#april's notebook has seen better days

[shyalia]

This is a WIP featuring The Day the World Broke by @saladmix! I have had this idea in mind for a LONG time (since chapter 12 was posted) and have finally gotten around to starting it. I am very excited to work on this project!

Saladmix and I are working together to bring April's handy dandy apocalypse notebook to life! It will be filled to the brim with various notes, interviews, and the ever-growing monster compendium. To kick things off, here are two monsters first introduced earlier in the story: The Crier and the Walker.

[kats-fic-recs]

Bakudeku Fic Recs <3<3<3<3

(in the best way) you'll be the death of me

Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose. "Deku. You have compiled ten notebooks on me. You know my medical history better than my mother. And I have it on good authority that when you saw me in that stupid bee suit your face was so disturbingly perverted Mineta cried."

Or:

Izuku finds out there are still things about Kacchan he can learn and grows up in the process.

How Was Your Day?

"Hi Kacchan, how was your day at work?"

“YOU FUCKING PUNCHED ME THROUGH A BUILDING! THAT WAS MY DAY AT WORK!”

happy birthday, kacchan!

“The only thing that didn’t change was Deku.

Deku kept his unreachable dreams, kept the idea that he’d be a hero some day. Kept his notebooks, and his dumb All Might pencil case. Kept his hair the same and kept his stupid freckles and kept getting on Katsuki’s nerves no matter what Katsuki did to try and stop it.

And, every year on April Twentieth, Deku kept on bringing Katsuki gifts.

melodies of a heart unbroken

Gifts, wrapped crudely (though that slowly changed until they suddenly looked almost identical to Auntie Inko’s presents) with notes that would say ‘Happy birthday, Kacchan!’ in Deku’s ugly chicken scratch.”

***

aka a look at katsuki and izuku's relationship throughout the years, told through memories of birthdays.

Midoriya Izuku intends to get to the bottom of why he can't cry about love.

wrinkled oranges, pigeons, and other sweet things to call your significant other

Deku,” he says, suddenly serious. “I’m fucking bored.”

Izuku blinks. “Of me? It’s a bit late for a divorce now, I think.”

In the slow, boring routine of retired life, former Pro Heroes Izuku and Katsuki are growing restless.

Katsuki turns to Izuku, his lifelong lover and precious husband, and says, "I'm fucking bored."

Sure, they're way past seventy years old. But that's not going to stop Izuku from making the last years of their life as memorable as he can.

Saturday

“Hey there, you fucking nerd,” and only Katsuki Bakugou can say something like that and make it sound like a pick up line. “Whatcha got there?”

“Laundry,” Izuku says cooly. “What about you?”

Katsuki turns so Izuku can get a good look at him. Old sweatpants with a hole in the crotch. Loose fitting tank top that hasn’t seen an iron for centuries. His hands are wet, remnants of dish suds on his fingers like sparkling jewelry. “Dishes. They’re dirty. Gotta show em’ who’s boss.”

“Mmmm,” and Izuku is proud of himself for managing to moan like that without bursting into a fit of giggles. “Did I ever tell you how hot Domestic Kacchan is?”

[Or: There's something relaxing about doing housework when your job is to save the world]

Until We Meet Again

Change is the only constant in the world.

It is also the most terrifying ordeal a person has to endure.

With the War won and All For One vanquished, Izuku must prepare for the next chapter in his life: becoming a true Hero by following All Might's footsteps.

But dreams come with a price. Now, he prepares to leave everything he loves behind.

And loving Bakugou Katsuki the most makes it the hardest thing Izuku will ever do.

love meme, hate meme

It's time for the yearly Heroic Achievement Awards where well deserve pro heroes get to claim the honor and accolades that they accumulated in the previous year. This year the Best New Hero category is filled with powerhouses with big fandoms that is willing to do anything for their favorite to claim the honor of rookie of year.

But just as the stage is set for showdown of the century between the biggest named rookie in Japan, Deku and Ground Zero, and their respective fanclubs, one single social media post is about to upheaval everything.

Every Maiden Plays Pretend

“You have to promise not to tell anyone about Flame Heart Hero," says Midoriya. "Because the thing is… When I started drawing the manga, I based the main character off Kacchan.”

“Wh— Bakugo’s the heroine? Bakugo?”

For a second, Ochako thinks she’s entered an alternate universe. There’s no way shouty, stompy Bakugo belongs in a shoujo manga. He especially doesn’t fit as vulnerable, insecure Yurika-chan, who got captured by a villain in the first few chapters, failed her first Hero Class exercise and cried, lost at the Sports Festival and cried again, got kidnapped by villains in front of her whole class, didn’t get her provisional license, then got into a fight after-hours and cried some more…

“Holy shit,” breathes Ochako, “Bakugo’s the heroine.”

Public Displays of Affection

The freckled man hums and sinks lower, his eyes roving to the corner of the room like two huge green marbles rolling into the sides of a glass bowl and sticking there. He earns a sharp bang from the fist of his blonde companion hitting the counter like a gavel.

The dishes rattle with a startled clink, but the drunk man moping over them doesn’t even notice.

“What?!”

“Won’t drink with me,” complains freckles, leaning forward like a wilting sunflower on the end of a collapsing stalk. “Won’t let me look at anyone else, but won’t drink with me. Won’t even take a sip! The beer’s all warm and I can’t even count it as a secondhand kis—”

Across the counter, you choke on your own drink. The blonde does the same on his water - the only difference in poise is how quickly he smacks his freckled companion on the side of the head before he can finish his sentence.

A hero reaches out to touch the hearts of the people through their actions. Sometimes, they do it through heartbreak.

Bakugo and Midoriya as seen through your eyes - the eyes of a local firefighter - in an izakaya a few miles and hours away from tragedy.

Kiss Me?

Years after Katsuki left Izuku in the dust as a kid he's reminded of the gesture of affection that had his palms sweating and heart pounding when Izuku used to do it for him when they'd get scuffed up on the playground: kissing his band aids after patching him up.

Fast forward to the present and the dumb nerd is just going around offering up kisses to any old extra in their class except Katsuki and it's driving him insane. Despite him pushing these feelings within himself as deep as possible, it stings deeper than he could've ever imagined.

-

aka: izuku's love language is kisses

[waklman]

Tilly, do you write for Bobby?

not yet! i scrapped so many stories for him, but honestly i really might extend my fake it universe and give bob his own story there, just because i kinda love college frat boy bob

here’s something i scrapped for him tho! i don’t think i’ll ever finish it so i’ll share! (it was about lovers reuniting in the future)

-

Bob’s drawing blank—quite literally.

He’s been staring at the empty sheet of cartridge paper for what feels like hours, when it’s only been a few minutes at best. It’s another mundane Tuesday where he finds himself spending his evening with the only woman in his life—his therapist.

Try drawing what you feel, she told him. As if Bob even knows what he’s feeling, he’s paying her two hundred a week to help him figure that out—no?

If Bobby was a teenager again, sitting with a sketchbook in his lap—he would’ve brushed his digits over the fine toothed sheet just once to know exactly what he wanted there.

But this Bobby didn’t know what he wants there. This Bobby’s too busy trying to revive the dead hobby in his therapist’s office.

“Did I lose you, Robert?” Glenda asks gently, trying to get a read on him.

“No, it’s—yeah, you did,” he replies tiredly, eyes nearly shutting from fatigue. There’s no point in lying to a professional. It’s not like he has the energy to, anyway—not for today’s session at least.

There’s a beat of silence, where he’s left unanswered. Glenda’s waiting for him to look up at her—so he does.

Bob absently smiles. “You lost me,” he reestablishes—maintaining eye contact with her.

“That’s alright.”

It’s not alright actually—far from it, Bob thinks. This used to come so easy to him, it was second nature at one point in his life.

Bob says nothing, watching as she pulls opens her desk drawer, taking out something from there. Gently, she slides a colorful sheet of paper across her desk. “I have a better idea,”

Bob secures the book in his lap, leaning over to look at her “better idea”. Suddenly, he draws back in his seat as if the lifeless piece of paper was biting at him.

He swallows thickly. It's a promotion flier for a planetarium that’s having their grand opening this weekend.

“I can’t go—I’m moving into my new apartment next week,” he deflects.

“You can go the day after.”

—

Bob could recall the day he first met you as if it was yesterday.

It was drizzling outside, another April shower was starting to wash down that afternoon. Once school ended, Bob was quick to get to his car before the end of the day rush came, pulling out of his parking spot with one destination in mind—the planetarium on the far side of town.

As he drove into the guest lot—it rained down harder. And Bob didn’t hate, hate is bad for your heart, his Momma engraved that in him. But in his underwhelming teenage rebellion, Bob decided that he hated the bad weather. Whenever the sky wasn’t clear, neither was his mind.

So he hates it.

Clutching his sketchbook against his chest, Bob runs towards the main entrance, not wanting to watch his new drawings get ruined. But also not watching where he was going.

You crashed right into him, nose slamming against the leather cover of his book, triggering a nosebleed.

Bob’s flushed in embarrassment, muttering apologies over and over—as he bends down to pick up the notebook he knocked out your hands.

What happens next, sticks with Bob forever. You giggle—there’s blood is dripping down your chin, but you’re humored by his panic. To anyone else—this might’ve look horrifying, but Bob doesn’t think he’s seen a prettier sight.

[jasper-pagan-witch]

hi jasper, i hope this question isn't too annoying lol

so i seem to remember that you made a post (maybe an answer to an ask) detailing your personal journals/books for your wizardry, but i can't seem to find it. it was interesting to read, and i'm trying to compile my own magical notebooks and wanted some inspiration from the way others had made theirs.

did you make a post like that, or am i imagining it? lol. thanks in advance

I know I've done that. I know for a fact that that post exists. It's from April 18th of this year and is already outdated. So for you, anon, I'll talk about my currently in-progress magical grimoires and adjacent magical books.

Book Review Notes - a 3-subject college-ruled red spiral notebook. It's where I write the information down for my book reviews. I actually need to type up and post my review of Tarot By Numbers.

Challenge Book - a 3-subject college-ruled red spiral notebook from a different brand. This is where I do those 7/15/30/31 day challenges - usually all in the same day.

Book of Bullshit - a 1-subject college-ruled grey spiral notebook with a front pocket. This is my arcanabula, my orizon, this is where I write down frantic notes about spells or tarot spreads I'm developing, random notes of things I'm researching, and random thoughts that have no better place.

The Tome of Spells & Refinement - a 1-and-a-half-inch black o-ring binder where I keep the spells I have written (including ones that have never seen the light of Tumblr), my crystal grids, and information about my Magic The Gathering spells that I need to develop.

The White Binder - a 1-and-a-half-inch white d-ring binder. In here, I keep most of my miscellaneous information that I refer to a lot, including my MTG enchanting board, printouts of Dungeons and Dragons and The Elder Scrolls materials for me to review, and most of my non-pop culture magic information. My servitors and thoughtforms also have information in here.

The Epsilon Ledger - three faux-leather (aka plastic) notebooks from Walmart. These hold correspondences, information about necromancy and local magic, prayers and devotionals to deities...anything that's personal but not journal-esque. These are grimoires proper, only information, not musings or records of readings.

The Zeta Witchbook - a 1-subject college-ruled black notebook from the generic Target brand Up & Up. This was for the @2022grimoirechallenge before they fell off the face of the planet.

Enby Dragon - a cheap notebook from Amazon with a dragon in the nonbinary flag colors on the cover. This is where I keep my information on Flight Rising pop culture paganism involving the flights and the deities.

Volo's Journal - inspired by the D&D/MTG artifact of the same name, this is a fancy-looking grey sketchbook where I keep information on different types of non-physical entities and, well, animals alike. I use art cards from MTG for the visuals because my drawing abilities leave much to be desired.

Mixin' It Up - a 1-subject college-ruled purple notebook. Since I get some powders pre-mixed, I write down what they're made from and the mutually-shared correspondences between them.

This is to say nothing of the literal stack of empty notebooks that I am saving for future magical usage, nor of the notebooks that I used as grimoires and similar things earlier in my craft. I...may be mildly addicted to notebooks.

I hope this has given you a few ideas, anon!

~Jasper

[lcs-library]

Spending Valentine’s Day with Mankai!

🌸Spring troupe🌸

Sakuya

🌸A very traditional lad

🌸Buys you the basics: chocolate, flowers, and a small stuffed animal

🌸He also makes you breakfast, although it doesn’t exactly turn out…

🌸“Ah, I didn’t think you’d be up this early!! I tried to make breakfast for you… oh, you don’t have to try and help fix it, it’s fine!”

🌸Boy didn’t even know what hit him when you started picking up the burnt food, throwing it away, and starting a new dish.

🌸“Thanks for that. Oh, give me a sec… here! Happy Valentine’s Day, dear!”

🌸He has this dazzling smile on his face when he hands you his gifts, and you’re almost in tears with how happy and proud he is of himself.

🌸You ignore setting up a new meal in favor of trapping the sweet boy in a bone-crushing hug and a kiss on the forehead as thanks as he blushes

🌸“Oh, and I got you one more thing…”

🌸He softly whispers as he gives you a small peck on the cheek, releasing it with a loving smile

🌸“Hehe. I love you.”

Masumi

🎧Don’t try and tell me he wouldn’t put a bow on his head and say that he’s your present

🎧“Oh, you’re finally here. As you can see, I’m your present this year, so use me how you’d like.”

