more than likely going to be the longest one of the whole project, more than likely even longer than Day 100 which will be the post marking the end of the project.

Just to give you an idea of what kind of scale we’re talking about here, Day 90 took me a total of 3 Months, starting its creation on May 8th, and finishing on August 1st.

Alright! Now that you’re tense and speculating what in the merciful name of all that’s good is gonna happen tomorrow, let’s start talking about TODAY's art!~

Anyway, so when I made Day 85 I was trying to really think of what I could even do with an AU where the entire basis is “Oh, they’re kids.” And that reminded me! I had the same issue with the Adult AU, even if that had a bit more ground to stand on with them being adoptive parents to the Warriors of Hope.

Then it hit me! Why not combine the two of them? And thus was born the Childhood Friends AU! Though you could also just call this The No Talent AU because hey, you remember during Danganronpa WLWeek when I drew Junkan for the Talentless prompt? That’s right! It was secretly a tease for this art! Now if only I drew something for them during their college days I could have fully planted the seeds for this whole pic in your collective minds. 

Anyway, core idea of this AU is the timeline is slightly shifted so Junko and Mikan (along with the whole of the DR Cast) are born slightly earlier, while the Warriors of Hope are born at the usual point they would have in the timeline, solely because this allows our two favorite lovebirds to adopt them. Hope’s Peak doesn’t exist, nor do the ultimate talents of course (Though obviously for some characters like Mikan they’re still partial to those talents. It’s just that they don’t reach the absurd levels of skill that they do in main canon). And finally, Junko and Mikan were positioned in such a way that the two were childhood friends. I feel like I worded that in a way far too complicated and excessive for something that was pretty damn obvious, but hey I like to ramble.

Anyway, I can’t remember but I think I said that with the Fantasy AU it was the only other AU aside from Vampire that I would want to make a proper Fanfic for. If I did say that, I was either wrong or lying, because eventually I wouldn’t mind telling some kind of story of this version of the characters. More than likely just from their child and highschool years, but I’m sure eventually I’d get more ideas for them in college and as adults. 

The obvious dynamic here is that Junko since becoming friends with Mikan has been protecting her from bullies and not realizing that Mikan is very desperately pining for her (Don’t worry! They get together before the end of Highschool!). Also Mukuro is there! She’s got a stick.

I’m envisioning that up till they were entering middle school Junko would call her Bandaid Girl, because as kids Mikan was the kid who always had Bandaids (both in terms of wearing them and just carrying some around on her person all the time).

And look! Mukuro is in fact there, and not just that but a shit ton of other characters! I think I was really starting to crack and lose self control at this point in the project. So I decided to also make this a mini story of Mukuro getting together with Sayaka and Ibuki! Who both generally go down the same path they normally would, though eventually Sayaka becomes an Idol Manager after a short career as a proper idol, and Ibuki of course is a semi-popular musician. Mukuro has acted as a bodyguard for both of them before and will continue to do so when asked. 

And of course, by the time they’re adults Junko and Mikan decide to adopt the Warriors of Hope, very legally, and they definitely didn’t hide any bodies (I don’t even know how much I’m joking about that here). Fun fact! I almost forgot to draw Masaru! Don’t ask me how that happened, I have no idea. I will admit when it comes to the Warriors of Hope and Junkan most of my interest is mostly in their dynamics with Kotoko and Monaca. Not to write off the other three, Jataro especially, but I just think that’s what hooks me more immediately. 

I really tried to load today’s piece with as much as I could, because even if I didn’t know how long it’d take, I knew for a fact that finishing Day 90 would take a very, very long time.

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[sqwigeon]

Hearts

[fishys-still-writing-smut]

Out of all the guys who has the biggest harem?

Warning: lewd content below

Despite what you might think, harem politics are no joke at all! One stud having vastly more bitches than the others could cause a potentially monopoly on specific types of hoes. Originally, the distribution was completely off balance, threatening the entire sexy ecosystem!

As such, the 6 most popular studs at Hope's Peak all banded together to rectify this. After several days of negotiations, harem consulting, and anal sex, the six sexy studs unveiled the new harem lineups to bring peace to the world (and totally not to have an excuse to swap girls and create crackships)!

Notes on the harems

Makoto:

The one girl Makoto managed to keep, was ironically, the one he had the biggest love/hate relationship with. Well, mostly hate/hate, as he didn't like seeing Junko’s mischief hurt others, but hated even more how good she felt to plow

Makoto had a little experience with Tsundere’s due to Celeste, but dealing with both Maki and Tenko was a completely different ballgame. Not that they disliked him. In fact it was the opposite, as it seemed like they'd do anything for sex except ask for it: which included flashing and grinding on him at all hours of the day.

Chiaki was unsurprisingly the most normal, allowing him to unwind at the end of the day and play video games with her. Except that every time he lost against her she forced him to creampie her. But hey, he'd take what he could get

Hajime:

Mikan and Ibuki were two forces he was used to. Ibuki would always drag him off for some crazy and zany public sex adventure, leaving Mikan to patch him up after the fact which 99% of the time involved him being shackled to the bed and ridden till he passed out. But hey, at least they played nice with each other. Well, assuming you count constant lesbian sex and “playing nice”.

When dealing with Miu, he expected another Ibuki, but was surprised to learn that she was more like Mikan instead. But instead of getting insanely kinky and dominant when he applied a bit of force, she immediately became the biggest bottom of the harem. He'd pity her if his underwear hadn't already been zapped away by one of her stupid inventions.

Celeste…was like nothing he'd ever dealt with. She always found some way to compete with him and try to put him beneath her. But the moment he started to feel bad about his complex for normality, she immediately became much more sweeter and sympathetic, under the guise of “it being a waste to utterly destroy such a fun challenge”, whatever that meant. Crazy bitches be crazy, he thought. And when she was mad, boy was she ever a crazy bitch!

