#loona speaks

[writinganddyinginside]

Piano Concerto

Danganronpa Drabble

Word Count: 774.

Ships: Kaede Akamatsu/Miu Iruma.

CW

N/A

Credits

Banner: PNGs from @/pngsgalore and @/oldnetreasures. Texture by @/pscs5

Divider: @/cafekitsune

See on other platforms: [Twitter] [AO3]

Kaede shouldn’t have felt so nervous. There was a nervousness she always held, regardless of what she was playing, how much she practiced, who was going to be there. But this time who was going to be there mattered. It mattered even though it shouldn’t have, since she saw the girl literally two days before.

Kaede wondered if she was upset at all.

Two nights ago, she gave the girl a ticket and invitation, asking her to attend. It didn’t have Kaede’s name on it at all, and she kind of acted as if she was going to be attending with her… As Kaede peeked into the crowd she saw her. Done up in lovely reds and pinks. She was looking down at her phone; she looked upset, maybe. Hopefully Kaede hadn’t messed up. She continued to convince the woman that she was looking for her in the audience until she felt too bad to continue because she knew that the other was smart.

She hoped, more than anything else, that Miu wouldn’t leave.

Luckily she could still see her as an announcer began to speak. Her eyes were trained, as if the seat would be empty if she blinked. The only thing that broke the gaze was her cue to step up onto the stage. From there, she focused solely on not looking. 

She sat down on the piano bench in a sky blue color, a long, almost Victorian dress that she no doubt felt pretty in. Her hair laid braided over her shoulder and she was all but grateful that she wasn’t sweating off the makeup she’d put on. It was unnecessary, perhaps, but because she knew Miu was watching her it was worth it.

Kaede would be surprised if she noticed taking a single breath before the final note of the piece was played. She stood and gave the deepest bow she could muster, disappeared off the stage as soon as she had had enough of the applause.

Kaede waited for the inventor somewhere near the exit. Miu was as excited as Kaede had dreamed, and then some. “Holy shit! Don’t get me wrong, I was fuckin’ stewing there for a hot sec waiting for you, but then—shit!” They laughed and hugged, not nearly tight enough. “Kaede, that was beautiful. I knew you said you played piano but I didn’t know it was like that!”

“Thank you! I really worried that you were mad at me—I mean, you were, but I’m glad you liked it! In the end.” Kaede finally got a look at the way Miu was dressed as they separated. A satin slip, fading from pink to red. High ponytail and jewelry that probably produced light in total darkness. “And you look… so amazing and pretty and I wouldn’t have wanted to, yknow, waste all that.”

“Yeah! I busted my ass to look this hot, I swear… and not in a likable way either! But.. I’m happy you like it. Thanks, Kaede.” Miu took her hand and held it, and it was a perfect thing. She was looking at what the both of them were wearing, just as Kaede had done a second before. “There’s totally different vibes going on here, but that’s not something I give a fuck about. You are stunning! A real princess.” Miu goes a little pink in the face as she speaks and the awestruck words have Kaede flushing red. It was too much and not enough.

“Thank you, Miu! This was really fun! I really liked performing for you. And everyone else, I guess.” It was a joke, partially. 

“I think I only liked the piece when you played it.”

“Have you ever even heard it before today?”

“Didn’t need to! Okay, so I know it’s like, whatever-o-clock, but I feel like we should go somewhere else. Can we? I’m not going home yet.” Miu made her way outside, and Kaede was effectively dragged with her. She giggled, lifting her dress to step over puddles on the ground.

“Where could we even go, Miu?” She wasn’t objecting to the idea; frankly, she would spend the whole night with Miu if fate somehow allowed. She didn’t think it was possible now but she wanted it so badly. Anywhere would suffice.

“I don’t know, somewhere! Maybe we should find another piano, so you can play more for me. Put on a show.”

Kaede laughed at the persistence. “I don’t need to play piano all the time. You actually shouldn’t enable me! I won’t stop.”

“Well then I should, right? Why would I want you to stop?”

At least it was a nice sentiment.

[poetic-positivity]

Have a few smiles to help you get through the day:

:]

:)

:D

[:

(:

:>

:7

<:

:-)

:-D

(-:

:^)

(^:

[writinganddyinginside]

Higher Than Ever Together

Danganronpa Drabble

Word Count: 816.

Ships: Shuichi Saihara/Hajime Hinata. + Mentions of other characters.

CW

Mentions of drought

Mentions of death

Heights

Isolation

Credits

Banner: PNGs from @/luvpngs, @/4everpluie, @/thepngpixie, @/pngsgalore, and @/adjpngs

Divider: @/fairytopea

Heavily inspired by Cloud Climber by Two Star Games.

See on other platforms: [Twitter] [AO3]

“Can you even see the fifth tower anymore?”

“No. But we know where it is, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Hajime’s eyesight was better than Shuichi’s. Not by a landslide, but enough that sometimes Shuichi would ask him, “Am I seeing this right?” and trust his answer. Shuichi was weaker in some sense, too. He could hold real steady, which was valuable when it came to holding boards and nails in place, but he had never really built any structure in his life before the drought started.