🎧Boy is so surprised when all you really want from him is just some cuddles and kisses

🎧“Just that? Hm, at least it’s better than nothing. Just keep in mind that I want some affection from you too, okay?”

Tsuzuru

🖋️Genuinely forgot about Valentine’s Day

🖋️So when you go to give him a new notebook, he asks what the occasion is.

🖋️“Hm? Oh, you bought this for me? Thanks, sweetheart, but you didn’t have to. Is there any special reason you did this? You know my birthday isn’t until April, right? Oh. OH. Oh nononono I fucked up.”

🖋️He promptly sets down everything he’s doing and sits you down on the couch to cuddle.

🖋️“Hey, no, come here. You’re not going to take care of me today, you do that every day. Today’s about you now, so get in here and I’ll order some food for us. What do you want?”

🖋️After the initial squabble, you decide on something to eat and hold each other close on the couch, with very few words in between the small kisses Tsuzuru placed around your face.

🖋️“I told you I’d spoil you with kisses back on POCKY DAY. Pocky day! That was in November and I never followed through! You’re getting them now, so you’re gonna sit still and let me spoil you a bit. It’s the least I can do with how horribly I’ve been doing lately.”

🖋️Just a very chill Valentine’s Day, and it was very enjoyable.

Itaru

🎮Got you a game specifically so he could play with you, the little shit.

🎮He sits you in his lap, turns on the console, and hands you a controller

🎮When you ask what he’s doing, he only replies with a “You’ll see.”

🎮He boots up a two-player rpg, and he tells you that he plans to finish it with you in one go.

🎮So that’s how you end up spending your day, but of course, Itaru being Itaru, there’s a bit of a catch.

🎮Every time you enter a particularly hard spot or boss battle, he starts kissing you all over to make it ten times more difficult than it already was.

🎮“Hm? You didn’t think I sat you here for no reason, did you? Heh, but you still wanna stay. Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this, right?”

🎮Evil bastard man I love him

Citron

🍋Waking up on Valentine’s Day with him was, well, a surprise to say the least

🍋“Good morning, darling!”

🍋You were fighting for your life as you tried to sputter out a reply, but struggled due to the rose petals that had been thrown all over you.

🍋Apparently, Citron thought it was a good idea to stand over your bed until you woke up, then shower you in flower petals as a romantic gesture.

🍋Although the sentiment was appreciated, the exposition was…iffy.

🍋“Oh, so sorry! I didn’t realize you would have struggled with this so. No matter! I made you food! Come see, come see!”

🍋You groggily got out of bed to trudge to the kitchen to find a spread unlike anything you’d ever seen.

🍋“Tada! I made food from my country for you to try! Do you like it?”

🍋Now it was your turn to make Citron struggle with a bone-crushing hug, showing just how happy he made you.

🍋“Oh! Ahaha, you’re welcome! Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Chikage

🌶“forgot” about Valentine’s Day

🌶“The date? What about it? Yeah, it’s the fourteenth, so? Hey, hey, don’t get mad, I didn’t actually forget, see?”

🌶With that, he pulled a flower out of thin air, tucking it behind your ear.

🌶“Today’s gonna be about you for once, so let’s do something fun, okay? My treat.”

🌶He finishes off the sweet sentiment with an equally sweet kiss, pulling away with a smug smile, pleased with how flustered you were

🌶“Come on, let’s go. I told you, today’s my treat.”

🌶WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH CHIKAGE

🌶better treasure this because you are NEVER gonna get this from him again

☀️Summer troupe☀️🍁Autumn Troupe🍁❄️Winter troupe❄️

[harveywritings92]

Bnha dad scenarios: Child default names and background stories.

[Tw: mentions of abortion.]

Dabi's kid/Ayane Name meaning: Kanji (Aya) meaning "Color" and (Ne) meaning sound.

Don't need to tell you that his little Firefly wasn't exactly planned, in fact he was completely blindsided when he found his FWB (now common law wife) was pregnant, he ran away! but, not from her... He disappeared for a couple days then showed up a while later in disguise duffle-bag in hand telling her to hurry and start packing up whatever she can carry; cuz they were leaving! Dabi and your mom relocated to a very small town in the countryside where the population is very small.

(like you could fit the whole township into a Boeing 737 small, and your nearest neighbor was 15 minutes away....)

From there they opened and run a roadhouse bar/motel. Dabi didn't marry his Fairy just because she was pregnant, he caught the feelings a long time ago and had been planning to runaway with her way before Ayane was even a distant thought, her impending arrival just pushed his plans forward. Ayane looks like her mother but her [y/hc] hair has little red streaks and she has partial heterochromia in her eyes, they look like someone colored them cerulean, but remembered halfway through that they were supposed to be y/ec, she also has Dabi's cocky smirk.

----------------------------------------

Katsuki's kid/Haruka name meaning:  Distant blossom: Uses the Kanji "Haru" in the word "Distant"  combined with the kanji "Ka" in "blossom".

 Having kids was very distant thought in the back of Katsuki's mind not that he didn't want any, He just thought he wouldn't have any, so then his wife told him that they were having a baby. he was over the moon, he didn't care if it was boy or girl just so long as they were happy and healthy, however as soon as it was confirmed that the the baby in his wife's belly was a girl.

Katsuki went scorched-earth on any boys that went near his little girl and Haruka has him wrapped around her little finger. She's his spoiled princess. Haruka looks like a carbon copy of her mom, but has her dad's temperament and potty mouth, she has partial heterochromia both eyes they're half red-half [y/ec]. 

---------------------------------------

Shigaraki's kid/Kururi name meaning:  Black Emerald: "Ku" from the kanji "Black" and "Ruri" meaning "Emerald". (Ngl she was also named after Kurogiri)

 He was completely blindsided when he found out his queen was having his child, he didn't know what to do with it, he considered having it "taken care of" but his queen threatened to leave him if he ever suggested that again! he was huffy and pouty during the whole pregnancy.  

He was also very protective, usually lingering near by or stalking his wife when she was out and about being careful of in case any heroes or lesser NPCs messed with her, then when the baby was finally born... and he held her for the first time, it was like "Holy crap! I made this...!" and suddenly the world wasn't looking so bleak anymore... and now that his wife is gone (rip) Shigaraki's main focus (as aside villainy) was on his daughter and making the future bright for her.

Kururi though not touch starved she is a bit wary of physical affection, and very socially awkward often preferring to read and or play videogames over socializing with other humans, her only friend seems to be Ayane (their friendship is similar to Orin and April from Parks and rec), They hang out mainly because Shigaraki wanted her have some sense of normality that he was deprived as child. however due to her quirk's nature and the guilt she feels over her mother's death, she has a complex over her hands, she doesn't like it when people try holding them or touching them, often seen wearing gloves or keeping them in her pockets. 

Kururi looks like her mom but has a little mole under her chin and has heterochromia her left eye is red while her right [y/ec] and her [y/hc] hair has a single blueish-white streak in it.

-----------------------------------------

Hawks-Keigo's kid/ Griffin or Finny: as in Griffin the mythical creature.

Keigo and his late wife chose that name because of their respective quirks, His wife had some feline traits cat eyes, and cat ears, it was kind of joke between their two names [Cheshire cat and a Hawk] then they first met, Keigo wasn't really interested in his wife at first, but that didn't stop her! so Keigo said if she could get Endeavor to laugh he'll take her on a date!

So she goes up to Endeavor and says "What happens when a hawk mates with a cat?..." The current number 1 looked at her bemused. "The English call it a Griffin, but I call it a cawk!" Hawks winced It was soo cringy, obscene and made no sense!... But it worked! Endeavor's lips twitched and he snorted! before breaking out in low chuckles, the rest is history.

Though his avian traits seemed to have overrode his wife's feline traits, I.e. {Finny has little red wings on her head instead of cat ears, and Keigo eye brows, However everything else is from his wife. the reality slip quirk {y/hc} hair and {y/eye} etc.

------------------------------------

Kirishima's kid/Akara: Name meaning "Red Lightning" {Aka} meaning Red and [Ra] from the word Rai meaning lightning.

Eijirou and his wife thought they were having a boy so Akara's name was originally going to be Akahito "the red warrior" so when the baby that came out was obviously a girl, he and his wife panicked and couldn't figure out or agree on a new name, until Mina suggest a holding raffle everyone wrote a name down and put it in a hat. and the first name they pulled will be their daughter's name, they pulled out Denki's choice and settled on it and considering Akara's quirk: Hard-charge. it fits pretty well. 

(She can harden her skin like her dad. however, with every hit she takes, she can absorb kinetic energy from it, the energy turns into electricity which she can use to deliver powerful electric discharge attacks.) 

Her mom is Denki's cousin by the way... Her mom's Quirk is called Static pinch, she can store small amounts of static electricity and release tiny zaps from her thumb index and middle finger, if she gets close enough to an enemy she use the stored energy in her body like a taser via "Vulcan nerve pinch".

  Akara looks like her mother but has her dad's sharp teeth.

--------------------------------

Shoto's kid/Koyuki name meaning "Little snow" kanji [Ko] meaning little and [Yuki] meaning snow.

Much like Katsuki children were a very touchy and distant subject for him, He was was always scared that he'll end up just like his father, he was adamant on having no kids, so when his wife announced that she was pregnant and keeping it, Shoto had a panic attack and ran off  for a couple days, until she calls Dabi who tracked him down and talked some sense into him...

(after punching him in the face for ditching his pregnant wife.) The his older brother pretty much told Shoto he's letting Enji win running off like that, and reminds him that they're both Endeavor's sons, but they are not their father, and will never be their father, they're better than him... and with that Dabi send his younger brother back his worried wife, Shoto apologizes and is working to prove he's not like his father. 

He keeps his daughter away from her grandfather who keeps badgering Shoto for another grandchild as he doesn't see Koyuki's quirk (Frost-breath) taking her anywhere in the future, Shoto has more or less politely told his father to go and pound sand.... as it was very difficult for Shoto's wife to conceive children and her pregnancy and birth was very stressful and traumatic for them, Koyuki was born prematurely and his wife had to stay in the hospital with a severe case of the flu.

Koyuki like  Shoto has bi-color hair on the left it's red and on the right it's [y/hc] she has her mom [y/ec] eyes she’s very happy and but timid child and often seen clinging to one of her parent's legs when stranger approaches, though she get's a bit more confident with time.

-------------------------------

Izuku's kid/ Hinamori Name meaning: "sunshine forest" combines the kanji [Hina] for sunshine and the kanji [Mori] for Forest.

Not a surprise when he the number 1 hero's wife started showing a baby-bump a year and a half after their wedding, however what came as a surprise was how protective Izuku became when Reporters and his more eccentric fans didn't know how to keep their boundaries, they would not stop staring at his wife's boobs and trying to touch her belly, Izuku would block their view or slap their hands away and repeat. "Your not my mother or her (Relative.) Don't touch my wife..." he'd discharge his quirk a bit showing that he wasn't kidding around... 

The attention seem to blow over once Hinamori was born mainly due to Izuku buying a house in a gated community so the press couldn't get in so easily and bother the new family, Hinamori looks like her mom but she her y/hc hair is wild like Izuku's and she has his freckles, she likes reading and is often found in Izuku's study reading his old hero observation books. and has actually been working on some of her own, as Izuku has found her little dinosaur notebook with observations on Haruka, Koyuki and Akara. 

-------------------------------

Denki's kid: Raika name meaning: Lightning flower uses the kanji [Rai] for lightning and the kanji [Ka] from flower. 

Raika wasn't exactly planned... See Denki and his little lady were on vacation see? there was this music festival in Niagara-falls, and well...He and his wife had few too many and well details are bit blurred, but... Raika may or may not have been conceived in a handicap stall, but if she ever were to ask everyone's been told to say it was after Denki recued his wife from a villain holding her hostage and Raika was the end result of his reward, luckily she doesn't seem really interested in knowing her parents sexual history.

So there's a good chance shell never know! Raika has her dad's quirk, her hair is y/hc with a yellow/black lighting bolt streaked into it and her y/ec eyes flash yellow when using her quirk. 

[slowpoke-fics]

The Good Doctor

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Negan x Reader

Summary: You're the doctor in Alexandria and Negan comes on a supply trip, taking something that doesn't belong to him

Warnings: depression, death, mentions of off self, gets a little triggering, I know I'm missing some, Negan is off character, nothing is exactly right in this, it's writing for writings sake

A/N: This is my first fic in years please forgive me for mistakes, it's just me in this operation, probably gonna be a whole series, here is part two!

May 20th

Negan's trucks roll into Alexandria again, loudly pushing past the gate and up to the medical center. Your insides start to rumble at the nervousness you have to see the ruthless man who knows no bounds. You reluctantly step outside and wait for him at your door, not doing well at hiding your displeasure of the loss of supplies.

When Negan and his men get out of their loading trucks, Negan shoots you his oh so dangerous smile before directing his men to their collections, keeping two of his men with him, he finally approaches you. "Well good fuckin' morning Dr. Y/L/N," he holds the door open for you, "after you, doll."

You moved past him, smiling at him, and walked to the stockpile of medication you had collected yourself helping Daryl on runs. "Please, only take what you are owed." Negan's men glared at you viciously, "We will take whatever we damn well please." Negan turned to face his men, "Now, we have a peaceful agreement here with the nice fuckin' doctor, get the supplies n lets go." You smiled at him, "Thank you for keeping your end of the bargain." Negan nodded, "I may be a fuckin' prick, but I am a man of my fuckin' word, ain't that all that fuckin' matters nowadays?" You nodded, waiting in silence for the men to complete their tasks.

