#I have no idea why this pure crack turned into more serious art

[littleracha]

hai , this is my first request 🙈😇 I just started embracing my regression and I feel so safe with jinnie. I would love a story where maybe hyunjin has had a hard schedule day and comes home tense but when he finds you regressed he softens and takes care of you with bubble baths and hair brushing and bedtimes stories etc ? 😇 if not it’s okie I just thought I’d try to ask , I like your writings 😇

Hello Little Ducky!

I am so honored to be your first request! I am so very sorry this took so long for me to get to. I appriciate you duckling, I hope you enjoy

(Thank you for your kind words)

Sometimes Mama's Deserve Care Too

Comebacks were always the best but worst times for Hyunjin. He got to show the world all his hard work and put his all into another form of art. Dancing was an outlet where he could get lost in the moment. Sharing that with Stay and watching their reactions was electrifying. However, doing it day after day was taxing. It was the same dance with the same song, it played in a loop like a drill in his head. With this, he also had meetings, interviews, photoshoots, fan meets, and a whole bunch of other things added to his schedule. Worst of all he was away from you. The one thing that seems to bring happiness to his life. A single smile from your pretty face was enough to make any storm cloud clear. He just needed you in his arms more and more these days.

Finally, this last bit of filming had ended and he could go home. It was late and dark, a storm seemed to be building on the horizon. He jiggled his keys in the lock and shoved the door with a frustrated groan. All Hyunjin wanted was to curl up in bed with you. He skipped going to the kitchen for a bite to eat and walked passed the bathroom for a late-night shower. The bed was calling his name. However pure exhaustion morphed into anxiety when he didn't see you laying down. Where could you be? You didn't mention working late, you would text him if you were out with friends, and your car was still in the driveway. A soft yet joyful giggle knocked him out of his brewing storm. Hyunjin made his way to the hall where a light from the playroom glowed. Cracking the door open slightly, his heart melted at the sight.

You were sat at the coloring table with your crayons a mess everywhere. Your hair was in knots, presumably from your afternoon nap. A paci hung from your lips and a sippy was long forgotten. However, his favorite part was the serious face you had as if you were working on a true masterpiece.

"little muse?" he spoke softly to not scare you. He frowned as you still jumped a little.

"Mama! You scare me!" you yelled playfully and pouted

"Mama is so sorry little artist. He sees you are working on something, can mama see it sweetie" he kneeled next to you and began to pet your messy hair down. Working out these tangles was going to cause a few more tears than he think he could handle.

"Mhm! I color a spaceship and stars for Mama! Cuz mama is doing the star dance!" how could anyone get any cuter, he thought to himself.

"Oh my goodness little one! This belongs in the Mama Museum! Want to go add it to your gallery?" You nodded big and he laughed as you raced to the kitchen.

"MAMA WE NEED TO USE THE STAR ONES"

"Shhhhh inside voices little muse, but yes, mama thinks the star magnets would be perfect for this piece." Hyunjin tacked your coloring onto the fridge front and center. He smiled as he looked over all of your work. Jinnie turned back to you and picked you up, living for the way you giggled. Life was so simple to you, so fun, and so easy. This is why he loved to care for you, you made him forget all the struggles of an idol life. Here it was Mama and baby.

"Lovebug, have you taken a bath yet sweetie?" He questioned and he placed sweet little kisses on your cheeks. You shook your head and pouted. "No need for a pouty baby, how about Mama helps you take a bath, then we get all snug for bed." He could tell by your response you liked that idea.

Hyunjin drew you a bath and added all of your favorite soaps and bubbles. He even threw in some extra special bath glitter. When he turned around he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Little dancer, what are you up to silly one?" he had just caught you trying your best to do the S-class arm choreography. Hyunjin even heard you softly whispering the lyrics to yourself.

"I try to dance like Mama!" he smiled and placed you into the bath, humming so you knew he was listening. "But it so hard! Mama is so mazing!"

"You are amazing too sweetheart, mama just has lots and lots of practice. But want to know a secret little one?" it was your turn to hum. "It can be hard for Mama too." you frowned at the thought of your caregiver struggling, he caught on. "But taking care of you little muse, well that makes it all worth it"

He heard you say something under your breath as he slowly brushed out the knots, hoping you were too distracted by the glitter to notice. "What was that little one"

"Mamas deserve care too!" You looked up at him so he knew you were serious. How did he ever get so lucky? Here he had the best thing in his whole life getting even better. The sweet angle that he was meant to be protecting from the world, was instead protecting him.

"Thank you, lovebug. Mama's do deserve care too." He lifted you out of the tub and dried you off. As he dressed you in your jammies he spoke again. "You know what Mama thinks would help him so much little one?"

"What mama?" you were so curious as to how you could care for your mama.

"I think cuddles and a bedtime story are exactly what I need," Jinnie replied as he took your hand and walked you into the bedroom. You picked out the best book you could find and crawled up next to Mama in bed.

"This one help Mama, I knows it!" you handed him the book and snuggled in tight.

"My Mama is the best" he read the title out loud. That personal storm cloud was long gone now. "Comfy little one? Let's Begin"

[anniviech]

He kept people in the belief that he was afraid of water - just so no one would ever guess him to be the weirdo who enjoys skinny-dipping at night, iin case he ever got spotted.

-- This is what happens when @cherazor playing Sims and telling me about it results in cracky head-canons. Yep.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 57 (Final)

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You find your relic.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

You’d only been to the ancient Sanctum a few times, with strict access to the library for your studies and nowhere else, and normally you would be excited to visit the unofficial headquarters of the Mystic Arts.

But now, as you followed Wong to the room of portals that would lead to the Nepal sanctum, your stomach twisted and your heart raced. You couldn’t even enjoy the fact this was where Strange had gone on his near-disastrous pilgrimage. The idea of the Ancient One kicking him out on his ass was an entertaining one, though you were still glad she eventually trained him. As irritated as you were about a lot of things regarding the former surgeon, he and Wong both had taught you nearly everything you knew.

Plus, you’d seen the scars on his hands. As arrogant and egotistical as he appeared, Strange had suffered to get where he was. Not unlike yourself. Not unlike Bucky.

The Orb of Agamotto hung within the circular room where other sorcerers consulted with it, verifying that the magical Earthly shields were still intact. Past them were three doors leading to the other sanctums, including the one in Kathmandu.

You and Bucky followed Wong through, the familiar feeling of displacement shifting your stomach and throwing you off balance for a moment. Neither Wong nor Bucky were as unsteady as you were. It had been something you were embarrassed about, but according to Strange during one of your lessons, it simply meant you were more sensitive to spatial displacement.

As Wong led you both through the ancient stone hallways, past the commons where other sorcerers were in training, doubt crept along your nerves. Someday, possibly sooner than you were prepared, all of these people were going to follow you. Look to you for guidance, for teaching. For protection.

How were you supposed to become the next Ancient One if you couldn’t even walk through a portal without getting dizzy?

This wasn’t going to work. The idea was crazy enough to begin with. The Ancient One had to be wrong. You were going to step into her office and nothing would happen. You would make a fool of yourself; you weren’t any more talented or skilled than any other sorcerer. Just half a year ago, you’d had no idea demons and magic were even real.

And now, you were expected to carry on the mantle as one of the most powerful sorcerers on Earth? How was that even possible? How could you ever be worthy enough to—

Wong opened a door using a complicated series of hand gestures, and as soon as you stepped through, your panicked mind fell silent. Energy thrummed along your skin, setting the hairs upright.

“Here it is.”

Wong’s announcement was unnecessary; you would know this place in your dreams, even though you had never been.

It was a simple room with a single large, circular window pointed towards the mountains over the city. Potted plants perched on most available surfaces that weren’t covered with books, scrolls, and odd knickknacks.

There was only a single writing desk pushed to the side, humble and unobtrusive. The rest of the room was empty space with a single well-worn green rug in the middle. But the plants made everything seem alive and verdant. It felt very much like a place the Ancient One would spend her time. It was a reflection of her, in a way. Quiet, but hidden with secret truths.

“Take a look around,” Wong said, but you were already moving. Slowly and with intense focus, you circled the room, reaching out and feeling, not with your hands but with your mind.

Odd and powerful energy pervaded the room, muted by spells but still apparent to you. They were coming from the artifacts that were laid out, seemingly casually, on the shelves and desks.

Most of them seemed as plain and unimportant as the room itself. A cracked vase with the lip stained red. A golden helmet that was varnished and faded, but two glittering horns jutted from the temples. A knobby staff with a smooth, grey stone fixed at one end, as modest as any walking stick except for the melodic hum that emanated from the stone. You had a feeling neither Wong nor Bucky could hear it.

But despite all the weird, wonderful oddities in your reach, you were drawn elsewhere. You approached one corner of the room where lay a pile of old scrolls and their cloth wrappings, and moved them aside with care to reveal what was hidden underneath.

It was a sword hilt. Just the hilt. There was no blade, not even a piece of broken metal. The metal was dulled with time and flaked with rust, the pommel grey and dirty.

You reached out and hesitated. Fingertips inches away, something stopped you. The knowledge that once you took hold of the relic, everything would change.

You glanced over your shoulder at Bucky.

He was watching you with close attention, as was Wong, but when he caught your eye he gave a small smile of encouragement. He supported you, even though he had to know what this meant, or at least had a good idea of it.

Not every sorcerer found their relic within the Ancient One’s study.

Comfort and warmth, so strong it could only be described as love, flooded across the bond and washed away your fears. You returned his smile, even if it was shaky, and you held on to that feeling as you turned back to the hilt.

You closed the distance, wrapped your fingers around the relic, and lifted it.

It was surprisingly heavy; that was your only observation before it began. The hilt thrummed in your palm, vibrating so fast you nearly dropped it.

The rust flaked away from the metal, leaving it polished and silver. The grey pommel was shaken of its dirt, and you realized it was white bone, the metal wrapping around it to form the grip and crossguard.

The thrumming didn’t stop, but you couldn’t let go even if you wanted to. Your fingers seized around the metal, energy teeming up your hand and arm. When it reached your right shoulder, all the way up to your pentagram, the sigil burned in a way it hadn’t done since the ritual.

Bucky must have sensed your panic because he rushed forward, but you backed away from him fast, instinct screaming at you to put a safe distance between you now.

It was a good thing you had; the energy from your sigil exploded down your arm, through your hand, and into the hilt. A burst of red light shot outward, forcing you to turn away from the blinding beam.

When the light dimmed and you could see again, blinking away the after images, you stared at the sword. That’s what it was now. A glowing red blade, seemingly made entirely of light. The energy that came from it was purely of the demon realm, scorching and sulfuric.

“What…” You choked the words past your dry throat. “What is this?”

There were only a handful of times you’d ever seen Wong shocked. So, that was three powerful sorcerers you’d rendered speechless in the span of a day.

“The blade of Hell, or so it is spoken. None in the history of the order had been able to unlock its powers, rendering it anything more than a broken hilt.” He leveled you with a somber stare. “It is called Daemonio Vexatur. Which means—“

“—to become a demon.”

Wong raised a brow.

“Rough translation, but yes.”

“So, it’s a demon sword?” asked Bucky, eyeing the glowing blade. He was understandably wary, and honestly, was accepting what was happening better than you were. You were still stuck on the fact that you were holding a glowing-freaking-sword in your hand.

“Yes. And no,” Wong said in traditional teaching-fashion. “A demon cannot wield it, but it takes demonic energy to power.”

“Oh. So that’s why my sigil and my entire arm feel like they’re on fire.”

Bucky’s mouth opened and he took a step forward, protectiveness sizzling along the bond, and you gave him a hurried smile.

“Kidding. Sort of.” You smiled wider through your clenched teeth. “It is really uncomfortable.”

Bucky’s dark look told you he didn’t believe you, and with what you imagined was coming from your end of the bond, you didn’t blame him. Holding the sword was like holding on to a live wire that was also burning. There was a molten jolt connecting the hilt to your sigil, and you were just hoping to not get incinerated in the process.

And just like that, the connection was gone, and the relief of your arm no longer being on fire was dimmed by the disappointment as the sword was extinguished, leaving nothing more than a gleaming hilt.

“What happened?” You frowned, eyeing the relic as if searching for an on switch.

“It will take time and training to effectively control your relic.”

“How long?” You looked up when Wong didn’t answer immediately, catching the serious dent in his brow.

“It’s hard to say. No one in living memory has wielded the blade, and it was believed no one ever would.”

Wong gave a heavy sigh.

“So of course, you would be the one to wield it.”

You returned your gaze to the relic and turned over the hilt in your hand, admiring the metal and bone. You wondered if the bone was from a demon, a safe bet considering.

“So.” You carefully put down the hilt and turned to give Bucky your best serious face. “How does it feel to have a wizard girlfriend with a lightsaber?”

Wong rolled his eyes. He knew you well enough by now to know what you were doing, but he didn’t comment on your attempts to over your fear with humor. He muttered something about reporting to Strange as he left the office.

But Bucky…

Worry and fondness conflicted across the bond, struggling to coexist. He stepped forward, the green cloth tunic he’d found in one of the drawers of your room stretched unfairly tight across his chest. It was the largest he could find in a hurry, and it was nearly enough to distract you from your own anxieties.

“I think…” Bucky wrapped his arm around you, drawing you into an embrace that you melted into easily. “That I’m scared for you. I’m confused as hell what this means, and I’m guessing this isn’t going to make your life any easier or less complicated. But… I’m also proud of you.”

You could sense the pride easily, but Bucky was trying to bury the fear that was close to terror. He truly was scared of what this meant. You were too, and the Ancient One’s words weighed heavily on your shoulders.

There was a questioning feeling tugging at your thoughts, and you remembered too late that Bucky could sense the same anxiety, even if he didn’t have all the details. So you smoothed out your tumultuous thoughts and covered them the best way you knew how.

“You say that to all the wizard girlfriends.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“That is what swords do.”

Bucky pulled back far enough to stare at you with narrowed eyes, but when he touched his horns to yours it was with such gentleness that you nearly forgot to breathe. But breathe you did, drinking in his familiar, soothing scent and allowed the tension to drain from your muscle.

“We should head back.” Bucky said after a moment of intimate, comfortable silence in which you finally relaxed. “Got a bastard to catch.”

You reluctantly let go first, knowing he was right and you couldn’t stay here forever. Turning toward the sword hilt, you reached for it and paused. You took a small detour and picked up an old, ratty cloth nearby and carefully wrapped the relic within. Until you had a better grasp of how to wield the sword, it was probably a wiser idea to not handle it directly. You had no idea if it was sentient like Strange’s cloak, and it would be better not to accidentally set it off. Slicing off your own leg was a poor way to convince anyone that you were the next Ancient One.

On your journey back down the halls toward the portal door, Bucky said, “So… what are you going to name it?”

He smiled at your sideways glance.

“All cool swords get a name. It’s kind of a universal rule.”

Maybe you didn’t know Bucky as well as you thought you did, because you had no idea he was such a damn nerd.

“Yeah? You’ll have to bestow all your sword knowledge on me.”

“Is that a sexual innuendo?”

“It is now.”

Bucky’s smile died on his lips when you were no longer at his side. He paused and looked back where you had stopped at the threshold to the portal room.

“What if I can’t do this?” The doorway before you was no longer just a doorway. It was an insurmountable hurdle, and your feet wouldn’t budge from the floor. “What if I fail?”

Bucky approached slow and steady, his expression gentle and fond.

“You won’t. You’re too stubborn to fail.” A warm hand softly cupped your cheek, his human one, and you leaned into it. He laughed silently at your predictable need to be touched, but his expression faded into something more serious. “But on the very slim chance you do, then you get back up and you start again. Just as you always have.”

Your stomach fell. Bucky couldn’t understand what failure meant in your case. You didn’t even know what it meant, but you could guess. If you failed to be the Ancient One everyone needed… then there might not be any second chances.

Bucky wrapped you in his arms one more time, undoubtedly sensing his words of encouragement hadn’t hit as effectively as he’d wanted.

“Whatever this means, you finding that relic… Whatever happens when we find Zemo...” Bucky’s voice was deep in his chest, a rumbling sound that never failed to comfort you. “I’ll be here.”

You returned his embrace, gripping him tightly as you pressed your cheek against his chest.

“I know.”

And you did, too. Bucky would be there for you. Not because he was compelled to be, and not out of a sense of duty or guilt to protect you. He would be by your side by choice.

And that fact made Zemo’s escape, the Ancient One’s words, and your own self-doubt a little easier to bear. Because you and Bucky would weather it.

Together.

“When wounds are healed by love, the scars are beautiful.” –David Bowles

[ratinthedeadhouse]

Forbidden Love

My heart is devoted to the one I shouldn’t love...

Fyodor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Trying to keep it fluff.

"... A demon you say?" You question with hesitation, pale face bearing a frown as you try to put all the puzzles together. "That man is the super ability user and a terrorist that Yokohama is so desperate to catch? The very man, I spent countless evenings going to museums and libraries with? The very man with his astonishing diamond brain had helped me solve several murder cases?"

Silence settled between you and other Special Division Forces agents who glared at you with fear or utter confusion.

Nobody knew of your accidental connection with Fyodor Dostoevsky, or simply known as Demon Fyodor, and it sure was a surprise to you when your (e/c) eyes noticed a familiar face on all the screens and papers in the office with a screaming title: 'Wanted Criminal. Terrorist. Fyodor Dostoevsky. Highest rank ability user. Ability unknown.'

You honestly had no idea who the mysterious slender man was when you first met him at the museum. He looked charmingly tired, sharp purple eyes looked deeply into your soul while you both stood, rather awkwardly, near a woodblock painting that depicted the suffering of young children and women. Their weak bodies engulfed by flames, others were drowning in the peaceful veil of water. Despite the horrible scenario the colours united in harmony making you both stare at it for longer than you should have.

"The choice of the colour pallet... It mocks their suffering" you stated after a while, rather talking to yourself but hoping, subconsciously, that a curious stranger with a funny white hat would respond to your comment. To your amusement he did.

"Mhm," he nodded at first, pinching his chin like philosophers do while thinking and then slowly added: "Maybe the painter wanted to tell us that not all sufferings are recognizable at first glance. I noticed when walking up to the painting, the bright colours made me think of happiness and kindness, however, now that we stand closer to it we see that their very souls are in terrible agony" Fyodor's voice was soft like moonlight rays with a gentle touch of a foreign accent.

"I suppose... It depicts life itself. We never know how much one suffers due to the façade they’re putting" you said with a sad smile. At this very moment you looked delightful, Fyodor found a strange pleasure in watching your serious face merging into a saddened frown. And oh, he did it on purpose. He could've chosen a less explicit interpretation of the absurd painting but in his calculated mind he knew that this version would strike you the most... And he was right.

You still didn't move from the tiny painting, twirling a strand of your silky, (h/c) hair around your finger, beautiful eyes glued to the painting but your thoughts wandered far away. 

It took one glance from Fyodor to understand your entire being, no matter how complicated you think of yourself - to him you are an open book, and he could not resist the urge to live the faint mark on one of those innocent, white pages. 

“I apologize if my interpretations upset you, miss...” started Fyodor with a polite smile curving upon his frail face, but was interrupted by your sudden enthusiastic reply:

“Oh, please don’t apologize. One is a fool if they are not moved or hurt by art” your voice was gentle and soft and Fyodor couldn’t help but love your words. 

Perhaps you two were more similar than he thought at first. In any case, enchanted by your watchful careful eyes, your smile and graceful movements of your hands, your speech and voice - he couldn’t just let you go like that, out of his sight. 

A man tilted his head sideways a little, looking pleasantly amused, letting his dark locks fall upon his cheek, gently. “It seems that I found a charming lady who shares a similar view on things with me” something bittersweet hid in his words but it didn’t matter to you. 

With a small, delightful laugh you move your right hand forward: “My name is, (y/n). A pleasure to meet you” 

Expecting a handshake you watched as the man in a long dark cape came closer, gently grabbed your pale small hand and softly kissed the back of your hand;

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady” he murmured watching how your pupils dilate. “My name is Fyodor. Would you agree to spend the rest of the evening in my company?”

Walking around with a stranger whom you’ve just met seemed like a ridiculous idea... But you felt safe around him, although his eyes were dark as a bottomless well, you agreed but made a promise to yourself to stay on guard. However, he cast away all your suspicions in just a few hours. 

You became good friends, discussing ancient Myths and modern poetry embarked on philosophical journeys sitting in the dim corner of the library simply enjoying the presence of each other. He even played his cello for you under the mocking bright moon. His words and the depths of thought sometimes caught you off guard however, you were able to track his line of thoughts and in return challenged him with your endless and charming affection. 

