Lumni-chan - Ambra - Chan

nobody talks about how chapter one is basically a messy first date between you and the reader

How could we not talk about family when family is all we got

A Umbrella academy and Bungo stray dogs crossover.

Chapter 1 WIP!

“We announce with immense sorrow the death of Reginald Hargreeves, found dead in his bed in the early hours of this morning.”

Reginald Hargreeves, billionaire, adventurer and inventor, died of heart failure on March 21, 2019.

His adopted children, once known as the child heroes of the Umbrella Academy, learned of this in different situations and from different parts of the world (and the solar system)

Luther, number 1, received the news from Pogo, while he was on the moon.

Diego, number 2, found out about it from the television of a house where he was "arresting" some thieves.

Allison, number 3, found out from the reporters, blinded by their cameras and dazed by their questions.

Vanya, number 7, found out about it when he saw the news on a TV in the window on her way home.

They were all shocked, in a mixture of joy, sadness and even anger. It was a feeling that only the four of them, the survivors, thought they were capable of feeling.

But there was a person in Yokohama who felt similar emotions.

Number 4, once Klaus Hargreeves, but now known as Dazai Osamu, received the news leaning on his desk at the Armed Detective Agency, while chatting with his husband, surrounded by colleagues who for years now he had considered his real family.

-Come on chibi, I only gave him some candy, it's not the end of the world!- -Isn't it the end of the world? Our son just locked Higuchi in the closet and is now running around a house full of sharp and dangerous objects, just because you gave him enough sugar to make him go on a hyperactive rampage!-

-He's not wrong, it's your fault.- Dazai turned to his brother, who was relaxing on Kunikida's desk

-Shut up Ben! And you better get off your desk before Kunikida-kun comes back and tries to kill you again.- The ghost stuck its tongue out at him -This would only happen if I made myself tangible-

Osamu decided to ignore his annoying brother and dedicate to his annoying husband - Don't worry Chuuya! I will send Atsushi to free Higuchi and stop Kazuya!- As he spoke these words, Kunikida entered the room, and Dazai knew something wasn't right.

The blond didn't scold him for not working, instead he approached him and handed him a newspaper. -I swear that if it's about the incident the other week, I don't know how it ended up in the newspapers- Ben rolled his eyes and got off the desk to look at the newspaper.

Kunikida instead pushed the newspaper to his chest, and Dazai noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. -You better be one of the first to know.-

-Well, it must seriously be something important if…- He stopped when he saw the headline on the front page:

Reginald Hargreeves is dead

He barely heard Ben next to him freeze and some members of the agency approaching curiously. He could only hear the sentence inside his head, over and over: Is dead. Is dead. Is dead. I'm free. I'm free. He can't take me back there anymore. I'm safe.

It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a fear so unconscious he hadn't noticed it in years. And now he no longer had to worry about that creeping possibility, he would never return to the mausoleum, ever again.

-Osamu, are you okay?- He was so relieved that he didn't even realize he had made Ben tangible. His brother had put a hand on his shoulder and was looking at him worriedly.

-Never been better Benny-boy!- He smiled and took the phone from the ghost's hand, who probably took it to warn Chuuya.

The said person was still demanding information when the husband put the phone to his ear -Osamu, what the hell is going on? Ben told me to look for a newspaper and..-

-Reggie is dead!- He said it in a cheerful tone, intoxicated by that sense of freedom. There was silence on the other end of the line as Chuuya processed the information.

Just as he had done with the agency, at a certain point in his life Dazai had told him about who he was before Yokohama, about when he was Klaus Hargreeves, about his brothers and also about the mausoleum.

Hello🤗❤️

I hope you are well🌹

Can you help me get my voice heard

and share my family's story?🙏🏻

Can you Donate 5$ to me or Reblog my post from my blog?

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I apologize for what I am going to say to you, but I have to. I am Ahmed from Gaza, married with two children. We live in the shadow of war and destruction. I lost my brother, my home, and most of my relatives. We have nothing left. I ask you to help, even a little, so that we can survive and protect my children. Any amount, even a small amount, will save our lives.

Link in bio

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Currently working on this.

Let's hope the iperfixation stay long enough to let me finish to write

Hear me out: AU where the umbrella academy doesn't get erased from the new timeline but get reincarnated in Yokohama in the BSD world.

Chewing and gnawing on the irony One Piece continually shows with the main characters where they're doing objectively kind and helpful things and that's what gets them in trouble with the law. It's the selective application of criminal justice. The bias and room for corruption built into the system itself. It's delicious. It's horribly relevant. I'm obsessed.

Link of the chapter 120.5

mangapark.io

Bungo Stray Dogs - Vol.0 Ch.120.5 - Share Any Manga on MangaPark

Bungo Stray Dogs, 文豪ストレイドッグス, Bungou Stray Dogs, Young Ace, Kafka Asagiri, 朝霧 カフカ, Harukawa35, 春河35, Sango Harukawa, action, supernatural, s

On Christmas Day of 2018, I received a paperback copy of George Orwell's 1984. I was 12 years old.