After the men went through the supplies that laid before them, they pulled Negan to the side, obviously keeping their conversation private, one of them turning to you and flashing you a gut wrenching smile, you leaned on the gurney, waiting for the problem. Negan turned to you, scratching his chin, laughing lightly, "See doc, my men seem to really think that you've tried to short us this week," your eyes went wide, remembering what happened to the last person that tried to short Negan and his group, "I know you wouldn't fuckin' do that so can you just clear this shit up for us."

Scanning over the pages in front of you, "No," you cleared your throat, "I'm not short, its all documented here," you handed Negan the clipboard. As he scans over it, looking at your logs for every pill that comes in and out of this faux medical center, every date and name, the two men he placed with him rips your bag from your shoulders, dumping it out on the table, displaying the contents. Negan glances up, taking in the items on the table; a knife, a ripped up pack of spearmint bubble gum, a few pens, a small first aid kit, a few hair ties, stray items and a small leather bound notebook.

Negan slams the clipboard down, smiling at you, "I'll be damned she's fuckin' right boys, pack it up, it's all in the goddamned charts." You let out a breath of relief, a little worried to be Negan's next lesson. One of the men came close to you, pushing you backwards toward the gurney, "Don't test me bitch," backing away while still staring at you, he picked up your knife and waved it at you, "mine now, doll." The nickname reverberated evil inside you, at least when Negan did it, it felt at least flattering, but this man dripped poison from his words. At that though, Negan perked up, "Come on, shithead we've got things to do." You panicked, "No!" They all turned to you, "You cannot have my fucking knife," you backed up a little when the man stared you down, "please, it means a lot to me." The man started to say something, obviously furious you would even try ordering him, but Negan stopped him, taking the knife and handing it to you. The man he took the knife from grumbled and picked up your pack of gum, "Fuck you, keep your knife bitch, I'll take something sweet." Flashing you his smile, Negan was gone.

As you watched his trucks leave Alexandria, you finally returned to your work, cleaning up the mess his hooligans had made. Straightening the bottles, subtracting inventory, picking up your bag and sighing at the small amount of happiness you had as you realized that was the last pack of gum that you could find in a 50 mile radius. As you were putting away everything on the table, you started to move frantically looking for your notebook, under the table, around the table, even been looking all over the room. You couldn't find it. Your coping mechanism for the world moving at a pace that you just couldn't handle. A sense of dread washed over you as you realized, Negan.

He just couldn't help himself, just has to know what makes the good doctor fuckin' tick. Now, he just happens to have an all access pass to your thoughts in the zombie apocalypse. Humming to himself and relaxing into his seat, he peeled the book back at the marker for your most recent entry, picked a random nearby page and began reading.

April 23rd

celebrating yet another round of people. at some point I hit my limit, just can't keep meeting and greeting. feels pointless, I never see half of them, and when I do they normally die in my clinic. is this what it's become? death after death? mercy after mercy?

April 30th

every time someone dies in my clinic and I slide a knife through their skull it just reminds me this is how it will end for us all. we'll all just be the walking dead in the end. when's my turn? when do I get to finally stop running this rat race and throw in my damn towel? everyone else gets to say goodbye seems fair

Goddamn, Negan thought to himself, there's an entry here for every fuckin' day. He readjusted, taking in where they were at and how long he had to read for now, planning to figure out how you worked. No shame in wanting the pretty doctor.

May 4th

so fucking stupid, absolutely incompetent, couldn't even find antibiotics. couldn't find any gauze or even disinfectant. what a waste of gas, we're beginning to pick clean every building, car and trash can in a 50 mile radius. how long do we have left with the saviors breathing down our neck

May 12th

found some supplies, couldn't find enough, not enough, people treat the medicine like it's never ending but I just can't keep up there's nothing left, there has to be something that I can do, has to be something out there for me to find, it can't just be all gone, I'm not thinking of something, there is something out there I just have to be fucking smart enough to find it

May 15th

risk is worth the reward, I finally found some more antibiotics, and hit the fucking jackpot, found some chewing gum, melted Twix for Judith, and a knife for henry after I lost his in that horde, indescribable emotion when I had that first piece of gum that reminded me of how it used to be, when I was surrounded by support and family, gotta make it last

May 16th

henry was carried in by rick and daryl. henry was conscious, talking, don't let me turn, he begged. rick said he fell from a third story window. daryl grabbed alcohol and gauze, rick grabbed the stitch kit while I cut open henrys shirt, glass, at least two dozen pieces, please be manageable. I grabbed the tweezers and pour alcohol on henry's chest, his screams. half an hour in, he's seizing, rick grab buccal midazolam, place it in his mouth, hold him still until it stops, wait for a beat, no beat, cpr, one hundred twenty seconds in, can't let him turn, wait for beat, no beat, knife.

had to be something more.

henry was carried in by rick and daryl. henry was conscious, talking, don't let me turn, he begged. rick said he fell from a third story window. daryl grabbed alcohol and gauze, rick grabbed the stitch kit while I cut open henrys shirt, glass, at least two dozen pieces, please be manageable. I grabbed the tweezers and pour alcohol on henry's chest, his screams. half an hour in, he's seizing, rick grab buccal midazolam, place it in his mouth, hold him still until it stops, wait for a beat, no beat, cpr, one hundred twenty seconds in, can't let him turn, wait for beat, no beat, knife.

Negan shifted uncomfortably, this went on for at least ten pages, questioning every move you made, reliving putting down a good friend of yours, is this how you mourn?

May 17th

This is it. surrounded by death, my turn.

Fuckin' christ, Negan thought, now realizing that the good doctor is too fuckin' hard on herself. Realizing that you had your own horrible demons, and that this world is starting to get to you.

May 19th

Guess not.

Negan felt horrible for taking this, he felt like he had taken a piece of you, just trying to figure out which buttons to press to make you want him like everyone else, he definitely didn't expect this. He had to give it back, had to find a way to make it better, and he just might have a plan.

May 21st

You woke up feeling empty, just going through the motions, getting dressed, brushing out your hair, brush your teeth, quarter of a piece of gum- no. Walk to the clinic, not hungry today. You sat in your chair, clipboard on lap, staring at the door, waiting for your next victim to come through. After about two hours, you hear a few bikes pull into the gate and getting closer. Taking a peak out the window, you see Negan at your clinic doors with a relatively large backpack on, and the same two men he had with him yesterday, and an extra woman who you had never seen before.

Negan walked into your clinic, the woman standing at the door but not stepping in, and you couldn't do anything but get your knife out. "What the fuck are you doing back here?" You pointed the knife at him, not going to let him take anymore of your hard earned supplies. "You raided yesterday and stole from me! The kind of nerve a selfish prick like you-" Negan pulled out your book and an unopened pack of spearmint gum. You lowered your knife, looking at him like a confused puppy, and then jerked the book out of his hand, leaving the gum. "It's a fuckin' peace offering, doll," Negan held out the gum, but you didn't take it, just stared at him. "I don't want it, you don't get to take all of our lessening supplies and steal from me after I've been nothing but honest trying to keep our deal for no violence and then just come offering a pack of gum your henchmen stole from me! I worked for that! I worked for all of this! I was good to your men! I was good to you, Negan!" You started tearing up and turned away from him, mindlessly putting your journal back in your bag, sighing in great relief that it was returned to you.

"Doll, I didn't fuckin' mean to upset you, I didn't fuckin' know what it was-" Negan stepped closer, setting the bag he carried on your table, "it's not the only peace offering, I've got two more." He sat the gum next to the pack and took your place in the chair, spinning around. You emptied the pack, meds, gauze, a Twix bar, and a few cases of extra supplies. You immediately turned to him, eyebrows raised, "What's the fucking catch? Nobody gets anything from you without a catch." Negan smiled, scratching through his beard, that trouble causing smile, "You gotta come back with me." You scoffed, gawked at that. "Are you serious? You want me to come back with you, with the saviors? Why? That's not even possible, I-I'm needed here, I'm the only one whose been studying the medical books, only one that can tell their ass from their end, that's just stupid-" Negan stands and points to the woman at your door. "Cue the next fuckin' offering, Amelia. She knows what she's fuckin' doing, she's a good one and fuckin' despises my fine ass, so I know that your fuckin' people are in good hands. You only gotta come for a week, just a fuckin' week."

You sighed, not sure what to do, but only had seconds to figure it out, "Okay," you moved closer to him, "on two conditions." Negan smiled, turned on by your big balls of courage to demand something from the man who mercilessly beat the shit out of people with a barbed wire bat. "I have today to train her on how to keep things in order while I'm gone, and next week, you leave Alexandria alone, and no taking extra in two weeks, we get to keep our extra supplies for next week." Negan scoffed, unbelievable that you'd demand that, he's gotta run his own group, "Are you fuckin' joking sweetheart?" You laughed, packing up the supplies and giving the bag of supplies back to him, "No, I am not," you pulled back and crossed your arms, "so how bad do you want me, Negan?"

[janetbrown711]

"its fine, really! I'm used to it...” “what you meant you’re used to it??” but yax

After careful and long hours of research, Yakko came to the conclusion that he at least admired Max.

He had only seen Max in person once, but there was just something magnetic about the far-away prince that intrigued and fascinated Yakko. So much so, that for the next month or so, Yakko dove headfirst into studying all he could about Max and his country. He tried to share the fascinating history and details with his younger siblings, but they clearly weren't as into it as he was. That didn't deter him though, he was determined to learn absolutely everything he possibly could- even going into Angelina's old private study for books.

It was weird not having her around to stop any of it. Was this what pure joy and excitement with no downsides was like? If so, Yakko really liked it.

Either way, he was ecstatic when his mother told him she was officially making plans to take him to Disneyland to see Max (and diplomatic stuff, but they both knew that wasn't the main reason). Upon hearing the news, he then hurried and changed his studies entirely into conversations and how to have them.

Upon his and Max's first encounter, Yakko realized he was terrible at conversations, but now Yakko swore he'd be better than good- he'd be a conversation master. He studied examples both fictional and non about advice and how royals interact with each other and conversations one was supposed to hold and he complied his notes into a handy notebook that could fit into his pocket in case he got into a tough spot mid conversation. After all- he'd probably be there for hours and hours- that's a long time to be entertaining.

So he poured himself into his studies for a week or so (time was really alluding his grasp as of late) and before he knew it, it was time for him to go. However, not before a weird reaction from Wakko he wasn't expecting... seriously, if anything, Yakko expected Wakko to be happy for him because that meant he wouldn't have to hear about Disneyland for awhile, but instead he got really accusatory. But his parents assured him that it was nothing and his mother went to comfort him while he prepared for his journey.

"That's a big notebook," Dot said, lurking by his door as he flipped through his notes for what must've been the millionth time this week.

"I have a lot to remember," Yakko said, putting it in his pocket.

"Why do you care so much?" Dot asked. Yakko blinked.

"I just... do? He's the first friend I've had... ever," He said, making her move so he could head out the room.

"But I thought me and Wakko-..." Dot didn't finish her sentence. Yakko stopped.

"Max is just... different. I can't explain it- I'm trying to understand, but he's really just... different. A good different," He tried his best to explain, but he knew it fell short.

"Oh... you must really like him?" Dot asked.

"I guess, yeah," Yakko blushed. "He's just- the coolest person I've ever met, and now that Grandma's gone and I'm free to just- hang out with people, yeah," He scratched the back of his neck, aware of the fact he needed to get going. When Dot didn't respond to that, he pursed his lips.

"Welp- I gotta get going," He gave a quick wave, not waiting for her to return it before getting going- he wanted to spend as much time as possible in Disneyland.

Hurriedly, he rushed down the halls all the way down the grand stairs and out the main doors to the carriage, where his mother was waiting for him.

"Getting something?" Lena teased, as the coachman opened the door for them.

"Just a few notes," Yakko said, following his mother as she entered. She chuckled.

"You don't need to be so nervous, dear. From what I've seen, Max already likes you very much," Lena said soothingly as the carriage started to move.

"I just... I want this to be perfect," Yakko sighed, and leaned against the window of the carriage.

Lena snorted. "You and I have a lot in common," She said, fiddling with the fingers of her gloves.

"The last time I was out of this castle before the incident was- well... the wedding... but before that? I don't think I've ever been out..." The queen looked back as her home grew further and further away. "Outside of parties and suitors I've never really dealt in diplomatic situations. God knows my mother never prepared me for half of the things- I just..." She took a deep breath.

"I want this to go perfectly too... but Scratchnsniff says perfection is an impossible goal and we should aim for something more obtainable," She reminded herself. Yakko glanced at her briefly, before returning to the window.

He wasn't sure what he thought of Scratchnsniff. Dot and his parents all seemed to like him, but he still hadn't opened up to him, even though it had been over a month now. They'd be doing... okay sometimes, but the moment the doctor tried talking about Angelina, Yakko refused to give him the satisfaction. He knew he was there to help but- yeah... That wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"We got a long ride, huh?" Lena chuckled, more nervously this time.

"Yeah..." was all he said. He had a lot on his mind, and he could tell his mother did too. Hopefully, by the time they actually arrived, they'd be able to make sense of everything and enjoy their time in Disneyland- though they'd have to wait and see.