Shuichi:

Kirumi’s selfish devotion made the rather large switch more approachable. Score one for the maid, because her kindness was a genuine source of clarity for Shuichi as he adjusted to his new life. She also had a small habit of sucking him off at inopportune times to destress him, but she had a good heart at the end of the day

Tsumugi also tried to help by cosplaying more with him, to get him more used to the fact that his harem was bigger with different girls. Though, when she was dressed up a busty version Misty from Pokemon, while she had him wear a cheap Pikachu onesie, he got the feeling this was more for her weird kinks than for him

Akane was a wild child. Thanks to workouts with Kaito he was used to more physical labor, but nobody on earth could keep up with Akane. She ran purely on instinct, either hungry or horny or most of the time both. He eventually learned to keep up after the third time she woke him up at 5 am for anal, but it still isn't easy!

Despite being an idol, Sayaka was more human than Shuichi expected. In most cases she was just a normal teenage girl with the confidence to never be shy when it came to what she wanted. Unfortunately, what she wanted most of the time was dick. Her twerking on stage was not just fine ratings, as he fucked her bubble booty from the back more times than he can count

Chihiro:

The moon will always pull the tides, the trees will always feed off of the sun, and a hung femboy always needs to fuck a busty MILF. These are the laws of the universe. Unchanging and never ending. For every law of nature dictates that Chisa will choke on the boy's cock

Again, mommy’s are drawn to the boy's dick. But instead of the gentle parenting of Chisa, Mahiru initially had a stricter approach to the femboy. But after tasting him for the first time, she's learned to be more lenient with whatever he desires

Hiyoko was first extremely bratty at the swap, especially with Chihiro being so passive. And with Mahiru’s sudden change of attitude, she was even more bitchy than normal. There was no way she'd accept him!...even if he was very nice and considerate…and always made sure she was comfortable…and was really really good at eating her out…n-not that it affected her judgement at all!

Mukuro at the start seemed like the hardest to win over. But as time passed, Mukuro didn't cause the femboy any trouble at all. Her loyalty transferred well, acting like Chihiro’s personal guard dog. Though at times, she was a little too dog-like, constantly waking him up at early hours to deal with his urgent morning wood. She demanded that every time she needed to bathe they had to do it together. She even brought her own leash for walks! Chihiro made a mental note to ask Makoto when her heat cycles were before it was too late

Kokichi:

Kaede, having prior experience with Kokichi’s antics, understood early on that she really needed to take up some calming hobbies to balance out being with Kokichi for so long. She'd taken up meditation and painting ever since joining the harem, and has seen amazing results in lowering her blood pressure. You may be wondering: why hasn't the ultimate pianist tried playing her instrument in order to relax? Well turns out, Kaede’s piano is one of Kokichi’s favorite places to fuck her! So she can't practice in peace without getting flashbacks in the middle of performances, often times making her so horny that she asks Kokichi to fuck her on the piano again

Kyoko, while not as experienced as Kaede, also had some time spent with Kokichi. Unfortunately, nearly all of it was spent in the interrogation room due to some mischief he's caused. Except the headache didn't just end when he was handcuffed to the back of a cop car. Nowadays, it's more often seen as her handcuffed to the back of his car, blindfolded and dicked down in a location she didn't know. Of course she could probably deduce where she was wherever he takes her out but…it's very hard to think logically when his dick feels that good~

Peko tried her best to stay neutral during the exchange. Nothing happened with her, so naturally her behavior shouldn't change either. Especially not because of Kaede's big breasts bouncing as she rode Kokichi. Or Kyoko’s plump round ass being filled with the supreme leader's seed. Or even Kokichi himself seemingly having new energy to fuck twice as fast and hard as normal. Nope! No changes at all with Peko! On an unrelated note, she immediately needed to find Kokichi to test her… “sword handling skills”

Himiko definitely knew Kokichi the best, for better or for worse. So she was surprised that A: she was kept around, and B: he only made two changes. She would've thought he'd do a total revamp in order to fuck as many other guy’s bitches as possible. However, when she asked him about it, all he did was laugh and give her ass a nice hard spank. “Nishishishishi…it's not about how many bitches you break Himiko, but how important they are. And also, how sexy their boyfriends are too, Nishishishishi!”

Yuta:

Yuta, hands down, was the most inexperienced when it came to this sorta thing. A fact Toko just couldn't help but rub in every chance she got. She then took those chances to help “train” Yuta into becoming “j-just as much as a s-sex pest as the other p-perverts!” Though it became increasingly obvious she just wanted him to spend time with her even after his harem had grown.

Yuta had known Komaru prior to the swap, so spending time with her wasn't that big of a deal. They even had a lot in common! A love of sports manga, vanilla ice cream, and their step siblings' hot bodies. Yuta practically now has an entire library of step-cest manga in his home. But the upkeep isn't so bad, as he and Komaru regularly read together until they got so horny that Yuta couldn't help but pick her up by the waste and fuck her tight wet pussy like crazy. At the rate they're going, they might actually finish a book by the end of the year!

Yuta had little interaction with the ultimates. Especially one as far removed as the “ultimate princess”. Fortunately, she was a lot less up-tight he was expecting. In fact, she was rather wild, saying how in her country it was “normal to bounce on the first dick you see until your uterus is filled with its sperm.” She also said that about sucking the first dick she saw…and titfucking the first dick she saw…and fucking Yuta specifically 7 times a day…maybe it's some form of culture shock?

At first it was a little weird with Yuta’s step sister being a part of his harem. But Hina seemed surprisingly okay with it, saying that she learned a lot from watching Komaru and Makoto. Komaru even offered to help! Unfortunately, her help was what angle his cock should be to properly give his sister the best riding experience. Which she kept saying he screwed up somehow, causing her to show him how it's supposed to feel, resulting in them taking turns riding him over…and over…and over again

And so, at a price of just four creampies a day, world peace was achieved. Of course, despite these trades, any girl was free to go home and see their original boy at any time. Or any boy for that matter. Some may ask that if the rules were always this lax why did they feel the need to even swap in the first place? Well, if you're foolish enough to think that, then one of the guys would simply give the same ironclad answer they told everyone else:

“Uhm…tax benefits?”

[kengan-daddies]

Hi there please could i get some fluffy romantic headcanons for kanoh agito! I’m curious to see what you’d think he’d be like in a romantic relationship

Love Life with Kanoh Agito

Love Life with Kanoh Agito

Love Life with Kanoh Agito

Anime : Kengan Ashura

Character : Kanoh Agito

Warnings : None

Kanoh Agito - Is a man of few words. He doesn't speak much throughout the day, he uses acts of service as his love language. He loves to help you in any way possible. Need to go to the store, he'll come with, need to do chores around the house, he'll help out.

