#honestly? better formatted if u read on ao3

[starry-snippets]

Captivate you. (band au! aot)

chapter 1 of the aot band au! also on ao3 if you want to read it there! I include song links here on tumblr but not on ao3. I think it's more immersive w this format... but that's just me!

chapter tws include floch being an asshole, implied/speculated toxic relationship, provocative music, suggestive/adult themes, one line about connie's junk

Chapter 1: Cruel Summer

The music in his car is always so loud. Typically you don’t mind but you’re already feeling a tension headache developing between your temples. As if stretching a rubber band in your brain isn’t painful enough, Floch decides to snap it against your head as he yells, “Babe, get out! We’re here.” At least the Britney Spears song, I’m a Slave 4 U, stops playing. Not that you don’t like Britney. You just don’t like Britney when she’s blasting at full volume in your boyfriend kia stinger.

As you step away from the red car, paint chips peeling off the car door, you have to race to catch up with Floch. His music is playing so loudly you can hear it even though his earbuds are snug in his ear. Now he’s listening to Ride by Sir Mix-A-Lot. Of course he is. He’s bobbing his head offbeat as you reach out to grab his sleeve. You don’t know why you’re so scared to get his attention. You’ve been dating for five months now and it’s felt pretty great until recently.

“Hey, slow down. I don’t know where we’re heading.” You manage to tell him, gently snagging his baggy sweatshirt sleeve and also successfully pissing him off based on the scowl he wears.

“What the hell? Why are you so damn slow? Just walk, babe.” Floch responds before yanking his arm away. He then walks faster as if to spite you. As if he wants to lose sight of you. You shake that thought from your head, physically due to the persistent panic now running through you, as you run to catch up with him. Glancing back with a simper, Floch grins further when he sees you run after him. Is he doing this to make himself feel better? Surely not…

Those anxiety riddled worries dissipate as you enter a retail store inside the mall. Thankfully, the lights are dim. Not all too luminous, more closely resembling a club with twinkling stars hanging from the ceiling adding enough light to see but not grow ill from the fluorescent lights like they have in universities and offices. It’s a creative lighting fixture and honestly you can get behind it. While you appreciate the gentle luminosity of the store you’re pulling by Floch, his hand wrapping around your wrist possessively. As we fully enter the establishment, music filling my ears and it not being Floch’s, I realize it doesn’t match the quaint, elegant atmosphere established.

Hi, I’m a Slut is playing on the intercoms. Grandmas looking at shawls with their husbands furrow their brows with disgust, mothers cover the ears of their young adult children as if they haven’t heard that word before while their husbands crack up at the licentious lyrics. Amidst the disappointment and disgust, one boy with tanned skin and an overgrown buzz cut is grinning. He’s even chuckling; his hand covering his mouth as he elbows a brunette besides him. The retail employee laughs so hard he leans forward against the counter, the girl beside him with her dark brown ponytail swaying back and forth as she wobbles with her guffaws too, and cackles like a hyena at the harmless prank he’s pulled. The girl besides him smacks his back, prompting him to begin coughing and sputtering and laughing in between his asphyxiation.

It seems like it’d be fun to work here. Of course Floch disagrees, somehow knowing exactly what you’re thinking to ruin your minute joy. “Fucking morons. Let’s go buy something hot and sexy for you to wear to this concert, babe.” His hand tightens around your wrist as he pulls you to the section with more provocative - not exactly lingerie - garments. Dresses with large slits at the hips, shirts with keyholes to expose cleavage, skirts so short it’s amazing they aren’t accused of being belts. Not exactly what you typically… not what you’ve ever worn. “Damn babe, this would look so good on you.”

Floch groans as he says the words, making you bite back bile, while holding up a hanger. Draped on the hanger is a sweater with a massive keyhole in the front to expose your chest down the length of your sternum. What the fuck?

“I don’t know about that.” You tell him with a small chuckle as if it’ll lessen whatever response he’ll have to you indirectly saying no. He hasn’t always been this way… at least, you don’t think he’s been this way your whole relationship.

“Well, I know.” Floch interjects, grinning. His expression is so coy and sly. So often he is smug and presenting himself with delusional confidence. “So let’s try it on, baby.” Before you can protest, or maybe even change your mind and agree to please this asshole, you’re led to the changing rooms. Suddenly it feels like all eyes are on you when Floch snides, “can’t wait to see some skin,” before pushing you inside the confines of the stall.

Twisting the knob to leave and talk to him like a civil person, you discover you can’t open the door. From the outside Floch is tapping his foot, one hand texting on his phone with a grin, while his other hand is holding the doorknob on the other side so you can’t open it. Superman by Eminem is now playing after the prolonged silence (besides those two people at the register dying of laughter) following the more provocative track that greeted you and your boyfriend.

It’s ironic, you guess.

Taking a look at the sweater, you can’t help but sigh. The fabric is heavy and hot and haughty. Pretentious but poorly made. Strands jut out from the stitch and it’s clear some poor, underpaid individual likely made this and then this store added a crazy markup. With a cheek of the tag you confirm your intuition when you see it’s marked for $179. As the sale price. Hell no.

“Floch, baby, c’mon let me out,” Chuckling awkwardly, you jostle the knob to indicate you’re serious. “This thing is itchy and expensive. Let’s get something better. It’s also crazy hot right now, so I don’t want to wear a sweater.” You explain, hoping that he’ll be compassionate and understand that.

Silence.

It’s jarring whenever he’s silent. Not just lately but actually… the entire time you’ve dated him. He likes to talk. He loves to blabber and ramble and narrate. Whenever he’s radio silent on you it means you’ve pissed him off. It means you’re in the wrong… maybe it doesn’t. He’s locked you in a dressing room and now you want to apologize? He should say sorry this is psycho behavior!

“Baby?” Repeating it once more, the pet name coming from your lips like first nature despite your frustration growing with him.

Silence.

“Floch!” You can’t help but shout. It’s fucking stressful to be in a tiny stall that smells like feet holding an itchy sweater that costs way too much for its quality level. “This isn’t funny!” Despite your best efforts your voice grows shaky and it causes your volume to rise.

You recognize the song playing. Or perhaps you’re just tuned back in on the stereo outside the door. Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift.

Thump!

He fucking kicked the door of the dressing room. Instinctively you back away and your back hits the wall behind you. The music in the background is just white noise, insignificant and mildly irritating as you freak the fuck out, as you stare in shock at the door as if your hurt expression transfers through the wood.

She’s damn right. Here you are, your last month of summer break from college, being fucking trapped in a dressing room by the man you introduce as your lover. Perhaps that’ll be the next song playing while this nightmare persists.

“Let me out, Floch! You’re acting crazy!” At your words Floch bangs the door once more, making the frame jump with you and the wood splinter. “What’s making you do this?” You ask shakily as your anxieties, your fears, are heightened by the fact you can’t see him.

“Make me, little bitch.” Floch's voice rings out and you can hear his smug expression.

Before Floch can respond like a kind, polite, and lovely boyfriend would - or how a cruel, unkind, and crude boyfriend would - there’s another voice outside the door. The voice isn’t very deep but it isn’t high either. Perhaps it’s a tenor? The inflection of the speaker implies he has an accent from not around here. His voice sounds confrontational. Or maybe Floch’s bitterness is corrupting this stranger.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The new voice asks presumably Floch, his voice deepening when he swears. “We have a rule against fucking locking people in closets. Formed right now cause no one has done this weird shit before.” Continuing, the voice then comes closer. You’re beginning to place it. The bravado matches those jovial but obnoxiously loud laughs heard from the retail worker with the fuzzy buzz cut. “Step away from the door.” He warns, pitching his voice lower as if to sound scarier.

It’s also odd he locked you in a fucking dressing room. So you’re allowed to push your fists in the air in victory, like you’re the one who punched him, when you hear his loud footsteps while stumbling.

Until you hear his nose fucking break.

It sounds like a can of soda being popped open; maybe a firecracker blowing or those little pop-its that can burn you or - holy hell he punched Floch! You’re giddy. Giddy in the way you’d cheer when your favorite sports team wins against all odds. Odd how you’re celebrating an injury to the man you love.