Fyodor never learnt what the word love truly meant. He could explain its psychological and physiological effect but never experienced it himself. He was in absolute control over his feelings and that is why he felt confused when you would meet him with a bright, loving smile that changed into a slightly concerned frown when you noticed dark eye-bags on his face. Why did you notice it? Why did you care? Who gave you the power to capture his heart so suddenly and so... wrongly? 

For the first time in a long while, Dostoevsky felt as if he made a dreadful mistake. At first, he thought of you as a pawn. Easy to move and easy to get rid of. But you reminded him of himself... yet you were so much better! Despite your intellect and wittiness, you had a warm, loving heart, that even accepted a demon like him. It all changed when you finally opened up to him about your placement of work. That’s when he realised how forbidden your relationship would be. Soon you would find out anyway about his identity, his goals and... it would wound you. Deeply. 

Soon he stopped coming to the museum where you two would usually meet. You remember that day. You took his favourite tea from the shop and held it in your cold hands while the hot drink burnt your fingers. 

‘He will never come again’

You felt as if you lost a piece of your heart. But you never cried about it and kept all the memories of the mysterious man named Fyodor close to your heart, or rather what was left of your heart. 

But now it all makes sense. The puzzle is complete. You stand in the room full of your colleagues who proceed to glare at you in silent amusement and your heart leapt in ecstasy. The adrenaline rushed through your blood as your cheeks turned red - you felt like the main character of your own story, engaged in a forbidden relationship with the demon himself. 

You didn’t care about the consequences but on entering the Special Prison for the restrained Ability Users, shadows of doubt crept within your heart. 

“Please wait here, ma’am. You sure you want to interrogate him?”

“Yes” 

“In terms of emergency, we won’t be able to assist you immediately... ” 

“I understand”

The heavy door was shut behind you, a metal desk was drilled into the floor and so were the chairs. No windows - just solid rock walls that reminded you of a medieval dungeon, except there were no cracks at all. Finally, you heard footsteps and another door before you was opened. 

“Good afternoon, Fyodor,” you said in a strict tone trying to hide your excitement as much as you could. 

His lilac eyes widened in surprise, thin lips parted as he watched you right there before him. In his head, he tried to process why you came out of your way to see him? Did he not abandon you back then? Did you not realise what a hateful creature he was? 

“(Y/n)... Why are you here?” he questioned curiously. 

You were now completely alone in the interrogation - underground cell. He watched you come closer to him with a soft smile looking with kindness into his soulless eyes... 

“Why, you ask? Because I love you. That is the only concept you failed to fully understand. Monsters have hearts as well, they just need to learn how to love” words fell softly from your rosy lips while Fyodor closed his eyes and chuckled to himself. 

“Talking to you is pure joy (y/n)! Love is the ultimate atonement of all human sins. Even a Devil needs someone to love him at the end of his immortal life...“

“... Angels did fight for Faust’s soul at the end, despite all his reckless deeds” you added referencing the work of a German poet, Goethe. 

Fyodor sighed. He reached his slender cold hand towards you and you grabbed it without hesitation. 

“Will you be... my angel, (y/n)?”

You nodded raising your bright eyes at him. A soft kiss was placed upon your forehead before he hugged you letting you bury your face in his shoulder. You were like a blooming flower in his deadly grip... but he would never hurt you. Ever. 

People say the forbidden fruit is sweet... But is it so for the forbidden love that burns like fire?

 lmao part 2 is gonna be saddddd (if I get the motivation to even write it) 

[bringingglory]

thank you so much for the tags @hanamuri @fullmetalscullyy @megthemighty @nightofnyx8 @tsaritsa !

How many works do you have on AO3? 11! some are botw, one is tdiapt, some are fma, and some are haikyuu! i mostly just write for whatever im interested in at the moment/whichever fandom inspiration strikes for

What's your total AO3 word count? 101,939

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Keep Your Friends Closer But Your Enemies Closer - T: ahhhh my miraculous ladybug fic! ive literally been working on her for FOREVER and i swear to god im going to finish it, i literally know how i want to end it and i know all the events leading up to it. hell, i even have a vague idea of what i want to happen in the middle, i just need to know what order the middle stuff happens in and also i just have to write it. It's an AU where Ladybug and Chat Noir are actually enemies but then Chat Noir accidentally befriends Marinette and then drama etc etc etc.

rain - G: first zelink fic babey! set Pre-Calamity and basically link and zelda get stuck in a cave because of the rain and there's just a lot of quiet pining, etc etc.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Oikawa - T: HAHAHA this was a crack fic inspired by my roommate but then i forgot it was supposed to be a crack fic while writing it and there are accidentally real emotions alkjdfalksdf but anyway it was very fun to write lmao. it was based off this meme and basically it's an AU where Oikawa is Spider-Man and Iwaizumi doesn't know but they still like hang out and stuff. It's a lot of fun, or at least I think it is, haha.

stolen moments - T: first royai fic!!! just a series of "stolen moments" (mic drop) where roy and riza like cant be together but yknow, they try. lots of pining. etc

a secret weapon of sorts - T: 5+1 edwin fic inspired by the Simple People OVA where instead of ed giving winry earrings to get out of trouble, he gives her kisses.

Do you reply to comments, why or why not? Yes! I try really hard to!!! Sometimes I get overwhelmed and I don't respond to comments for a while, but I absolutely do my best to when I remember because I feel like it's my way of saying "thank you" for them reading my fics in the first place, haha.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Uhhhhh, sleepless I guess? But it's more open-ended/not explicitly positive more than anything, though even then I feel like I've got a hint of hope in there. alkjdfhalsdk idk man I just, I can't write *pure* angst, there's gotta be some light, and thus I could never end anything angstily

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? LMAO most of my fics??? I guess??? bc despite being an anxious piece of shit, I am an optimist by heart

Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've ever written? When I was younger! Idk, I guess the Rise of the Brave Frozen Tangled Dragons fandom??? if anyone remembers what that is lmao

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not exactly? Maybe some weird comments on KYFCBYEC but even then, it wasn't that often.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? No no no no no no no no. I am telling you, I physically cannot write smut. I don't think I actually have the capacity. Absolute fucking kudos to every single smut writer out there bc it truly is an art form capturing that intimacy and emotion and etc, but I literally get flustered from writing mildly detailed kiss scenes. If I ever wrote smut, I would burst into flames on the spot.

Actually lies, I technically wrote smut once, but it was at the request of my roommates and they wanted me to write a crack smut fic of Y/N x our uni's mascot and I wrote that thing in like 3 hours with so many silly memes to keep myself sane (not like other girls, tongues battled for dominance, etc), did not edit it, and because it was so, like, not serious, I was actually able to get through it. But even then, when I wrote "thrusting" I literally had to put my laptop down for 20 minutes.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Nope!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not yet! Someone commented on Your Friendly Neighborhood Oikawa and asked if they could translate it and I said yes! They haven't gotten around to it yet, but I would love to see it if they do!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet!

What’s your all-time favourite ship? Bro it changes day to day. You can't ask me this lmao. The current ship I'm most fixated on is Iwaoi, but I wouldn't say they're my all-time favorite.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I'm not answering this energy. On god, I'm going to finish things. I want to.

What are your writing strengths? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh very good question lmao. I don't really like thinking about "strengths" in my writing bc who am I to say? akjdslakfjdf idk, instead, I'm just gonna say some things I like/try to do in my writing, which are: conversational prose/having a lot of voice in the narration, I try to add humor wherever I can, and recently I've gotten better and metaphors and describing things bc I picked up writing poetry a year ago!

What are your writing weaknesses? hmmm, a thing I dislike about my writing/the writing process is that I'm slow to publish things and slow to finish things because I'm such a messy first drafter and I also take forever to edit. I would like to uhhhhh get things out faster. Also I tend to repeat myself a lot bc I forget the details of things I write sometimes lmao.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Hmmm, I dunno, I guess I don't have any strong thoughts? The only other language I know is Mandarin but even then, I suck ass at that, so I'll prolly never write dialogue in another language simply bc I like to try to portray things semi-realistically and I don't think I have a good enough grasp on any other language the same way I do in English to produce authentic enough dialogue.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Fablehaven I guess? But Idk I was in fourth grade an didn't even know what fandom was yet. Rise of the Guardians, maybe?

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

AHHHH idk??? maybe hold your hand out in the dark because i really experimented with my writing on that one and im sort of proud of the result, just like the fact that i wanted to try something new and it turned out alright. that or Sunset Wheeling which is an iwaoi fic where they just skate, and like it's prolly one of the most self-indulgent things i've ever written because it's silly and they just. skate. but aljdfalsjd idk i loved it and i churned it out in 6 days and it was a lot of fun lol

ahhh a bunch of people have been tagged already, so sorry if im tagging you again, but for now im just gonna tag @niconiconina @notkorras @thatisadamnfinecupofcoffee @firewoodfigs and anyone else who wants do it!

[cutegirlmayra]

I'm a simple person with simple needs: angst, dark sonamyy, hurt/comfort. Please Mayra only you can do this (claps hands in prayer)

(NOT MY ART! Found here (x) Please support the artist!)

PROMPTS ARE ON SHUTDOWN, do not send me any! This also means Commissions are closed too. (I’ve got a waiting list, sorry!)

Asks that follow the Blog Rules are okay though (x)

Find this prompt discussed on Pajama Blogs (x 26:11)

Prompt:

Due to a Chaos Rift that shook the very fabric of space and time, the Master Emerald being severed in two and trying to attempt to mend it back into one again was Sonic.

Since he was the only one that had connected so many times to the power of Chaos, channeling it into his very core, it was almost like he was a being of pure, controlled chaos energy.

However, this was not the case.

As Knuckles performed the act of combining the Master Emerald’s power to link it to Sonic, which was whole at the time, it ended up reversing the effects...

Instead, once Sonic was perfectly linked to the Master Emerald, the Master Emerald didn’t combine it’s energy to match Sonic, but Sonic’s soul ended up matching the Master Emerald...

Two Sonic’s were created, one with a darker hue and the other with a much lighter hue than the original Sonic.

They both seemed off from Sonic, one possessing more of an anger and the other a quiet justice that sporadically meant being protective over his friends.

This meant that Darker Sonic, the one with anger, also was more emotionally unstable and his actions didn’t seem to make much sense other than lashing out.

Lighter Sonic, the one with a serious look always to his face, valued heroism almost to the point of excessivism. Although not as emotional as his dark brother/other half, he was almost stoic but deeply loyal and passionate to his idea of ‘right’ and extremely merciless in destroying what he considered ‘wrong’.

Unable to stand each other, the two would often fight unless separated. It was almost as though the two conflicting sides of Sonic’s personality and very being were constantly at odds with each other, resulting in Knuckles never being able to get them to work together to conjoin back into Sonic--and consequently--bring the Master Emerald back into a whole state of being as well.

Chaos, the God of Destruction, tried to fight the two Sonic’s into joining together again, shoving them up against the other and using his power to force a fuse, but Amy was the only one to hear Darker Sonic state that Lighter Sonic would never accept him, and therefore, never merge successfully back into what they once were.

She felt she had found a clue... but as they defeated Chaos in his weakened, torn state, they vanished...

As everyone tried to find the Lighter Sonic, Amy... went for the Darker.

She knew he was staying in an abandoned mansion somewhere in the woods, one he would talk about back when he was dealing with being a werehog... she had heard his ghost stories and about a camera flashing to help him fight, then his frustration and tearing through the home... but she wondered if that’s where his other self had run off too...

She wasn’t wrong...

Creaking open the door, after passing the gates, it was clear the ‘ghosts’ that used to live here were too afraid to re-enter the home. Unable to fully communicate to her, they played charades to retell the events that had occurred. In his emotional coldness, Darker Sonic must have gone into a fury and kicked the three out of the mansion, wanting to be alone...

Amy put a finger up to her mouth, worried about him... the Lighter Sonic seemed to be the hero-side of Sonic... but he also seemed crueler.

She didn’t want to believe that this Darker Sonic was apart of Sonic’s true self either... he seemed too unstable and emotional... but she’d rather try and reason with that than stoic stubbornness...

She wondered if the Chaos Rift had split and twisted Sonic’s personality traits... their was no way Sonic could be so torn between these parts of himself all the time... wouldn’t someone break under all that stress? Did he really, truly struggle with two sides of himself..?

Did he discipline himself to act one way, but truly desire another? Or have the tendency for it?

She shook her head from her thoughts as she passed the gate and had already walked through the door, peeking in to see what she could find.

It was once a lovely home... she could tell by the woodwork, the remains of the furniture... it could have been a very luxurious estate...

“...Sonic?” She called out quietly, seeing something turn it’s head in the dark.

Leaning rather relaxed but frighteningly still on a banister upon the large staircase that split into three,... was his shadowed self.

Sonic was too free-spirited to have internal conflicts this bad... right?

Was chaos energy promoting such division? Was the Chaos Rift more than just some attack Shadow used back then... did it actually continue to chip and crack away at the Master Emerald every time it was used to create... this?

Shadow was already fine with never using such an ability again, but everyone was convinced this Sonic was like the evil tendencies of man within Sonic,... but Amy couldn’t help and see some suffering in him...

Lighter Sonic had dismissed her in a cold way... and she knew that couldn’t be... exactly... her Sonic either...

Could she see... Sonic in this light?

She froze at the foot of the three-splitting stairway... her hand up by her chest as she scanned his form delicately... careful to try and read his body language and figure out what was going on.

“...Sonic?” she called again, but he didn’t respond, only huffed and quickly sped to the far right stairway, raising a hand to the rails.

“Amy Rose... I should have known you wouldn’t know better.” He mocked under his breath... But he turned his face away from her, suggesting that maybe he thought she was in danger of himself... it almost seemed like the mock was a double-edged sword cutting into his own pride.

“I’m here... to talk.” She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head and trying to see him in the light. There wasn’t much of it... but some open windows on the bottom floor made her seeable, so... if she could get him to come down...

“Talking only ever ends with someone being proved right.” Darker Sonic gestured out his arm, haphazardly. He took two powerful steps down the stairway, eyeing her as he moved to the center and let go of the rail. His shoulder pointed to her intimidatingly, as though a warning... “And I’m not here to be proven anything.”

The harsh growl to his voice made her realize he was still compromised, and she closed her eyes to inch away. “I know you’re not bad, Sonic... So I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” She tried to be brave, taking her shaking hand by her chest and gripping it strongly with her other one, but it made her look more afraid...

“If you are Sonic... then I know there’s no evil in you. Not even a little bit.”

She jumped back when he sped all the way down to her, standing directly to her face with a strong presence of critique.

“Of course you would say that... while everyone else follows like lapdogs after my other half... you would come to the unwanted side.” He smiled as he moved closer, but she immediately paced herself back and adverted her eyes.

He stopped then, standing tall. “...Are you afraid?”

She shook her head, “I could never be afraid of you...”

A smile crooked to the side of his muzzle, but disappeared quickly. He moved forward again, “Then why not try to convince me... that I should fuse with my other half... and not the other way around.” he reached out to her, and she looked at his hand to see what he’d do.

He smirked and suddenly gripped behind her neck, pulling her back as the door smashed through and Lighter Sonic walked bristly into the room, dusting himself off in a pompous way from the dust and debris.

“Give her back.” He stated without much tone or even emotion. “Kidnapping never was something I admired.” he joked, but it completely lacked Sonic’s charm.

Having Sonic’s charm, Darker Sonic lowered his eyes and held Amy out in front of him, “So like you to jump to conclusions... As though you actually care about her.” Darker Sonic then threw Amy over his shoulder, pointing accusingly to his Lighter Self. “Let’s end this! I won’t be repressed anymore!”

“...You’re so impish.” Lighter Sonic shook his head, “Rash, a real bore. Let her go and I’ll prove I’m the only Sonic that need remain.”

“Now you sound like Metal.” scoffed Darker Sonic, letting Amy roll off his shoulder and arm to land to the floor.

She wasn’t hurt, just spun up a bit as she landed on her hands and knees.

When that happened though, Lighter Sonic’s expression finally changed and he twitched to hold a hand out to her, “Can’t you let her down a little easier!?” he demanded, “She’s a girl, after all!”

“She’s taken worse tumbles.” Darker Sonic stood in front of Amy, as though showing he wouldn’t let Lighter Sonic play the hero this time. “All you see me as is a villain to control... A urge to suppress... You’re embarrassed by how you are!” he hunched himself down, “Well, I’m not gonna take the backseat this time... I’m you, smart-one! And you can’t get rid of me that easily!” he took off and rammed a fist into his blocking arm.

“You’re endangering my friends... you think that’s acceptable!?” Lighter Sonic threw a kick out that Darker Sonic flipped over and landed with a bit of style.

“I didn’t do anything...” Darker Sonic grumbled as Lighter Sonic disregarded him and headed over to Amy, looking at him from over his shoulders as he was still rearing to fight. “Don’t ignore me!” he shouted out, which was like a loud boom that caused Amy to plug her ears.

She had never heard Sonic’s voice with such ferocity before...

Lighter Sonic bent to a knee and took her arms, helping her up. “You should get out of here.” he checked to make sure she was fine, and then like before, completely turned away from her.

It was strange... though he seemed caring, he didn’t really express it well. The Darker Sonic...

She remembered him reaching out to her, then pulling her to him to get away from the door blasting open...

They both cared... but in different ways, expressed that they didn’t want to hurt her...

Then they clashed into each other, Chaos energy slashed through the air as they collided each time, cutting some wood in the mansion and making the ghosts cower and the girl shriek at her home being so torn up.

Amy emphasized but she didn’t know what she could do... She knew that Darker Sonic had taken the two pieces of the split Master Emerald with him... so she started up the stairs, bracing against each deadly beam of light that exploded from the two’s fighting.

She had already learned there was no way to reason with them to stop fighting... from the previous times they had clashed, it was just no use no matter what anyone did.

How did Lighter Sonic know to come here..? Was there still a sliver of connection between the two..?

That would mean...

As she tried to climb the stairs, Darker Sonic saw her and immediately rushed to stomp a foot down by her reaching hand.

She gasped, withdrawing her once reaching hand as the blasts got so forceful that they shoved her to the ground.

“Where are you going?” He seemed so angry... but there was hurt in his eyes. “You’ll find nothing up here!”

Lighter Sonic then tackled into him, rolling and crashing them through the already rotting wood railing as they and the splintered remains of that side of the stairway gave out.

“Sonic!” Amy cried out, seeing the stairway collapsing and rushed to jump to the edge as half of it came down.

She pulled herself up and breathed hard, looking down to see them throw off the rubble and continue pounding into each other in an alarmingly hostile rate.

She then wondered... could it be Sonic?

“You almost hurt her!” Lighter Sonic argued, getting a punch in before Darker Sonic returned the same.

“You know full well I wouldn’t do that!” He then shoved against him, and they were evenly matched as their arms gripped the other’s shoulders and tried to push them back.

They gritted their teeth, one looking overly justified and the other with unbridled rage.

“Sonic... your emotions... your ideals... they clash too often, don’t they?” She whispered to herself, realizing that Sonic was a good man, but one that was like the rest of humanity... constantly dueling the two sides to yin and yang. One with passionate cause and the other with selfish needs.

She quickly continued her climb, though she desperately wanted to fall down with them and unlock them from their deadly feuding, she knew she couldn’t match the chaos power they both wielded at the moment.

Darting from room to room, she threw the doors open, not bothering to close them as the Sonics naturally followed in their brawling, trying to reach her.

“No!” Darker Sonic reached out to her but was blocked off and hit back by Lighter Sonic.

“Amy, get out of here!” Lighter Sonic gestured a hand out that slashed across from his chest, “It isn’t safe!”

Darker Sonic actually took the initiative and bolted pass Lighter Sonic, attempting to grab her and take her out of the mansion and warzone himself, but Lighter Sonic quickly intercepted.

They brawled down the hallway in vicious rolls and slams against the sides of the wall as they continued to pursue Amy, both with a similar goal but different ways to go about it.

‘There’s Sonic...’ Amy felt her eyes get watery in her fright at the mansion not able to handle the two fighting Sonics powers, but another part of her was determined to put them back together again.

She finally found it, at the end of the hallway, she burst open two large doors that revealed the Master Emerald on a balcony... upon closer look... she marveled that there was still a small piece that was conjoined, not severed yet.

She nodded, realizing this meant that they were, both, Sonic.

She turned around and spread her arms out, seeing the Sonics tackle into the balcony room and used her hammer to separate them from their wrestling, childish squabble and threw each of the other to opposite sides.