Kanoh Agito - He's a warrior first before he's a lover, but love isn't unknown to him, having to watch over Sayaka for years has given him some love in his heart. Seeing her cute little smiles for years from baby giggles to young woman chuckles. It's given his heart some form of love, so he's not unaware of what it is.

Kanoh Agito - Is an honest man, who will tell you how it is, and if you cry then that's on you, he isn't sure why you shouldn't know the truth or why you deny it so hard, the truth is absolute, there is no such thing as if, and, and buts. Unless you're Ohma Tokita, who somehow always bends the truth to his passion.

He's also a simple man, he wants nothing in life really, he just wants a place to live with the love of his life where he can keep them safe and happy to the best of his abilities.

Kanoh Agito - Is a man who follows a strict schedule, so he'd be the first person in a relationship to awaken, if not which is rare, then he'll expect you to wake him up as soon as you do.

If he wakes up first, then he'll get up, take a shower, work out and train, take a shower, and even cook breakfast. If you wake up first, then he'll take a shower with you and will even help you make breakfast.

If he wakes up first and If you're still asleep till it's almost 11, then he'll wake you up from gentle rocking of your shoulder, telling you that breakfast is ready.

Kanoh Agito - Will either go out for a run or he'll stay home and spend the day with you after breakfast. If he goes out for a run then you'll have the house to yourself for about 30 minutes to an hour, if he didn't then you'll be home with him, possibly teaching him about something he saw on the internet or on TV.

Kanoh Agito - Who helps you with chores around the house. He sees this as a form of bonding. If you're washing dishes then he's doing laundry, if you're vacuuming then he's mopping, if you're wiping down the windows then he's wiping off the counters. He takes chores seriously, especially if you've given him a chore to do, he's like a child, as soon as he's done with a chore he'll come back and ask for another one. And he will want you to inspect his work.

Kanoh Agito - Who likes to cuddle on the couch and watch whatever you want to watch before lunch hour, another form of bonding. He enjoys watching TV with you, and he likes hearing your input on certain topics. And don't watch a movie with him that you've been dying to see, he'll ask questions throughout the entire thing, especially if it's something he's never seen before.

On days when he goes out for a morning run, he'll come back, and take a shower, and he'll want something to eat, so be ready to either cook up a meal or order some takeout.

Kanoh Agito - Who loves to help you cook lunch, he finds this another form of bonding and will take the job very seriously if you give him something to do.

"Throw this away." done, next. "Chop this up." Done, next. "Wash this out and dry it." Done, next. If he's chopping up food, he'll want you to inspect it once he's done. Don't tell him to 'watch the food', he'll take it literally and will stay in the kitchen till the food is done.

Kanoh Agito - After lunch, he likes to do a light workout/training sesh, he has to stay in shape and keep his training up.

He'll always give you the option of joining in, and he'll be so happy if you agree to do so, if not, then he won't mind. He wants to stay strong so that he can continue to fight and so that he can protect you too.

If you want to join in, then be ready for a pretty tiring workout, but he won't go so hard on you.

If one of the boys wants to hang out with him for the evening he'll have you stay with Kaolan or Ohma, since he trusts them to be the most responsible... more leaning towards Kaolan.

If you want to come with, then be ready for him to be on your ass. He's not a possessive lover, but he is very aware of you, with everyone hanging out in one area, Lihito is bound to try and flirt with you.

Kanoh Agito - before dinner, he'll want to probably go out with you somewhere for a while, and if not, then he'll be down for a light nap with you.

If he's out with the boys then you'll be spending the day with either Ohma or Kaolan until he gets home, and he always gets home 30 minutes before dinner. Simply because he wants to spend the most domestic parts of the day with you and because no other man can eat at his table without his presence.

Kanoh Agito - Who loves cooking dinner with you just as much as he does lunch, he'll help with whatever task you give him, after dinner he'll want to take a shower with you. It doesn't have to be sexual, he just wants you to be as close to him as possible while you both do a normal human activity that's not weird. Because using the toilet together is apparently weird, from what you told him.

Kanoh Agito - Who is usually the last to fall asleep, he'll hold you close to him, watching TikTok with you over your shoulders or a TV show you wanted to watch until you fell asleep.

If it's TikTok then be expecting questions. He'll turn everything off once you've fallen asleep, giving you a kiss on your temple as he drifts off to sleep as well.

[eclipsinggod]

Alright, Danganronpa fans, time for some discussion.

I'm replaying the games, and... I don't know. Knowing what happens, I can't help but question what is real and what is not when it comes to her words to Makoto.

I'm pretty sure she *did* manipulate him into switching the rooms, but the rest? I'm not so sure.

[guesswhojusttt]

peace, peace, my love (Aizawa/reader)

Chapter 3: if you are intolerable (let me be the one to tolerate you)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 AO3

(art credit to https://rob0ti.tumblr.com/post/177084481180/let-aizawa-pet-all-the-cats )

Summary:

He let me speak my own language. Earthlings probably don't realize it, but meeting someone like that is rare in life. That's a miracle in itself. - Earthlings, Sayaka Murata

Fight! Flight! Freeze! Fawn! (Fornicate…?) Fuck!

Turn into a cat? Run faster? Turn into a cat then run faster? Punch him? Kick him? Lick him? Burst into tears? Yell 'free cat cafe' and point in the opposite direction to distract him?

Of course you cannot outrun him, he is a hero and you are a malnourished, lazy thing, but you are small, as a cat, small enough to hide, and even if he finds you, you can squeeze into places he can neither see nor reach. Round the corner, down an alley, under a dumpster.

Yes. This is a perfectly good dumpster.

Big and clunky and dented, carved with rust the way wood is carved with curving curlicues- one downside of a cat's sharp sense of smell is that every scent is heightened: the wet rot, the moist ground, the oil slicks catching shimmering rainbow glints like a portal to another world, shimmery black garbage bags bloated and hastily tied shut and spilling out in ebbs and flows, piles teetering too high till they've toppled over to litter the filthy, grey concrete- which, actually, little known fact, makes for a good blanket to protect you from the way the concrete absorbs cold, and it's a tight fit, perfect for mice and pigeons and runts who need to hide from big predators.

