...?

"……. No… Don’t go…"

boy’s trying to  get some sleep for once but 

(click through pls)

Don’t weep For me.

Sonya steps into the center of a ring, looking around. The spotlight on her makes it hard, but she can see enough to realize the surroundings are painfully familiar. This is her stage, in her circus…Or a damned good replica. Honestly she doesn’t care, the sight is enough to comfort her, and she flies into her normal routine with a smile and a bow. Time for one last show. The greatest show on earth. Except this show is like none other. Sonya’s tricks, which usually come to mind as naturally as breathing are faltering. She drops her playing cards and they swarm around her, slicing into her skin and clothes.  She pays it no mind and continues to smile, trying to keep a brave face on. She’s gotta do this, for them. It’s hard to tell with the spotlight but it almost looks like she’s smiling through tears. She moves on from the cards, and tries to pull a bouquet of paper flowers out of her gloves, but the flowers catch alight, and she drops them in a panic, stepping back from the burning mess. She quickly gives another bow to the imagined audience, apologizing for her failure. It continues on for a while, each trick she tries failing at her hands in one way or another, until a large box drops behind her with a clang, and robotic sounding booing echoes around her. Sonya eyes the box, recognizing it, and knows what she must do.  She walks up to it, and turns to the fake audience one last time and bows. “For my Final Trick!” She calls out, brushing tears away from her face. “I shall, as most magicians do! Make myself disappear! It is quite a feat…” She laughs and gestures at the box, shaking with the effort to keep from sobbing. “I…I am sorry…” she says, though whether it’s loud enough to hear is questionable and with a wave, steps into the box. As soon as the door closes on her, swords, knives, spears, all manner of sharp objects start to pierce the box flying in from all sides. It’s a deadly, deadly trick, but there’s no way a Super Highschool Level Magician wouldn’t be able to handle it right? It all goes silent as the last sword pierces the box….Blood seeping out from the the holes in the box. And then, slowly, painfully slowly the box’s door swings open. To reveal… That Sonya Ivanov, Super Highschool Level Stage Magician, had failed her final trick, and had been executed.

turn down

new muse page icon… haha…

State of body: Curled up behind the operating table, hands clutched around a bloody stab wound.

"Uh," he says blankly, as the distinct sound of sobbing makes its way to his ears, and considering he’s standing in the doorway, there’s only one place it could be coming from. "You… okay…?" he asks, damn well knowing the answer already, but it’s one of those things you just have to ask, y’know? He slowly pokes his head in, seeing a giant-ass mess on the floor that he has dibs on not cleaning up already. "Yanaihara3…?"

Just after that preemptive strike, a small hatless head peeps over the rim of the island, hands up and nails digging into his scalp, eyes red like he'd already been crying for ten years. This is not the face of a guy who is ready to accept outside assistance. What the hell, the guy still had his eyepatch on, what kind of horrible backwards meritocracy was CAL running, what did he do to deserve getting hit the hardest out of everybody, this was so fucked. This unnaturally mean sentiment comes out as a piteous whimper. Help him.

And with that, the gravity is gone. Hope you like floating. 

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i dont remember tracing that one image to make it look like t hese g uys

"…Is…. it even comfortable to be sitting in a place like that." Was he considering it? Kind of. Of course he was a lot taller than Yuu, but he was a Kaneko. They were all stupidly animal-like, why would he be any different? “…Wait, no, it is fine. You do not have to answer that.” He wasn’t expecting an answer anyway, to be honest, but he couldn’t help but say something. This was how all his conversations with Biscuit or Noah or Sebastian or Sugar went, really. He was pretty used to it.

The tapping on the stack of books below grew more insistent. Why were his important innermost thoughts being ignored. Yoshiro wouldn't make him suffer through this indignity. Maybe an entirely different indignity. Finally he adopted a contrite frown, because even if it looked otherwise, keeping his face blank didn't require any conscious effort and when he thought of a sad thing he was going to look pretty damn sad. He looked about as sad as someone who lost his two best friends at the same time. Apparently that was a popular social ill right now.