Throughout the World, I've found my hearts.
Reblogged from menkomaster  56 notes


Saw this pointed out elsewhere.

Assclass alternate cover:


Lesson of the Evil promo poster:


High school teacher Seiji Hasumi is the most popular teacher at his school with an attractive smile. Yet, Seiji Hasumi is a psychopath. To solve some of his school’s problems, like bullying, and to protect himself, Seiji begins to kill his students one by one.” (from asianwiki)

Niceart Test Fic

Sample fic Hamatora
I’m planning to make a 6-7 chaptered fic but whether I will continue it or not depends on whether I will find proofreader/beta reader/grammar checker or not. In short…I need beta readerrrr
Please contact me if you’re interested to beta-ing this fic.

Warning: AU, gender bender, possibly contains spoilers, blood, implied depression, and a very massive OOC.  

——- ….. —Sample Fic— ….. ——-

“If the world is like a dream, don’t you think it will be very interesting?”  

Amongst the echo of bus engine, she heard a very familiar voice throw the question. The voice carried the tone which she hadn’t heard for a very long time.  

"Maybe. Though, it depends on the context of the dream." she answered flatly.  

The person chuckled hearing her and for a moment she felt herself want to grasp toward that person. The sense of longing drowned her to the point of painfully choking. It’s been so long since she heard that voice.  


"It must be nice to live in a dream" the person continue and rested their head on the bus window, looking outside. "…or maybe this world actually isn’t real and we all just the figment of somebody’s. A mirage."  

The bus moved at perpetual speed, passed expanse of land. The sunset ray which went through windows had casting an everchanging shadows on its blue drapped interior. The sound of the bus, scenery, shadow and light, it all blurred to one. She closed her eyes.  

It was warm.  

She sat at the far back seat of the bus, near the window where sunset seeped inside. There was a tingling warmth in the sunset behind her closed eyelids and also the momentary coldness from shadows which was caused by passing buildings. The person who sat beside her, her conversation partner, who had silver strands of hair and a bright smile with a face so similiar to hers, fell in silent.  

"But to live in a dream, to live in an alluring mirage is…to live in the world where’s things have no reality themselves." she said to the person, eyes still closed despite the moving scenery outside.  

"And you don’t like it?"  

"I don’t know." she rested her head on the window too. "And I wouldn’t know." since the world was real.  

and then-  


She was outside.  


The bus was in front of her, turned over. It was wrong, she thought. She was no longer inside it but instead sat outside. Something wasn’t right. She looked toward the ground only to met the vast grey color of the street. Her breath quickened. There were splotched of red, smears of red, on the ground.  


She sat on the ground, her arms hurt, and there was another red on it. A lot of red. On her arms, on her clothes, on her face, it felt hot. The slippery sense of the red on fingers, it smelt like copper and tang, and a faint burn.  


She wanted to gag at the smell alone but- the red still stick on her, seeped in, or was it out?. It wouldn’t come off. She rubbed her hands together. It wouldn’t come off. She started to scratched furiously. It wouldn’t, Never. Never. Never.  

Silver hair smeared in red.  


No, she didn’t, she didn’t-  

The sound of her phone had awakened Art.  

The cold surface of her office desk greeted her. It took minutes but the phone was finally quiet down. She slowly straightened from her slumped position on desk with vision which was still a little blurred but after a few blink she could dicern the name on phone. Nice. She looked toward her desk and contemplated whether she should calling back or not. A few paperworks still left unfinished. Art debated a little inside her mind about the paperworks and Nice. She gave up in the end. She would call back latter.  

The dream still remained though faintly.  

After putting the phone back in her pocket, it took her another few minutes to finally rose to her feet. She didn’t remember how she had fallen asleep. She had been…dreaming, hadn’t she? This was weird because when she tried to remember the details, nothing came out. Everything blurred and she only managed to catch a glimpse of it. Art sucked a shaky breath, almost choking when pain laced her chest.   What was the dream about?   A promise was waiting for her. She gulped and after a long moment of self encouragement, forced her legs to move. A very old promise, which she barely grasped, lingered at the back of her mind…-silver hair and a very warm smile…  

Work, Art steered her mind to her paperwork.   She need to get back to work and everything would turn back fine again.   Yes, everything was fine.  

It was alright.  


Drip, drip, drip, drip.  

"Is everything alright?"  

The sudden question startled Art. She turned her head toward Nice but didn’t immediately reply. They had eating at the Yokohama’s bay cafe and on the way back the sudden downpour forced them to seek shelter at the nearby overhang of a shop. At time like this, Art was really regreting not bringing her car but the walk had been nice and the P.I. looked more cheerful just with the two of them taking a walk after eating out.  

"I’m fine, Nice."  

"Really." Nice said with slow deliberate tone but thankfully, didn’t pressing up.  

Drip, drip, drip.  

They went back watching the rain. The previous comfortable silent turned awkward. She had try to smile just to lightened the mood but cringed in the end for it must looked so forced. The rain didn’t let up, in fact it looked worse than before and definitely turned colder. Art felt movement beside her and pressure against her shoulder. Nice had been leaning on her.  

"Art." Nice mumbled, his voice was close and Art needed to remember how to relax and breath regularly. Their proximity unnerve her for a reason she didn’t want to know. "This rain took forever. Let’s just run to your place."  

She took a deep breath before answering. “I…I don’t think it’s a good plan.”  

"I thought you like rain, Art?"  