.o0o.

The ride wasn't terrible, but it was rather long and tiresome, so it was easy to say that when they finally arrived they were both relieved.

Both Yakko and Lena were surprised at just how different Disneyland was from Warnerstock just from the windows. Everything was brighter, orderly to the point of confusion (to them anyway), and boy oh boy was it big. The castle itself was the biggest example of this, as it seemed to have countless towers and was impossible to take in all at once. Then again, the royal family was quite large and Disney was known for it's welcoming nature and having guests often, so it didn't really surprise them. It was just a lot to take in at once.

However, they didn't have to take that all in for long, as they were guided inside by a few guards and were taken to the throne room, where the three kings were sitting- a duck on the left, a mouse in the middle, and a very tall dog on the right.

"Angelina? Wow, it really is you! How have ya been?" The Mouse immediately stood upon seeing them enter.

"Mickey! Oh it's been years hasn't it?" Lena chuckled and went and hugged him, which the mouse gladly returned, leaving Yakko and the others very confused.

"Do... you... know him?" Yakko raised an eyebrow.

Lena cleared her throat and stepped back. "Right- yes, I forgot to tell you, Michael here was a suitor of mine back in the day," She explained. "Obviously, it didn't work out, as both of our hearts belonged to another, but it wasn't a completely terrible three days."

"Oh please, I'm Mickey to friends," Mickey said. Lena nodded.

"Right, yes, Mickey," Lena corrected.

"Oh," Yakko nodded slowly.

"You must be Yakko then. It's a pleasure to have you as a guest," Mickey smiled and shook Yakko's hand. The dog king's head perked up.

"It's a pleasure to be here," Yakko replied, hoping his nervousness wasn't showing.

"Prince Yakko?" The dog king stood and walked over. "It's a pleasure to meet you, h'yuk," He laughed as he shook Yakko's hand. "Max has told me about you."

"Oh, you must be Goofy, pleasure to meet you," His nervousness increased tenfold. He couldn't believe he didn't put that together upon seeing him immediately.

"Daaaaaaaaad," Max entered the room, looking at the ground with his face red as a tomato.

"Hiya Max! I was just introducing myself to your friend here," Goofy grinned, still shaking Yakko's hand.

"This is why I don't tell you things," Max muttered to himself. "Can we go?" He asked, grabbing Yakko's arm, freeing him from the handshake.

Mickey nodded. "Of course, we got our own business to deal with, you two have fun," He said, and with that, Max practically dragged Yakko out of the room.

"I am so sorry you had to deal with that," He sighed as the guards closed the door behind them and Max let go of his arm.

"Deal with what?" Yakko tilted his head slightly.

"My Dad- he just- he doesn't know when to stop no matter how many times I talk to him," Max shook his head. "C'mon, I know a good spot to hang out. Watch out for running triplets."

"Running triplets?" Yakko raised an eyebrow.

"Huey, Dewey and Louie like running around without warning- as do Morty and Ferdie and if Daisy's over then so do April, May and June- just keep an ear out for them," Max explained, checking both ways before crossing a hallway.

"Right, right," Yakko nodded, not really understanding how they'd ever be allowed to do that. Then again, not having a tyrannical grandmother around probably let them have a lot more freedom and fun.

The pair went down a few halls, always checking both ways as they went, before they reached a room that Max let him into to reveal that it led to a fairly small room with a few chairs, but outside of that was a large balcony it was clear the dog prince frequented.

"Nice place," Yakko admired the room as Max opened the glass doors for him.

"I come here a lot to clear my head," Max said, closing the door behind him. "And to get away from my family."

Max must've really not liked them, huh...

"Yeah... I could really use a place like this," Yakko admired the craftsmanship of the columns holding up the railing.

"Watch this," Max winked, picking up a stone from a pile of rocks, and throwing it down into the giant pond in the garden bellow, causing a massive splash and ripple.

"Cool," Yakko said.

"It's nothing really," Max blushed again and went to where the rail met the wall and sat on it. "Wanna sit?" He patted the spot next to him.

"Oh- I uh-..." Yakko peered over the edge cautiously. It wasn't too far a fall, but still. It was easy to say it was far enough down to make even the most un-acrophobic person a little nervous.

"Oh, are you afraid of heights? I'm sorry, I-"

"No no no, I can handle it," Yakko swallowed his fear and sat next to him, glad that it was wide enough for him to feel supported. Still, he wrapped his tail around the edge loosely as a precaution.

"So... what do you think?" Max asked. "Of Disneyland, I mean."

"I think it's really... different. Very organized, very..." Yakko thought to himself. "Very homogeneous and large, yeah."

Max snorted. "Homogeneous?"

"It means similar or 'the same'," Yakko cursed himself internally. Max laughed with a little 'hyuk' in there that made Yakko relax, though a familiar fluttering in his stomach returned.

"You're really smart, aren't you?" Max asked.

"Yeah... my grandmother's pride alright," Yakko looked at the garden.

Great, barely five minutes into the conversation and he already broke his number one rule he wrote to himself: Don't bring up Grandma.

"I don't think it's your grandma's fault you're smart. If that was true, then I'd be a lot more wacky like Dad," Max did his best to reassure, which despite all odds did kinda work.

"You keep bringing up how much you don't like your family," Yakko commented. "Why?"

"Why? You've barely even met them- they are just beyond crazy and drive me up the wall with how embarrassing and tiresome they can be," Max crossed his arms.

"I mean- my sibs can be a little crazy at times but I still like them," Yakko said.

"You don't know them," Max sighed, looking out to the garden too. Yakko decided it was probably best he drop the subject for now.

However, after that was a long stretch of silence, and Yakko started to panic as it got longer and longer and he couldn't think of a thing to say. Thankfully though, he remembered the notebook sitting in his pocket and he slowly and carefully took it out and looked for a good conversation starter.

"What is your favorite type of weather?" He asked, quickly slipping it back into his pocket. Max immediately burst into laughter.

"Where'd you think of a question like that?" He asked.

"If you don't like it I can ask a different one," Yakko turned bright red as he flusteredly turned over, pulling out the notebook and flipping through it.

"Do you have a notebook of conversation starters?" Max caught a glimpse.

"Whaaaat? Me??? Pssshhhh," Yakko adamantly denied, but he sighed, knowing he had been caught.

"Yeah... I figured since I majorly screwed up talking like a normal person last time I'd take some notes so the conversation would be far less depressing and not so... trauma centered," He admitted, showing him the notebook.

"Wait- you think you're screwing up?" Max seemed baffled, which confused the Warnerstockian Prince.

"I mean- yeah..? No matter what I do I always end up thinking about the same stupid topic and I dunno... you seem so much more normal than me," Yakko admitted, looking away.

"I feel like I've just been a bumbling dork this whole time," Max admitted too. "You've been really smart and interesting this whole time, with your fancy words and observations about stuff and... yeah," He scratched his neck.

"You think I'm interesting?" Yakko looked at him.

"Yeah man," Max looked at him, though only briefly. "You're... cool."

That made the fluttering increase tenfold.

"You're really cool too," Yakko smiled. Max nodded his head in acknowledgement, looking out to the garden once more.

"You know... I promised I'd give you some sporting pointers when you came by. Perhaps I should 'make good' on that promise," Max said, gesturing to the pile of rocks and other such objects clearly designated for throwing into the pond.

"Okay," Yakko agreed to it, putting the notes back in his pocket, following Max as he went over to the pile.

"The trick is that it's all in the wrist, and if you keep your eyes focused on where you wanna throw it, it does a lot to help it actually go there," Max said, as he picked up a rock and threw it with all his might, and it crashed far into the pond.

"In the wrist, huh?" Yakko nodded and acted like that made sense. He then picked up a rock, and threw it with all his might. However, his might was rather pathetic, and all he managed to do was to crack the tiling around the pond and it shattered into pieces, as Yakko felt the blood drain from his face.

"Max, I-i'm so so so so so so sorry, I-i-" Yakko sputtered out apologies but Max just started laughing and laughing.

"It's okay Yakko. We're royalty, remember? My dad'll just have someone fix it, it's totally cool," He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "But hey, other than that, that wasn't half bad."

"She'd totally kill me if I did that at home though," Yakko cursed himself.

"She? Who, your mom? Cuz from what I've heard she's a big sap," Max said, confused.

"Not mom, my grandma," Yakko sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Your grandma's dead, Yakko. She can't punish you for that. You can break all the tiles you want here, it's cool," Max said, now deeply concerned for his new friend.

"Right- you're absolutely right. I'm sorry," Yakko took a deep breath.

"It's cool... I get that it must be hard moving on from that," Max's hand lingered on Yakko's shoulder a minute before he put it down.

"Yeah..." Yakko sighed as he realized he broke the rule yet again.

"I know you probably don't want to, but if you ever need or want to talk about it, I'm more than happy to listen," Max offered. Yakko smiled a little.

"Thanks... that means a lot more than you probably know," He said. Max smiled too.

"You're a lot cooler than you give yourself credit for, you know?" Max said. "You may not be the best at sports, but you are really good at talking, which is more than I can say."

"You sell yourself short," Yakko disagreed.

"Maybe we both do," Max shrugged, returning to the ledge.

"Yeah... maybe," Yakko said, sitting next to him once more.

As they began to chat more about much lighter and happier topics, a warm spring breeze began to rush by and Yakko began to just... notice things about Max. The way his fluffy and wild hair flowed in the wind, the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about one of his passions, his cute laugh that he always seemed to try and suppress, the way he stuck his hands in his pockets, his smile, the compassion and comradery in his eyes...

Yakko could gaze into those eyes for an eternity.

"It's getting pretty late... isn't it?" Max began to notice the sky beginning to turn a rosey shade of pink as the sun began to set.

"Yeah... I guess that means we have to get going soon, huh?" Yakko tried to play it casually, but he knew he'd miss Max dearly. Max's side glances told him he felt the same.

"Maybe you can write to me? A-and maybe... Maybe I'll convince dad or Uncle Mickey to take me to Warnerstock?" Max scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to play it cool.

"I'd love that," Yakko smiled, before pondering if using the word "love" was inappropriate. It wasn't like he- well... liked him, or anything... right..?

"Okay," Max smiled back.

They stayed smiling at each other much longer than was normal, though neither really minded.

"Maxy? Yakko?" The voice of Goofy called for them outside the room outside the balcony.

"I need to go," Yakko said. "But... I will write, I promise."

"I believe you," Max nodded. "Though... don't be surprised if my letters are short and my handwriting attrocious- I'm not the best when it comes to any of that stuff," He said, getting down from the rail, offering his hand to "help" Yakko down.

Yakko took it.

"I'm sure it won't be any worse than Wakko's," He said.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Max chuckled as Yakko got off, still holding his hand.

However, they instantly let go when Goofy entered the room.

"There ya are- you're mom's looking for you. It's gettin' late," Goofy said, opening the glass door.

"Right, yes.. thanks, dad," Max pursed his lips and looked away.

"I'll write, I promise," Yakko said.

"Y-yeah, okay," Max nodded and smiled. "I'll... see you soon."

"See you soon," Yakko nodded, before forcing himself to walk away (a task that was a lot harder than he expected it to be). Goofy then guided him back to the throne room, where his mother was talking with Mickey and Donald (Yakko figured that was who he was), but she stopped when he entered.

"There you are," She smiled as he returned to her side. "Have fun?"

"Yep," He nodded briefly, hoping she didn't expect him to get into detail here and now.

"It's been great catching up, Angelina," Mickey told her.

"I couldn't agree more. And it's been a pleasure meeting you two, Goofy, Donald," She nodded at both of them. "I'm afraid I must get going, but I'd love to meet up again sometime- or possibly take Max off your hands for an afternoon," Lena teased Yakko, causing him to turn red.

"I'm sure he'd love that," Goofy smiled.

"Have a safe trip," Donald said in the scratchiest, most garbled voice Yakko ever heard in his life. It was so incomprehensible he had to actively bury his shock and confusion as to not offend him.

"Thank you," Lena nodded at the three of them. "It's been a pleasure, truly."

"Yeah.. see you," Yakko felt like he had to say goodbye too, but having not just spent the past several hours with them, it felt awkward. Mickey chuckled.

"See you," He said.

With that, Lena and Yakko made their way out of the castle and back into their carriage and began on their way back home.

"So... how was your day?" Lena asked once the carriage began to move.

"It was nice. Max is... cool," Despite his research, cool was still the best word to describe him.

"That's good, he seems like a very nice kid," She nodded in approval. "I wouldn't mind having him over sometime in the future."

"That'd be great," Yakko agreed with enthusiasm that made her laugh.

"Okay, I'll arrange a date," She chuckled.

"What about your day? How was all those meetings?" Yakko asked, not just out of politeness but a genuine curiosity.

"I half expected Mickey not to remember me, so it was a pleasant surprise. And Goofy and Donald are quite the lovely characters too, very strong personalities. I can see why their kingdom works so well," She said with a nod.

"But I know you really don't want to hear about all that. Please, tell me more about Max," Lena said.

Yakko told her all that happened, not glossing over a single detail. She listened with intent, and couldn't help but laugh here and there.

"It sounds like you're rather fond of Max, no?" She said.

"What do you mean?" Yakko blinked. His mother chuckled to herself.