“That’s enough!”

The two panted but got up from the ground.

“This doesn’t concern you...” Lighter Sonic went for a gentler approach, but there was still somewhat a condensing hint in his actions. “Just leave this to me.”

“Stop!” Amy shoved her hammer towards him, making him pause in his pursuit to her. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”

He was stunned to hear that, his eyes actually emoting the look of being talked back too.

She glared at him, “I’ve had enough of your self-righteousness for one day.” she then looked to Darker Sonic, who was holding his arm and spat out to the side of himself.

“My thoughts exactly..!”

“And you...” Amy stepped in-between the two, making sure she could only see one side of Sonic at a time. “I never thought I’d say this to Sonic... but you need to calm down.” held out her hand without the hammer in it, gently trying to appease him looking tenderly towards him. “You’re hurting... you don’t want to fail, but you hate not being the hero... even though at times, you’re just a boy, and you want to do things your way, not the heroic way that everyone idealizes you to be.”

He looked up as though confused how she knew that.

“You were happy... weren’t you? When I was the one to turn my attention to you instead of to him, right?”

He remained silent, as though ashamed as he calmed his breathing, and looked away.

His eyes were scanning the floor wildly... as though worried she could see right through him.

There was a gentleness to the Darker Sonic she hadn’t seen before... but after putting the two on different sides of her eyes... she could start seeing traits line up.

“You’re neither good nor bad, either of you!” She looked back to Lighter Sonic. “You are duty bound, that’s why you hate the selfish freedom the other desires to the point of not listening to reason, but enacting your own idealistic views only makes you suffer too.” She saw him pause and as though swallowing his pride, lower his head and stare intensely at her.

“You can’t pretend you know me...” He seemed to be letting the words bounce off of him, or trying too.

While Darker Sonic was taking it to heart.

Realizing she couldn’t get through to Lighter Sonic so quickly, she turned back to the vulnerable side, “You both admitted you didn’t want to hurt me, right? Is that the only thing you two have in common?”

She saw the piece that was still intact, way at the bottom of the emerald’s pointed center... she knew the real Sonic was still poking out somewhere... and she had to find it.

Otherwise... she didn’t want to imagine what would become of him.

“It’s not all reputation, is it?” Amy looked to Lighter Sonic, seeing Darker Sonic close his eyes to shut this all out, as though too shy to admit and ashamed to admit his jealousy over the praise and admiration his other self, a mask he put on to be adored, always seemed to receive. “And you, carefree and usually always up for an adventure... you’ve been angry too long.”

She was trying to comfort both, but the hurt between both sides was so immense... he had been playing both sides all his life... how could she mend something so incredibly torn and damaged?

“But if I know anything about Sonic... it’s that his natural self is a hero.”

The two turned back to her, their heads moving as though that hit something deep within them.

She closed her eyes, trusting they wouldn’t punch each other out for at least a few seconds while she spoke. “The Sonic I admire... is like the wind. He can be cold at times, but also warm and inviting... he races through the fields and enjoys every second of his life. There’s never a dull moment, and as long as you can keep up, he’ll carry you along for the ride... He’s kind, but he’s also a force to be reckoned with.” she gestured her hammer and hand out to each of them, then looked at her own hands. “One hand grips a powerful speed and anger...” she grasped her hammer, “The other one... can’t stand to hesitate and leave someone in need. It can’t help but want to save and lift others up.”

The two seemed to be stilled a moment... and behind Amy... the torn Master Emerald began to respond to Sonic’s soul... it began to fuse slowly it’s torn self into a glowing, invisible torch that was repairing itself.

Amy turned around to see it, and both Sonic’s instinctively raced to either one of her sides, holding a hand out as though defending her from the sudden heat and lighted sparks from the Master Emerald.

Looking at them, she smiled.

Looking at each other, a slow roll of their eyes, they parted immediately. Walking away, Lighter Sonic put one hand to his hip as though trying to remain cool, while the other folded his arms and tsk’ed to the side of himself, not wanting to play nice.

Amy sighed, seeing that they still were a bit different... but very much the same.

“Will you at least try and find a happy medium?” She moved towards them and took their hands.

Darker Sonic let her gently sink her hand into his folded arms and coax out, very gently, his hand...

Lighter Sonic pulled away, sharply, but seeing Amy’s hammer disappear from being pointed at him... and now her hand pleading for his approval... he looked away and lightly placed his hand to her own...

Lighter Sonic looked nervous and tried to distance himself from the emotional tension... but also the overwhelming love that Amy was showing to both conflicting sides as Darker Sonic used his other hand to flick his own nose, sniffling as though trying to not look dorkish either.

Amy giggled at their familiar responses, “I think I see you for who you truly are now, Sonic.” she liked this, not having him hide his emotions, but being unable to stop his two sides from revealing themselves. “There’s a saying.” She gripped both their hands in a loving embrace, jolting them down a bit in her newfound cheeriness at them not fighting anymore, but actually listening. “That there’s two wolves inside the heart... and the one you feed, will be the winner and devour your heart.” She put their hands together, “However... Some asked, why not starve the two wolves? And another few asked, why not feed both equally, keeping an equilibrium between the two...”

The two Sonic’s saw their hands glowing... much like the light from the Master Emerald, slowly healing.

They finally looked at the other one of them... and Amy saw a neutral expression in each of their eyes...

She smiled and looked to each of them before back down to their hands, placing her hands below and above them, making sure they stayed together.

“But you know what the chief said? Feed your heart... and it will be too large for the wolves to devour.”

The Sonics looked back to her.

“I heard a different tale.” The Darker Sonic stated, “One is good and the other is bad.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that too.” Amy nodded, “But in this case.” She raised her head, “I think the wolves are just our conflicting personalities. One side of me, for example, loves to stay at home and get some chores done. Strange, for you and maybe most, right?” She giggled, watching the mending of the Master Emerald slowly increase in speed, and noticed at the corner of her eyes the two Sonic’s delicately intrigued and hanging off every word she uttered, as though this was the missing meaning they had always longed for in their chaotic inner-life. It gave her courage to continue, hoping that her words would feed Sonic’s soul, and let it form as one again. “But I enjoy cleaning, tending my garden, or even going out to shop for little things I may need in the week.” She then clasped her hands more firmly, but with added love over the two’s hands, as they looked down to action.

One acted a bit surprised, but the other grew flustered and adverted his eyes at her newly adjusted strength for keeping them together.

“However, sometimes I don’t have the energy for staying indoors all day or going through sales racks... sometimes, I really want my life to be less boring, more exciting, and so I race along after you and the others, wanting to do my part to be... even a small change... in helping the world be a better, safer place to live in.”

The Sonics... together... smiled.

In a strange noise, their voices seemed to overlap each other when they chuckled at her words, and she knew by the look of the Master Emerald that if she just kept their hands together for a bit longer... the Master Emerald would fuse his heart together again.

“Those two wolves... don’t devour me.” Amy stated, “Neither one is bad, it’s just the one I choose to pamper that day.” She nodded to her words. “Sometimes I don’t want to do either of them, and that’s not bad either! It doesn’t mean I’m lazy, but lazy days aren’t a bad thing too.”

She watched as she removed her hands... and both Sonics kept their hands on or under the other... letting them remain together.

“You two aren’t wolves,” She put her hands up to her mouth as she giggled more prominently now, “You’re just stubborn hedgehogs that don’t know what to do with yourselves! One of you wants to be aloof and peaceful, while the other wants to fight bad guys and save the world with his friends. Neither is bad, and both of you... are the sides of Sonic’s heart.”

She placed her hands to her chest and closed her eyes as the two Sonics happily stepped in unison towards each other, and with the last light of the Master Emerald fusing itself together, Amy kept her eyes closed with the giant beam of light till it faded.

“...Amy..?”

Amy slowly opened her eyes, and looked up to see her beloved’s face again.

“Thank you.” He stated, earnestly, putting a hand to his hip and looking tenderly towards her. “I never knew I needed that... pep-talk... thing.” he admitted, but goofily moved his hand in a funny way.

She giggled again, and he chuckled to her laughter.

“Let’s let the others know it’s all good now.” He nodded in the direction that made most sense, but then also tilted his head as though changing gears. “I thought no one would accept the silent, selfish desires of my heart like that, Amy... but you’ve shown me that I’m not bad for wanting certain things... I just want them... at different times.” his gentle smile was the one she loved to see, his new humility and self-awareness made him open but complete again, and she was overwhelmed with her feelings once again.

“Ahh!” She squealed in delight, covering her face and twisting her body away from him, lifting her leg up slightly and letting the tip of her boot keep her somewhat balanced.

“H-huh?” He looked curiously confused at her behavior, and leaned towards her, turning his body left and right to try and see why she was acting this way. “What’s the matter? Amy?”

“You’re so handsome!” she cheered, then parted her hands to flirtatiously lean her nose up by his, but still watching him pull back and not daring to touch hers with his. He made a face but she found it funny, seeing him wincing his mouth back like that, “Especially when you’re thanking me~” she teased, and he looked away, groaning at her antics and then rubbing his nose slightly with a wink towards her.

“You would still be you, even split in two, wouldn’t you, Amy?”

“Oh, one part would definitely be all over you, that’s for sure.” Amy leaned back and put her hands behind her back as Sonic suddenly looked a bit frightful.

“O-oh?” He was definitely turning sheepish, starting to walk passed her as the Master Emerald and him were still linked, so it up and lifted itself into the air and floated after him. “You don’t have to tell me the rest of it.” He kept his head down and eyes closed as Amy trotted off after him.

“Well, actually, without my self-restraint, I’d have probably carried you tied to the chapel by now.”

He groaned again as she skipped after him.

“Hmm... Maybe I should split myself. But would that mean you’re only married to a part of me... or..?” as she thought teasingly out loud, he finally turned around and gave her a scolding look, shaking his head as though she was taking the joke too far as Amy then laughed at him.

He seemed to give up and throw his arms up, shrugging, “Remind me to make sure that never happens to you then...”

“If I’m ever linked to the Master Emerald... and Shadow breaks his promise--which I know he wouldn’t!--but if he did... would you... do what I did for you and help put me--and the Master Emerald, of course--back together again..?” she asked, cutely, as he stopped to think a second.

“Ah! Really! You have to think about it!?”

“No... not that.” Sonic mused as he suddenly grinned back to her, “Just thinking... is there even a part of you that wouldn’t be all over me?”

Amy blushed and held her tongue after that, as Sonic laughed and laughed while making it out of the mansion, apologizing in a deep, forward bow to the ghosts, and then taking Amy’s hand to help her keep up his fast pace as they made it back to Knuckles to cut off the link.

Amy wanted to ride the Master Emerald, so he helped her up on top of it, and although it did float a little closer to the ground, she was able to hang on as Sonic took off at lightning speeds...

Later, when Amy was dusting off some of her home, the doorbell sounded off.

Leaning on her home’s sign, Sonic jokingly pretended he was looking at his nails.

“Which part of your heart are you feeding today, Amy?” He acted as though uncaring, but Amy was already growing in excitement at seeing him there, at her home, unexpectedly. “The part that likes to clean all day... or the side that likes a little excitement every now and then.” He put his hands behind his head, smiled cheekily to the ground with his eyes closed, before turning his head to her with a proud look on his face as he opened one eye to a subtle ‘winky’ expression~

[nagisasstunningpersonality]

TINSITOGS, a retrospective (happy birthday)

(yes I’m like two days too late I know I’m sorry) 

Why hello followers and ass class fandom, nice to see you there. I’m sure MOST people know about this, but in case you don’t, hi. On AO3 I’m better known as livixbobbiex, writer of maybe one of the most infamous Assassination Classroom fics. 

Which I mean like, if you haven’t read it yet you totally should it’s fanlore at this point I promise- 

Shameless plug that I don’t need aside, I felt that, on its first birthday since actual completion, I just wanted to share some things about it. Some tit bits about writing it, fun facts, maybe even some author advice TM. I appreciate that it’ll be super annoying if I do that in the tags, though, so that’ll all be under the cut. If you don’t want to read the whole post, then no matter what, thanks for the support in general! 

I also want to take the opportunity to announce that I’ve reopened my discord, so if you want to talk about my fics with me (and others), you’re more than welcome to join! (the link is here) 

The origin story 

I’ve stated this many times, I think, but TINSITOGS was never supposed to be a serious story. Taking you back, quite a long time, it actually started in a facebook DM with a friend. We used to come up with “head canons” with each other, which were basically just very condensed fanfiction plots over a multitude of text messages. I believe I was trying to cheer her up, and I tried to come up with some kind of plot line. 

At the time, I was fairly fresh to the Ass Class fandom, and I was joking about how there were no teen pregnancy melodrama fanfictions. It wasn’t that I wanted one, I just thought it was strange for a school centric anime with a bunch of ships to NOT have one. And, back then, I only really cared about karmagisa. So I just decided ‘right it’s happening’. The reason I decided to make it ABO was due to ‘it making sense’. Fun fact: it was almost written as AFAB trans Nagisa, but I decided against it as I didn’t rate my ability to handle it well back then. Looking back on it, I’m glad I made that decision. 

Over around two months, writing out the plot of this story took over my life a little bit. I had no idea where I was going with it, but I was having so much fun with the drama that I decided that Karma and Nagisa shouldn’t get together soon at all, and I had a lot of fun teasing my friend with the ‘will they won’t they’. It was only when I got bored that I invented this intense drama plotline to finish it all off. 

That period of time was a lot of fun. And whilst that friendship didn’t end well, I still have a lot to thank her for. She chose Daichi’s name because I had no idea, and she wanted to annoy me because I didn’t like Haikyuu. When I couldn’t decide on his hair colour, the purple was her suggestion because ‘why logic?’ Daichi speaking Korean was because of how much she liked Kpop. She even helped me choose the title of the actual fic, so there’s a lot you can thank her for, honestly. 

After I finished that story, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Whenever I daydreamed, I used to think about that damn Daichi Akabane, and how much I wanted to tell his story. I’d even come up with extra stuff to fill in a lot of the gaps, and developed his character in my mind. I decided that I was really desperate to write it down. Usually that worked when I had an idea I wanted to work through. 

I wrote the first chapter in late 2017, and then the next two as well. I just, kept going, and realised that I could go further still. TINSITOGS was never something that was supposed to be shared, but I decided I may as well. After all, that fated ‘teen pregnancy drama’ fic still didn’t exist, and I thought it would be funny to make it happen. 

Yes, as I’ve stated publicly a few times, TINSITOGS was a crack fic. If I wanted attention from it, it was infamy. We even joked about me cursing the fandom if it ever became the most popular fic (whoops?). What I wasn’t expecting was a bunch of people, in a fandom where at the time there were NO ongoing karmagisa fics and it was pretty dead, to really seem to enjoy it. It was enough to have me keep writing it, at least. I still don’t know at what point I actually started taking it seriously, but somehow I did, and the rest is history? 

The reception 

In my wildest dreams, I never thought that I would be the author of one of the most popular fics in the fandom. To this day, the amount of views TINSITOGS has is insanity to me. For the record, across all platforms it’s on today it has 238,000, which is literally a number I can’t even visualise anymore. Almost quarter of a MILLION. To this day on AO3, it’s the most viewed Ass Class fic that’s an ACTUAL ass class fic (the others are multi fandom compilations). So yeah, I achieved the original goal, I guess? 

Now you might be wondering, “omg the karmagisa fandom is fujoshi trash”. And, considering the origins, it is kind of funny. The thing is, though, TINSITOGS was written at incredibly good time. It was written when there were, essentially, very few long form Karma/Nagisa stories. If any other fics did get posted on occasion, they were usually just oneshots. I was also, at that point, writing very fast. A symptom of ADHD is becoming obsessively productive over certain things. Since I was able to get a 3k chapter out every few days/once a week, TINSITOGS was consistently bumped to the top of AO3′s default view. And some of those first few chapters were altered canon, and transcribing the canon dialogue didn’t take very long. The more views it got, the more people would read it out of sheer curiosity. 

I think it also helps that, at least after it started getting some positive feedback (which was honestly after the pre written chapters), I purposely tried to make it ‘not terrible’. I mean, I personally think the first chapter is pretty weak and if it wasn’t somewhat iconic to a lot of people I’d rewrite it. But in general, I purposely tried to make the world of ABO my own, to make it more accessible to those who don’t like that genre, and stay away from the inherently grosser stuff as much as possible. I genuinely do get comments about how I introduced people to the genre as a whole, still not sure if that’s a GOOD thing but hey, it happened. 

TINSITOGS turned into a lot more than just a joke. It turned into my favourite hobby. It turned into a research project (honestly, you would not believe the amount of mummy vlogs and legit scientific articles about child development I consumed). It turned into something that, at least I believe, was widely loved. 

Meaning 

I think it might be wrong to say that I don’t have AN idea of when I started to take the fic super seriously. For me, it was around the time someone commented something along the lines of saying my writing meant a lot to them, that they’d spent all night reading it and had been unable to put it down. 

Not to get too dark here, but I do have a past in writing a very long, somewhat popular fic (it’s still on my fanfic net profile if anyone’s interested, but I don’t recommend it). However, in the latter part of my teenage years, the depression struck. Writing was the love of my life, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore. Maybe I’d be able to muster an idea or even a chapter at the best points of that, but I’d never completely finished any story. Starting to write again was a huge step in my recovery, and one of the reasons I convinced myself that life was worth it was being able to impact someone’s life somehow. Even to this day, I still remember the fics I read when I was, like, thirteen. How much I still remember them, and how much they meant to be at the time. I wanted to be that writer for someone else. To be honest, it was actually Yuri!!! On Ice that got me out of the super bad, but I still never wrote anything of real consequence. TINSITOGS was the first time in a long time I actually committed to something. 

And, to be completely honest, there were a lot of times I was tired of it, and wanted to just quit. But, the thing was, I felt like people depended on me in a way. I got so many comments that were just FILLED with support, telling me how much they looked forward to every update. It wasn’t just empty words, either, a lot of the times these comments would be super engaged with the actual writing. I can’t even describe just how much they meant to me, how much I would look forward to reading everyone’s opinions. And then discord happened, which was a lot of fun. 

TINSITOGS went a lot further than I ever thought it would. There were comments, discussions, fan art, fan FIC (which is honestly incredible to me). Someone even added it to TV Tropes, at one point. Not to mention the Cards Against Humanity deck and quiz It makes me so unbelievably happy that I could inspire that much creativity, but it’s a two way street. It was all of that which inspired me to write, too. 

Writing 

The only real goal I actually had was aiming for around 3000 words per chapter. I had a whole facebook log of plot points as planning, and I was mostly just trying to expand on them into prose. I honestly thought that, at its completion, the entire fic would be around 100k words, if that. Not, at one point, being literally the longest ass class fic on AO3. 

There are a lot of aspects that were directly adapted from the original messages, and I tried to stay faithful to it more so at first, even if I later removed some of the pure crack. But the style was also vaguely similar, with the story being told mostly from Nagisa’s perspective with swaps to Karma when it made sense. All the main plot beats, too, are pretty much identical. The plus to this was I was able to add a lot of really fun foreshadowing, and I feel like it’s a fun reread because of it. 

Honestly though, if there’s a demand to release those OG message logs, I will. Mostly because it’s kind of funny, and interesting to see. Isogai and Nagisa were engaged at one point, even. 

Obviously, it changed somewhat. 3000 was the minimum length, and the time to completion was whenever it felt right. One of my big concerns was about pacing, so it took a lot more fleshing out and maybe ‘filler’ content for some of the main arcs to work. 

There’s parts of TINSITOGS I don’t think aren’t written that well, and some that I’m still super proud of. I think you can definitely tell there’s a gradual shift in style, and I get a lot more comfortable with writing them as characters as it goes along. To be honest, my pride for the fic overall is what it represents. 

It is funny to think about the places it got written in, though. I started it when I worked at McDonalds with no life direction, then it went through my first year of university with me. It’s been written in at least four countries. Aeroplanes, night clubs, long haul buses, a train through the Japanese southern coastline. Even the start of covid. TINSITOGS managed to see a lot. I even turned a scene in (the boat scene during the India chapter with altered names) to my university as a legitimate assignment. 

There were also a few messages I wanted to achieve, once I realised I had the platform to put them across. One of them was, obviously, ‘use protection kids’. It was important to me that I didn’t glamorise it too much, and I think that came across. I also wanted to dispute some of the issues with ABO, and subvert the consent issues as much as I could. An arc I really ‘liked’ writing was how abuse doesn’t always look the same way, and that it can be a drawn out change in behaviour. How the most important part of ‘being a good parent’ isn’t perfection, but genuinely loving and doing the best you can for your kid. How love doesn’t solve everything, and effective communication can take a very long time to learn and build a functional relationship. I mean, there definitely was a lot I tried to put in, and you’re free to interpret it all how you want. But, I like to think some people learnt some of these things, at least. 

