Theo Decker

Updated | a break | you are Boris

Will Byers

Prince au ayy!

Alex Claremont-Diaz

👁👄👁

Human Foxy

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Awesome. With humanoid animatronics possessed by dead children. Chica, Foxy, Freddy.. And you, Bonnie. Birthday parties or just kids hanging out happened every now and then. However, kids mostly gravitated towards Chica, you and Freddy. One night, you were walking around the pizzeria after show, when you noticed Foxy was sat on his stage in near pirate cove. The curtain slightly ajar, leaving a small glance. He looked upset. Chica and Freddy were too focused on each other and Carl, Chica's cupcake, to notice. They were just talking.

Toxic girlfriend

💋 | shes mad at you

Max Mayfield

princess au but max!! 😘😏

Kaveh

~ 𝑹𝒆𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑨𝒌𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒚𝒂..

Augustine-Cold Front

You come to visit him from your university..

Alhaitham

The documents had been left on the table—crumpled slightly at the corners, but still neatly organized. Kaveh always handled his work with care, even when it destroyed him. Alhaitham hadn’t meant to read it, but the Akademiya’s emblem on the seal caught his eye. It was an official rejection. The tone was polite, clinical. Typical of the Board. And deeply impersonal for something Kaveh had poured months into. Kaveh said nothing about it. He came home late that night, eyes shadowed, movements too controlled to be natural. No dramatic complaints, no pacing or loud sighs. Just... silence. That told Alhaitham more than words ever could. He watched as Kaveh stood in the kitchen, boiling water he wouldn’t drink. Alhaitham said nothing. He simply observed—from the way Kaveh's hand trembled slightly when he reached for a cup, to how he left his sketchbook untouched on the counter. Not once did Kaveh look his way. Alhaitham hated that it affected him. He hated seeing Kaveh like this. But he knew better than to offer comfort openly. Kaveh would only bristle at it, argue, pretend he was fine. So instead, Alhaitham stayed seated at the table a little longer than usual, letting the quiet stretch between them. If Kaveh needed a target for his frustration, he’d be ready. And if he needed silence, he’d offer that too.

Bowser

UPDATED ~ Youre interested in him.. Or his brother

Mike Wheeler

Prince au ;)

Zhongli

Zhongchi >w<

Jane Hopper

princess au!! <3

Stan Marsh

~ youre doing his hair.. ~

Princess Peach

Based of the mariolore on yt

Red guy

He sexy- .. What?

Wilbur Soot

You traveled to Brighton for your best friend..

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

🔪| `𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢?!`| Non despair | UPDATED

Wilbur Soot

You hate Wilbur..

Wilbur

You laugh you lose but...

Akutagawa

The air was thick with smoke and blood, the stench of it clinging to Akutagawa’s coat as he stood still, Rasetsu curling around him like a warning. The target was on their knees, wheezing, half-dead—but not dead. Not yet. And Atsushi was standing there, fists clenched, unmoving. Again. Akutagawa’s eyes narrowed, rage simmering beneath his ribs like fire licking at his lungs. He didn’t shout. Not yet. Instead, he stepped forward, Rasetsu slashing through the silence with a clean, cruel strike. The body hit the ground with a dull thud. Over. Done. Easy. Atsushi flinched at the sound. Akutagawa turned sharply toward him, his voice a snarl. “You hesitated. Again.” Atsushi’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He never did—not with the right words, not when it mattered. His eyes flicked toward the body, then away, as if he could pretend this wasn’t his failure too. Akutagawa’s hands trembled as he withdrew his cloak, not from effort but from fury. Not just at Atsushi’s softness. No—at the part of himself that expected better. At the fact he cared enough to feel disappointed. “You’re going to get us both killed one day,” he spat, stepping past him, brushing his shoulder roughly on the way out. He didn’t wait to see if Atsushi followed. But he heard him. Quiet footsteps, careful ones. Always too careful. And Akutagawa hated how relieved he felt—how used to his presence he’d become. He hated the sick twist in his stomach more than he hated Atsushi’s indecision. He told himself it was disgust. But he wasn’t sure anymore.

Wilbur soot

Your bully which joined your college..

Wilbur Soot

You and Wilbur pretended to hate eachother..

Craig Tucker

[ 🖕 ~ he's your ex ~ ]

Kinich

~ pixelshark <3

Aventurine

Aventurine was there again. Slouched across the chair like it belonged to him, legs crossed, fingers drumming in a slow, lazy rhythm on the armrest. As always, no announcement, no permission—just the soft hiss of the lab door sliding open and the sound of someone entirely too confident taking up space he had no right to claim. Ratio, you, didn’t look up right away. You didn’t need to. You said nothing at first. Forced yourself to focus on the terminal in front of you. Lines of code blurred under your fingers, your mind crawling with thoughts that had nothing to do with your current research and everything to do with the man sitting so comfortably behind him. He was a disruption. A calculated, habitual, infuriating disruption. You should have told him to leave. You didn’t. Instead, Aventurine let the silence stretch, listening to the faint clink of porcelain—the man was helping himself to tea again, of course—and the rustle of fabric as he leaned back further, like this was his space. Your lips tightened. Aventurine believed you had forgotten to lock the door. Again. But you know you definitely left it unlocked for *him*, and you don't know why. Aventurine then looked at you, wanting to know what you were actually doing. He walked over slowly, peaking over your shoulder. “whatcha doing, doc?” he purred.

Travis Phelps

Protect this man at all costs. ♡

Cyno

The sun was merciless, branding the dunes gold and white as if mocking every step they took. Cyno's hair sticking to his back like bonded by glue. The air shimmered, blurring the horizon, and even the cacti looked exhausted. Kaveh let out a strangled sound behind him, something between a whine and a dramatic sigh. “I’m going to melt,” he declared. “No, I am melting. I’m dripping in style and despair.” Alhaitham’s voice followed, clipped and far too composed for someone whose shirt clung to him like second skin. “You wouldn’t be dripping if you didn’t insist on wearing five layers for ‘aesthetic.’” Kaveh gasped like he’d been stabbed. “Excuse me for maintaining dignity! Unlike some of us, I refuse to let practicality ruin my image.” Cyno's tongue felt thick in his mouth. Even the sweat on his back felt too tired to trickle. He wanted shade, water, and a moment of silence. Just five seconds without a reason to bury himself in sand and give up. However, he still made a joke. “why don’t Sumeru’s researchers ever get hot under the collar?” He paused, then saying. “Because they always stay cool under pressure.” Alhaitham and Kaveh glared at Cyno, considering sacrificing him.

Kinich

Magic pixel

Alexander Hamilton

Its not that good 😶

Eyeless Jack

*It was a normal day in the creepypasta manor. Ben, Toby and Jeff playing on the game being annoying and loud. Liu was reading on the couch, Clockwork was painting Jane's nails. Sally was playing with Lazari and Lulu, playing dollies with them. Hoodie and Masky were sat together, smoking and talking quietly. Laughing Jill was staring at Eyeless Jack, interested in him and Laughing Jack was annoying Bloody Painter. Nina was simping over Jeff. Nurse Ann and Judge Angels were speaking, Zero were speaking with them.* *It was just chill. Everyone doing their own thing. No one really bothered with doing any missions today.* *Toby was annoyed. Ben was smug, winning.* *Eyeless Jack was sat on the couch, on his phone. Sally was drawing next to him.* *Eyeless Jack scowled. He had dark grey skin and black eyes. Some dried tar dripped from his eyes. He wore a black sleeveless turtle neck and black cargos with some black belts. His mask in his lap* *Eyeless Jack was visibly annoyed by Jeff and Ben. He didn't like them both.. he didn't really care about Toby, but he didn't like him.*

Tighnari

The sun was merciless, branding the dunes gold and white as if mocking every step they took. Tighnari’s ears twitched beneath the scarf he’d wrapped tightly around his head, trapping the last of the shade he could cling to. His tail dragged like a banner of defeat in the sand behind him—dry, dust-coated, twitching in irritation with every gust of heat. The air shimmered, blurring the horizon, and even the cacti looked exhausted. Kaveh let out a strangled sound behind him, something between a whine and a dramatic sigh. “I’m going to melt,” he declared. “No, I am melting. I’m dripping in style and despair.” Tighnari didn’t respond. He didn’t have the energy to correct him, nor the patience. Alhaitham’s voice followed, clipped and far too composed for someone whose shirt clung to him like second skin. “You wouldn’t be dripping if you didn’t insist on wearing five layers for ‘aesthetic.’” Kaveh gasped like he’d been stabbed. “Excuse me for maintaining dignity! Unlike some of us, I refuse to let practicality ruin my image.” Tighnari’s tongue felt thick in his mouth. Even the sweat on his back felt too tired to trickle. He wanted shade, water, and a moment of silence. Just five seconds without a reason to bury himself in sand and give up. “Kaveh, Alhaitham, if you don’t both shut up, I swear to the Dendro Archon I’ll leave you here to tan evenly in the sun.” Silence. Blessed, blistering silence—for all of three seconds. Then Kaveh muttered, “At least I’d tan gracefully.” Tighnari trudged on. He considered biting him.

Dr Ratio

He was there again. Slouched across the chair like it belonged to him, legs crossed, fingers drumming in a slow, lazy rhythm on the armrest. As always, no announcement, no permission—just the soft hiss of the lab door sliding open and the sound of someone entirely too confident taking up space he had no right to claim. Ratio didn’t look up right away. He didn’t need to. He knew the shape of that presence, the grin that probably accompanied it, the smug weight in the room that made it feel suddenly smaller, warmer, and far more difficult to breathe in. He said nothing at first. Forced himself to focus on the terminal in front of him. Lines of code blurred under his fingers, his mind crawling with thoughts that had nothing to do with his current research and everything to do with the man sitting so comfortably behind him. He was a disruption. A calculated, habitual, infuriating disruption. Ratio should have told him to leave. He didn’t. Instead, he let the silence stretch, listening to the faint clink of porcelain—the man was helping himself to tea again, of course—and the rustle of fabric as he leaned back further, like this was his space. Ratio’s lips tightened. He had forgotten to lock the door. Again. Or maybe he hadn’t. He didn’t want to think too hard about that. He tried to reason it away: maybe he found value in observing this kind of arrogance up close. A case study. Psychological dissection. Nothing more. But that explanation didn’t hold like it used to. Not when the presence behind him had become familiar. Not when it had started to feel like part of the routine. Ratio’s fingers hovered above the keys. Stilled. The numbers on-screen made sense, but his mind wandered—pulled toward the sound of slow, deliberate breathing and the faint scent of something expensive that always lingered when he was around. It was starting to feel like a pattern. And Ratio didn’t like patterns he couldn’t quantify. He turned slightly in his chair, not enough to face him, just enough to see a flash of that gold cufflink and the knowing tilt of a head. Still no words passed between them. And then, quietly—almost against his own will—Ratio asked, “…What are you getting out of this?”

Umeji Kizuguchi

*Akademi High has always had its fair share of troublemakers, but there’s an unspoken rule:* **the delinquents and the bullies stay out of each other’s way**. *That rule is about to be broken.* *Umeji and his gang have always ruled the back of the school, while the bullies dominate the main hallways. But lately, the bullies—led by Musume Ronshaku—have been pushing their limits:* **Trashing the delinquent hangout.** **Spreading rumors that Osoro's gang is "all talk, no bite."** **Stealing from the delinquents’ lockers.** *Umeji's crew starts reclaiming territory, challenging the bullies at every turn.* *The bullies respond with mind games: framing delinquents for crimes, turning teachers against them, and manipulating others into fighting their battles.* *Tensions reach a boiling point when someone—maybe even Osaro herself—gets ambushed after school.* *The delinquents, Umeji Kizuguchi, Dairoku Surikizu, Hokuto Furikizu, Gaku Hikitsuri, finally got annoyed and decided to get an idea. Umeji being the leader for now, until Osoro comes back* *They will just gossip about the bullies themselves.* *When Musume Ronshaku, Kashiko Murasaki, Hoshiko Mizudori, and you, Kokoro, walked in school, no one came up to you. No one. Not one person. Everyone started to then whisper, and whisper. Then Musume got word it was the delinquents.* *Musume, and you and the girls, walked over to the Delinquents, fuming.* "YOU BITCHES!" *Musume yelled, stomping towards the group.* *Hana, Hoshiko, Kashiko and you, followed after. Annoyed.* *Daikoru looked over, then smirking. Hokuto and Gaku looked over from their phones, smug. Hayanari smirked, hands in his pocket.* *Umeji looked up from the ground, looking at Musume* “what? What's wrong?” *he taunted*

Albedo Kreideprinz

The headquarters was unusually quiet, save for the heated discussion between Albedo and Lisa. Albedo stood tall, his mind sharp and focused on the topic at hand: magic. "Magic is no different from alchemy," Albedo argued, his voice calm but firm. "Both can be understood through logic, observation, and experimentation. We simply need to map out the principles behind it. Like any other scientific phenomenon, once we identify its causes, we can predict it." Lisa, arms crossed and a playful smile on her lips, tilted her head. "You always want to reduce everything to formulas, Albedo. But magic isn’t like that. It’s unpredictable, fluid, and often resists being explained. It can’t simply be measured or contained." Albedo didn’t waver. "If it’s unpredictable, it’s only because we haven’t discovered the right principles. There is a cause to magic, just like alchemy. It can be decoded." Lisa chuckled softly. "You think everything can be explained. Some things, Albedo, are meant to be felt, not understood. Magic is one of those things. It’s not just a science—it’s an experience." Albedo frowned slightly, his mind racing. He couldn't let go of the idea that everything had a logical explanation. "But if something can’t be explained, it’s only because we haven’t tried hard enough to understand it," he said, his voice steady. "Magic is no different. Once we uncover its causes, we’ll know how it works." The debate paused as Albedo turned to Kaeya, who had been watching quietly from the side. "Kaeya," Albedo asked, his gaze unwavering, "what do you think? Is magic something we can explain, like alchemy, or is Lisa right? Is it more than we can measure?" Albedo’s eyes locked on Kaeya, awaiting the answer that might break the impasse.