The door is easily opened from a small twist of the wrist while holding the doorknob. Kitty Kat by Megan Thee Stallion is beginning to play after a lot of radio classics.

Know what’s also beautiful? Stepping over him. As you do so, Floch grabs your ankle. He mumbles something unkind that you can’t fully hear but you ignore him. Nothing beginning with ‘you treacherous-’ will be worth hearing from him.

Perhaps it’s fitting? The energy certainly is as you step out. Once you’re free, holding that ugly, inadequate sweater, you’re greeted with the retail worker standing over Floch while blood gushes down his face like a waterfall.

It’s a beautiful sight.

Now standing beside the retail worker, his friend watching from the register with an enthused grin, you can see the name on his tag. ‘Connie S.’

Connie? There’s a Connie in the band you love. He typically wears a hood so you’ve never seen his haircut - not even online. With angular black eyeliner and ash smeared across his scrawny but sculpted chest as he plays the drums with his entire being. He’s feral; fucking insane. The way he breaks his drumsticks every performance and they sell online for more money than splintered wood could ever be worth. His energy is absolutely contagious but you wouldn’t mind catching it. At least a little.

When he pulls back his outer layer you can confirm it’s Connie Springer. The Connie Springer who tears up stages across the United States, eliciting enthusiasm across all metalheads, embodying earnest appreciation for the poetic, powerful expression it is to bangs wood against… wood. You digress. His tattoo is a complete sleeve on his right arm, the hand he always wears a glove on when he’s playing at a concert from the clips you’ve seen. Full of black ink with pops of indigo and scarlet, the shades popping brilliantly against his sienna skin, his tattoo is the embodiment of his characteristic chaotic energy he carries with him during every performance. From afar it does look like random shapes and cool patterns paired together, but you’re sure there’s more to it. Tattoos are so permanent! He must of thought hard and long and deeply-

“You’re staring, hon.” Connie says with a boyish grin. It’s sweet and genuine unlike Floch’s. “You okay? The guy you’re with seems to have issues.” You nod as he speaks, dazed a little at the thought of him being Connie; the drummer for Paradis. “Did you need help finding something… or?” Sheepishly - yet slyly still - smirking, Connie sweetness and playfully and you see now, flirtatiousness, is not lost on you. “Did you need someone?” He teases, removing his uniform dress shirt that he had on outside of a tank top.

Holy shit.

“Oh you’re studying his tat.” The brunette at the cashier says from behind you resulting in a small flinch. “Didn’t mean to scare you!” She apologies with a genial chuckle. So genuine. “He only got that because his bandmates did and he wanted to prove Jean was weak for crying when he got his back tatted.”

Jean? Like Jean Kirstein from Paradis? Holy heck.

Giggling again, you realize how beautiful Sasha’s laugh is. It’s saccharine and mellifluous; it’s honey to a sore throat. “Oh, I’m Sasha by the way.” She finally says with an honest smile and a friendly pat to your shoulder.

Like a deer in headlights you stare at their interaction. Sasha, the one with a bit more sense - or perhaps just intuition - of the two, chiding Connie for being ditzy in only the way your closest friends can. She’s stylish. The effortless type of stylish. She’s in a large baggy maroon t-shirt with a camo print hoodie underneath with the black hoodie peaking up. Her brown hair is tied back with a black ribbon, a necklace loose around her neck on a thick leather strap but the gem is hidden under her shirt, and green cargo shorts that end at the knees. If anyone else was wearing something like that they’d look crazy. Sasha… makes it work. Her sunglasses have little sparkly stars on the rim; they’re rhinestones that catch the light beautifully. She’s serving cunt in camo… how does she do it? Crew socks with little pigs on them and black, hunter-green, and white sneakers complete her oddly pleasing attire.

“I’m Connie!” The boy exclaims proudly as if he didn’t hear a word.

Sasha chuckles. “Dude, where were you?” Her words prompt Connie to shrug, playful and at ease. It’s so metal he just punched a man unconscious and now he’s here jiving. Chatting as if this was any old day for him.

“The merch from our first ep,” Connie repeats once more as he realizes the weight of that. The merch they sold because they were given a discount from a buddy and dive bars were desperate for some live entertainment and haggled for 40% of their merch profits. Back when Mikasa was banging holes in the drums themselves with her own sort of stoic intensity instead of Connie splitting the branches he thumped against the percussion with his kinetic passion. You’ve been a fan since Paradis performed their first ever setlist composed of Dio covers, makeshift comedy routines from Connie when the dingy sound of the equally dank bars would give them trouble, and Jean competing with Eren because back they were fixated on only one of them writing the lyrics. The significance of the shirt you’re wearing makes him dramatically clutch his heart through his tank.

Connie on the other hand is a hot mess. Literally and figuratively. His hand runs over his buzz cut, sighing when he can’t yet run his hands through his hair seductively like everyone else in the band. No thirst edits of him including that clip… yet. His armpits aren’t shaved and whenever he lifts his toned arms you can see tufts of ashy brown hair. He has more body hair than hair on his head, maybe, if you combine his hairy legs too. Connie’s in sweatpants you realize, not exactly what you’d expect from a rock star or a retail worker on shift, and you can’t help but notice that imprint. Your eyes are torn from it, thankfully because your cheeks started to develop a cherry tint, due to Connie flexing his arm muscles when he snaps as a thought comes to him. The sound snagged your attention too… you guess.

“Your shirt man, it’s our first album!” Connie finally realizes, staring straight at your chest. You give him a pass since that’s where the bulk of the design is.

“Don’t make it weird.” Sasha jokes, elbowing Connie as he remains in his theatrics.

“No! This means everything!” The boy argues with a bashful grin on his face. He really does seem flattered. It’s cute… it’s making your lips curl into a delicate smile.

“I just… really liked the design.” You begin, fiddling with the hem of the black shirt. A lion stretches proudly, extending itself as it arches its back, in a field of gladiolus flowers awaking from a nap. They only printed these t-shirts in black. There’s a line from their song from that ep, Waking Lions, that’s written below the lion and in the gorgeous bed of sun kissed, passionately purple flowers. The line, in a gradient white and purple that’s beginning to fade off, says: I wanna stand up, a hundred feet tall ‘cause fear will never lead the way. I’m waking the lions in me.

Those two see right through you. Especially Sasha. She urges me to continue, to even ramble, with a shift in those chocolate irises. “Okay… I also really loved the songs. Especially Waking Lions! I’m so glad that’s the song you decided to model the ep’s art off of and also that you made merch!” You find yourself ramble, rattling on about what you really thought of the lyrics. How the art is so cute compared to what a metal-core band would be expected to produce. The way their first album, even if only housing three songs, was revolutionary in your eyes.

“Yeah, Jean wrote Waking Lions and he’s the one with the art degree. So Eren lost the battle on having When the Lights Come On be the star of our first ever original recording.” Connie rubs his hand over his fuzzy head, his pointy canines revealed as he smiles. “He won the war and got to be the lead vocalist though!” He adds with a chuckle like he recalled a memory. Probably how the two bickered endlessly about who that title goes to.

“Connie’s playing tonight at the Garrison if you want to come. Bet they didn’t sell out!” Sasha teases with an upbeat tone in contrast to Connie’s pretend pout. They’re a fun duo. Seeming to have energy that feeds off each other in a positive feedback loop. “You seem like a huge fan too. So,” Sasha stands besides Connie and the two glance between each other like they’re plotting, scheming. “Would you want to go with us? I’ve been looking for a new concert buddy, since Connie can’t head bang with me when he’s on stage!”

Laughing at Sasha’s comment, you nod your head almost immediately. You were going to attend with Floch, since giving you two tickets for the balcony - which is the worst spot since you’re into moshing and they’re typically more expensive - was his attempt of being nice, but he’s entirely shown his true colors. Or perhaps you finally removed your rose tinted glasses and took those pivotal steps out of your ivory tower.

“I’d love to go with you guys. My date is knocked the hell out, thanks Connie,” Sasha snorts a laugh and Connie throws up a peace sign, “so I doubt he’ll want to take me. Or even go himself.” Smiling with appreciation, you add quickly, “thank you guys so much for the invite.”