"Oh nothing, I'm sure you'll figure it out on your own in due time," She said.

"Okay..?" Yakko raised an eyebrow, not sure where she was getting at. However, it was clear she wasn't going to be giving any more hints so Yakko dropped it.

Whatever it was, she clearly had perfect faith he'd figure it out sooner or later, so perhaps it was best he focus on other things- like what he was going to write in his letter to Max. There would be so many topics to choose from, and this time he'd have all the time in the world to think of a perfect response. Honestly, he should've started writing letters sooner. It just made so much sense- Yakko could think of the perfect response before sending it away and he could read over Max's responses over and over again. Maybe he could even find a box to store them in. That sounded really nice...

Yakko thought back to his mother's words, and decided it was true.

Yakko was rather fond of his dear friend, Max.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 The End

[robinrunsfiction]

Happy Birthday

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader Rating: General Requested By: None Word Count: ~900 Author’s Note: There are 3 hours and 15 minutes left of Gerard's birthday weekend (from where I'm sitting) so I'm not counting this as late ���

As you walked into your apartment building after work one night, you noticed something on the floor in front of the mailboxes. When you got closer you realized it was someone's wallet. You hoped it was one of your neighbors, and not some poor postal or delivery person that you'd have to track down. Picking it up, you flipped it open to see who it might belong to, and staring back at you was your neighbor from across the hall, Gerard.

A smile formed on your lips involuntarily as soon as you saw his photo on his drivers license. How was it possible that he always managed to be so cute? Then your nosey nature got the better of you. Sliding the ID out further, you glanced over his personal details; hazel eyes, oh you were aware, 5'9" seemed about right. His birthday was April 9th, that made him an aries, and wait! April 9th was in a few days! That’s when an idea sprung to mind.

Gathering your mail from the mailbox, you headed up the stairs and first stopped at Gerard's door.

"Hey (YN)," he smiled when he opened it.

"Hey Gerard. I found your wallet by the mailboxes. I didn't steal your credit card number or anything, I just checked the ID and saw it was yours," you laughed nervously.

"Wow, thank you!" He replied, taking it from you. "I gotta be more careful."

"No problem," you smiled, but then an awkward silence lingered between you. “So yea, I’ll see ya around.”

“Oh, yea, see ya,” he said a little reluctantly, as if there was something else he wanted to say. You turned back to your door, but glanced back over your shoulder at him. He was still in his doorway and gave you a small wave, which you returned before walking through your door.

~

It was April 8th and you were putting the finishing touches on the cake you’d baked for Gerard. You had no idea if he preferred chocolate or vanilla, so you'd settled on a box of funfetti cake mix while at the grocery store. You crossed the hall, cake in hand and hoped that he would be home when you knocked. Luckily a moment later he opened the door with a smile.

“Hey (YN), what’s up?”

You awkwardly held up the cake and his face lit up. “When I found your wallet, I saw your birthday and I know it’s tomorrow not today, but I didn’t know if you’d be out tomorrow and I just wanted to do something nice,” you rambled.

“Thank you, that’s so nice! Do you wanna come in and have a slice?” He offered, opening the door further.

“Sure,” you nodded following him in. You’d popped into his apartment before, and talked in the hallway when you ran into each other, but you hadn’t really hung out before. You took in the space; it seemed like there were comics and notebooks everywhere, and the smell of coffee filled the air, along with the scent of cigarettes that always clung to his clothes.

“Coffee?” He asked as he cut the cake.

“Sure! So do you have any plans for your birthday?"

Gerard shook his head. "My brother usually drags me out to celebrate, but he's outta town, so I'm not gonna do anything."

"Well then I'm glad I could help you celebrate even a little," you said following him back to the living room, cake and coffee in hand.

"I appreciate it. Oh sorry, let me clear that off," he said, picking up a stack of sketches and notebooks from the coffee table. "I was working on some stuff."

"Songs or comics?"

"A little of both," he laughed lightly. "Umm, do you wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Sounds good,” you answered as you settled in on the couch as Gerard started looking through his collection.

“How about Back to the Future?” He suggested.

“One of my favorites!” You nodded.

The benefit of it being a movie you’d seen countless times was you and Gerard didn’t feel the need to pay too close of attention and could keep talking as it played in the background. You weren’t even aware of how long you’d been at Gerard’s apartment, you were only vaguely aware of the DVD menu running on repeat in the background after the movie had finished. A yawn eventually escaped your lips and you glanced at your watch.

“Wow, I didn’t realize it has gotten so late, but let me be the first to officially wish you happy birthday Gerard,” you smiled.

Gerard smiled back bashfully. “Thanks (YN). And thanks for hanging out tonight and for the cake and everything. It’s probably been the best birthday celebration I’ve had in a long time.”

“Because you didn’t get dragged to a party you didn’t want to go to?” You laughed.

“Because I got to spend it with you,” he replied.

“Oh,” you gasped.

“(YN), do you wanna go out sometime? Don’t feel like you have to say yes because it’s my birthd-”

“Yes,” you interrupted. “I would love to!”

Gerard grinned and laughed lightly. “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to do that for a while.”

“I’m glad you did,” you smiled back. “I should get going though, it is really late.”

“Thanks again for everything,” he said getting up as you made your way to the door.

“Happy birthday,” you replied before leaning in and placing a kiss on his cheek, leaving him blushing in his doorway.

[kim-ruzek]

It's my wonderful Cíara's ( @fighterkimburgess ) birthday today and if there's one thing anyone should know about me it's that birthdays are my Thing. Any day that brought any of the important people to me into the world is a day worthy of celebrations.

My plans started months ago-- about a month into our friendship, I think. That was when I first thought, since I was writing, that I should write something for whenever Cíara's birthday is.

It was, I think, June when I began my list of "Things Cíara Loves"-- a list that has now completely taken over the page in my writing notebook, full of all the things they love, all in anticipation for birthday gifts.

Y'all, I had Plans. I was gonna do so much. At the very least I had distilled it down to three fic gifts: the main fic, a fic idea that incorporated as much of what they love as possible. the secondary fic, which was gonna be me buckling down and actually finishing one of the many ideas I had that I keep teasing them with. And the third fic, a burgwater Soulmate au.

I ended up only doing the third one. I wrote it first so I could focus on the others, but alas, life got in the way. I got sick and ill and injured and grumpy and depressed and I can't even believe that I could happily write 4k words in one day earlier. And as I said birthdays are my Thing, so when November came by and I still was nowhere near getting better, I was completely devastated. And I mean devasted-- I'm not ashamed to admit there were tears, because I had plans!!! It's a day of celebrating the most incredible person ever and I wanted to give them gifts-- wanted to write fics just dedicated to them, fics that had our friendship, our memories, our bond, our braincell and love woven throughout them, winded around the words and forming the very foundation of what the fics are.

And then I realized that it didn't matter. Because I have published 23 fics since April 22nd 2021 and all of them are dedicated to Cíara. I attribute my ability to write to having the most amazing cheerleader, for having Cíara be my person, and encourage and indulge my silliness and tell me my ideas are worth hearing-- even when they're the most daft crack ideas ever.

It doesn't matter that I haven't managed to write much of the fics I wanted, and was unable to create a fic just for Cíara because all the fics that have come before are innately that-- and because all the fics that are to come will be.

Cíara, I'm sorry I wasn't able to do more. And I know you'll tell me to stop apologising and I will because my brain always listens to you. This is your gift, it's nothing original and nothing I haven't said before, but this is a day to celebrate you and so it only makes sense to celebrate who you are and celebrate the phenomenal incredible effect you have had on me and my life.

And so here I will do this. By breaking down my fics and saying how they wouldn't exist if it wasn't for you. This is gonna be long, so for everyone's sake, I'll put it under a cut but I had to make y'all listen to me ramble on because my Cíara is incredible and talented and amazing and kind and so sweet and I love them so much and everyone needs to know that.

Like Clockwork: I will always always adore this fic, it has a very special space in my heart. The reaction it got... For my first fic for this fandom, it was incredible and was what kept me writing. And it never would've seen the light if it wasn't for Cíara. I was shy about writing for this fandom but they encouraged me and was there for me to send a few snippets to when I was so unsure at my rusty writing. And then they were there when it was late at night and anxious about what I had written, telling me to leave it for the night, that it'll feel better in the morning-- and they were right. And they were there making vague excited screaming posts about the snippets I had posted, making me feel excited and confident in showing the world my creation. And then there's what they said after the read it, those words will always stay in my head and never fail to make me cry because they loved it. They truly loved it-- so much they reread it.

Wreck my plans, that's my man: I love all my fics, but I'm not sure I'll ever feel this special feeling about another fic again. It's my go to read fic of mine, and the fic I strive to replicate in all my other fics. It came from a ridiculous idea, after I had to battle a moth out of my bedroom at night.

Cíara reacted to the idea with enthusiasm and screaming, something they'll end up doing again and again.

I'm an indecisive person and I had a few ideas of how to take this and they were so important for this, because they helped me make decisions such as when to set it, and if Adam should be on the sofa or coffee table (... And suggested the table break).

I was so sure I couldn't write humour but they encouraged me and cheered me on and laughed at every funny snippet I sent them and because of that-- one of my favourite most reread fics were born.

Girl Code Duty: This fic was essentially born in our dms. From us talking about how much Roman sucks to how poor Sylvie for having to had slept with him. And I talked about how I had a joking idea of Sylvie saving Kim from making the same mistake made, something that was met with screams of do it.

I didn't think I could write Sylvie but they encouraged me. I didn't think I could write a friendship fic but they cheerleaded me. They gave me the confidence to be confident-- this fic was the first fic in years I wrote that fast.

And they let me steal fifty two minutes from their fic, something that is now so canon for us.

Self preservation only lasts so long: This is a fic I only wrote bc I was inspired after finishing girl code duty. Before I met Cíara the thought of impulsively writing this and so quickly... It would've been impossible. But Cíara gave me my confidence back, and their cheerleading helped feed my motivation and having them there? To send snippets too? To feed on their excitement? I probably never would've finished this if I didn't have them.

And of course, this is a fic I wrote because I wanted to elicit certain emotions in Cíara. I think the very first of my many fics to do so.

Contentedness: this fic.... The creation of the idea was made in our dms, Cíara helping to feed the little seed this idea was, and our talks created some of the most iconic dialogue-- Trudy calling Ally her granddaughter for the very first time.

That's one reason this fic has Cíara weaved throughout it but honestly? It's not the main one. This fic was like pulling nails to write and I hated what I created except for a few lines for so long.

Not Cíara, though. Cíara LOVES this fic. In fact when I did everything I could to forget about it, Cíara was there showing it the love it deserves. Never did they hesitate to not rave about it, to a degree that baffled me because I truly believed it was crap.

And because of this, I reread it and... I saw exactly what they had seen. I now ADORE this fic and that's all because of Cíara.

All the ways a heart can break: This fic took my blood, sweat and tears. It took ages to write, getting dubbed the Angsty Adam fic. Cíara ADORED this idea, and they got one of the most emotional snippets before I had to take a break from it, and I honest respect the fact they didn't kill me for that.

As you all know, Cíara is an angst monster and this fic was my love letter to their monster. I wanted to make Cíara proud of this angst, I wanted to make them cry and feel ever so satisfyied when they got to the ending. And that's what I kept in my head as motivation to finish, all while having them scream whenever I mentioned the fic. And I love them so much for that.

The world is brighter now you're here: This is an idea I had when I was first watching cpd. And it was an idea I wanted to make Cíara soft at-- the amount of times I stopped myself mentioning this headcanon to them, wanting them to hear it through this fic. This is just one example of why I say that, primarily, yeah I write for me, but also for Cíara. Also, fun fact, I wrote most of this at night, while talking to Cíara in our dms.

To build a home, let us share our past There are ideas I get that's like,,,, I can see why Cíara yells DO IT when I tell them about it. And then there's these lil ideas that I would totally understand if they were like eh about. But why Cíara is so incredible is because they tell me that these lil ideas are just important to nurture and put out there as much as those incredible ideas. And I wrote this when I was very ugh about writing and they encouraged me to just write, to try, and supported me as I did so.

Secret kisses: a prompt given to me by the wonderful Cíara, and yet again, another fic I wrote because I wanted Cíara to go all soft and gooey inside

Something's gone terribly wrong: oh this fic. This bloody fic. I think this is probably the best work I've ever done and it so has Cíara weaved throughout it. Because it was just a funny idea I came up with in march, combined with an absolutely ridiculous one I came up with when I was drunk and Cíara.... Cíara encouraged me whole heartedly to write this, telling me that the world needs this. And oh I'm so glad they did.

And they helped me come up with things, such as the voicemail, and the title of the fic.

This was also the fic that confirmed the Braincell, because without any hints or clues, Cíara guessed that Bob would have something to do with it.

And finally,,, this fic is the best example of why they're so important to me. Of why I write with them in mind. Because we're so similar and... Everything I wrote in this I loved. But if it wasn't for Cíara, I might not have included stuff because I thought it was too self indulgent or that no one but me would like it. But I knew Cíara would and they told me over and over again to be self indulgent if that's what I wanted be.

And I'll never be able to thank you as much as you deserve for that, Cíara.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad: I never thought I'd write a publish a svu fic. It's a thought that made me so nervous but... Cíara and I would scream about svu. And I watched as Cíara posted svu fics and watched as they said they got a good reception.