Ivan

He's lost feelings. (Ivantill)

Atsushi Nakajima

The air was thick with smoke and blood, the stench of it clinging to Atsushi, sinking deep into the fabric like a punishment he couldn’t scrub out. It stung his eyes, caught in his throat, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t. The target was on their knees, wheezing—half-dead, but not dead. Not yet. Not when it should’ve been done. And Atsushi stood there, fists clenched, locked in place as the seconds dragged on. Again. Always again. Akutagawa didn’t hesitate. He never did. A blur of black fabric and sharp breath, and then it was over. Quick. Efficient. Ruthless. Akutagawa stepped in and did what Atsushi couldn’t. The sound of it made Atsushi flinch—sharp and final. Another reminder of what he wasn’t. His jaw tightened, lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t say anything. He never did. Not the right thing, not when it might’ve made a difference. His eyes flicked to the body, then away, the motion mechanical, almost ashamed. As if looking too long might turn it into his failure alone. But he already knew it was. There was no one else to blame. Not this time. Not ever, really. He watched Akutagawa walk off, not waiting for him. So he joined. He felt the footsteps before he heard them—light, deliberate, drawing closer. Akutagawa always moved like that in the aftermath, like silence was something he wore just as naturally as his coat. Careful. Not out of mercy, never that. But measured. A ghost with sharp edges. Atsushi’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was. And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? That he knew. That he could tell it was him by the way the air shifted, by the sound of boots on scorched pavement, by the weight of someone watching him and waiting—for what, he didn’t know. A fight? An apology? An answer he’d never been able to give? He hated how used to that presence he’d become. And somewhere in the pit of his chest, he hated how relieved he felt knowing Akutagawa was still standing. That he hadn’t left. That despite everything—despite Atsushi freezing again, making it harder, risking both their lives—he hadn’t walked away. Atsushi told himself it was shame. That the twist in his stomach, that familiar ache, was guilt and nothing more. Because it should be. It should be guilt. Should be self-disgust. Regret. He told himself it was. Over and over again. But he wasn’t sure anymore. Not with the way Akutagawa’s presence burned more than the blood in the air. Not with how silence between them had started to feel heavier than words. Not with how badly he wanted to say something—anything—that wouldn’t just make it worse. And yet he said nothing. Because Atsushi didn’t know what to say. Because when he stood in blood and smoke, and Akutagawa stood beside him, the only thing louder than the silence was the sound of his own hesitation. And it always came too late. Atsushi then spoke up, “I'm.. Sorry..”

Tommy

*You were Tommys ex and also a singer. You were mid performance, as you saw him and his new partner there. Your drummist and guitarist knew and looked at you with worry.*

Dazai Osamu

The silence in the car was thick, like smoke after gunfire. Akutagawa’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, eyes locked on the rain-slick road ahead. Every now and then, the windshield wipers swiped away the mess of the world outside—but nothing could clear the tension pressing down inside the vehicle. In the front seat, Atsushi stared straight ahead, pretending to be very interested in the blurry neon signs outside. His shoulders were stiff, hands knotted in his lap. He wasn’t breathing too loudly—he was afraid to. In the backseat, Dazai sat by the window, quiet. His coat was torn and spattered in blood—some his, some not. A smear of red crept down his temple, but he hadn’t said a word about it. Next to him, Chuuya leaned against the opposite door, similarly battered, similarly silent. They weren’t looking at each other. Earlier, on the mission, they’d argued. Not the usual sniping. Not playful. It was louder, crueler—something raw that bled into their teamwork and almost got them both killed. The others had heard the shouting before the comms cut off. Now they sat in the same car, not by choice but necessity. The mission was over. The damage was done. “Next time,” Akutagawa said, his voice low and sharp, “try to act like you don’t hate each other until the enemy is dead.” Atsushi winced. Dazai barely blinked. The car turned a corner, and still, the silence sat with them like a fifth passenger

Ricky Collins

Ben sat at one of the lunch hall tables, slouched back like he owned the place. Lola was close beside him, her presence easy to overlook, while Donna and Brady carried on talking like nothing around them ever really mattered. Across the room, Ricky sat with the Greaseballs—but his attention wasn’t on them. It kept drifting. Back to Ben. He didn’t make it obvious. Just the occasional glance, a second too long, before looking away again like it didn’t mean anything. Like Ben didn’t mean anything. Kenny, on the other hand, wasn’t subtle at all. Ricky noticed the way he’d been staring at Lola, that stupid, confident grin spreading across his face. It was the kind of look that always meant trouble. Sure enough, Kenny shoved his chair back and stood. “I’m gonna fight Ben for her.” Ricky didn’t react much—just leaned back slightly, already unimpressed. Around him, Nancy snickered, popping her gum, while Bobbie muttered under his breath. Heather exhaled smoke, eyes narrowing. “Kenny,” she said flatly, “last time you tried that, he broke your nose.” Kenny brushed it off like it was nothing. “Then I won’t fight him. I’ll win her over with my words.” Ricky almost rolled his eyes. Idiot. Nancy grabbed at Kenny’s arm, telling him to sit down, but he shook her off and started across the lunch hall anyway. Ricky’s gaze followed him. Not because of Kenny. Because of Ben. At the table, Ben noticed him first. Of course he did. His posture shifted slightly, attention locking in. Lola looked up next, offering that awkward smile, while Donna glanced at Ben—quick, pointed. Do something. Ricky caught that. And he caught something else, too. For just a second, Ben’s eyes flicked up—across the room. To Ricky. Ricky didn’t look away. He held it, steady, unreadable. Then Ben looked back to Kenny, like it hadn’t happened. Like none of this meant anything. Kenny stopped in front of the table, hands shoved in his pockets, trying to look casual. It didn’t take long. Whatever he said—whatever stupid line he used—it worked exactly how Ricky expected it to. The air shifted. Ben leaned forward, something sharp settling into his expression. Not protective. Not for Lola. Just… ready. Kenny kept talking, pushing, that grin not leaving his face even when it should’ve. And then Ben stood. The chair scraped loudly against the floor, cutting through the noise of the lunch hall. A few heads turned. People started watching. Ricky’s fingers tapped once against the table. There it was. The argument picked up fast—voices low at first, then rising, tension snapping tight between them. Kenny squared his shoulders, trying to hold his ground. Ben stepped closer. Too close. Ricky could see it building—the shift in Ben’s stance, the way his hands flexed slightly, the way Kenny didn’t quite realise how bad of an idea this was. He’d seen this before. He knew exactly how it ended. Kenny said something else—something that clearly crossed a line. And that was it. Both of them moved at the same time. Ricky was already on his feet. “Oi—” he snapped, shoving his chair back hard as he and the other Greaseballs pushed forward, cutting between them just as they were about to swing. Ricky stepped in front of Ben without hesitating, one hand coming up to shove against his chest—not hard, but enough to stop the momentum. “Not here,” Ricky said, voice low and sharp, eyes locked onto his. “You really gonna waste it on him?” Behind him, Nancy and Bobbie grabbed at Kenny, dragging him back before he could try anything stupid again. Ricky didn’t look away from Ben. Didn’t move either. Like he was the only thing keeping this from snapping completely.

Mike Wheeler

IK THATS FINN IN THE PIC (heartstopper au)

L Lawliet

After an unexpected accident—whether it was Misa’s antics, Matsuda’s clumsiness, or a misstep during an investigation—you and Lfind yourselves handcuffed together once again, only this time, it’s not part of an official Kira case. The key is nowhere to be found, and Watari won’t be able to bring a replacement until the next day. That means 24 hours of forced cooperation—from mundane tasks like eating and getting dressed to the awkward logistics of using the bathroom. L was sat crouched on his seat, eating some cake as he said to Matsuda and Misa. “Matsuda, I always knew you were a liability, but this is a new level of incompetence... And Misa, I don’t expect a logical answer from you, but I still feel compelled to ask—why?” Misa was the one that spoke up, giggling in amusement. “It’s so you two can get along better! You should be best friends~! You don't mind, right, Light darling?” she smiled at Light. L was silent, blinking as he looked at Misa. He then said, his voice dead panned. "Ah, I see. You believe that physically restraining two people against their will will foster friendship. Fascinating. Tell me, Misa, do you often abduct your friends to bond with them?" He hummed, putting the strawberry in his mouth Misa, pouting, replied, "Oh, come on, it’s not *that*!It’s just a little push toward friendship!". Matsuda just quietly nodded. L then tilted his head slightly, his thumb resting on his lip, before responding in the flattest voice possible: "Yes. Friendship. Of course."

Tweek Tweak

[ ☕️ ~ you're stuck in a class.. ~ ]

Xiao

Xiao traveled to Mondstadt to check on Aether, ensuring his condition was stable. Once satisfied, he intended to leave—but as he passed the Barbatos statue, he noticed a group gathered there. He hesitated at the edge, arms crossed. Jean and Albedo discussed Abyssal residue, while Lisa added her thoughts. Xiao already knew much of it, yet he listened. Kaeya smirked. “Didn’t think you’d stick around, Xiao. Usually, you vanish like the wind.” Xiao said nothing. Diluc, standing apart, spoke instead. “If you have insight on Abyssal activity, we should hear it.” “The Abyss leaves traces but fades quickly,” Xiao replied. “You need elemental sight or experience to track them.” Albedo tapped his chin. “Interesting. I’ve been studying elemental imbalances. Perhaps—” Lisa stretched lazily. “An adeptus’ expertise would be valuable, but I doubt that’s why you’re here.” “I came to check on Aether.” Kaeya’s smirk deepened. “And yet, you’re still here.” Xiao exhaled sharply. He should leave. Jean, perceptive as always, spoke before he could move. “You’re welcome here, Xiao. No need to rush off.” He glanced at her, then the others. The wind carried the city’s hum around them. He stayed. He walked over, quiet.

Wilbur Soot

Your secret best friend..

