#Happy to finally write it for someone

[dira333]

Senpai - Komori x reader

for the Haikyuu Request Game - requested by @alienaiver

He heard the story, like everyone else.

That hotshot from Karasuno with the buzz head had managed to score the legendary beauty that was Karasuno’s third-year manager. 

Relationships between players and managers weren’t uncommon but as far as Komori knew, the girls were usually the ones that were younger.

But there he was, Tanaka Ryunosuke, the proof that exceptions confirm the rule.

If only Komori could have been as lucky, he thought, as you graduated and left the school.

-

He’s a first year and training camp is a terrible mix of consoling his cousin and trying not to fall behind.

He needs to prove his place on the court just as much as Kiyoomi but he needs to prove his place on the team a little bit more.

“Here, your water.” You smile as you hand out the bottles, golden sunlight casting a halo around you as you walk through the throng of people catching their breath.

He’s not been in love before, has merely fancied one girl over the other in Junior High.

But this, the rapid beating of his heart, the longing pull that starts behind his navel and steers him towards you, always towards you, this must be love.

-

“My girlfriend-” It’s not polite but Komori has learned to tone out Washio every time he starts a sentence like that.

“So, what do you think?” Washio’s grinning at him and Suna‘s smirking next to him like he knows exactly what’s going on but choosing to enjoy the show instead of helping.

“About what?” 

“What I just said.”

“I wasn’t li-” Komori interrupts himself by turning his head, still way too attuned to your sight. But could it really be?”

“Earth to Komori, are you listening?”

“You guys go ahead.” He grins and fears that it must look a little bit hysterical, “I just realized I urgently need a coffee before we watch that movie.”

“You’re right.” Suna’s voice drawls lazily as he eyes Komori, ever the instigator, “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. I’ll get you one. I know what you drink anyway. Go on, go ahead.”

-

“Is he okay?” You ask when Sakusa hides in the corner yet again.

The worry is visible on your face, painting shadows where none have been before.

He’s seen you cheerful, has seen you determined, but never worried like this. It creates a strange feeling in his chest, pulling him apart in two very distinct directions.

He wants to see more of this, wants to explore all there is to explore, see all the colors of emotion you can be painted in.

And he wants you to be never worried at all. Wants the shadows to disappear until you’re bathed in nothing but light.

Your hand is warm on his elbow as the two of you look over at Kiyoomi.

His voice is thick as he speaks but for a different reason than you must assume.

“He’s not good with crowds.”

“What can we do to help?”

That’s how he knows that he’s lost to this feeling.

Because in all your struggles, helping others has always come first.

-

By the time he makes it into the coffee shop he’d seen you walk in, he fears you might have already left again.

But there you are, waiting for your drink, still as beautiful as you’d been years ago.

“Senpai?” 

Oh god, he shouldn’t have called out to you like this, your name would have been way better, right?

But you look up and he cantell you recogniz him, pleasant surprise washing over your face.

“Komori-kun!” You smile. “What a surprise!”

“I just saw you walk past and had to say hi.” He tells you, feeling surprisingly shy all over again. You’ve always had that effect on him.

“What are you doing? Can I buy you a coffee?”

You laugh, taking your cup from the barista just as he utters the words. 

“That’s very sweet of you. I was just out shopping but I have some time, we could sit down and chat a bit if you want?”

He nods eagerly, following you to a table.

“What have you been up to, Senpai?” He asks, too happy about the fact you’re willing to spend your free time with him to care about anything at all.

-

You’re giggling at the back of the bus, heads stuck together over a movie playing on his phone. Kiyoomi is sleeping next to them, his curled-up body the reason you’d come back in the first place.

Talking to you has always been easy, the only Senpai he’s allowed to call by first name.

He wonders if you know how he feels about you. If it’s as visible on his face as it is on the inside.

Second-year just started and he’s already dreading the end of it, having to go through another year without you by their side. By his side.

He knows so much about you now, has learned so much in one year of knowing you yet feels like he doesn’t know enough.

He knows why you decided to become a manager instead of a member of the Girls Volleyball Club but he doesn’t know how you feel when you watch them instead of playing yourself.

He knows you’re struggling with a chronic illness you’re still not fully grasping the extent of but he doesn’t know how you feel about it on your good days, on your bad days, on the days that fall in the middle of it all.