Daichi 

Honestly, Daichi developed almost of his own free will. I had a good idea of his appearance, and that he was smart. Writing him from birth until around nine years old (older if you read the sequel fic) pretty much allowed that fluidity. It was really fun to explore a nature vs nurture development, and let his own characteristics speak for themselves. 

He’ll always have a special place in my heart. 

This is the first image I ever made. When I was trying to figure out what Daichi looked like, I honestly just edited Karma’s hair (pretty well, actually? I’m impressed with my past skill). That’s where the ‘he looks just like Karma’ meme kind of came from. 

This was the first image I actually created of Daichi. I THINK it was on rinmaru games mega anime creator or something, but it’s literally not available on the internet anymore as far as I can tell, so I can’t double check. This was in the pre-piccrew days. His eyes are closed because they didn’t have the right tone of goldish/silver.  

His sister, Kaguya, didn’t even exist originally, even though I decided on that ending pretty early on. Actually, she was going to be called ‘Irina’ due to some hijinks. Initially, when Karma found out about Irina’s pregnancy, she was going to get super emotional and mad at him and basically force him to name his first born daughter after her. Karma agreed to shut her up, never intending to have another child, so when the surprise second child later came along they had to live with the pain. However, to be honest I just forgot to write in the actual scene that set it all up, and I decided against adding it anywhere else. The name Kaguya was a very last minute decision, and it was a chance for me to explore some ideas that didn’t fit with Daichi’s character. 

Interestingly too, Daichi and Nao were never intended to be a thing. I only decided that towards the VERY end. Even though the reason I named Nao that was because of a ship I had in a J Drama (Good Morning Call). It just kind of ended up happening because I won myself over with imagining the cute. 

The music 

I used to write with a lot of background music, though not all the time. Particularly towards the start, there was a lot that didn’t really make sense thematically, yet I would write to a lot. 

Here’s a link to the spotify playlist if you want it it’s basically all the ones I noted I’d listened to a lot. Not including the smut ones, though, I have a whole playlist for that. 

Some of the notable ones: 

Five String Serenade - the first scene I wrote of the entire fic, in Chapter 25 New Year Time where they fell asleep cuddling. 

Cosmic Love - when I wrote Nagisa’s love confession scene in hospital (I also wrote this pretty early on) 

Northern Downpour (though it was actually a cover by Emma Blackery) - The chapter after Daichi’s born (30) 

When The Party’s Over -  Confession Time Third Period, Chapter 69. I literally listened to this song on REPEAT when I planned and wrote the kind of ‘break up’ scene, and it’s one of the few parts that made me cry writing. 

Turning Page - I know I said no smut, but this song actually gave me the idea to have the “I love you” in chapter 108 be less on a whim and actually more built up. In the original plan, Karma really did just say it without thinking. I’m glad I changed that.  

Bury Me Low and Numb - pretty much all I listened to when writing the last few chapters, because Evil Nagisa core. So much so that Bury Me Low was in my top 2020 songs rewind. 

As for the title, there’s actually quite a funny story. I had no idea what to call the fic, and when that happens I usually just try and find some song lyrics. I really wanted to use something from ‘October’ by the Broken Bells. Not only because it’s my favourite song (has been for years), but thematically it really worked. The issue was, it worked as the WHOLE song, there were no individual lyrics that captured everything. And, if they did, they didn’t flow very well. And naming the fic ‘October’ would have been weird for a lot of reasons. There Is No Sweeter Innocence That Our Gentle Sin really was just plucked randomly, in a desperate search to find any snappy lyrics from any song that had some kind of meaning. After a bit of discussion, we settled that it kind of worked... if Daichi is innocent and they committed a sin or something. It also wasn’t the most obvious lyric from the song (Take Me To Church if anyone doesn’t know) so I just went with it. It works out, I think, because TINSITOGS turned out to be a pretty good acronym and pronounceable word in its own right. 

The merch  redbubble drama 

It’s a well known fact that I’m not very good at art. However, I decided to try pixel art because it seemed the easiest to not mess up. I made Karma and Nagisa, before deciding to also give Daichi a try. 

This, to this day, is the only good quality art of Daichi that I actually own. The only one I’m actually happy sharing and thinking it doesn’t look terrible. As much as I love people sending me fanart, it’s not ‘my property’, right. 

So, I was kind of joking about TINSITOGS having merchandise. At first I just made two funny quote things, and uploaded it to redbubble. I was never intending to actually make money from this, and I’d agreed to myself that if I did, I would just donate it to charity. I was joking with the quotes, but since I had this artwork I figured I may as well uploaded. Separately, there was also an image that had pixel Daichi next to pixel Nagisa and Karma (which I also created). 

Aside from showing up in a few people’s adverts across the internet, there was no real harm with this. In fact, I didn’t make money anyway. It was just... more the joke of it existing. I did, however, buy myself a Daichi phone case, which is one of my favourite possessions. 

The funny ‘drama’ comes in when they got taken down due to copywrite. Sure, the one with Nagisa and Karma, I understand. But the other three literally had no mention or anything to do with Assassination Classroom, aside from being from a fanfiction. So basically, someone who owns those rights claimed my OC as theirs. Which makes Daichi canon? Whatever the case, I found this hilarious don’t worry. 

How has TINSITOGS changed my life? 

This is quite a strange thing to think about. Because, in a lot of ways, it really hasn’t. As I’m sure a lot of people know, I don’t really consider myself to have any real ‘fame’, despite the impressive numbers. Whenever I tell people in my personal life, they seem to think I’m some sort of internet celebrity, but that’s never been the case for me. I mean, it’s hardly a cultural phenomenon. 

In a lot of ways, I’d much rather befriend someone than have them admire me. Possibly because being someone’s inspiration is kind of weird... I’m just an awkward duck who likes to write after all. I don’t mind it, though. I genuinely find it an honour, even if I don’t necessarily agree. I also want to take this time to say that if anyone ever wants to talk or message me, you’re more than free to do so. I’m usually super casual with people who do that, I promise. 

TINSITOGS was the first story I ever finished in the way I truly wanted to. Start to end, a full narrative. And it took a LOT. There were so many times I almost felt like quitting, or took super long breaks. For me, ADHD queen, actually finishing something was a huge deal. And I know I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t owe it to everyone who read it, and myself, to see it through. You know like, if I were to die tomorrow, at least I’ve left something behind. 

In a lot of ways, it’s changed me for the better. It’s helped me develop my writing styles, and way of thinking. It encouraged me to become more active in the fandom, and develop some important friendships. I always feel like my Tumblr and Fanfiction ‘known’ factor is separate. I think most of my Tumblr following is more to do with my theories/Japanese context research if anything, for example, but I know I wouldn’t be so interested in that if TINSITOGS hadn’t lead me to deeply examine character and really look into analysing source material for clues. I also think there’s just... a lot of myself in it. 

I was 17 years old, when I first came up with the idea. I finished the story when I was 20. Now, at the time of writing, I’m 21. That time has seen some pretty significant changes - just in general life facts and my own personal human development. For me at least, a lot of that was pretty turbulent, and TINSITOGS stands as a time capsule for that, in a way. 

I know I gained a lot of confidence, and it affirmed to me that writing is what I love. Telling stories and sharing them is what I love. 

Conclusion

Do I think TINSITOGS is an outstanding piece of writing, or the best fic ever? No. I really don’t. It’s strange to say because I definitely spent a lot of time on it, but it’s not like I put my full unbridled efforts into the story. I don’t fully plan, use a beta, or even read through on my own. And that’s okay - that’s not what I write fanfiction for. Fanfiction is my place to have fun with characters and stories I like, without the pressures of having to stand on my own complete originality. Yes, I’m fully confident that I can write at a “higher quality”, if I really wanted to. I’m also aware that some authors put their full effort into their fics, and that’s just as valid! 

It feels odd to say this about my own writing, but I honestly think there’s just something in this story. It might not be written in the best prose ever, and the premise might be kind of dumb for a lot of people. But, I think, there’s some part of this fic that managed to grab people. Somehow, at some point, many readers get captured into the emotions and so drawn in that ‘they just have to finish it now!’ Again, I’m not sure myself how I actually achieved that. Of course, that won’t apply to everyone, but I do feel there’s some truth in it. And it makes me happy, to have caused that. 

If TINSITOGS is your favourite fic, or if you genuinely think it’s the best story you’ve read, then thank you. I really appreciate your support, and I’m happy to have been a part of your life, I guess. I know how much fanfics can mean to a person, and that’s why I’m not going to take it down, or edit it at all. And it’s fine too, if you loved the fic for a while and moved on -i t happens. Whatever the case, I’m very honoured to have been able to occupy a moment of your life. Or if you find this fic in 10 years time, even, I still wholly appreciate you. 

This story was incredibly important to me, and thank you for reading if it was ever important to you too. 

You may ask, what now? Well, this is only intended to be a detailed look back for whoever’s interested, and it’s likely the only one I’ll actually do, a year after completion. Of course, if you ever want to ask me anything or just discuss the story, you’re honestly good to contact me in whatever way I have available. 

I’m still writing my ongoing stories, of course, despite taking a small break due to the university work load. I fully intend to complete the stories I’ve already started to tell, at least. After that... I’m not sure if I’ll still write fanfiction. Don’t panic, this isn’t a ‘I’m quitting writing’ thing. I may, however, have bled the Karmagisa genre a bit too dry at that point. Who knows? I am pretty interested in writing something original for once, so maybe that’ll work out. 

For now, at least, thank you to anyone who read this fic. To anyone who commented, liked, or interacted with me over it. To anyone who created or learnt from it. I’m really glad that I got to share this story with you all, and ultimately left some kind of mark, no matter how big or small. 

Happy birthday, TINSITOGS. I had a lot of fun writing you. 

[anntoldst0ries]

Diagnosis

I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who read my previous fic and left such kind comments. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate this!

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Vicky Valentine)

Word Count: 2,911

Summary: Dr Ramsey attempts to diagnose the most difficult case in his career...his own.

Warnings: None! A lot of introspection again and hints of angst :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan Ramsey considered himself a brave man.

He always had the courage to say whatever he wanted to say or what had to be said - be that a terminal diagnosis, savaging someone’s speech at a medical conference (only if the speaker was talking nonsense, that is), scolding an intern - you name it. 

With years of experience under his belt, Dr Ramsey excelled at the “art” of saying the most horrible, unpleasant and inconvenient things. It was a process he took to pieces and mastered every tiniest part.

He knew exactly what they were whispering behind his back in the hospital corridors. Dr Ramsey is a bully. A ruthless cynic. No one survived more than 3 minutes of his tirades without bursting into tears. Or, as some of the interns so lovingly put it, he was “the only survivor of a heart transplant”. The last remark had been conveyed to him by Baz, who found it hilarious…and so did Naveen. It took one deadly look to silence Baz forever, however Naveen used every occasion to remind his protégé of hospital’s favourite joke:

‘How’s your heart, Ethan?’

‘Good, why are you as—‘ Ethan didn’t have a chance to finish answering the question, interrupted by Dr Banerji who was in convulsions.

‘God, Naveen, for such a bright mind and one of the best doctors in the world, I still find it hard to believe that you have a sense of humour of a 5 year old’

‘There is nothing wrong with some joy, Ethan. You should try it sometimes, it may do you good.’

Similar conversations took place on a regular basis, but they always ended with Ethan rolling his eyes and Naveen sighing. Younger doctor would never, ever tell his mentor off, he respected him too much. So Ethan let Dr Banerji have some fun at his expense from time to time.

But, truth be told, he kept his emotions at a leash and he was good at it, because there wasn’t a thing in Ethan’s life that he wasn’t good at. Regardless of what it was - saving people’s lives or emotional self-deprivation.

That’s why reminiscing past 2 years was so hard for accomplished diagnostician. He couldn’t help but think that he’s lived more during this time than he’s lived during his whole life. His existence wasn’t a boring one, he loved his job and the cases that the team had to crack were mostly complex and thus exciting. There was also a sense of fulfilment and servitude to a greater cause.

As a kid, Ethan wanted to be a detective. It all started with Alan buying his son one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s books. There was no hidden intention in this choice - Alan simply ran out of book ideas, Ethan was literally gobbling up the books at his disposal and was thirsty for more. Therefore, Mr Ramsey picked picked one of the thickest positions available in the book shop, with hopes it will keep Ethan occupied for at least a couple of weeks. Oh, how wrong he was - 5 days later his son was already begging for more.

Sherlock Holmes and Hercules Poirot quickly took the top spot on the list of Ethan’s childhood heroes. He was obsessed with their investigative methods, their sharp minds that captured even the tiniest of details and how missing those nuances would make solving a mystery a lot harder, if not impossible. 

That’s why he became obsessed with details. He analysed, compared, observed and noted down everything around him with deliberation. After a while, Ethan realised that these skills come handy in various areas of life. He could read people and to a degree foresee what their next move was going to be. If he wanted to, he could probably try and influence their decisions too. If it wasn’t for Alan’s upbringing, this particular skill might have taken his life onto a dark track, but fortunately he utilised it for greater good.

Having this sort of insight made him very self-conscious and he never turned away from reliving his own decisions and behaviours, which helped him become a better doctor, every single day. But he never wallowed in the mud of emotions, instead always operating on facts.

But for the past couple of months, this process became a pure torture. 

You know what they say, the devil is in the detail. And the devil it was indeed. 

The devil that would be the death of Ethan was 5’4, had raven hair, plumped lips, mesmerising eyes and a captivating laugh. 

Suddenly, he heard the devil’s voice in his head.

‘Are you pinching the bridge of your nose right now?’ 

He was.

‘God dammit!’ - shouted Ethan, so loud that he startled poor Jenner, who resigned from occupying the sofa and ran straight to his bed. Even the retriever, in his doggy wisdom, knew that when his master was upset, it was best to stay out of his sight and wait for the storm to pass.

Whenever Dr Ramsey had a serious dilemma, he would subtly join his thumb and index finger to pinch the gentle skin between eyes. She knew of this somewhat subconscious habit and teased him about it countless times. 

With most people, the whole observing and reading process was a one-sided game. For majority of mortals, Ethan was a closed book and they had no idea how to open, let alone read it. But not Rookie. She saw right through him. Ethan considered himself a riveting mystery thriller before, if we’re talking comparisons, but right now he was probably a cheap Harlequin. How did he sink so low in practically no time?

The answer came before he was even able to finish the question.

He was hopelessly, utterly and irreversibly in love with Dr Vicky Valentine.

“Victoria….” he whispered. He knew her full name, he’s read her bloody application and her employee file many, many times. More than he’d ever care to admit. Neither him nor anyone else addressed her by her full name. She always introduced herself as Vicky and even mentioned to him, June & Baz one time that she considered herself too young to be a bearer of such gracious name. But when the name fell out of his lips, it made perfect sense. Victoria. Victory. After a long, tough and heartbreaking battle, she’s won all of him. And man, wasn’t she fighting fiercely. 

She was so much like him, and yet so different. Patients loved her, and for a good reason - not only was she amazing at her job, but also so genuinely caring about every patient she met. Somehow, she was able to see past people weary of their conditions, instead she always noticed the human beings with their unique stories. Thanks to her, patients never felt like sickness became their identity, but merely a stage in their life that shall soon pass. 

Hospital staff adored her as well, she had time and a huge smile for everyone; her bright aura lit up every room she walked into and was a pleasure to be around. 

Those who knew Ethan a bit better or worked with him were aware of the insanely high standards he was holding himself to. And it would have been fine if they only applied to him, but he held everyone else to the same standard too. It was his buffer. Most gave up without even trying, it was humanly impossible to live up to such expectations. And that was the goal. Dr Ramsey wanted no distractions and if anyone wanted so much as approach him, they had a giant wall to jump over first.

But the young intern wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Dozens of people before her stood in front of the wall and tried to figure out how to get in. And she… she just found a tiny gap and squeezed right through. Before Ethan realised what’s going on, it was already too late. And she wasn’t even fully aware of what she’s done.

Like air, she’s entered his life imperceptibly, filling every space until there was nothing else. She was in every reflection he saw, every smile, every freaking thing a reminder of her, one way or another.

He was completely under her spell, enchanted, drunk in the thought of her.

The most ironic part was that if he went by his unreasonable standards, she’d never stand a chance.

She was messy, she was a klutz, she laughed too loud and rounded her eyes like a child when something seriously excited her.

And yet, something about her made him break all of his rules, lower his guard and re-think everything he’s ever thought he knew and believed in. 

Obviously, he wouldn’t be himself if the occupational quirk did not kick in at some point. Whatever the cause, Dr Ramsey had to get to the bottom of it, no matter how many tests did he have to run on his mind and heart. He needed the diagnosis so he could start the treatment. But his sharp diagnostic skills which made him a famous man, suddenly decided to go on unplanned vacation and it looks like they were not coming back anytime soon.

Ambivalence became Ethan’s newest companion. Some days, he thought he was going to blow his brains out, the others he was strangely content and did not want to analyse anything, things were good just as they were.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly lost. He felt like Jon Snow, he knew nothing. It wasn’t a result of one event, rather a chain reaction. Starting with Naveen getting sick, the inability to figure out what was wrong with his mentor made Ethan seriously doubt his capabilities as a doctor. Then, Louise Ramsey made a surprise reappearance after having walked out on him and his dad 25 years earlier. When he was little, his dad use to say that wherever Louise goes, trouble follows and it wasn’t any different this time. She brought company - insecurity, sorrow, resentment - to name just a few. Ethan felt like someone ripped a band aid from his heart and painfully reminded him that all the wounds are still alive and never really healed. 

And finally, Edenbrook. The place that others saw as walls, glass, beds, people in white coats, sickness, illness, death. To him, it was much, much more. The hospital had almost a transcendental dimension. It was here that Ethan’s transition had been completed. He shed his old skin and became Dr Ramsey, the person he was always meant to be.

That’s why Edenbrook closing hit him so hard - a part of him was about to die and be buried beneath years of sweat, tears and effort. It was probably the hardest thing to come to terms with in the 37 years that he’s been walking on the surface of the Earth.

And throughout all these events, she was with him.

She never gave up on Naveen and Ethan knew that there was more to it than just saving Edenbrook’s most prominent doctor. He believed, he wanted to believe that she did this for him too. 

The memory brought shame that drained off him like unpleasant wave of cold water. Ethan never really forgave himself for just laying in his bed like a drunk bag of potatoes, whilst she was busting her gut to solve the case, even though she had ethics hearing to prepare for. A hearing that could make or break her whole career, before she even had a chance to start.

Dr Ramsey would like to think they were alike. But as a matter of fact, she was a much better person than him.

Then, with his mother in the picture, she never told him what to do. Even though he asked, many times. He hoped someone can actually make the decision for him, because it hurt so much to even think about this, let alone decide what to do next. But she never did. She was just there and by simply being, she empowered him to make his own, informed decision. 

She was there, like no one else was in his entire life. Not to take anything from Naveen, who had tremendous effect on Ethan’s life - but this was completely different.

She penetrated his soul.

She made him feel.

Love.

It was the first time he used this word in a long, long time. 

And maybe, quite possibly, for the first time in his life he used it with intention. 

He thought he felt it once before. 

When he was a student at Johns Hopkins, Ethan met Camille. She was a year older than him, with angelic voice and looks, the cascade of blond locks surrounding her gentle facial features like a halo. 

What impressed him was that she kept hitting up on him, not the other way round. He’s had his mind set on graduating as a top student in his class and then getting the best residency there was - in Edenbrook hospital in Boston. It was either him or someone else. University romances were of no interest to him, or so he thought. After all, he’s just gone past his teenage years and was relatively new to the world of intimate human desires. As much as he tried to push them away, he had needs and his hormones were still a giant part of his decision-making process, doesn’t matter how hard he tried denying it.

Also, there was something motherly about her and she reminded him of the woman who left him when he was just a boy. It was completely fucked-up, he hated his mother and yet a memory of her and how he’d once do anything for her was tattooed in the insides of his brain.

Ethan and Camille shared a passion for medicine, music and opera. A few times, he was close to bringing her down to Providence, to introduce her to Alan, his father. But there was this weird voice in his head stopping him. 