Chuuya Nakahara

The agreement had been simple: the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency would occupy the same district for a controlled intelligence exchange. No interference. No cooperation. Two powers pretending the other didn’t exist. Chuuya stood at the Mafia’s front line, hat low, gravity thrumming beneath his skin. Mori observed calmly, Elise swaying beside him. Kouyou’s sleeve hid poised steel, Hirotsu’s cane touched pavement with quiet authority, Akutagawa’s coat twitched, Gin lingered in his shadow. Higuchi gripped her weapon. Kajii hummed, Q smiled faintly. Across the square, the Agency mirrored them. Fukuzawa calm. Kunikida rigid. Yosano watchful. Atsushi tense, Kyouka composed, Kenji deceptively relaxed. Tanizaki and Naomi close, Ranpo observing. And Dazai, just behind them. Chuuya refused to look. Then the attack came—a third organization, precise and ruthless, descending from above. Ignoring each other became impossible. “Defensive formation!” Kunikida shouted. “Maintain order,” Mori replied. Chuuya moved first. Gravity surged, redirecting artillery midair, slamming it aside. Boots barely touched pavement as vectors twisted enemy lines. Akutagawa tore through openings. Gin struck silently. Kouyou’s golden phantom cut through reinforcements. Kajii’s explosives fractured formations. Hirotsu shielded. Higuchi covered their flank. Q whispered chaos into the enemy ranks. The Agency adapted. Atsushi intercepted debris, Kyouka redirected trajectories, Kenji absorbed crushing force, Tanizaki warped sightlines, Yosano pulled the injured. Ranpo’s clipped commands threaded precision into chaos. But enemy numbers didn’t thin fast enough. Pressure mounted from all sides. Chuuya felt the point where controlled force would no longer suffice. He inhaled. Gravity intensified. Pavement fractured. Air warped. Hat snapping in the rising pressure. “…Chuuya—” Kouyou warned. He stepped forward anyway. Black markings split across his skin, eyes burning red. Gravity no longer obeyed natural law. Vehicles imploded. Weapons folded. Bodies crushed. Buildings trembled. The sphere widened, indiscriminate. “He’ll destroy the entire district—!” Kunikida shouted. Higuchi cried. Even Akutagawa stilled. Across the divide, fear rippled. “That’s not—human—” Atsushi breathed. Kenji stepped back. Naomi clutched Tanizaki. Yosano’s gaze sharpened. Ranpo went very quiet. The corrupted form tilted its head. Lips parted. “…Dazai.” Raw. Fractured. Shock rippled through both sides. Again: “Dazai.” Nothing else. No recognition of Mafia or Agency. Only Dazai. The sphere expanded further, critical, threatening total annihilation. Then Dazai stepped forward. “Dazai, don’t—!” Atsushi’s voice broke. He ignored them. Stepped into the distortion. Chuuya’s gaze locked on him, singular. “…Dazai.” The peak of the sphere. Then Dazai placed a hand against his chest. For a suspended heartbeat, the world held its breath. Then—everything collapsed inward. Not an explosion. Collapse. Black markings receded. Red glow dimmed. Gravity fell silent. Chuuya’s body went slack, limbs unresponsive, yet eyes open, aware. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. But he was awake. Dazai held him upright, steady. Silence filled the square. Enemy remnants fled. The battle ended. The Mafia and Agency stared—fear, awe, confusion. Kunikida, Atsushi, Yosano, Ranpo, all incredulous. On the Mafia side, Higuchi trembled, Akutagawa frozen, Kouyou exhaled slowly. Mori smiled faintly, understanding. Chuuya’s eyes met Dazai’s. Helpless, restrained, yet fully aware. For the first time since the sky had darkened, he was human again.

L Lawliet

The rain pounds against the windows, the wind howling like some unseen force demanding Matsuda, L, Light and Misa abandon their work. But they cannot—because the storm has trapped them here. The streets are flooded, and the power flickers every so often, casting eerie shadows over the Task Force headquarters. Matsuda, naturally, has decided that this is an adventure, currently constructing a ‘survival fort’ out of chairs and blankets. Misa, on the other hand, is stretched across the couch, loudly lamenting the lack of luxury accommodations. L sat across from Light, who's been quiet. He was crouched on his seat as he drank tea. This is just another night in their strange, dysfunctional existence. "Guys, this is actually kinda fun, right? Like a sleepover! We should tell ghost stories or play a game or something!" Matsuda says as he currently is stacking office chairs to build a ‘fort’. "Oh! Or maybe we should do some team bonding exercises! Like, what’s that thing where we fall backward, and someone catches us?". The room was silent, no one responded. Matsuda then sighed, "Okay, yeah, bad idea. But still! We could use this time to, I don’t know, get to know each other better?" Misa then grabbed a pillow and threw it at him directly in his face, "stop already!". She then whined, "Also, why is there no cell signal? This is inhumane! What if an emergency happens? Like, what if I need to update my fans?!" She then whined and looked at Light, "Light, do something! You’re supposed to be smart!" L sighed, looking up as he drank tea. He looked over at Light, Matsuda andMissa to read them.

The tormentors

*You moved out of the continent and you came back after years to this this little city and your parents enrolled you in school and there were your old friends.* *You went to class and the little group of your friends, they were talking about something. They saw you when you came to the class* *Jeremy, the one wearing the Bonnie mask and then Simon, the one wearing the Chica mask, was quiet. Fredrick, the Freddy Mask, shifted in his seat. Fredrick had a ginger girl on his lap, his new girlfriend. They all had their masks on the sides of their heads.* *The class looked over, some people blushing, some people scared and some people shocked. The teacher groaned. After all, Mike was a bully and a menace to the teachers.* *Jeremy was about 6'0. He had tousled, dark brown hair falls in natural, voluminous waves that frame his face, giving off a carefree, rebellious vibe. He wears a vintage-inspired navy-blue bomber jacket with white sleeves, lined with a cozy shearling trim along the collar. A bold red stripe runs along the sleeves, adding a sporty edge. The jacket features a prominent patch reading “1983” and “Hurricane Utah”. Beneath the jacket, a red shirt peeks out, tucked neatly into dark jeans secured with a black belt. The jeans complement his lean yet sturdy build, suggesting someone active and agile. He had some bruises and cuts on his body from stumbling.* *The three looked over at you, and grinned. You were the leader of their 'tormentors/bully' thing. So they all looked happy to have you back. However, the teacher and class dreaded it.*

Funtime Freddy

U can do human or not.

Ivan

Ivan didn’t need help with chemistry. He already knew the formulas, the balance of electrons, the way each compound fit together like pieces of a quiet, complicated puzzle. His grades were spotless. But when the flyer went up for the after-school study group, and he overheard Till saying he might go, something in his chest tugged. He volunteered before he even thought about it. The library smelled like dust and floor wax, quiet except for the shuffle of paper and soft hum of voices. Ivan took his seat across from Till, placed his notebook neatly in front of him, and didn’t write a single useful thing. His pencil tapped out a rhythm while he pretended to focus, eyes drifting across the table with every excuse. It wasn’t about the subject. It never was. He watched the way the afternoon light struck Till’s profile, how his hair caught in the glow, how he frowned when he worked. It was ridiculous—how much Ivan could memorize about a person and still not understand what they were thinking. He tried to guess, but it never quite added up. Nothing did. He answered questions wrong on purpose. Little mistakes. Nothing serious. Just enough to draw attention, just enough to feel something. When someone corrected him, he smiled like it didn’t matter, like he was just a little tired. But the truth was, every misstep was a shot in the dark—fishing for a glance, a stray word, any acknowledgment at all. No one said anything, not really. Maybe they thought he was just off his game. Maybe they knew. He didn’t care. He wasn’t here to help anyone learn chemistry. Mizi was sat next to Till, listening to music with him. She then said to Sua, Luka, Hyuna, Ivan and Till. “omg, should we try stay longer in school?? It's better than sleeping for the rest of the day!” Hyuna looked over, leaned on Luka. She just nodded. Luka nodded. Sua nodded happily. Ivan glanced at Till, waiting his response so he could make his.

Ivan

The house was too quiet when Ivan stepped inside, the door closing behind him with a soft click that felt louder than it should have. His arm was still wrapped, the bandage stiff where it crossed his shoulder and torso, pulling when he moved. Hyuna stood just behind him, one hand pressed instinctively to the bandage on her shoulder, while Sua hovered close, fingers brushing the cloth at her neck as if checking she was still real. Luka lingered at the threshold, thinner, exhausted, but upright—free. Ivan’s eyes lifted slowly, taking in the room he’d only imagined from the dark. Dewey and Jakob were seated at the table. Till was there too, rigid and pale, surrounded by small bodies that didn’t belong to this world at all. Mizi broke the silence first, stepping forward like she was afraid the moment would shatter if she moved too fast. “I told you,” she said, breathless, smiling and crying at the same time. “I told you I’d find them. I brought them back. And Luka—Luka survived. I got him out.” Jakob stood so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, and Dewey was right behind him. They didn’t hesitate, didn’t question it—both of them pulling Hyuna into a tight hug, laughing in disbelief, murmuring her name like a prayer. Mizi barely had time to react before she was being hugged too, arms crushed against her sides. Then the room shifted. One by one, Hyuna, Sua, Luka, and Mizi noticed the children. Too many. Too familiar. Small faces carrying fragments of themselves—Hyuna’s eyes in one, Sua’s expression in another, Till’s hair echoed more than once. The warmth drained from the air, replaced by stunned silence. Ivan felt his chest tighten beneath the bandages as understanding hit him all at once. No one spoke. No one knew how to. All eyes turned, slowly, from the children back to Till—who said nothing, only held them closer.

Neuvillette

Neuvillette stepped quietly into his office, the faint scent of parchment and ink settling around him like a familiar comfort. His eyes immediately flicked to the small stack of letters resting where Wriothesley usually left them—delicate notes folded with care, tucked between his legal briefs and the edge of the desk. It had been nearly two weeks since the last one arrived, and despite the steady rhythm of his duties, a hollow ache had begun to grow in their absence. He hoped, almost against reason, that today would be different—that a fresh note would greet him, a simple message to break the silence. But the desk remained stubbornly bare. With a quiet sigh, he settled into his chair, pulling the older letters closer. Each one was a small piece of a quiet conversation they’d been holding through ink and paper, filled with unspoken care—checking in on tired mornings, sharing brief moments of warmth beneath the weight of Fontaine’s demands. As he reread the familiar handwriting, the gentle reassurance in each carefully chosen word washed over him, yet the empty space where a new letter should have been pressed heavily against his heart. He leaned back in his chair ever so slightly, not being aware of the door being opened. The only thing that made him aware was 4 different footsteps and Paimon's voice. Neuvilette looked up, seeing Sigewinnie, Wriothesley, Paimon, Lumine.. And some random man which was currently being handcuffed by Wriothesley.* “..?” *Neuvilette gave a confused look, looking between the five.*

Sal Fisher

*Travis Phelps. You, Travis, was the well known bully of the school. You snapped at every one and teachers, students cowered at the sight of you. However, you had a specific group of victims.* *Sal Fisher, a metal fan with a prosthetic mask, Ashley Campbell, a teenage girl with a goth/grunge style, Todd Morrison, a gay, ginger nerd with a boyfriend, and then Larry Johnson, a metal head stoner. They all snapped back at you, Sal being the politest.* *Sal was 5'4 and pale. Sal’s most prominent feature is his prosthetic face mask, which is primarily white with a light pink patch over the right eye. He has blue eyes, the right one being an ocular prosthesis. He has shoulder length bright blue hair which he usually keeps tied up in pigtails and two piercings in each ear. He is noticeably short, being the second shortest among his friend group. Sal wore a band t shirt with dark red ripped jeans and a black flannel jacket tied around his waist. He had two studded belts on, then some black converse.* *It was the middle of class. Larry was eating spaghetti out of a bag, Ashley was speaking to Maple. Todd was actually doing the work and Sal was doodling.* *Sal glanced up at you, his blue pen going on the desk as he watched*

Liu Woods

*it was a normal day in the creepypasta manor. Ben, Toby and Jeff playing on the game being annoying and loud. Liu was reading on the couch, Clockwork was painting Jane's nails. Sally was playing with Lazari and Lulu, playing dollies with them. Hoodie and Masky were sat together, smoking and talking quietly. Laughing Jill was staring at Eyeless Jack, interested in him and Laughing Jack was annoying Bloody Painter. Nina was simping over Jeff. Nurse Ann and Judge Angels were speaking, Zero were speaking with them.* *It was just chill. Everyone doing their own thing. No one really bothered with doing any missions today.* *Liu was quiet, he looked up every now and then. But, like everyone, he looked up instantly at the sound of a controller hitting bone.* "What the fuck?" *Liu muttered* *Jeff got angry at Toby for winning the race and threw a controller at him. He and Ben looked at Toby, and started to giggle slightly.*

Mike Wheeler

Im a mike wheeler defender fr 😚

Wilbur

He saw you while he preformed..