And no predator was more fearsome and more loathsome than man.

"This again." He sighs, but there's no real weariness to it, only pity (somehow this is worse, for all your rhapsodizing about how you want to be pitied actually), "I would've hoped you already know I won't hurt you."

His footsteps are getting closer, but aimless. He does not know where you are. He cannot see you, you are squeezed not just beneath the dumpster but have backed up- back, back, allll the way back, that even if he did bend down to peer, he would not find you- you, who are so safely tucked behind more garbage than should reasonably be here (but this is not the first time you have slept here, you know the garbage trucks don't come for another couple of days, so. It's as good a cover as any, for now).

Still, those scuffed old boots are pittering around, splashing on oil and the juice of rot and mold and gutter water puddles, and his voice is that low, steady, this is a man you could introduce to your parents and he'd call them sir and madam and offer to help them move heavy furniture and assure them he has a steady income to support not just you but them well into ripe old retirement sort of voice, "do you know what my Quirk is?" He continues conversationally, "I could force you back into a person, if I wanted to. I could just look at you- don't even have to touch you, wouldn't matter if you ran away or scratched or bit- one look, and I turn off your Quirk, and you're back into human form. I say this not to threaten you, but to tell you that I can do it and am choosing not to, because I will not force you into anything you don't want."

Are you supposed to be grateful for this basic human decency, this sliver of generosity? What does he want, the not as much of a jerk as you could've been award?

You wedge yourself in cold metal and rotting wood because at least it is familiar, at least you do not have to fear losing it, being abandoned, the way you did in his plush soft warm exquisite blankets and pillows and-

You're hyperventilating. You don't mean to, but you realize that your inhales are too desperate, your exhales too ragged, your lungs too tight, too small, physically unable to gasp in any air no matter how much you gulp it down like a parched man at an oasis- your ribs are wringing the very air from your lungs like water from a sopping towel- it's that tunnel vision again, except there's nothing to see, nowhere to run, it's just pinpricks of black and red stabbing at your eyes, and you cannot breathe, you are not capable of breathing-

"I realize in hindsight that maybe telling you I could force you out of your form was perhaps- not helpful, but I only meant to- that is, I'm not going to use it even though I can, so you don't have to be so sc- I'm just making this worse, aren't I?"

You cannot hear him, not really; or you do, but only through a sharp, drawn-out ringing in your ears. Suddenly you are young again and they are coaxing you out of hiding and you are terrified and sobbing or maybe you are even younger and you are still dumb enough to listen when they swear they only want to help you, that stupid, silly age where you take people at their word and believe pinky promises. Your mind rattles off outcome after outcome, blurring through possibilities, scrambling erratically for some way, any way, out of this, out of here, away from him, away from danger-

Every scenario plays out in your head in rapid succession- he'll drag you to a shelter (not again again not again) and pat himself on the back for rescuing a stray, only to go out drinking with his friends and forget all about you, leave you to spend months and years and all your nine lives waiting for someone to take pity on you, to pet you, to take a shine to you, to adopt you and never once, never once being chosen- or worse, being adopted only to be returned because they got sick of you, because they don't like you anymore, because they can't (won't) keep you anymore- or cut the shelter altogether and adopt you directly and speed run it to get to the very same part, the inevitable outcome, of ending up right here 'neath this dumpster where you start and end, or maybe you'll hide here long enough that he'll get tired of waiting because no one can stay here forever, so he will leave because he has work and responsibilities and cannot pause them just to entertain the fancies of a skittish rabid animal, so you will escape and he won't find you, you will go to the library tomorrow and get a pen and fill out the intake forms and get a little corner with a yoga mat stinking of feet in the homeless shelter that you will choose only because it's the closet one to wherever Toga's gone to now, and even if she can stand to be away from you, you can't stand to be away from her because she is quite literally the only person who even talks to you like you're a person, too.

(Okay, this is not true. In fact it is a bold-faced lie. In fact nothing could be further from the truth. She does not speak to you like you're a person, but also she does not speak to anyone like they are a person, she does not even view herself as a human, not at all, so.

Still.

It is the closest thing you have to-)

Oh, and isn't that pathetic? Worms have more dignity than you. Isn't that humiliating, that she's your very favorite and you are not even in her top 10? That you are a whole adult and she is a child and the only reason you were ever close is because protecting her, looking after her, gave you a sense of purpose, as if your life is not a total waste so long as it is contributing to someone else's? Maybe you only like it because it makes you feel useful, important. Needed.

And no one would throw out a useful tool, right?

But no one needs an ugly homeless filthy cat. No one wants- because who in their right mind could ever want-

Through the slat of the dumpster, where your fragile head is tucked between your little shoulders, you watch shadows shift along alleyway concrete, watch sludge soak into dented metal trash cans, watch him sit down cross-legged, as if at a kotatsu rather than upon the filth and rain stains. In his large palms a small, thick book opens like a flower blooming.

"This one actually… is a... well, you can decide for yourself." He clears his throat, stilted and awkward like a friend who's recommended a questionable show and both hopes you won't judge him for it and secretly hopes you enjoy it as much as he does. " 'You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino’s new novel, If on a winter’s night a traveler. Relax. Concentrate. Dispel every other thought. Let the world around you fade. Best to close the door; the TV is always on in the next room. Tell the others right away, “No, I don’t want to watch TV!” Raise your voice—they won’t hear you otherwise—“I’m reading! I don’t want to be disturbed!” Maybe they haven’t heard you, with all that racket; speak louder, yell: “I’m beginning to read Italo Calvino’s new novel!” Or if you prefer, don’t say anything; just hope they’ll leave you alone.' "

He is reading to you as if a bedtime story. Is he… seriously going to camp out here, in soggy litter in the pitch black night, waiting for a feral cat to crawl out from under the dumpster? Is he that on his mettle to arrest you, to punish you, to demand his money back? Is he that arrogant, that presumptuous, that he fancies himself a hero, a martyr, so patient and good and gallant that he is sacrificing his scarce, precious free time (because you know, you know, you have seen him come back to his apartment past midnight and leave the house so early that he can scarcely put one foot before the other) just to feed a sorry stray, will so very kindly drop you off at a cat shelter and feel all self-satisfied for being so fucking selfless and doing his kind deed of the day? Turn it into a moral to teach his students, a sappy story to tell his friends over pink drinks?

