Nanamigooner - Soph 🫧

Aib as cat owners part 1: the garden cats

Mira Kano was the kind of woman who wore secrets like perfume. Calm, composed, with a permanent knowing smile curling at the edge of her lips, she carried herself like someone who had already unraveled the mysteries of the universe—but found them vaguely amusing.

Dressed in her usual black—silky dress brushing her ankles, gloves snug on her hands—she stood at the window of their apartment, watching the clouds drift like idle thoughts. Her long black hair fell down her back like a shadow that had grown attached. She turned with sudden purpose, her smile deepening.

“I’ve decided,” she announced.

Kuzuryu Keiichi, sitting at their dining table, didn't look up from the legal document in front of him. His neatly pressed suit clung to his straight-backed posture, glasses reflecting the afternoon light. His brown hair was immaculately combed, of course. Mira often teased him that even in sleep, he looked ready to scold a witness.

“We’re getting a cat,” she said, and then, after a pause, with that theatrical spark in her eyes, “or two.”

He blinked slowly, still focused on the paper.

“No.”

Mira walked over, leaned in close, her voice soft and lilting. “But imagine… tiny paws pattering across the floors. Eyes like moons. Creatures who see into your soul.”

Keiichi glanced at her. “That sounds terrifying.”

She pouted, which for Mira meant slightly widening her smile and letting her eyes glisten dramatically.

He sighed.

“Mira…”

“Please?”

“…Fine. But just to be clear—I won’t scoop anything. At all.”

Victory shining in her eyes, she clapped her gloved hands. “Deal.”

They had no plan. No breed preference, no carrier, not even snacks. They simply wandered into a garden Mira “felt drawn to.” It was overgrown, a secret tucked behind crumbling stone walls and flowering vines. The air smelled of mint and old stories.

And there, sunning themselves on a patch of warm stone, were two cats.

The first, a sleek black female, was elegance incarnate. Her coat shimmered like polished obsidian. Her yellow eyes met Mira’s, and something ancient passed between them.

Mira knelt, breath held. “She’s perfect.”

The second cat was scruffier—a brown male with tufts of fur sticking out at odd angles. He looked like he'd been in a few alley fights and probably won most of them. When he moved closer to the black cat, his demeanor softened. He licked her ear once, then curled beside her like he’d always belonged there.

Keiichi, inexplicably moved, muttered, “…They’re in love.”

“They’re strays,” Mira whispered, her voice fierce with gentle fire. “They need us.”

“No,” he said. “No, no, no—”

She was already scooping the black cat into her arms, pressing her cheek to its head. The cat purred instantly.

Keiichi sighed.

The brown cat nudged his shoe and meowed once. Judging him.

“Fine,” he said again. “But we are not naming them something ridiculous.”

By the end of the week, the two cats—Midnight and Mochi—had made themselves at home. Midnight slept on Mira’s lap during long reading nights, while Mochi often occupied Keiichi’s side of the bed, despite the judge’s grumbling.

And sometimes, when Mira looked at them cuddled together on the windowsill, she smiled in that unreadable way of hers—like she'd solved another riddle in the human heart. Like everything had gone according to plan.

Because, of course, it had.

do you like the stars? ✧.*

WHO DAT IN THE BAAAACK

awase and rin?

Do you like this ship?

Bingo at the match factory - Bandaimon

A/N: Been meaning to write a fic about these silly Billy’s! I adore side games and ten of clubs is def one of my faves so I did this!

The clamor of fireworks cracked like gunshots above the city, but in the cracked-tile silence of the subway bathroom, Sunato Banda didn't flinch.

He had escaped. After rotting in that cell for years, betrayed by the very world he once smiled with—he was free. The laughter slipped out of him like smoke, low and sharp. No guards. No sirens. No one. Just the fizz and pop of distant celebration and the hiss of broken pipes.

He made his way to his old apartment, a crumbling tenement that hadn’t changed. No one had claimed it. The world had tried to erase Sunato Banda, but it had failed.

He swapped out the prison uniform for a soft denim button-up and worn jeans. They smelled like dust and memories. He stood in the half-light, soaking in the feel of freedom when the old television in the corner flickered on. Static danced. Then—an arrow. A word.

"Game."

A smirk tugged at his mouth. The screen blinked again, showing coordinates. Curiosity lured him more than logic ever could.

He followed.

The match factory loomed like a forgotten cathedral, broken windows and brick dusted in moonlight. Inside, cold silence. But he wasn’t alone.

She was there.

Daimon Hinako. Red hair like flame. Blazer sharp enough to draw blood. She still had that loan shark swagger, but her eyes were colder now.

The last time he saw her, she was filing divorce papers after discovering the truth: that her husband had a thing for murder. Four women. Maybe more.

“Daimon,” he whispered.

She didn’t answer.

A third girl—young, too young for this—stood by them. Ten others in total. All strangers. All here for the same reason: the screen had called.

The game explained itself with a robotic monotone that made Banda’s skin tingle.

"Difficulty: 10 of Clubs. Game: Bingo at the Match Factory."

Rules:

Twenty-five rooms in a 5×5 grid.

Each room, except the center, hides a number.

Find numbers. Complete a bingo.

Each player has nine matches.

The factory is in complete darkness.

Run out of matches… Game Over.

"Game Over" meant lasers.

"Game Clear" only occurs when a full row, column, or diagonal is completed by the group.

Banda chuckled again. A death game. Of course. This world always had a twisted sense of humor.

The factory swallowed them in shadow. The first match flared—light like a gasp. A number scratched onto a wall: G-47.

Each step was a gamble. Rooms twisted like labyrinths. Shadows whispered. Two players used all their matches too fast. The scream came first. Then the burn. A flash of red, then silence.

It wasn’t a game for the anxious. Banda moved slow. Precise. He watched others waste flame on nothing. But Daimon—sharp as ever—counted her steps, rationed her fire, memorized the grid like she memorized debts.

Together, with the girl who barely said a word, they worked. Tension thick like oil, but they survived.

Game Clear.

Three remained.

Seven did not.

Outside, the moon hung low. Daimon didn’t look at Banda—just walked past him, her pace sharp, as if standing near him was poison.

“Daimon—” he called, “I kept thinking about you, you know. In that cell.”

She didn’t stop. Just raised her hand in a half-wave, half-warning.

“You’re not the only one who’s obsessed,” he whispered after her.

She thought she could avoid him.

But Banda knew the game wasn’t over. Not even close.

And they’d see each other again— much sooner than she thought.

my incredibly based and correct opinion on what the thanos squad (+ mi-na) would get from a convenience store

included mi-na mostly because i could just feel it in my left nut what she’d get.

guys i deadass was gonna make an “i hate sangihun” april fools post but it actually pains me too much to do so 💔💔

i love them so fucking much 😭

If I was Arisu I'd be looking down somewhere else

jiji making a dab in the middle of 2024🔥🔥🔥🔥truly a genius.

Looking into the camera like I pissed them off????