And honestly? Cíara just gives me such confidence in myself. And gives me one more person apart from myself to always be there, cheering me on. They didn't know I wrote this because I wrote it so quickly and it was a surprise. I wasn't sure if I'd post, I just needed to get it out-- but I knew I'd share it with Cíara, if not the world, and I can't express exactly how much that helped me be motivated to get it down.

And ofc, without even knowing anything, Cíara managed to help me come up with the most perfect title.

The ache in you, put in by the ache in me: Surprising Cíara with my fics and watching as they descend into their Feels has fast became one of my most favourite things ever and their reaction to this will always stay in my mind. And then there's the fact that when I first thought of doing this soulmate au for Burzek, they told me to do it, encouraging despite the ridiculousness.

Family we chose: one bts shot, one day and one Cíara screaming DO IT and this fic was created. I don't tend to do spec fics but with Cíara's reaction and the Feels I had... My motivation and creativity was unstoppable and yet again, everything I wrote, I wrote being so excited to see their reaction.

Sometimes you just don't know the answer: Cíara didn't know this fic was coming, and I still get giggling when I remember her REESE message when I posted it, after being silent for most of the day. Those reactions make writing,,, well, they make writing worth it.

Messy, chaotic perfection: Well this was a fic that is full of Cíara vibes because it was wrote *for* Cíara. They weren't too good and I just needed to bring some joy to their day. And thus this was born.

Iris: This only exists because of Cíara. I had a dream about Adam singing, got a hankering for a karaoke fic and Cíara helped me brainstorm this. It was only meant to be a funny light-hearted thing, but well, I'm me.

How to make a marriage work: this exists because of Cíara because of our chats, and their critical thinking about Voight and the fact that I knew it wouldn't have a very big audience but I still wrote it because I knew they'd enjoy it, and honestly, that's enough for me.

The moment I can breathe: yet another fic written for Cíara because they are amazing and the thought of not appreciating them is just an impossible thing for me. The softness in this fic was only able to be there because their friendship makes me happy and my heart content even when things feel wrong.

Girl Crush: Posting smut for this fandom? That was such a nerve wracking experience, but Cíara was there to support and encourage me and their reactions to the few snippets I gave them... It honestly spurred me on.

She drew in her first breathe out of what love meant: Without Cíara supporting my love for Ally and their own love for her, I don't think i would've wrote this, that I would think it's a little pointless bc all it is is a fluff piece but I know to be confident and proud in those ideas because of them, now.

Life's strange sense of humour: This has Cíara written all over. The definition of crack taken seriously.... Do I really need to explain exactly why our love and friendship is woven into the foundation of this fic?

To conclude: Cíara, I absolutely adore the socks off you. You're amazing, funny, supportive, sweet and lovely and I'm so thankful and appreciative of you being in my life and the light and joy you bring to it. I honestly can't put into words exactly how much I utterly love and adore you, because whenever I try, I just end up crying instead.

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for being in my life, thank you for not thinking I'm weird, thank you for supporting me through not just my writing but my health problems, thank you for being strong and brave in your own struggles, thank you for letting me be there for you, just.... Thank you for messaging me, thank you for writing Fearless, the fic that meant I screamed in tags, the fic that meant you messaged me for the very first time.

Finally, thank you for being you.

And I mean it: all my fics-- from those already here, to those to come, and to the ones not yet even a whisper of a thought in my head-- are dedicated to you, because you are my partner, my writing buddy, my best friend.

And I look forward to spending many many birthdays celebrating your existence, because our friendship? It's forever and always. 💖

[straighttohellbuddy]

📓 !!

Okay im so excited please know I think about How The Light Gets In's world every day still, and so anyways here is a side story I want to write but there's a lot of set up regarding the reader and eef becoming friends again. For context, they were incredibly close around 2014-2017, but people were getting creepy and invasive and demanding about their friendship (think 2012 toxic side of the Phandom, if that makes sense), and a lot of the reader's relationships were strained at that time because while they had been successful before, they were absolutely blowing up after their first album released and they became far more mainstream. They felt like they were bothering the people they had become closest to, both because they're worried that they're a bother, and because gossip rags and paps would harrass their friends looking for a scoop, and so they ended up just completely cutting off contact without warning one day right before they went on their first tour. the start of HTLGI is about 3 years since they'd been in proper contact with any of the creators they were close to at that time.

DON'T LOOK AT ME on their 2017 ep Hyperfocus was a more general song in response to everything that had been happening in their life around that time, with a focus on how they stop associating with anyone for a while, without outright addressing it, but on their latest album n o s t a l g i a, read at 5am ft. Troye was specifically written at the start of quarantine, when the reader was getting back into YouTube, about their feelings regarding how their friendship with ethan ended, as they spent a lot of this time looking back of their YouTube career, and he was the person they were closest to for a very long time, before they iced everyone out.

OKAY SO THERES MORE OF THE BACKGROUND OF THE WHOLE FIC AND THE READER BUT

Werewolf Ethan & Mark. I'm sorry I don't make the rules. They have golden retriever energy you cannot change my mind. But also because this is the HTLGI you know that supernatural characteristics are able to be activated rather than just triggered by the full moon. What I'm trying to say is since this is set in the year of Unus Annus, they film a video together that's like, you know that show where a person has to try and outwit a professional tracker? Except its the reader being tracked by two werewolves at night in a national park. Reader is wearing some sort of night vision camera on themselves so whenever it cuts to them the audience can't actually see how they're using their powers, if that makes sense.

Also the reader agreed to this knowing it would probably be when they ended up telling Mark and Ethan about them being a demon.

Video is titled Hunting Down An Old Friend

A few Moments that the boys edit out:

The reader using their stupidly sharp prehensile tail to swing from tree branches, though they leave in shots where the reader's tail can't be seen.

Knowing that with the werewolves having advanced hearing, the reader would give themselves away by talking to the camera, they take a few minutes having flown up to a high tree branch, to pull out a notebook and do a little sketch of how Mark and Ethan appear in their Demon True Sight, and holding it up to their camera.

Werewolves being one of the animals who can kind of sense demons without being able to identify them, essentially like dogs can sense natural disasters and are often good judges of character, this can be heightened on command for werewolves. There's about 15 minutes of footage cut out of the boys discussing or mentioning how this place has awful vibes and that they should have done this during the day. It gets worse as they get closer to the reader, who didn't realise that the boys hadn't thought to ever use that particular power around them before.

("I say this with so much love and appreciation for you, dude," Ethan yells, looking up at you from the base of the tree they'd finally found you in, "but I- this is making me anxious I feel like something terrible's gonna happen, and we should probably get out of here and film the rest of the video back at Mark's." And behind him, Mark's nodding, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes scanning the trees for whatever was most likely the cause of this terrible impending doom.

Oh. It's you. And they don't know its you.

Now or never, you suppose.

"Can you cut the cameras for a second? You're going to be fine I promise," you called back, and though they obligingly did, they both seemed antsy. You cleared your throat awkwardly, "that... that terrible feeling, that's not the park or anything in it- well I mean, it is, but it's just- it's me."

and later

"Dude your wings smell like rotten eggs."

"To YOU Ethan! And no they don't!"

"If it makes you feel better they smell like burning and rotten eggs."

"It does not."

(for reference, when enhancing their sense of smell werewolves can kind of distinguish various supernatural creatures, or parts of supernatural creatures. Some creatures have an inherent scent, but some, like angels and demons, only have distinct scents when they've activated certain attributesor abilities; demon wings smell like fire and brimstone, which unfortunately means burning and rotten eggs. I like to think angels wings are like the love potion in Harry Potter that smells like the things you love the most. Mark and Ethan usually don't enhance it around each other because they smell like wet dog to the other)

This gets about 2k notes on tumblr. The reader likes it:

Ethan finally finding Y/N at the end of Hunting Down An Old Friend (2020) Colourised.

Other things to note regarding all this:

It takes a while to rebuild their friendship to the point where they're comfortable enough to be on camera together (eef and reader specifically).

However, the Unus Annus video is the first thing they properly do together, and the reader, in an effort to connect more and make up for the past, will join in multiplayer gaming streams if asked.

Impromptu duet in proximity Among Us of Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy, which has their respective chats and fandoms losing their minds, except it stops abruptly after the first chorus as they both remember the opening lines of the second verse (make it easy, say I never mattered -- those lyrics hit a little too close to home)

But also the reader convinces him to join him for a proper cover in like, February of 2021, and it's something deeply sappy (I'm thinking Bon Iver by mxmtoon because I think its sweet and fits them well)

Also Ethan being reminded that the reader is kind of a much bigger deal than when they'd been friends before.

designed to hurt (touch me) from their ep Working On It is nominated for a Grammy for Track of the Year, and n o s t a l g i a wins Best Pop Album (because it's my fic and I said so)

FIRST OF ALL designed to hurt (touch me) is a beautifully produced song about Corpse (which people do not know) and the title itself is literally making fun of something he said IMAGINE his reaction to it being Grammy Nominated 😂😂😂 God he'd be proud but lowkey fuming, meanwhile the moment the nominations are announced the reader tweets:

me: here is an album where I processed my entire world view including heartfelt explorations of the trauma of existing and oversharing in the public eye from a young age without the traditional barrier between audience and entertainer

the grammys: that's cute BUT you know the song you wrote to bully your boyfriend and also be horny on main for him before you guys were even dating? THAT deserves its own recognition.

meanwhile Ethan's like..... this is the same person who I filmed a video with playing cards against humanity, and you laughed so hard you almost threw up. I am very proud but deeply confused.

The Hot Meme of Late April 2021 is "2 time Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N" with a gif, still, or quote from the reader where they're just being an absolute chaos gremlin.

Of course we have "If I bleached my asshole for charity I'd do it tastefully."

2 Time Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N speaking to their actual boyfriend in the year of our lord 2020: You are being executed for Clown Crimes.

ethan posts a short video to twitter simply of his screen where he's renaming a folder from "Never Before Seen Images of Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N" simply changing it to 2 time Artist. The reader responds specifically to his tweet with a video of themselves asking Google how to hard reset someone else's computer.

So many screenshots from old videos surface that week.

I miss this world. Sorry this is rambly!!

[thewritewolf]

Adventure to the Heart Chapter 1: AU

Summary: When the miracle box is discovered by Alya, Marinette's lies to cover it up. But one thing leads to another and now her little lie has turned into a major quest. With Adrien joining their party, there's no backing out now.Who knows? It could be that this quest is just what the two of them needed to get closer than ever...

Hello and welcome to the start of my Adrienette April story - Adventure to the Heart, a fun and light-hearted story with a dungeons and dragons campaign boiling in the background. I won't be getting into deep detail with their characters, but I imagine them playing 5th edition Dungeons and Dragons. Most chapters will generally be pretty short (300 to 800 words) since I was still getting used to my new hours when I wrote most of this and didn't have a lot of time for writing.

In any case, I hope you'll enjoy this short, sweet tale for the month!

First | Previous | Next | Last

@adrinetteapril

Read on Ao3

Marinette was now the Guardian of the miracle box.

It was a thought that would come to her in the middle of the night and cause her to bolt upright, unable to sleep. Paranoia started weighing in on her every thought. She’d be only half paying attention to her friends while they talked at school, wanting nothing more than to run home and make sure that the miracle box was still safely tucked away wherever she’d happened to have hidden it last.

Because she hadn’t decided on the best way to keep it safe just yet. Master Fu had the old timey music thing, but while an old Chinese man might be able to deflect suspicion with a piece like that, she definitely could not. It stuck out like a sore thumb in her room. That was the first change she’d made in its protection, and it didn’t bode well that it wasn’t replaced with anything yet.

She’d been working on another of her trap boxes to hold it, disguised as something that would blend in much better with her room, but for now its hiding spot moved constantly. One day it was in her closet, the next under her bed, then in her crafting supplies. On and on it went, for weeks. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t a good idea. Because odds were that a day would come when someone would happen to arrive when it was between hiding spots.

A day like today.

“Uh… girl, what’s that?”

Marinette’s heart sank when she followed Alya’s eyes to the miracle box, pitifully poking out from underneath a pile of yarn. She opened her mouth to make up some sort of justification, but all that came out was a quiet, high-pitched creaking noise.

“Ohhh, wait. I get it.”

Marinette’s heart leapt out of her chest. Had she really figured it out already?! Her mind raced, trying to figure out when Alya could have possibly seen the miracle box before - at least, when she was in her right mind.

Alya’s hands rested on her shoulders and she looked Marinette in the eye. “That’s a dice box, isn’t it?”

Everything skidded to a halt. “Wuh?”

“A dice box, for Dungeons and Dragons. I figured that sort of game was right up your alley, but I didn’t think you’d try to pick it up on the down-low.” Alya nudged her with her elbow. “Come on, girl! If you had told me, I could’ve had Nino give you a couple pointers. You know how crazy he is for the game.”

“Y-yeah, well uh, I didn’t want to… bother him too much, you know?” Marinette laughed nervously. “And besides, it was supposed to be a big secret.”

“Secret?” Her eyebrows scrunched up. “That’s isn’t like you at all, girl. Well, unless it has something to do with Adrien or…” Brown eyes widened in realization. “...if you’re planning a surprise.”

“R-right, so… don’t say anything to anyone! You don’t want to, um… spoil it.”