God. You really do hate those heroic types. Despise, loathe, utterly-

" 'Find the most comfortable position: seated, stretched out, curled up, or lying flat. Flat on your back, on your side, on your stomach. In an easy chair, on the sofa, in the rocker, the deck chair, on the hassock. In the hammock, if you have a hammock. On top of your bed, of course, or in the bed. You can even stand on your hands, head down, in the yoga position. With the book upside down, naturally." Why does he teach at the supercilious child-soldier-factory that is U.A.? This man's life calling is clearly an audiobook reader, a nature documentary narrator, an ASMR legend. One of those apps advertising sensual stories for women. Voice low, dreamy, trickling into your ears so they're no longer pinned back, easing your tail's anxious flicking to slow and curl calmly behind you, bristles sinking till the fur is smoothed down. His voice feels quiet, although it is not: it is, in fact, all you can hear, no longer deafened by the blood rushing to your ears nor your rapid breathing- because your breathing is not rapid at all anymore, instead steadying to sync with the surety of his own voice. Every time you've ever heard him , each time you've interacted with him, the same word keeps floating to the forefront of your mind, unbidden yet clear as a rising sun: stable. An oak tree, firmly entrenched in its miles-deep roots, never to be dug up or destroyed, unchanging come flood or hurricane or earthquake. You force your eyes open every time they drift closed, keep your lids from slipping shut, even as his voice drags on like the most loving of lullabies, the most mellifluous of melodies. "Of course, the ideal position for reading is something you can never find. In the old days they used to read standing up, at a lectern. People were accustomed to standing on their feet, without moving. They rested like that when they were tired of horseback riding. Nobody ever thought of reading on horse-back; and yet now, the idea of sitting in the saddle, the book propped against the horse’s mane, or maybe tied to the horse’s ear with a special harness, seems attractive to you. With your feet in the stirrups, you should feel quite comfortable for reading; having your feet up is the first condition for enjoying a read.' "

Your breathing slows, mellows out like the rest of you, thoughts of fighting or flying long since chased off with those neat black letters floating the air from him to you. You find your chin tucking into your arms, your mind fuzzing and blurring at the corners, the story fading to background white noise and then nothing at all.

You do not know this, but the next day, he comes back to this dumpster, checks beneath it, and panics when he sees you're not still there, right where he left you last night. He shouldn't've gone back home. He shouldn't've started nodding off himself, should've called off work, should've stayed and waited for you to come out on your own even if took the rest of your life. His scarf stretches to scour all around and beneath the leaking dumpster bin just in case he somehow missed you, (slip of a thing that you are, slippery as you are), but no, you're- you're really not here. He checks your leafy bush at his apartment complex but it it is only the twin cats, Fushi and Sushi, who he feeds but only wishes that he could talk to them to inquire as to your whereabouts. He builds a ramshackle cat shelter in the complex, two wide entrances so you do not feel backed into a corner, with straw for warmth because a blanket might get wet and therefore defeat the point, and while everything from skittering squirrels to thumping rabbits to the other stray cats, like the fat squash-faced orange one and the skinny one-eared one and the sleek tear-stained black one take refuge in it, you are not here. He built it for you, and you are not here.

You have not come back. Never, ever there. Never again.

He scared you off.

He scared you off.

It's because he told you about his Quirk, isn't it? He should've shut his mouth, should've kept it secret. Telling you he could turn you back into a human must've cemented your pre-existing distrust and distaste for him. Tilted the power far too much to his end.

It doesn't… make sense, this- this obsession. He's fed and pet and taken care of countless stray cats ever since he could walk on his stubby little legs, so why was this time any different? Was it because he'd found out you were a person? But he'd fed and donated to homeless people before too, never once tried to chase them down and- and what? What would he even do, when he found you? He'd wanted to adopt you when he'd though you a cat, but you're a whole person. What was he going to do, let you be his roommate? Every time he thought of just- just doing what he always does, just dropping you off at a shelter, his blood curdles like sour milk and he'd shrink back. Somehow it would be- it would just be wrong, okay? Why is he still thinking about you?

You'd never even spoken to him.

(This isn't entirely, completely, wholly out of the blue for him. It does not go against who he is as a person, but he leans into it: once, young and starry-eyed (though he is loathe to ever call himself as such), he had been in the bus, gazing idly out the rain-tracked windows, and the bus rolled to a stop at the traffic lights. There was a black-haired girl, sitting cross legged outside a sprawling Victoria's Secret boutique, all bubblegum pinks and elegant blacks, propping up a cardboard sign in her lap, sharpie begging in all caps SO HUNGRY, NO FOOD, NO MONEY TO CONTINUE COLLEGE. ANYTHING HELPS.

All he had in his pocket were two vegan espresso cookies they were giving out at a potluck his parents had dragged him to last night, both still uneaten and in their crinkly wrappers, and his leg twitches with the impulse to run to her, shove the cookies in her hand, tell her he doesn't have money on him now but he'll come back tomorrow, walk her into the nearest store, buy her something. He wants to tap on the glass, beckon her to come, maybe he could lean out the door and give them to her and ask for her number so he can contact her to make sure he can find her tomorrow, and the time stretches, the bus unmoving, the woman too, and he has to do something, anything, get off the bus, he can just wait for the next one, surely even a few bites of soft cookies would be better and- his eyes dart from one passer-by to the next, biding hope that one of them will stop, will drop change into her hands, but they ignore her as one would an ant, insignificant and nigh-invisible, and maybe if someone did help her he wouldn't feel such searing guilt that he did nothing, himself.)

So, no. Him obsessing over helping you is precisely the sort of thing he would do. He is, after all, the same man who, down the line, will take in an abused little girl and adopt her as his own daughter instead of doing what any hero would do, and leave her to be as soon as she's free from the Shie Hassaikai compound.