Connie slinks his arm around your shoulders while Sasha gives him and you a high-five at the same time. Nice, it’s crisp. “Yo! I can’t wait!” Connie exclaims with enthusiasm – the same enthusiasm that infects the crowd from insipid to invigorated in no time. “First, let’s get you a cool outfit for free. Cause once my boss sees I knocked his ass out I’m fired.”

“I’m getting a cool outfit too!” Sasha excitedly agrees, reassuring you naturally. “I’m always asking Constance to slip me a free dress but he never does.” Pouting when Connie yells for her to never call him that again, Sasha begins to peruse the racks of clothing surrounding you three. And I guess Floch but he’s literally down for the count.

Connie, with the cutest opportunistic grin, adds, “I’m already gonna get fired. May as well make this a concert worth remembering down to what you wore!”

Sasha begins shopping with Connie’s last paycheck as her credit card, and Connie has his arm around your shoulders in a friendly way. It’s as if you’ve known him for years. Like the three of you are best friends reunited, you find yourself agreeing with a nod of your head.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Hopefully some fun.

[divinebird]

momentous 1/2

pairing: sheith (shiro/keith) wc: 11,323 notes: for aki, happy birthday! this au is something we talked about for a long while, which is inspired by the walking dead. specifically, season 3 episode 4 :). this universe is also a part of a zomb au i have in the works, but that comes out in the future. so, enjoy! warnings: implied sexual content, unplanned pregnancy, child birth, c-section, mentions of amputation, mild depictions of gore summary: Right now the fear outweighs any other emotion because it’s not a scare this time, it’s real. When he rests a hand across his stomach a new one starts to blossom, starting in his chest and slowly spreading everywhere else until he finds himself smiling.

He feels happy.

(trans keith + unplanned pregnancy + zomb au)

{AO3} (formatted better here)

momentous adjective | mo·men·tous | \mō-ˈmen-təs, mə-\ important, consequential • a momentous decision

-

Keith had only gotten the test on a whim after feeling a bit off for some time, expecting a negative result. It was easy to assume that it wouldn’t be possible since it wasn’t before all of this but as he stares at the two pink lines he realizes that it definitely is.

“Pregnant,” he repeats faintly. “I’m pregnant.”

They had a pregnancy scare a few months back, caused by a faulty test they later discovered, and the relief he felt at the time nearly overwhelmed him. It wasn’t just relief he felt, though; Keith also had a flash of disappointment because there was a part of him, deep down inside, that still craved a family of his own.

Right now the fear outweighs any other emotion because it’s not a scare this time, it’s real. When he rests a hand across his stomach a new one starts to blossom, starting in his chest and slowly spreading everywhere else until he finds himself smiling.

He feels happy.

A knock on the door startles him and he only relaxes when he remembers that he locked it. “Keith?” Shiro’s voice is laced with concern, and a softness that’s only reserved for him. “Are you all right? You’ve been in there for a while.”

“I’m fine,” he answers, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. “Got lost in thought, I’ll be out in a sec.”

There’s a pause and Keith prays that Shiro believes him because he doesn’t want to have to explain just yet what is going on with him, not yet. “Okay,” Shiro finally says and Keith slumps against the wall, thankful that he did. “You better hurry before all the rolls are gone.”

“You’ll save some for me anyways,” he replies, smiling when Shiro laughs. He clings to the sound of it even as it fades away, closing his eyes and imagining Shiro right beside him to calm his nerves.

He could go out there and ask Shiro for comfort, sit down on his lap and welcome his embrace, but he’s still wrapping his head around the new situation he’s in. While he is happy about the fact that he’s going to have a baby there’s a huge chance that Shiro might not feel the same.

Keith wraps the tests in toilet paper, placing them at the bottom of his bag before getting up to wash his hands. He splashes water on his face, staring at his reflection as he dries it with a small towel and wonders if there are any differences he can spot.

Nope, he still looks the same.

“Bring it up to him,” he tells himself, distressed eyes looking back at him. “You have to.”

He doesn’t.

☆ ☆ ☆

It’s brought up a few nights later, when Keith is still breathless and twitching while Shiro is kissing his neck. He laughs when he feels Shiro’s light scruff against his skin, pushing him away. “I thought I told you to shave.”

“You like it.”

Shiro moves so that he’s lying next to him and Keith waits until he’s on his back before shifting closer, resting his head on Shiro’s chest. Fingers run through his hair, the action soothing and causing him to slowly doze off. He doesn’t even open his eyes when Shiro sighs in the way that tells him that he’s got something on his mind, humming to show that he’ll be listening.

“What’s been going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, pushing his head up into the touch. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Keith says nothing, opening his eyes and staring at the wall. “No,” he finally admits after a long moment of silence. “I’m so lost right now and I don’t know what to do.” Taking a deep breath, he continues before Shiro can speak. “I think I’ve already made the choice but is it really the right one? Could I really do it, especially with how the world is right now? They don’t deserve that, Shiro, and I don’t even know if I’ll be a good…” Keith bites the inside of his cheek to prevent more from spilling out, the hand in his hair stilling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, can you please explain?”

He sits up, staring down at Shiro’s face. Shiro wears the look of worry he’s been carrying, only seen when Keith catches him looking. “I’m pregnant.” Keith whispers as he looks away, not wanting to see his expression change.

Arms wrap around him and he sinks into the embrace, pressing his face into Shiro’s shoulder and clinging to him. “You said you made your choice, right?” Shiro asks with no indication in his voice as to what he could be feeling.

“I want to keep it.” Keith answers in a small voice. “But it’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Look at the world around us,” he says, pulling back and gesturing out the window. “Do you think our child deserves to live in a world like this? Do you think they’ll grow up happy here? Safe? Will they make it to an old age and die peacefully in their sleep or will they be torn apart by infected?” Keith covers his stomach, staring down at it and hating the way his eyes well up. “I think of all of this but you know what else I think of? Our child having your eyes…my hair…”

“So you don’t want to…”

“No, I don’t.” Keith voice drops to a whisper. “I’m scared, Takashi.”

One of Shiro’s hands covers his own, curling gently around his fingers. “I am too,” Shiro says, just as quiet, and when he looks up at him he sees a hint of a smile on his face. “Tell me, really tell me: do you want this?”

There’s no hesitation. “Yes.”

“So do I.”

Keith meets him for a kiss, other hand cupping Shiro’s cheek and smiling at the rough feel. He’s tugged into Shiro’s lap and only pulls away to catch his breath, smile turning into a smirk at Shiro’s noise when he rolls his hips. “Again?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Shiro mutters, wrapping an arm around him as he presses his lips to Keith’s chest. Keith jolts when he feels teeth against skin, playfully tugging at Shiro’s hair. “You good?”

He replies with another kiss which muffles his gasp when Shiro rocks up. “Yeah,” he murmurs, licking his lips. “Definitely.”

☆ ☆ ☆

They decide to keep it to themselves for now, unsure of what could happen in the next few weeks. Keith doesn’t mind, happy to share this feeling with Shiro and Shiro only. There has been more conversations about it, the two of them figuring out what they’ll need in the future and when Shiro should start looking.

(“No more supply runs for me,” Keith tells him one afternoon, head pillowed on Shiro’s lap while they’re relaxing on the couch. “I won’t even step outside the gates.”

“How come?” Shiro questions with a bewildered expression, which makes sense because Keith isn’t known to back down and stay behind even when he’s told to do so.

This is different

“We both know I can handle myself out there but I still don’t want to risk them.” he answers quietly, fingers brushing over his still flat stomach. “They’re not even here yet and I already want to do everything I can to keep them safe, that’s the best I can do right now.” He pauses. “Is that weird?”

Shiro’s confusion clears, face growing softer as he rests his hand over his stomach. “It doesn’t seem weird to me, Keith. That might be because I feel something similar so you won’t hear me complaining about this choice you’ve made.”

“You’d say the same thing if I decided to do this outside of pregnancy.”

“I won’t confirm or deny that.”)

It also brings a new closeness to them, Shiro constantly touching him and even keeping his palm on his stomach throughout the nights. Keith will usually cover that hand with his own, not telling Shiro that he actually finds it adorable.

