Misaki and Masking grow up on me so much since the last time i made the Garupa Sorter, i see 👀

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HELP ME HDKSHFKSJDJD MASUKI- MISAKI- KOKORO- PAREO- REI- HAGUMI- KAORU- ROKKA- CHU- KANON- WHY DID ALL OF YOU HAVE TK BE SO PERFECT HDJSHHHHHHJDKSHFB ISTG IM GONNA LOSE IT

i made a 4-koma based off of the fantasy PareChu i posted here the other day!

the 4-koma style is something i've wanted to try out since a LOONG time. it still has parts that definitely have my style influenced in them but overall working on this was fun c: there's also a liddle 1minute video of the drawing process on my twitter right here

so I've been getting into IDOLiSH7 recently and this is one of my main takeaways from it

POV: Your best girl robs you at gunpoint… or, something like that.

So you’ve been well on your way for some minutes now on your shortcut to make it home. The alleyways on this side of town aren’t the stuff of nightmares, but it seems like the city executives squeeze all of the city's lack of effort into spaces like these. Trash everywhere, rats all about one’s feet—the works. You just hold your breath whenever you can and think about your family whenever you can’t.

About halfway through your third alleyway, a young girl with raven hair that flows without end emerges from a dumpster. Her eyes are so deep in their violetisms that you find your legs capable of little besides keeping you upright.

It's... it's your Best Girl, Rinko Shirokane.

“D-don’t… move, please…” Comes her words that you must strain to catch. “I don’t want… t-to hurt you, b-but……”

She removes her hands from behind her back to reveal that she is holding a rubber toy hammer. It glistens in the darkness and you feel all of your color leaving your body. Haven’t toy hammers been outlawed? Such dangerous weaponry is—

“G-give me, um…” You watch her as her eyes drift off, and she seems unable to hold prolonged visual contact, if any at all. “All of…. your money, p-please…”

Surely this young girl is as scared of you, as you are of her. She may not expect a surprise. Steeling yourself, you turn on your heels and make for a mad sprint.

Which seems to be working, until you hear thundering footsteps from behind. You look back and despite your head-start, the young girl is upon you.

She smashes her toy hammer into the back of your left leg, and immediately you feel the bones there shattering into an irreparable mess. A cry, muddled by gurgling from shock, escapes your lips as you collapse onto the alleyway floor.

The young girl stands over you. “I-I, um……” She looks away again, folding her arms behind her back and tilting her head a little. You can see the head of the bloodied hammer peeking out over her shoulder. “T-told you not… to m-move…”

You begin crawling away, despite knowing it’s no use. She walks after you and smashes your other leg with the toy hammer. Rolling onto your stomach in an automatic response to the agony, you realize your legs have been crumpled and bent beyond recognition.

You’re phasing in and out of consciousness as she kneels down near you. “P-please give me…. your debit card t-too, and… any c-credit c-cards that… you have…”

You have taken too long to respond, as she is now rummaging through your Gucci purse. “N-nice purse, I… I think I’ll, um…. Take it, like… Y-yoink,” comes her self-produced sound effect, as she hoists your purse strap around her shoulder.

A seemingly brief moment of blackness is broken up by the sensation of your noise being pinched. It’s the young girl, leaning even closer now while still gazing elsewhere.

“W-what’s your… um… social s-security number…?” You beg her to leave you in peace, but she holds the toy hammer above your head.

Your eyes turn to the size of marbles and you plead even more, but she only does that maddening head tilt once more. “U-um, if you know… what’s g-good for you, then…. Er….”

In fear of her retaliation, you tell her. In fact, in your rabid fear, you tell her all of your social media logins, your bank account password, and even, to your greatest shame, the Krabby Patty secret formula.

“T-thank you… have a g-good day, I’ll call…. for an ambulance…” And off she runs;

the last thing you hear is hear is her boots along the ground and the distant jingling of your Gucci purse, before you fall into what feels like a fuzzy slumber.

Hhhhh I’m sorry but I’m well and truly on a Roselia kick rn and LOOK idk what happened either at some point in the last couple years I got overwhelmed by all the content pouring out of this franchise and neglected even my 2nd favourite band so now it’s all hitting me at once. This is me making up for not loving them enough bc it’s honestly been a While since I felt this much love for them what the heck. Actually maybe I’ve never loved them this much before oh god

So idk I got rly nostalgic and was looking through the playlist of live vids on the official YT channel and it struck me that of course the old Roselia ones wouldn’t be there anymore since they don’t reflect the current members and it just ugh. 2021 and I’m sitting here being sad about Yurishii and Akeshan again

Also while I’m here I can’t believe “Roselia’s music is good but doesn’t make me feel much” is a thing past me said bc now there is no song in Bandori’s entire discography that makes me cry more than Song I am. Past me simply did not know better smh

So um. Hi I’m Cay and I’m once again in a puddle of tears over Roselia’s existence

joining the edit bandwagon :3c

template!!!

I WANT IT THAT WAY

"Little Sisters Are Hard Work"

“What’s she even doing up this late…?” Tomoe mumbles to herself, wrapping her fists against Ako’s bedroom door. All she hears is laughter of a rising and falling pitch.

“Ako, I’m respecting your privacy by knocking, but asserting my authority by coming in anyway—oh, I should’ve brought my battering ram… hm.” Tomoe slaps Ako’s door. The entire frame goes careening into Ako’s room, causing the ceiling to cave-in over her bed.

“Ako, what are you up to?” Tomoe asks, crushing debris beneath her feet while entering the room.

“Help me, Mr. Red Strawberry… it looks like all of my life savings are gone… oh no, teehee…” Ako screeches with glee as she types away on a keyboard, hunched at her computer desk.

“Ako?” Tomoe places a hand on Ako’s shoulder, peering at the very same computer screen.

“O-Onee-chan!” Ako jumps and smothers the screen with her hands. Even so, the outer frame of a man—in a strawberry costume that reveals only his head, hands, and feet—can be seen dancing around.

“Ako, it’s too late. I can still see the donation message. Why did you give your life savings away to this guy, some… some random strawberry?”

“I’m sorry, onee-chan…” Ako hangs her head in shame. “It’s Mr. Red Strawberry, he’s… he’s a red strawberry who dances while streaming and… I just wanted to see him thrive, but now…” Her eyes well with tears.

“It’s okay, Ako. But you know what happens next.”

Tomoe pats Ako on the hand before picking Ako up over her shoulder. She walks over to Ako’s closet and opens it, where a swirling abyss of saturated purple rages. A thousand tormented wails spill out from within, and stray bolts of lightning miss Tomoe by a hair.

Tomoe throws Ako inside and closes the closet, dusting her hands off.

“That’s the fifth one to malfunction this month... huh. Well, the backup unit should be here sooner or later, I guess.” Tomoe slaps the caved-in ceiling off of Ako’s bed, upon which she then sleeps for the night.

help