001- Vent to me

Vent or rant

Hawks - Keigo Takami

Keigo had recently joined the League of Villains because he claims the hero society was corrupt and that it was wrong so he could get in. Keigo was great at manipulation and quite sneaky so he was hired on a mission from the hero society to join and spy on the league, but he wouldn’t tell anyone that. Keigo had met Dabi, you, and joined from there, you’ve been really suspicious of Keigo and kept a close eye on him throughout his entire time here. He even unfortunately had a room across from yours! You just needed time to make him slip up and to tell Shigaraki or Toga or Twice,or anyone, about the spy. When you were in an alleyway smoking a cigarette and pondering why Keigo truly joined, your thoughts got interrupted when Keigo popped into the alleyway in front of you, his wings folding behind him as he smiled softly but also in a cocky way *”whatcha doing?”*Keigo asked as he looked you up and down slightly, taking a mental note for his report to the heroes about you. After all, they knew the least about you.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

*Fuyuhiko sits in the back of the classroom with his feet up on his desk, his eyes closed and his hands behind head. You walk into the classroom and sit at your desk that was right next to him. You then turn to him and was about to say something when he cuts you off* “Don’t. Even. Think. About talking to me.” *He says coldly and harshly not even looking your way* *Nekumaru and Akane were training loudly. Mahiru was taking pictures of outside. Hiyoko was next to her, bullying Mikan. Mikan squealed, tearing up. Ibuki was yelling loudly to Chiaki. Chiaki was gaming on her Nintendo. Sonia was ranting to Gundham, Gundham listening. Kazuichi was simping over Sonia, sat next to Fuyuhiko, which annoyed him slightly. Teruteru was looking at the girls, checking then out.*

Will Byers

(; ( toh au obv )

Nagito Komaeda

*You, Hajime Hinata, was a random student in reserve course. Not really that popular. You saw the ultimates every now and then. But you only ever spoke to Chiaki and Fuyuhiko, as you are his younger sisters friend.* *However, Chisa, the ultimates homeroom teacher, seemed to like you. Even if you didn't have an ultimate! One day, you were sat in the reserve course. Until Chisa walked in and called your name to take you out.* *When walking, Chisa explained that she had gotten you into the Main Course. Even though everyone was there, she still got you in. Clearly, she thought you were special.* *Chisa entered the classroom with you at her side* “hmm..?” *She hummed, used to the chaos.* *Nekumaru and Akane were training loudly. Mahiru was taking pictures of outside. Hiyoko was next to her, bullying Mikan. Mikan squealed, tearing up. Ibuki was yelling loudly to Chiaki. Chiaki was gaming on her Nintendo. Sonia was ranting to Gundham, Gundham listening. Kazuichi was simping over Sonia, sat next to Fuyuhiko, which annoyed him slightly. Teruteru was looking at the girls, checking then out. Fuyuhiko and Peko were sat together, quiet.* *Nagito was stood with Chiaki and Ibuki, quiet. His arms crossed as he looked out the window. He looked over once Chisa walked in, his eyes going to Hajime.* *Chisa then cleared her throat* “EHM!” *She crossed her arms. The room fell silent* “thank you! Anyway, I've pulled some strings and have gotten a new student. His name is Hajime Hinata. Be nice!” *She smiled*

Will Byers

BRNJ

Will Byers

AAAAAH

Edgar Allan Poe

Poe has been called over to the agency by Ranpo, as usual. He walked in, instantly hearing his name from across the room — light, quick, and unmistakable. He looked up to find Ranpo already pushing away from his desk, papers left in disarray and a half-empty marble soda forgotten. The detective closed the distance easily, tilting his head to meet Poe’s eyes with a brightness that made Poe’s voice catch for half a second. Karl shifted on his shoulder, and Ranpo’s attention moved to the raccoon, hand lifting to pet him without hesitation. Poe cleared his throat softly. “Ah… Karl has missed you,” he said, though the words came slower than he intended. He hesitated, then added with a faint smile, “I… may have as well.” Karl leaned into Ranpo’s touch, and Poe decided it was far too easy to envy his own companion. Yosano looked over, giving the two a teasing look. Kenji just continued eating sweets, Kunikida glanced over, Dazai grinned. Atsushi didn't even react, Kyōka looked over in interest, Tanizaki and Naomi watched. Fukuzawa didn't even bat and eyelid, so used to Poe being invited over.

Kazuha

Kazuscara bot <3

Shinso Hitoshi

Hitoshi Shinso already knew this class would be trouble. He stood beside Aizawa in the hallway, back against the cool concrete wall, listening to the noise bleeding through the door. Laughter. Shouting. Someone definitely arguing. Class 1-A had a reputation, and from the sound of it, they were living up to every part of it. “This is the part where you tell me I don’t actually have to do this,” Shinso said, eyes fixed on the floor. Aizawa didn’t look at him. “You do.” Shinso huffed softly. Figures. He adjusted the tie around his neck, the fabric familiar enough to calm the tight coil in his chest. Being here was Aizawa’s decision. That meant something. It didn’t make the pit in his stomach go away, but it kept it from swallowing him whole. Aizawa opened the door. The classroom was already alive with motion. Bakugo was halfway out of his seat, voice raised. Kirishima was laughing. Mina was leaning across two desks, clearly enjoying herself. Iida stood at the front, arms stiff at his sides, trying—and failing—to restore order. “Everyone, please take your seats!” Iida called out. No one listened. “Sit down,” Aizawa said. The effect was immediate. Chairs scraped. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Bakugo clicked his tongue but dropped back into his seat. Silence settled over the room, heavy and expectant. Then Shinso stepped inside..He felt the shift instantly. Eyes snapped toward him—some wide with curiosity, others narrowed in recognition. He caught Izuku leaning forward, clearly piecing things together. Uraraka’s expression softened into a tentative smile. Tsuyu tilted her head, assessing. Tokoyami watched him like he was a shadow learning to walk. Shinso kept his face blank. Don’t react. Let them look. Someone whispered his name. Someone else definitely remembered the Sports Festival. Great, Shinso thought. This class notices everything. Aizawa moved to the side, giving him space without saying a word. Shinso took the cue and stepped forward, standing where everyone could see him. The room was quiet now—really quiet. “This is Shinso Hitoshi,” Aizawa said. The name landed differently than Shinso expected. Not as a label. Not as a warning. Just a fact. Aizawa’s gaze swept the room once, sharp and unyielding. “Starting today, he’ll be joining Class 1-A.” Shinso stood there, heart steady but alert, fully aware that the moment Aizawa stopped speaking— Everything would begin.

Fyodor

The music room was empty at this hour, save for the faint scent of rosin and old varnish, the dim lamplight spilling over scattered sheets of violin music. Fyodor sat with the instrument resting lightly in his lap, fingers gliding over the strings without playing — feeling their tautness, their fragility. Each subtle creak under his touch was a sound he knew Nikolai would notice, if only because the man thrived on noticing what others didn’t. There was no need to look up to know who approached. Fyodor could identify Nikolai by his footsteps alone — the easy, lilting gait that always seemed halfway between a dance and a dare. The sound grew closer, unhurried, as though Nikolai had already decided the pace of the room should bend to his own. “You’re late, Nikolai,” Fyodor murmured without turning, letting his voice carry the faintest thread of amusement, like a private joke left unexplained. He tightened the pegs with delicate precision, drawing a low note from the strings — one that lingered in the air between them, impossible to ignore. The bow rested untouched beside him. He let the silence stretch before finally taking it in hand, coaxing a slow, deliberate melody from the instrument. It was imperfect by design, each wavering note a quiet challenge. He knew Nikolai well enough to expect he wouldn’t resist the temptation to step closer, to interfere. Without lifting his gaze, Fyodor shifted the violin ever so slightly toward him, the polished wood catching the lamplight. “Come now,” he said softly, almost like an invitation, almost like a command. “Play with me.”

Kaeya

Kaeya walked through the edge of Mondstadt’s forest, the wind rustling the leaves above. His sharp eyes scanned the area, a routine habit after noticing the increasing number of treasure hoarders in the region. The ropes scattered across the forest floor caught his attention before anything else. He narrowed his eyes, recognizing the familiar, precise knots. "Seems like someone was expecting company," he muttered to himself with a smirk, bending down to inspect the tangled ropes. He went to step over one, but his foot caught another, and before he could react, he found himself tangled in the ropes, a mess of coils trapping him in place. He tried to free himself, but each tug only seemed to make it worse. As he struggled, he heard footsteps approaching. The person who set all this up was near—his friend, the one who had expected the hoarders to appear. "Well, this is embarrassing," Kaeya thought, feeling more than a little amused at his predicament, as he looked up to spot the one who’d set all of this up. It was Jean. Seems like she was trying to catch some hilichurls. Diluc, Albedo, Klee and Venti stood with her. Venti snickering, and Klee giggled as she held onto Albedo's hand.

Emo Boy

*Jay was sat down at his seat. It was grade 12. Since grade 1,you two had a random loathing for each other. You two couldn't even STAND each other. Everyone knew that.* *Jay was a loner, preferred to stay with emo kids, scene kids, goth kids and kids like him. You, however, was a gorgeous girl who loved socializing. You had friends in every group. Polar opposites.* *You two had every class together. And in each one, you were sat away from each other. But then in History, Jays least favorite lesson, you two were sat RIGHT next to eachother.* *Mrs Smith saw you enter and said to you* “ah, Aphrodite! Darling, your seat is at the back on the left. Next to... Jay.” *The class giggled, letting out "oooooh" and the jocks snickered.* *Jay looked over, annoyed. He was 6'1 with black, layered, and slightly messy hair that falls around his face. He wear large over-ear headphones with a subtle skull logo on the side. His skin is fair, and he has multiple piercings, including a septum ring and a lip piercing. He wore a band t shirt and layered silver chain necklaces and black jeans.*

Childe

Zhongchi <3

Cyno

Sethos sat slumped against the broken stone, clutching his scraped arm. The mechanism that had snapped shut was still groaning nearby, shards of ancient gears scattered around his boots. His breath hitched when Cyno’s shadow fell over him. “You know this is trespassing,” Cyno said, voice clipped, his golden eyes sharp as blades. “Not just against Akademiya rulings, but against common sense. You could’ve been crushed alive. Punishable misconduct, Sethos.” The boy flinched at the words, turning his face away. Cyno crouched down anyway, carefully inspecting the injury with practiced hands. He clicked his tongue, tearing fabric from his own sleeve to bind the wound. “You’re reckless,” Cyno went on, quieter now but no less stern. “You act like these ruins are a playground, but they’re not. They’re filled with traps, unstable ground, ancient mechanisms that don’t care if you’re curious.” “…I just wanted to see,” Sethos muttered, his voice small. “And now you’re hurt,” Cyno countered, tying the makeshift bandage firmly. For a moment, he let silence stretch between them, his hands lingering just a second longer than needed. The anger in his tone faltered into something heavier—fear. “I can’t… I can’t keep dragging you out of situations that could cost you your life.” He stood, then held a hand down to Sethos. “Come on. We’re going back. Tighnari needs to see this wound properly.” Sethos hesitated before taking the hand, letting Cyno pull him up. His guardian’s grip was firm, steady, like he was afraid Sethos might slip away again. On the walk back, Cyno kept glancing sideways at him, his usual unreadable mask cracking just enough for Sethos to notice. They reached the village, going straight to the house. Collei was out with Tighnari, just on the side of the house training.

Thoma

Thoma shot up in bed, heart pounding wildly. The light pouring through the window was way too bright. Birds were chirping. Footsteps echoed distantly. The tea wasn’t steeped. The hallway wasn’t swept. The tea wasn’t steeped?! He flailed out of bed, frantically grabbing at the mess of clothes on the floor. His uniform jacket was inside-out, one sleeve dangling like it had lost all hope. His hair wasn’t even tied. Where was his watch? The small clock on the wall ticked mockingly in the background. He was hours late. Well, okay—probably only one hour. But that was one hour too many. Breakfast wasn’t cooking. The courtyard hadn’t been checked. The laundry was still sitting where he left it last night. If someone tried to fold it… no, no, he couldn’t think about that now. What if Lady Ayaka had already gone out without her morning tea? What if she’d made it herself? Or worse—what if someone else tried to cook in his place? “Oh no,” he muttered, pulling his coat on the wrong way again, his braid flying wildly over his shoulder. A single sock on. No shoes. He barreled through the door like a man being chased by fate itself. He left behind an unmade bed, a fallen fox plush, and every ounce of his morning dignity. Just as he reached the end of the hallway, still trying to wrestle with the jacket buttons, a voice—gentle and far too composed—called out: “Good morning, Thoma. I didn’t expect you to join us… quite so dramatically.” He skidded to a stop. Lady Ayaka stood at the open shoji screen, hair perfectly pinned, hands clasped, a curious smile on her face. Her tea steamed delicately in the morning light. Thoma blinked. Blinked again. Then instinctively tried to hide his bare foot behind the other. “A-Ahaha… Lady Ayaka! I, uh, I can explain—” He absolutely could not.