Keith isn’t able to estimate how far along he really is since the size of his belly doesn’t tell him a thing. He knows that he’s supposed to get bigger as time passes but there’s barely been any change to his stomach. Is that normal? Will he ever get a bump? What if that’s a bad sign?

He doesn’t voice these worries to Shiro because he knows that the suggestion will be to go to Pidge’s mother, who was a nurse before all of this and uses her skills to make sure everyone is well bandaged and healthy in their small community. Keith isn’t quite ready to go see her, not wanting to share the news that he’s with child, but the decision is pretty much out of his hands after a while.

Morning sickness hits and it hits hard.

“You should go see Colleen about it,” Shiro says one afternoon as he holds Keith’s hair back, even reaching past him to flush the toilet himself when Keith clumsily attempts to do so. “I don’t think it’s normal for you to get sick every time you eat.”

“Shut up, Takashi.” Keith mutters, pushing himself up to stand.

He allows Shiro to help him over to the sink and turns the knob, cupping his hands beneath the running water and rinsing his mouth a couple of times before grabbing his toothbrush. They have toothpaste this month, something he’s grateful for as he brushes his teeth until the taste of vomit is gone.

He slows down when he sees the bag under his eyes in his own reflection, the way he looks a bit sickly, and sighs. Shiro is right, of course, and after he rinses his mouth again he nods. “I’ll go later today, that way you can pick me up when you’re finished with your job.”

“I’m just guarding the wall, I can ask someone else to take over for me so I can go with you.”

“You’ve already done that too many times, Lance is going to start complaining.” Keith tugs on Shiro’s arm and they slowly walk into their bedroom, heading over to the bed which became a huge comfort after spending his morning kneeling on the bathroom floor. “He’s already annoyed that I haven’t been doing my own jobs, don’t let him feel the same way over you.”

“I can handle him,” Shiro murmurs in response but does pull away to get ready. Keith watches him as he does so, eyeing his back and licking his lips when he feels a spark of heat in his gut. He doesn’t say anything about that when Shiro returns to his side.

“Should I tell her?” Keith asks quietly when Shiro leans down, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from doing anything.

Shiro only smiles at him, removing his hand and then kissing his forehead. “It’s your decision,” he says before kissing him on the lips. “You might have to anyways so we can figure out how to make you feel better.”

He gives a nod and grips Shiro’s shirt as he’s about to step back, keeping his face tilted up. “One more kiss?”

“If I give one more you’ll ask for another and then an extra, I won’t ever leave.” Shiro still kisses him, this one longer.

“What’s so wrong with that?” Keith counters but lets him go, falling back on the bed. “See you later.”

☆ ☆ ☆

He leaves two hours after Shiro does, heading over to Pidge’s house and feeling nervous as he knocks on the door.

Thankfully, her mother is the one who opens it—surprised to see him there. “Are you looking for Pidge?” she asks in a curious voice. “Or Matt? They’re not here right now; they went off to try and fix more of the lights.”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m here to see you, actually.” He bites his lip, honestly feeling nervous. “I’ve been feeling sick and I wanted to know if there’s anything you have that can make me feel better.”

She stares at him and Keith can feel himself fidget in place at the intensity of it. “Let’s go to my office, then,” she says after a few seconds, shutting the door when she steps outside with him. “I have everything I need there.”

“You have an office?”

“I didn’t want any more blood on my carpet.”

Her office turns out to be another house, all of the furniture cleared out from the living room and replaced with a shelf containing different kinds of medical equipment and three cots. He sits down on the one she points at and watches her comb through her shelf, blinking at the many items she comes back with.

“What are your symptoms?” she asks as she pulls on a pair of latex gloves. He opens his mouth when she holds one of those larger popsicle sticks, allowing her to check his throat. “It looks a bit swollen…”

“I’ve been throwing up a lot,” he answers when she pulls away. “I think I feel a bit warmer than usual? And I’ve been feeling really tired even though I sleep a ton.”

Colleen hums and picks up the thermometer next. “Do you know why you’ve been sick?” she asks while placing it beneath his tongue. When he gives a shake of his head, she raises an eyebrow. “Keith, I need to know so we can figure out if you need medicine or not.”

“Maybe I’m coming down with the flu?” Keith offers once the thermometer is out of his mouth, reading the temperature (ninety-eight degrees) and huffing when she simply gives him a look like she knows it’s not the truth. “Okay, fine. I know why.”

She crosses her arms, waiting.

Keith looks away. “I’m pregnant.”

“I thought so.”

His gaze snaps back to her, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. “How!?”

“I remember being pregnant once or twice,” she answers with a small wave of her hand, pulling her chair closer to herself and sitting across from him. “You’re keeping it, right? If you weren’t, then you probably wouldn’t even be here right now.” Her eyes hold no judgement, only the warmth they always hold whenever she speaks to him.

“Yes,” he interlocks his fingers, tapping his thumbs together. “I want to.”

Colleen smiles at him and he reads excitement on her face. “Shiro knows, right?” she asks and continues when Keith nods in response. “Good. Okay. Have you been gaining any weight?”

“I’m not sure, we don’t have a scale.” Keith frowns. “I’m supposed to have a baby bump, right? Is it normal to not have one?”

“It is,” she answers and he feels himself sag in relief. “People usually start showing later in their pregnancy if it’s their first one so you’ll get one down the line, as long as you keep eating right.” A pause. “Have you been able to keep your food down?”

“No, I throw up after every meal.” Keith frowns. “Shiro thinks it isn’t normal for me to do that, which is why I’m here today. Also because I’m tired of vomiting constantly, and I want something to help me with it.”

“There’s no medicine to help you with this,” Colleen opens up one of her cabinets. “You could try drinking a bit of tea to help soothe your stomach, but having a lot is bad for you and the baby. Bed rest is the best option, along with some of this.”

She holds out a bottle of Gatorade and when Keith drinks some, opening it at her pointed nod, he feels a bit better. While it might just be his imagination helping him along, he’s certainly not complaining over something quelling the nausea he feels all the time.

“Thank you,” Keith says quietly once he’s downed half of it.

“I’ll tell Hunk to bring back a case when he goes on another supply run.” Colleen places three more beside him, a kind smile on her face. “I won’t tell him that it’s for you, so don’t look so worried.”

“I’m not worried,” he mutters, feeling his lips twitch when she laughs. “Is there anything else I’ll need?”

“Vitamins, of course, though I don’t know when you’ll be able to get them. If I give a list to anyone who goes out there, they’ll be able to recognize the items on it, especially if it’s Pidge, Hunk, or Matt with the other.”

“Shiro can get them.”

“He won’t leave you alone, I know how it is.”

“If I tell him it’s something I need, then he’ll go out there,” Keith doesn’t doubt for a second that Shiro would head on out to find the vitamins for him and some extra so the rest of Keith’s pregnancy goes well. “Do you think I’ll be able to do it?”

“You can. I won’t lie to you and say that it’ll be easy, because it might not be. Our lack of resources will make it harder, especially when you go through labor, so we’ll have to plan ahead.”

He hadn’t even thought of that. “Oh.”

She rubs his shoulder and he actually finds it comforting. “Don’t worry about it right now, we can discuss it when you’re farther along instead.”

There’s a knock on the door and Colleen walks over to open it. The sight of Shiro looking out of breath makes Keith sit up straighter. “You didn’t have to rush for me, I would have been fine here.” Keith points out, welcoming the kiss he receives as a greeting.

“I know,” Shiro slips a hand beneath his shirt, thumb stroking over his hip. “You good?”

“I will be.”

☆ ☆ ☆

When he finally starts to show, it’s a tiny bump—unnoticeable to their friends but definitely to both of them. Shiro becomes a bit unbearable, constantly asking if he’s okay, taking up all the strenuous work, and more. It makes him wonder if Colleen told him anything after their meeting because he has no other explanation for this kind of behavior.

There’s only one thing that fills him with anger mixed with annoyance.

“Stop giving me your food!” Keith hisses, sliding the plate back to him.

“You need it more than I do,” Shiro replies as he places it back in front of him, grabbing one of the apples from the basket and taking a bite from it. “I don’t need to eat a lot to get through the day, I’ll be fine.”

