#conans was good and so was mother mothers but they just had a few too many filler songs for me

[randapear]

I hate to say it, don't come at me, but Olivia Rodrigo's 'Sour' topped Taylor and Conans and Mother Mothers album this year....

[softly-potter]

Wish You Were Sober

Summary: Qrow calls a friend while babysitting his nieces.

Pairing: Qrow x Clover, Qrow x Summer

Word Count: 878

Warning: none

Inspired by 'wish you were sober' by Conan Gray

-

“Anything?”

“You know the answer,” Tai sighs. “If I had found anything you would’ve known by now.”

Qrow scowls into the lip of his flask, brows furrowed before he takes a deep drink. Summer had been missing for nearly four months, and as time went on, it was getting harder to breathe. Harder to eat, harder to sleep. Knowing that she was no longer safely tucked away in that house with Tai and the girls made Qrow sick. Actually, the drink made him sick. The not knowing what happened to her made him want to die. 

“Just update me aight,” Qrow slurs, his tongue heavy in his mouth. On the other end of the scroll, Tai sighs. 

“You drunk again?” Tai huffs into the phone. Qrow rolls his eyes, peers into the bonfire. 

“Don’t worry,” Qrow replies. “The girls are fine.”

“I’m not worried about the girls at the moment.” Tai says, his response clipped. When had he grown up so much?

Qrow blinks slowly, leans his cheek into his palm. “I’m fine. Just find her. Or come home. Or both. The kids miss ya.”

“They miss their Uncle too,” Tai says lowley and Qrow shuts his eyes. “I’ll be back in the morning. Don’t forget to put out the fire before you go back inside.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Qrow mumbles into the scroll, ending the call before Tai can reply. 

Summer was the thing that held the group together, the glue. With her wishful eyes and sweet smile, she made team STRQ a team. A family. When Raven had ran, Summer had slipped into the role of mother easily. A few months later she found out she was going to be a mom herself, and while it had stung that it wasn’t his baby, Qrow couldn’t say he hated the way pregnancy had made Summer glow. 

He knew she hadn’t left on her own accord. Not if she had never intended on coming back. Summer was a mother to Ruby and Yang through and through. She would’ve rather died than be separated from them. Knowing that made Qrow’s breath catch. 

Staring into the fire, he tips the flask back and forth between his palms before raising it to his mouth and taking another sip. 

Beside him, his scroll buzzes and he glares at it before picking it up. Reading the name across the screen, Qrow groans and presses answer. 

“Hey you.”

“Hey yourself.” Qrow grumbles, looking away from the screen. “Tai call you?”

Clover shrugs, his emerald eyes bright even on the phone. “Maybe. But can’t a guy give one of his best friends a call?”

“One of your best friends?” Qrow smirks, quirking an eyebrow. “Let’s be honest, I’m one of your only friends. We both know you don’t consider the Ops to be your friends.”

Clover wrinkles his nose the smallest amount. “They’re my teammates. They’re important in other ways.”

“Sure, sure,” Qrow sighs, and takes a swig from the flask. “So what did Tai want you to do, check in? Give me words of advice? Scold me?”

“He’s just worried about you,” Clover sighs, scratching the back of his head. “We all are. We know how… difficult these last few months have been.”

The screen flashes for a moment as the connection drops and Qrow feels his heart panic for a moment. The connection resumes and Clover's face reappears, making Qrow let out a sigh. 

“Difficult is an understatement.”

“That’s understandable,” Clover replies. He gives a light smile and it’s infectious. “How’re your nieces?”

Qrow grins. “Growing like beanstalks. I swear Yangs going to get into Beacon early.”

“Just like her Uncle, no?” Clover quips and Qrow snickers, rubs at his jaw. 

“I’m lucky I got into Beacon at all.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Qrow feels his chest tighten and he looks away. They’re both quiet for a moment before he takes another sip. 

“Qrow-“

“How’ve you been, Clove?” Qrow says his friend's childhood nickname like a happy memory, his eyes bleary. 

Clover lets out a quiet sigh. “I’ve been good, kid.”

“Miss you being around.” Qrow tries, his voice cracking a bit and he coughs. Clover is quiet, frown lines creasing his forehead. “Miss that smartass sarcasm.”

At this, Clover lets out a chuckle but his face looks drawn. “That’s sweet, Qrow,” he says softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s… real sweet. But I wish you were sober.”

Qrow feels an embarrassed flush crawl up his neck and he looks away, digs his heels into the dirt. 

“I should go,” Qrow says quickly, unable to look at the man that could’ve been something, pity him any longer. “Should check on the girls.”

“Qrow, don’t-“

“Bye Clover.”

Qrow ends the call with a hard push of his thumb. He drops the Scroll to the soft grass and lets out a long sigh, stretching his neck to the sky. Taking in the dimly lit moon and stars, he wonders if Summer and Clover are looking at the night sky too. 

Was Summer able to look at the sky, wherever she was? Did Clover remember how they used to stargaze? Qrow squeezes his eyes shut, gripping the flask tightly and wonders if they miss him, as much as he misses them. 

[scotianostra]

Victoria Helen McCrae Duncan was born on November 25th 1897 in Callander.

Known as Helen Duncan, in 1944, she became last person in the UK to be tried, convicted and imprisoned under the 1735 Witchcraft Act.

Hellish Nell, as she became known, was actually a medium, and by all accounts not a very good one, the way she earned her living was to hold seances and charge plenty for her services, but she was rumbled several times as a fraud.

Nor was she the last person convicted under the 1753 Act – now repealed and replaced with the Fraudulent Mediums Act of 1951 – because in fact three other people were on trial alongside her and one of them was sent to prison, too. Yet somehow the “last witch” nickname has stuck, though records clearly show that some months after her trial and imprisonment in September 1944, one Jane York, 72, from Forest Gate, East London, was charged under the same act with seven counts of pretending to conjure up spirits of the dead. Incredibly, York was simply bound over for the sum of £5 to be of good behaviour for three years.

Ah, but that happened after D-Day, and there is no question when you examine the evidence that the authorities wanted to make an example of Helen Duncan and put her away for the summer of 1944.

From an early age her own family saw her as fey, and her mother was mortified when the child’s behaviour became impossible – she would predict doom and destruction for all sorts of people and was given to outbursts of hysteria.

Her early life was otherwise normal. She moved to Dundee and worked at the Royal Infirmary where she met Henry Edward Duncan, a wounded war veteran and a cabinet maker. They were married in 1916, and Duncan would eventually have six children by Henry who saw a great way of making money from his wife’s talents in clairvoyance – she read tea leaves and made predictions and earned a few shillings for doing so.

By 1926 she had become a fully-fledged medium giving seances during a time when spiritualism was all the rage. Moving to Edinburgh, her seances were soon the talk of the town – even the ghost of that local man turned Sherlock Holmes creator, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, a great believer in spiritualism, was said to have materialised at sittings.

A prominent feature of her seances was her apparent ability to produce “ectoplasm” from her mouth during her trances when she was transformed into her spirit partners Albert or Peggy, a young girl whose voices “spoke” through Duncan. She had grown quite obese and the contrast between this 20-stone woman and the childish voices was part of the reason why people believed in her.

It was at a seance in January 1933 that Peggy emerged in the seance room and a sitter named Esson Maule grabbed her. The lights were turned on and the spirit was revealed to be made of a cloth undervest which used as evidence that led to Duncan’s conviction on the Scottish offence of fraud at Edinburgh Sheriff Court in May 1933.

The conviction does not seem to have harmed her career. Duncan was by then making a good living by conducting seances throughout Britain at which “the spirits of the dead were alleged to have appeared, sometimes talking to and even touching their relatives”.

Duncan began to get more famous but also began to be more scrutinized. Director Harry Price of the National Laboratory of Psychical Research examined her. He deemed her ‘ectoplasms’ to be made of cheese and eggs which she would regurgitate up. Price was less than impressed by what he felt was a show woman, exploiting people for money.

“Could anything be more infantile than a group of grown-up men wasting time, money, and energy on the antics of a fat female crook.”

During World War Two, Duncan lived in Portsmouth, the home of the Royal Navy. In 1941, the spirit of a sailor reportedly appeared at one of her seancés announcing that he had just gone down on a vessel called the Barham. HMS 'Barham' was not officially declared lost until several months later, its sinking having been kept secret to mislead the enemy and protect morale.

Unsurprisingly, Duncan's activities attracted the attention of the authorities and on 19 January 1944, one of her séances was interrupted by a police raid during which she and three members of her audience were arrested.

Duncan was remanded in custody by Portsmouth magistrates. She was originally charged under section 4 of the Vagrancy Act (1824), under which most charges relating to fortune-telling, astrology and spiritualism were prosecuted by magistrates in the 20th century. This was considered a relatively petty charge and usually resulted in a fine if proved. She was eventually tried by jury at the Old Bailey for contravening section 4 of the Witchcraft Act of 1735, which carried the heavier potential penalty of a prison sentence.

In particular, the medium and her three sitters were accused of pretending 'to exercise or use human conjuration that through the agency of Helen Duncan spirits of deceased persons should appear to be present'. Duncan was also charged with offences under the Larceny Act for taking money 'by falsely pretending that she was in a position to bring about the appearances of the spirits of deceased persons'.

The trial caused a media sensation and was extensively covered in the newspapers, many of which revelled in printing cartoons of witches on broomsticks. At one stage, the defence announced that Duncan was prepared to demonstrate her abilities in the witness box. This amounted to conducting a séance in the court while in a state of trance and the offer was refused.

Duncan was found guilty as charged under the Witchcraft Act and sentenced to nine months in Holloway Prison, London, but she was cleared of the other offences. She was the last person in Britain to be jailed under the act, which was repealed in 1951 and replaced with the Fraudulent Mediums Act following a campaign by spiritualist and member of parliament Thomas Brooks.

There are two common misconceptions about Duncan's conviction. The first is that she was the last person in Britain to be convicted of being a witch. In fact, the Witchcraft Act was originally formulated to eradicate the belief in witches and its introduction meant that from 1735 onwards an individual could no longer be tried as a witch in England or Scotland. However, they could be fined or imprisoned for purporting to have the powers of a witch.

The second misconception is that she was the last person to be convicted under the Witchcraft Act. Again this is incorrect. Records show that the last person to be convicted under the Witchcraft Act was Jane Rebecca Yorke in late 1944. Due to her age (she was in her seventies) she received a comparatively lenient sentence and was fined.

Additionally, it has often been suggested that the reason for Duncan's imprisonment was the authorities' fear that details of the imminent D-Day landings might be revealed, and given the revelation about the Barham it is clear to see why the medium might be considered a potential risk. Nonetheless, then prime minister Winston Churchill wrote to the home secretary branding the charge 'obsolete tomfoolery'.

Helen Duncan was released from prison on the 22 September 1944 and seems to have avoided further trouble until November 1956, when the police raided a private séance in Nottingham on suspicion of fraudulent activity. No charges were brought and shortly afterwards, on 6 December in the same year, the woman who is sometimes remembered as the 'last witch' died.

A campaign by her descendents to clear her name continues to this day.

The first pic is a bust f Helrn, which was presnted to the town of Callander, but such is the atitudes towards her it was rejected, it i nowon display at the Stirling Smith Art Gallery and Museum.

[f4nd0m-fun]

So I've had a couple of AU ideas since I've gotten back into the fandom and I'm kinda curious on what people think about them.

Monster AU - Snake and Shifter

In which Ran is only half human and Shinichi is only partially inhuman. Shinichi is descended from a line of shapeshifters who have mixed with humans so long the shifting is more or less danger driven, so good deaging was more his subconscious trying to protect him than the actual poison, meaning AI also has something like this going on - what if all the Blacks are shapeshifters to some degree? Meanwhile, Ran's mother was a Naga while Mouri is a human. Not much going on here but Ran probably has a stronger sense of smell than a human but weaker than a Naga and eventually, tho it may take a bit, realizes that Conan and Shinichi have similar scents. If the drug/deaging changed his scent then maybe she doesn't notice until after he manages to temporarily return as Shinichi, and his smell is similar to Conan's. She joins in on trying to help him re-age or something. They also aren't the only creeches but I dunno what the others would be.

TLDR, Shinichi and Ai have shapeshifter DNA and Ran is half Naga, she realizes Conan and Shinichi are the dang person because of scent and starts helping him.