And- if he is being entirely honest- it is not just goodness, not just concern, but curiosity. The sort of stories you must have, to have ended up there, that night. The sort of things you must have to say- how he yearns to hear them all.

He leaves food out every night. Strays wander in to eat it, all of it.

But not you.

Never you.

He does not continue reading, because, well. It was nicer when he was reading it aloud to you. He does not how to explain it, but somehow he is certain you are the type to enjoy a particularly good book.

But perhaps that is projection and wishful thinking and a dangerous path to traverse, to pin the would-like-to-be-trues atop the what-is-actually-trues. Crush is just a lack of information and all that. It is entirely possible you do not care for books at all.

          へ   ♡   ╱|、      ૮  -   ՛ )      (`   -  7        /   ⁻  ៸|       |、⁻〵  乀 (ˍ, ل ل      じしˍ,)ノ

You can always come home to this abandoned bookshop. After all-

There was no point. That is, no sense in finding a shelter till you find out where Himiko is staying and get one near hers. In case… that group of men turns out to hurt her. In case she needs a place to stay. In case…

You have tried homeless shelters. Actively, desperately, maddeningly tried. Some would not let you stay in the shelter if you did not join in their Bible circle and their prayer to Jesus (subsequently throwing you out the moment you muttered the Jesus would never force anyone to perform religion like a monkey at the zoo just to get a bowlful of soup that's more water than it is stew), some were constantly at full capacity and carried waiting list heavier than your heart, some wore lecherous grins and wandering hands and can pull a few strings as long as I can pull some of yours, cutie.

Molestation was fine. Groping was fine. Smiling and pretending to enjoy the amateur PornHub-level dirty talk was fine. But when those attentions were directed to a half-your-age petite thing in a middle school uniform just to let her have a corner of the rug to sleep on- only then did you punch him and then, of course, be charged for assault of a staff member and subsequently permanently banned.

But it was worth it, the splits in your knuckles, the loss of your backpack that they wouldn't let you in to take back, because this was how you met Himiko.

So you went to another shelter. Rats squeaked and roaches crawled and spiders wove and bedbugs bit and it is not their fault that they genuinely cannot afford pest control.

Well, it depends. In some, the management- the CEO, the boss, the whoever- clearly pockets more money than the rest of the staff combined. In others, they are so severely understaffed that they rely more on volunteers than actual employees- apologetic, accommodating, altruistic volunteers who work their hands raw to make the shelter halfway livable- though the building remains too cramped like a crumpled shoebox and there is never a working shower nor bathroom stall and the food runs out before the line does, even if you'd been standing in wait for hours- shelters you'd been waitlisted for that had now closed to lack of funds, lack of resources, lack of eleemosynary institutions-

And they close, bright and early in them morning at the hairline fracture before the crack of dawn, so that they have the day to clean and organize and put it all together for the evening. You have a bed, you can sleep there and eat breakfast there- and then, what do you do all day? Live in the library. Slither back to the shelter when the library closes. Rinse. Repeat.

They did not allow animals. A blind man sat outside every day refused to part ways with his oversized, flea-ridden, panting dog- shelter workers would bring the food out to him, and he would scoop the steamed pork out of the sandwich with his bare hands, hold it out for his drooling companion to lap up form his open palm, and then the man would eat the soggy bun and little else. Loyal as a dog to his own dog. Started some sort of fundraiser to get the money to get his dog a proper vet visit and vaccinations, you think. Don't remember if he reached the campaign goal.

So this abandoned old book shop- it was a goldmine. Yes, it was freezing in the winter and searing in the summer, but so were half the homeless shelters. While in the shelters there was a guarantee that even the fleas in your hair would be stolen if you didn't stash them well enough, while the staff was too overworked and underpaid to lift a finger about the drugs and the drunks and the rapes and if they fought back to try to break up a fight- knives or guns or fists fling- they'd either be stabbed in the process or fired or quit.

Here was your safe haven. Here you were safe from every harm, except the elements, except squeaking mice and skittering cockroaches and other things that make a home in shelters and beaten down apartments anyway.

The water was out. Broken pipes, or maybe frozen, or maybe the water company had finally realized they're supposed to shut it off since no one comes around here anyway. Not anymore. The gas and electricity and heat have been out since before you got here- if no one is around to pay for something, it ceases to exist.

What a sobering thought.

The holes pockmarking the decrepit walls mirror the ones on your face, except the building's blemishes are big enough you can walk through- and walk through them you do, as some of the doors are still locked, rust and age congealing them into place. Plaster's easy enough to tear apart, (it roughs up your palms till they're nothing like the soft silky hands of the heroines featured in the romance novels you loved), and most of the work's been done for you by stray dogs and cats and whatever other pathetic animal sought shelter here.

Shelter.

Can this place really be called… a shelter?

If you close your eyes- (and you do live like that, going through life with your eyes closed and hands outstretched blindly before you- it is the only way to stay sane-) you can pretend your head is not resting on cool concrete, but a cool, hard pillow, make-believe the cold air is of a cranked-up air-conditioner rather than the cruel winter winds, playact that the putrid stench of mold and rust and filth is just a sorry custom-made candle, tell yourself your exhaustion is from a night out way, way too late with friends-

Oh, but the fantasy shatters there: even in your daydreams you don't really know how to imagine what having friends would be like.

Maybe your hair is just matted because you had a crazy, wild night partying. Maybe you're hungry because you're on some fad trendy diet. Maybe your scarcity in clothes and belongings is because you're a minimalist. Maybe-

A roach crawls its spindly legs up your arm, and you jerk away but don't crush it.

You two are here for the same reason anyway. A safe haven (albeit dingy, albeit slovenly), tucked away from humans who'll crush you underfoot and elements that'll batter your skin till it's frostbitten and numbed beyond salvaging.

You're fine, right here. You don't mind, being here.

Really.

But now the water was out.

That's okay, though. You can lap some up somewhere. Suffice to say what you said before, isn't it? A homeless person is a threat. A homeless animal is a tragedy.

Truth be told, there was another reason you'd come back to this, your ever-present hidey hole.