Not that Hajime had built a whole tower before either, but he had done handiwork with his parents before. Shuichi hadn’t done anything like this. He said he felt the same way now that he felt growing up, now that everyone was gone. Not exactly the same, of course, since Hajime was here.

Now that they were truly alone, they’d often forget what they had even been doing up here.

“What are we going to do when we get to the fifth tower again?”

“Build to the seventh tower.”

“Because the sixth tower fell.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

They relax and look out at the view multiple times a day. Because they have all day. No one’s waiting for them.

“Byakuya Togami,” Shuichi blurts out as they sit in the middle of the bridge between towers Two and Three. He was extremely anxious about stilling on the bridges and staircases at one point, but he’s used to it now.

“What?”

“He was in the sixth tower.”

“When it fell?”

“Yeah. I remember because… because I spoke to him once. When he was further this way.”

“I heard he was an asshole.”

“He is. Your brother said he’s a bit worse for wear now, though. Apparently he used to be ruder.”

“Makoto?”

“Yeah, your brother.” Shuichi turned to look at Hajime, perhaps searching for some semblance of disbelief that wasn’t there.

“Oh.

“Come on, let’s go.”

The sixth tower incident was the most widely remarked and remembered, for obvious reasons. Byakuya fell along with Celestia Ludenburg, Takemichi Yukimaru, Hiyoko Saionji, Tsumugi Shirogane, and some others they couldn’t remember. There was a larger number of people in the tower, and the only reason they remembered Takemichi is because he likes to yell across the towers and so everyone knew him, if not by his name then as “the guy who screams occasionally”.

“I knew Hiyoko,” Hajime remarked, lugging his bag to the end of the bridge. The stairs that went upward from the bridge were broken so Hajime immediately walked around the walkway balcony  attached to the actual tower structure to where he knew wood would be. Shuichi went into the inside of the tower, looking through all the chests and shelves and looking across the table. He found clothes, and left them. He found papers, and took them. “What was she like?” he exclaimed through the door.

“Irritating…

“She wasn’t bad, though. I guess. Just liked to mess with people.”

Shuichi stuffed the pieces of paper into his bag and pulled out nails as he rushed out to the broken staircase. “Do you know anything about her?”

Hajime shrugged, laying a piece of wood in place for Shuichi to hold nails to. 

“She was a dancer. Real small traditional dancer. ‘S why she didn’t build anything. Just distributed food and water. Sometimes people asked her to dance for them. She didn’t really like when people asked, though.”

“Oh. She sounds interesting.” Shuichi doesn’t know what to say.

“Mhm. This should be good enough.”

“Okay. Maybe I have something of hers. Are there more nails over there before we get too high?—I don’t think I’ll have enough. I can carry a whole bag if there’s a whole bag.”

“There is some—here. You might have some official stuff; I don’t know if she’s the journal type.”

“Thank you. I don’t really like to read people’s diaries anyway.”

They built all the way to the next floor of the tower, carrying more wood and nails and materials than before. Hajime hauled most of the weight.

Shuichi rejoined Hajime at the bottom of the next staircase, paper crinkling in his personal bag. “Can we stop at the top?”

“We’re not going to the top.”

“Ah—I meant when we get to the bridge.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, thanks. Sorry—I just get kind of tired.”

“I know. It’s okay. I get tired, too. Gotta carry everything.”

Shuichi huffs in place of another apology, fundamentally understanding the lack of complaint in his partner’s light-hearted tone.

They sat down before the threshold of the bridge going from Tower Three to Four. They ate some of what food they had and Shuichi pulled out a paper randomly from his bag, then opened the bag up to Hajime for him to do the same. So they each opened their little piece of paper and began reading through the things their compatriots left behind.

[writinganddyinginside]

Would’ve Been Yesterday, But

Dangnaronpa Drabble

Word Count: 778.

Ships: Nagito Komaeda/Hajime Hinata.

CW

Death

Credits

Banner: PNGs from @/liltingaway, @/pommecita, @/aqualogia, @/poemale, @/boofinator, and @/nightmarereverie.

Divider: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Heavily inspired by Tazz’s concept, a scene of a random movie I remember, and a fanfic I’ve mostly forgotten.

See on other platforms: [Twitter] [AO3]

The house was loud from the noises of the kitchen. The water runs in the sink. A saucy dish simmers with low and heavy pops. Most of the noise comes from Komaeda, kneading dough into a bowl; it tilts and clatters and clanks as he pushes his whole body weight into manipulating the dough. 

When Hinata finally clues himself into what all the sound is, he immediately stops what he’s doing with the dish he’s rinsing.

“Nagito,” he speaks, quickly dreading the possibility of the whole bowl hitting the floor. “You can put it on the counter. You don’t have to beat it into the bowl like that.”