Immortal AU - Don't trust magic

This one is both the least different and the most, in a manner of speaking. Shinichi, in an attempt to permanently reage himself, manages to succeed far longer than any previous attempts, and returns to Ran to try and salvage their relationship. Something happens and there's a backfire of sorts, not only reverting Shinichi back to Conan in front of Ran but unknowingly affecting her as well. It's not immediately obvious but, within a few years, it's noticed that doesn't really seem to be aging. Eventually, Shinichi returns to his age naturally or something, and realizes that Ran still hasn't gotten any older, when she should look at least ten years older, and soon he stops aging as well - they're stuck at the age Shinichi was trying to return to. They probably end up trying to reverse the situation, not knowing what would happen if they do, but if they fail at least they have each other. Speaking of which, I want to give them a supernatural ability thqt only works when they're holding hands or something but that might be too much.

TLDR, Shinichi tries magic or something to reage but indeed him and Ran are immortally stuck at the Shinichi's actual age and they're probably trying to find a counter spell.

Shifter AU - Cat to Kitten

Shinichi has always been able to turn into a cat, but it's something he hid from even Ran. But when he gets deaged, he becomes stuck in his cat form. Ran eventually finds him and takes care of him, naming him Conan after Shinichi's favorite author. Eventually he regains a partially human form, and Ran helps him hide the ears and tail. From here the story continues relatively the same, but with two secrets on the line. Also, beach episodes but instead of staring at Ran or something he's chasing birds and trying to avoid the water.

TLDR, Shinichi can turn into a cat and got forced into the form of a kitten, eventually the normal events of the show happen but with attempts to hide his inhuman features included.

Time AU - Physical Flashbacks

Ran is the reincarnation of a goddess or demigoddess of time, but she can't control her abilities. Mostly she gets visions, but sometimes she'll end up a few hours or so in the past in a bit of a time loop until she figures out why. This has allowed her to save Conan several times, but most of he times saving him were merely her own mortal skills. Eventually this fails. She's found out the truth, but Shinichi is dying, and she keeps trying to change things, and it's just not working. Somehow, the next time she goes back, she ends up at the beginning, after Shinichi has already been shrunk though, and has to figure out what to do in the past to prevent that death from ever happening, while also trying to decide if she should tell Conan she knows he's Shinichi.

TLDR, Ran is a reincarnation of some divinity tied to time but she can't control her abilities, she ends up in the past when Conan first showed up after Shinichi died and is now trying to prevent that death

[sunny-mercya]

Hey, Brother do you still believe in one another?

08. Therapy

Heiji Hattori x Male Reader | Platonic! Shinichi Kudo x Brother Reader

Fandom -> Detective Conan/Case Closed

Masterlist | Previous / Next |

Warning -> Mention of Self-Harm

Call the doc, I must be sick

Better get me my medicine 

Think I might need another prescription 

You hadn't been to your therapist, Mrs. Takana, since your last junior school year. She wanted you to start Senior year without any form of Medication or sessions, you were getting stable enough at this point and giving it try, in her opinion, would be good.

Being back now, in the child-friendly decorated like room of, felt off to say, almost weird. Nothing had really changed in here, besides a few additional toys—you guessed at least, because the they do look a lot more than before. 

You sat on the couch playing with some buildings blocks, which laid on the coffee table in front of you, as you waited for her to come in. Waiting in any kind of medical institutions was making you always anxious. 

Mrs.Takana opens and closing shortly afterwards the door, smiling at you and giving a short greeting, walking in with the folders tucked under her arm and carrying a tray with drinks and sweets. Putting the tray down onto the table, she takes her folders and takes a seat opposite of you.

«How are you doing [Name]?» Mr.Takana asks you, skimming through the papers and already begun to scribble down some notes. 

«I'm, I'm not sure.....» you told her, not really knowing how to properly word whats on your plaguing mind or how to tell her of the current situation you're in.

In all honestly, if it wasn't for your parents and Sachiko, you wouldn't have been coming back here at all. It wasn't like you didn't like Mr.Takana, she was a great therapist and helped you greatly during your elementary and junior years, but you thought—a dumb thought, that you could handle it on your own, how it wasn't and wouldn't get so worse at all. 

Your parents had come back for a visit, something they would do every three months or so to simply check up on Shinichi and you and because, they aren't admitting it aloud but you could tell from the way your mothers face brightens when she had the chance to eat some traditional and authentic sweets again, they sometimes do get homesick too.

They had, to be more precisely it was your dad who did, picked up on your behaviour. Noticing the self harming and destructive patterns, which had resurfaced again—though they hadn't completely gone, never would perhaps. How moody you were getting, snapping every so often at your mom for being too overbearing, overwhelming lovely, to you. The obvious lack of constant sleep and when you do get the chance to finally find some rest—you would wake up screaming from the nightmares.

Your tries of desperately covering everything with make-up. How anxious and paranoid you had gotten, whenever at night the front door isnt locked or the curtains closed.

Something was troubling you, bringing you into a state of fright. When Sachiko had elaborate her thoughts of possible why's, your mom had been the one to make appointment calls right away and dad reasoning with you why you should start with therapy again. They only meant it well.

~~~

«That's fine, how about we play a bit with the building blocks and you tell me when your ready, take your time.» Mrs.Takana, true to her words, was starting to take the blocks and stacking them. She wasn't going to push you into telling her, knowing well enough that stressing a patient would cause more harm than good. And time you took, a hour had passed with you two just sitting in silence and stacking blocks and eating some sweets. 

«I....well it started, I mean.....» you paused, discarding the blocks completely, putting them aside on the ground. Taking one of the mystery puzzle boxes, mysterious because the picture had been covered up, from under the table. You could focus more if you do puzzles.

«Shin-chan had disappeared without a word or that's what he wanted me to believe. I seriously had thought he had died, I was worried sick but it turns out Shinichi is just ignoring me on purpose, because he calls Ran every so often. I don't know, it just really hurts that he does this........and like—» you paused, scratching your wrist as hard as you could before continuing.

Mrs.Takana letting you as you pleased, observing you. She knew exactly when she had to step in, to stop you from going into a full blown panic attack. She takes notes of everything you were telling her, about your troubles and the emotions you were feeling.

«Are you able to get some sleep?» she asks you, one of the few serious questions she would ask you in between.

«No. Just a few minimal hours here and there, but most of the times I drinks lots of black coffee to keep myself functional awake.»

«And your nightmares?»

«Getting worse with each day. I mostly sleep in my parents room nowadays to get a bit of comfort, but it ain't helping anymore...»

«[Name], had the thoughts of self-harming occurred again? Did you restart with hurting yourself?»

You nibbled on your lower lips, bitting and pulling skin. You had gone silent after her last question. Putting all your focus on the puzzle now, which you had almost completed. A picture of cats it was. There would be no use in lying about it.

«Yeah.....I did....again......I tried not to think about, but when I had looked in the mirror and saw myself, I couldn't, couldn't help it and took the next best blade and start to cut..........honestly, the only thing I fear about this, is that they will noticing it, I think they already did tho, and like be disappointed in me....»

~~~

Four hours you had talked with Mrs.Takana and now you had to attend weekly, if nothing comes between it, a session with her.

Walking out of the clinic, it actually was more a separate ward of the Hospital, you waved at Sachiko, which was coming to pick you up. Conan was with her. 

«Why are you here munchkin?» you had crouched down to him and tapped his nose as a greeting, a small smile on your lips. 

«Auntie Yukiko had asked me to go with Sachiko, she also told me to tell you, that she wants to go shopping with you tomorrow. Ne [Nickname], what were you doing here? Are you sick?»

Your mom wanting to go shopping with you on her second last day, before flying back to the USA, was so her. 

«I had a appointment, nothing to worry about. Anyways, Sachi I need to go to the pharmacy first and then we could go to an Café, sounds good or? I'm a bit hungry after all.» standing back up, you took Conans hand in yours and starting to walk.

Mrs.Takana had given you a prescription for a few medications, it was more than what you got prescribed the first time. 

«Oh [Name]~ I have to tell you about the new make-up collection from Fionala! I can't wait to – » Sachiko rambled on about girly stuff, Conan blending her out.

Conan knew exactly what sort of appointment you had here. Back then, when he still had been Shinichi, he sometimes would accompany to them, giving you support and waiting for you. 

Conan didn't knew that your mental health had gotten so bad again, but then again with him staying by Ran, how was he able to know at all? He have to ask his parents tonight about it.

Pills and potions

we're overdosing

[incorrectgallaghergirlsquotes]

7. Jigsaw by Conan Gray Picked by an IG follower 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“Hey, dad, nice to see you too,” Macey replied. Her tone was even, offsetting her father’s demanding one. She could see him in the reflection of the mirror she was looking in, so she didn’t bother turning around. It’s not like his anger and disappointment wasn’t palpable either way. 

“Macey...what...put that down!” 

“A little late for that,” she replied as the needle finally slid through the front of her ear to the back. Before her father could continue yelling at her, she heard her mother's footsteps. Great, she thought as she replaced the needle with an earring, she’d get it from both of them now. Sure enough, they stood a few feet from her in the doorway of her bathroom and talked about her like she wasn’t there. By the time they looked Macey’s way again, her other ear was done as well. 

They started directing their verbal attack at her while Macey calmly continued getting ready. 

“You can’t keep going on with these trashy clothes and this bad haircut-,” her mother was saying. 

“And bad attitude,” her father added. 

“People are going to think you’re insane! And that we allowed this!” 

Macey did her best to ignore them. She learned a long time ago that it didn’t matter what she changed. She could cut herself to slivers with kitchen scissors and it still wouldn’t be enough for them. She thought about Cammie and her mom and Bex and her parents. Maybe if she still cared she’d try to be more like her sisters, but that wasn’t fair. To anyone, but least of all to herself. Besides, she glanced at the calendar on her wall, in just a few days they had a public appearance where her parents were for sure going to dress her up like the little doll child they wished to have. 

The public appearance came all too quickly, and she found herself standing in front of a mirror not recognizing herself. Her mom appeared in the reflection behind her. “Oh good,” she said. “You look presentable for once.” 

Macey thought she looked like a jigsaw of pieces that didn’t go together and she had half a mind to ridicule her mother's taste. Or eyesight. Instead, she kept quiet, frowning at herself. Every time they needed her, they only wanted the parts of her that benefited them. The rest, the parts that were her, they just discarded. 

There was a time she genuinely thought her parents liked her. Back when she couldn’t think for herself and did as she was told, exclusively (so like, until the age of 6). When she felt that love slipping away, she tried her hardest to make herself someone they would still love. It was no use though. Once people stop loving you, there’s nothing you can do. All she’d done just to make them happy, putting herself into things that were painful and didn’t fit, were for nothing. She had tried when they hadn’t so, she refused to believe she was the issue in their relationship. 

So yeah, as a teenager she was bitter. Sue her. 

She looked herself up and down once more. If she made them like her, would she even like herself? 

Her mother made another comment behind her, pointing out some flaw probably. Macey didn’t know, it just sounded like grating metal. 

“Are we ready?” her father asked, coming into the room. 

“We are,” her mother said. She gripped Macey’s arm tightly and dragged her out of the room.  

Macey walked down the hall, shoved in between her parents. From the outside it probably looked like two loving parents keeping their child close. It didn’t feel loving, though. It felt constricting. Suffocating. And for as much as Macey pretended not to care, every time they faked being a family, she could practically feel her inner child screaming out. If they could fake it so well then why couldn’t they just mean it and love her? 

The event came and went. The suffocating feeling fell away as her parents put an ocean between themselves and her again. It stung somewhere deep inside but on the surface Macey was grateful. She wondered how long it would take them to notice if she gave herself another piercing. The small acts of defiance were all she had until school picked up again.  

Then she would have her real family back. 

[sunnylighter]

💥📚✨️👻🥳💛 I know that's a lot but i couldn't decide.

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

Definitely have Misako be a better mother to Lloyd.

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

Well, Kay Hau, my beta reader does some great stuff. @kittydemon9000 and @impulsivefanwriter also do some really good Ninjago fics too.

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

Well, one that stands out is one I got for an old crossover I did on Fanfiction.net called Similarities. It was one of the few comments it got since it was a crossover of two low-traffic fandoms, but it mentioned how some unnoticed fics can be incredible

The first comment I ever got on my first fic was that my premise was interesting and they couldn't wait to see where I go with it. It was very encouraging and is part of what got me into writing them. I liked that other people liked my work.