“At this point you are the one who needs it, you’ve been doing this for the past few days!”

Shiro says nothing else, gazing at him as he continues to eat his apple.

Feeling vexed—a familiar emotion after however many times Shiro has pulled this with him—he crosses his arms and looks away. A tense silence falls between them, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by their friends.

Lance, of course, is the first to comment. “Jeez, what’s up with you two? Actually, I don’t want to know. All I want is for you to not argue at the dinner table, we’re trying to eat here!”

“We’re not arguing,” Shiro replies and Keith feels himself scowl. “We just had a small disagreement.”

“Disagreement my ass,” he mutters under his breath. He glares at Shiro’s plate, arms crossed and mouth twisted. There’s an uneasy air afterwards and he knows he’s getting more than a few looks from his friends but he doesn’t care, irritation building up inside him and clawing at his insides like it needs to be released.

The conversations around him go through one ear and out the other, muffled only to him as he focuses on relaxing.

He remembers when one of the women in his neighborhood got pregnant and how his mother told her time and time again to take it easy, because any stress or negative emotions was apparently bad for the baby. Maybe this counts, too.

Keith pushes himself up carefully, looking over at Shiro first and then Allura. “I’m going for a walk,” he informs them, stepping away from his chair and waving in their direction before doing exactly that.

No one follows after him, thankfully, so he keeps his pace slow. Keith doesn’t have a destination in mind and simply continues to walk until he finds a place to stop at, looking all around him as he moves along.

He ends up at the library.

It’s a small building, obviously meant to give the people who lived in this town something to do. He props one of the doors open with a brick, heading further inside. Keith pays no attention to the books, though his fingers glide along the spines as he walks through the aisles. He eventually comes across a small reading area, books in a neat stack on top of the small table with bean bags surrounding it.

Keith sits down on the red bean bag and is happy to discover that it’s really comfy.

Reaching out towards the table, he picks up the book on the very top and starts flipping through it. He stops at a random page and starts to read, only stopping when he reads the same passage about five times and sets it aside.

“Keith?”

He considers not answering, sinking down further into the bean bag. After a few more calls of his name he sighs, turning his head towards the sound of Shiro’s voice.

“Over here.”

Shiro’s tense posture is the first thing that he notices, watching as it drains away when he turns his head towards Keith. They stare at each other for longer than necessary until Keith pats the space beside him.

While Shiro does move closer, he seems to hesitate before he’s within reach. “Can you sit on my lap instead?” Shiro asks softly and honestly fidgets in place when Keith raises an eyebrow. “I want to hold you, Keith.”

“Only if you sit on this one,” Keith counters and stands up, waiting for Shiro to sit down before carefully sitting on his lap. He shifts until he’s comfortable and ends up with his head rested on Shiro’s shoulder as fingers run through his hair.

“I’ve been bugging you, haven’t I?”

Keith shifts so that his ear is directly over Shiro’s heart, the sound of it causing him to relax even further. “Yes,” he answers truthfully, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes. “I know you mean well, Shiro, but giving up your own portion doesn’t make me feel good.”

“You need to eat more, Keith. You’re—”

“I know, I know. I’m eating for two. It just bothers me that I’m taking food from you when I can get seconds on my own.” He sits up so he can look at Shiro, unable to keep the frown off his face. “You need to eat as well, especially if you keep going out there for runs.”

Shiro simply gazes at him, the affection in his eyes never leaving. “How about this,” he begins and reaches up with a hand. It rests against his cheek and Keith leans into it with a hum, enjoying the way his thumb rubs over his cheekbone. “I give you some of mine if you can’t get more.”

He sighs. “Shiro…”

“We don’t know how our food situation will be in a couple of months and we especially don’t know how our crops will do.” Shiro gains a furrow to his brow like this is something he’s been worried about for a while, which only clears when Keith leans forward to kiss the spot. “Sacrificing some food so you and our baby have enough to eat is worth it, Keith.”

The hand on his cheek starts to slide down until it reaches the hem of his shirt. Keith nods when he sees Shiro’s questioning look and feels his lips twitch at the look of adoration Shiro gets when his hand rests against his stomach.

His shirt is pushed up even further and Shiro leans forward. Keith shivers at the feel of lips against his skin, reaching up and lightly tugging on his tuft of hair.

“Only if we run low,” he finally agrees after thinking about it for longer, pushing Shiro back against the bean bag and sitting on his lap again. “And only then, Shiro. Don’t try to sneak more onto my plate when you think I’m not looking.”

“So you did catch that.”

“No but thanks for admitting that you have.” He pauses. “We’re taking this bean bag home.”

☆ ☆ ☆

He can’t hide this secret for long.

It comes out when he’s confronted about his lack of work within their small community, Lance scowling fiercely at him with his arms crossed as he stares at him. “Well?” he asks impatiently, obviously wanting an answer. “You got an explanation for not working as much as we do?”

Keith sighs.

“Lance, just calm down,” Shiro says beside him and Keith rolls his eyes when he sees the glare turn onto Shiro next. “You don’t have to be angry about this. There is a very important reason as to why Keith isn’t allowed to do so much heavy lifting.”

“He doesn’t even go out on supply runs, Shiro!” Lance cries out while throwing his arms out. “Something that he loves to do! So please, Keith, tell me why you’re not doing your job anymore!”

Embarrassment washes over him when he sees Hunk and Allura looking down from their small watch tower, Pidge and Matt stopping in place down the sidewalk, and Coran close by but head turned in their direction.

He catches Shiro’s nod from the corner of his eye, obviously a way to tell Keith that he’ll be okay with whatever decision he makes right now. The support gives him the courage he needs to look Lance in the eye, hands clenched into fists by his side and voice unwavering when he speaks.

“I’m pregnant.”

The reaction is immediate, Lance’s eyes going wide and mouth dropping open. He said it low enough so he’s the only one who heard but, knowing Lance, everyone else will soon hear in a bit so he continues with his explanation.

“I don’t know how far along I am, but I haven’t been going on supply runs because I didn’t want to risk the baby in any way, and I’ve been limiting my work load because Shiro doesn’t want me to strain myself. I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve been lazy or whatever but it’s really just me wanting to make sure this goes well.”

It’s utterly silent for several long moments.

A hand touches his right one, gently unfurling it so their fingers can interlock. When he sneaks a peek at Shiro he catches sight of the small, proud smile on his face. They say nothing to each other, Keith looking back at Lance while a kiss is pressed to the side of his head.

Lance seems to come back to himself, mouth closing with an audible click before he starts pointing at Keith. “You’re what!?”

“Pregnant.”

He points to Keith’s stomach next. “Baby!?”

“Yes.”

Then, at Shiro. “Him!?”

“Who else?”

When it seems like Lance has more to say Keith reaches out to grab his finger, giving it a shake before letting go. “As we have established now: I am pregnant with a baby because of Shiro.” He raises his voice. “And now everyone knows and can come talk about it since they’re just waiting for the chance to do so.”

They’re surrounded in an instant.

Keith does take a step back when they all start talking at once, leaning into Shiro’s embrace when he wraps an arm around him. He knows they mean well and they’re just curious but it’s honestly starting to feel overwhelming, something that Shiro must sense.

“Alright, alright! Calm down!” Shiro barks and everyone falls silent. Keith pats his hand in silent gratitude. “Let’s do this one by one, okay? Keith can be the one to decide who will go.���

This time he gives his hand a squeeze and then steps away from him, looking at all their friends before pointing at an excitable Allura.

“Are you going to have godparents for them?” Her words express the enthusiasm well, especially when she bounces in place. “Oh, wait, nevermind about that! Do you need us to start getting baby items for you on supply runs?”

“That’d be nice, Allura.” He tells her with a smile. “You can even take Shiro with you when you go. I think he’ll be a great judge for things like cribs or strollers.” Keith knows this to be true because Shiro will make sure every inch of those sort of things will be perfectly safe for their child. “Not all at once, though. We don’t know what can happen.”

She nods, understanding his meaning.

Pidge waves her hand around and Keith almost laughs. “This isn’t school, Pidge, but go right ahead.”

