#badknifedad

You would think he’d learn from the past whenever he walked down the alleyway. NO matter how quick it was to get to the other side and no matter how sometimes Klaus would like to avoid the crowd (Too much people in one place really does a number on him), he should’ve just...geez, suck it up and get through it. This would be the fourth time this happened. Where he walked by himself through the dark alleys and then some guys thinking it would be fun to mess with someone who looked...well who looked like Klaus. Never mind the fact he has a sword by his side, but never withdrawn even when he was surrounded by the 3. 3 against 1. It’s always that way, isn’t it? They always FEEL the need to gang up on people. 

“I’m not looking to fight. I just want to get through.” It’s as if he’s told the funniest joke because all three of them are just LAUGHING like hyenas, really. 

“Please.” Klaus says one last time. He won’t let them strike. He won’t let them get the upper hand and even though he really doesn’t want to fight, if it’s a fight they want then it’s a fight they will get. 

“Get him. And Hold him still for me. You’re gonna be my new punching bag.” 

It really is because of what he looks like, right? Tired, lanky almost. Klaus looks like he’d fly away with the gentlest of winds, probably. Maybe that’s why he’s such an easy target. The fact he takes a step back when two of the guys approaches him just gives them more confident.

I’m so tired.

Coming to the university was basically a given. Barry has to know the sorts of things they study on this plane, and what better place to find it than in a school? (Well, a lot of places. But it’s often a decent starting point.)

Right now, though, he’s doing exactly none of that productive stuff. He is, instead, in the near-empty university cafeteria (it’s not meal hours), with the public use microwave turned on its back, pouring a tenth bag of marshmallows into it. The microwave looks nearly full to the brim, now.

When he hears someone passing behind him, he starts talking before he’s even turned all the way around to face them.

Originally, Link came into the cafe to see if they had any Lon Lon Milk (though he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to pay, what with his Rupees gone missing and all), but as it was on his stops to Mama’s Cafe between his trips for the elements, he couldn’t help but become invested in the lives of the townspeople.

The wooden figures this person was carving weren’t quite like the figurines Carlov made, but there’s a certain level of craftsmanship that Link and Ezlo both appreciate.

Link watches quietly as the man works. A number of questions pop into his head, but he waits until he acknowledges Link before he voices any of them.

Ezlo, from the top of Link’s head, cranes his neck to the side to look at the knife. Is he using wood to carve wood figurines? If so, he wonders if he has other tools.

“Have you seen the dog?” 

“It’s got a human face.” 

“We know it’s here and we’re gonna find it tonight!”

“No. You’re wasting your time on something fake,” Akira said dismissively, stepping around the one that collided with him. They shouted a few arguments at him, but quickly returned to their vigorous search in the opposite direction.

Having said that, he wasn’t so convinced after they were gone. Ami had told him once about talking with a human-faced dog, and she didn’t lie for fun. Well, wouldn’t kill him to keep walking around here like he’d planned...

He hit the pavement, hands in his pockets and hood over his head. A little while later, he turned to look in an alley and stopped his gaze on someone else. An old man like that did look like the type that would find himself back here at this time of day. Of course, Akira did too.

“Yo, Jacket. Run into anything strange around here?”

Night hunts weren’t a necessity here. Jiang Cheng had determined this early enough on. Not that there weren’t creatures or demonic beasts to be hunted, but they weren’t a danger, as far as he could tell. His cautions still had him patrolling the bamboo forests after the sun went down.

A strange noise caught his attention. A sort of moaning, groaning noise. He pushed through the bamboo carefully, wooden sword in hand and ready for danger. What he found was...

...a drunk. Splayed across a bench. Jiang Cheng barely contained a disappointed noise. He set his sword down on the ground near a small puddle. The water was cool as he dipped his hands in. In cupped palms, he brought it over to the drunk man and threw it on the stranger’s face.

Moonlight Aesthetic Starters (NOT ACCEPTING)

@badknifedad sent: 🥃

My muse finds your muse in a bar, late at night.

“ What? “

He’s looking at the guy who’s giving his drink an ugly look like there’s something off with it. Frown and all... Or maybe he’s just looking the bandage... or just had a couple too many. Guesses only take you so far so Ogata just goes straight to business. 

△┊@badknifedad​     [ valentines day sentence starters ]      ❝ have you ever seen someone fall head over heels in love? it’s ugly, bro. ❞

      ❝  i have. ❞  the girls at the eden club replay through his mind vividly, albeit glitchy and broken, his gun trained on their frames of androids with locked hands. hank’s voice followed in memory, perfectly, just as he registered the first time. “they really seemed. . . in love.“

     connor didn’t understand love, not completely. he was trying to understand it. he understood fear. he understood compassion. he understood pain and sacrifice. he understood guilt. he had yet to understand love. it was so much more complex than he had once thought, so much more than chemicals firing through the human brain. those girls, hands entwined, fighting to be free together, made connor feel something. a feeling stopped him from shooting them. an error. they sacrificed everything just to be together. they could have died. he could have killed them. he almost killed them. he knows love means you would risk everything for someone, that their life was more important than yours, that they light up your world like the first taste of deviancy—and that was scary. 

     he wishes he had asked markus to explain it. he wished he was here. he would know how to describe love. he saw the same look in markus’ eyes as those girls when he touched north’s hand or held simon close, a familal version of the glow in his gaze as he spoke softly to carl. he always spoke so eloquently, with no judgement or hesitation—it’s hard to believe that he and connor are part of the same series sometimes, but he understands connor on another level. perhaps a level he doesn’t understand himself.