Some people say my fic's updates are the highlight of their week, and that always makes me smile. Especially when it's clear they're really excited to see the new chapter.

I know it said three, but I just thought of another one. When I did the Fuchsia Ninja reveal, I apparently totally blew someone's mind, and the wonderfully flabbergasted comment they left afterward had me laughing in an airport as I read it.

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

It's not romantic, they can be just really good friends, actually. (This can be applied to any fandom).

Though, really, now that you ask I can't think of one. I'll reblog later if I think of a wilder headcanon.

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

I was into Detective Conan in high school and had always loved the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys book series. I saw there weren't any crossovers between the two, so I figured I'd write my own. The reviews were good, which got me hooked on writing more.

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

THIS IS FOR FUN!!! Specifically, MY fun. While I don't want to let people down if they're enjoying my work, I also know stress, pressure, or waning interest in the material can kill my creativity for a work. While my initial inspiration can net me a ton of chapters at the beginning, slowly I burn out and need a break. Sometimes I go back and finish it later. Sometimes that break never ends, and that's okay. Because I write these stories because I find writing them fun. If it stops being fun I stop writing, and no amount of passive-aggressive comments is going to change that. I write for my own enjoyment, and that's what makes me love it so much.

Also, my spelling and grammar skills have vastly improved since the start.

[starcchild]

5 Songs that Remind You of Your Muse

Tagged by: @thiscrimsonsoul Tagging: anyone!!

main verse

1) Bird Set Free - Keala Settle

And I don't care if I sing off key / I found myself in my melodies / I sing for love, I sing for me / I shout it out like a bird set free / No I don't care if I sing off key / I found myself in my melodies / I sing for love, I sing for me / I'll shout it out like a bird set free

2) You're On Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes / I called a taxi to take me there / I search the party of better bodies / Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare / You're on your own, kid / You always have been

3) Colour My Heart by Charlotte OC

Don't colour my heart blues and greys / Don't tell me that I'm not ok / Don't colour me with all your shades / Don't colour my heart cause I'll make it through / Yeah, I'll make it through / No more tears for you / Don't colour my heart

4) King of Anything by Sara Bareilles

All my life I've tried (Tried) / To make everybody happy while I / Just hurt (Hurt) and hide / Waiting for someone to tell me it's my turn to decide

5) World's Smallest Violin by AJR

My grandpa fought in World War II / He was such a noble dude / I can't even finish school / Missed my mom and left too soon / His dad was a fireman / Who fought fires so violent / I think I bored my therapist / While playing him my violin

ikau

1) Eight by Sleeping At Last

I remember the minute / It was like a switch was flipped / I was just a kid who grew up strong enough to pick this armor up / And suddenly it fit / God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago / I was little, I was weak and perfectly naive / And I grew up too quick

2) Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift

It's me, hi / I'm the problem, it's me / At teatime, everybody agrees / I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror / It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

3) It's Alright by Mother Mother

Oh hey, I had a night I had a day / I did one million stupid things / I said one billion foolish things / I'm not okay, I got a baseball bat beside my bed / To fight off what's inside my head / To fight off what's behind my meds / I'm lonely; lost in pain / It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay / You're not a monster, just a human / And you made a few mistakes / It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay / You're not gruesome, just human / And you made a few mistakes / It's alright, oh, it's okay, oh

4) Oh No! by MARINA

I know exactly what I want and who I want to be / I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine / I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy / Oh! Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no, oh! / One track mind, one track heart / If I fail, I'll fall apart / Maybe it is all a test / 'Cause I feel like I'm the worst / So I always act like I'm the best

5) Family Line by Conan Gray

Oh-oh / All that I did to try to undo it / All of my pain and all your excuses / I was a kid, but I wasn't clueless / (Someone who loves you wouldn't do this) / All of my past, I tried to erase it / But now I see, would I even change it? / Might share a face and share a last name but / (We are not the same, same) / Scattered 'cross my family line / I'm so good at telling lies / That came from my mother's side / Told a million to survive / Scattered 'cross my family line / God, I have my father's eyes / But my sister's when I cry / I can run, but I can't hide / From my family line

[zoekrystall]

Found a german shaman king (2001. not the netflix one I just learned abt today) stream and will binge this anime now bc god do I miss it since I watched the first few eps over and over on wach durch die nacht on disney xd. Listened to the opening for hours today when I woke up. Nowadays I usually watch subbed (or rarely in eng) but if I first watched it in german and I yearn for the nostalgia or/and the voices were just perfect imo then I absolutely go w my mother language. Hope the site got detective conan bc I really want to watch that too and the german voices are just top. Watched a few movies n eps on tv and ugh I miss it. I'm gonna look at so much from childhood in the next weeks I think since I currently got too much free time on my hands. Idk how it's nowadays but 1 german openings slapped most of the time 2 the voice actors were really good. I'm so sorry german idk why I started to hate on you. I could use the time to kinda catch up on one piece (all I know is from the warrior games nowadays n what I watched in kindergarten n the first few school classes so safe to say it's. been a while) but that's more of a commitment than the more one off eps of conan imo. I find if funny how it's the site I found bc I wanted to check the katrielle layton anime out that apparently only released in japanese and german. I almost thought I had to watch it subbed before I luckily remembered that site.

As much as I want to fully relax and get absorbed do I need to be on alert for a package that requires import tax payment OTL but after that I can so here's hoping the mail comes soon and that the worker waits more than one damn second before going "sorry we didn't meet anyone to deliver :(" like bitch you would have if you would let me come to get the door. I get wanting to be done asap but please. It's a doujin it's whatever I can wait (fuck taxes tho. why are you getting taxed you're not even expensive!! I sometimes bought more and didn't pay extra what is this. Will never forget a single fucking pkmn card getting taxed it's ridiculous) but imagine the deliveries getting this treatment that are important.

Anyways aside from that mess will today hopefully be cozy. :3

I also think abt making a pinned post that's a shorter abt than the carrd (mainly wanna keep using them bc I love styling stuff) for people that just want to know quick specific stuff or so. Also I actually talk on pillowfort wow it's not just used for moodboard crosspost now. Already wanna inhabit it a bit more. Most is set to mutuals or followers only tho but I like that you can decide that not the whole world sees it. But I try to maybe talk more on main here too like rn. But most will stay on a sideblog bc I like how that one doesn't show up in searches and is w rare occasions just own posts.

[togrowoldinv]

The Wonder

Florence Pugh x Reader

You attend the premiere of The Wonder with your girlfriend Florence

Note: Florence was just absolutely gorgeous today. I had to write this. It’s soft! Enjoy!

Florence Pugh Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You watch in awe as your perfect girlfriend walks across the red carpet. You stay a few steps behind her and listen in as she interacts with her fans. It’s your favorite thing in the world to see your girl shining so bright.

“Come here, my love,” you hear her call for you. You step closer to her, and she wraps an arm around you. Fans cheer and tell you both how cute you are together. Florence grins and thanks them for their compliments.

You walk by her side down the line of fans. At one point, she stops when she feels someone pull on her coat. You both turn to see a small girl looking up at Florence with wide eyes.

“Are you a princess?” the little girl asks.

“Oh, you’re so sweet!” Florence absolutely beams at the girl. The child’s mother takes the cutest photo of her daughter and Florence as you watch her with a huge smile on your face.

You help Florence out of her coat for her official red carpet photos. She hands you her phone and you smile at the intimacy of holding her things for her. She looks absolutely brilliant as she poses for the cameras and does interviews.

“Are you ready to go inside?” Florence asks you.

“Yeah baby,” you say. You follow her but pull her hand gently back towards you before she can walk into the building.

“What is it, darling? Are you okay?” she asks you, knowing sometimes you get nervous at events like this.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you assure her with a smile. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re absolutely stunning tonight and I love you so much.”

“I love you so fucking much,” Florence says before she crashes her lips into yours. Her soft hands caress your cheeks as her lips chase after yours. The kiss gets a little heated and you decide to break apart before too many people have seen you.

Florence blushes as you kiss her lips one more quick time before following her inside.

The movie is amazing as you knew it would be, and everyone gives Florence a standing ovation. You clap the loudest, naturally.

When you get to your hotel room, you open a bottle of wine and lay on the bed. Florence is still in her dress, and you watch as she treks over to you. She all but jumps on the bed and wraps one arm around you while the other lifts your chin.

Her lips graze against yours lightly and she giggles. You smile too and wrap your arms around her.

“You know I do think you’re a princess,” you tell Florence.

“Oh yeah?” she asks. She leans back a bit to look you in the eyes.

“Yep. You’re my princess, my girl, my love, my everything,” you say sweetly. Florence swoons and buries her face in your neck at the overwhelming praise. You run your hand through her blonde hair. It’s the perfect length right now.

“I love you,” she says as she kisses your neck.

“I love you too,” you tell her.

“I love you most,” you both say at the same time, and she shifts to kiss your lips again.

You really love seeing your girl shine.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @be-missed @mythosphere-x @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @laaurrel @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @flosbelova @yelenabelovaisthebettersister @ggrangerdanger @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @mortallytremendoussandwich @xxromanoffxx @whitemanshoe19 @peanutbutterprincess @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @marie45019 @inluvwithfictionalwomen @kacka84 @sammi1642 @jujuu23 @hb8301 @the-night-owl-blr @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @harleysincairo @red1culous @rach2602 @lovelyy-moonlight @wandas-slut-heart @natblackwidow2 @youralphawolf72 @btay3115 @wandasbb @itbeila @shin-conan-kun @notbornbutforged @makegoodchoices @theprinceofmarvel @blue-serendipityy @bookfrog242 @wizardofstories @karsonromanoff

[sadisticwoof-dcmk]

Things about Toyama Kazuha that I deem as facts

(aka more of my headcanons: an addition to my series Sonoko and Shinichi friendship and Suzuki Sonoko)

Family:

- Kazuha used to live in a small apartment with her mum when she was younger, but they moved into a bigger house once her mum married her boyfriend-now-husband, Toyama Ginshiro, when Kazuha was six years old  - Her mother also changed her last name from Kawaguchi to Toyama when she married him - Kazuha was the flower girl at her parent's wedding (Heiji was upset he couldn’t be the flower girl)  - Her step-dad loves her with every fiber of his being and treats her like his own daughter  - There was a brief period of time where Heiji and Kazuha were convinced that her mum was a vampire. They barely remember how it started, but Heiji spent those weeks in awe that Kazuha was part supernatural  - (Heiji still calls her mum Vampire-okan every now and then) - She has three small moles on her neck. The third one was only recently discovered, and they spent years thinking they had proof that Kazuha was a vampire  - has grandparents on her step-dad's side that lives out in the countryside. she refers to them as the "peacock grandparents" since they have said birds running around their yard. she visits them every holiday

 Skills:

- She learnt JSL and can sign pretty well. Her grandmother on her mother’s side is deaf so she took lessons as a child. she tried to teach Heiji, but gave up quiet quickly. at least he recognises the sign for "dumbass" - She is left-handed for most things  - Kazuha is a lovely alto and her and Heiji sometimes harmonise along to songs  - Shoves her shoes on without unlacing them. its not a skill. she just refuses to admit defeat - is weirdly good at staring contests? Ran is the only person who has gotten close to beating her - makes cute charms all the time. Ran has commissioned her to make a few omamori for Conan, and then one for Shinichi. Sonoko heard about it and threw money at her until Kazuha made one for herself and Makoto. - because of this, she is also very good at sewing. half of her wardrobe is made up of items that she had thrifted and hemmed/altered.