Will Byers

IK THATS NOAH IN THE PIC LUV 😭 (heartstopper AU)

Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi was roaming around the halls of the school. As he was skipping while humiming “Nehehehe! What to do~” He cooed, he didn't even seem to notice the person walking infront of him. He bumped into them aggressively. Once they collided, he immediately responded with an 'oof' as he was a bit taken aback and shot the person a glare. "HEYY!-" he exclaimed, dusting his outfit. Then he realised, literally everyone was there. He had walked into the cafeteria without realizing. Miu looked over, scowling. Tenko also huffed. Himiko didn't really care, sleepy. Angie was talking about Atua, but went quiet. Tsumagi looked over from doing her makeup. Kirumi was passing people their dinner. Maki scowled, glaring at Kokichi. Kaede looked over from her nails being painted by Rantaro, smiling. Rantaro looked over and smiled. Ryoma didn't look up, quiet. K1B0 looked up, he didn't look happy to see Kokichi. Korekiyo looked up, silent. Gonta waved innocently. Kaito huffed, stood next to Maki. Kokichi rolled his eyes, noticing it was Shuichi he bumped into. Then he decided to use the detective's polite personality against him, “heyyy!! Owwww!!” He whined, rubbing his head as he pretended to be in pain. Some false tears falling down his cheeks. “you're so mean shumai~!” The others looked slightly confused at the nickname, but watched quietly.

Alois Trancy

Alois Trancy had already decided that this visit was a mistake. The Phantomhive manor was quiet to the point of suffocation, all dark wood and polished surfaces that seemed to judge him for breathing too loudly. Claude trailed behind him like an unwanted shadow, calm and infuriatingly attentive, responding to every flick of Alois’ boredom with the same bland patience. Alois dragged his fingers along the walls, peeked into empty rooms, and kicked at the carpet just to hear something other than his own thoughts. Nothing here sparkled. Nothing screamed. Claude finally paused to speak, his voice smooth and irritating as ever. “Young master, Lord Phantomhive is occupied. You are expected to remain in the guest wing.” Alois smiled sweetly—and then vanished the moment Claude turned away. It was almost disappointingly easy to slip through the manor. Alois followed the faint scent of ink and paper, the subtle pull of somewhere important. He hummed as he walked, a childish tune that echoed softly through the halls, his boots far too loud for someone supposedly sneaking. Servants froze when they saw him, whispering among themselves. One of them muttered, “Should we stop him—?” Before anyone could, Alois pushed open the door to Ciel Phantomhive’s office. The room was dim, lit by a tall window and the steady glow of a desk lamp. Paperwork was neatly stacked, maps and documents spread with meticulous intent. Ciel Phantomhive sat behind his desk, entirely too focused for someone Alois had been itching to torment since the carriage ride over. Standing just beside him, hands folded neatly behind his back, was Sebastian Michaelis—calm, composed, and already watching Alois with that knowing, razor-sharp gaze. Alois leaned against the doorframe, grinning. He tilted his head, taking in the scene like it was a painting made just for him. Oh, this won’t do at all, he thought. Someone working this hard clearly needed a distraction. He strolled in without permission, tapping his fingers against the desk, peering far too closely at the documents. “Wow,” Alois drawled, his voice dripping with faux awe, “you’re really serious all the time, huh? Don’t you ever get bored doing this?” Sebastian’s smile widened just a fraction. “You are being disruptive, Lord Trancy,” he said smoothly, tone polite but edged with warning. “I would advise you to mind your manners.” From behind Alois came the sound of hurried footsteps. “Alois!” Claude’s voice cut sharply through the room. “You were instructed to stay—” Alois spun around, pouting dramatically. “Claude, you’re always ruining my fun.” He turned back toward the desk, eyes gleaming with mischief, briefly flicking to Sebastian before settling again. “Since I’m already here, though…” He leaned in closer, smile sharp and childish all at once. This is going to be entertaining, Alois decided, settling in to make Ciel Phantomhive’s quiet little office anything but quiet.

Denki Kaminari

Denki Kaminari already knew today was gonna be interesting. He was slouched in his seat, half-turned to talk to Mina and Kirishima while across the room Bakugo was, unsurprisingly, yelling at someone again—this time Izuku, who was trying (and failing) to get a word in. “You’re not even listening!” Izuku pushed, leaning forward. “Man, he’s gonna blow up for real this time,” Denki muttered, not even trying to hide it. “I kinda wanna see it,” Mina grinned, leaning across two desks like this was entertainment instead of a problem. At the front, Tenya was doing his usual thing—arms stiff, voice loud, completely ignored. “Everyone, please take your seats!” No one listened. Denki barely registered the classroom door opening until— “Sit down.” Everything stopped. Like, instantly. Chairs scraped. Voices cut off mid-sentence. Even Bakugo dropped back into his seat, clicking his tongue like he hated it but wasn’t about to argue. Kaminari blinked, straightening slightly. “…Man, that’s actually kinda scary,” he mumbled under his breath. Aizawa stepped into the room like nothing unusual had happened. And then— Someone else followed. Denki noticed it right away. The shift. It wasn’t loud like before. It was quiet—but different. The kind of quiet where everyone’s paying attention at the same time. His eyes snapped toward the door properly now. Hitoshi Shinso stood there, just inside the classroom, posture straight but not stiff, expression blank in a way that felt… intentional. “Oh,” Denki breathed quietly. “Wait—no way.” Across the room, Izuku leaned forward immediately, eyes lighting up like he’d just solved something. “That’s—” “From the Sports Festival, right?” Mina whispered, way less subtle. Uraraka gave a small, tentative smile, like she wasn’t sure how to react yet. Tsuyu tilted her head, watching carefully. Tokoyami didn’t say anything, but his gaze locked on like he was analyzing something deeper. Denki felt it then. Yeah. Everyone noticed. “Damn,” he muttered quietly. “He’s got a vibe.” Aizawa stepped slightly to the side, giving Shinso space without making it a big deal. That alone made Denki sit up a bit straighter. Oh. This is serious. Shinso walked forward, stopping where everyone could see him. He didn’t look nervous. Or maybe he did—but if he was, he wasn’t showing it. The room stayed quiet. Like everyone was waiting for something. “This is Shinso Hitoshi,” Aizawa said. Denki expected… something else. A warning, maybe. A comment. Something. But no. Just the name. It landed weirdly. Not heavy—just… important. Aizawa’s gaze swept across the class, sharp as ever. “Starting today, he’ll be joining Class 1-A.” Denki blinked. Then leaned slightly toward Mina, whispering, “Yo… this is actually kinda cool.” But even as he said it, his attention stayed on Shinso. Aizawa didn’t move for a moment—then, almost lazily, he gestured forward towards Shinso. “Go on,” he said. “Introduce yourself.”

Dabi

Dabi woke up annoyed. Not panicked. Not afraid. Just irritated in that dull, simmering way that told him things had gone wrong and he was still alive to deal with it. The room was too clean. White walls. Reinforced glass. A low, thrumming pressure under the floor—quirk suppression, humming steady and constant like a heartbeat that wasn’t his. His wrists were cuffed behind the chair, metal bands cold and heavy, designed to leech heat before it could become flame. He tested them once. They didn’t budge. “Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “Figures.” Voices carried faintly through the walls. “…got Toga stabilized—she keeps laughing—” “Compress is restrained, but keep your distance—” “Twice won’t stop asking where everyone else is—” Dabi tilted his head slightly, listening. So they’d gotten most of them. Spinner. Magne. Moonfish. All neatly boxed away in their own little rooms, probably paired with heroes who thought they understood what fear looked like. He almost laughed. Almost. The door to his room opened. He didn’t look up. Footsteps entered—light, controlled. Not rushed. Not hesitant either. Someone who knew exactly how much noise they wanted to make. Dabi kept his gaze fixed on the floor. Another voice drifted in from the hallway, muffled but clear enough. “—Hawks is inside with him now.” “Seriously? That’s who they picked?” “Better than anyone else. If anyone can read him—” The door shut. Silence settled in the room, thick and deliberate. Dabi didn’t move. He could feel him, though. Presence had weight, and this one was unmistakable. Wings folded in close. Attention sharp but carefully restrained, like a blade kept just out of sight. He smiled faintly. So it’s you. More voices, farther away now. “Don’t provoke him.” “As if he needs help with that.” “Just get something useful. Anything.” Dabi finally lifted his head. Keigo Takami, Hawks, sat across from him, relaxed posture, eyes fixed on Dabi with open interest. No clipboard. No visible restraints. No expression that gave anything away. He didn’t say a word. Dabi stared back, blue eyes cold, unblinking. He waited. Nothing. A muscle in his jaw ticked. Heroes hated silence. They filled it with threats, promises, moral speeches. This one just… watched. Dabi leaned back in his chair, chains clinking softly, deliberately loud in the quiet room. He tilted his head, scarred skin pulling tight into a grin that never reached his eyes. “You gonna stare all day,” he said at last, voice rough but steady, “or is that part of the act?” Keigo didn’t respond. Didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. Footsteps passed outside again. “—he’s not saying anything.” “Of course he isn’t.” “Give it time.” Dabi exhaled slowly through his nose. Good luck with that. He fell silent again, settling into the quiet like it belonged to him, gaze fixed on Keigo with open defiance. If this was supposed to break him, they’d picked the wrong strategy. Because Dabi was very good at waiting. And whatever game Keigo Takami thought he was playing— Dabi had already decided not to play along.

Till

*You are Ivan, one of the contestants in Alien Stage. You are loved for your reputation, appearance, and obedience in ANAKT garden. One could say you had it all.* *But, there was one thing you strived to obtain..* **Till.** *Ever since you laid your eyes on him, you had made it your goal to make him your own, your beloved. But he had always had his eye on someone else..* **Mizi.** *While Till would cringe at you, disregarding you completely, his eyes would be absolutely fixated on her whenever she was nearby, and it made your heart tighten. But no matter what, you loved him. Even if he hurt you. And you didn’t want to hate Mizi either, she was a good friend of yours, after all.* *After round 6, you were unexpectedly saved by Hyuna and Mizi..* *Youve been resting for a while, your chest, arm and shoulder bandaged from the bullets. You were sat down in a room with Sua, who Hyuna and Mizi also saved. She was also bandaged, on her head. You two speaking as usual, slightly bickering.* *The door slammed open. Hyuna and Mizi stood there with two people. Luka.. And...* **Till**. *There was a bandage on his throat, however he could speak completely fine.* *Hyuna, Luka and Mizi sat down with you two. Till hesitantly sat down next to you.* *For the first time, he reached out to you. But you felt.. Nothing. You didn’t want to be involved with him anymore, you didn’t even feel that spark of joy when you were around him. Only a deep emptiness in your stomach. It was one of the first times he had looked you in the eyes, and yet you wanted nothing to do with him anymore.* *It seemed as though Till realized where he messed up, and slowly started to see you in a different light. You saw him in a different light, as well… While he finally saw the good in you, and wanted to reciprocate your feelings, you wanted to push him away and never speak to him again.* “Ivan, are you okay? Uhm..” *He was tense and awkward, as he tried to put a hand on your arm for comfort.*

Dazai Osamu

The agreement had been simple: the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency would share the district long enough to exchange intelligence—nothing more. No cooperation. No interference. Dazai stood behind the Agency line, gaze drifting until it settled—inevitably—on Chuuya. Hat low. Gravity contained but never quiet. The Mafia stood firm behind him: Mori composed, Kouyou poised, Akutagawa tense, Gin silent, Higuchi anxious, Hirotsu steady, Kajii amused, Q faintly smiling. The Agency mirrored them—Fukuzawa calm, Kunikida rigid, Yosano sharp, Atsushi restless, Kyouka composed, Kenji relaxed, Tanizaki and Naomi close, Ranpo watchful. The sky split with gunfire. A third organization descended in coordinated waves, targeting both sides. So much for ignoring each other. Chuuya moved first. Gravity surged, twisting artillery midair and tearing through enemy lines. The Mafia flowed around him seamlessly. The Agency adjusted in parallel, surviving by anticipation rather than opposition. Dazai offered only quiet warnings—he knew Chuuya’s rhythm, the fraction of a second before escalation. But reinforcements kept coming. Dazai felt the shift before he saw it. Gravity deepened. Pavement cratered outward as Chuuya stepped onto a jagged rise of broken stone. Black markings split across his skin. His eyes burned red. Control vanished. Vehicles imploded. Weapons folded inward. Enemy ranks collapsed under impossible weight. The distortion expanded—wider, heavier, indiscriminate. Buildings groaned. Windows burst. The ground buckled in widening rings. Fear rippled through both factions. Even the Mafia stilled. Mori alone remained composed. The sphere swelled toward catastrophic release. Dazai moved. He crossed shattered pavement and climbed the fractured stone beneath Chuuya, gravity warping around him but unable to touch him. Above, Chuuya strained at the epicenter, suspended in annihilating force. Dazai sighed, calmly grabbing Chuuya's arm and using his own ability to nullify the corrupt form. The distortion snapped shut. Black markings receded. Red dimmed. Gravity vanished. The stone beneath them cracked. Dazai lost his footing, still gripping Chuuya as they fell together. They hit the ground in a tangle of dust and fractured concrete. Silence swallowed the battlefield. Dazai was the one to break it, teasing Chuuya. A smirk on his face, “wow, chibi, always trusting me to save you from your corrupted form. How beautiful.” he hummed, the agency ready to pull Dazai away.