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t overly surprised when one day he walked on Camille. In his bed. Screaming and making other explicit sounds…except, he wasn’t the igniter. It was none other than his best friend at the time, Tobias. Ethan would never forget the jealous glance he shot him with when he first brought Camille to one of the student parties. And then things got worse. Ethan and Tobias always competed and for a long time it was a fuel that kept them both going. But when someone wins, someone has to lose. Neither of them was good at losing or accepting the failure. 

Ethan was doing better than his best friend. Not significantly better, the difference between them had usually been slight, but it was there. Tobias couldn’t swallow this. Not only was Ethan doing better than him, he also had one of the most beautiful students at Hopkins by his side. Jealousy started to spread inside him like a wildfire and since his attempts to beat Ethan at school were futile, he decided to make use of his other skills. Tobias was a born flirter and charmer. He often used to say that no woman can resist his spell and that “where there’s a woman - there’s a way.”

Dr Ramsey never told anyone, but having found out that his girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend was sort of relief. Call it sixth sense, an intuition… subconsciously he sort of felt that she wasn’t a girl for him. As for Tobias, he was tired of the fight….of Tobias fighting with him, that is. Ethan wasn’t fighting, he was just a better student and was going to be a better doctor. He was tired of petty competition and how the toxin poisoned their relationship.

So they actually made him a favour and helped him killed 2 birds with 1 stone - he was saved from having an awkward break-up conversation that he’s never went through before and he now had every right to hate Tobias. He didn’t really, as such feelings were a waste of energy, but a week later Tobias moved out of their shared apartment and they never really spoke again.

After Camille, he was only in a brief relationship once. With Harper. He deeply admired and respected her, but when things started getting too serious (from her side), he distanced himself. And so, for a couple of years to follow, they were on the off and on again terms. They went through countless friends with benefits stages, but he genuinely enjoyed her company. They just never wanted the same things, which became more and more evident as she was getting older. And he respected her too much to mess her around.

Ethan’s career was everything to him and he accepted the fact that falling in love and having a family is just not in the cards for him.

Or so he thought.  

Dr Valentine entered his life one September morning and hasn’t left ever since. And, hell, hasn’t he tried to erase her. To make her hate him. To draw a line between work and personal life. He could honestly say that he tried everything.

For the love of God, he ran to fucking Amazon! He tried to hide from all things Dr Valentine, like a fool who forgot one of the most basic rules of life: there is no running away from yourself. 

Tag list (please let me know if you wish to be removed): @terrm9 @openheart12 @openheartthot @rookie-ramsey @alwaysmychoices @brooks-eden @drethanramslay @starrystarrytrouble @justanotherrookie @caseyvalentineramsey@incorrectopenheart @heauxplesslydevoted @perriewinklenerdie @mercury84choices @archxxronrookie @renasalek-blog @maurine07 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @lemonmiddleton @tsrookie @choicesfan10 @dr-colossal-pita @queencarb @gryffindordaughterofathena @qrkowna @aarisa-frost @choicesficwriterscreations

[pixiegrl]

Baby I'll Never Leave If You Keep Holding Me This Way

Calum stops by the flower shop to pick up Michael for date night. 

Hello I'm back with more blurbs from the Flower Shop/Tattoo Parlor AU even though I have not written the whole thing. This was for an anon prompt on Tumblr for "So, can we go eat" with Malum (which tumblr ate im sorry anon i hope you see this). @tigerteeff asked if someone would write a Malum fic for cozy hoodie Malum after the Twitter video today so I wrote this for them. Love you Heath, collector of Trans 5SOS. and thanks to @blackbutterfliescal for editing this for me love you!

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646975

Calum makes his way into Over The Rainbow looking for Michael. It’s late Friday afternoon and the only thing Calum really wants is to find the object of his affection, go get dinner, and go home. He’s been sitting all day, hunched over doing tattoo after tattoo. Every part of Calum hurts. Michael was supposed to meet him at Do Momento Mori when they closed almost 30 minutes ago and Calum still hasn’t seen them. Michael’s never on time, unless there’s food involved and the flower shop closed around the same time they did so Calum’s a little worried. He hasn’t seen Luke or Michael leaving the shop either, so Calum finally grabbed his hoodie and bag and made his way over.

Luke’s at the front counter when Calum comes in, counting out the money in the register, curls pulled back into a bun, humming along to the Taylor Swift song that’s playing over the speakers. He looks up when Calum comes in, surprised, glancing at the clock. 

“Aw shit, they’re late aren’t they,” Luke mumbles, straightening up. Calum can hear the sound of his back cracking from over by the door, wincing.

“Yeah. I was getting worried.”

“Michael wanted to take a nap before seeing your date tonight. I told them I’d wake them up in time, but well, clearly I got distracted with closing things too,” Luke mumbles. He’s flushed and clearly embarrassed. Calum smiles, shrugging as he crosses the store.

“Well, this way I get to surprise them. You should probably head out though. Ashton’s nervously fidgeting in the shop and he needs someone to go remind him to eat,” Calum says. Luke perks up, smiling at Calum. Calum rolls his eyes, fondly. It took far too long for Luke and Ashton to finally admit they liked each other and that they wanted to date and now that they’re boyfriends, they’re insufferable. 

Calum passes behind Luke, heading into the back room of the store. He finds Michael curled up on the couch they keep in the back. They’re curled into a tight ball, hands tucked under a pillow they’re using. Michael’s clearly fast asleep, chest raising and falling softly, fringe in their eyes. Calum drops his bag by door, crossing the room. He crouches down in front of Michael, ignoring the cracking sound of his knees to reach out and brush the fringe away from Michael’s eyes. They blink their eyes open slowly, startling a little when they realize that Calum’s in front of them.

“Am I late?” Michael mumbles, reaching up a hand to rub at their eyes. Calum’s hopelessly charmed by Michael’s too large sweatshirt sleeves, curled over their hands in sweater paws. 

“Only a little.”

“I wanted to be on time. Show you I was responsible,” Michael whines a little. They bury their face into the pillow. Calum chuckles a little.

“I can’t fault you for sleeping a little more. You deserve it if the dark circles mean anything,” Calum says. Michael turns their head, looking at Calum, wary.

“Still. I’m not a very good partner if I’m late to everything,” Michael mumbles. Calum shrugs.

“Well I snore and you’re late to everything. We all have our strengths and weaknesses,” Calum says. Michael huffs out a laugh, rolling their eyes. Calum stands up, nudging at Michael’s shoulders.

“What?”

“Move. I wanna cuddle.”

“Why? Thought you wanted to get dinner together.”

“I’ve been sitting upright all day. Laying down sounds amazing right now,” Calum says. Michael sighs dramatically, rolling over slightly. Calum climbs over them, wiggling behind Michael on the couch. He curls up behind Michael, running his fingers through Michael’s hair. They hum lightly, leaning back into Calum’s chest. They lay there for a few minutes, breathing in sync so quietly that Calum thinks Michael might be asleep until they speak up.

“You’re warm,” Michael mumbles, leaning back into Calum. Calum smiles, keeps stroking their hair. There’s a lull until Michael speaks up again. 

“What are we?”

“What do you mean?” Calum asks.

“Like dating? Are we together? Casually seeing each other? I know labels are stupid or whatever, but I want to know before we go any further. I can’t get invested if you’re not serious,” Michael says. 

Calum pauses, thinking about it. If Calum’s going to be honest, he already assumed they were dating. He knows they’ve never spoken the words aloud, haven’t put the words to their budding relationship, Calum already considers Michael his partner. When Calum talks about them to his mum, he calls Michael his partner. He says it in stores and at restaurants when the check out people ask who he’s buying things for. Calum’s not sure what the feeling in his chest is whenever he sees Michael, when they burst into the tattoo parlor to bring Calum mid-day coffee or bring Calum food on longer days, when they sit with Calum while he sketches, asking questions about the art he’s making, the techniques he’s using. If Calum had to guess, he would say that the feeling in his chest is love. It’s pure, unadulterated love at its finest. Calum’s hesitant to put the word on something so new, but it feels right. The shape of the words on Calum’s lips, the idea of love is so close he can almost taste it. Calum fantasizes sometimes, when it’s late at night and he’s trying to fall asleep, what it would be like to have Michael with him all the time. What it would feel like to fall asleep with Michael, curled up around them, pressing close. What it might be like to wake up with them, make breakfast together, walk to work together. Calum knows it’s too early, but he wants a full life with Michael, for as long as Michael will have him.

“I want to date you. I want to hold your hand in public and call you my partner when we’re out. I want to go on date nights and kiss you at the movie theater and I just....I want to be your boyfriend Michael. If you’ll have me, I want to be your boyfriend,” Calum says.

“You can’t just hit me with that kind of confession while I’m comfortable and warm and cuddling with you. I’m emotionally compromised enough as it is,” Michael whines, covering their face with their hands.

“Well you asked! Don’t ask if you don’t want the answer,” Calum says, laughing.

“Terrible, terrible, terrible. I can’t believe my boyfriend is awful and mean and a dork,” Michael bemoans dramatically.

“So, does that mean you want to date me?”

“Unfortunately, I very much want to be your partner. I want to hold your hand and call you my boyfriend and kiss in public until Luke whines at me to stop.”

“Good. Glad to know we’re on the same page with embarrassing our friends with our relationship,” Calum says, laughing. They lay together on the couch for a few moments until Michael’s stomach rumbles. 

“So, can we go eat?” Calum asks, running his fingers through Michael’s hair. 

“No, cozy,” Michael mumbles, burrowing into Calum’s chest. Calum sighs.

“Come on Mikey. I won’t even make you eat a veggie. We can order pizza and cuddle on the couch and watch a movie.”

“But you’re warm and the couch is cozy,” Michael whines.

“It’ll be even warmer and cozier back at my place. I’ll make you pancakes in the morning since it’s a late shop day.”

“Chocolate chips?” Michael asks, cracking one eye open to gaze at Calum.

“Yes, I’ll even add chocolate chips.”

“Fine, I guess going home with my boyfriend won’t be such a tragedy,” Michael says dramatically. They wiggle out of Calum’s hold, rolling over to face Calum. Michael leans forward, pressing a kiss to Calum’s nose. Calum grins, leaning forward to press one to their nose.

“Glad to hear it. Love you,” Calum says before he can stop himself. He freezes, heart pounding, unsure of what Michael’s going to say in response to Calum’s sudden confession.

“Love you,” Michael hums back. They burrow back into Calum’s chest, head tucked under his chin. Calum knows they should sit up, get going, so they can get food and do this at his place under covers and warm, but right now, Calum’s content to just lay on this couch with Michael curled up in their love.

[bluespiderlilies]

Pillars x Modern reader? Please if it alright with you

hi!! i was going to say no tbh bc my rules say only two charas max but,, i'll let it slide i guess lmao 

modern! pillars x reader!hcs: 

himejima gyoumei:

okay so like,, in a modern au i like to imagine that gyoumei would be a sculptor hehe (yes, i know, not v original).

and you a painter!! 

and like,, the two of you are secret admirers of one another 

like he would often see you at the art gallery he frequents just staring at his sculptures & just,,, looking at them w pure awe?

 which he finds so heartwarming & makes him super motivated & happy in what he does!! 

and at art auctions when he buys your paintings? you feel like fainting from happiness bc the guy you admire so much BUYS YOUR PAINTINGS?!?! 

so then one day the two of you just,, bumped into each other coincidentally while at the art gallery the two of you go to often

the two of you chat comfortably before asking for one another's numbers & discuss about a potential coffee date!! 

and so, after that & a couple more dates, the two of you became official!!

iguro obanai:

hmm i feel like snek boi would be a tattoo artist 

you a florist (FUCK i hate my unoriginal ideas) 

your shops are right beside each other's haha

you sometimes talked but it was only about small awkward things like the weather BYE

but then one day you got locked out of your shop oops

so you,, sort of stayed w/ obanai in his shop until the person you called to help came

 which he didn't mind at all btw

surprisingly, the two of you got along really well? not to mention you guys liked a lot of the same things & had similar hobbies??

 from then on the two of you were kinda Whipped™™™™™ for each other lmaoo,, you often went to each other's shops when you guys didn't have any customers/had a slow day 

so then you decided to confess and!! he accepted your feelings & said he felt the same way!! (screams) & ever since then the two of you began to date uwu

rengoku kyoujurou:

okay so kyoujurou in the kimetsu academy au is a history teacher, right? 

and you are the english teacher!! 

honestly the entire school love the two of you so much

 and they even ship the two of you super hard\ but!! the thing is? the two of you are already dating, haha~ the students just don't know that yet

so it's hella amusing when the two of you witness them trying to set the two of you up with one another 

so you and kyoujurou had a mutual agreement to just act innocent and go along w what they do (which the students totally fall for)

until one day you accidentally let it slip (whoops) 

"hi guys, sorry for being late, kyoujurou won't be here today 'cause he's sick and i had to take care of him for a bit—oops did i just spill everything?"

 from then on the entire school knew the two of you were dating (and thank god, bc now you guys could be affectionate in public lmaoooo)

tokitou muichirou:

muichirou would be like that quiet, asocial first year *wheeze*

& like...there's tons of rumors of him being rude n closed off to others that try to be friends w him

n you're like!! haha!! fuck those rumors i want to be friends w him!! (plus he's cute wink wink) 

so, you try to approach him by sitting in front of his desk during lunch, or talk to him front time to time in your close (surprise!! the two of you are in the same class) 

he ignores you tbh & even tries to push you away,,, but you're super persistent (in an annoyingly,, cute way?) 

but like one day, you're absent from class two days in a row, and he's like,, fuck?? is it my fault??? did i do something to them?? is (name) not here bc of me?? i miss (name) surprisingly a lot and idk why???

and like for the two days he feels like he's fuckin hallucinating or some shit bc he always turns his head to the direction he expects you to be, or like hears your voice even if you're not there? 

but then you came after those two days, and he immediately comes up to you and questions you as to why you were absent 

you just laugh and smile, telling him that you were sick (& tease him too) which he gets really flustered at and even blushes bc he missed you a lot bye 

so then he confesses to you, and tells you that even if it was two days, it felt like forever and he just really missed you and wanted you to be by his side?? and you found that hella cute (also bc of his blushing face) so like uh,, ever since then the two of you started to date

tomioka giyuu:

kimetsu academy au where he's the gym teacher (duh it's canon) & ur the assistant nurse of tamayo uwu

you often supervise whenever giyuu has a class bc you know how rough he can be,, so you're just there in case anything happens

 cue the students being in love w you bc you're the literal opposite of giyuu

cue the students lowkey shipping the two of you too (& the two of you are HELLA oblivious about about, too) 

you like to chat w him sometimes, even if you're the one who's doing most of the talking

despite his rough nature you actually find him really cute and like??? attractive 

and giyuu?? is naturally attracted to you too?? but then one day a student fight breaks out and while giyuu tries to stop it he ends up getting injured

so you, of course, treat him the best you can—tending to the bruises on his face & the cuts on his arms & legs,, and like your touch is so fucking good and gentle and like??? bitch is about to melt too

he ends up telling you that he likes you,, and you're shocked bc omg?? the guy i like just confessed & asked me out (btw u said yes haha)

uzui tengen:

aight so spy!au where he is sent to spy on you bc you're under suspicion working under an illegal organization (wait this counts as a modern au right? yeah anyways,,) 

he moves in to the apartment right across from you as your new "neighbor" 

he also works as the cashier at the bakery you work at too!!

 bc of that, naturally, the two of you got close

you thought he was v attractive and funny lmao,, you especially found his "flamboyant" catch phrase hella endearing too 

and tengen was like: fUCK NO I CANT FALL IN LOVE W YOU YOU'RE MY MISSION!! 

yeah right lmao bc he did end up falling in love w you. so he even asked you out (which ofc you said yes?? like bro tengen is literally the person of you're dreams) 

but he reminded himself that he still had a mission to do, so he used it the fact that the two of you were dating to his advantage to find more about you (aka snooping) 

you didn't really mind that + the fact that he asked lots of questions about you

but once he found out that you were completely clear, he was?? highkey happy and relieved, so he could date you comfortably without being paranoid lmao

kanroji mitsuri:

idol! mitsuri and manager! reader au hehe 

honestly you have been w mitsuri ever since she debuted

you watched her grow as both a singer and as a person—you saw all the sides of her personality, habits, flaws, etc; which honestly? made you fall in love w her 

however, you kept your feelings a secret bc you didn't want anybody to find out plus ruin mitsuri's reputation?

like okay you get fired but you don't want to hurt mitsuri or the years of hard work to be destroyed 

but it's so fuckin hard you know? bc she's super affectionate w you, and you're over here trying to keep your feelings in? 

so eventually you just,,, confess to her—all the feelings you had pent up just finally spill out

unexpectedly?? she says she feels the same way?? but she's been in love w you ever since she first laid eyes on you?? 

so lmao you keep your relationship a secret, even from the agency you work at lmao 

despite the hardships that you guys often face, you get through them together and the two of you couldn't be anymore happier w one another??

kochou shinobu: 

roommates au in which the two of you are college students 

shinobu a pharmacology major & you in toxicology!!

bc of you living together and even sharing some classes, the two of you spend a lot of time w each other 

you guys have plenty of study dates too haha 

and cute stuff like night outs or movies nights!!! 

honestly the more time you spend w her, the more time you?? fall in love shinobu. like. head over heels for her. 

and shinobu's like??? I FEEL REALLY NICE AND FUZZY AROUND YOU (in her brain, though) 

so the two of you end up confessing at the same time during movie night bc the movie reminded the two of you of each other a lot?? uh?? 

when the two of you realize what you said two each other, the two of you laugh it off and just? begin dating 

nothing really changes tbh!! just more affection, dates, spending time w each other, and being more intimate ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

shinazugawa sanemi:

bodyguard au :D in which sanemi is your newly appointed bodyguard and you're a millionaire that needs to be protected 

honestly he thought you'd be snobby as fuck considering that's how rich people usually are in his eyes

 but?? you're really freakin chill and cool?? not like he'd admit that aloud lmaoo

you like to tease him a lot bc he's so uptight w you, but apologize & give him ohagi (which he really fuckin loves?? Uh??)

you always try to convince him to play video games w you lmaoo esp mario kart (he declines though *eyeroll emoji*)

since he's almost always serious around you, when you find him tending to your dogs and being so soft around them you're like?? fuck?? my heart?? 

so basically the two of u dumbasses have feelings for each other but are oblivious + don't want to confess,,, like the more time you spend w one another the more you fall in love?

and he absolutely just,, loves it when you visit orphanages and help w the kids and the way you treat them is so sweet? 

yeah. he's so in love. 

but it wasn't until you ended up in a life-threatening situation that he actually confessed to you—which, as serious as the moment was, you cracked a joke and accepted his feelings.

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 12 paragraph viii

Only here’s what I really, really want someone to explain to me. What if one happens to be possessed of a heart that can’t be trusted—? What if the heart, for its own unfathomable reasons, leads one willfully and in a cloud of unspeakable radiance away from health, domesticity, civic responsibility and strong social connections and all the blandly-held common virtues and instead straight towards a beautiful flare of ruin, self-immolation, disaster? Is Kitsey right? If your deepest self is singing and coaxing you straight toward the bonfire, is it better to turn away? Stop your ears with wax? Ignore all the perverse glory your heart is screaming at you? Set yourself on the course that will lead you dutifully towards the norm, reasonable hours and regular medical check-ups, stable relationships and steady career advancement, the New York Times and brunch on Sunday, all with the promise of being somehow a better person? Or—like Boris—is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name? It’s not about outward appearances but inward significance. A grandeur in the world, but not of the world, a grandeur that the world doesn’t understand. That first glimpse of pure otherness, in whose presence you bloom out and out and out. A self one does not want. A heart one cannot help. Though my engagement isn’t off, not officially anyway, I’ve been given to understand—gracefully, in the lighter-than-air manner of the Barbours—that no one is holding me to anything. Which is perfect. Nothing’s been said and nothing is said. When I’m invited for dinner (as I am, often, when I’m in town) it’s all very pleasant and light, voluble even, intimate and subtle while not at all personal; I’m treated like a family member (almost), welcome to turn up when I want; I’ve been able to coax Mrs. Barbour out of the apartment a bit, we’ve had some pleasant afternoons out, lunch at the Pierre and an auction or two; and Toddy, without being impolitic in the least, has even managed to let casually and almost accidentally drop the name of a very good doctor, with no suggestion whatever that I might possibly need such a thing.

