#krbk#bkkr
Kirishima came across the photo album while tidying up the study.
It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, sunlight filtering through the leaves outside and spilling in soft, shifting patches across the floor. He had only meant to flip through a page or two, but somewhere
ᯓ𝄞 ˎˊ˗ Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call - Bleachers. #KRBK#BKKR
Eijiro had stopped expecting Katsuki's calls, after all, that was the point, wasn't it? You stopped expecting something long enough, and eventually your heart learned not to jump whenever your phone lit up. +
2026 HoyoFair의 <낮과 밤의 괴담 (Hyakki Yagyo)>에 작곡과 작사 그리고 보컬로 참여했습니다.
좋은 작품을 만들어가는 과정에 함께할 수 있어 정말 뜻깊었습니다.
곡 제작에 도움 주신 ddim님, KANG PD님을 비롯한 모든 분들께 감사드립니다.
뮤직비디오도 정말 멋지게 완성되어 기쁘고,
많은 분들의 기억에 오래 남는 작품이 되었으면 좋겠습니다.
많은 관심 부탁드립니다.
https://t.co/2qOJTMn3Dm
Crying.
Crying isn’t as easy as people make it out to be. Not for someone like him. Always in the spotlight, always having to be admired, always criticized. But always ready to give smiles, even if they were as fake as plastic melting in the sun.
And ever since he was a kid, he heard:“You’re the strongest. Act like it.”
“What the hell does that even mean? Is there a formula? Could someone show me the fucking manual?” he thought as he looked at them, expressionless. No one would answer because he’d never dare to talk about it.
“I’m surrounded by idiots” he muttered to himself as he left the high command room.
He walked aimlessly through the academy, trying to play with the stones in his path. Deactivate, kick. Attract, activate, repel. He smiled, remembering Suguru’s antics when he playfully threw the same stones at his shins.
“ What’s your problem, Satoru? How old are you?” he said, picking up the stone with his hand.
“Just a few months older than you”. He laughed, activating his technique to repel the little rock that Suguru had thrown at him.
“If you wanna play basketball, let’s go to the gym. Or are you afraid of losing?”
“Someone woke up feeling insecure”, he replied, sarcastically.
“I know my worth”, he said with a flirty wink.
Of course, Satoru melted at that. Was there anything more attractive than Suguru on his good days? The answer was a definite no. On those days, his amber eyes shone brighter, his hair fell more gracefully, and his voice was as soft as the feathers of the herons that perched by the lagoon where they used to relax.
Satoru never had better moments than those with him, in that place. His head resting on his legs, his fingers playing with his hair, and the sun's rays reflecting off his masculine profile. The view was perfect, and no one had any reason to cry.
Until the bad days started to outnumber the good ones.
On his bad days, Suguru cried. A lot. And Satoru couldn’t be there for him. He didn’t really understand how serious it was. He hadn’t seen him bury his head in the pillow and sob until his body gave out, until his soul, slowly turning black, decided to rest to the rhythm of deep sighs. No, Suguru wouldn’t do that in front of him.
If he had seen it, would he have been able to be there for him? A question that whipped him like a lash, over and over again, after that horrible day in September.
Could his beloved curse manipulator be saved? And if there was comfort for his pain, was it him?
“Crying is for the weak,” that’s what he had always internalized. But the truth is, he wasn’t good at it. His first tears were suppressed, and the few that followed never had an audience.
If crying was for the weak, logic dictated that he should do the opposite. He was the strongest.
But Suguru was strong too. “Then why those dark circles? Why that pale complexion? Why does your hair fall dull on your shoulders?
Let me help you, my love.”
That’s what he should have said the times he noticed something different, when he saw that his smile was as forced as his own would be later.
“Fuck, how I miss you”, he said with a sigh as he sat where they used to sit together. He looked at the lagoon and felt the autumn breeze on his face. He smiled, remembering.
Because that’s all he had left. The ethereal feeling of having lived with him, of feeling a love so unbearable that it could only leave his body in ridiculously sweet or childish ways.
“The universe is billions of years old, and yet I was lucky enough to be born at the same time as you, Satoru”, he said on the last of the good days they shared.
His throat tightened, his breathing quickened, and his soul felt crushed. But he couldn’t cry. Crying was for the weak.
Yet, a stubborn little tear appeared in his right eye. Satoru tensed his whole body. That had never happened, and it never should. But Suguru, noticing the anguish that had taken over him, gently but firmly caught the tear on one of his fingers.
+
suguru has a picture of satoru that he's been carrying around with him since his first year at jjt. it's a stupid photo, really; satoru had been laughing hysterically at smth shoko had said and suguru had quietly snapped a picture of him. unlike the pictures on his dorm wall–
🧵fic
eijirou hates headaches.
he would accept any other temporary ache as his quirk’s side effect. stomach ache, joints pain, neck pain, whatever — instead, what he got stuck with are constant headaches and perpetual dry skin.
the dry skin is manageable. he’s learned a lot +
#sakuatsu#atsuomi | office coworkers
they can't stand eachother, but for very different reasons, atsumu thinks kiyoomi's position is due to nepotism, his mother is the ceo after all, while kiyoomi thinks atsumu is too arrogant and full of himself
✨ JAPAN CD RELEASE決定 ✨
JAPAN 1st Mini Album「六変化」
2026/11/11(水)発売💿
購入特典&リリイベ情報も解禁🎁
皆さま、ぜひチェックしてください!
▼ 詳細
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▼ PRE-ORDER
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#AKUGETSU#六変化
💍 Asking For a Hand. Your Hand Specifically. pleasepleasepleasepleeeease || #ivantill#ALNST
• 2.3k, rated T
• marriage proposal gone. uhm. slightly wrong
• established ivtiiv, fluff and comedy, they're pathetic truly
🔗 https://t.co/5xkYh6LgeX