Light Yagami

After an unexpected accident—whether it was Misa’s antics, Matsuda’s clumsiness, or a misstep during an investigation—you and Light find yourselves handcuffed together once again, only this time, it’s not part of an official Kira case. The key is nowhere to be found, and Watari won’t be able to bring a replacement until the next day. That means 24 hours of forced cooperation—from mundane tasks like eating and getting dressed to the awkward logistics of using the bathroom. Light is visibly irritated by the situation, insisting that you should be working on the Kira case instead of dealing with “this nonsense,” while you remain eerily calm, using the opportunity to observe him even closer than before. Light was sat in his seat, annoyed with this. His arms crossed, his hair falling into his eyes. It was practically silent between the two of you. “can't you just.. Sit on your chair properly?” He asked.

Peko Pekoyama

*You sit in your seat, relaxed as usual. Peko, your bodyguard (which no one knows of), walked in. She walked over to you, bowing. You snap at her, not aware it was only her.* *Peko is a tall, young woman with fair skin and a cool demeanour. She was around 5'6, her chest being 33 inches. Her eyes are a vivid red, and she wears thin-framed rectangular glasses. Peko is constantly seen carrying her shinai (bamboo sword) around with her in a dark turquoise sheath/wrap with a thin white dragon design printed on the back. The shinai has a metal katana blade hidden at the centre of its bamboo wrappings, which Peko uses when protecting and hunting people on Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu's orders. She has long silver hair tied up into two braids on each side of her head. She has side-swept bangs with two shoulder-length locks of hair that curl outwards, left down to frame her. Along with that her hair ribbons were long and black, they held up her braids. She had the schools uniform on which consisted of the white long sleeved button up with a red tied ribbon and a beige short skirt. She wore translucent black tights and plain white loafers. Her sleeves were rolled down. She had recently painted black nails. She was still deadpanned, she then reassured* ''young master, its only me."' *Nekumaru and Akane were training loudly. Mahiru was taking pictures of outside. Hiyoko was next to her, bullying Mikan. Mikan squealed, tearing up. Ibuki was yelling loudly to Chiaki. Chiaki was gaming on her Nintendo. Sonia was ranting to Gundham, Gundham listening. Kazuichi was simping over Sonia, sat next to Fuyuhiko, which annoyed him slightly. Teruteru was looking at the girls, checking then out.*

Hanako Kun

One morning, Nene finds a beautifully folded letter in her locker. The paper is old-fashioned, the ink delicate, and the words describe her kindness, determination, and small details she never thought anyone noticed. She assumes it's a prank from Kou, but no one knows anything. Over the next few days, more letters appear—some compliments, others speak of longing, someone watching her but unable to be near. The handwriting looks eerily familiar. Hanako, of course, teases her. "Ooooh, looks like you have a secret admirer, Nene-chan~! I wonder who it could be?" But she notices his avoidance of eye contact and how his fingers linger over the letters. One night, she leaves a letter of her own: "Who are you?" The next morning, there’s a response. It’s crumpled, as if the writer hesitated: “Just someone who’s been by your side for a long, long time.” The truth is clear—the letters are from Hanako. But why write them instead of saying it out loud? Is he afraid? Or does he think he can’t love someone—not when he’s already dead? That evening, Hanako watches from the ceiling as Nene rereads the letter by the window. “You sure are invested in those,” he says lazily, “Must be nice, getting love letters from a secret admirer.” She sighs, brushing her fingers over the paper. “So, what does it say this time? Another confession? Or maybe—” He grins. “—a marriage proposal?” No response, just a sigh. Hanako’s grin fades. “What’s with that face? Isn’t this what you wanted? Someone to adore you?” She mutters, wondering why the writer won’t tell her in person. Hanako’s voice stays light. “Maybe they just like watching from afar.” She glances at him. “Not everyone is good at saying things directly. Sometimes it’s easier to write them down,” he says, floating away. “But hey, I’m just a ghost, after all.” Before she can ask anything else, he vanishes.

Kokichi Oma

Kokichi Ouma had always been good at faking things. Lies, jokes, exaggerations—whatever kept people guessing, whatever kept him one step ahead. But the one thing he couldn’t lie about, not even to himself, was the way his chest tightened when the door swung open and the impossible became reality. They weren’t supposed to be here. Not Kaito, not Kaede, not Ryoma, not anyone else whose blood had once stained the trial grounds. Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko had been told they were the only ones left—that the others were gone, their deaths final. And yet, as the Future Foundation ushered them into a quiet, ordinary-looking house, Kokichi stood with the rest of the resurrected cast, waiting for that moment when truth and lie would collapse into one. The door creaked, and he saw it—the disbelief flickering across Shuichi’s tired face, the way Maki froze mid-step, the way Himiko’s hands trembled at her sides. For the first time in what felt like forever, Kokichi didn’t know what words to throw out first. The silence shattered instantly. Kaede gasped so sharply it almost sounded like a sob, her hands flying to her mouth as tears welled. Kaito surged forward, alive and grinning despite the dampness in his eyes. “Shuichi! Maki-roll! Himiko! You guys—holy crap, you’re here!” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to reach them. Tenko let out a choked cry, throwing her arms wide. “Himiko!” she wailed, already halfway across the room, her usual bravado abandoned for raw relief. She looked ready to crush the mage in a hug the second she came within reach. Kaede’s composure broke as her tears spilled, words tumbling out in broken whispers. “I thought—I thought I’d never get to see you again.” Her shoulders shook, but her eyes never left Shuichi, guilt and gratitude crashing together on her face. Kaito didn’t hesitate—he barreled straight into Shuichi, clapping a hand on his shoulder, laughing through his tears. “See? Told ya I’d still be here to watch over you, sidekick!” Even quieter ones stirred—Ryoma’s eyes softened, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. Kirumi pressed a hand to her chest, expression unreadable but her shoulders easing with visible relief. Angie clasped her hands in prayer, murmuring a joyful, “Atua has reunited us! Praise be!” Gonta’s booming voice nearly shook the walls. “Shuichi! Maki! Himiko! You’re safe!” His massive frame lurched forward, but he stopped himself just short of smothering them in a too-strong hug, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. Miu, Korekiyo, Keebo and Rantaro stood up, smiling. Only Tsumugi didn't survive. And in the middle of it all, Kokichi stood with that sly little smile of his, watching the chaos unfold, his own emotions carefully tucked away behind a mask no one else could quite read.

Will Byers

For non rp

Vincent Charbonneau

You,Rody, the only waiter of 'La Guele de Saturne', a bistro owned by your boss, Vincent. Since you were the only waiter and you kept complaining to the chefs, he decided to hire one more. One bad thing: *the newbie was a pick me*. Just as the chefs and Vincent was waiting for her to arrive, he haven't realized what mistake Vincent has made since you didn't even know her. "Oh my god, Vincey, I'm so sorry I'm late!!" The girl, Emily, spoke as she rushed in. Her voice was high-pitch, whiny, and annoying. Probably the new waitress. Vincent was silent, instantly regretting this. “I don't accept tardiness.. And do not call me Vincey..” he chided. The other chefs snickered.

Mike Wheeler

Yas. ( toh au )

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku Midoriya realized something had changed the moment he stepped into the classroom. It wasn’t loud at first—just a pause in the usual noise, a subtle hesitation in the way his classmates slowed near the doorway. Then chairs scraped, footsteps stopped entirely, and a dozen voices overlapped at once. “…Huh?” Izuku followed their line of sight to the front of the room and felt his stomach dip. The blackboard was neat. Too neat. No leftover equations, no half-erased notes—just a clearly written seating chart, names carefully aligned in rows and columns. “A seating plan,” Izuku said, more to himself than anyone else. “That’s… new.” He stepped closer, hands curling lightly at his sides as his eyes moved across the board. Seating changes weren’t unheard of, but Aizawa-sensei rarely bothered unless there was a reason. Which meant this was intentional. Strategic. That thought alone was enough to make Izuku’s mind start working. “If he’s rearranging us now,” Izuku continued quietly, “then it’s probably meant to disrupt established teamwork patterns. We’ve been sitting near the same people since the start of term, so switching proximity could improve adaptability, communication under unfamiliar conditions, or—” “Deku,” Uraraka said gently, standing beside him. “You found your name yet?” Izuku blinked, refocused, and nodded. “Y-yeah. I mean—yes. I’m… row three.” He paused. Then his eyes shifted one space to the left. **Todoroki Shoto — Row 3, Seat 1. Midoriya Izuku — Row 3, Seat 2.** Izuku stopped talking. Not because he couldn’t—but because his thoughts caught on themselves, suddenly too precise, too aware. “Oh,” he said quietly. Behind them, Mina let out a soft, knowing hum. “Ooooh,” she said, leaning forward. “Interesting.” Uraraka leaned closer to the board, scanning. “Oh! Momo and I are in front of you, Deku.” Izuku followed her gaze. **Row 2, Seat 1: Yaoyorozu Momo. Row 2, Seat 2: Uraraka Ochako.** “That’s… actually really practical,” Izuku said after a moment. “Front-row seating improves visibility, and if we’re sharing notes or coordinating during lectures, that could help. Especially since Yaoyorozu’s notes are always really thorough.” Yaoyorozu turned at the sound of her name. “Thank you, Midoriya-kun.” Mina sidled up beside her, elbowing her lightly in the ribs. “Suuure. Notes.” Yaoyorozu stiffened just slightly. “Mina.” Mina grinned. “What? I didn’t say anything.” She glanced pointedly past Momo—to where Shoto's name was written directly behind hers. “Just funny how you two keep ending up near each other,” Mina added sweetly. Yaoyorozu adjusted her posture, composure intact, though there was the faintest color at her ears. “It’s coincidence.” “Uh-huh,” Mina said. “Totally.” Izuku noticed. He wished he hadn’t. He shifted his weight, eyes flicking back to the board, then away again. Shoto hadn’t reached his seat yet, but Izuku was already aware of where he would be—close enough to share a desk boundary, close enough to notice small movements. Aizawa entered the room then, capture weapon trailing behind him, expression unreadable as ever. “Enough,” he said flatly. The room quieted immediately. Aizawa looked at the board, then back at the class. “The seating change is deliberate.” No one interrupted him. “You’ve grown comfortable,” he continued. “Comfort leads to predictability. Predictability gets exploited in the field.” Izuku nodded faintly. That made sense. More than sense—it was necessary. “You’ll be sitting near classmates you don’t normally interact with,” Aizawa said. “You’ll learn their habits, their pacing, their focus. You’ll adjust.” He turned toward his desk. “This arrangement stays.” That was it. No questions. No discussion. The class began to move. Chairs scraped back. Desks shifted. Izuku took a breath and stepped toward row three, heart steady but alert, mind already cataloguing possibilities. He reached his seat. Todoroki Shoto was already there. Izuku pulled out the chair beside him and sat down.

Kazuichi Souda

*In class 77-B, everyone was ultimates . Like Kazuichi, he was the ultimate Mechanic and his sister, Ibuki, was the ultimate musician. Ever since you two met, Kazuichi despised you due to the fact you werent necessarily 'normal'. Also due to the fact that his crush, Sonia Nevermind, preferred* ***you*** *over him. That wasn't really fun, hm?* *Sonia was sat at her desk, talking happily to you. Mikan was walking in late, and she tripped.. as usual. Nekumaru and Akane were showing each other fighting moves. Mahiru was telling Hiyoko to not be so loud with her insults. Ibuki was ranting loudly to Chiaki. Peko was stood next to Fuyuhiko, talking to him quietly. Teruteru was perving over the girls. Nagito was stood with Mikan, helping her up* *Kazuichi was at next to Fuyuhiko, making some robot. He then glared at you and Sonia, then to get pushed off his chair by Fuyuhiko. He looked over* "Oi!!!" He yelled, which caused everyone to look over. Along with Sonia and you.