Fears:

- She has a new fear of cliffs and heights. If she has to go near them, she will hold Heiji’s hand the entire time and refuse to let go  - She also found out that she cannot handle cliff climbing. The feeling of being stuck on the wall sucks and the harness around her body is a no go (reminds her too much of the time she was strung up in the spider mansion)  - She can no longer go to petrol stations since the smell of gasoline makes her gag and panic 

Sleep:

- is a night owl and can’t fall asleep before 12am (she calls Heiji and old man for getting tired by 10pm)  - Her friends know that she will be up at odd hours. She will send random memes at 3am with no explanation  - has fairy lights strung up in her room to ward off nightmares

School:

- once managed to get 2 points out of 20 on a science test when she was in primary school. Her mum laughed so much when Kazuha proudly showed it and her mum got her step-dad to buy a picture frame on his way back home from work.  (it pains Heiji every time he sees it in the living room) - captain of the Aikido Team - when she was younger she threatened to beat someone up for talking shit about a another student in her class. interestingly enough, that student shut up immediately

Friends:

- She loves wearing hoodies around the house, and always steals Heiji’s against his will  - Randomly breaks out into mock sword fights with Heiji anytime they have a long object in their hand  - Kazuha and Heiji celebrate their Hate-versary every year. It marks the day they had a massive fight and vowed that they will never be each other’s best friends. They were nine and they made up to each other the very next day  - They recreate the iconic photo of them crying, obviously having been forced to be in the photo together  - most of the time, she can tell what he is thinking or feeling by a minor expression on his face - received a Fusae bag from Sonoko and it is one of the most expensive items she owns - She rarely has her hair out. At home, she might pull it into braids  - When heiji is agitated, he will start playing with the ribbon in her hair, so she will let down her hair and he mindlessly braids small sections, unravelling it, and starting again. Over and over until he feels settled (it feels so nice so she happily lets him do this) 

Kazuha is a wonderful girl and i would like everyone to appreciate her just as much as i do. feel free to check out Shenanigans in Beika because she (alongside everyone) is chaotic and i love that for her

[hnnyoongs]

Kudo Yukiko Headcanons

the first few headcanons are from my post on my incorrect dcmk quotes twitter account so check that out if you want

She's half japanese and half white.

Her hair is all natural, since her eyebrows are also the same color as her hair, even in the flashback from high school so unless she's been dying her eyebrows for 20 or so years...yeah she's got natural reddish-brown hair.

It's not like she was adopted or moved to Japan because her birth name, Fujimine Yukiko, is still completely in Japanese. There are two different reasons for way he name cold be this way. Either she's a bastard/unwanted child of a white man so she adopts her mother's last name or she's got a japanese father and a white mother and she just uses her father's last name like most people.

Yukiko being half white with what seems to be canonically some euro-centric features would have helped her career boost a bunch on the international level. It's fucked up but people of color, especially asians, have a very hard time entering the international acting scene. Detective Conan tells us she's picked up awards from all around the globe and she's got connections throughout Hollywood and Broadway.

Her success in the United States would be easier for the western media to stomach if she had a white parent and could speak English. Unless Detective Conan suddenly doesn't have xenophobia and racism, she would have faced hurdles.

She bonds with Ai about the discrimination they face because of how they look both in Japan and in the US.

Shinichi used to demand Yukiko to read him the original Sherlock Holmes books written by Arthur Conan Doyle in English as bedtime stories, which she did

Yukiko was a child actor.

Now I know canon says that she debuted at 18 but that really does not make any sense what so ever for her to get like every single godamn award at that age. I think that she started out as a small time child actor in Japan but then her talent catapulted her into national fame by the time she started junior high.

The movies she was in Japan became hits internationally once she became a teenager, kind of like how Parasite blew up despite the language barrier. Some of the shows she starred in were dubbed into English because they became so popular but fans outside of Japan wanted her to star in something bigger.

Once she got into high school she began her international career, starring in Hollywood blockbuster after Hollywood blockbuster. She guest starred in some American TV shows and was so popular her characters became recurring characters. Yukiko even took part in a Broadway musical for the funsies, she was on American talk shows and the general population of the USA loved her.

Yukiko built herself up from the ground, from as young as the age of four she was handling her paperwork when it came to acting. This may seem unrealistic but at least in the real life American acting industry, child actors are instructed to take care of everything themselves. Producers don't want your parents on set, they expect 6 year olds to be able to have everything in order.

Yukiko had to travel a lot for her job and in doing so she started thinking that Japan was too small for her, that she wanted to see the world, all the interesting things outside of her boring neighborhood where the same things happen day in and day out. It didn't help that her parents would travel with the money Yukiko had made, so when she had her own son she began to do what her parents did and also what she had wanted to do since a young child. Little did she realize that her son was not her, that her travels would hurt him in a different way than it hurt her.

Teitan was a really accommodating school and took her absences in stride. Yukiko was on good terms with everyone there and was pretty good friends with Kogoro and therefore friends with Eri by extension since wherever one of those two went the other would follow behind trying start up some shit. This is why Teitan is so okay with Shinichi missing school for months, because his mother was similar. This is also why the school is so good at hiding info about Shinichi coming and going, since they had to hide stuff about Yukiko from the media back in the day.

Yukiko can hold a tune but she's not phenomenal at singing either.

She's not as bad as her son, she a little above average to be honest but her acting skills made up for her pretty normal singing when she starred in a Broadway musical. The only reason the musical did so well was because of her popularity.

She helped a lot of other people in broadway with their acting skills which is why even though she's nothing remarkable when it comes to her voice, she's still well loved by the industry.

Yukiko is bisexual.

Her first love was Yusaku and she never had a crush before him. all she really cared about was her career but she loved Yusaku so much she quit. Sometimes she regrets quitting because she misses being on the stage or the big screen or even the small screen but she never lets her husband or son know about these doubts because she's terrified of what their reactions would be.

Shinichi was not planned and Yukiko knew that if she were to raise him that would mean leaving her job at the height of her career but Yukiko felt like the baby inside of her was the light of her life and for him she would destroy the world, yusaku and herself if her child desired such a thing.

Yukiko knew Sharon (who we know as Vermouth) since Yukiko started to trickle into Hollywood but she only started to feel attracted to the woman long after she'd gotten married and had Shinichi. She never voiced her feelings but Yusaku found out anyway and they talked about it. They decided that the healthiest option was for Yukiko to tell Sharon about it in order to get it off her chest when they got the news that the actress had died. When Yukiko found out that Sharon was actually Vermouth it took a real toll on her mental health, not that anyone except Yusaku knew about how hard she took it.

Yukiko and Yusaku both partook in polyamory in the very early stages of their relationship though once they had Shinichi they stopped until they decided Shinichi would be able to chose because they valued his opinion and if their son wasn't okay with the idea that one day the media might unveil that the kudo couple were part of the Hollywood sex scene then they'd decide not to go back into the whole mess. At age 14 Shinichi told them they could do whatever as long as he didn't have to hear the details.

Yukiko wanted to pull Shuichi into a relationship with her and Yusaku, citing that the couple and the FBI agent only had a 5 year age gap Shuichi said he wasn't interested in anything romantic or sexual after Akemi died so the Kudo couple respected his wishes

Yukiko would spend time asking Shuichi questions about the FBI and about himself and observing the man in general whenever she came to check up on his disguise and once she got back to the US she would give Yusaku her notes who in turn wrote the screenplay for "The Scarlet Investigator". Yukiko suggested adding a side couple that owns the house that the main character rents, based off of Yusaku and Yukiko, which Yusaku does by inverting their genders and changing their nationalities to suit a western audience.

Yukiko breaks several laws to make sure that Conan's identity is not outed.

She has Jii and Kaito to mess with security footage, she pays off witness who see him and makes them sign NDAs, and Yusaku does this as well though he does it to a much lesser extent because Shinichi's more likely to get angry at Yusaku for sticking his nose into Shinichi's case than Shinichi would be angry at Yukiko

If Ai ever needs some banned substances that Agasa can't get in order to create the antidote, Yukiko sends her what she needs in bulk

Yukiko will forever hate herself for not realizing Shinichi had gone missing for 2 weeks. If apotoxin worked properly Shinichi would have died and Yukiko wouldn't know because her and Yusaku had turned their phones off for a month straight and only came back to Japan when they turned their phones on again to see that Agasa had left them a message about Shinichi turning into Conan, Ran had texted them asking if they knew where Shinichi was and the school wanted to know why Shinichi was absent

Yukiko continues to bribe Kogoro throughout Conan's stay at the Mouri Detective Agency but it comes to her surprise that Kogoro had saved almost all of it into a college fund for Conan, implying that Kogoro does not plan to give Conan back to his original parents if they ever decide to show up again.

sorry for this word vomit lol

[aruuq]

“Again” – Kazutora Hanemiya Angst

characters: kazutora x gn!reader + kazutora x chifuyu; chifuyu x gn!reader but that’s not what matters

genre & style: angst, bonten future

word count: 1k

notes: i wanted to write a short drabble, 'cause today’s the third of december and because of this i feel in the “heather” by conan gray mood, but somehow, it ended up without any references to it. it's so refreshing to write an angst after a long time without writing them. i love this bittersweet feeling

warnings: slight spoilers from bonten future (only about kazutora and chifuyu’s work), if you relate to kazutora’s story it might be triggering to you, unrequited love, abandonment, the feeling of crying in a car alone, mentions of character’s death (baji)

It’s indisputable that you, Chifuyu and Kazutora are best friends. Since you’ve accidentally met them, you’ve become inseparable. You always hang out together, you help them out in the shop, bring them lunch, spend evenings watching rom coms and rewatching your favorite animes. It has become a habit of yours – to literally be by their sides every day, and if it is not possible, then every other day. The whole time you consider yourselves as platonic soulmates, meant to meet each other, getting the best out of yourselves.

It’s perfect. Especially for Kazutora, who no longer feels abandoned, who’s no longer this stray cat wandering around corners searching for happiness, who’s no longer alone. He often talks to Baji before sleep, telling him about the perfect friends he has, the blessing you and Chifuyu are. He says, “I wish you were here too, with your unfunny jokes, and attitude always setting the mood up.” You and Chifuyu are his paradise, an oasis in the middle of the desert he’s felt after Baji’s death.

So why does it hurt so much when you start spending more time only with Chifuyu? “Sorry, Zuzu, we’re visiting Chifuyu’s mother this weekend, we won’t be able to hang out.” Why? Why can’t you take him with you? She knows him. Chifuyu’s mother knows him, he’s helped her with hanging shelves the first time he’s visited the Matsuno household, the second time he’s been there she even baked his favorite cookies so he could enjoy them. So why can’t he join you? “Sorry, Zuzu! We need to run some errands, ya know, buying clothes and other stupid things. But we’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?” What’s different? You’ve always been hanging at malls, searching for funky shirts for him, and more toned ones for Chifuyu. Why can’t he join you, it will be way more fun this way! It’s always fun… “I really apologize, Zuzu! We can’t see you tonight, we are going to the restaurant!” Why? He’s prepared your favorite snacks and drinks, and even borrowed a few really old movies. It would be ten times more entertaining to watch it with him than to sit in some bourgie place with sticks up your asses, without the ability to talk loud, and laugh wholeheartedly, and stuff a whole handful of popcorn in your mouth. It would be better if you just cut this bullshit and spend this night with him. “I know I've been repeating myself recently, but we really can’t come today! Sorry! We need to go to the wholesaler, ‘cause the shop’s running out of dog food.” You’re not even working at the shop, so why is it you who’s going with Chifuyu and not him? He’s happy that you help them, but why can’t the three of you go? Why only you two? And what has happened to the usual Zuzu you always use to baby him. Why haven’t you used it this time?

“Me and Fuyu decided to live together. I’m moving out in two weeks. Would you mind helping me?” You scratch the side of your neck while bouncing on your feet. Kazutora hasn’t seen you for what seems like eternity. You look… different. Maybe it’s new clothes? Or a new hairstyle? He’s not sure, he’s never had a good eye for detail.

“Oh, cool! At his apartment, right?” You nod. “My contract with the landlord is coming to an end soon too, maybe after this I’m gonna move out to live with you guys too, huh?” He’s smiling. Everything might go back to what it used to be, a perfect balance, harmony in your lives. You’ll be spending time as it used to be, and you’ll watch stupid movies again, and watch rom coms, and you’ll laugh when he burns something in kitchen again, and…

“Oh… Actually, we would prefer to live only by ourselves. The two of us. You know, just like couples do.” You toy with the pendant on your necklace. Kazutora has never seen it before, but it looks so pretty, adorning your neck and collarbones. He focuses on it more than on your words, and, oh. So this is what has changed. Chifuyu has always had a great eye for details after all.

“I was only joking!” He stutters, smiling widely. And he knows that you know he fakes it. You know him too well, and by the serious look on your face, eyebrows puckered, lips in a thin line, he’s sure that you will start asking him what’s wrong. But it never actually comes.