He knows that you love their team but he doesn’t know how you feel about him, just that he’s younger than you, will always be younger than you and all girls in his class are looking at the older guys instead, never the other way around.

-

“Oh no, I should get going.” You look at your watch with a frown on your face. “I totally lost track of the time.”

“Oh, we should, I mean, we could…” Komori’s stumbling over his words now, “I’d like to do that again. If you want, I mean.”

You smile politely. “It was very nice, but I don’t go out for coffee often.”

Komori’s thinking of Tanaka, of the rare exceptions proving the rule, and he takes his heart into his mouth.

“What about a date?”

“Huh?” You look surprised, but not in a negative way, and he soldiers on.

“I’ve been interested in you ever since you were a manager for us but I was too shy to confess to you back then. But we’re older now and we’re both single and I’d like to take you out on a date. Only if you’re comfortable with it, though. I don’t want to pressure you, Senpai.”

Your face had been open and curious up until his last word, your brows furrowing at the formal term. Komori knows when he’s fucking up and this seems to be the moment for him.

“Or you can take your time and think about it first,” he tries to save what he can. “I can give you my number.”

There’s a moment of stillness between the two of you, as if even the world is holding its breath to wait for your answer.

“Yes, that would be okay.”

His hand’s shaking as he scribbles down his number, his heart in his throat.

He’d never thought he’d get the chance to confess to you, not after you graduated.

But as you leave he can’t help the thought that this isn’t going to work out.

He’s just not Tanaka.

He’s not the exception.

-

It’s custom to hand your second button to the person you like the most on the day of your graduation.

But by the time he graduates you’re no longer a student at their school.

He plucks the button from his jacket the minute he steps out of the house, pushing it into his bag until it’s somewhere hidden between his books. He hopes that it will be out of sight and out of mind but he cannot stop thinking about it.

Not when Kiyoomi throws him a knowing look.

Not when seemingly everyone passing them wonders aloud who had gotten his second button first.

And it’s not that no one asks for the button.

It’s the fact that he’s learned what he wants and even if there might be another person out there for him, someone like you but not like you, they’re not at school with him today.

-

One day, two days, three days pass without a word from you.

Komori should have known.

“You seem down, man.” Washio blocks the door of the changing room, worry in his eyes.

“Yeah, you were so happy after you ditched us at the movies, what happened?” Suna’s trying to act as cool as ever but the fact that he’s staying behind with Washio tells Komori that his teammate is worried.

“‘s nothing guys.” He tries to deflect but Washio’s not stepping aside.

“Spill.”

And maybe it’s the fact that these boys have not been on a team with him in High school, have never met you before or known his awkward self trying to hide his crush, but as soon as the first words fall from his lips he can’t stop talking, pouring it all out.

“Damn.” Washio huffs out when he ends while Suna’s on his phone again, chewing on his lip as he types.

“That’s her?” He turns his phone to your instagram profile. It’s a picture of you smiling at the beach, volleyball  tucked under your arm. 

“Yeah.” Komori mumbles, worried for whatever Suna might say next. But he just pockets his phone and claps one hand on his shoulder, pressing the firm muscle as if to tell him, without words, that he knows exactly what he’s feeling right now.

At least he’s not going through this alone.

-.-.-.-

“My name is Komori Motoya. I played Libero at the Dōshō Junior High. I look forward to playing with you. Please take care of me.” He bows with the other boys but none of them stick out to you like he does.

It’s not that he’s got talent. Because Sakusa does too.

It’s not that he’s tall. Because Sakusa is taller.

It’s not even the fact that he’s cute. Because Tsukasa might be cuter.

You can’t tell what it is, but you can point out when it shows.

In the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his mouth curls when he thinks.

In the way he manages to make everyone open up - even you - and never seems to get tired of listening to his cousin's rants. 

You know he has a great future ahead and you wish him the best of luck, hoping against all common sense that your future might intertwine.

Sufferers of chronic illnesses and future sports stars rarely have many things in common.

At least you’ve had High School.

-

One hour. Two hours. Three hours.

You can’t take it anymore, phone pressed against your ear as you wait for the call to be picked up.

You don’t wait for your best friend to properly greet you before the words spill from your lips like the surge of waves.

“Do you remember Komori?”

“Komori?”