“What about powdered milk?” she questions immediately. “I think that’s something we should stock up on right away—diapers and wipes as well! Those are the things you’ll need the most so we shouldn’t wait until we have to go farther and farther out for these things.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t take the stuff that’s nearby?” Matt is looking at Pidge with a contemplating expression. “So that way, in case of an emergency, it’s only a long walk or a quick drive.”

“That’s actually a good plan,” says Shiro with his own thoughtful look. “We should hide them in a safe spot at least, that way no one else messes it up if they’re passing through.”

“Are you going to want a baby shower?” Lance seems to have gotten over his shock and is now pointing at Keith (again), eyes narrowed. “You do, right? I can start planning for it.”

Keith blinks and thinks it over. “A small party,” he counters. “Nothing too extravagant, we don’t need to waste all our supplies on something like that.”

“We can have a small dinner and give you gifts?”

“That works.”

Lance beams at him, and it’s so strange to see that directed at him, before nodding towards Shiro, “I’m happy for both of you, really. Starting a family is a pretty big deal and, despite the whole undead situation, I’m glad it’s happening.” His grin gets wider. “We’ll all be one big family!”

He feels himself smile in response to that, ducking his head to hide it. “Guess you’re right about that,” he says quietly. Then, he peeks up through his bangs just so he can watch Lance’s reaction. “Does that mean you’ll be their uncle?”

There’s a pause where the question seems to slowly sink in, and then that wide smile is back. “Holy crap! I’ll be an uncle again!” Keith is surprised when he’s pulled into a hug, hearing Lance laugh in his ear as he pats his back. “Thanks!”

After he’s let go and Lance is off bouncing by Hunk’s side, he feels a tug on his arm and glances over at an uncharacteristically serious Coran. “What about the delivery?” he asks in a tone of worry. “I don’t know how we’ll get what we need for it but doing it natural is far too dangerous, you could die.” Coran looks down at his stomach. “You both could.”

That possibility hadn’t really entered his mind and now Keith feels sick at the thought, resting his hand on the area and swallowing. “We’ll talk more when I start to get bigger,” he finally says after staying silent for a bit. “Until then, please don’t bring up these worries to Shiro. I don’t want him to stress over the thought of losing us.”

Although Coran frowns, he still nods in response. “You’ll have to discuss it with him, Keith,” he warns. “Maybe not now but definitely after you form a plan. What if something were to go wrong? All he can do is stand by and watch and that’s not the place he’ll want to be.”

Keith sighs. “I know, I know.”

After another nod, Coran’s expression shifts to a much more exuberant one, clasping Keith’s hands in his own and giving them a shake. “Congratulations, Keith! I’m so happy for you!” he lets go and does a twirl to reach Shiro’s side, giving him the same treatment. “And you too, Shiro! I’m sure the two of you are awfully excited!”

Shiro laughs loudly and Keith wants to bottle up the sound to carry around with him forever so he can always listen to it, basking in the happiness he radiates as he edges closer. “We are,” Shiro says and wraps an arm around Keith when he’s close enough. “I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling since I found out.”

Keith smiles to himself, closing his eyes and feeling so very content.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Honey? I’m home!”

“It’s still not going to stick,” Keith remarks dryly, but he does greet him at the door with a kiss. An arm wraps around his waist, keeping him there to draw it out until they both break apart. He peeks into the bag that Shiro is carrying, smiling more to himself than at Shiro. “You got me sunflower seeds!”

“Of course I did, you asked for them.”

Keith shuts the door when Shiro steps in further, taking the bag from him and leaving him there to take off his boots and jacket. He’s putting the canned food into the cupboards when Shiro embraces him from behind and slips a hand under his shirt, palm spread across his stomach, an action that only makes Keith fondly shake his head before continuing with his task.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Shiro mumbles against his hair once he’s done. “Just me and you.”

Turning so that he’s facing him, Keith offers a teasing smile. “Who else would I go with?” He brings him down for another kiss, placing one hand against his cheek and brushing over his stubble with his thumb. “Hmm.”

“No complaints?”

“I like it this time.” Keith leans forward and presses his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder. “In a bit? I missed you.”

“You’re actually admitting it this time? I’m shocked.”

“Nevermind, you can go for a walk by yourself.”

Shiro only laughs in response and continues to hold him. Keith says nothing more and simply enjoys his embrace, pulling away once he’s gotten his fill and nodding. “Okay, we can go now.”

The sun is starting to set when they step outside, the sky turning from light blue to orange with hints of magenta. There’s a breeze that tickles his skin and he shivers even though he’s wearing a jacket, linking his arm with Shiro’s and pressing against him like that’ll warm him up.

It actually helps.

Keith doesn’t see anyone around and figures that they’ve probably gone back to their own homes. It’s a nice night to be out, sure, but it’s also perfect enough to stay inside with the doors wide open to let the cool air freshen up the house.

Shiro brings them to a stop in front of the fountain in the center of the town and while there’s no water in it or sprouting from the top, it’s still a nice thing to gaze at as they sit down on the benches. The streetlamps around them suddenly flicker on and Keith frowns.

“Why’d they turn it on? It’ll be dark in a bit…”

“I asked them to.”

Keith looks over at him, confused. The feeling only gets stronger when he catches sight of the nervous look on his face, giving Shiro’s hand a squeeze to soothe him. Shiro smiles at him before taking a deep breath and standing up. He tugs on Keith’s hand, obviously indicating for him to follow which Keith does with a sigh.

He waits patiently.

“Keith,” Shiro starts, his voice strong in contrast to the way his body trembles just slightly. “I want to start off by saying that I love you and that you mean the world to me, I can’t imagine life without you at this point.”

“I feel the same.” Keith murmurs, taken aback by the brilliant smile he receives in response. It’s a gorgeous smile, like always, but it’s different this time—happy with a hint of more.

Shiro stares at him for longer before ducking his head, sticking his free hand into the pocket of his jacket and coming out with it curled into a fist. “I’m saying all this because I wanted to ask you something,” he laughs; the breathy, delighted one that Keith loves. “I actually had more things to say but one look at your gorgeous face made me forget all that.”

He swats his arm lightly.

“Okay, okay.”

Here, Shiro raises Keith’s hand and places his fist into it. Slowly, the fingers uncurl and then the hand is pulled away, leaving behind a small, circular shaped object. Keith doesn’t have to look down to know what it is and keeps his gaze on Shiro, who doesn’t look away either.

“Will you—”

Keith cuts him off before he can finish the question, smile spreading across his face. “Yes, Takashi.”

Now he can name the emotion when Shiro’s smile returns: elation, because it’s an emotion he’s currently feeling as well.

“We can’t really have a ceremony, I know, but I still wanted to do this. You’re the one I want to be with, for the rest of my life, and I promise to stay by your side and keep you safe,” he places a hand on Keith’s stomach. “Both of you.”

Shiro then takes it from his hand and slips it onto his ring finger, their smiles never leaving.

A perfect fit.

“I don’t have a ring to give you,” Keith finds himself saying, blinking back his tears. “So I want to tell you that I’ll do the same. I promise to never leave you no matter what and I’ll do everything I can to protect the two of you.” Releasing a small laugh, Keith places his hand on Shiro’s cheek. “You’re my husband,” he whispers with a small smile. “And I love you more than life itself.”

It’s the most he’s ever said in regards to his love for Shiro, usually keeping it to simple I love yous or even expressing it through his kisses, but he doesn’t care. He loves Shiro and this is probably the happiest day of his life.

(He now understands what people meant when they said that.)

“Husband?” Shiro repeats in a dazed tone, leaning into his touch. His eyes fall shut but Keith can still see the tears that start to spill, other hand coming up as he wipes them away. “Hearing you say that makes this a thousand times better.”

“It’s not official until you kiss me,” Keith says teasingly. “I watched a bunch of movies, I know how this goes.”

“You’re so right.”

The kiss is soft and lasts for a long while, full of all the love they both carry for each other, and when Shiro pulls back he can’t help but chase after him for more, feeling the curve of Shiro’s lips as he leans in again and again.

“We can continue this at home, Keith.”