“A good one, Tora!” You pat his shoulder. It’s never been so awkward between the two of you. He fists his hands in the pockets, digging nails in his flesh. “I’m… I’m gonna go. I still have a lot to do, so… See ya!” And you just go. Waving and smiling softly, leaving him completely alone.

Kazutora stares at his trembling palms, fresh red marks adorning aching skin, as the urge to scream, to cry, and to destroy something slowly builds in him. Has everything really come full circle? He bites his lower lip, as he gets into his car, slamming the door hard behind him. You are friends. There’s Fuyu, and Y/N, and Zuzu, not Tora or Kazutora, or anything else. Zuzu. Best friends. Platonic soulmates. You've known each other for years. You are inseparable. You always laugh together, always get angry together, and always cry on each other's shoulders. So why is he crying alone now? He loves the two of you. He feels as if he’s never loved anyone else like this. But it doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter if these feelings are platonic or not, it doesn’t matter because they don’t matter.

“How does it happen again, huh, Baji?”

Kazutora lets the tears overflow, allowing himself to drown in them, their warmth reminding him why he’s alive. Loud sobs bounce off the insides of the car. Has he always loved you? Was it meant to be like this from the beginning? Merciless voices inject poison into his veins, reminding him of everything that’s happened in the past. Hitting the car’s headboard with his sore palm, he slams his head against the steering wheel repeatedly trying to silence them, begging them to stop. It’s going to be a long night.

[kakiwrites]

astronomy

Genre: angst

Hajime iwaizumi x reader

Warning: cancer, y/n death

Synopsis: when you get diagnosed with cancer, you wanted to spend what little time you had left completing your bucket list with iwaizumi.

a/n: blame @tendousfingerbandagess for this idea. I was just listening to conan gray's new song 'astronomy' then prompted this idea. I want to share my pain with you all hehehe! Let's get started.

"we found that you have acute lymphocytic leukemia…" were the first and only words you heard from the doctor before blood suddenly rushed to your ears.

You were rushed to the hospital by your boyfriend, Iwaizumi, when your very high fever kept coming back every few hours. Hajime sat next to you as the doctor broke the news to you, trying to comfort you by running his thumb over your clenched knuckle. He hoped to ease you into the harsh reality that was brought upon you but you couldn't feel anything then. All you felt was the piercing cold. You didn't know if it was a symptom of your new diagnosis or because of the news itself.

"w-well, can you still treat it?" Iwaizumi asked for you, squeezing your hand to attempt and bring you back into this conversation.

"we can but it'll be painful-"

"what if I don't want to be treated?" you suddenly chimed in. that caused Hajime to turn to you with a shocked expression. No. You have to get treated. He can't lose you.

"w-what are you saying, (y/n)? Y-you can't be serious." Iwaizumi let out a humorless chuckle, praying that you would laugh along and reassure him that you were kidding. But you didn't do that. You sat straight in the uncomfortable chair, waiting for the doctor's response.

"Well, though it is not ideal, we can delay putting you on the transplant list but that will lessen your chances to survive. Chemo therapy is also on the table." the doctor replied professionally, his clipboard opened on your file to take note of your wishes.

"I want to delay both as of now. I-I just need time to think…" your voice cracked. You wanted to be strong. To show your boyfriend that you could handle it and that you'll be okay. But from the looks of your face, how you trembled beside him, iwaizumi knew that it was the exact opposite of what you were trying to portray. The doctor nodded his head before he left you alone with a confused and distraught Iwa.

"why?" Iwa's voice was barely above whisper as his glassy eyes looked into yours in sorrow. He wanted you to live. He already planned his future with you. How you would have two kids running around the small house you two would purchase to accommodate your family. But now, he wasn't so sure if that same dream of his will come to life. The only thing he could do now was pray that you'll survive and live through this.

"I want to live my life, haj," you replied. You shot him a sad grin before you took a deep breath and spoke once more. "I want to live my life to the fullest before I grow weak and have to sit in a hospital room and wait impatiently for the small chance that I'll find a donor or see any big progresses." you let out a watery laugh. Damn, this was harder than it looks. "I want to live my last stronger moments with you." tears ran down your cheeks at the end of your little speech. You looked back to see iwaizumi's tears flowing down just like yours did.

Iwaizumi brought your hand up to his quivering lips and placed a soft kiss on them. "then I'll help you. I'll help you live your life to the fullest." he placed another kiss on your knuckle, a sign of a promise he was willing to do anything to keep.

"okay, I'm done!" you called Iwa. You placed your pen down and waited for him to pop out from your shared bedroom.

Iwaizumi smiled and sat next to you on the couch, reaching a hand out to take the slip of paper from you. You gave it to him willingly. "have a road trip around Japan, adopt a puppy, try delicacies in each city we visit, bungee jumping, and star gazing. Wow, it looks like we have a lot of things to do~" he said, wrapping his arm around you and bringing you closer as his eyes skimmed through the list once more.

You nodded your head in agreement. Iwaizumi explained to his team that he wouldn't be there as often because of your diagnosis. They all agreed that your health came first and that they'll be fine hearing his critiques on their forms and diet from home. Just like that, he already sacrificed so much for your sake. He now asked you to write down a small little bucket list you could do together before you decide to settle down and get better. He promised to help you live your life to the fullest after all.

"When do you think is the best time to start working on this?" he asked, waving the list in his hand. You shrugged. You didn't want to rush him into finishing this and risk burning your boyfriend out. This was his time to relax and have fun beside you. "We should get packing then!" he took both of your hands and pulled you up from your seat, causing a giggle to bubble up from your throat. You tilted your head when his words sank into your brain. Pack? Right now?

"You want me to pack? Right now?" you asked skeptically. Iwa chuckled before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss on your soft lips.

"because we're going on that road-trip tomorrow, you idiot." Hajime watched your eyes lit up with glee before you skipped into your bedroom and packed your shared luggage.

Even in the devastating predicament you were in, you didn't stop being so positive and happy. That was one of the things he loved about you.

"We drive through the woods

Rich neighborhoods to watch

We joked as we looked

That they were too good for us

Cause socially speaking we were the same

With runaway fathers and mothers who drank

A tale old as time

Young love don't last for life"

You sat in the passenger seat of Hajime's car, a blanket keeping you comfortable while Conan Gray's astronomy blaring through the speakers. Iwaizumi couldn't help but bop his head behind the wheel while you sang along.

"damn, your voice sounds amazing." he complimented, causing your cheeks to feel hot. Iwaizumi chuckled before he turned and parked in the wide parking lot of the animal shelter.

"wait! Are we getting the puppy now?!" you squealed excitedly. Iwaizumi clicked his seatbelt off and hummed in confirmation. You never got out of the car that quickly before.

Fortunately, this was only the beginning.

For the next few days, you traveled around Japan with your new puppy, iwaizumi named (y/n) Jr., went bungee jumping together, and tried delicacies in each town. you had the time of your life.

But fun had to end.

On the last day of your third week, you started to feel waves on waves of fatigue wash over you. You just wanted to rest with Iwaizumi but you felt like giving in was only admitting that you can't handle it anymore.

So you forced yourself to get up.

It was hard to hide things from iwaizumi. He was always perceptive, especially now. He was there to help you live.

He needed you to live. Because he knew that he wasn't anyone without you.

"you okay? We can rest today if you want." he asked worriedly, walking over and assisting you to a seat. He went into the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water.

"no, I'm fine." you replied, trying to reduce your shaking as you take the glass and chugged the water. You could only hope that your headache will subside soon. "do you have anything planned for today?" you asked, feigning cheerfulness. Iwaizumi glanced back at you worriedly before he sighed, flashing you a small smile.

"well, we have stargazing on your list so I was planning to do just that." Iwa sat next to you and stretched his arm over your shoulder. You giggled before you closed your eyes and nuzzled into him, wishing to store the last bit of your energy that you felt was seeping out at a rapid pace.

Iwaizumi could hope that it wasn't what he suspected. That you were just having an off-day. That you were okay, just like the last few weeks.

But that was all he could do. All he could do was hope.

The night air was colder than usual.

You pulled your thick cardigan closer to your chest and squeezed iwa's hand, hoping that his warmth would seep into you. Hajime looked back at you worriedly. "you okay? Dammit, we should've stayed home-"

"i'm fine, haji, it's just colder than usual." you lied, nudging him, telling him to keep walking.

You felt like you used up all of your energy climbing up the small hill where a picnic blanket was set-up on the very top, a small stereo playing Astronomy softly. You couldn't help but gasp in surprise. Maybe that wasn't a good idea, the lack of air in your lungs already making you dizzy. The gasp hid the shallowness of your breath from your already anxious boyfriend who helped you get settled on the blanket under the stars.

"just... Sit tight." iwaizumi took a deep breath before he stood in front of you, made a fist and pretended he was holding a mic as he sang along to Conan's soft voice.

"We've traveled the seas

We've ridden the stars

We've seen everything

From Saturn to Mars

As much as it seems

Like you own my heart

It's astronomy

We're two worlds apart"

He took your hand and pulled you up on your shaking feet. he got down on one knee then took out a velvet box. Your hands flew to your mouth. This can't be happening.

"(y/n), it might look like we don't have time but i know you can fight back and win. I can wait until then. So (y/n) (l/n), will you marry me?" he muttered to keep his voice from cracking. Your smile reached from ear to ear, nodding your head rapidly at a loss of words. Iwaizumi slipped the ring onto your finger and was about to pull you close into a hug when the unthinkable happened.

Your feet buckled under you, unable to support your weight anymore. Your breath was ragged and loud. You tried to suck in air to no avail. What was going on?

Your ears ring while black dots start to spread through your vision. The last thing you remembered was your now fiance's blurry figure in front of you, desperately trying to bring you back to him.

Cold. The cold just seeps into you, suffocates you until-

You woke up to the blinding lights of the hospital. Your tired eyes moved to observe the room. You felt someone squeezed your hand. You turned to see a sleepy iwaizumi slouched in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs, his hand gripping yours tightly. Hajime jolted awake the second you squeezed his hand back.

"(y/n)!" he exclaimed in relief, bringing his head down and kissing the ring on your finger repeatedly. Little droplets littered your hand. Iwaizumi was crying. "i-i thought i lost you... You wouldn't wake up for days a-and-" he sobbed. You pulled him into your chest, letting him nuzzle into your weak figure.

That small reassurance that you still had that small fight left in you helped iwaizumi sleep that night.

It was only the beginning of hell for you.

For the next few weeks, iwaizumi couldn't do anything but watch as your once strong figure rapidly grew weaker by the day. He had no idea had to stop it.

He needed a miracle.

He picked up his phone, dialed a certain number and waited for them to answer. If iwaizumi needed a miracle, this was the guy to call.

Another week went by, you were looking out your window in boredom when your hospital room door opened. thinking it was another nurse, you used all your strength to crane your neck to look at the person who entered. Your eyes lit up when you saw Iwaizumi enter with the Argentina setter, Oikawa.

"tooru!" you cheerfully yelled. Oikawa immediately rushed toward you. The man was about to pounce on you but iwa came to the rescue just in time and pulled the setter away from your bed.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, wiping away the stray happy tears that accumulated in the corners of your eyes.

"simple!" oikawa said as he skipped back to the door and opened it to reveal matsukawa and hanamaki with an officiant. "i decided to provide a little bit of a miracle." You turned to iwaizumi who glowed pink beside you. Was this really happening?

Your little "ceremony" flew by too quickly for your liking. You wished you could just cherish this moment forever. How all of the former members of the volleyball team came in and gave their congratulations and told little anecdotes they remember about the early stages of your relationship, like the time hajime almost beaten up oikawa for flirting with you in high school or how iwaizumi accidentally hit you with his spike when he was staring a second too long.

The noise slowly died down to the beeps of your heart monitor connected to you. Iwaizumi sat beside you and kissed your hand once more. "we're officially married now." he whispered, not wanting to break the soft ambience of the room.

"yeah..." you leaned back weakly in your bed. A wave of fatigue suddenly hit you. Maybe it was because of the eventful day you've had.

"You gotta live through this if you want to enjoy our honeymoon." he joked, causing you to let you a soft giggle.

"i love you, haj."

"i love you too, baby..."

"We have a code blue!"

Iwaizumi shot out of his seat to be met by a slew of nurses bursting into your room. His eyes snapped toward your limp figure. No. Nonono. This cannot be happening. You were okay. You were laughing along with everyone. You were joking around. You promised to live, to be strong.