“Komori Motoya? Libero? Second Year? Do you remember him?”

“Please, I’d never forget that tall bean pole of sweetness. You had such a crush on him, it was insane. What made you think of him?”

Your chewing on your nails now, a trait you thought you’d gotten over.

“I met him today. We-we had a coffee together.”

“Oh, that’s cute.”

“CUTE?” You huff and apologize for your outbreak instantly, pacing your room now in another futile attempt to calm yourself down.

“He confessed to me. I don’t know what to do!”

“What do you mean? You say yes, of course.”

“But- What about never dating younger guys?”

“Please. you’re both grown ups now, that’s different. But tell me all the details first, I have to live through you, remember?”

-

“Here, take my jacket.” Komori’s jersey jacket envelopes you like a blanket, still warm from his own body heat. It smells like him too, a little bit sweet and a little bit citrusy.

You try not to dip your nose into it and fail but he’s not noticing it, eyes ahead as you walk, his hand a steadying presence on your back.

“I can gather the things myself.” You remind him. “Surely you need the rest after training.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles down at you and your steps falter the slightest bit, your heart betraying you by jumping at the familiar sight. “You would have to walk multiple times and with me we can get this done in one.”

And you think that’s it. That he’s just helpful like he always is. But he always, always cuts into your resolve with his words and his smile. Always, always makes you think that maybe, just maybe, you should give in.

“Besides. I like spending time with you.”

His hand brushes yours as you walk and you wonder what would happen if you just took it, felt the warmth of his pulse under your fingers, allowed yourself to be loved by him.

But your future is still dangling in front of you with its fangs revealed. The future is scary and unsure of many things but tests and doctors telling you all the things you won’t be able to do.

Love is often a fickle thing. 

You’d rather look back knowing you could have had him than look back and know that you lost him.

-

You give yourself 24 hours to think this over before you text him. 

At 23 hours and thirty minutes you decide that enough is enough and send him the text you’d spent thirty minutes revising with your friend yesterday.

There’s no answer.

No read sign, no dancing dots. 

You tell yourself that he’s probably still training and force yourself to put your phone away.

Two days pass until your phone vibrates with a message you’d almost given up on.

But as you open the text, you freeze in your spot.

“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number. My name’s not Komori.”

He’d given you a wrong number.

But he’d sounded so certain, so honest…

-

“Never have I ever broken a bone.” He teases, eyes sparkling as he watches you take a sip of your soda.

The rest of the team is sprinkled across the restaurant, Sakusa just a few seats over talking with your first-year manager about the importance of sanitizing the volleyballs properly.

She’s clearly infatuated with him and he’s clearly oblivious to it.

“Never have I ever broken my word.” You test him and his mouth curls as he thinks before shaking his head.

You shouldn’t look too closely at his lips, shouldn’t think too much about his eyes, but the end of the school year is nearing, graduation looming over you and the sight of his face is the only thing keeping you sane some days.

-

Two days.

Two days you spend doubting yourself, your perception of him.

On Monday you give in to the quiet voice mumbling in the back of your brain, reminding you of hours spent in the gym with him, laughing at his jokes, marveling at how easy comforting others comes to him.

He’s a good guy, always has been.

You think of his shy smile as you type the numbers you’d googled earlier, think of him blushing as you listen to the ringing on the other side.

“EJP Raijin management, Nishida Sadao speaking, how can I help you?”

“Hello Nishida-san, I am calling today with an unusual request but I hope you can help me…”

-

You cry on your graduation day.

Most people cry on their graduation day. 

Some of them shed happy tears, and some of them get their heart broken.

You wonder if you’re the first to break your own heart.

When will the time come when you can trust your decisions?

When will the time come when you can allow yourself to live?

You tell yourself that you will find someone else. Someone like him but not like him.

-

You’re still wearing your office attire, well aware of how out of place you’re looking as the doors open and one athlete after the other leaves the gym, throwing you curious glances.

Every time you hear the creaking sound of the door opening, you stand up a little straighter, fight the nervous fidgeting of your hands and the urge to chew on your nails again.

This time, a dark-haired man steps out, golden eyes landing on you just like with everyone else before. But while everyone else had looked away again, trying to seem polite, his eyes widened in surprise and he let out something that sounded like a string of curse words before he slipped back inside.