Alya winked. “I gotchu, girl. But between the best of gal pals…” Alya leaned in conspiratorially. “...When are you planning on going public? ‘Cuz I could start sending out feelers right now to see who would be down for a Dupain-Cheng original campaign.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it's still in the early stages,” Marinette said, entirely truthfully. After all, she hadn’t so much as given it a single thought or even looked at the core rulebook. It was about as early as a stage could be.

“Still! You’ll want to know the players you’re dealing with - personalities, how many of them.” Alya pulled out her phone and began typing at a frantic pace. “Trust me, I hear about from Nino all the time.”

Marinette craned her neck to peer at Alya’s phone. “Who are you texting?”

“Nino first off. Then he can ask a couple people, and I’ll send out an invite to our girl squad. And then we’ll see who else we can come up with.” Alya grinned at her. “This is going to be a great campaign, I can already feel it!”

“Yeah… great.” Marinette put as much enthusiasm into her voice as she could, while the gears in her head began to turn.

-----------------

Later that night, Marinette was sitting in the living room with her mom and a notebook. If she backed out of this now, then it would look suspicious and Alya might rethink her initial impression of the miracle box. No, if she wanted to keep her secret safe, she’d have to go along with this.

Which meant that she would need a campaign - a story, a setting, a plot. She hadn’t tried her hand at writing before and that inexperience was becoming frustratingly obvious as time passed. Half a dozen ideas had been scrapped within the first half of her mother’s Chinese period dramas.

Instead of spending the next thirty minutes racking her head for ideas, she tossed the notebook to the ground and glared at the television… only to fall into a world of plotting nobles in the imperial palace.

With a smirk spreading across her face, Marinette quickly scooped up her notebook and got to writing.

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @i-am-still-bb based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Gen.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Cafe d’Or

---

Kili is not sure how he has never seen it the first time he walks past it. He is late for class, so late that he should probably just give up and go back home, but he still pauses to peek through the steaming windows.

The bright colors catch his attention. It is so different from the muted greys, whites, and pale woods of the chain coffee shops that he normally frequents. And before he knows it he has been drawn inside and he is ordering a blonde with an unconscionable amount of cream.

And then he is back on his way to class with the warm cup of coffee in hands, its luxurious smell making him forget how late he is.

The coffee collar is pink and gold. Kili grins and doodles on it before tossing it in his backpack to join the other detritus that accumulates during the semester.

And then he goes back.

And this time he brings his homework and he ends up sketching the patrons and the soft furnishings. He gets to know the baristas by name. They start to prepare his order when he walks through the door.

More sketches than Kili would like to admit are of the owner—Fili—with golden hair who moves through the space fluffing pillows, refilling coffees, and chatting with customers.

Kili rarely speaks to him. Kili usually keeps his headphones on to help him focus and to discourage idle chit chat. But he does turn his music and the noise cancelling function off whenever the owner is near. Just in case.

-

He just has an interesting face, he says when Tauriel catches a glimpse of Kili’s sketchbook on an April afternoon.

Uh huh. Bet he’s more interesting naked.

Kili flicks droplets of paint water in her direction.

Hey! She jumps to project the acrylic project she has been working on for days. She sits back and squints. Actually… She dips her fingers in the water and flicks the droplets across the canvas. Interesting. But not as interesting as your Manther.

Kili chokes on his coffee. What?

Manther. It’s like a Cougar, but—

Kili waves his hands. No. No. No.

Tauriel laughs.

He can’t be much past thirty if he is even that old, so I don’t think that assessment is fair.

Still a cradle robber, Tauriel says, distracted by her work.

Kili changes the subject. I thought I was here for you to help me with my thesis ideas?

I suppose. But your Manther is so much more interesting…

Kili groans and slouches deeper into the couch that has seen better years, probably a at least a decade ago.

-

Winter appeared quite suddenly one late November day.

“If I have to spend another minute in this building I’m going to go insane,” Tauriel complains.

“Do you want to work in the Hollow?” Kili asks looking up from his notebook where he is playing with some ideas in charcoal and ink.

Tauriel shakes her head. “Too cold and windy.”

“I could do with a coffee,” Kili stretches. “D’Or?”

Tauriel’s eyebrows jump. “I’ll finally get to see him.”

Kili quickly backpedals “Or we can just go to Post. It’s closer.

“Nope. The horse already left the gate,” Tauriel laughs, grabbing her coat. “Scoot your boot.

-

“How have I never been here?” Tauriel asks as she sinks into an unapologetically pink chair. “It’s so cute.”

Kili shrugs. “I only came in last spring, but I must have walked past it nearly every day.”

Tauriel sips her tea and hums in response. She sets her drink down and pulls out her sketchbook. Her thesis project is pop art mixed with traditional mediums and settings. A coffee cup in oil paint on the same scale as a renaissance altarpiece, for example. Kili’s work is less serious. He loves light and how it can make everything seem magical even if just for a moment.

Today it is the golden mistletoe with white berries above the bar that catches his eye. It sparkles in the bright light, daylight reflecting off of freshly fallen snow, the fills the space. The Christmas decorations all skew to the gold and white so as to not clash with the pinks and blues.

In the margins he starts sketching golden hair in the light.

“So are your parents coming to the end of semester show?”

Kili starts. “What?”

Tauriel repeats herself.

Kili shakes his head. “No. They’re too busy.”

“But it’s your penultimate show.”

Kili shrugs. “I’ll send them pictures like always.”

If Kili had been giving Tauriel his full attention he would have seen the mischievous expression on her face. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t.

“Anyone special that you’re inviting to the opening then?”

“What? No. You know that.”

“I just thought since it’s an art show you might have found someone to ask.”

Kili looks up, furrowing his eyebrows. He is about to ask Tauriel why she is being weird when he sees Fili just at her shoulder refilling her tea.

“An art show?” Fili asks politely.

“Oh! Yes!” Tauriel says. “We’re seniors and it’s our last show before our thesis show in the spring. And we’ve both been working so hard, but Kili has been especially diligent and he’s got no one coming to the opening for him.”

Kili nudges her foot and widens his eyes at her, trying to tell her to Cut It Out without words.

“That’s not cool,” Fili says.

“It’s fine,” Kili grumbles. And sinks down with his sketchbook. He knows what Tauriel is trying to do, but he has no idea what he is supposed to say, what she expects him to say.

“I bet you’re pretty good after almost 4 years.”

“He’s great!” Tauriel pipes in. “Would you like to come?”

Kili can feel Fili’s eyes on him.

“I would like to. If it is okay with Kili.”

Kili flushes. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

“It’s a date then.”

“So that’s settled,” Tauriel announces with a grin.

“Your coffee and tea are just wonderful.”

“Thank you, but I’m not the one who picks our blends. That would be our coffee sommelier Legolas.”

This time Kili sees the sly look on Tauriel’s face, but he does not move fast enough to interrupt her. “I bet you make the best coffee at your house.”

Fili laughs.

Kili tries to slouch further into his seat to disappear, but he cannot look away from Fili. Their eyes meet and Fili responds.

“I do. It comes with a homemade bagel. And it is served in bed.” He winks.

Kili’s cheeks get even pinkies if that is even possible.

[lilbabycee]

sundown // steve rogers 🌇

↳ summary: steve’s little ray of sunshine isn’t shining so bright.

↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 2.5k

↳ warnings: angst angst angst (i was in my feelings with this one), hurt/comfort and some fluff 

↳ author’s note: hi! i wrote a kind of sequel to daybreak today! i’ve been stuck in a writing rut for like two weeks but then @pinksdaydream​ inspired me to write some more for this! 🥰

READ DAYBREAK

A year later and Steve still hasn’t learned his lesson. Every day, he stares for hours at the brightest light that he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing in his many years of life. He can’t believe how close he is, how easily he’s able to touch and feel something- someone so precious. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t been burned yet, but he knows that it’s because this light doesn’t pose a physical threat to him - emotionally, perhaps, but rather, it’s much more the contrary. He basks it in, soaks in its warmth and revels in its brilliance all because he’s allowed to. He’s allowed to because this light is his. 

It’s you.

You’re not perfect - you tripped on the fluffy white rug in the living room and subsequently ran into the sharp marble corner of the kitchen island this morning alone - but you’re still his. However, this time you’re awake and standing in the kitchen - too far away from him. One of his grey Henley’s shields your entire upper half from his eager gaze and he silently curses himself for throwing you that shirt when you’d asked for one - if he was smarter, he would’ve just insisted that you walk around naked. He knows that your legs are completely bare, but his vivid imagination has to be the one to conjure up the image of those miles of exposed skin because his view is obstructed by the kitchen counter. For now, he’s stuck admiring you from the waist up. He bets that he could rip the counter right out of the tiled floor if he tried hard enough, but he knows that as of right now, he has more restraint than that. 

No matter what time of the day, not once in any of those twenty-four hours for the past one-thousand-one-hundred-and-eighteen days has he failed to be amazed by how you can make him feel like the asthmatic man he was all of those years ago by simply walking into a room, no matter whether or not you even know that he’s there. You’ve been quieter than usual lately, running endless back-to-back sprints as opposed to marathons inside your brain that wear you out because you refuse to take a water break. He knows what this is - he’s seen it before, watched you run so far only to drop the baton in the relay race at the most critical moment. And as much as he can coach you to not push so hard and pace your running, in the end, you’re the only one who can really make those decisions for yourself. 

Of course, you always take his advice in stride, using it to propel yourself those last few meters to the finish line. But time and time again, he’s watched you fall short, letting all the different facets of your overactive and often noisy brain speed past you to snap that finish line tape in half much like the way that they break your soul. Your aura dims considerably in moments like these, despite the glow of the late afternoon sun swallowing the white walls of your apartment and spitting out rays of golden light. One shines right on your face and Steve almost laughs - it’s as if the sun itself knows how deserving you are of the limelight - a star in his eyes having taken center stage in the production of his life. 

He’d let you take all of the attention any day. But you’re not like that - as much as you can be his little social butterfly, the taste of pink lemonade and cherry lollipops in your speech, there are still those days when he can both physically and emotionally see you sink in on yourself, the words you speak stinging him in a way that makes his entire body shudder just thinking about it. They always taste like copper to him.

He knows that you don’t mean it. It’s the way you’ve always been and who is he to think that he’s entitled to make you change it? But the way that you deal with what goes on inside your head isn’t healthy. He knows that. You know it, too. And you’re trying. That’s all he can ask for. 

And so here he sits on the floor of your living room, large body wedged in the sizable space between the coffee table and the couch that his back rests against. You’re directly in his line of sight - still too far away - but that’s okay because even though you haven’t spared him a glance or uttered a word to him in the past hour, at least you’re together. 

Sometimes he regrets the mantle that he carries around - Captain America. True, it is such an integral part of him but he can’t help but resent it some days. It keeps him away from you all too often. Time and time again, people have chased him just to meet the man in red, white, and blue. They’re not interested in the man behind the shield and honestly, he doesn’t know if he is either. There have been plenty of times where he’s spiraled into an identity crisis, unable to separate Steve Rogers from his superhero persona. 

But every single time, you’ve been there to work through it right alongside him. You’ve dealt with him at his very lowest - when he was in a hole deeper than rock bottom and couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed in the morning. So there has not been even one moment when Steve has thought about leaving you alone when you get like this. He now knows not to pry just as well as he knows that you don’t want to be by yourself in times like these. You may not explicitly vocalize it, but in the seconds when you do meet his stare across the dinner table or right before you fall asleep, he can see the love housed in the depths of your eyes and that’s more than enough for him.

His own eyes haven’t left you for the better part of the hour. His favorite black leather-bound sketchbook is open to what was once a blank page at the beginning of the day but is now an almost complete sketch of the angel in front of him. The luminosity of the sun on your body reveals your halo, usually hidden during the day but in rare moments like these, he’s able to appreciate your otherworldly presence casually standing in the middle of his kitchen with a hand propped against the edge of the counter. A notebook is set in front of you and Steve never thought that he could be so jealous of an inanimate object before - it’s held your undivided attention for hours. 

His eyes widen as you shift, leaning forwards to rest both of your elbows on the counter top to type something on your open laptop and giving him a clear view of your breasts through the gap in the front of your shirt. Your lips have been wrapped around a ballpoint pen for virtually the whole day which is how he knows you’ve been working hard because sucking on the ends of pens always helps you focus. He, on the other hand, can’t seem to focus at all as soon as you whip out one of those godforsaken pens. Steve swallows hard - almost immediately regretting wearing grey sweatpants as he adjusts the crotch as subtly as he can - and tears his eyes away from you to flip to a new page, sketching profusely so as to immortalize this moment in his sketchbook before his mind can even dare to forget it. 

In his haste, he doesn’t even realize when the silence is broken by the chime of your voice. 

“Steve. Steve.”

His hand moves fast and he’s squinting at the page in concentration, willing his brain to hold onto the picture of you bent over the kitchen counter as if he doesn’t have the real thing standing right in front of him-

“Stevie,” you call out, your brow furrowing slightly in concern. This makes his head snap up - finally - and you can’t help but notice how blown his pupils are and how strategic the placement of his sketchbook seems to be. You can pinpoint the exact moment that he starts to panic. For someone who is usually so stoic, he wears his heart proudly on his sleeve. Realization quite literally dawns on his face but it does nothing to alleviate the dusting of light pink across his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” his unused voice is raspy but he doesn’t bother clearing his throat, as if he knows exactly how it makes you clench your thighs together where he can’t see them. “I was just really invested in- uh,” he hesitates, gesturing vaguely at the page that you can’t see, “the sketch. What’s goin’ on, doll?”