The bowl continues to scrape and slip on the countertop. Komaeda mutters low, “It’ll stick… It doesn’t stick to this…” He huffs and almost knocks the wind out of himself. Hinata can hear him tunnel visioning, nearly tussling with this bread dough, while he reaches for the flour somewhere on the other side of the kitchen. They have to make more space on the counter to spread some flour around without immediately disturbing their strangely energetic husband. 

Komaeda lets Hinata guide his hands, tilting the bowl and scooping the dough onto the coated surface. “If you put flour under it, it won’t stick. And then you don’t have to fight with the dishes.”

Komaeda only chuckles. He goes back to kneading the dough, green and floral cover up sleeves catching a dusting of flour when he presses down with all he has. He’s just smiling. 

Hinata watches for a captivating moment.

Komaeda’s portion is a third of Hinata’s. Hinata finishes first. They wait for him.

They made the bread last, because Komaeda found it more enjoyable than any dessert, for some reason. Hinata isn’t as excited, but eats it while their husband hums a song they’ve nearly forgotten.

Hinata rests on the sofa. His eyes are closed when the grainy and crackly sound of old music begins to play out loud. And they open to the movement of their husband, still dirty with flour, spinning and stepping rhythmically around the room. Komaeda only smiles and laughs as he makes eye-contact with Hinata, gliding past with just enough of a pause to grab and kiss the back of their hand. Nagito liked this song, Hinata guessed. They’d never heard it before.

“Hajime, come on.”

Hinata opens their eyes again. Komaeda’s pulling at their arm with more might than they expect. With the smallest of huffs they stand from their seat, adjusting their clothes along the way to the middle of the living room floor.

Hinata remembers only a few basic steps from the dances Komaeda once taught him. They try to get the frailer man to do those steps, and he refuses.

So Hinata stumbles on his feet trying to follow along and keep up, which Komaeda also finds funny and laughs at. Hinata gets over his embarrassment and confusion, only because Komaeda laughs.

Komaeda lies flat on his back in bed. Hinata curls around him, side of his head resting on Komaeda’s chest. The bedroom’s clock ticks in his right ear. 

“Thank you, Hajime.” A few days ago, Komaeda would have hesitated to say Hinata’s first name. Today, he’s sure they’re his husband.

Hinata’s forehead is lightly pressed against Komaeda’s wedding band on a necklace chain and he can feel it making an indent in his skin. He fidgets and spins the band around his own finger. Clock ticking in his right ear, Komaeda’s heartbeat in his left ear.

“For what?”

“Today.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. I didn’t give you today.”

“Then who did?”

He doesn’t know. 

The clock ticks in his right ear. Komaeda’s heart beats in his left. 

He defaults to, “Just rest well, Nagito.” Mumbled into the paler man’s skin. “You did a lot today.”

Komaeda pets their hair. “Because you gave me today.” Hinata doesn’t find it serious, but doesn’t comment either way. The sound of Komaeda’s fingers lightly scratching his scalp resonates through his skull for a moment, and then silences.

“Good night, Nagito. I love you,” Hinata finally manages. Komaeda doesn’t say anything.

Clock ticking in his right ear.

Hinata revels in the light pressure Komaeda’s hand puts on his head. 

Ticking in his right ear. 

Suddenly his stomach drops and his throat tightens. But his mind is so clear. 

Ticking in his right ear. 

This is what he was listening for. 

The clock ticking in his right ear.

[poetic-positivity]

To the trans women of the world,

You are…

Beautiful

Amazing

Wonderful

Stupendous

Valid

And most importantly…

A

Woman

[poetic-positivity]

To everyone who feels rough around the edges, who feels like they cut everyone around them...

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that the world made you rough and angry

I'm sorry that it hurts

And I'm sorry that your heart is raw and bleeding

Please know that you deserve softness too

You deserve to not just feel pain

That you are more than your anger

Even the most prickly of cacti can blossom the most beautiful of flowers.

[poetic-positivity]

To the ones who are non-verbal,

Whether it’s a choice,

Or something out of your control,

You are wonderful and amazing.

You deserve nothing but love and understanding

Whether you communicate with sign language (such an expressive language! So fluid and beautiful)

Or through written word

Or not at all

Know that the way you communicate (or don’t)

Is special,

Is wonderful,

Is so uniquely you,

That I can’t help but adore it.

I am not someone who regularly becomes/is non-verbal (has only happened once when I was extremely overwhelmed) so if I caused offense please tell me

[poetic-positivity]

If you took a shower today:

I’m so proud of you!!! Good job ^^!!! /gen

If you washed up today:

🎉🎊🥳

Good job!!! /gen

If you brushed your teeth today:

!!!! Yay!!! Good for you!!!!! I’m so happy!!! And so proud!!!! /gen

If you didn’t do any of those things today:

It’s okay! It takes a lot of energy (or spoons) to do those things! And sometimes (or all the time) we don’t have the energy (or spoons) to do it. Tomorrow is a new day, and it’s never too late to start ^-^! /pos