A second later, the door opens again, this time to Komori who’s looking at someone behind him.

“Suna, what are you doing? What do you me-” He stops when he sees you, blood rushing to his face in a blush so vivid you’ve never seen before.

“Hi.” You speak first when he seems unable to open his mouth.

“I tried texting you.” You soldier on this time, tongue dry in your mouth, heart hammering in your chest. “But I got the wrong number. At first, I thought it might have been on purpose…”

“It wasn’t.” He bursts out, blushing even more as he stammers. “I must have… I didn’t… I meant.”

You lift the bag in your arms, a thermos peaking out of the top. “Do you want to go for coffee?” You ask, well aware that it’s well past 6 p.m.

But his eyes glitter as he steps closer, just like they did in High School when you handed him his water bottle.

“Are you sure?” He asks and you know exactly how he feels.

You nod, a smile pulling at your lips.

“After all, you still owe me your second button.”

-

Love comes to those who grasp it.

Love comes to those who are patient, trusting that when it appears once it will appear twice.

Love comes to those who know that right person wrong time is not the end of it all.

After all, time isn’t linear.

It overlaps like the petals of a rose.

-

Liberos are usually the shortest player on the team. Komori isn’t.

Managers usually fall in love with the older players. You didn’t.

How lucky to be the exception to confirm the rule.

But, as Suna thinks to himself, watching the two of you leave that night, there might not be a rule to this at all.

And if there is no rhyme and rule to this game, he might still have a chance.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[bluerosefox]

Her Astrophel and Sterling

hmmm

Hmmmmmmmm

You know what.

You know those AU's where the Batfam finds or learns about either hidden or thought to be dead Al Ghul Danny! with a deaged/daughter Dani (Ellie) (I should know, I created a few of those storylines) but what if, now hear me out, what if instead of them finding Danny first its Talia.

Do I want Talia discovering her thought to be dead son to be alive? Yes. Do I want her to find him while investigating Amity Park when the League gets reports of 'Lazarus creatures/water'? Yes.

DO I WANT HER TO KNOCK ON THE FENTON'S DOOR, fully ready to pretend/honey talk her way into the house to uncover what the Fenton's know, ONLY TO MEET A LITTLE ELLIE?!

YES.

Ellie whose eyes and hair look like a copy of her Beloved but she can see bits and pieces of herself as well. Talia knows the child in front of her was not fully her's though but everything makes sense when she hears a voice, a voice she hasn't heard in ages but as a mother just knows, speak out.

"Ellie! I thought I said do not answer the door my Sterling."

"But Daddy, yous was busy fighting the hotdoggys!"

Talia's eyes widen when she finally catches sight of familiar black hair and blue eyes.

and she could only lightly whisper a old nickname she hasn't dared uttered in ages, a name she secretly gave her son due to his love of the stars "Astrophel..."

[sawceelcd]

id like to think that at some point in loki’s vast attempts at getting the loom to work he knew he would take a while so he just decided “fuck it” and him and mobius finally got their kiss

(please turn that into a fanfic im too lazy to write plus i suck ass at it)

[nemurian]

@bigboobyhalo Your sacrifices have been accepted by the great Dapper. I'm so sorry but I don't think you'll be getting them back anytime soon. Or ever.

[grimmweepers]

life comes at you so fast

[nohoney]

no bc i’m actually obsessed with your Hunger Games AU with Keigo and Katsuki. would you be willing to expand on it??

oooh yes, i’m very willing (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

hawks / bakugou

“I think I’ll die.”

Bakugou listens quietly from behind the door of his room, opened just a small crack as he strains his ears to listen to you speak. He’s supposed to be resting since it’s less than 48 hours for the games to begin. All that stupid parading, those annoying interviews, the scoring of all the tributes skills, all of it has lead up to games.

“Don’t say that, you’re smarter than you look. Let them underestimate you, survive out there for yourself and slip under the radar.” Hawks is trying to comfort you, standing out in the hallway where all the bedrooms are located in the lavish apartment. “You remember everything I taught you?”

He assumes that you nodded your head, he can see it in his head along with the meek little hum you gave. You’re going to live, Bakugou is going to make sure of it. You’re going to make it home and pick those flowers from the bushes you love so much, drizzle honey into your tea after trading a month’s worth of rations for just a little bit of decadence, and you’ll outlive him.