Why? Why did you let go now?

"sir, Please step outside of the room." a nurse said to him, hauling the trainer out the door and into the hallway. Iwaizumi dropped into one of the empty seats outside, burying his head in his hands. He prayed to every god he could think of, to spare your life.

But unfortunately, his prayers weren't answered.

When the doctor came out of your room with a somber look on his face. He already knew what happened. His tears silently flowed down his cheeks as his brain blocked out the doctor's voice, ringing growing louder and louder.

There was only one festering thought in his mind now and it was growing bigger the longer he stayed in that hallway. It kept nipping at him when he went back into the room to see your now lifeless body.

You were gone and he will never see you wake up again.

It all moved like a blur to hajime. Your family was as equally as distraught as he was. They offered their support to which Iwaizumi refused to take. At night he would imagine that you would come bursting into the room and cuddle with you and every time, he would feel tears prick his eyes when he would remember that it didn’t work like that.

The funeral wasn’t any better. Iwaizumi would acknowledge the typical condolence message here and there. He went out of his way to make his eulogy speech a bit more personal for your grieving family members and friends. He couldn’t stop his sobs when he watched as your casket got lowered into your final resting place. The pain felt unbearable.

He stood in front of your new and clean tombstone, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he held (y/n) jr. In his other hand. He let out a shaky smile, the smile he usually reserved for you. He was going to miss you.

"don't worry love, we'll meet again." he whispered hoping you would hear him one last time. It was going to be hard to move on but he’s going to do everything in his power to pull himself back up and come to terms with reality and maybe to keep your memory alive.

And that's all! This was a real whirlwind and I didn't really anticipate it being this long! Hope you guys enjoyed this! Thanks for @tetsunormous for getting mad at me for spamming and beta reading! Requests are open so please don't be shy to leave anything in my inbox! Love you guys 💖💕❤️

General taglist (don’t be shy to comment your tumblr @ below): @tokyoghoose @macaronnv @reogou @midnightangelfox @wumboho @seiijixcia

[carnelianns]

(Ikesen and Ikevamp) Sorry if this has been asked before. But how about an MC who went back to her own time only to find out she was pregnant. How would the boys reaxt if she comes back somehow a few years later but with a young child she says is theirs.

im sorry for keeping u waiting this long anon huhu,, i only did the vamps but, if my askbox allows, i’ll come back to do the sen boys too ! i didn’t have a specific gender for their children so jus imagine the lil rascal any way u want

Napoleon Bonaparte

When you come back through that door with a fascinated child holding your hand, it’s him you meet first again, and the tears are already glossing his eyes over before you can say anything.

He literally has no words when you smile gently, saying it’s his. Napoleon swallows the bump in his throat before making his way to the both of you, holding the two of you in his arms for only god knows how long.

“I.. can’t wait to live my life with you both, nununche,” he mumbles into your hair, ears slightly tinged, only causing you to laugh at his adorable antics.

As a father, he isn’t very strict, and he isn’t all that good in child-rearing, either. But he tries — you have to keep reminding yourself of this when you catch them in a compromising position, usually when you see your child holding a foil with a goofy smile.

“Nunuche.. I can explain,” Napoleon says calmly when you first find the two of them — well, three; it seems Jean was in on this little practice, though he quickly bolted when he saw you — parading around the training room with the foils.

“Mamma, papa said he was the King! He teached me how to be King!” Your child exclaims, flailing the weapon around excitedly as your gaze only darkens.

“Well, you see, I meant emperor, but—” his words die down when he sees your unimpressed face practically dripping with the murderous intent he’s so used to fighting against on the battle field

Slowly kneeling down to meet your child’s eyes, you see him whispering something incoherent before the little one nods seriously, slowly putting down the foil.

Then, as if counting down ‘3, 2, 1′, Napoleon immediately hoists your child up in his arms, running out of the room as both his laughter and your child’s squeals echo throughout the halls.

“Napoleone di Buonaparte, get your ass back here right now!” You scream, running after them.

“3, 2, 1 — Vive L’Empereur!” The two of them scream back, before bursting into laughter. They’re always in sync. It’s exasperating.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

“That child is.. mine?” He asks, slightly jaw-slacked, pointing at the child that undeniably looks like him, if the identical beauty mark or violet eyes are anything to go by.

“Do you.. not want—”

“I never said that,” he instantly cuts you off, going over to kneel at the confused child. With a slight smile, in an attempt to hold his tears back, he manages, “So.. how was spending time with that clumsy mother of yours?”

Mozart doesn’t really know how to spend time with his child, though he’s clearly not opposed to carrying the little rascal around on his shoulders, or dragging the child clinging onto his leg around when stubbornness bites.

You often don’t know what he’s thinking whenever he spends time with your child, or the whole situation, but rest assured, he wouldn’t change it for the world, despite how he may look.

A clear example of this is when you once walked into the piano room only to see your little darling on top of the grand white piano itself, snoozing on top of a small comforter whilst your lover plays the soft tunes you’ve grown to love.

Shock holds you captive as you stare at the lovely sight, before finally trailing off, “Mozart..”

Without so much as glancing at you, he replies, voice hushed in a soft tone you don’t hear so often. The blissful smile on his face speaks thousands of words.

“I thought you were the only one foolish enough to let your guard down in front of me… It seems I was wrong.”

Leonardo da Vinci

He had an inkling the moment he saw the child sporting caramel eyes so similar to his own, tawny gaze regarding the large mansion with wonder.

And when you did reveal that the child is actually his, he only pulled you close to his chest, hoisting the little one up with his other arm.

“Papa has a lot of time to make up to you, doesn’t he?”

Leonardo is good with children, if it isn’t obvious. Not in your conventional dad way wherein he brings the child to school — in fact, he probably fell asleep in the hallway just when the two were about to leave — but he's awfully good at keeping his child entertained.

Running around the mansions, creating new inventions, learning a new language — sometimes, you have to remind yourself that this child’s father is literally Leonardo da Vinci.

A position you often see them in, however, is snoozing on the floor, probably near the library, your child a small ball curled into Leonardo’s arms and head in the crook of his neck.

“Again? Really?” You can only huff, though that doesn’t stop the small smile from spreading on your face as you brush the locks of hair out of your lover’s face.

“Cara mia,” he rasps out, cracking a bleary eye open and gripping your wrist softly. Then, he smiles, all sorts of soft and lovely and.. unguarded.

“You two.. are the best things that have happened to me.”

Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur tries swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees you standing in front of that damned door, though to no avail as a tear slips.

He starts full-on crying when you say that you’re back for good and that the child is his, and he’ll have to be comforted by yours and your child’s tiny arms before he even plans to stop.

“Ah, crying like that on our first meeting… Don’t you think your fath — I’m a bit embarrassing?” He asks, sniffling as he musters a smile.

Your child giggles, blue eyes crinkling. “No! Mommy told me a whooooole lot about you, daddy!”

He has to stop himself from sobbing again.

Arthur wastes no time in making up for what he’s missed, and every single day is one you’d find the two of them either in town or messing about at home.

If not, then they’re probably just chilling in the comforts of his room, doing god knows what. The day you peek in to see what exactly they were up to was a blessed day.

Maneuvering yourself in a way that lets you see through the tiny crack of the open door, your jaw drops at the adorable sight of your child in a tiny deerstalker and trench coat far too big for his form, Arthur nodding with a serious look on his face.

“So, Watson, do you think crepes make mummy happier?” Your child asks, holding his magnifying glass up — one you’re sure is from Leonardo — like a mic in front of Arthur’s face.

He strokes his chin for a moment, before answering, “Seeing her reaction when we gave her the ones we bought yesterday, I deduce they do, Sherlock.”

“Good dedoo – deduck – deduction, Watson! I thought so too.”

Your heart literally melts. The two are far too cute for you, you having to calm yourself before walking in with the widest smile on your face. Dorks. 

Vincent van Gogh

When you meet those familiar, cerulean eyes from your place in front of the door, they’re already glossy in seconds, a flurry of emotions clear on Vincent’s face, though his smile says it all.

“Is it too much to say I’ve been waiting for you this whole time?”

Vincent would be practically wallowing in regret that he wasn’t able to be a part of his child’s life for the first few years, leading him to do any and everything that will cause his child to smile. In simpler terms, he’s basically wrapped around the little one’s finger.

He’s so adorable and happy that he’s blessed with your lovely child, and there’s an immediate smile on his face when he so much as thinks about the little blondie.

He literally makes the other residents question whether or not they want a child too.

Their bonding time is painting and, more often than not, it ends up with all three of you cramped in the shower, scrubbing furiously at the sticky paint on their skin.

“I’m sorry for having you do this all the time,” Vincent’s soft voice only makes you sigh in relaxation as he massages your shoulders from behind you, causing your fingers to halt in their journey of rubbing some blue paint off your child.

“It’ll take more than that if you wanna make it up to me,” you hum, leaning back into his chest and looking up into his bright eyes.

Your lips were just about to meet, when —

“Mam, I’m not clean yet!”

You groan, Vincent only laughing as you meet the crossed arms of your child pouting child.

“Don’t give your mammie too much of a hard time, okay?” He never forgets to take care of you above all, of course.

Theodorus van Gogh

When he first sees you after years with a child, his child, grasping your hand, Theo has to literally disappear to cool his head off because he’s angry.

Not at you, no, never, but at himself. That he wasn’t there for his child, for you, and god, even if he were, would he have been a good father?

“Hon — Schatje,” he starts, running his fingers through his already messy hair and staring at you with eyes that practically bleed insecurity, his voice breaking. “How am I supposed to take care of a child when I couldn’t even take care of you?”

After many reassuring words and gentle touches, Theo’s finally okay, holding up and scrutinising your child much like how he does a painting. He’s, well, awkward.

Theo is surprisingly very gentle with your child because he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

He’s also very grounded and doesn’t fall for cute little tricks that much either, so out of the residents, he’d be one of the better fathers.

“Nee.” “Papje, pleaaase?” “No. Non. Nee.”

Your lover’s fixed refusal causes you to peek your head into a lovely picture. Theo was holding a chocolate bar high above his head, steely gaze fixed on your young child with his puppy dog eyes in full view.

“Je mama said no chocolate, right?” Your heart warms when you realise he remembered your scoldings, though you can’t help but to feel bad for your whining baby.

“Theo,” you say, both their heads turning towards you. “How about you give the little baby some chocolate and we all enjoy some pancakes, yeah?”

The way both their eyes shine almost identically is adorable.

Dazai Osamu

When you showed up again with the child in hand, one he knows is his, his first thought, first wish, is that for that tiny thing to not be his. Because no one knows how harsh this world is more than the man who wished to end it all, so much more than once.

But Dazai makes up his mind when he sees you and your — his child staring up at him with those eyes that look so much like your own. He makes up his mind, despite his own continuous suffering, that he’ll never let this child go through what he had to.

“Was I staring too much?” He smiles, slightly sad and, well, empty. “I suppose it’s because the little one looks far too much like you.” Bright. Too bright for me.

As a father, he’s surprisingly really good with children? He quite enjoys seeing your child smile more than anything, and one way he knows how to do so is by perching the little one on his shoulders, running around the mansion as his hands intertwine with small, tiny fingers.

You don’t know whether to yell at him and his close-eyed grin, or simply laugh at the resonating giggles of your child. Probably both as you chase the two down the halls.

Dazai often zones out whenever he’s playing with your child, a look you can only describe as pure bliss on those handsome features of his. As you stare up at him, confusion clear on your features, you ask, “Hey, Dazai, why do you.. Zone out so much? Whenever you’re with, you know,” you motion to the snoozing one in between the both of you.

“Why do I zone out, you ask?” He gives you a smile, a real one this time, and gently pokes at the little ones cheeks. “I think.. I’ve found a wonderful reason to live, is all.”

Isaac Newton

“That’s… mine??” “That?” “... It?” “It?” “The.. child?”

Isaac is very flustered, for lack of better terms. He can barely manage the children he and Napoleon go see intermittently, but his own child? Lord, help him.

He gets awfully flushed whenever he’s carrying his child around the mansion because even then, he isn’t spared by Arthur and Dazai’s teasing remarks — in fact, it only seems to have gotten worse.