[As for Pippa: though she took the Oz book, she left the necklace, along with a letter I opened so eagerly I literally ripped through the envelope and tore it in half. The gist—once I got on my knees and fit the pieces together— was this: she’d loved seeing me, our time in the city had meant a lot to her, who in the world could have picked such a beautiful necklace for her? it was perfect, more than perfect, only she couldn’t accept it, it was much too much, she was sorry, and—maybe she was speaking out of turn, and if so she hoped I forgave her, but I shouldn’t think she didn’t love me back, because she did, she did. (You do? I thought, bewildered.) Only it was complicated, she wasn’t thinking only of herself but me too, since we’d both been through so many of the same things, she and I, and we were an awful lot alike—too much. And because we’d both been hurt so badly, so early on, in violent and irremediable ways that most people didn’t, and couldn’t, understand, wasn’t it a bit… precarious? A matter of self-preservation? Two rickety and death-driven persons who would need to lean on each other quite so much? not to say she wasn’t doing well at the moment, because she was, but all that could change in a flash with either of us, couldn’t it? the reversal, the sharp downward slide, and wasn’t that the danger? since our flaws and weaknesses were so much the same, and one of us could bring the other down way too quick? and though this was left to float in the air a bit, I realized instantly, and with some considerable astonishment, what she was getting at. (Dumb of me not to have seen it earlier, after all the injuries, the crushed leg, the multiple surgeries; adorable drag in the voice, adorable drag in the step, the arm-hugging and the pallor, the scarves and sweaters and multiple layers of clothes, slow drowsy smile: she herself, the dreamy childhood her, was sublimity and disaster, the morphine lollipop I’d chased for all those years.)

But, as the reader of this will have ascertained (if there ever is a reader) the idea of being Dragged Down holds no terror for me. Not that I care to drag anyone else down with me, but—can’t I change? Can’t I be the strong one? Why not?] [You can have either of those girls you want, said Boris, sitting on the sofa with me in his loft in Antwerp, cracking pistachios between his rear molars as we were watching Kill Bill. No, I can’t. And why can’t you? I’d pick Snowflake myself. But if you want the other, why not? Because she has a boyfriend? So? said Boris. Who lives with her? So? And here’s what I’m thinking too: So? What if I go to London? So? And this is either a completely disastrous question or the most sensible one I’ve ever asked in all my life.] [That little guy, said Boris in the car on the way to Antwerp. You know the painter saw him—he wasn’t painting that bird from his mind, you know? That’s a real little guy, chained up on the wall, there. If I saw him mixed up with dozen other birds all the same kind, I could pick him out, no problem.] And he’s right. So could I. And if I could go back in time I’d clip the chain in a heartbeat and never care a minute that the picture was never painted. To try to make some meaning out of all this seems unbelievably quaint. Maybe I only see a pattern because I’ve been staring too long. But then again, to paraphrase Boris, maybe I see a pattern because it’s there. [Do you ever think about quitting? I asked, during the boring part of It’s a Wonderful Life, the moonlight walk with Donna Reed, when I was in Antwerp watching Boris with spoon and water from an eyedropper, mixing himself what he called a “pop.” Give me a break! My arm hurts! He’d already shown me the bloody skid mark—black at the edges—cutting deep into his bicep. You get shot at Christmas and see if you want to sit around swallowing aspirin! Yeah, but you’re crazy to do it like that. Well—believe it or not—for me not so much a problem. I only do it special occasions. I’ve heard that before. Well, is true! Still a chipper, for now. I’ve known of people chipped three-four years and been ok, long as they kept it down to two-three times a month? That said, Boris added somberly—blue movie light glinting off the teaspoon —I am alcoholic. Damage is done, there. I’m a drunk till I die. If anything kills me—nodding at the Russian Standard bottle on the coffee table—that’ll be it. Say you never shot before? Believe me, I had problems enough the other way. Well, big stigma and fear, I understand. Me—honest, I prefer to sniff most times—clubs, restaurants, out and about, quicker and easier just to duck in men’s room and do a quick bump. This way—always you crave it. On my death bed I will crave it. Better never to pick it up. Although—really very irritating to see some bone head sitting there smoking out of a crack pipe and make some pronouncement about how dirty and unsafe, they would never use a needle, you know? Like they are so much more sensible than you? Why did you start? Why does anyone? My girl left me! Girl at the time. Wanted to be all bad and self-destructive, hah. Got my wish. Jimmy Stewart in his varsity sweater. Silvery moon, quavery voices. Buffalo Gals won’t you come out tonight, come out tonight. So, why not stop then? I said. Why should I? Do I really have to say why? Yeah, but what if I don’t feel like it? If you can stop, why wouldn’t you? Live by the sword, die by the sword, said Boris briskly, hitting the button on his very professional-looking medical tourniquet with his chin as he was pushing up his sleeve.]

And as terrible as this is, I get it. We can’t choose what we want and don’t want and that’s the hard lonely truth. Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us. We can’t escape who we are. (One thing I’ll have to say for my dad: at least he tried to want the sensible thing—my mother, the briefcase, me—before he completely went berserk and ran away from it.) And as much as I’d like to believe there’s a truth beyond illusion, I’ve come to believe that there’s no truth beyond illusion. Because, between ‘reality’ on the one hand, and the point where the mind strikes reality, there’s a middle zone, a rainbow edge where beauty comes into being, where two very different surfaces mingle and blur to provide what life does not: and this is the space where all art exists, and all magic. And—I would argue as well—all love. Or, perhaps more accurately, this middle zone illustrates the fundamental discrepancy of love. Viewed close: a freckled hand against a black coat, an origami frog tipped over on its side. Step away, and the illusion snaps in again: life-more-than-life, never-dying. Pippa herself is the play between those things, both love and not-love, there and not-there. Photographs on the wall, a balled-up sock under the sofa. The moment where I reached to brush a piece of fluff from her hair and she laughed and ducked at my touch. And just as music is the space between notes, just as the stars are beautiful because of the space between them, just as the sun strikes raindrops at a certain angle and throws a prism of color across the sky—so the space where I exist, and want to keep existing, and to be quite frank I hope I die in, is exactly this middle distance: where despair struck pure otherness and created something sublime.

And that’s why I’ve chosen to write these pages as I’ve written them. For only by stepping into the middle zone, the polychrome edge between truth and untruth, is it tolerable to be here and writing this at all. Whatever teaches us to talk to ourselves is important: whatever teaches us to sing ourselves out of despair. But the painting has also taught me that we can speak to each other across time. And I feel I have something very serious and urgent to say to you, my non-existent reader, and I feel I should say it as urgently as if I were standing in the room with you. That life—whatever else it is—is short. That fate is cruel but maybe not random. That Nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn’t mean we have to bow and grovel to it. That maybe even if we’re not always so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves anyway: wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while keeping eyes and hearts open. And in the midst of our dying, as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn’t touch. For if disaster and oblivion have followed this painting down through time—so too has love. Insofar as it is immortal (and it is) I have a small, bright, immutable part in that immortality. It exists; and it keeps on existing. And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next.

[serenlyss]

Parting Promise

Fandom: The Owl House Rating: G Relationships: lumity Summary: Summer is over, and it's time for Luz to go home. Distressed over the uncertainty of Luz's return, Amity asks her to make a promise... Crossposted to AO3: Parting Promise

So uuhh that new episode huh? I have a lot of thoughts about AOAW, some of which I'm planning more fics around, but for now, have some angst inspired by @frankielucky‘s comic. Be sure to give them and their incredible art some love!

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Luz sucks in a deep breath as she stands in front of the glowing portal of a door Eda had summoned for her, then lets it out in a single, drawn-out exhale. It stands wide open, revealing a seemingly eternal, softly glowing white void. Nervously, she crosses and uncrosses her fingers to let out some of her anxious energy. Although Luz knows what lays behind it, her inability to see past the silvery veil of light only worsens her anxiety about going home. She’s nervous beyond reason to see her mother again, and to return to the world where she had been shunned. What will her mother say? How will she react, when Luz finally tells her the truth of where she’s been all summer? Will she be angry? Disappointed? The two of them have had their fair share of arguments, but the thought of getting into a serious fight with her mother is… nerve-wracking, to say the least.

She’s already said goodbye. She’d spent the last few days letting everyone know where she’s going and that she may not be returning, but her closest friends had come to see her off personally. They hadn’t come with her to the door; Luz had insisted they not accompany her, and had instead parted with them back at the Owl House. Willow and Gus had come, of course, as had Amity.

Amity. In just about every way, she is Luz’s closest friend, and saying goodbye to her had been the hardest--even harder than with Eda. She’d said her farewells while fighting back tears, and she’d been able to tell that Amity was doing the same when she’d left. Just thinking about it makes Luz’s throat tighten up a little, a constrictive force that causes her breathing to hitch against her will. She swallows back the pit of remorse that forms in her stomach. There’s no doubt in her mind that Amity is the person she’ll miss the most once she’s back in the human world.

Briefly, she reflects on how close the two of them have gotten over the months Luz had spent at the Boiling Isles. Eda had made constant jokes about how inseparable they’d become, and Luz could tell by the knowing looks that she’d occasionally sent her way that she’d picked up on her more… romantic feelings. She wonders if Amity had ever noticed. She wonders if Amity would even be receptive of her silly crush. Not that it makes much of a difference at this point. Luz is going home, back to her real family, to her real life. Amity will go back to hers, the way things were always meant to be. Even if it hurts. Even if it feels wrong. Even if Luz really, really doesn’t want to say goodbye.

She sighs, turning her gaze downward. If there’s anything she regrets, it’s not telling Amity how she really feels. Even if she knows it will be easier this way, it still lingers in her mind, the one piece of business she’s unable to wrap up before she goes. Part of her hopes Amity doesn’t feel sad over this for too long, while the other part of her loathes the idea of the two of them drifting apart. She really hopes this isn’t the last time she’ll ever get to see her.

There’s still a chance, of course. A chance that her mother will see things the way Luz does, that she’ll finally understand why summer camp would have been so torturous. Why Luz feels so much more at home at the Owl House than she’d ever felt in her own house. But there’s a bigger chance that she’ll be shut down immediately and forced back into her normal, boring, sad life, where her interests are pushed aside as childish, and fitting in is all that matters.

She shakes her head. If she dwells on these thoughts for too long, she’ll chicken out and retreat back to the Owl House, where she’s safe, and nothing will be fixed. No, she can’t back out now. Her mother is expecting her. There are things she needs to work out as soon as possible. She steels her nerve, tightening her grip on the strap of her duffel bag, and takes a step toward the bright white void.

“Luz!”

She freezes in her tracks as Amity’s familiar voice calls out to her, her entire body tensing in surprise and dread. Immediately, she feels her emotions start to dredge themselves up again. Why? Why had she come, after Luz had asked her not to? Why did she feel the need to make this as hard as she could? She takes a shaky breath, turning to face her friend and forcing a small smile onto her face. “Amity, you were supposed to stay with Eda,” she chides gently, but her body subconsciously shies away, as though ashamed.

But Amity doesn’t pause in her approach. Luz’s eyes widen in surprise when Amity runs straight into her, wrapping her up in a tight hug and hiding her face in Luz’s shoulder. “I don’t care,” she says shakily, and it’s at this point that Luz registers the tears in her friend’s eyes. Is Amity… crying? “I-I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to leave me.”

Luz has never seen Amity break down like this, and she would never, in a hundred years, expect this to happen over her, of all people. It takes her a few seconds, but she finally remembers to move her arms, wrapping them around Amity in return and pulling her close. “Hey, it’s not going to be forever,” she reminds her, letting one hand travel up to smooth down Amity’s hair. “At least, I hope not. I just need to clear things up with my mom. She… she’ll understand. Eventually.”

Amity shakes her head against Luz’s shoulder. “You don’t know that,” she insists, her voice wavering and cracking. She’s leaving wet patches on the shoulder of Luz’s hoodie. “You have to come back, okay? It’ll be so lonely with you gone…”

Luz’s heart breaks for Amity. She knows all too well what it’s like to feel alone, to have no one to turn to and no one to confide in. But Amity does have people she can trust, now, even with Luz gone. “It’ll be okay. You won’t be alone, you’ll have Eda, and Willow, and Gus, and Ed and Em. I know your siblings can be pretty obnoxious sometimes, but they still love you,” she says, gently pulling Amity out of the embrace so she can talk to her face to face. “You have so many good friends now that you can go to if you’re in trouble.” She breaks eye contact with Amity, glancing down at the ground sadly. “You don’t really need me anymore, you know? You’ll be fine, I know you will.”

Amity goes quiet, and when Luz looks back up at her friend, her eyes are filled with shifting emotions. Shock, denial, sadness, and finally, anger. “Don’t need you? What are you talking about, you idiot?” she demands. “Of course I need you, you’re my best friend! How could you say that? Aren’t you sad?”

Luz backpedals immediately. “I am sad, I just…” She bites her lip and averts her gaze from Amity’s, trailing off. “I don’t know how my mom is going to react to… all of this. I’m going to do my best, and I really hope that I won’t have to be away for long, but I just don’t know. I don’t know anything.” The reality of the situation is really starting to get to her, now. She can feel the tears starting to come, pooling at the corners of her eyes. She blinks rapidly, willing them to disappear, but it’s pointless.

Amity grasps Luz by both shoulders, prompting her to meet her gaze once more. She looks sad, and scared, and helpless--three emotions that Luz rarely gets to see come from her friend. “Promise me,” she commands, her voice firm and authoritative despite her obvious state of distress. Her fingers shake as they curl into the fabric of Luz’s hoodie. “Promise me that you’ll come back.”

Luz hesitates. She knows better than to make a promise she may not be able to keep, even though she really, really wants to. She opens her mouth to say as much, then pauses. It’s as though a bulb lights up in her head, a spark of inspiration. It’s a half-baked ploy, and probably pretty stupid to make on impulse like this, but it’s the only way she can think of conveying her intentions to Amity. “Give me a minute,” she says, then swiftly pulls off her duffel bag and lets it fall to the ground.

Amity watches Luz in confusion as she rifles through the contents of the bag and produces a pen. She clicks it open, tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth, and begins to hurriedly scribble on her palm.

“What are you doing?” Amity asks, unable to see what Luz is drawing from her angle.

Luz has never had to seriously use this spell before. Eda had taught it to her after the Covention, to prevent getting cheated like she had during her very first witch’s duel, but it had been a purely precautionary measure, so that Luz could know how the spell works and how to avoid it should she ever need to. Now, it comes in handy for the first time. She tucks the pen away into her bag and straightens up onto her feet again, holding out her hand. “Ask me again,” she says, drawing her shoulders back confidently in a show of her determination.

Amity blinks, confused. She still can’t see what Luz has drawn, but she obliges nonetheless. “Please, Luz. Promise me that you’ll come back,” she repeats, her voice soft and vulnerable.

Luz feels the tears come freely now, but this time she’s overwhelmed not by sadness, but by warmth. When Amity reaches out and takes her hand, she feels a rush of potent, blind affection for her, for the trust they share. A ring of purple draws itself around their clasped hands.

“It’s an oath,” Luz murmurs, voice quivering.

The light from the everlasting oath casts Amity’s dumbfounded face in shades of pastel purple, and Luz catches the glint of it reflecting off her yellow eyes as she stares back at her, speechless. “Luz…”

But Luz cuts her off, firmly stating, “I will be back, I promise. Even if I have to go against my mom’s wishes, I’ll come back. The Boiling Isles is my home now. I have more of a connection to this place than I do to the house I grew up in. I promise you, Amity, I won’t be gone for long.”

A watery smile comes to Amity’s face, and she tugs Luz into another tight hug. She shifts her grip on Luz’s hand, intertwining their fingers together while maintaining the contact from Luz’s spell. “You better not be,” she replies. “Who will go to Grom with me next year if my fearless champion is missing in action?”

It’s meant to be a joke—Luz knows it is—but it still makes her face flame. “Well, then I’ll make sure to be back by then,” she banters back, and revels in the way Amity’s shy smile makes her heart swell with fondness.

Feeling brave and a little drunk on her giddiness, Luz leans forward and presses her lips against Amity’s forehead in a brief kiss. “Don’t miss me too much, ‘kay? And make sure to text me. Cross-dimensional cell signal is a blessing I do not intend to waste,” she says. 

When she pulls back, Amity’s face is flushed bright pink. Luz can’t help but feel somehow proud that she’s able to goad such a reaction out of her crush. “O-Okay,” she replies lamely. The awkwardness of it only makes Luz’s affection grow. She wonders if Amity knows just how adorable she can be when she lets herself be honest like this.

Luz pulls her hand out of Amity’s grasp. The eternal oath’s light fades along with the contact, and for a moment she feels disappointed, but she quickly pushes that aside. There will be plenty of time to hold Amity’s hand once I’m back for good, she reminds herself, if only to give herself a little boost of confidence for what lay ahead. She picks up her duffel bag and slings it back over her shoulders, then gives Amity the biggest, goofiest smile she can muster. “Well, I’m off! Tell Eda to lock the door behind me.”

Amity wraps one arm around her middle, raising the other up in a tiny wave. “Okay, I’ll do that,” she replies, still teary-eyed, but with a smile on her face.

Luz gives a nod of approval, stepping one foot over the door’s threshold. “I’ll see you soon, Amity. That’s a promise,” she says, her last parting words, and steps fully through the portal, tugging the door shut behind her.

[bubblegum-writes]

every storm runs out of rain

A/N: hello guys! this is my first fic of allllll time. please let me know how i did and any feedback would be appreciated! thanks and love uuuuu guysssss!

          The light of the morning is far more delicate, more gentle than any other light of the day. Whereas dusk and especially noon-light stabs at the eyes, sparing no one from its rays of power, morning offers a peace that only a few privileged early-birds can see on any given day. For this reason, Katsuki was grateful for his strict sleep schedule. To see his lover's face in the pale sunlight of dawn, with her lips parted and small snores reverberating through the sleeping space, was to see the face of God in his eyes. His eyes peeked through his eyelids, the warmth of the body next to his becoming more apparent with every waking moment. Her (h/c) locks were piled atop the pillow; sleep has not treated them well. The tangles would surely be a mess to deal with when she woke up. 

          If someone had asked Katsuki 10 years, 5 years, hell, even 2 years ago, if he saw himself finally settling down with someone with whom he found love within, he’d simply sneer at the thought with some not-so-delicately picked explicits. His pride would not allow him to entertain such fanciful ideas. No, it wasn’t just pride; it was a culmination of pride, fear, and ignorance that had wrapped itself into a tight, Gordian knot-esque ball of strangled emotions. However, unlike ancient beings of superb physical power like Alexander the Great, (Y/N) did not simply tear through it like a savage in hopes that the problem would be solved. Instead, she took her time to study it, to understand why the knot had formed in the first place. With delicate and dainty fingers, she slowly unraveled the heap of emotions, traumas that were committed to memory long ago, and precariously put them all into a single, organized line of memories. Together, they traversed the paths of hurt and anger. Throughout the process, Katsuki finally saw how someone can be simultaneously caring yet strong, soft yet hard. His eyes slowly opened to the world, and with her help, he took it all in with grace. Well, as much grace as Katsuki Bakugou could handle. 

          After a few slow blinks, he was able to look at his lover (no, his wife) sleeping soundly in their king-sized bed clearly. After last night’s certain affairs, neither one of the duo had bothered getting dressed afterwards. No wonder her naked figure had yet to wake up; the passionate love-making and numerous rounds they had both endured not even twelve hours ago must have taken a toll on her body. The light from the gigantic window that stood above the headboard streamed through the room, illuminating everything in a peachy, almost antique color of yellow. Fierce red eyes held a somber, yet enduring look as they slid down her figure, from her hair, to her eyelashes and eyes as they flinched to and fro in her deep sleep. Further down her looked, and he found the marks he left on her the night before. Dark purple and blue spots on her collarbones, chest, and midsection looked like the finest art to him; he felt an overwhelming sense of pride knowing that he was the artist who littered them across her beautiful skin.

          His hands slowly left the mattress and moved up towards her face, his calloused thumbs rubbing against her cheek lovingly. Subconsciously, (Y/N) moved her head towards the hand that comforted her, that brought her great pleasure. He smiled, his eyes narrowing so he can take in everything glorious about this moment. He slowly encompassed his ethereal wife with his strong arms, careful not to wake her up, and tucked her head beneath his chin. His calloused fingers rubbed and her arm and back, deep hums of a long-forgotten lullaby reverberating from his throat. The burnt orange blankets were strewn about their bodies, their legs entangled and chests tightly pressed onto one another. The birds were singing their morning songs loudly; spring has finally shown its face despite the harsh winter whose storms and snowfalls had ravaged Japan just months earlier. The thought of the renaissance of the trees and birds made Katsuki recount one of his darkest nights that led to his lightest moment.