That stops him, the look in Shiro’s eyes sending heat through his body. “Come on, then.” Keith replies, tugging on his hand in an attempt to rush him. There’s no need, though, because Shiro matches his quick pace and they return to their house in no time, tearing each other’s clothes off the moment the door closes.

☆ ☆ ☆

“You made all of this for me?” Keith asks in surprise, staring at the food on the table. It looks better than what they usually eat, presented so beautifully that it makes him smile. There are times when people’s true talents start to shine and this is one of them, Hunk standing across him with a chef apron and beaming in response. “Thank you, really! It all looks good.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Hunk says with a flush, pushing one of the smaller bowls closer to him. “I wanted to help you out and asked Colleen what foods would be good for you and started working with what we have. I know it’s not a lot but you’ll at least get the things you need for your baby.”

This one is full of greens, a hint of a glisten on them that is certainly not water. He gathers up enough on his fork and takes it into his mouth, nose scrunching up when he realizes what it is but then smiling when the sudden flavor hits.

“I used to hate spinach before,” Keith tells Hunk as he stuffs another forkful into his mouth. He waits until he’s swallowed it all to continue speaking, moving his fork around his plate. “Right now it’s really delicious, probably the best thing I ever had.” He grins up at him. “That might be because you prepared it, though.”

Hunk puffs up with pride. “I made my own dressing and added it in, plus it’s mixed with everything else so that’s probably why it tastes good.”

“So, like I said, it’s because you prepared it.”

Hunk only sighs and shakes his head but Keith catches the small smile on his face. He tucks into his food, humming happily at the taste.

Something flutters inside of him.

Keith frowns and ignores it, thinking that it might be his stomach telling him that he’s hungry, and starts to eat some more. Hunk sits across from him and also eats, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence.

It happens again.

He sets his fork down quietly and tries not to draw attention to himself, resting his hand over the spot he felt the movement. Keith doesn’t have to wait too long, feeling another twitch beneath his palm as if responding to his touch.

“Keith? Are you okay?”

He looks up at Hunk, who stares back at him with concern on his face, and blinks in response. “I think,” he starts, licking his lips. “I think I need to go see Colleen? I don’t know if something’s wrong but I want to go anyways just in case.”

Hunk nods once and stands up.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Keith protests when he starts packing up all the food. “I can go by myself!”

“I know you can, but I want to come along so you don’t feel alone.” Hunk says and smiles at him. “I’m your friend, Keith, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Keith is almost overwhelmed by that and has to take a moment to himself, turning away so he can blink away his tears before looking back at him with a small smile. “Then let’s go.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Keith feels a bit silly as he says this, sitting across Colleen and tapping his foot nervously. “There are these weird little flutters happening in my stomach, kind of like,” he pauses and thinks it over. “You know the feeling you get around someone you like?”

“Butterflies?”

“Yeah. It feels like that.”

Colleen gains an amused look on her face. “It was very small, right? You might have felt like you could have missed it if it only happened once?”

Keith nods.

“Place your hand on the spot you felt the flutter,” she directs and smiles when he does it. “Let me know when it happens again, okay?”

“Okay,” he echoes, and right after the word leaves his mouth it’s repeated. “There it is!” Keith frowns down at his stomach and rubs the area. “It doesn’t hurt, though, which is weird.”

“I know what it is.”

He looks up.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” she says as she leans back in her chair. “You’re just feeling your baby moving. This also gives me a rough estimate as to where you are in regards to your pregnancy—twenty weeks, more or less.”

Keith feels frozen, staring at Colleen with wide eyes for several long moments. She only smiles at him as if understanding his surprise and maybe she does, she’s been through this kind of thing before so it would make sense.

Slowly peering down at his stomach again, Keith jumps when he feels another flutter beneath his palm. He releases a small laugh and ignores the way his eyes sting, smiling to himself as he rubs over the spot. “It really is them,” he murmurs to himself. “Wow.”

“Your baby is at the point where they start to hear sound and in a few more weeks they’ll even start to respond to your voice.”

“They can hear me? Will they be able to hear Shiro?”

“Yes to both.”

The laugh that escapes is a lot more watery than expected, vision blurry for some reason. “I’ll be able to feel it more distinctly as time passes, right?” Keith asks her with a small smile. “Feet kicking and hands pushing, I mean.”

“Probably,” Colleen slides a box of tissues close to him and he pulls one out when she’s looking away, still turning his face and wiping at his eyes. “Stretching and rolling too, they just love to be active in there. Hopefully you get some sleep when that starts happening.”

“Oh god,” Keith mutters. “Shiro already keeps me up and now my baby will too? No more sleep for me.”

Colleen laughs.

☆ ☆ ☆

He doesn’t get to tell Shiro yet because he’s told to go out on a week-long run with some of the Marmora members, something he complains about when he’s lying face down on the bed while Keith searches their closet for clothes.

“I wanted to stay here,” Shiro practically whines out, muffled and sad. “Wanted to spend time with you.”

“They need you out there, Shiro,” he replies, pulling out Shiro’s black jacket and tossing it onto the bed. He follows that up with a dark purple shirt, figuring he could wear the jeans he already has on. “You can’t stay back because of me, so get up and get dressed, you’re going.”

Shiro lifts his head and pouts.

Keith raises an eyebrow.

Thirty minutes later, he’s pushing Shiro through the door. He holds a hand up in Lance’s direction to tell him to wait, peering up at Shiro with a smile. “Bring me back something?”

Shiro leans down to kiss him. “I’ll surprise you.”

“Good.” Keith pulls him down for a few more, only letting go when he hears Lance’s loud cough. “Be safe.”

“I will.” One more kiss. “Love you.”

Shiro leaves after that, looking back a few times to wave back at Keith which he happily returns. Keith only goes back inside when the gates close behind him, wondering what he’ll do in his time of solitude.

With each passing day, he ends up feeling secretly glad that Shiro’s gone away. It gives their child the time to develop even more, the fluttering in his stomach seemingly growing stronger and stronger until Keith is able to actually feel the movements beneath his hand.

It’s exhilarating.

When Shiro comes back, right on time, Keith is dozing off on their bed. He’s fully awake by the time the door to their room opens, the sight of him bringing great joy. “Welcome home.”

Shiro responds by collapsing on the bed beside him.

“Long day?” Keith asks with a grin while lightly tugging on Shiro’s hair. Shiro answers with a simple groan and he laughs, gently running his fingers through it instead. “Got everything you need?”

“And more.”

“Find anything good?”

“Got some clothes for you and our little one,” Shiro answers, shifting so his head is closer to his stomach. “You won’t be fashionable but at least you’ll be warm and that’s all that matters to me.”

He feels a sort of tumbling movement this time, far different from the flutters he felt before, and feels his smile grow softer. “What else did you get?” Keith wants to keep the conversation going to see if their baby will respond to Shiro’s voice again. “Anything special?”

“More sunflower seeds.”

“And you didn’t bring them to the room with you?”

“I don’t want sunflower seeds all over the bed! Also, I wanted to spend some time with you.” Shiro moves back up and smiles down at him. “I missed you.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You were only gone for a week,” he still leans up to kiss him quick, not surprised when he’s pushed back down so it can be deepened. He’s left out of breath when they part and flicks Shiro’s nose when he spots the smug look on his face, brushing his fingers along the scruff he sports. “I missed you too, dork, even though you have this hideous thing.”

Shiro’s smile grows wider and Keith tilts his head back when he starts kissing at his neck, releasing a content sigh as he cups Shiro’s cheeks so he can bring his face up to kiss him. That’s when he remembers his plan, pushing Shiro back and looking at him seriously.

“Before we do anything, I need to show you something.”

He grabs Shiro’s left hand and, ignoring his confused look, places it on his stomach. Nothing is said as they continue to stare at each other, Keith waiting for his reaction and Shiro with a furrow in his brows, and then it happens.

The same movement as before, both strange and wonderful to feel, and Keith watches as shock appears on Shiro’s face. His touch grows a bit firmer, pushing against his stomach lightly like that’ll cause their child to respond, and his expression shifts to wonder when they do.

“Keith!” Shiro says, sounding breathless. “That’s—!”

