too much sharpening


it seems fate will not allow me to kill myself. you all came to stop me. no mater how i try to wipe it away, your love continues to cling to me. i love this world too much to die and leave it behind.


Voltage Oresamas and Dogs

a.k.a. Poor Eisuke *

* See Kissed by the Baddest Bidder Love Trap (GREE) for a happier ending to Eisuke’s unrequited love

lagom | travlyn

title: lagom

summary: he asked. she agreed. Travlyn. MCD s3.

a/n: SO. This is highkey born out of the need to write a fic about travlyn??? And this came to mind! I always always yell about the Guard academy hosting Balls (like to fund the academy? Because there’s no central government, so they must generate money somehow without hindering the alliance’s economy), so what if this fic might be a two-parter; I wanted to write them dancing but gotten side tracked lol.Also yes, Travis and Katelyn live together as roommates /eyes emoji I mean the dude been living on a mountain and she could use a roomie lmfao

warning(s): eye emojis they flirt, sweet talk




Lagom (n.) not too little, not too much. Just right.




She bit her tongue, averting her eyes as a laugh wanted to bubble up. But alas, even the futile attempt to save feelings and covering her mouth, Travis caught her smile.

Which was fair, because he must know how ridiculous he look.

“I can explain,” he cracked out, the sharp pitch being the last thing to break down the dam.

Keep reading


There was a man who held a power too great to tame or control.

He shunned the world. The world shunned him.

(Who knows who turned away first.)

Another man who held the same power forced his way. He was strong, assured, experienced. He became a beacon of hope and light, and offered his guiding hand. An alternative.

(A haven.)

He was safe. The world was safe, from him.

He was “normal.” He was no longer dangerous, and could even be proud of his ability, as long as he did what the president said. As long as he had his charm.

People stayed away. He kept them away. He kept his distance as a near physical separation slotted between.

(A physical shield. A bubble, an enclosed space. He never left. It never left his grip. A tiny world where everything was fine and good.)

It wasn’t lonely.

(He was safe. Everyone was safe.)

A boy came along. Small, quiet, plain - nothing like the president. He was more like him, he thought, and felt pity for the boy.

The boy tore the umbrella from his grasp.

Briefly, the world shattered. It shattered and everything was wrong and dangerous and unstable, he couldn’t find a balance and everything he felt sharpened too much, too fast -

He got his safety back. It wasn’t nice to do that, he told the boy, because he had to be understanding. The boy was only a child.

(He was not afraid.)

The boy stared, his eyes holding the immeasurable depth of black holes, empty but all-encompassing. He lifted his hand, and the man tightened his grip on his charm.

The boy did not reach for it. Instead, he splayed his hands palm up, eyes directed upwards -

There is no rain.


The umbrella was left in the wreckage, torn and broken by the hands that gifted it.


The conflict ended with Kageyama Shigeo the victor. A close call, but a victory nonetheless, as Claw had dispersed with their leader having given himself up to the police.

I never saw you as anything beyond a useful tool,” Suzuki said as he was taken away. “You don’t need to feel guilty.


Katsuya looks down at his suit, from the smoothed fabric of his jacket to the ironed white button-up beneath. He can hear the lilting quality of Reigen’s voice accompanied by the quiet monotone of Kageyama’s, and mingled tones of others he just barely recognizes.

He takes a breath, and reaches for the door.

There wasn’t enough room for everyone under that umbrella, anyway.