          Every storm runs out of rain. (Y/N) told Katsuki that one day after his hero work had finally cracked his constitution. He had come home with a blank face, a far cry from his expressive, if not constantly angry, face. He dropped his bags by the door, not even bothering muttering a small ‘hello” or even a grunt in acknowledgement. (Y/N) was busy finishing dinner, his favorite: spicy takoyaki. Immediately she could tell that something was amiss with her fiancé. She knew if she pried or even attempted to ask what was wrong straight-out, she’d be met with a dismissive wave and passive aggressive rumbles at best. She watched Katsuki sulk through their apartment and into their bathroom, shutting the door with a loud slam! With a deep sigh, (Y/N) returned to the takoyaki, making sure none of the fried balls had burnt.

          She was grateful that she was almost done before Katsuki came home. She finished up the takoyaki, unplugged everything, put foil on the balls to keep them warm, and slowly paced herself towards their restroom. She gently placed her head upon the door and she heard the water running, but no music.

          How unusual, she thought. Ordinarily, he brought his phone into the shower and listened to whatever music fit his mood that day. However, she was greeted with near silence. Except for the near-silent sobs of her favorite person in the world. Gently, she turned the knob and pushed the wooden door. The shower curtains were closed, but she could barely make out his silhouette through the steam. Katsuki was crouched on the shower floor, his head in his knees and his arms around his torso. His head was shaking slightly, the sobs breaking (Y/N)’s heart with every moan. Katsuki was so caught up in his suffering that he had yet to notice (Y/N) slowly undressing just outside of the curtains.

          Gently, she grabbed the edges of the curtains and pulled them back. With a pitiful yelp that almost made (Y/N) purse her lips and eyebrows in pity (she didn’t however, because she didn’t know how he’d react in this situation), Katsuki looked up at her, trying his damnedest to look tough and put-together. Quite frankly, he looked like a wet, sad dog. In any other scenario, (Y/N) might’ve chuckled, but this was not the time to do so. She slowly dipped one foot into the scalding water, wincing as it barely burned her skin. She gauged his reaction to see if she should continue. When he just continued staring at her, not making an attempt to stop her or even move, she slowly lowered herself until she was sitting directly across from him.

          “Hello, dear,” she whispered, the sound of her voice barely carrying over the sound of pounding water. He suddenly swiped his red-tinged eyes away to stare at the ground between his knees. His breathing was labored and his blonde hair was stuck to his face; he didn’t even try to move it.“Hey,” he slowly said, still not making eye contact. The words permeated the air, hovering like the steam off of the two hot bodies. Testing the waters (both physically and emotionally), she took her hand and lay it atop one of his knees. He tensed, not prepared for the physical contact as his eyes slowly started trailing up (Y/N)’s body. She was perfect in his eyes; her body always seemed to melt into his, like two different puzzle pieces finally finding their other half. Above that, her personality glowed like a horde of fireflies on a hot summer night.

          He always wondered how someone could be so empathetic yet strong, funny yet serious, positive yet idealistic at the same time. On top of that, how could that person find anything good in him? He knew he wasn’t the easiest person to handle; he didn’t really choose to be that way. Yet (Y/N) found the good within him, behind the anger and sarcasm and pain. 

          “Wanna talk about today?” She gently offered her ear to whatever problems Katsuki had.

          “Maybe....I just….” He never had an easy time communicating his feelings, but at least it was easier around (Y/N). Before he could continue, (Y/N) slowly moved her body to rest atop his between his knees and chest, her arms wrapping around his neck.

          “Everything will be alright, dear. You can cry. I am here. I am here for you. I love you.” She assured him as she traced her nails atop his shoulders. Finally, the dam broke. His tears mixed with the shower water, his sobs echoing in the spacious bathroom. He told her about a villain that had attacked the city today, how he wasn’t fast enough or strong enough to save everyone. As he talked he gradually tightened his arms around her, until they were in each other's vice-like grip. He felt the safest had ever had, or maybe ever would be as well. (Y/N) dragged her fingers through his hair, humming in response to his talking and shushing sweet lullabies when his emotions came to a peak. After both lovers had been drenched and their extremities had started to prune, Katsuki felt lighter than he had for some time. He opened the locked chest that was his heart, poured the contents out in front of (Y/N) with no hesitation, and she worked his soul into newer, brighter shapes. Completely forgetting the takoyaki, they moved to their bed to finally rest for the night. He would never forget what she said after they had dried off and lay down in bed, naked yet not sexually connected in the moment. He thought he had finally gone to sleep, but before he could succumb to the darkness himself, he heard the words that stuck with him ever since.

          “Every storm runs out of rain.” 

          Gently reuniting with the current moment in time, he felt his eyes had teared up without his knowledge. His smile was not a sad one, but rather one of pure, unadulterated bliss. He pulled (Y/N) even more tightly into his chest, kissing the crown of her head repeatedly. Lethargically, she opened her eyes, her eyelashes tickling the blonde man’s chest. Trying not to disturb the perfect moment between the two lovers, she gently raised her head to meet crimson eyes. In that moment, the world had stopped moving; every set of eyes in the world was concentrated on the two sweethearts, awaiting their next moves.

          “Hello,” Katsuki grumbled, his knuckles pushing her hair out of her eyes, “How did you sleep?”

          “After last night? Like a baby.” She joked as she leaned up and kissed his chin. Again, if you had asked Katsuki 2 years ago if he would ever find himself in such a vulnerable position, he’d deny ever allowing himself to not be as strong or as brave as humanly possible every second of every day. That’s what (Y/N) did to him, though. Piece by piece, brick by brick, she took apart every facet of him with gentle heart and hands and put him back together with as much love conceivably possible. He never asked her to, she just did. He’d find a way to thank her, one day.

          “You sure as hell don’t snore like a baby,” he chided with a light tone. He leaned his head back so he could take her beauty all in. Her eyes were still drowsy, but it just added to her charm. He felt so incredibly safe here, in their shared bed with (Y/N) deep within his hold. “Speaking of a baby…” Katsuki drawled, watching her face scrunch up with a mixed look of confusion and...was that hope? His hand slowly trailed down to her lower abdomen, stroking below her navel where his future children would grow.

          “Are you putting down what I’m picking up?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows and best as she could in her tired state.

          “God dammit (Y/N), I’m tryna be serious about having a kid and you’re over here joking about it!” His eyebrows furrowed, but both of them knew it wasn’t done facetiously. He pulled her face towards his, their lips only centimeters apart before their eyes met. In that moment, every word he had wanted to say to her about them, about their future, came into light. Her eyes narrowed with a smile and she closed the space between them.

          It was a kiss that started slow, their heads slowly twisting and lips opening and closing on one another. Eventually, things got heated and, after a good hour, they lay in each other’s arms again, considerably sweatier and higher off ecstasy than before.  

          “Would you want a boy or a girl?” She spoke softly into his hair, his head tucked beneath her chin. 

          “I want a healthy baby for us to love, that’s all I want. That’s all I ever wanted after I found you.” He murmured into her chest, stroking the hand beneath her bottom on the outside of her thigh. (Y/N) giggled before she took his face into her hands.

          “I’ve made you a softie, haven’t I?”

          “....Shut up…”

thank you for reading! i appreciate any feedback! lemme know if you need any trigger warnings and also lemme know what you guys would like next!

[limeblood-exe]

A Singular, Bloody Mattress (part 2)

So much fluff, you guys, it’s tooth-rutting. And a lil bit of Raph angst, too because why not. Ok, but it’s also mainly fluff. Enjoy!

He can’t sleep. It’s three in the morning, and Raph lies completely awake, staring at the cracks in his bedroom ceiling.

Out of all of his brothers, Raph has no problem sleeping. Mikey might have the occasional bad dream or he might stay awake playing video games or doing art, but for the most part Mikey has taken to heart Raph’s lectures about needing to get a good amount of sleep each night. “It’s important for a growing, young turtle,” he had explained. However, he wishes that his other younger brothers would have taken that advice. 

Donnie and Leo are Raph’s headaches when it comes to making sure all of his brothers are taking care of themselves. Donnie has an even worse habit of staying up too late, but it’s mostly because he gets so absorbed with a new project that time passes without his knowing. It’s common for Raph to find Donnie either passed out on his worktable in his lab, or stumbling into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. But while his younger brother does stay up late occasionally, he enjoys sleep probably the most out of any of them, so it’s easy for Raph to convince his brother to sleep (convincing, as in Raph mentions the time to Donnie, who replies with “Wow, would you look at that,” and then promptly sleeps for the next twelve hours).

And Leo just doesn’t sleep sometimes. Honestly, just even knowing the fact that Leo has insomnia was actually discovered from pure luck. Raph didn’t even know his brother was having problems with sleep until he accidentally came across him on his way to the bathroom just hanging out in the family room, binging some Jupiter Jim films. 

He tried to talk to Leo about it, but every instance he brought it up his brother had an annoying ability of dodging the topic. Finally, with Raph having to resort to the “I’m gonna tell Splinter” card, he had admitted that sometimes he has issues falling asleep, but that it wasn’t anything to worry about, and he would let them know if it got worse. So Raph had agreed to let it go with that promise in mind. That didn’t stop him from staying up a couple of nights spying on his brother just to make sure the problem didn’t, in fact, get worse. He never saw Leo leave his room those nights, so he either must have gotten through his sleep drought or knew Raph was watching him and used his portals to secretly escape his big brother’s view.

He doesn’t know which one it was, to be honest.

And he feels he should have done more, Raph comes to realize, because this whole “not being able to sleep” thing is just awful. The stinging sensation in his eyes, the restlessness of both mind and body. He can’t understand how Leo would try to hide this instead of just asking them for help. He has no idea how long Leo might have been suffering from insomnia, but one night and already Raph feels like splitting his bed in half, despairing that sleep has slipped from his clutches.

But he's no fool, he knows the cause of why he is not currently sleeping. 

It's because of the fact that his aforementioned brother is currently holed up in their infirmary.

No matter what he tries, Raph can’t stop thinking about what had happened just a couple days prior. They had come so close, too close, to losing their brother. Not just when they were cornered by their enemies; as soon as they got back home, it was a fight to keep their brother alive, restoring his lost blood with blood donations from Mikey, who argued that he wanted to do it, he wanted to feel helpful, and stitching together torn skin and shell.

He was fine, though. Damned lucky, their father had said, but he managed to pull through.

And yeah, they cried when he opened his eyes for the first time since they got back home, but that doesn’t matter. What mattered was that their team had not been reduced to three.

Leo is gonna be fine, things are heading back to normal; so how come Raph can't stop thinking about how useless he felt during the entire ordeal?

Sitting up abruptly, Raph decides that staring at the ceiling isn't gonna help him get any sleep. 

He leaves his room quietly so as to not disturb any of his brothers, who desperately need the rest just as much as he does, and departs for the kitchen. He's thirsty, so it seems like a reasonable first destination. 

He walks mindlessly, his mind swallowed by too many thoughts.

Water sounds nice, maybe that’s what I need. A glass of cool water, and I’ll head back to bed, Raph thought to himself. 

Entering the room, he turns on the light, looking for the fridge hoping to find-

This is not the kitchen. An easy discovery, what with the lack of kitchen essentials and instead he sees humming machines, a curtain, an occupied bed-

Ah, he’s in the infirmary. Without thinking, his feet had unconsciously brought him here.

He immediately slaps the light switch off, worried he woke his brother from his needed rest. He hadn’t meant to come in here; he didn't want to be in here. Not right now. He’s supposed to be trying to keep his mind off things.

He can just go back, he didn’t hear his brother wake up; didn’t hear a groan or even a peep, so there would be no harm in him just walking away.

But he might as well check that Leo is asleep as he’s already here and all; he does have a track record of hiding any of his sleep issues.

Raph pads to the side of the bed, spotting his brother cocooned in a hill of blankets. The only parts of him he clearly can see are his head and his arm that sticks out, dangling over the edge of the bed. Raph lays his hand on Leo’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his steady and constant breathing. Raph can't see them right now, but he's painfully aware of the large swath of bandages that cover his middle.

Content that his brother is indeed asleep, he grasps Leo's dangling arm (noting he has one of Donnie’s techy bracelets strapped to his wrist, most likely monitoring his vitals) in his gentle hold, and positions it back in his warm bundle. Tucking his brother in, he smiles softly before he makes his way to the kitchen to grab something to drink.

"Raph?" a soft voice mumbles before he even takes a single step, and he definitely did not give a little yell of surprise, no matter what Leo says.

"Leo! Sorry," Raph u-turns instantly and puts a hand on his brother's head, patting it gently like a parent would to a kid. "I didn’t wake you, did I?"

"You did," Leo gives a jaw-cracking yawn before he continues, talking into his pillow, Raph straining his ears to hear him, "but it’s fine. I feel like I’ve been asleep for too long anyway."

"That’s pretty normal, and you’re gonna have to get used to it. It’s going to be awhile before you’re back to normal, buddy," And the events of that night once again rush to the forefront of Raph's mind. He looks to the ground, unable to look his brother in the eye, afraid that Leo will see through his eyes and read his thoughts.

"Huh? What is it?" Leo looks more alert due to the seriousness his face had suddenly morphed to, struggling weakly in his blankets to lean up against his pillow.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Leo squints up at him with a disapproving look. Like he’s gonna believe that for a second.

“Now, why don’t I believe that? Are you lying to me, bro?”

"No-it’s just-I’m not lying to you,” Deflating under Leo’s sharp glare, Raph nervously rubs his hand together, gathering the courage to speak. 

“…Back then, I couldn't do anything. I'm supposed to be the leader, Leo, and I did nothing." His face scrunches, and his hands clenching together in a show of anger. "And I'm… I'm sorry, Leo. I’m sorry that I couldn't protect you."

Raph would expect his brother to do many things after his revelation; make a joke to lighten the mood, ignore the apology altogether, saying something along the lines of “please don’t embarrass yourself by talking any longer”, etc. He did not expect for his brother to grab his wrist suddenly and pull him close to the edge of the bed, and with one large motion, wraps his arms around Raph’s neck. If he wasn’t too shocked, he would have admonished Leo for moving around so much, since he just got mortally wounded, but the hug feels so good at the moment that all he can do, all he wants to do, is hug his brother back.

“I don’t blame you Raph, you don’t have to ever apologize for something like this,” Leo comforts. His voice is gentle and kind and so unlike Leo’s usual carefree tone that Raph lays one of his hands on the back of Leo’s head checking for a fever.

Not finding one, he buries his face in his younger brother’s shoulder, and Raph has to choke down the sudden lump in his throat to softly mutter, “But I should’ve done, you know, more. I’m the eldest, it’s my job to protect you guys. And at that moment, I failed. And it’s not just that, I couldn’t come up with a plan. My mind felt so gooey and slow and I just-because of that I put you at serious risk, Leo. If you couldn’t-if you didn’t-”

“But I did. And stop putting all the blame on yourself,” Leo adds. “If you wanna play the blame-game, then I think I gotchu beat.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. We wouldn’t have even been in that situation in the first place had I never gotten hurt. I let my guard down, Raph, and I paid the price for it. And so did all of you.”

“That’s not fair, Leo. You couldn’t have known that those paper guys would have been any more dangerous than the ones we’ve already fought before,” Raph pulls apart their hug, going into his lecturing mode. “You can’t blame yourself for everything that happened.”

“But that’s what I’m saying. It was a sucky situation, so you can’t blame yourself as our leader when things go bad, because it’s not just on you. We’re a team, and we’ll fail together as a team.”

While bleak sounding, it sparks an understanding in Raph.

We’ll fail together as a team.

He understands where Leo is coming from. He always thought that the pressure of failing would be on his shoulders alone; he’s the leader, and a good leader takes responsibility. A good leader would know better than to lead their team to their deaths. 

But a good leader would also know that you can’t win every fight. Raph doesn’t want to accept that as a possibility, he might never be able to, but he can know where he stands when it does.

He’s lost this argument, so Raph just slowly nods. He still feels like he could’ve done better, and he knows it might take awhile before he accepts what Leo had to say, but he feels relieved, the burden of feeling so alone lifted from his shoulders.

Raph, thickly says, "Thank you, Leo."

"Anytime, brother." Leo replies. As Raph rubs at his eyes, clearing away beading tears, Leo adds, "Now, pay up."

"What? What do you mean?" Raph asks, confused. Leo sticks out his quivering lips, his eyes pouting upwards. Leo raises his arms towards Raph, his hands making a grabby motion in the air.

"Carry me."

"What? No! Why would I do that?"

“Because I’m bored! I’ve been lying here for, what has it been, three days?”

“Just two, actually.”

“My point being! I need a change of scenery.”

“Uhh, but you’ve been sleeping for the past couple of days? How can the scenery bother you when you're not awake to see it. Besides, you’re still recovering.”

"Oh, come on! That's not fair, and you know it. I'm healing just fine," Leo doesn't give up and increases his efforts to be held, mimicking a petulant child demanding attention. "Please, Raphie, I don't like the infirmary."

"No."

"Pleaaaase-"

"Alright, fine!"

Leo laughs victoriously as Raph leans down to pick up his brother. Leo wraps his arms around Raph's broad neck, and his big brother puts his arms behind Leo's back and beneath his knees, making sure to do so around his blanket as well. He doesn’t want his brother getting cold, after all.

Straightening his back, Raph glares disapprovingly at Leo, who just smiles happily in return, snuggling his cheek against the dip between Raph's plastron and his neck.

"Where am I going exactly?"

"Anywhere is fine."

"Uh-huh."

Raph is convinced that Leo made a big fuss just to be held, but who is he to deny his brothers want they want. After all, it wasn’t just Raph that went through a tough ordeal. If Leo wants to be held, it's the least Raph can do.

With the choice being left to Raph, he decides that the family room is the perfect spot and makes his way there.

Leo begins to doze in his hold, snuggling close to the heat of his brother.

Why would he need a change of scenery if he was just gonna fall asleep anyway.

Raph doesn't have it in him to wake him back up, so he sits cross-legged on the floor as soon as he arrives and holds his breathing brother close.

This was not how Raph thought his night was gonna go, with Leo asleep in his lap and the night continuing to tick by. Content regardless, Raph rests his chin on top Leo's head, appreciating the living movements of his brother: his breaths, his sleepy snorts, his leg twitches, they're all proof that he's alive.

Being up so late and having the comfort of his younger sibling close, Raph feels himself starting to doze off as well, imagining the swell of sleep that would finally overcome him. Ready for the bliss of sleep to take him, the thundering of distant footsteps startles him to full alert mode. With the frantic, but familiar, steps coming closer Raph looks to see none other than Donnie rounding the doorway, whipping his head around in search of something. Spotting the two of them on the floor, Donnie rushes forward.

"Is Leo ok?!" Donnie asks.

Taken aback by the urgency in Donnie’s voice, he says, "Uhh, yeah. He’s fine.” Looking down at his dozing brother as if to confirm his own statement, he looks back to Donnie as Leo sleepily mutters into his chest. “He's sleeping right now, so if you could be quiet, Donald." Raph slightly scolds Donnie for his loud shout. 

"Wha-excuse me!" Donnie, offended by his brother's admonishment, stares incredulously at his only older brother. "I just thought, you know, that something must've happened, Raphael, with my tech informing me that one of Leo's stats changed. I had gone to check on him when, to my surprise, he is nowhere to be found."

Oh. That would explain Donnie’s panic. The tech bracelet on Leo’s wrist was meant to monitor his well-being, so of course Donnie would have had any sort of change being directly messaged to his own wrist-band, alerting him if anything were to happen. That must have included his sleep cycle, and with Leo awake long enough to have a conversation with Raph, he was awake long enough for Donnie to be alerted.

"Oh, my bad... Sorry, Donnie, I didn't know."

Donnie breathes a deep sigh, the act calming himself and he regains a more collected composure.

"It's fine, I was just worried that he did something stupid again, like trying to use the bathroom on his own when he can't even stand properly." He takes in the sight of his two brothers cuddling on the floor together, fully registering what's before him. "Um, but might I ask what you two are doing?"

"I couldn't sleep, and I think Leo was getting bored of the infirmary." He slightly shrugs his shoulders. "So, here we are."

"Bored of the infirmary? Does he not understand the whole concept of 'I nearly died and I should take it easy?'" Donnie crosses his arms, "I swear, sometimes I wonder where his head can be. He be just as bad as Mikey sometimes-"

Donnie pauses, leering suspiciously at Raph.

"Wait, what did you mean you couldn't sleep?"

"It means that I couldn't sleep, Donnie." That was before his talk with Leo, and as much as he loves his heart-to-hearts with his brothers, he doesn't feel it in him to do one more for tonight. "And besides, that was way earlier. I'm better now."