You sob a little and Hawks is shushing you. “It’s okay, cry it out now.”

“And Bakugou? What about him?” you ask quietly, “He’s my friend…”

Sadness rises in his chest and he clenches his fist. It’s swallowed down but Bakugou can’t help his heart twisting at the thought of you being sad over him. He’s always been there for you, letting you piggyback off him when you were too tired to walk through the forest, punching your bullies when they made you cry, and he always walked beside you every year when you walked towards the reaping.

“… do you know why he volunteered? He won’t tell me.”

If Hawks says anything, Bakugou is going to murder him.

“It’s best that you get rest tonight,” Hawks chooses to go around the question, “did you need something to help you sleep? I know how restless you’ve been since you’ve come here.”

There’s a little hum from you again, this one being disagreeing. “Do you remember when we used to go to the lake and play in the water with the other kids? And then we’d all nap together under the trees? You used to pet my head until I fell asleep. You remember right?” You ask quietly.

“I do.”

Bakugou does too, making a small spark of jealousy rise up in his chest. It was all innocent back then, just young kids playing and tiring themselves out. But he was always jealous too, seething silently when you paid attention to someone else but secretly happy when you stuck to his side.

“Can you do that for me please? I just… I’m sorry. That was dumb.” You try to backpedal but Hawks assured you that he’s okay with it, the softness of his voice such a dead giveaway for the obvious feelings he has for you.

It makes Bakugou want to bash his head against the wall, thinking of you and Hawks together. You’re supposed to be with him. He was supposed to have given you your favorite flowers and asked your parents for their permission to go steady at this point.

“Let’s go on the couch, I’ll grab the blanket from your room.”

Good. If Hawks had suggested your room or his own, Bakugou would have blown a fuse.

When Bakugou comes out his room in the morning, you’re sleeping alone on the couch with the blanket tucked comfortably around you. You look peaceful and he stands to admire you for a bit. His eyes look around first, glancing to be sure that Hawks isn’t around. Then he reaches down to pet the top of your head, feeling how soft your hair is from the luxurious shower products that he hopes you will get to bathe in again when this is all over.

“Mmf… Bakugou?” You mutter, your voice still heavy with sleep as you start to rouse. “Good morning.”

“Hey.” he simply greets, “You want some tea?”

You nod your head as you slowly sit up from your spot. You stretch your limbs and yawn. Although you managed to sleep, he sees that you are not rested. “I’m scared.” You quietly admit, “I’m really scared.”

He knows.

“I’m scared that-“ you start to speak but then Hawks emerges from the hallway. You keep your head down and shrink into yourself, unable to look at Hawks or Bakugou.

━━━━✧

Hawks watches with bated breath, everyone quiet as they watch the scene unfold in front of them. You fell sick, running with a high fever and delirious, barely able to stay conscious. Bakugou tucked you away in a cave to keep you safe, trying to keep you fed and alive. Everyone could see that he was upset to see you so unwell and unable to fend for yourself.

The two of you fell asleep together just a few hours ago with Bakugou’s arms wrapped protectively around you despite you complaining that it was too hot. You needed to break the fever and he was making sure of that even when you cried over how uncomfortable you felt. But the cameras were on you, recording everything when you slipped out of Bakugou’s hold and slowly peeled off the layers of clothes from your body.

If only Hawks could tell the cameras to turn away, to pan to the other tributes but he knows they won’t.

This is good television for them after all.

“Bakugou… Bakugou… it’s hot.” You slightly rock him back and forth, sweat sticking to your forehead and looking so sad. “Wake up… wake up!”

He startled awake, his eyes immediately of course drawn to your nudity and he hisses for you to put your clothes back on. You weakly fight him, shaking your head and whining in a way that reminds Hawks of when you used to throw a tantrum when you were a child. He used to pick you up and hold you until you calmed down. Now he watches how Bakugou is struggling to keep his composure around you in this vulnerable state.

“(Name)! (Name)! Stop, put your damn clothes on!” Bakugou is trying to push the thermals over your head and dress you while also trying to keep his head turned away. The stupid hosts comment how chivalrous Bakugou is, admiring with a cooing ‘awww’ that makes Hawks sick to his stomach.

This isn’t meant to be cute; you’re indecent and sick and it’s all being recorded.