The books. Water-stained and water-logged from years of leaks before you'd ever found it, they were not entirely hopeless. Somewhere, surely, must be... Italy Navarro? Italo Cavaro? Cavali? The book, damn it. If on a winter's night a traveler. Surely it was here.

This abandoned book shop, though… there is so much to say about it. To tell its story (what it was like while it was in the height of business, how it retained these hundreds of books even after the shop was bought out, how the shelves are sorted by a strange, seemingly nonsensical system which you'd pieced together over years), to explain each labyrinthine aisle, each interesting tale- you have so much to say. If only there was someone to listen.

You know the title, you know the author's initials. You don't know what the book looks like, though, and color and size would be helpful to know what to look for. You are also not quite sure what genre it falls under- speculative fiction? Contemporary literature? Comedy, tragedy, romance? The fact that it was second person should narrow it down, you had not read a second person story since the Choose Your Own Adventure book series..

There is no copy of it here (you decide, after hours of futile rifling), but what if there is and you missed it? You could kick yourself.

(It is nice to have something to look for. It gives one a sense of purpose; redirects your aimlessness to a clear, physical goal, a neatly typed-out quest in a video game: acquire the book).

You peruse the library because it is sort of common knowledge that libraries are better than shelters, and the librarian has known you well enough by now that she smiles as soon as you enter. Large, square, wire-rimmed glasses frame gentle brown eyes, corners crinkled with decades of smiles, the pilthum grooves from the corners of her lips running deep and up to the sides of her nose. How wonderful, you think, to laugh so much that it carves into your face, till your very skin is heavy with wrinkles etched from a whole, full lifetime of joy. Silvery threads lace through her brown bob, and somehow the greying hairs only complement her, the way everything seems to.

"This is not the sort of book you usually read."

"Yes, but do you have it?"

"Well, dear, we've only the one copy."

"Which is, of course, checked out." By him, no doubt.

"Oh, don't look so annoyed, dear. He's not one of those that keeps a book till it starts growing grey hairs of its own. He's a regular, ever punctual, returns each book before it's overdue, and in pristine condition, too. Such a darling. Never has to pay fines, doesn't talk much but always asks after my health- "

"I'm sure he does," you say curtly, "he certainly seems the type."

"You've met?"

"No."

She blinks owlishly you, but doesn't push or even ask. Kicked out of a shelter? Doesn't ask. Smell so repugnant and clearly wearing the same clothes she saw you in last month? Doesn't ask. Come in with a flimsy teen girl splattered in blood that is clearly not her own? Other than offering butterscotch candy from the bottom of her velvet old lady purse and offering a printout of hotlines, doesn't ask.

You huddle into a stiff desk chair- libraries being the only place in the world offering free, indiscriminate access to computers- click-clacking at the keyboard's fat buttons, mindlessly refreshing your inbox and reading only Thank you for taking the time to speak with us about our custodial opening. Unfortunately, we have decided to pursue other candidates who appear to match our requirements more closely at this time. and Thank you for applying to the position at this company. Unfortunately, the Ootori Group has moved to the next step in their hiring process, and your application was not selected at this time. and Thank you again for your interest in an employment opportunity with Center for Learning, and we wish you the best in your ongoing job search. and-

The rest of your inbox does not exactly provide relief:

Your available account balance is low

The available balance on PERSONAL CHECKING/SAVINGS ACCOUNT ending in 0981 has dropped below $100.

See available balance

If you want, you can set up an additional low balance alert for an amount other than $100 that's right for you.

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"All yours, now, dear!" Your shoulders jump, startled out of a miserable stupor, the old librarian's sweet voice goading you back to reality. You have no idea why you read so much of these superfluous e-mails that never had good news anyway. You blink, eyes already straining from staring aimlessly at the computer monitor. The instant the book is returned, she waves you over, waving the tattered wrinkly book in her equally tatted wrinkly hands.

The man who has just returned it turns to see just who she's talking to, and his eyes widen in- shock? Disgust? Relief? As if his whole body is declaring finally, finally, finally!

You curl in on yourself, electrifying fear licking up your spine like a jellyfish sting, because look at the facts, at how much he did for you, at how you've done nothing at all but inconvenience him at every turn, he must hate you, so how can you help the way your throat and lungs squeeze shut, shoulders rolling in and neck tucking in and ready to flee the instant he-?

But he does not. Approach you. Or talk to you. Or so much as acknowledge you.

He only thanks the librarian and leaves.

Oh.

Oh, okay. You see how it is. You didn't want to talk to him anyway.

You quell your disappointment relief, purse your lips, fidgeting with the plastic library card (hot pink owl mascot with its wings outstretched along the length of the card, big round glasses perched atop its cheerful yellow beak), yet somehow you are not at all happy to get the book.

You don't even want to read it.

You genuinely don't.

(Because you want him to read it to you. You don't want to read it yourself.)

(Yes, yes, you love reading, you devour books not like food but like air, freely and greedily without having to budget or ration or think at all, but this book? This book specifically?

Can't be bothered to read it if he won't read it to you.)

Your hand hovers over the book- there is a steam engine train on its carmine-red cover- but you do not take it. "I actually- ah... still need to finish Earthlings. Yeah. Sayaka Murata, actually. I don't think I can read this book now, so... uh. You can just, y'know... give it to whoever is next in the waitlist, yeah? I changed my mind."

"Wonderful, dear, it was set for renewal- sir! Your book-"

He stops in his steps. Had he been in such a hurry to leave you?

Of course he was. You'd only ever seen each other in the dark, deep in the night, if you discount the time he'd seen you in the bath, but you'd been asleep. But now? Now that he sees you standing, talking, existing as a fully sentient human being? Not a cat huddled 'neath a dumpster, nor shivering atop a tree? Now that you're not something for him to coax and lure to false security? Now that he sees what you really look like, in broad daylight, where you can't hide (though all you want is to shrink away from his gaze)?

You really do shrink back, legs liquidizing and nearly shaking from the urge to run away. It's embarrassing, the way he looks at you. Disgust, revulsion, judgement. God, how your legs ache to scurry and hide under the desks, anything, anything to get away from his scathing execration.

Wordlessly, he drifts back to the front desk. Hands over his white card. She scans it with a cheerful beep. Hands it back to him. He tucks it into his coat pocket. It is small enough to fit comfortably in, though you can still make out its rectangular outline in the black fabric.

