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Ribbon beans for you guysšāŗļøā„ļø
Day 2 Tokyo Training Camp
I finally made a title page! And the comic finally has an official name would you look at that high fives all around
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<Back (First)
HEY Iām starting a comic! Iām not sure how long itās going to be, but I CAN tell you itās going to be so cheesy, like picture the cheesiest mac and cheese youāve ever eaten- cheesier than that. Iām going to try to update once a week, so here we go!
Start the comic!
Koutarou attends The Nutcracker for his sister, Kai, who's dancing as the Snow Queen.Ā
This is her second year in the role, but he missed last time, so heās so excited! He canāt wait to see his big sister dance!Ā
And then he sees him.Ā
In the role of the Snow King is a young prodigy named Akaashi Keiji. Heās a year younger than Koutarou, and his sister says Akaashi is āthe best dance partner sheās ever had.ā
Koutarou is immediately enamored. His eyes follow Akaashi wherever he goes on stage, despite Kai being the focal point of the routine. Heās lean, but obviously so strong, capable of lifting, throwing and catching his sister flawlessly. Effortlessly.
(Also, those tights look so good on him.)
Koutarou pretty much begs his sister to introduce them. āPlease! Iāll do anything!ā He cries as he unleashes the full force of his pout. āI donāt even care if heās not available or interested in me! I just want to meet him!ā
She finally relents after a week of his hassling. Koutarou attends the show again on closing night. Heās a bit nervous. The Nutcracker has been a huge hit, with critics and audiences alike praising the Snow Queen and King specifically. Akaashiās name is on everyoneās lips; he's āthe next big thingā in the Tokyo dance scene.
āCalm down, Kou,ā Kai hisses as she leads him down the hall and towards the theaterās green room. āHeās just a person just like you. Trust me, itāll be fine.ā
Koutarou nods. Swallows. He holds his breath as they finally step into the room.
cassie needs some comfort from his soft cousin
Sometimes I think about how proud Mama Miya must be. She raised two hardworking boys who are now so successful and instead of letting success pull them apart they're still as close as ever.
She's probably really relieved that they both also found special people who will look after them when she's gone. But for the time being, she's happy to still kiss their booboos and make them her special chikuzenni cause no one does it the way she does (or so Osamu says).
And as the years pass and she gets too old, her dear Atsumu and Osamu insist that she has to come and live with them, so she divides her time between the two.
She bonds with Rin over all the TV dramas when she stays with Osamu. He even sets up an IG account of her cooking. When it first started, she was known as Miya Osamu's mother, but lately Osamu has been known as Mama Miya's Baby instead. She has more followers than he does.
Sweet Omi spoils her like a princess when she stays with Atsumu. He also takes charge when she's feeling poorly. Atsumu frets on the verge of barely controlled panic, but Omi listens calmly and talks with the doctor. She reckons he knows her medical history better than she does.
When she meets friends on the street and they ask her how her babies are doing, she can't help but smile and say "Let me buy you a coffee." because she needs all the time in the world to talk about her four special boys.
and here is⦠spidermans
Charlie teaches Sam how to French braid his hair
Would you give this little osamu an onigiri ? š
second chances can only get you so far
afternoon date with your local hero š·ļø
veela draco au and the shameful malfoy secret
3am at the Youth Training Camp
Atsumu: Yer my moon
Kiyoomi, flushing and turning away: And you are my starsā¦
Komori, groaning: And youāre both fucking gay, go to bed!
šŗšŗ kghn abo hybrid au
[ ref isp ]
Literally had a feral moment and had to sketch this out before I forget it-
Malfoy saves harry from couldāve been a real bad fall during quidditch without really thinking vibe. Which shifts their dynamic~
soooo I was very obsessed and decided to write a little blurb for it. I hope thatās alright!
There was more than a bit of irony in it, Harry thought, in dying this way.
Surviving six years of plots, a resurrected Dark Lord, and a bloody War. All for him to die in a Quidditch accident. The Boy Who Lived taken out by just a little bit of hubris and quite a lot of gravity.
McGonagall had finally been worn down by Harryās excessive whinging about Eighth Years not being permitted to play on House teams. āBut Professor,ā heād moped on more than one occasion, ādonāt we deserve to have some fun after everything weāve been through?ā The stern lines of her face had slowly drooped into fond exasperation, allowing Harryāall Eighth Years, ratherāthis silver lining.
It was only now, his fingers slipping off the sweaty, glistening wooden handle of his Firebolt, a cry of āFuck!ā tumbling from his lips, that Harry wished heād just let it go and committed himself to a year of diligent study like Hermione had suggested.
The snitch had pulled down at the last moment, and Harry ā overconfident, overeager, and very much underprepared ā had tried a move he was a good month or so away from having back in his arsenal. Biting November wind nipped at his cheeks, thrashing against his ribs and burrowing in his bones as he hung there. Thereād be no Dumbledore to stop his descent this time.
Harryās fingers cramped and he knew heād fall, could feel the realization settle over him like some macabre veil. He felt the air rush through the still-growing gap that now existed between his fingers and his broom. He squeezed his eyes shut, flinching away from the sunlight that shone directly into his eyes, when he felt a pressure on his forearm.
Opening his eyes, Harry peered up, gaze zeroing in immediately on the long, nimble, fingers wrapped firmly around him. Sliding up further, he felt his eyes widen at the sight that greeted him: a similarly wide-eyed Draco Malfoy, ruddy and panting, shoulders and chest heaving under the leathers of his kit. His hair glowed against the backdrop of the sun and clouds behind him, illuminating his face like some kind of god, or at least the subject of a revered renaissance painting.
Harry swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry. āMalfoyā¦?ā
Malfoy said nothing, opting to stare at Harry for a few raw seconds before he began lifting. Dance with Death evaded, Harry jolted into action, extending his free arm towards the free space at the back of Malfoyās broom. They managed to pull him up onto the broom where Harry lunged forward, wrapping his arms frighteningly tight around Malfoyās waist, cheek and ear pressed up against his back.
Eyes screwed shut once again, Harry heard only the gasping of his own shallow breaths and the thundering heartbeat of the body against his. He shivered, images rushing in unbidden of the reverse from only five months ago. A room aflame with acrid air.
Wind stung his cheeks, his nose. They were moving. After some indeterminate amount of time, he felt the gentle press of a hand against his knee pad. He opened his eyes to Malfoyās head angled back towards him. He jerked his chin towards the unassuming Firebolt hovering in the air next to them, as if the blasted twig hadnāt just thrown Harry off.
Harry nodded against the solid muscle of Malfoyās back before he carefully got back on his broom. The place where Mafloyās fingers had been burned under the layers of protective gear and robes. They stared at each other, unblinkingly. No words passed between them. The air felt heavy between them, charged with something Harry couldnāt name.
Before long, the fickle snitch appeared in the small space between them, but neither of their gazes faltered.
Harry couldnāt remember how the game ended, couldnāt have been bothered to try, either. He mustāve caught the snitch, though, because he was aware of some hearty back slaps and congratulations among the crowd of mostly worried Professors and students. He barely registered the presence of Hermione and Ron at one elbow, a frazzled Professor McGonagall at his other.
All he had eyes for was the retreating figure of a towering blond in green, flowing robes, who cast a look of his own. Their eyes met for moment, the air stilling around him. Malfoy turned back first, moving into the changing rooms, but Harry was unable to look away long after he was gone.
monstersā feast