“I can’t do it…” you murmur, “Can’t…”

“Yea, you can.” Bakugou sighs in frustration, “just put your head through-“

“I can’t go home without you.” You admit to him, still pushing off the clothing he’s trying to put you in.

Everyone watching the scene holds their breath.

Bakugou freezes, his face looked pained but unsure what he should say to you.

“Please, we have to go home together.” You plead quietly with tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes, “We need to go home.”

Bakugou remains silent before putting his hand over your forehead. “Your fever is getting worse, you need to lay down and rest more.”

Hawks breaks out of his trance and looks around. He needs to do his part as your mentor, try to get you some aid from his end in any way he can. So even though he’s sick to his stomach that your nudity was televised and such an intimate moment between you and Bakugou was captured, he sets it aside to schmooze up the elites. He tells them precious little stories of you and Bakugou as children, now using the intimate confession to spin a story of sweet childhood friends with secret harboring feelings for one another.

The very thing that Bakugou never wanted in the first place.

The elites eat it up and a little parachute of medicine sails slowly in the air towards Bakugou. He snatches it and practically rips the shell open, his body deflating in relief when he finds medicine inside.

Hawks just knows that if he were to tell Bakugou how he was able to get that medicine for you, he’d be dead.

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 28: The Sparks Brothers

I'm not a movie person... So when I do actually rewatch a movie (I mean, even watch it, at ALL, haha) it must really mean that something is up. I mean, well, it also IS a thorough, highly enjoyable and visually appealing movie about a band that I've been so incredibly invested in for the past several months. So maybe it's a surprise that I don't watch it more often actually. Because one beautiful side-effect of seeing it each time was getting an unexpected and very strong surge of motivation to keep on going towards the things that matter to me the most, despite any and all obstacles that could appear on the way. Another side-effect of it is being happy and joyfull and being filled with warm feelings and thoughts for the whole following day at least. Usually up to 3 days afterwards actually.

But ok, of course, what I'm getting at is that the Maels' story is so incredibly inspirational. Seeing how they persevered through all those years and NEVER lost their spirit or their vision, never gave up... is not only moving but also something that reminds me that wow, so much *really* is possible. I spent so many years fully convinced that there are things that I'll never be able to achieve. And sure, some of them are indeed pretty unlikely to happen. But if you told me from even one year ago that I'd be making art daily and not dreading being so much as perceived anywhere in the great world (so, including the internet)... well, I would have not believed it at all. I really mean it when I say that I used to believe that there are things that I'll just never be able to do. It's like it was simply not meant for me to be able do it and have those experiences. And yet...!

There's a lot I owe Sparks and this is one of the biggest things I'll always be grateful for. They really changed my life for the better. Truly nothing else before them reaches the same degree of how much it helped me. And well, I'm saying this on TSB day because this is where this feeling of gratitude and feeling SO lucky becomes the strongest. And the beautiful thing about it all is that they were always just themselves. They had their vision, they knew what they wanted to do and didn't care about how it would be received. Which is such an important and meaningful message to me, I can't even express how huge it is to me to see these two people who only really had themselves and their endurance and got exactly where they wanted to be.

Alright, some less grandiose observations now. Well, let's start with the fact that this was by no means my introduction to Sparks but it still really cemented my love for them even more. I loved being reminded of their whole journey and learning more about it, and even moreso I loved being able to see more of their beautiful brotherly bond and their wonderful personalities. Truly no other people in this whole world make me as happy as them currently. And the brothers' sense of humour hits super close to mine, so this is also a time filled with genuine laughs (I die laughing at the absolutely true Sparks facts at the end EVERY TIME). And since I'm a huge fan of animation and mixed media art and such things, this was simply a joy to view for my more artistically-inclined side too.

And damn, those two hours and 15 minutes really fly by so fast. When I have to arrange a huge timeslot to watch it all in one go, because that's the only way to do it for me, and then it feels like no time has passed anyway. And even with so much being said there, it feels like there's still so much more to get to. But it's still enough to lift my spirits completely for a pretty long time. And to make me cry a lot of the time too... Absolutely impossible to not shed a tear by the end of it all. It's moving, it's funny as heck, it's super fun and it's absolutely beautiful and truly lifechanging. 💖

[alexjcrowley]

Guys do not fucking lie to me is Agatha All Along a good show or does it only have lesbians

[nixie-deangel]

If you are still taking emojis, can I please ask for

🍷💔🐺

🍷 Jake's family causes the hangster break up

“It’s no problem,” Mav cuts in, shooting his husband a look before turning back to give Jake a small, but extremely awkward, smile. “I’m sure one day you’ll give us, uh, the full story. But for now you’re more than welcome in our home, Hangman.”