I remember the adults - aunts and uncles, parents, grandparents, looking at me cautiously, as if they had handed me a live bomb rather than a book. "That's a very intense book, okay?" my father told me. "If you want, we can talk about it after you read it." 12-year-old me, with only a dim idea of what fascism actually was and an insatiable appetite for books, only nodded.

While my younger cousins and sister played with their new toys, I sat on the couch and read the book in one sitting. When I finished, I looked up to see the adults staring at me with a strange sort of fascination. "Do you want to talk about it?" my father asked.

"No." I shrugged and turned away.

The truth was, I had been expecting a happy ending. Winston Smith was the good guy, wasn't he? Why didn't he win? Evil governments always lost in the end, didn't they? How could Winston have been brainwashed into believing such an evil, awful dictatorship was truly great? After all, when my middle school history teachers talked about dictatorships, those of Hitler and Stalin, it was obvious that they were the worst of the worst. No one actually agreed with them, did they?

Then I remembered my fourth grade class talking about the upcoming election, laughing about how obviously stupid Trump's wall idea was, and how strange it felt to hear someone say Clinton was worse. I don't remember his reasoning, but I distinctly remember thinking it was dumb because what could be dumber than a giant wall around Mexico? I remembered my grandmother arguing against vaccinating children, and I remembered flat Earthers I had seen online. That day was the first time it clicked for me: people believe what they want to believe.

The years passed. I read 1984 again, and again, and again. I watched as Trump shut down the government for sake of a temper tantrum, as he was impeached, as he told Americans to object bleach, as he politicized a pandemic and let thousands die. I didn't know about his SA scandals. I didn't know he had called Mexicans "thieves and rapists." I just knew he could not be allowed to be president again.

Yet, when 2020 rolled around, I was only 14 years old and could not vote. I settled for watching anxiously as the votes came in - I didn't know much about Joe Biden, but he was clearly a better alternative. He actually believed the COVID-19 pandemic was real, for one. So I sighed in relief as the results came through four days later: Joe Biden had been elected president of the United States.

I kept watching. I watched as Trump incited insurrection, as terrorists stormed the Capitol. I stared in horror at the TV. How could this have happened? How were so many people so delusional?

In December 2021, for my sophomore year English class, I read 1984 again. I thought of January 6th.

My classmates thought it boring, confusing, stupid. It didn't make sense. What did it matter? Who cared whether or not we knew the significance of the character of O'Brien?

I kept watching. The summer before my junior year of high school, just before I entered a relationship with my now-partner, Roe v. Wade was overturned, and I felt a sinking pit in my stomach. Six months later, a friend of mine read 1984 for that same English class, and he loved it - we had a few intense study hall discussions about the nature of doublespeak, of totalitarianism, of a surveillance state. My partner agreed, reading it with a terrified fascination.

I kept watching. I realized I was nonbinary, and I watched in horror as the Republican Party made their creeping advances to eradicate trans rights. Idly, I reread 1984. What the right wanted did seem a lot like Oceania's government, didn't it? I wondered if I'd ever be able to marry my partner, who, despite also being trans, was still the same sex as me. If Trump ran again, he'd probably win, and then what would we do?

Then, 2024. Trump won the primaries in a landslide. I turned 18 and registered to vote. In the meantime, I skimmed Project 2025's bits about banning pornography and thought of 1984 and its carefully curated sexless society, created to achieve perfect complacency. I went off to college and voted absentee, carefully bubbling in the circle next to Vice President Kamala Harris's name. I woke up on Wednesday, November 6th to see Trump had won the presidency.

It has been one week. Again, I watch as Trump proposes a Department of Government Efficiency, which sounds euphemistically horrific. I watch as he suggests Musk to head it, a man known for being as inefficient as possible. I think of the Ministry of Truth and how its entire purpose was to disseminate lies. I watch as people celebrate, mocking me and many others who had desperately voted against a fascist, a rapist, a convicted criminal, a man who would kill us and spit on our graves if he was elected to office. I think of Parsons and duckspeak, the practice of simply spitting out the "correct" propaganda the same way a duck quacked. People really did believe what they wanted to believe, didn't they? I realize Trump won because, deep down, people hated minorities more than they loved democracy.

I hope my loved ones and I will survive another Trump presidency. I hope those in Gaza and Ukraine will survive it too, along with so many others - Jews, POC, immigrants, students, disabled, Muslims. At the very least, I hope to live long enough to watch as the bigots are forced to eat their own words and come to terms with the fact they gleefully voted in their own downfall.

At the end of the day, 1984 taught me something I could not have comprehended at age 12, 14, 15, or 16, but can understand now: democracy dies not with a bang, but with a whimper.

So, you're telling me that I waited two months just to have to see the damn rat traumatizing more the poor sushi?

I love it

A self indulgent Koala redesign :)

Going for something cute that has the ability to look normal among mid to upper class civilians in case she needs to mingle with nobles, but just a bit more militaristic and practical for fighting! Thinking of doing a layer by layer breakdown for her outfit as well