Isaac is surprisingly good at getting your rascal child to sleep with his bedtime stories, which are usually all his unsaid rambles.

“And did daddy get that bruise on his forehead because he slipped while chasing Uncle Dazai and Uncle Arthur?”

Your child nods, bright eyes sparkling and toothy grin showing. “Daddy also said, ‘Get back here, you devilish imbeciles!’”

Your accusatory gaze turns towards Isaac, who averts his eyes, holding an ice pack to his bruising forehead.

“I-In my defense, they were—”

“One more time, Isaac, and I’m changing this baby’s legal godfathers to the two imbeciles you love so much.”

Gaping, his eyes widen to the size of saucers, “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

He is now a grumbling mess when the two are around his child, but the lack of chasing them around with a stick in hand can be counted as an upgrade.

Jean d’Arc

When you walk through that door once more, nervously telling your lover that this child is his, you’re afraid of his reaction — after all, Jean is, despite his vampiric aging, barely an adult himself.

His jaw drops and he can’t stop staring at you nor the child with his inky locks, and you have to help him sit and calm down.

“Papa?” Your child asks, staring up at the still slightly panicked Jean as you hold your breath.

He stares for a moment, mouth wide, before finally, finally smiling, albeit a little awkward and rough around the edges. “Yes, little one?”

He’s extremely unaccustomed to this whole parent thing and can barely do anything without asking you first, so he feels bad quite often for having to lean on you so much.

Although he barely knows how to handle a sobbing child, nor can he entertain the child very well, you find that the both of them are quite content in each other’s presence as is.

Jean, well, looks ethereal as the sun shines through the windows in his room, a gentle smile gracing his face as he stares at his sleeping child.

He utters your name, causing you to look up, only to find him tracing circles around your child’s soft skin.

“Is this.. how it’s like to be happy?”

William Shakespeare

When Shakespeare wakes up to the news that you are, in fact, back at the mansion with a little surprise, he’s already there in no time.

He didn’t expect the little surprise to be a little child that’s practically an identical copy of him. But he’s always been more of a shoot first, ask questions later type of guy, so he immediately whisks you off to his manor, much to the exasperation of the residents who were surprisingly enjoying their time with the little Shakespeare lookalike.

Except he doesn’t really need to ask questions, because he’s already figured everything out through your soft, slightly nervous gaze, and your lovely little mannerisms.

“Alas, it seems the Heavens were kind enough to grant my wish,” he says as he stares at your child, only smiling to meet your confused gaze. “For I only wished you weren’t too lonely without my presence.”

William is always with his child, whatever the circumstances. Though he quite enjoys showing off his child, he’s also keen on spending his every waking second with the little tyke because he knows how it feels like to grow up lonely, and he wouldn't bestow that upon his own little one.

“Darling, it appears I has’t gotten myself into a slight predicament.”

If you could, you would have snapped a picture of your smiling lover practically itching to get up, yet unable to do so due to the sleeping child in his lap.

“And how did you get yourself into this predicament, my love?” You tease, your own smile on your face. He has a habit of reading his writings aloud, and it seems the little one fell asleep to William’s gentle voice.

“My works seem to be but a mere bedtime story to this little one,” he motions to the child, his smile softening. “I wonder why it does not dishearten me.”

Comte de Saint-Germain

“I was hoping you’d be back, ma chérie.” His perfunctory smile betrays the inner flurry of emotions inside him as he glances towards the child. “With a lovely little thing in hand.”

“Your lovely little thing,” you say gently, and the surprise outlining his normally composed face is something you’d forever save in your mind.

Comte is wrapped around the little one’s finger, his rotten spoiling being the effect of not being in your child’s life for a good while, and, of course, his indispensable regret for having you come back to him.

Many times have you asked Sebastian the whereabouts of your lover and your child, only for him to give you the look, responding that they were out yet again, and are probably not coming back without a few shopping bags in hand.

Then, to finally put a stop to it all, you decided to conduct a harmless experiment.

Placing a few coins on one side of his desk, a toy in the middle, and a beloved fruit on the side. After explaining to him that it’s to see what your child’s fate would be — picking between fortune, fun, and, well, snacks, you think — he simply leans back, interest shining in those eyes of his.

Unsurprisingly for you, your child pushes all these away in a second, opting to hug the wide-eyed man on the soft armchair behind the desk.

“And what.. does this mean, ma chérie?” He asks, honest-to-god confused as his hands slowly wrap around your child’s form.

You smile softly, “Isn’t it obvious, silly? The little rascal loves you more than anything.”

His eyes are suspiciously glossy before he laughs it off, preparing for yet another shopping spree — you regret everything.

Sebastian

He only gives you a knowing smile when you pass through the door with a young child gripping your hand.

“So.. this is the little one, is it?” He asks, tone soft as he walks towards you, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and meeting eyes with his child. “I’m a strict father, mind you.”

“Sebastian!” “I was joking. Slightly.”

Despite being a father, Sebastian is as strict and precise as ever around the mansion, rarely having to leave either his work or his family unattended due to his impeccable time management skills.

And if he struggles with both, well, he just has to merge them into one task, doesn’t he? Many are the times wherein the residents catch Sebastian working, his little runt on his tail or on his hip.

“They’re at it again, you know,” Mozart says in passing, only causing you to groan.

“Sebastian! How many times have I told you not in the kitchen?” You exclaim, walking into the kitchen to find your lover and your child tackling yet another chore together.

It seemed to be baking this time, if the flour on both of their faces says anything.

“Mama!” Your child exclaims with powdered hands as Sebastian says blankly, “We’re doing chores.”

You merely roll your eyes, sighing as you walk out the room. Your apology comes later when a sloppy cupcake makes its way into your view.

Your eyes move up to your proud looking child, hair obviously patted down in an attempt to look presentable while your lover sports a tiny grin on his own face.

“We made this for you, mom! Papa said he wanted to make you reaaaally happy.”

Sebastian’s head instantly snaps down, eyes narrowing, “Hey.”

You can only laugh at your two babies, taking a bite of the surprisingly good and sweeter than an average cupcake.

[morningfears]

This is Now

Rating: PG-13 (partying, drinking, weed a few mentions of anxiety)

Summary: Inspired by Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray. Set in 2015. Calum has leaned into the party scene just a little too heavily. He’s no longer the boy that you fell in love with and you’re tried of the rollercoaster of emotions.

Word Count: 4.3k

2015

The house at the top of the hill was fully illuminated, windows glowing with multicolored lights disturbed only by the silhouettes of partygoers passing by, and seemed to glow even brighter in contrast to the darkness that surrounded it. You could already feel the bass reverberating through your body the moment your feet touched the ground and it made you bite back a heavy sigh as you shut the car door behind you.

You stared up at the house, one you’d never been to but still caused a dreadful feeling of deja vu to wash over you, with parted lips in a vain attempt to keep yourself from frowning. You could barely hear the sound of the driver’s side door shutting over the noise, even from your parking spot near the street, and you felt a headache beginning to form behind your eyes as you waited for Calum to round the vehicle and grab your hand.

This was routine now, a typical night in your life, but you desperately wished it wasn’t. You could think of a million places that you’d rather be, none of which were located in the Hollywood Hills. The thought of attending another party, while it had all seemed so glamorous and fun at first, now made you feel sick.

“You okay?”

Calum’s voice cut through the mild nausea that churned in the pit of your stomach and you nodded, swallowing back the words that threatened to spill past your lips like bile. “Yeah,” you said, instead of what you truly wanted to say, “I’m good.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes as you lied to him, your words barely audible over the noise. You didn’t even bother to force a smile this time. It wasn’t as if he was really looking at you, anyway. 

In the beginning of your relationship, back when this was all so new and date night meant burgers and fries and cheesy movies you didn’t actually watch, he would’ve pressed. He would’ve admitted that he knew you were lying and brought a hand to cup your cheek, palm warm against your skin, to encourage you to look him in the eye. He would’ve asked what was bothering you, what he could do to make it better. He would’ve poked your sides, desperate to get a genuine smile to your lips instead of the frown that had seemingly become permanent. He would’ve been earnest, sweet, loving.

But that was then and this is now.

Now, Calum didn’t press. He didn’t ask if you were sure. He didn’t ask if you wanted to leave the party and go get ice cream. Instead, he nodded, satisfied with your lack of protest, and leaned in with the intent to press a kiss to your lips. Before he could, you turned your head and mumbled, “Cigarette breath,” as his lips pressed to your cheek.

He rolled his eyes, no longer amused by your protests when he smoked, but took your hand in his to guide you up the path to the party that awaited you both.

You sometimes forgot that you’d encouraged it at first. That, once upon a time, this had all been fun. It was novel, exciting, something new.

But that was then.

You were both barely eighteen when you met, only months apart in age, and it was like something out of a daydream. You and Calum were both brand new to life without parents controlling your every move and even newer to life in a city like Los Angeles. You were a college student, looking to get a degree and a job, while he was a budding rockstar, looking to make a name for himself.

You were worlds apart, connected only by your age and your schoolyard crushes on one another, but that hadn’t stopped either of you in the slightest.

Your meeting was by chance, a happy accident that made you think the universe was finally giving you what you wanted - if only just this once - and you’d never actually tell him but you still had the t-shirt he ruined, coffee stains and all, buried in the back of your closet. He had been sweet, sincere and soft as he apologized with red cheeks and rushed words. His eyes had burned into yours, earnest and shining with the promise of a beautiful future, as he ignored his friends, all of whom were laughing at him, to help you clean coffee from your arms.

It was something out of a movie, cheesy and cute, but it had been the start of something beautiful.

Your dates were casual, something your mother would’ve deemed appropriate for your age but your friends teased you for, and you managed to avoid being spotted by fans and the few photographers that knew his name. You went for walks, to movies, bowling, for ice cream whenever he was in town and you weren’t drowning in homework.

It was easy, the kind of first love you’d always hoped you’d have, until things changed.

You didn’t begrudge the boys their success. You, like their friends and families, were firmly in their corner and cheered for them every step of the way. They deserved what they got, what they worked so hard for, and you were there to congratulate them on each win.

You know now that you’d been naive, desperately clinging to the notion that everything would remain the same even as their fanbase and name recognition grew larger and larger. It had been stupid of you to think that there wouldn’t be at least a few changes but you did your best to embrace them, glad that Calum was bringing you along for the ride when he could’ve easily left you in the dust.

The boys weren’t the most social when you first met, content with keeping to themselves in the house that they were renting. They didn’t have friends in LA, unsure if they’d be there long enough or fit in well enough to venture outside their own comfort zone, but that seemed to change faster than anything else as the success became more apparent.

They were, like you had been, unused to being the center of attention. It was strange, finding strangers that wanted to spend time with them - even if you know now that it was only because of what they could offer said strangers - but it happened suddenly. If they weren’t being invited to a dinner, it was to a club, and if not a club, a house party. They were hesitant at first, unsteady in a new environment, but they quickly fell into the new life they were living.

They took to it easily, happily, and, like the other changes before this one, Calum made sure you were by his side for it all.

You enjoyed it all at first. Partying with celebrities - even if they were B-List and desperate for a few paparazzi photos to get a little publicity - was an experience you never thought you’d have. It was thrilling, almost overwhelming, but you enjoyed the excuse to get dressed up on the weekend and spend the night dancing with Calum.

It was an occasional thing, once or twice a month, with plenty of dates interspersed to keep you and Calum happy with the amount of time you actually got to spend together without the interruption of strangers. He still practically lived in your dorm, a fixture so common that none of your hall mates even blinked at his presence, and you still felt a thrill whenever he took you home after a party and kissed you in front seat of his car. 

But then the parties grew more frequent and the dates in between them grew fewer and farther between.

At first, you found yourself willing to do whatever was necessary to keep Calum happy. He was stressed, you understood that, and if letting off a little steam at a party helped him wind down, you wouldn’t begrudge him that. But it was as if your sweet boyfriend had disappeared and been replaced by someone you didn’t even know.

You were both only nineteen, on the cusp of adulthood, but he was acting twenty-five and rushing his life away. 

He called things you both loved, dates you’d once adored, childish and scoffed at the notion of going bowling or to see a movie. He started smoking, the cigarettes a permanent fixture in the pocket of his ripped jeans, and rolled his eyes when you told him that they’d wreck his voice. He was obsessed with fitting in, with being a part of a life he’d once made fun of, and making stupid decisions that worried you.