💔 icemav break up / icedad

“Some days it doesn’t feel real. What all went down,” Tom finally answers. “But then I wake up and roll over and he’s not there. His bike pieces aren’t scattered around the house. And it hits me like a F-14 to the chest because I remember all of a sudden.”

🐺 shifter au - hangster

“Honey, don't you understand that you’re mine? That you’re it for me? I don’t get a happy ending in my life, if you aren’t there with me. If you are there next to me,” Jake states, voice cracking from how thick it is. How laced with hurt and love and need for Bradley to finally understand what Jake is telling him.

No longer taking emojis!

[possamble]

Post. That. Sad. CHIAPTER.

I genuinely appreciate this so much but that poll is not encouraging so far LMAO

[candyriku]

I unfortunately find myself unable to work on my current Soriku fic today due to my mental state, but I was able to make a bit of a teaser for the next big Soriku fanfiction that will be coming sometime after JTSYS is finished.

You can read it under the cut, but TW for blood, death, and uh, general misery. This has been cathartic for me to write but the whole idea of this fic is that things are impossibly doomed, so be warned - this is not the happy fun zone.

Blood. There was so much blood.

He had smelled it before even seeing it, the metallic scent thick in his nose before he had even rounded the corner. He had tried to convince himself that it was his own bleeding wound that he smelled, or maybe the blood of something else, someone else, but in his heart, he knew the truth. He picked up his pace, sprinting at top speed now, his sneakers splashing through shallow puddles on the wet pavement. 

When his eyes finally came to rest on the crumpled form at the end of the alley, the breath was knocked out of his chest as though someone had taken a baseball bat to his sternum. He knew, of course he knew, but he had hoped-

No. It didn’t matter what he hoped for. Hopes and wishes weren’t for people that walked his path. He had been denied the right to hope for anything ages ago. When he had signed that contract, signed away his soul, he forfeited all the cushy pleasures of a normal life. He had given up his chance of knowing peace.

But it had been worth it. If it was for Sora, anything was worth it.

Standing over Sora’s blood-soaked body, Riku tried to remind himself of that truth, the one thing that he had tethered his heart to all this time. It was worth it. Even if the chance of Sora making it out alive were next to none, there was still a chance. He could still fight.

One of these loops, Riku would get it right. He would figure out how to keep Sora safe, how to protect him from this accursed dimension where everything was designed to end his life. They would break out and live a normal life together, just the way they had always planned. 

There was a happy future waiting somewhere for the two of them. There had to be. Riku had gambled everything on it.

He crouched down, his shaking fingers gently brushing Sora’s tear-stained cheek. He could hardly stand to look at his face, but the sight of his broken, bleeding body was no better. The wounds were precise and lethal, and Riku was far too late.

No matter how many dozens of times he had watched Sora die, it never got easier. It never stopped feeling like his chest was a black hole caving in on itself, his heart squeezed until it was nothing more than dust. 

He couldn’t look. He couldn't look away.

Riku kneeled and placed both of Sora’s hands over his heart. He was about to speak and begin the incantation that would throw them both back to the starting point again, but Sora suddenly stirred, weakly reaching one hand up towards Riku’s face.

“Riku…” his voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“I’m here,” Riku said, the words catching in his throat. “Don’t speak. You can rest now. It’s okay.”

He hated to say it. He wanted to plead with Sora, wanted to beg him to stay. But if Riku had learned anything throughout the loops, it was that nothing came of begging. There was no one to answer his prayers; benevolent forces did not dwell here. At best, all it would accomplish would be making Sora sad in his final moments. At worst, future loops would be impacted by Riku’s words to Sora, twisting the knife further. He had seen it enough to know what to avoid now.

“I don’t want…” There was a weighted pause. “...Don’t want to leave you.” The pool of blood continued to grow. Riku knew - though he wished that he didn’t - that Sora wouldn’t be able to maintain consciousness for much longer at this rate. He could hardly believe Sora was awake even now. 