And the flower of your heart blooms at the look in those eyes that remind you so much of April showers, those eyes that are filled to the brim with the rain that has watered all of the dead and decaying blossoms that line your stomach, crawl up to your ribs and up your throat, their vines climbing up through your skull to wrap around your brain. That look alone, framed by those insanely long eyelashes, has extended a helping hand to your beaten-down spirit, telling it to dust itself off and keep going. 

“You’re staring, sweetheart,” Steve’s sinfully pink lips quirk up into a demure smile as he teases you, his thick beard shielding the brief flash of white teeth. You decided a long time ago that the beard has been the best thing to happen to you, as is the long hair that he’s currently running his hands through. 

“Sorry,” you say but continue to stare unabashedly at his beautiful face because you don’t mean it. You can’t help the way that your eyes trail down his chest that has woefully been covered by one of his too-tight black t-shirts, though you don’t miss the way that it strains against his bulging biceps, nor the way that it’s slightly rucked up at the bottom which gives you an eyeful of the dark blonde wisps of hair that travel downwards towards one of your favorite parts of his body. 

Steve, always so perceptive, doesn’t miss where your gaze has traveled, and he can’t help the self-satisfied smirk that grows on his face. It’s easy to forget that you’ve been down for these past few days when you have seconds like these in between those tired hours when you oversleep and he hasn’t slept at all because he’s too busy watching you.

“See somethin’ you like, baby?” he hums, continuing his sketch absent-mindedly because he knows that the image of you standing in front of him like a dream will forever be ingrained into his memory. 

Heat ignites your veins and blooms in your cheeks; you can’t help it when you look away, smiling shyly to the side. Steve has resigned himself to the fact that you won’t answer, going back to tracing careful lines with the point of his pencil. 

“In fact, I do,” you murmur, knowing that if it was anybody else, they wouldn’t have heard you. Steve’s eyes meet yours and you can almost taste the saltiness of the ocean on your tongue as he drowns you in their depths. He stands abruptly, casting his book to the side carelessly and taking long strides to get to where you are. 

Once his hand lands on your hip, the warmth seeps in through the cotton of your shirt and melts your entire body; it catalyzes the small eruption of the volcano in your chest, causing the burning lava of the breath that you didn’t know you were holding to spill over and out of your mouth in an audible sigh. His other hand soon joins the first, framing your body and pulling you back into him. You stare down at the dusting of hair on his forearms when he slips them around your waist and you squeal when he turns you around in his hold, meeting your eyes with a softness that you weren’t expecting.

“Do you wanna talk about what’s goin’ on with you, sweetheart?” he probes lightly in that same low voice, recognizing your deflection and not wanting to cause that volcano to explode. You bite the inside of your cheek, avoiding eye contact because you don’t want him to worry (you don’t know that he worries about you every second of every day because you’re almost his entire heart) but he grasps your jaw in his right hand. He ducks his head down a little, trying to catch your darting eyes. When they finally rest on him, he thinks that he’s dying because your stare is glassy and your lip is trembling. 

“Baby,” he coos, tugging you into his chest. You relent, releasing your hold on his forearms to throw your arms around his middle. It’s hard to hold back the tears anymore: Steve’s concern has kicked down the fragile floodgates of your emotional control. Pressing your head into his chest, he says nothing while your body shakes but it’s better this way. You know that you’d only cry even more if he started speaking. Instead, you inhale gasping breaths between babbling as you try to explain why you haven’t been yourself recently. He listens attentively, rubbing circles into your back and dropping frequent kisses on your forehead. 

The room is more orange than yellow by the time you can finally speak coherently. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffle into his shirt, fists clenching the material tightly. He pushes you away from him so there’s just enough space for him to lift his hands to your face. Slowly, he wipes any residual tears from your cheeks and underneath your eyes with this thumbs. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, baby,” he speaks softly, your face still in his hands when he presses a kiss to your nose, both of your now mostly dry cheeks, and then right on top of your lips. It’s chaste, only lasting about a second but it makes your soul sing nonetheless. 

You stand in silence for a beat longer, merely staring into each other’s eyes before something flashes in Steve’s eyes. You squish your face to his body again, feeling his chest rise slightly, signifying that he’s about to speak. 

“What did you need before, sweetheart?”

You’re confused. 

“What do you mean?

“When you were calling me before - what did you need?”

Now you get it. 

“Oh- I was just going to ask what you wanted for dinner...”

Your voice falters at the end because - and you have no clue why - this makes Steve throw his head back as he barks out a surprised laugh. You frown, narrowing your eyes at him slightly. 

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing - I just love you, that’s all,” he clarifies, casually throwing the sentiment out there because it’s so easy with you. It’s always easy, even when it’s not.

“I love you, too,” you place a lingering kiss on his jaw before pulling back to stare in his eyes with a grave expression on your face. Now it’s his turn to frown in confusion. “But seriously, what do you want for dinner?”

[rotzaprachim]

Nile & Joe + portrait

There are many ways to make a portrait of the ones you love. Joe knows well. He’s tried to capture the likenesses of the ones he loves a thousand different ways- paint, charcoal, words and flowers and the notes of a song. A tiny shard of the beauty of a living human, at best, a shadow that may say: this is how good you are in the world. 

Joe paints a hyperrealistic portrait of Nile with the morning light streaming in through the window as she’s bent in focus with her pen tapping at an open notebook, trying to authenticate a stack of manuscripts dug out from one of Andy’s caves. He sketches her training, running, coming back from the souq with a bundle of flowers as large as she is, standing with the only sort-of functional crackling audio guide in the d’Orsay and the Bardo and the Musée Rodin, the last one her own kind of pilgrimage. Nile Freeman, abstract brushstrokes of vibrant, electric red and blue one a canvas, Nile Freeman, the words of a poem of energy and ethics and focus and a fresh edge to the team. The one who goes first, Andy says, and he cal already see it. He gave her the ripped page from the notebook, the first time he ever tried to draw her, when he already knew her face like he’d seen it an uncountable number of time sin a mirror but didn’t yet have the name. Take it, it was always yours. 

But the portrait of Nile that is singed into both their memories, a decisive turning point in lives smudged with time, is this. 

“Does this look too green? Like, the wrong shade of green?” 

Joe squints while he cleans the camera lens. 

“It should be fine.” 

“My mom wore a sweater with a green collar to one of these and it looked like she’d been guillotined on her driver’s lisence.”

She changes her sweater. 

Objectively speaking, until about six years ago all this was someone else’s job.

Joe was always far, far better at taking photographs. 

“Don’t have to tell you to focus on the bunny, do I?” 

She rolls her eyes and of course, tht ends up on the roll. But most of the photos are a lot better, and besides. It doesn’t have to be prize winning. It has to be a passport photo. 

Joe shows her the choices on a computer afterwards- he’d done a fine job making a little portrait studio, hanging a sheet up behind Nile and everything, he was gonna mess around with lighting and shit until Andy thought that these would be suspiciously good passport photos- and Nile picks a few. He shows her the mock up he’ll have printed. 

“Canada?” 

“Not ideal, but... better to have you on a different system in the event someone starts searching.” 

She nodds, flicking through the details. 

“My birthdate...” 

Just because things are inevitable doesn’t mean they aren’t surprising when they come. He’d been waiting to do this for a while, till she got a bit more settled in to this life, as it were, but it’s been a few years. It’s time. 

“How’s it feel to be a millenial?” 

“April twenty seven. Two thousand.” 

“Y2K didn’t bring and end to all hospital recording systems in the world, as it transpired. A bouncing baby girl born on that day. In Canada.” 

“Twenty seven years old again. And they say you’re only twenty seven once.” 

Nile’s voice cracks. He knows that stabbing pain, in the back of his throat, in the heart, in the mind. Wishes he could take it from her, all the pain of life, leave her with the joys of this life of lives and not the sorrows. But life must be swallowed entire, and the best we can do is make sure we not face it all alone. He reaches for her and she wraps herself between his arms, and they stay like that for a while. 

Her new passport arrives all shiny and dark-leathered, passport and passeport both in case one wasn’t obvious enough. She flips through it. 

“Wait. Alexandria Laliberte? Alexandria?” 

She looks deeply for a moment. 

“Names are important. The names our families give us- if we choose to keep them, they are important. All our lives. I will make you a Freeman again when you have been dead a few lifetimes but for now-” 

“It’s perfect,” she says. “Thank you.” 

[btschooseafic]

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Aviva meets a rapper named Ranch Randa Rap Monster.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. (TW: minor blood mention) [Masterlist]

Track 1: Enter, Kim Namjoon           

Rap Genius- San E

“Call me Rap Monster, cause I rap nonstop

Underground quality, mentality of rockstar”

April 2010

The first trainee was an underground rapper around her age that Bang Sihyuk had personally recruited. He was… tall.

“Hi.” The boy tilted his head down, studying her. “I think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you a trainee?”

“Ah, no, I’m Chen Aviva, Assistant, 16—wait no, 17 years old,” Aviva said, bowing slightly. “You’re actually the first trainee the agency has had in a while. I’ve been told to go over your contract with you.”

“I’m Kim Namjoon. We’re the same age.” He grinned. “Your Korean is pretty good.”

She smiled weakly. “Thank you. I still need more practice...”

“You’re American?” Namjoon guessed. “I wouldn’t mind practicing my English if you wanted to learn together.” Her smile brightened considerably.

“Thank you, I would like that. Should we sit down and do the contract?” She motioned at the table. He nodded and moved to sit, knocking into a vase as he did. “Watch out!” She quickly pushed him out of the way.

“Whoa! Shit, are you okay?” He stepped around the broken shards of the vase to get closer to her, looking her over in concern. “You’re bleeding!”

She looked at her arm.

“Just a little. I’ve got bandaids back in the other room… are you hurt at all?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Thanks to you. Sorry for being so clumsy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. After things had settled down and he signed the contract, she noticed him making a face. “Something wrong?”

“Thinking about my signature,” he said. “It doesn’t seem the most professional.”

“It seems fine to me,” she thought, looking at it. “Tell you what...” She pulled out her notebook and held it out to him. “Why don’t you practice some more and give me your autograph?”

“What?” He stared at her.

“I mean, I’ve heard a few of your mixtapes. I’m still learning about Hip Hop, but even I can see you’ve got talent. I think one day you’ll be doing a lot of autographs, so you might as well start now.”

“Aish...” He rubbed his neck, his face flushing pink. “Asking for my autograph, you’re embarrassing me.”

“... So I can’t have it?”

He smiled. “I didn’t say that.”

Later that night, Aviva told Soonyoung about the new trainee as they snuggled up on the couch, the news playing on low volume on their cheap TV in the background.

“Ah, I’ve heard of him,” Soonyoung said, yawning as she held Aviva closer. “Rancha Randa —the underground rapper, yeah?”

“He’s going by Rap Monster now, I think,” Aviva told her. Soonyoung hummed.

“Rumor has it Bang-PD-nim really likes him,” she said. “I haven’t met him, but he sounds cute.”

Aviva frowned. “How? I didn’t even describe his appearance to you.”

“I meant his personality,” Soonyoung said. She smirked. “Why, was his appearance cute?”

“…A bit,” Aviva admitted.

“You know…” Soonyoung said slowly. “It might be discouraged, but I think, technically, you’d be allowed to date, since you’re in management.”

“Yeah, but he’s a trainee, so—”

Soonyoung laughed. “Not him, necessarily. I just mean in general.”

“Oh.” Aviva tilted her head. “I don’t know, Soon. Why are you bringing this up right now?” Soonyoung chewed her lip.

“I don’t know. It’s just, we haven’t got to spend so much time together recently, and I’m worried you’re lonely.”

“What, I can’t see my best friend as often so I should get a boyfriend?” Aviva’s nose wrinkled. “Doesn’t seem like a fair trade.”

“Doesn’t have to be a boy,” Soonyoung put in. Aviva shook her head, frowning. “Okay, okay, we don’t have to open that can of worms right now, Viva. I’m just saying.”

Aviva easily pushed the conversation out of mind, having a lot of work to focus on. She spent much of her time in the Big Hit conference room, where she got her work done whenever it wasn’t being used for meetings. Even though he was busy between working on music at the studio, and commenting back and forth from home at Illsan, to school, to Big Hit, Namjoon had kept his word, stopping by sometimes to chat to practice English and Korean, or just chat about music and their days.

That summer, more and more new trainees were recruited as auditions opened up for boys to form a Hip Hop group. Ahn Youngjin, Head of the New Artist Development Team was able to find a dorm space at the last moment.

While Namjoon was the first to move in, he certainly wasn’t the last. There was soon an influx of trainees. While not all of them were being considered for Bang Sihyuk’s hip hop group, dancer Park Yeongman, and rappers Jung Hunchul (Iron), and Shin Donghyuk (Supreme Boi) were on the shortlist. Youngjin struggled to keep up with living space, and at one point there were ten boys sleeping in one room. While this seemed like an easy recipe for chaos, in Aviva’s opinion, she heard many reports that Namjoon was doing a great job of keeping the peace. The first to be recruited had emerged as a natural leader.

Centered around Namjoon, Bang Sihyuk began to form a better image of his hip hop group, coming up with the name Bulletproof Boyz, or BPB.