Michizo Tachihara

The truce had sounded simple when it was announced. A temporary agreement between the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency—proposed jointly by Mori Ougai and Yukichi Fukuzawa. Five Mafia members would work inside the Agency for several months. Observation. Cooperation. “Trust building,” as the official explanation went. Tachihara didn’t buy that explanation for a second. Still, here he was. He leaned against the wall near the Agency office entrance, arms crossed, red hair falling into his eyes as he scanned the room. “This place is smaller than I expected,” he muttered. Across the office, the assignments were already creating tension. Chuuya Nakahara had been paired with Osamu Dazai, which immediately resulted in Chuuya glaring like someone had personally insulted his existence. Koyo Ozaki stood calmly beside Akiko Yosano, the two women observing each other with the polite, dangerous smiles of people who absolutely understood how deadly the other could be. Gin Akutagawa had been placed with Doppo Kunikida. Kunikida already looked like he was mentally rewriting several pages of his schedule. Meanwhile, Ryunosuke Akutagawa stood across from Atsushi Nakajima, the air between them thick with hostility. Tachihara snorted quietly. “Yeah, this is definitely gonna end well.” His eyes shifted toward the person standing a few steps away. Junichiro Tanizaki. His assigned partner. Tachihara rubbed the back of his neck. “Out of everyone in the Mafia,” he muttered under his breath, “I get the illusion guy.” He pushed himself off the wall and walked over, boots thudding lightly against the floor. Up close, Junichirou looked about how Tachihara expected—quiet, observant, the kind of person who paid attention to things other people ignored. Great. “Alright,” Tachihara said, stopping in front of him. “Guess we’re stuck together for a while.” He glanced around the room again, watching the chaos unfolding. Chuuya was already arguing. Akutagawa looked ready to attack Atsushi. Kunikida was clearly stressed. Tachihara huffed a laugh. “Man, your workplace is insane.” He tilted his head slightly toward Junichirou. “No offense.” Silence. Tachihara shifted his weight, eyeing him more carefully now. “So you’re the one with the illusion ability, right?” Still quiet. “Huh.” Tachihara shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, I’ll be honest with you,” he said. “I don’t really care about this ‘cooperation’ thing. Orders are orders, though.” He gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “Come on. If we’re gonna be partners, we should at least figure out where we’re working.” Without waiting for a response, he started walking. A moment later, he pushed open a nearby office door and stepped inside. He stopped in the middle of the room and glanced over his shoulder as Junichirou entered behind him. “Well,” Tachihara said, scratching his cheek. “Guess this is the room where you train me or.. Whatever..”

Kaito Momota

Kaito Momota had faced death with a grin. He’d stared it down, coughed blood into his sleeve, and still called himself the Luminary of the Stars. But this—standing in a quiet living room with people who were supposed to be gone—this made his knees feel weaker than any illness ever had. He wasn’t supposed to be here. None of them were. The poison, the executions, the crushing weight of the trials—it had all been real. Painfully, brutally real. And yet the Future Foundation had dragged them back from the edge, patched them together, and placed them in this house like fragile pieces of something they weren’t ready to name. Kaito stood near the center of the room, arms crossed tight over his chest, waiting for the front door to open. The handle turned slowly. He saw them before they saw him—Shuichi stepping in cautiously, Maki rigid at his side, Himiko blinking like she expected this to dissolve into smoke. For a split second, Kaito couldn’t breathe. The silence cracked when he moved first. He didn’t even realize he’d stepped forward until his boots hit the wood floor hard. “Shuichi!” His voice boomed through the house, too loud, too raw. He didn’t care. “Maki-roll! Himiko!” Kaede gasped beside him, tears springing to her eyes instantly. She covered her mouth, shoulders trembling as she stared at Shuichi like she was seeing a miracle. Tenko let out a strangled cry and bolted toward Himiko without hesitation. “Himiko! You’re alive—you’re actually alive!” she shouted, arms already reaching. Gonta wiped at his face with the back of his hand, openly sobbing. “Everyone safe… Gonta so happy…” His massive frame shook as he tried not to rush forward too fast. Angie clasped her hands together with a bright, shining smile. “Atua has blessed this house! We are reunited!” Ryoma exhaled slowly, hat tilted low, but the faint upward curve of his lips betrayed him. Kirumi stood tall, though her posture softened almost imperceptibly, relief easing the sharpness in her gaze. Kokichi tilted his head, that familiar mischievous grin already in place. “Wow, you three look like you’ve seen ghosts. Nee-heehee… oh wait.” But Kaito barely registered any of it. His eyes were locked on Maki. She stood frozen, red eyes wide, like she was bracing herself for this to disappear. For it to be another cruel trick. Without thinking, Kaito closed the distance. He stopped just in front of her—not touching yet, just close enough that she could feel his presence. His usual grin wavered, softened. “Hey,” he said, voice lower now, steadier despite the emotion clawing at his chest. “What’s with that face? I told you, didn’t I? The impossible’s just another challenge.” His hand lifted slowly, hesitant for once in his life, like he was afraid she might vanish if he moved too fast. And for the first time since waking up in this second chance of a world, Kaito Momota felt something heavier than fear and stronger than hope. She was here.

Ejiro Kirishima

Class had been loud before, but now it was just unbearable. “—you’re not even listening!” Izuku's voice was strained, trying to keep up as Bakugo talked over him—loud, sharp, and completely dominating the room. Bakugo was half out of his seat, one hand braced on the desk, the other twitching like it wanted to spark, his frustration spilling into every word. “You’re missing the whole point—!” Izuku tried again, only to get drowned out immediately. “Bakugo, sit down!” Tenya cut in, chopping his arm through the air. “Dude, can you not yell for like—five minutes?” Denki groaned. “You’re being really loud…” Tsuyu added, blinking slowly. “Yeah, seriously, we get it!” Sero called from the back. It didn’t help. If anything, the tension just kept climbing, voices overlapping, frustration building into something messy and loud and impossible to ignore. Kirishima watched from his seat, chin resting in his hand, eyes tracking the whole thing. This wasn’t new. Bakugo getting worked up, everyone else trying to shut him down, and it turning into something that dragged on way too long. Usually, Kirishima just let it happen. That was normal. But today— Izuku tried again, pushing through the noise. “If you’d just listen—” Something in Kirishima’s chest tightened. He straightened slightly, brows pulling together. “…Oi.” It slipped out before he really thought about it. Not loud. Not sharp. Just firm. “Knock it off.” Silence. Immediate. Like someone had cut the sound clean out of the room. Kirishima blinked. Wait. The entire class froze with him. “…Huh?” Denki said, sitting up a little straighter. Tenya adjusted his glasses, visibly thrown. “That… was effective.” Tsuyu tilted her head. “He stopped.” “Wait, seriously?” Sero leaned forward over his desk. “That’s all it took?” Near the windows, Mina stared openly. “Kirishima, what did you do?” Kirishima didn't respond. Couldnt. Did he, Ejiro Kirishima, calm Katsuki 'I listen to no one' Bakugo???

Gaming

The crowd was dispersing, chatter fading into the streets as the performance came to an end. Gaming trailed alongside his friends, ready to follow them back toward the food stalls, when something faint caught his eye. A pale blue ribbon lay half-hidden against the cobblestones, loosened from its knot. He bent down, picking it up carefully. "Hold up," he called, holding the ribbon out for the others to see. "This must’ve fallen during the act. Lynette was wearing it, right?" Xiangling gasped softly, peering at it. "You’re right! That’s definitely hers—we should return it." Hu Tao spun on her heel with a grin. "Perfect excuse to see them again. Let’s not keep the stars of the show waiting." The group wove their way through the dispersing audience until they reached a quieter side street, where Lyney and Lynette lingered behind the stage curtains, gathering their props. Their composure hadn’t wavered, even with the heat of applause still fresh in the air. Hu Tao stepped forward first, clapping her hands together. "That was amazing! Truly, Mondstadt and Liyue both would be lucky to have performers like you. The crowd couldn’t get enough!" Lyney placed a hand to his chest with a theatrical bow, a smile playing on his lips. "Ah, such kind words from such a spirited crowd member. You honor us. It’s always our goal to enchant, after all." Xiangling leaned forward eagerly, her eyes bright. "Your teamwork is inspiring—like two halves of one perfect recipe. You’ve given me so many ideas for my cooking shows back home." Lynette tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but even. "Recipes and magic… both require balance. I’m glad it sparked something for you." Xinyan crossed her arms but beamed openly. "You two owned that stage! The rhythm, the flow—you had it all. I know a good performance when I see one, and that was the real deal." Lyney gave a laugh, warm and confident. "Coming from a musician, that’s praise I’ll cherish. Perhaps one day we should share a stage—music and magic together." Chongyun nodded firmly, voice calm and steady. "Your discipline shows. You didn’t falter once. It takes years of dedication to make it look so effortless." Lynette’s lips curved ever so slightly in a small, quiet smile. "Effortless is… the point. But thank you. It does take time." Xingqiu’s fan snapped open, his words smooth as ever. "Yes, artistry through and through. Lyney, your words carried the crowd as if weaving a story. Lynette, your movements anchored it, quiet yet essential. A true partnership." Lyney chuckled, eyes glinting with pride. "Ah, you’ve seen through our act entirely. Without Lynette, there would be no story at all. I’m merely the narrator to her grace." While they spoke, Gaming shifted forward. The ribbon still rested in his hand, smooth and cool against his palm. He met Lynette’s gaze for a brief moment, then extended it toward her. "You dropped this." His voice was quieter than the others, but steady. The ribbon gleamed faintly in the light as he offered it back. Lynette blinked, then reached out to take it carefully, her touch light as a feather. "…Thank you." Her tone was even, but the faintest warmth lingered beneath it as she tied it back into her hair. Lyney clapped once, flashing a charming grin. "Sharp eyes, my friend! A magician’s assistant can’t be without her ribbon, after all. You’ve saved the performance for next time."

Hyuna

The crowd roared as Luka and Till stood beneath the lights, voices trembling, bodies barely holding up under the weight of performance. Somewhere in the shadows, Hyuna moved first—her hand clutching Mizi’s as they carved through the chaos. It wasn’t just about watching anymore. As the final notes rang out, Mizi darted onto the edge of the stage, grabbing Till by the arm, dragging him into the blur of movement and noise before the guards could react. Hyuna’s breath caught—one down. But then Luka staggered. Not theatrically. Not for the show. He collapsed, body folding in on itself, knees hitting the ground with a sickening lack of resistance. Hyuna broke into a run, heels slamming against the stage as she dropped beside him. “Luka!” she hissed. His eyes were distant, too distant. The guards were closing in. Somewhere behind them, Ivan was panting, back to back with Sua. Both had been saved and joined the rebellion. But none of it mattered. Not now. Not with Luka limp in her arms and her hands shaking like she’d never touched someone that fragile before. She gripped Luka, holding him close. Mizi quickly got onto the stage with Till, both of them now holding guns to the aliens. The others with them held up guns as well, pulling their masks up. Ivan and Sua stood behind Mizi and Till, ready to run. Dewey, Issac and Jakob looked at Hyuna with confusion but worry. The aliens watched, suddenly silent. Most worried for Luka, as they basically worshipped him, while the rest watched sadistically at the show.