“We’ll meet again.” he assured Sora softly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Don’t worry. It'll be okay.” 

“You…” This pause was longer, much longer, and Riku was all but sure that Sora would not speak again. Finally, with a wet cough, Sora continued. “You promise?”

“I promise.” Riku lied. He leaned forward and kissed Sora’s forehead, his lips lingering there for several long moments as he took steadying breaths. 

“Mm… ‘kay.” Sora managed. “Love you… so much.” 

“I love you too.” Riku said, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw popped. He wanted to scream. After taking a moment to compose himself, he sat up and offered his best imitation of a smile to Sora. Better for him to see that than to see how broken Riku really was. 

The all-too-familiar faraway look settled on Sora’s face as the last of his breath left his body. Riku collapsed over him, the tears finally coming, the weight hitting him all at once with the force of a tidal wave. Even knowing that he would see Sora alive and well again in mere moments did nothing to comfort him. 

It didn't matter how many times Riku had seen it. It never got any easier to watch Sora die.

[nobodieshero-main]

NOBODY MOVE I'M HAVING POSITIVE THOUGHTS ABOUT MORDRED AND ATLAS.

[yuutsunaoi-writes]

"It's just another commenter why are you so happy?" BECAUSE THAT FIC TOOK THE LONGEST TIME TO WRITE!! I WROTE IT AS IN DETAIL AND AS IN CHARACTER AS I PROBABLY COULD. I SACRIFICED MY SLEEP AND EVEN WHEN I WENT TO SLEEP THE PLOT WAS STILL SO LOUD IN MY HEAD THAT I FORCED MYSELF TO NOT SLEEP!! THE AU HAD BEEN IN MY MIND AND WAS SCREAMING AT ME TO FINISH IT AND TO SHARE WITH OTHERS!! AND THAT I DID WITH UTMOST EFFORT!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️

In other words, it's nice to read people's opinions on something I pour my heart and soul in.

[adhdtsukasa]

if birthday nene is kind to me and comes home early (if i have to spark nene for the second time you will see me in the news i do Not want a repeat of my valentines pulling) i will try to write down my ena&nene parallels thoughts . maybe

[happyk44]

Nico waking up and he doesn't know who he is. He asks Hazel where he is - where's his kid, where's his wife. Hazel sits with him and assures him he's fine while everyone watches confused. He was sick for a bit, she tells him, and now he's just recovering. He'll get to go home soon.

She is comforting and warm and he relaxes a bit. Minutes pass by, turn into hours, and his memories come back. The knowledge that he is him. He is not the dead man who left behind a wife and child after being robbed at knifepoint. He is not the little girl choking to death with asthmatic weak lungs that won't inhale and a mother who doesn't care. He is not the old woman wondering where her husband is.

He is Nico. Son of Hades and Maria di Angelo. He is not dead, not yet. He is not survived by anyone, not yet.

Hazel holds his hand the whole time and he comes back to her weary smile and sighs shallowly as the edges of her face bloom back into his memory. Hazel, his sister. There are other people on the periphery but he focuses on her. Her brown skin. Her brown eyes. Her thick curly black hair. Her warm hands. The bracelet on her wrist.

Her voice beckoning him back.

"His wife looked like you," Nico says. "A little taller though. Older."

He was twenty-six. She'd been in his life since they were five, playing in the sandbox. She'd screamed at another kid for taking her shovel and he'd fallen in love immediately. Nico's heart holds onto that love, twenty-one years, even as the man's world fades. Slowly the love seeps away too, and he's just left with a strange longing for a life that wasn't his.

A life that doesn't exist anymore.

"Is he okay?" Hazel asks.

He closes his eyes and exhales shaky. There's a vicious pain in his abdomen. Another lingering ache in his throat. Screams still echo even as the world fades into wispy colours and a strange man telling him it's time to go.

"He's okay," Nico says, because there isn't any other answer he can give.

The man is dead. The man who lived twenty-six years and had a wife he loved from childhood and a daughter whose young hands never left his own as he laid bleeding on hot tarmac. The man who heard crying and pleads to stay just a little longer, to just hang in there, and couldn't. Try as he might, as hard he wanted to, he couldn't stay.

It was time to go.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

I've started a google doc simply titled :(