You could see through him. You could see that he was still the same insecure, eager nineteen year old that you knew, but he put on a brave face and wore a proud mask as he mingled with the crowd.

You’d spent months begging him to take a few nights away from the party scene, to sober up and go camping with you or to Disney for a weekend. You complained that the parties were shit, that they were nothing compared to the ones you used to go to, and he’d told you to stop complaining or stop accompanying him on nights out.

The harshness of his words, the way he’d refused to even listen to your desire, had you on edge. It had only been a week, seven days since the first real fight you’d ever had, and the ground felt shaky beneath your feet as you followed him into yet another party. You wished, desperately, that he’d end the night early and sober. You wished that he’d take you home and wrap you in his arms, face buried in your neck and hands tracing patterns over your skin as you talked about nothing and everything.

But you knew that that wasn’t going to happen.

Because that was then and this is now.

You felt exhausted, tired of the rollercoaster of emotions he’d put you through in only a matter of months, and refused as a man you didn’t know but Calum seemed to offered you a drink.

“This party’s shit.”

Calum’s words cut through the din surrounding you, his tone annoyed and his shoulders slumped. He’d blown off a different party with the boys for this one and it seemed to be far less exciting than he was promised now that you were actually inside. You agreed with his sentiment but you didn’t want to make matters worse by asking him to leave.

So instead of agreeing, instead of asking him to take you home, you shrugged and took a cursory glance around the room.

Strangers were packed together, bodies moving off beat as the music streamed through speakers scattered around the room. The lights pulsed, even more off beat than the dancers, and the flashing made you nauseous as blue light washed over a sea of seemingly identical faces. The entire house reeked of weed, the scent strong and off-putting, and you fought the urge to cover your nose as you took measured breaths in an attempt to acclimate yourself.

Calum was right; this party was shit.

As was becoming standard routine for the both of you, the fact that the party was substandard  and neither of you particularly liked - or really knew - anyone lingering about the room didn’t deter Calum from grabbing a drink and falling into a conversation.

He was attentive, his eyes on the man who’d attempted to hand you a drink, as his arm settled over your shoulders. You felt like a piece of furniture, a fixture for him to rest on rather than a figure for him to pay attention to, and fought the overwhelming urge to throw his arm off of you and climb out the open window in the corner. It wasn’t the most practical option - the front door was right there and stood wide open - but you imagined Calum wouldn’t notice if you slipped out the window.

Though part of you, the more cynical part that had seemingly taken over during the course of the week, wondered if he’d even noticed if you walked straight out the front door. And if he did, would he care?

You knew that you weren’t being fair because, at the end of the day, he wasn’t holding you here. You could leave, walk away from the rollercoaster of emotions he’d put you on. You could walk away from a lot of things in your life, even. You could request an extension from a professor without upsetting the rest of the class. You could skip a class and not delay anyone else’s education. 

You were free to do as you pleased, to move as you wished, and you were the only one that would have to face the consequences. Calum, on the other hand, couldn’t. He had the boys to worry about, the fans, his family; anything he did could cause a domino effect and you understood that he was simply looking for something he could control.

But rationality did little to alleviate the nausea churning in the pit of your stomach.

You were afraid that if you stood in the corner, surrounded by the scent of weed and alcohol and too much perfume, you’d say something that you’d regret. You were afraid that you’d start crying or, worse, vomit on Calum’s shoes. So you took a deep breath and nudged Calum’s side. “I’m going to find the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

Calum barely acknowledged your words - and you were grateful this time, glad that he couldn’t hear the wobble in your voice, or, at least, hadn’t seemed to notice. He pressed a quick peck to your temple, his eyes never leaving your companion, before his arm fell from your shoulders to rest at his side. 

You left him there, amid the crowd, and ascended the stairs two at a time.

Your breathing was growing shallow, harder to control, as you realized that there were still little things about Calum that remained just as you’d always known them. There were still glimpses of the boy you’d fallen in love with but that was all they were, small fragments of the past that no longer seemed to matter.

Some of the things about him still made your heart race, despite not knowing where you really stood anymore or how you really felt about the person he was becoming. The way that he was still physically affectionate, his arm around your shoulders or waist at any chance he got, and the way that he didn’t mind being in photos together so long as he could half-hide himself behind you and press his face into your neck. He still kissed you goodnight in the front seat of his car, one hand on your thigh and the other on your cheek. He still pressed his lips to your temple or forehead, a soft pressure that bid you goodbye when he didn’t want to say the words.

But part of you wondered if that was because it was comfortable, muscle memory at this point. 

Your lungs burned with the effort it took to breathe as you slipped into an empty bedroom and shut the door behind you. You slid down the door and sat there, back pressed against the hardwood, as you willed yourself not to cry. With your knees pressed to your chest, your arms wrapped around them, you reflected on the state of your relationship.

It hurt, thinking that Calum was just going through the motions rather than actively playing a part in your relationship as he once had, but when he spent more of his time with strangers - a cup in one hand and a cigarette between his lips - than he did with you, it was bound to happen.

Sure, you were by his side most nights. You never had to wonder if he was sleeping with someone else or if he was actually out getting wasted - you saw it for yourself, nearly every night - but there was little solace in that. You were like a favorite accessory or a piece of clothing tugged on for comfort, maybe just out of habit. You no longer seemed to play an active role in Calum’s life and you found that you were just as guilty as he was of going through the motions.

Your boyfriend was disappearing before your very eyes and you were just watching him go.

You sat there, back aching as you remained hunched against the door, for far too long. Your eyes remained trained on the hardwood floor beneath you as you thought through everything you hadn’t allowed yourself time to consider. It was hard, reflecting on what had gone wrong and how you’d contributed to it just as much as he had, but it had to be done.

You couldn’t take it anymore, sitting on a rollercoaster of emotions wondering when things would derail or if you’d ever get a chance to get off.

The last thing you wanted to do was leave Calum - you loved him; that much you knew for certain - but you couldn’t seem to find any alternatives. He didn’t seem to be interested in hearing what you had to say, in understanding what you were feeling, or playing an active part in the relationship anymore. He wasn’t ready to move on, to return to some semblance of balance, but you were.

You felt lighter, the weight of the world no longer seemed to be sitting on your shoulders, as you stepped back into reality. A wall of noise hit you as you descended the stairs but you didn’t mind it. You were resolved, steeled to do what needed to be done, and only hoped that Calum wouldn’t wish you ill because of it.

You hoped that one day he’d be able to look back and realize he’d gotten swept away in it all. You hoped that he’d be able to realize that you’d done what you had to. You hoped that he’d live to see that day, at least.

You floated the idea of just leaving, of disappearing without another word and crawling out a window into the night air, but you knew that you couldn’t. He deserved a proper goodbye, even if you didn’t feel strong enough to give it.

You waited at the edge of the living room, your arms folded over your chest, and watched as Calum traded drinks with a girl that neither of you knew. A month ago, you would’ve chastised him. You would’ve told him that he shouldn’t take drinks from strangers but you knew that it would fall on uncaring ears.

So, this time you said nothing. You crossed the living room and settled against his side, holding yourself silent and stead as his arm curled around your waist.

“Get lost?”

His words were slurred, his accent almost impossible to understand, but you’d expected that. You wished he was sober, that he would’ve taken the night off and at least paced himself, but that never seemed to happen anymore. He had a half smile on his lips, looking plenty amused with his on joke, and you bit back a heavy sigh as you shook your head. “There was a line.”

He didn’t question it, didn’t seem to ponder what line would’ve taken hours, and nodded. He was far enough gone to not realize how much time had passed and you were thankful for that as you watched him sway to some awful pop remix that you were sure he’d laughed at in the past. You moved a little closer to him, soaking in the last moments you’d spend with his arms wrapped around you, and waited for the right time to ask him to leave.

Calum, however, beat you to the punch. Before you could even begin to think about phrasing your request, he shoved his keys into your hands. “Wanna take me home?”

You were grateful that even in his altered state, he knew better than to get behind the wheel. You took the keys from him, nodded, and sighed as he pressed a kiss to your cheek before turning his attention to the people you’d spent your night with. It was barely coherent goodnight, the words seeming to get stuck in his throat, but they were far enough gone that nothing seemed amiss. They returned the gesture, even bidding you a goodnight, before their focus returned to the last of the liquor.

Getting Calum into the car was always a challenge. Sometimes, you could count on the guys for help. Even drunk, they seemed to be able to handle dragging Calum to the front seat before settling into the back themselves. Alone, it seemed an impossible task. You were sure that anyone watching would assume you were just as drunk as Calum as you stumbled down the driveway, his arm around your waist and a cigarette in his free hand, but this was just another piece of your nightly routine.

Time seemed to pass in a blur as you drove him home. There was silence, neither of you reached to turn on the radio, and neither of you seemed to notice. Calum chain smoked, one cigarette after another disappearing into the night, and you did your best to breathe only when there was a moment without nicotine swirling through the front seat.

You reached his house far quicker than you thought you would, a little disappointed that this chapter of your life was now so close to being over. You weren’t sure that he’d remember this in the morning, you weren’t sure if you’d have to go through it all again tomorrow when he was hungover and annoyed at the world just for existing, but you hoped it’d be easier the second time.

As you put the car into park, Calum turned his head to face you. He flicked his cigarette out the window and unbuckled his seatbelt before leaning over and brushing his fingers over your cheek. “You look nice tonight. I don’t think I told you that.”

He hadn’t and you’d have been lying if you said his words didn’t make your heart ache.

It was always like this. The drunker he got, the sweeter he got. His words, soft and slurred, reminded you of the boy you fell for and you felt your resolve cracking. It was harder than you imagined, leaving when he was looking at you like you were the one who hung the moon and the stars, but it had to be done.

“I love you.”

It was the first time he’d said the words in weeks, the same three words that made your knees weak and your heart pound dripping like honey past his lips. They were the clearest words he’d spoken in hours, as if he knew they were what you needed to hear, and you offered him a watery smile. “I know.”

He returned it with half-lidded eyes and leaned over the console to press his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, a whisper amidst the raging chaos of your internal dialogue, but it felt like you were burning alive. He touched you as if you were made of glass, fragile and liable to break at any moment, but the damage was done. You knew this wouldn’t last, it was a fleeting moment of the past.

A few months ago, you would’ve told yourself that Calum was still the same boy you fell in love with. But that was then and this is now.

He broke the kiss first to press his forehead to yours. His eyes remained closed, his breathing ragged and his cheeks tinted pink, as yours opened and you committed his face to memory. You wanted to remember him as he was, the good-hearted boy who’d shown you more about love than you ever imagined he would. His smile, his eyes, the way he kissed you; they were the good things, the things that made you wish you could just stop thinking and fall into his arms.

But the scent of cheap beer and cigarettes rolling off him in waves, those were the bad things. They were the things that made you wish he was sober and realize that you needed to leave before it was too late.

“Come on. It’s late, you should get to bed.”

Calum was quiet as you helped him out of the car. He didn’t say a word as you unlocked the door, only stopping you to press another kiss to your lips after you turned the key. “Stay with me,” he whispered, his eyes focused on you as he lingered in the threshold.

“I can’t.”

He was drunk, swaying on his feet, but he knew you well enough to know that you weren’t just talking about spending the night. “This is it?”

“Yeah, Cal. This is it. I’m sorry.”

“I know. Me, too.” He paused, his eyes focused on your face and shining with unshed tears, before he added, “I wish you’d stay.”

You offered him a wry smile, one hand reaching out to brush his cheek. “And I wish you were sober. I’ll see you around, Calum.”

He made no move to reply, his words dying on his lips as he watched you disappear down the sidewalk. You could feel his eyes on your back, his stare burning your skin, until you rounded a corner and felt like you were able to breathe once more. Without the weight of his gaze on your skin, you gripped a lamppost and attempted to catch your breath.

It was over; you’d gotten off the rollercoaster. But you left behind the boy you loved.

Once upon a time, you’d have never left him behind. But that was then.

And this is now.

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Author’s Note: Hey-o. I haven’t written shit in, like, months. I’ve been so burnt out and depressed and panicky but, well, I’ve wanted to write this since maybe March? So, here you go. I hope you like it. Likes and reblogs and comments make a writer happy. Also very weird to think that Cal and I were 19 in 2015. Fuck, it’s been a long ass 5 years.