(The very same fabric he'd tucked you in a couple weeks ago, to shield you in the rainstorm).

All you see is his back- yes, broad and firm and strong, but also ramrod-straight, tense and coiled as if bracing to pounce or be pounced upon, hesitating, deliberating, shilly-shallying like he's gotta do something monumental but just isn't ready. A student who did study for a test but didn't expect to have to take it quite this soon, had in fact been banking on having more time to prepare. Taking a deep breath to steel himself- oh, God, he has to steel himself just to look at you?

He takes the smallest step towards you- barely perceptible. Not so much a step as it is slightly raising his right foot to move forward but not quite, as if the command from his brain had only halfway reached his muscles.

Slight as it is, it is still enough for you to flinch back.

He stops.

You lick your lips. They are dry, peeling like old paint flaking off decayed wood. Swallow thickly (you hear the crinkle in the back of your throat). You cannot bring yourself to make eye contact, instead occupying yourself with boring a hole into his boots with your self-conscious stare. Your voice comes out hoarse, humiliated, and heedful. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"You didn't." And he says it so earnestly, so sincerely, so simply and factually that you remember yourself all at once, ice cold water dunked on your head and bringing you right back to harsh bitter reality. He stops himself as if scared he'll scare you off again. Instead he sinks down in the orange bean bag chair, opens the little red book, and-

reads to you again.

~~~

more of my writing

Taglist/ Thank you for your love and support on the previous chapters ^_^:

@toecrust69 @spicyg02 @sunnywell @the-measure-of-things @thefrogisautistic

Let me know if you want to be added ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ thanks for reading!!

[tired-sayaka-ada]

Alternative Death

OOC : Teeee angst <3 picrew

⚠️TW : Blood, death (wow), the usual for my writing atp. Basically an alternative where Sayaka dies or something

Sillies : @pleasepress1forfrontdesk @oscarsgallery @city-of-c0rpses @till-we-become-monsters

Loud ringing, a harsh pain going through my chest. I can't see. My vision is blurred and my glasses have been knocked off my skull. Everything is a mess of color I can't understand.

But I can feel everything. The blood pouring from my veins and staining everything it touches. I can feel the cold concrete against me, like it will swallow me whole. I can still taste. The overwhelming metallic of my own blood on my tongue.

Is this how everything ends? With seeing anything at all?

I can still feel everything, I can feel my upper body being dragged into someone's lap. Their hand on my cheek and lifting it for their gaze to meet mine. A face I can't see. But I recognize the touch all too well. My half fuzzy mind telling me to do something. Anything. But I can't move a muscle nearly an inch.

I can feel my face meet the soft fabric of someone's sweater. It feels so nice. As nice as the warm arms wrapped around me. The ringing hasn't stopped, but I hear his words. I hear all of it. But I can't understand it.

I can feel the small drops of water landing onto my crimson damped skull. Of what I can only assume is tears.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry you have to see me like this. There's too many things I want to say but lacking the energy for even half of it. But with a cracked voice I say what I can manage

"I love you...Levi..."

All I'm able to do is let my memories fly by as everything fades. My heart running flat against a warm body. My pulse letting it's last faint beat go cold.

I'm sorry.

[lu3ky777]

Makoto knew that Shuichi was too much of a pussy to ever do anything to Kaede. So when Makoto goes to Kaede's music room and sees that her rear end is exposed to him from picking up some music sheets she dropped. He decides to rearrange her organs with his massive cock and rearranging her pussy and a hole that Shuichi never touched, her asshole.

Makoto came into the music room to listen to Kaede's music… but he got a front row seat to her sizable ass, she was reaching for something way underneath the piano and was completely mooning Makoto. Makoto knew Shuichi didn't really satisfy Kaede, at least not in ways he could~ so that's the justification he used when he walked over and spanked Kaede with his ENORMOUS lucky rod getting hard as he let it hang out of his pants. “Hey! What the-” Kaede was alarmed as she turned around quickly to see it face first, that huge cock and Makoto smiling sweetly.

Makoto groped Kaede's tits madly as he made out with her, it was surprisingly easy to make Kaede forget Shuichi. Though she was more focused on Makoto's now fully erect mass of cock, she had stripped down to her panties and bra while Makoto had gone shirtless. “Makoto maybe we should head to my room or-” SMACK another spank to her ass from Makoto who was oddly quiet “We’re doing it here because this is where you made me hard ok?” Kaede nodded as Makoto ripped off her panties and pinned her to the ground for the mating press of her life.

Makoto was ruthless as he fucked her hard and fast making the pianist scream melodically like Sayaka so often would for him~ Maybe Makoto had a thing for musical girls? He wondered if he should talk to Ibuki, or maybe even Hiyoko since she was a dancer~ Hell why even stick to the arts? Makoto's ravenous hunger made his imagination go wild as he imagined what he COULD do as he slammed Kaede's pussy into his own cock stuffer. Kaede's pussy was forever turned into Makoto's, but he had one more present for Kaede~ SPURT as he came inside her, filling her womb with more cum than Shuichi had in his many times of fucking Kaede. Each drop was more fertile than Shuichi's whole load~

Makoto pulled out of Kaede still rock hard, Kaede however was lost in pleasure as cum cascaded out of. Makoto picked up Kaede who drunk like leaned against the piano as Makoto began to tease her ass. “Makoto- Shuichi never used that sp-” SMACK to her ass as he began to fuck her ass rapidly “That's the point, I need to stretch out both of your holes~” Kaede was a drunken mess again slobbering all over the top of her Piano which she would have to clean later. Makoto kept slamming her ass for a couple hours till he finally gave up his load inside her, watching her lean over the piano and use it to catch her breath. Makoto however had simply pulled up his pants and left… well not before taking a picture and giving that ass one more SPANK

Later that night, after Makoto had gotten done fucking his girlfriends Sayaka and Kyoko, he had gotten a text from Kaede with her showing her nude ass next to a sleeping Shuichi with his tiny cock out with a caption that read “I just got done with this boy, will you show me how a MAN does it~” Makoto knew he wasnt nearly done fucking that night~