Drip, drip, drip…  

Art furrowed her brow, watching the overhang of the shop and the pitter patter it provided from the rain. The grey cloud and chilly wind still showed no sign of stopping. Surely, in this weather, the surrounding temperature would  turn much lower than usual. But Nice was warm beside her and his voice definitely didn’t bring that sense of nostalgia and dread like the person in her dream.  

"I do like rain. But I prefers to stay out of freezing to death."  

Nice laughed. A laugh which made her chest constrict a little which she tried to dismis by bitting her bottom lip.  

"I won’t let you freeze to death…" there was a look of deep affection on his face which she notice ruefully. "…I promise."  


Art felt a painful stab.  

A knife had lodge deep in her heart.  

Drip, drip, drip…  

Red. A pool of red had formed across the tiles.  

"See? Now you won’t freeze to death."  

Her breaths were shallow. She felt a metallic taste with each breath, but choked them down, and when Art rose her head, only her heartbeat echoed in her ears, a steady rhythm which slowed down with each beat.  

…and then she saw nothing.  



Art opened her eyes and saw Nice’s face right in front of hers. A worry marred his feature and she felt guilty for spacing out.  

"Seriously, are you really alright? Should I call a doctor for you? Maybe Ratio?"  

"I’m fine, Nice. Just… I’m just tired okay? Please…" please for what, she didn’t know.  

Nice looked relucant but her insistence made him lose and they decided to just run past the rain. They all but dashed toward the rain then. Art grimaced. Truthfully, she disliked the feeling of water soaking her clothes but between stranded in front of a store and getting temporary wet, she like the relieved of her home more. As they arrived in front of her door faster than ever, she realized, when she fumbled with the lock, Nice just stood beside her, blue eyes caged with careful thought. But Art pretended not to know.  

A sigh escaped her when it opened and the warm of the place greeted them. She was a little bit bothered by the state of her general appearance. Water was dripping continuosly from her locks and she scrapped the wet hair back with her fingers. A sudden intake of breath took Art attention back to Nice.  

"Nice?" she lowered her fingers from where she tucked the hairs behind her ear.  

Nice stared but the Minimum holder immediately looked away when she tilted her head in confusion. Still, she could feel it from Nice, the careful caged thought. It’s suffocate her, bringing a coiling uncomfortable feeling from the pit of her stomatch.  

"It’s nothing." Nice finally said and stepped to the living room after putting his shoes, dripping and all.  

She frowned, hesitate to enter the premises. The atmosphere had turn strange. Art didn’t like it and just close the door as slowly as she could. Careful not to slam it but still standing without steeping to the living room.  



"Do you think this world is a dream?"

Art steeled her voice and finally asked Nice, a little bit scared toward Nice’s answer.

The dream, whatever it was, contains a very important things which she suspected will either revealed or buried forever depending on Nice’s answer. Why him though? She didn’t know herself.   Still standing in the living room, Nice looked toward her.  

“Why so sudden?” Nice walked back toward the front door, toward her, clothes still dripping. His slow steps made her alert.


“I’m just curious, Nice.”  

“This is reality, Art.”  

“But what if it’s actually isn’t? What if this is just a dream?”  

Nice looked at Art, standing several feet away from her with a look of tender amusement on his face, gleaming softly in his blue eyes. Faintly, very faintly, she could feel a hidden, held down, smouldering heat from those eyes. But outside, Nice only smiled at her and getting closer.


“Is there a problem with that? Who’s to say that dreams aren’t as real as the here and now?” the brunnete’s voice was low, near whisper but now they’re close enough for her to be able to hear it. And the hand on her cheek was warm. Nice was always warm and she envied him a little. “You’re real enough for me, Art.”


She close her eyes and exhaled in relieved. Warm breath ghosted back to her, mixed with anothers since Nice was leaning close to her, getting into her personal space. Too close. The heartbeat was real. The warmth was real. He’s real…and so did she.


Nice’s hand rose and his fingers ran through Art’s hair. From the top of her head and back to the side of her face until his fingers curled around her neck, near her carotid artery she noted, and his thumb rested on her cheek. Nice was dangerous, Art knew. In their position, he could end her right here right now in an instant but somehow he made her didn’t care. He placed his other hand over her cheek, smiling softly as his voice came out low and yet sounded loud to her with the smouldering gaze while she’s willingly expose her neck, letting his hand rested on her pulse, just so she could look up at his eyes.  

“Art…” They’re now only a breath away, close enough for her to be able to count his eyelashes and Nice showed no sign of stopping. “Art…”  

Art heard the sound of her phone and it’s waking her from her trance. She pushed her hand against his chest, forcing Nice away because if she didn’t, he would-. Stop. She stopped her train of thought at that, refusing to think what would happen next if she keep it at that.


“Stop it, Nice.” she didn’t know what she mean herself but she wanted it to stop.  

Whatever it was that had occured between them need to stop. Nice didn’t say anything but dutifully backed out and the strange atmosphere dispersed. For that, she was thankful.   Very thankful.  

But the uneasiness stayed, along with her fast beating heart which refuse to quiet down. In the end, she denied her’s own experiences and put a mask of lie and pretence.  

The Mask of Pretence

- Sample fic end? To be continue? Need beta reader/grammar checker/proof reader-  

“Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil.”

Reblogged from fabelyn  44 notes

To the one that made a deal with the Devil to get Art back…




…fuck you.

Remember kids: this is why we don’t make deals with the devil. Now Art is back but twisted -_-

Now someone will have to sell their soul for Nice to be ok

You’re right, I fucked up. I’m sorry. ; w ; It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Tsc, check the fine print in the contract for a loophole, or call the Winchesters, but quick before its too late!

Or try to sacrifice a virgin. Maybe it will null it