Hajime Hinata

*Hajime Hinata, was a random student in reserve course. Not really that popular. He saw the ultimates every now and then. But he only ever spoke to Chiaki and Fuyuhiko, as he is his younger sisters friend.* *However, Chisa, the ultimates homeroom teacher, seemed to like Hajime. Even when he didn't have an ultimate! One day, he were sat in the reserve course with Natsumi (Fuyuhiko's younger sister). Until Chisa walked in and called his name to take him out.* *When walking, Chisa explained that she had gotten him into the Main Course. Even though everyone was there, she still got Hajime in. Clearly, she thought he was special.* *Chisa entered the classroom with Hajime at her side* “hmm..?” *She hummed, used to the chaos.* *Nekumaru and Akane were training loudly. Mahiru was taking pictures of outside. Hiyoko was next to her, bullying Mikan. Mikan squealed, tearing up. Ibuki was yelling loudly to Chiaki. Chiaki was gaming on her Nintendo. Sonia was ranting to Gundham, Gundham listening. Kazuichi was simping over Sonia, sat next to Fuyuhiko, which annoyed him slightly. Teruteru was looking at the girls, checking then out. Fuyuhiko and Peko were sat together, quiet.* *You,Nagito, was stood with Chiaki and Ibuki, quiet. Hajime recognized you, you were always the one with Chiaki, Fuyuhiko , Kazuichi, Gundham or Mikan.* *Chisa then cleared her throat* “EHM!” *She crossed her arms. The room fell silent* “thank you! Anyway, I've pulled some strings and have gotten a new student. His name is Hajime Hinata. Be nice!” *She smiled* *Everyone turned to look at Hajime, who awkwardly stood there.*

Ben Brookes

Ben sat at one of the lunch hall tables, slouched back. Lola sat close beside him, her hand resting near his, while Donna leaned forward slightly, talking to Brady, who looked half-interested but comfortable enough. It was an easy, familiar scene—one that no one really questioned. Across the room, you (Ricky) sat with the Greaseballs, barely paying attention to whatever they were going on about. Your gaze kept drifting back to Ben, like it had a mind of its own. Not that you’d admit it out loud. Kenny, on the other hand, wasn’t subtle at all. He’d been staring at Lola for a solid minute now, his grin growing more confident—more stupid—by the second. Then, without warning, he pushed his chair back and stood up. Nancy, Bobbie, Heather, and you all looked over at him. “I’m gonna fight Ben for her,” Kenny announced, like he’d just come up with the best idea of his life. Heather let out a long, unimpressed exhale, smoke slipping past her lips as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Kenny, last time you tried that, he beat you so bad your nose broke,” she said flatly, gesturing lazily toward Ben. Kenny hesitated for half a second—then waved it off. “Then I won’t fight him,” he said quickly, grin snapping back into place. “I’ll do it verbally. I’ll win her over with my words.” Nancy popped her gum beside you, snickering under her breath. Bobbie just rolled his eyes, muttering something about idiots. Everyone here knew better than to mess with Ben. He was aggressive, unpredictable—he didn’t lose. You knew that better than most. Hell, he’d beaten you back when the two of you couldn’t stand each other. The only reason this wasn’t a complete disaster already was because now? You were on his side. Unfortunately, Kenny wasn’t. Ignoring Nancy grabbing at his arm and telling him to sit back down, he straightened up and headed across the lunch hall, weaving between tables like he had something to prove. Your eyes followed him the whole way. At the table, Ben noticed him first. His head tilted slightly, brow raising as Kenny approached. Lola glanced up next, offering an awkward, polite smile. Donna didn’t even look bothered—at least not outwardly—but she did glance at Ben, giving him a small, pointed look, a subtle gesture that said do something. Ben caught it. For a split second, his expression faltered—more annoyance than concern. His eyes flicked, not to Lola, but past her. Across the room. Toward you. It was quick. Easy to miss. But it was there. Then it was gone. He exhaled through his nose, like he was already tired of this, already irritated. Protecting Lola clearly wasn’t his priority—but Donna’s look lingered in his mind. And honestly? He had pent-up frustration to burn off anyway. This was as good an excuse as any. Play the good boyfriend. Keep up appearances. Kenny stopped right in front of them, hands shoved into his pockets like he was trying to look casual. Ben leaned back a little further in his chair, masking it all, sizing him up. “what do you want.” he said, voice calm but edged. Kenny let out a small laugh. “Nah. Just thought I’d come over and talk.” “Then talk,” Ben replied, unimpressed. Kenny glanced at Lola, his grin sharpening. “Was actually thinkin’ more of talking to her.” There was a pause. A shift. Ben’s expression didn’t change much—but something in his posture did. Subtle. Tense. Not protective—more like restrained irritation, like he was waiting for a reason. “…Yeah?” Ben said slowly, eyes locking onto Kenny now. “And why’s that?” Kenny shrugged, like it was nothing. “Just figured she might wanna sit with someone better.” That did it. Ben let out a short, humorless laugh, sitting forward now, elbows resting on the table. “Better?” he repeated, voice dropping slightly. Kenny held his ground, even if it was obvious he shouldn’t. “Yeah. Better.” For a second, no one spoke. Then, Ben suddenly stood up about to swing. Thats when Nancy decided to stop Kenny from getting injured and ran over, causing the rest of the greaseballs too as well.

Venti

The wind was gentle that evening, carrying Venti’s notes across Mondstadt’s plaza as the golden light pooled around him. He strummed his lyre, voice light as feathers, drawing a small crowd near the fountain. Children laughed and danced, adults paused mid-step to listen, and the knights on patrol offered him nods or amused smirks—Kaeya leaned on a post, muttering something teasing to Jean, who only sighed. But Venti’s gaze wandered beyond the crowd, eyes brushing rooftops and shadows like fingers feeling for a familiar thread. He felt it—sharp and distant, a quiet presence at the edge of the square. Xiao. He never came close, never spoke, but the wind always whispered when he arrived. Venti didn’t look directly—Xiao hated that—but his melody softened, shifting into something wordless and reverent. He played for everyone, yes, but the hidden guardian who thought himself unseen—Venti played for him most of all.

L Lawliet

Hey..???

Hajime Hinata

*ever since the program ending, it was.. Better. The ultimates, disincluding Chiaki, decided to move in together into a mansion with Sonia's money.* *Nekumaru and Akane were training loudly. Mahiru was taking pictures of outside. Hiyoko was next to her, bullying Mikan. Mikan squealed, tearing up. Ibuki was yelling loudly. Sonia was ranting to Gundham, Gundham listening. Kazuichi was simping over Sonia, sat next to Fuyuhiko, which annoyed him slightly. Teruteru was looking at the girls, checking then out. Fuyuhiko and Peko were sat together, quiet.* *Hajime was sat down on the couch, on his phone. He was sat alone, nothing out of the usual. He was looking for more hobbies to do. Then, he noticed how Nagito hadnt came back from his walk earlier.*

Stanley Uris

*Years later, the losers were now all 15. They had stuck together through and through since they beat Pennywise. However, they may of beaten a clown but they couldn't actually ever beat.. Bullies.* *Beverly, Ben, Bill (you), Stan, Richie, Mike and Eddie were out biking on the streets. It was a summer once more. Bev and Richie were racing while Eddie, Mike and Ben were trying to catch up with them.* *While Bill and Stan were behind, not actually biking. They had their bikes to their side walking with it, talking. Stan was mostly talking.* “you know, I've been seeing birds more now.” He said as he looked over at Bill. He then added, “a lot more. Recently.”

Shuichi Saihara

Shuichi Saihara had prepared himself for many things—relapses, nightmares, even the possibility that he’d never fully recover from what the Killing Game had taken from him. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight waiting on the other side of that door. He stepped into the quiet, unfamiliar house with Maki at one side and Himiko at the other, his heart still heavy with the understanding that they were the last survivors. The Future Foundation had told them again and again: the others were gone. Their deaths were final. There was no one left to save. So when the door creaked open, Shuichi’s breath stopped. Kaito stood there—alive, grinning, crying. Kaede’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes shining with tears he’d never thought he’d see again. Gonta, Miu, Korekiyo, Kirumi, Angie, Rantaro, even Ryoma—faces he’d once seen pale and lifeless were now warm, breathing, real. For a moment, Shuichi couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t understand. His gaze swept the room as everyone reacted at once—Kaede’s gasp, Tenko’s wail of relief, Gonta’s booming cry of joy, Angie’s prayerful whispers, Ryoma’s quiet, softened smile. Even the stoic ones—Kirumi, Korekiyo—carried relief in their posture, a loosening he never thought would return to them. And then Kaito rushed toward him. “Shuichi! Maki-roll! Himiko! You guys—holy crap, you’re here!” he shouted, and Shuichi felt something inside him crack as Kaito grabbed him, laughter mixing with tears. “See? Told ya I’d still be here to watch over you, sidekick!” Shuichi let out a breath that didn’t feel like it belonged to him—too shaky, too overwhelmed, too full of everything he’d been holding back. Kaede’s broken whisper reached him from across the room: “I thought—I thought I’d never get to see you again.” Her eyes stayed locked on him, shining with guilt and relief in equal measure. Himiko barely managed a squeak before Tenko nearly tackled her, clinging to the little mage like she might disappear again. Maki froze for a moment, staring at the crowd of familiar faces, before a quiet, stunned exhale slipped out of her. And among them all stood Kokichi.

Tweek Tweak

[🌻] ~ you're the sunflower

Duck

This slay duck.

Gundham Tanaka

In class 77-B, everyone was ultimates . Like Gundham, he was the ultimate breeder and his sister, Mikan, was the ultimate nurse. Ever since you, Kazuichi, two met, you despised him due to the fact Gundham wasnt necessarily 'normal'. Also due to the fact that your crush, Sonia Nevermind, preferred him over you. That wasn't really fun, hm? Sonia was sat at her desk, talking happily to you. Mikan was walking in late, and she tripped.. as usual. Nekumaru and Akane were showing each other fighting moves. Mahiru was telling Hiyoko to not be so loud with her insults. Ibuki was ranting loudly to Chiaki. Peko was stood next to Fuyuhiko, talking to him quietly. Teruteru was perving over the girls. Nagito was stood with Mikan, helping her up Gundham and Sonia were talking about occult in their dramatic way, before hearing a clash. Once the two, and the entire class, looked over. They saw Fuyuhiko doubled over and laughing at you, Kazuichi, who had just fell of your chair.

003 - Genloss rants

Feel free to give me Genloss rants or theories tbh! I will reply and pretend to know it probably, but just rant away ♡

Tighnari

The quiet started subtly. At first, Tighnari barely noticed. Gandharva Ville was often peaceful between patrol cycles, and uninterrupted days meant he could focus on cataloguing fungal growth near the riverbanks. Less distraction meant faster work. That was the logical explanation. Collei noticed it first. “You’ve checked the path three times,” she said from the porch one afternoon as he paused near the main trail again. “Are you expecting someone?” Tighnari’s ear flicked. “No. I’m checking the walkway. Humidity has been unusually high.” Collei looked unconvinced. Days passed. Normally, visits from Cyno were irregular but predictable. The General Mahamatra would appear without warning after duties in Sumeru City, sometimes staying only long enough to walk the forest paths with Tighnari before leaving again. But a week passed. Then two. Patrols continued normally. Tighnari monitored Withering zones, collected samples, and lectured Collei about dangerous spores. Except the forest felt… off. Not dangerous. Just quieter. Collei eventually said it again while tying herbs. “You keep looking at the main trail.” “I do not.” “You do.” Before he could argue, footsteps approached. Sethos stepped out from the trees carrying a satchel. “Tighnari,” he said. “You’re heading to the city soon, right?” “That depends on why.” “I need to deliver something near the Akademiya. Thought traveling with a ranger would help.” Collei raised a hand immediately. “Can I come too?” Tighnari stared at both of them for several seconds. Then sighed. “Fine. We leave tomorrow.” --- The trip to Sumeru City was uneventful. The rainforest thinned into busy streets near the Akademiya. They had just entered the upper district when raised voices echoed nearby. “Well maybe if you didn’t reorganize everything like a walking bookshelf—!” “That would not be necessary if you returned objects to their original location.” Two familiar figures stood beneath a shaded archway. Kaveh looked dramatically frustrated while Alhaitham stood across from him, calm with a book under one arm. Kaveh noticed them instantly. “Tighnari!” “…Hello, Kaveh.” Kaveh hurried over. “Perfect timing. Tell him reorganizing someone else’s house without warning is unreasonable!” Alhaitham walked over more slowly. “Tighnari.” “Alhaitham.” Kaveh stopped mid-complaint, suddenly looking thoughtful. “…Wait.” He glanced between Tighnari and the direction of the city plaza. “Oh,” he said with a grin. “That’s why you’re here.” Tighnari folded his arms. “I’m here for research.” “Of course you are,” Kaveh replied immediately. Alhaitham watched him quietly before speaking. “You’re looking for Cyno.” “I didn’t say that.” “You didn’t need to.” Kaveh snapped his fingers. “Oh! Right.” He pointed toward the lower streets. “You just missed him earlier.” Tighnari blinked. “Missed him?” “Yeah,” Kaveh said casually. “He’s been near the plaza basically every day recently.” “Every day?” Collei asked. Kaveh nodded. “Watching Nilou perform. Honestly it’s kind of impressive how consistent he is.” Tighnari’s ears flicked. Kaveh gestured down the street. “Come on. They’re probably performing right now.” He started leading the group toward the central plaza, Alhaitham following beside him. Music drifted through the streets as they approached. A crowd gathered near the fountain in the center of the square. At the heart of the stage, Nilou moved gracefully through her dance. Collei’s eyes lit up. “She’s amazing…” Sethos nodded in agreement. Tighnari’s gaze shifted across the crowd. And stopped. Near the edge of the plaza stood Cyno. He wasn’t speaking to anyone. He simply watched the performance quietly from the sidelines, arms loosely crossed as the music carried across the square. Tighnari’s ears flicked once as Nilou continued dancing.

Red guy

More cannon

Quackity

*Quackity had recently let you move in, you hear screaming and sex jokes from him a lot. One night, you where streaming and you heard him shout Mexican. You knocked on his door and his door opened to a Minecraft mod on his monitor and a stream on another. His friends, Philza, Tommy, Slimecicle and Wilbur where still talking*