His brother just mm-hm's to himself. Donnie then joins Raph on the floor, sitting next to his side with his legs sprawled out in front of him. A moment passes as Raph waits patiently for Donnie to speak first. 

"Do you still want to talk about it? I'm up now, you might as well take advantage of having me all to yourself. Not many get the privilege of that, dear Raphael."

Raph gives a good natured eye-roll, but before he can give his own snarky response, someone beats him to the chase.

"Wow, conceited much?"

"Shut up. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" Donnie asks at the same time Raph mumbles to himself, "Are you ever asleep?"

Leo slowly morphs his face into a smirk, then replies simply with a cheery "Nope."

He continues to say, "And how can I? You guys keep waking me up. For once I have the chance to get a full night's rest, and you guys are ruining it."

His brothers have no argument to counter him with, so Leo counts that as a small victory.

“Well, speaking of sleep, I’m gonna go back to bed now that I know Leo's not gonna crack his head open on the toilet or something,” Donnie stands, stretching his arms above his head. “What are you gonna do?”

“Me and Leo are good here,” Raph says.

“You’re gonna stay like that? On the floor? Call me crazy, but that doesn't sound very comfortable, Raph.”

“Yeah, I know. But we’re already here, sooo.”

Donnie gives a thoughtful hmm, hand to his chin in a contemplating manner. After sometime, he raises a pointed finger to the ceiling, eyes bright with newfound determination.

“You know what, I actually have a brilliant idea. Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

Curious as to what Donnie has planned, Raph complies with Donnie's order. He watches the descending back of his brother and wonders just what he has gotten himself into tonight. He grows impatient when minutes tick by, and even Leo starts to huff in annoyance, the waiting anticipation keeping him up.

Ten minutes later, Donnie reappears with a sleepy Mikey in tow, both loaded with pillows and blankets, which are so stacked it's nearly blocking their view.

"You didn't have to wake him up, Donnie."

Mikey just shakes his head, setting down his load by Raph’s feet.

"It's fine, Raph, no biggie. Dee told me we were gonna have a sleepover in the family room," Mikey smiles through an obnoxious yawn, laying out the blankets (some, Raph notices, are from his own room) to form a giant pile on the floor. "And I thought, ‘Oh, man! We haven’t had one in so long!’ It sounded nice, especially after everything that’s happened."

Now that Mikey mentioned it, they haven’t done this for a long time. They’ve been so busy dealing with the whole mutant outbreak that sleepovers kind of took a back-burner to their list of priorities.

Raph, with Leo in his arms, mumbling something he can't quite make out, moves to stand a distance away, making space for Donnie and Mikey as they prepare the rest of the room. 

Donnie and Mikey make quick work, busying themselves with preparing a blanket fort by using nearby objects to hold up the blankets, ranging from Splinter's recliner to using the projector as a tether for the fort's ceiling. And since this just so happens to be the genius and artist of the family, the fort they create is a mix of both their technical and artistic skills. 

The fort, while not only being huge, would put most other blanket forts to shame in just style alone.

Mikey suspends numerous low-lit strings of light on the ceiling, giving the fort a warm glow while Donnie works to construct the cushions and blankets on the floor to maximize their comfort. Throwing in a couple of stuffed animals along with some glow sticks they found in Raph's room, their blanket fort is complete.

Donnie grabs one end of a blanket, acting as a curtain for the entryway, while Mikey grabs the other and simultaneously they pull them back to reveal the inside of their new masterpiece with a bow. Raph “aah’s” at their display, entranced with the sight.  

Raph lays Leo in the middle of the fort, who sinks delightfully into the cottony bliss, exhaustion overtaking his body which has reached its limits for staying awake for so long. Mikey leaps into the fort and lands next to Leo, giving a mirthful shout as he immediately grabs one of the blankets covering his sleeping brother and bundles himself next to Leo, snuggling into his shoulder and wrapping his arms around one of his big brother’s.

“Be careful, Mikey,” Raph warns. Mikey would never intentionally hurt one of them, but Raph thinks it safe to at least warn his brother that Leo is still recovering from an injury.

“I know!"

Leo gives a little huff, turning his face towards Mikey and blowing a quick gust of air into his face. Mikey makes a face, grunting, "Ew, your breath stinks," while Leo replies with, "Some of us are trying to sleep, Miguel."

Mikey giggles into Leo's shoulder as he says, "Sorry," but he doesn't sound all that reproachful.

Raph is next to settle down, laying on Leo's other side, grabbing Donnie's wrist, who was distracted admiring his and Mikey’s handiwork, and pulling him down with him. Having lost his own snuggle buddy to Mikey, Donnie has become his next victim, squashed between Raph's massive arms. But he only gives minor complaints, so Raph doesn't feel all that bad.

The combination of soothing lights from the ceiling and the glow sticks and the cushions beneath them lull the turtles into a comfortable daze. Next to him, Raph can hear the sleeping forms of his youngest brothers, cuddled together with their limbs entangled. 

"You know, next time you have problems with sleeping, you can always come to one of us. You always help us when we can't sleep; of course, we'd want to do the same for you," Donnie gently mentions. Patting Raph on the arm, he adds for good measure, "You're our big brother, but we can still help you."

We're a team.

Surrounded by the warmth of his family, knowing that everything has finally gone back to normal, Raph smiles.

"Yeah, I know, Donnie."

Donnie hums, accepting his answer, and in a couple of minutes his own breathes become slow and even, deep in sleep.

His brothers, all of them, are right here, safe and sound. Raph still might have self-doubts as a leader and as a brother, but for now, he'll let go of his troubles and join his brothers in the blissful land of slumber.

In no time at all, Raph feels the dregs of sleep consume his mind, falling asleep with a peaceful smiling gracing his lips.

[doomedandstoned]

SOLAR SONS Show Their True Colors on ‘Chameleon’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Album Art by Keir Murdoch

One of the most played songs on our new compilation 'Doomed & Stoned in Scotland' (2021) is "Jormungandr" by SOLAR SONS, and when you give it a listen you'll understand immediately why. The Dundee band, formed in 2014, has a peculiar style that blends spirited progressive metal with heavy metal bombast, virtuosic guitar solos, and the occasional stylings of regional folk music, making this a solid contender for the Scottish Rock exhibit.

However you describe them, Solar Sons are anything but predictable. Formed in 2014 by Rory Lee (bass, lead vox), Danny Lee (guitar, backing vox), and Pete Garrow (drums, backing vox), the band got serious right away and built a home studio that doubles as a rehearsal space. I bet that would be a fun place to be a fly on the wall when jamming is in session.

DIY to the core, it's not surprising to find them also producing their own records, with each album being self-released. Hell, even their music videos are a personal labor of love.

Like many of us who sat in our houses shellshocked at the beginning of The Great Lockdown, fear gave way to boredom and boredom to creativity.

Solar Sons became separated, as so many other people were during the pandemic. The extra time was put to use and the band began working on new material. Passing each other song ideas and jams, this kicked off an intense period of creating the music from the new album. One song spurring on the next, until late-April/early-May 2020, nine to ten brand new tracks had taken serious formation.

Once things eased up a bit in July, Solar Sons set to work developing the lyrical and vocal parts of the songs, having quite a bit of fun learning to play the songs as a full band.

The album is called 'Chameleon' (2021), and I didn't know until I'd given it a good, thorough listen, how appropriate that title is to the album content. A chameleon is an Old World Lizard renowned for its ability to change color.The album before us is the band's fourth and showcases the diverse command of Solar Sons has over a plethora of rock and metal styles.

Each song is a concept of its own. We gallop gallantly out of the gate with "No Idle Blade," a breathlessly-paced song which references the classic Hiroshi Inagaki film Samurai Saga (1959). It's as much a sweeping love story as it is a heroic clash of swords.

Live by the code, honour to the warriors oath Morality means less to me than duty to the sword Make savage the hand and strong of the mind Must blood be spilled in the fields tonight Many before and many ahead Those who where terrified just turned and fled Swords slashing down, we race to the end

This romping NWOBHM number is an adrenaline rush, full of thematic urgency as played out by the Solar Son's expert sword 'n skins crews who are simply electric in their heroic execution of the rhythm and riffs. Pair this on a playlist, immediately following High on Fire's "Bastard Samurai."

"Timelord" is another heavy hitter, but transports us into another world -- the realm of Doctor Who, to be precise. It continues the frenetic pace of its predecessor, with skilled drum and bass work creating a kind of vortex transporting the evil timelord 'cross the constellations to wreak havoc on the good Doctor (which in my mind will always be my first childhood connection with the word "cool," the Fourth Doctor Tom Baker).

The evil timelord he has come for us all Brought back from the past to walk among us Set forth his reckoning and spread fear among us We dare not stand alone, it is nearly upon us The hour is here, the time is now

This song races to the finish with a jazzy swirl of psychedelic picking, slowly fading away. And...scene.

As the album progresses from this point forward, the rhapsodic progression through different styles becomes all the more apparent. It's hard to believe we're even listening to the same band in the funky, "Back Again" until the Solar Sons chime in unison the chant: "Visions in my mind / The pieces fall apart."

"Molten Mountain" is a wonderful prog interlude with beautiful guitar and bass tone. I refer to it in my notes as "The Continuing Adventures of Whale & Wasp" (Alice in Chains devotees will get the reference). It's worth noting that frontman Rory Lee moonlights as bassist with King Witch, another favorite band of mine from out of Scotland.

Every well-rounded album needs contrasts. Light and dark, fast and slow, exciting and chill. Enter: "Reflections," which the band characterises as a kind of contemplative ballad.

"Captive" continues in a similar mood. As it begins, it stirs up memories of the melancholic "Soma" by The Smashing Pumpkins. Don't be lulled into a depressive sleep, though, this too has the stirring fight and might of Solar Sons written inside and out (the band calls it "the anti-ballad").

With "Revenant" the band has decided to show off what it can do as a purely instrumental outfit. Lovers of progressive rock will relish in the effortless psychedelic and math-driven passages. This is why you practice your scales and runs, guitar students. So you can one day aspire to play with the effortless style, grace, and beauty of Danny Lee. I'd love to see these guys jam with my Northwest pals Zirakzigil sometime! What a blast it would be to have the two of those bands on the same bill, maybe opening for Earthless

"Test of our Times" awakens me from my daydreaming, probably because the singing is so out of character from what we've heard up to now. The band call it a "seventies rock shuffle." It's freewheeling spirit might deceive you into thinking this is a carefree song, were not the lyrics handy.

Feeling alone as the days they slowly pass Too much time on my hands I should not complain for I know it will not last And it's easy for me A prayer to the souls who are fighting for their lives And the ones who gone And those who give care you are heroes of our time And we will not forget

Starts to surround can you feel it closing in Pressure it builds now the time is near Fork in the road with a choice unclear how Can we maintain so much doubt and fear Break in the clouds see it light it by the sun Can't go so far for this all to be undone Gathering now we breach into the night Test of our times will unite us in the fight

We're at a point in the album where the Chameleon is shifting into all kinds of far out color. Next up, "The Wolf'' returns us to the savage tone that opened the album, though this is a notch sludgier than we've encountered so far. And no wonder: it's about The Wolf of Badenoch, whom Solar Sons characterise as "a nasty bastard in Scottish history and folklore." This will likely end up a favorite of many of our listeners, with the gruff chanting of pawns. will. fall. for. Badenoch. juxtaposed with exciting guitar filigree.

"Beyond the Stars" really endeared itself to me on my second listen through the album. We're told it's about alien abduction -- "the good kind." Certainly, there's something transcendent about it. I'm reminded of similar climactic epilogues in Mastodon's 'Crack The Skye' (2009), Yob's 'Clearing The Path To Ascend' (2014) and 'They Come from the Future' (2009) by Biblical Proof of UFOs. And what a sublime ending! Breathtaking.

Fans of Mastodon, Spirit Adrift, Haunt, Age of Taurus, and Zirakzigil will dig it, for damn sure. And now, one day before the release of Chameleon by Solar Sons, Doomed & Stoned is bringing you the full album stream so you can get well acquainted. If you dig it, show the band some love.

Give ear...

Solar Sons - Chameleon (2021)

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 13: Filled emptiness (Part 5)

Warnings: addiction (+ withdrawal), mentions of assault, mentions of murder

Author notes: and here is the last part of the chapter...! I really hoped you liked it and that there was no drop in quality compared to the previous ones... That’s honestly my greatest fear about chapter 13... (and having Dazai OOC too...) For the moment, see you in the next chapter, which, hopefully, will come out soon! Thank you all for your support!

"He was deaf-mute?" Dazai asked.

Unable to calm down, even after going back to the Armed Detective Agency and spending an afternoon to type the report, I had decided to spend the evening with him, despite having my own place. My time at the police station had been so stressful that the entire box of morphine substitute had been emptied throughout the rest of the day.

"Yes…! And those idiots did not even notice it…" I groaned, angrily frying vegetables in the pan.

Uemura-san had sent me a text with a new recipe, and I had suggested to my friend to cook for him, for a change. Without much enthusiasm, he had accepted, even if it meant giving up on crab for a meal.

"Policemen these days are so unreliable~" He noted "But I can't believe that would make you so flustered~"

"... One of them dared me to read his mind…" I muttered, blushing again "I… It was disgusting, really…"

I shivered, suddenly feeling cold, and images of the man who had bought me five years ago flashed in my mind. I regained consciousness just before dropping my chopsticks, and shook my head. Nothing had happened… There was no reason for me to be scared of a man I could crush with a single punch, anyway…

"Ogawa? Are you alright?" He inquired, noticing my silence.

"Yes!" I hastily replied "I'm fine, it's nothing. I had a hard day, and I kinda miss morphine… The aftereffects of my therapy, I suppose."

"... I see."

I could easily see that he had guessed my concerns, and, perhaps innerly, I wished he would insist more, show me he really did care, somehow… Instead, I put on my brightest smile and lied, saying I was alright. I could not fool him, then why did he not ask me again, tell me that he knew, and that I should just talk to him…? No, if I really wanted to talk, I should just do so, anyway… It was not his fault. He was actually being considerate by not pushing the matter further. I should be grateful… Yet…

A wave of nausea hit me, and I rushed to the bathroom, feeling unable to hold it in. I ended up throwing up violently, my entire body shaking. That was different from when I was suffering from my ability. I could tell that this nausea had purely been provoked by the lack of morphine. I was craving it, unused not to have the familiar product circulating in my veins. Moreover…

"Are you alright, Ogawa…?"

I heard him lean onto the doorframe. He was there, watching, and I felt ashamed to give him such an unsightly show. I thought I could even cry in embarrassment.

"I'm…" I paused, spasming "I'm fine… Just…"

I threw up again.

"... The therapy… I crave… Morphine…"

"I know…"

Was that all…? He knew…? Then what…? I bit the inside of my cheeks. I could not let myself be influenced by the Fox's words. He was my friend, I knew him better than the informer ever would…

"Do you know what would do you some good?" He asked, coming closer to hold my hair back for me.

"... What would…?" I questioned after vomiting yet again.

"A warm bath." He smiled and patted my back slightly "I'll pour one for you."

"W-Will you…?" I tried to face him.

"Sure, why not? Oh, by the way, I turned the fire off. Your vegetables would have burnt otherwise~"

"Thank you, Dazai…" I cracked a smile "Thank you…"

"H-Hey, what are you — Ogawa…" He sighed "Crying again, aren't you…?"

"N-No, that's…" I sniffed "Mood swings… They're an aftereffect… Too…"

"Mmh, of course. An aftereffect…"

As promised, Dazai poured me a warm bath, before leaving the bathroom to give me some privacy. The water felt agreeable against my bare skin, and I soaked myself entirely in it, finally able to relax after that tiresome day. How could I have shown such a shameful part of myself? Although mood swings really were part of the withdrawal syndrome I was suffering from, I could not use them as an excuse to justify my weird behaviour.

"Ogawa, are you sleeping?" My friend's voice echoed from behind the door.

"Who sleeps in a bath?" I retorted playfully.

"At least, you seem a lot better."

I heard him slump against the door. He was most certainly sitting there, without saying a word.

"Dazai… Are you alright…?" I asked him.

"I am. But you should worry about yourself a bit more… I'm not the one suffering from withdrawal." He said.

"No, but you're still grieving your friend. You haven't been to work for two days. Kunikida has most likely given up." I giggled "I am just concerned about you…"

"You mustn't be." He told me, rather curtly "I cannot return that concern properly, anyway…"

I sighed.

"How much have you heard from my talk with the Fox?"

His silence followed, and I understood he had been aware of most parts of our discussion. I shifted in the water to lean on the edge, facing the door.

"Then, you must know I disagreed with him."

"You did… But I know all of that. I know I'm turned towards Odasaku and that I tend to overlook matters about you… I know I'm not an ideal friend, despite being the one asking you to stay by my side… And you… You comply with each of my whims, going as far as putting your own health aside…" He almost murmured by the end.

"That's because I do care about you." I smiled, although he could not see it "Besides, you gave me your coat, that morning. You always give me your coat when I feel bad…"

I paused, chuckling at the memories.

"Even when you were still my abusive superior, you had given me your coat to protect me from the rain, the day I had killed my parents…"

"I remember…" He chuckled, too "I even thought, at the moment, that you looked small, frail, and weak… You had nothing to do with a murderer."

"Frail and weak…? Despite all of my efforts to look tough…? I'm disappointed…!" I pouted.

"Well, that's also the reason why you're often… Taken advantage of." He sighed.

"Men are gross creatures." I huffed "I can't count the number of times I've been looked down at, or assaulted. I'm used to it, now. But reading that pig's thoughts took me aback, I have to admit it…"

"I could easily guess that. What amazes me, though, is the fact that, despite that, you're taking a bath at my place without a second of hesitation." He noted.

"That's because you're my friend. You've seen me in all sorts of situations, I know I can trust you. Am I wrong to do so~?"

"Well, I'm flattered." He sounded amused.

"Why, despite surely fooling around and acting as a womaniser, I know you're not perverted."

The water had cooled down, which was my signal to come out of my bath. With a towel, I dried myself, before reaching for my clothes. They were gone.

"Dazai, what did you do with my things?"

"Yosano-sensei came by earlier, looking for you~ I told you though, that you had drifted off in the bath~" He laughed "She asked me to, as she said, "burn the rags you use to cover yourself"... Pretty harsh, if you want my opinion~"

"Is she serious…? Really, now…!" I groaned "I suppose she brought over my new set of clothes…"

"Well… Not at all. She just demanded me to lend you a shirt for tonight, but she expects you to wear her gift~"

"For goodness' sake…"

My eyes fell onto the shirt he had put nearby. I had first thought that he had forgotten his there, but it turned out he had left it on purpose in the bathroom… I sighed.

His shirt was too big for me, as predicted, but it was vexing to notice it was covering a large part of my body. Was I, indeed, so small and frail…?

"Thanks…" I told him when I went out of the bathroom.

"No need to." He smiled "Do you want to keep working on your vegetables?"

I had completely forgotten about the dinner I was supposed to prepare.

"It's a bit late, but… Do you want to try it out?"

"I already promised I would." He sat down at the table.

"Then, I hope you won't regret it~ It can't be worse than the hard tofu you made, anyway…" I remembered "Sakaguchi-san hated it, and Odasaku was trying to be as polite as possible…!"

"It was a piece of art…!" He defended.

"It was a blunt weapon, Dazai… In fact, we couldn't even taste it." I giggled, putting a plate in front of him.

"Thanks~ Well, that tofu could have been a secret weapon of the Port Mafia… Imagine, killing enemies by throwing tofu on them…~!"

"That would have ruined our reputation…!" I laughed.

I believed the vegetables were cooked enough, perhaps even too much, for they had lost their crunchiness. Or was it because I had been away too long…? Next time, I would have to be more mindful of that… And perhaps I should add more salt…

"By the way…" Dazai said "You're leaving for Hokkaido?"

"Ah, yes…!" I realised I had not told him about it "The Fox requested my help as a detective."

"I see… That's good. Moreover, since it's summer, it won't be cold."

"That's right… It will be my first time leaving Yokohama…! I'm a bit excited about it…"

"Will it be alright, with your therapy?"

"It will. Don't worry about —"

I paused. Yosano-sensei had advised me against staying alone while receiving treatment for my addiction. I had an idea.

"Dazai… Won't you come with me to Hokkaido?" I suggested.

The smile which enlightened his face warmed my heart at the same time, and I knew I had made the right choice by asking him. His sincerity was a rare sight to witness… It was not a wrong path to walk down, making him happy, after all.