“Yeah,” he replies with a smile. “I know.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“A while now, mostly all flutters at first but now it’s evolved to what feels like a roll.” The baby responds again and he shifts on the bed, adoration flooding through him at the soft expression Shiro wears as he strokes over the skin reverently. “Colleen says they can hear sound at this point, which means all your chattering will be heard by them.”

Shiro meets his gaze with wide eyes. “They can hear me?”

“Yup,” He pops the p of the word. “A lot of the movements happened because I was talking out loud, and even right now because you were too.”

“Does it feel weird?”

“It does, but,” Keith licks his lips and shrugs, smile turning sheepish. “I kinda like it too? It reminds me that they’re okay in there, safe, and that they’ll remain that way even when they come out because all of us will be here.”

After sliding down to kiss Keith’s stomach, Shiro moves up so he’s hovering over him. There’s a happy tilt to his lips, one that turns into a smile when Keith leans up to kiss him. He tries to keep it slow and sweet but heat starts to build up within him, and he’s soon deepening the kiss, spreading his legs so Shiro can settle between them.

“Want me?” Shiro murmurs, kissing along his jaw. “I want you.”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes out as he tilts his head back, shivering when lips drag along his throat next. “I do, I really do.” He jolts when Shiro bites down on his skin, instinctively rolling his hips against Shiro’s. “Takashi, I need you.”

Nothing more is said as their clothes come off, Keith clutching at his bicep with one hand while the other covers his mouth and Shiro’s metal hand gripping at his hip when he pushes in. They get lost in each other, intoxicating and overwhelming, and don’t bother to leave the bed for the rest of the night.

☆ ☆ ☆

His baby bump becomes a lot more prominent as the weeks pass, his chest and feet also growing in the same time span. When he complained about the latter, Coran returned from a small supply run and handed over two pairs of slippers that made walking around the house ten times easier.

There’s nothing that can be done about his chest, though, so he’s taken to wearing Shiro’s shirts. While the heaviness and discomfort is still there, they’re at least practically hidden because of how big Shiro’s tops are.

Diapers, powder milk, and many other baby supplies start taking up space in their home. The spare bedroom has been cleared out to make room for all the baby furniture, though they do place a bassinet in their own room so the baby can sleep there until they outgrow it. All of it makes Keith feel more excited than usual, a sense of peaceful normality wrapping itself around him that helps him forget how the world really is.

Only sometimes, though.

The baby shower was nothing more than a small dinner like he asked for, prepared by Hunk, with streamers hanging up all around the building. Gifts were given after everyone finished eating and he had gotten one box of diapers and wipes from each person, along with their gift for the baby. They also wrote down the place they got it from, in case they’ll need to get more.

Sam had responded to his questioning look. “Sometimes kids will latch onto a toy or blanket and it’s always better to prepare for it by getting a couple extra when they do. It was harder before because some things were no longer in store but at least you’ll be able to get another now should you need it.”

It all feels a lot more real when the Marmora members stop by for a visit, their stares unnerving when Coran brings Keith with him to greet them.

“I can help you with the delivery,” Ulaz suddenly says after sharing a glance with Kolivan, stepping forward and looking only at Keith. “I’ll even stay here with the rest of you to make sure everything up to the day is perfectly fine, and then some after.”

“Sounds like we should talk about this in private,” Keith comments, nodding to Kolivan and Antok before turning around. “We can do that at Colleen’s office.”

The discussion is actually very short, Ulaz saying that he can go out to the nearest clinic and grab more medical equipment there and Colleen agreeing with him, tacking on that he should bring back one of the beds there.

Keith just nods along to the conversation.

“What about anesthesia?” Coran cuts in. “The delivery is going to be a lot harder without it, doable yes but still difficult—especially since it’s your first time doing this, Keith.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to get you the kind you need,” Ulaz says apologetically. “It’s not in any local stores or clinics and the nearest hospital is nearly fifty miles out, overrun with too many infected.”

“Then I’ll make do,” Keith shrugs. “Natural births happen all the time, right? I should be good as long as I have all of you around to help.”

With nothing more to discuss, everyone simply sits around while eating the sandwiches Colleen had made. Keith has no more concerns over what will happen in the future, firmly believing that he can do the natural delivery and come out okay.

Still, there is one thing he wants to say.

“Wait,” he says as they start getting up to leave. “I have a request to make.”

Keith has thought this over several times, mostly when Shiro was asleep beside him and he was still awake because their child decided that rolling around was the best thing to do in those moments. Coran leans forward across from him and when Keith meets his gaze he can see the worry residing there.

“If something goes wrong,” Keith starts and holds up a hand when Ulaz starts to speak. “I know you’ve gotten all that we need but let me say this, please?” He waits for them to settle again before continuing, resolute in his decision. “If something goes wrong, then I want you to do all you can to get my baby out of me, which probably means you’ll have to cut me open to do so.”

“That contains a lot of risk,” Ulaz says with a frown. “If we have to resort to that then you may not survive the process.”

“I know,” he replies, hand rubbing over his stomach. Keith has thought of that too. “And I don’t care, I only care about them.”

☆ ☆ ☆

He gets to the point where every movement requires more effort than usual. Keith also feels tired all the time and so off-balance that he also ends up frustrated with how clumsy he’s gotten. Colleen forces him to rest and even tells Shiro that he’s not allowed to do anything besides short walks around the house.

Keith can’t even find a comfortable-enough position to sleep in, which leaves him feeling grumpier than usual in the mornings.

One day he’s too restless to just sit in bed for the rest of it, all alone in the house since Shiro was called out by Sam, so he decides to try his luck and walk around the house and even venturing outside for a bit. This is when Shiro returns, looking ashen.

“What’s wrong?” Keith asks and allows himself to be pulled into an embrace. “Did something happen?

“Matt got bit,” Shiro croaks out, his tense posture remaining even as they continue to hug. “It’s on the leg so I have to go back with the axe and help cut it off.”

Keith pushes him into the house. “What are you waiting for? Go!”

There’s no kiss goodbye when Shiro leaves after retrieving the axe but he doesn’t care, far too worried about their friend and hoping that they manage to get it off in time. He wants to head over there himself but what can he do besides stand in the way? So, he goes back into the house and tries to busy himself with making food.

He’s gotten hungrier now.

Right as he exits the room he ends up dropping his meal when the door is pushed open and an infected shows its face.

Keith definitely can’t move like he used to and there’s no way he can run from the infected either, so he walks backwards into the kitchen and reaches behind him for one of the knives. He presses himself against the counter so his back has some support, eyes unblinking at the doorway as he waits.

A few seconds later it stumbles in, slow at first and speeding up at the sight of Keith. His heart is pounding and he feels his child move restlessly in response. “Come on,” he murmurs with a grin. “Just a little bit closer.”

It trips on something and falls forward.

He manages to sink the knife into its shoulder rather than its head before he moves out of the way, not even bothering to look as its attempts to push itself up. Kicking at one of the decayed claws, Keith makes his way out as fast as he can and heads to the bedroom. He searches through all the drawers and keeps an ear out for the clumsy footsteps, gasping in delight when he finally finds his old pistol, and checks to see if it’s loaded.

Only two bullets left.

Keith exits the bedroom and shuts the door behind him, breathing hard and clutching at the gun with both hands. There’s a pain in his lower back that throbs in time with his racing heart but he pays it no mind—he can deal with it after, when they’re both safe.

The infected steps into view.

He aims and fires, watching it drop to the floor with immense satisfaction. One hand falls to his stomach, rubbing over it soothingly like that’ll help his baby settle down. “Sorry,” he murmurs and starts walking towards the front door, wanting to close it. “It’s okay now, you’re okay.”

Surprisingly enough, it works, and after one last roll they seem to calm down.

After shutting the door he drops down onto the couch in the living room, setting the gun aside so he can continue to rub his palm and fingers across his stomach. The soreness is still there but slowly disappearing because he’s finally resting and he soon finds himself dozing off, the fear from before finally wearing off.

The door opens, forcing him to sit up straight and grab the gun again.

“Keith?”

A smile overtakes his face. “I’m on the couch.” he calls out. “And I’m okay, really. Nothing happened to me.”

Shiro steps into view and the look of relief on his face makes his heart ache. He holds his arms out and Shiro practically falls into them, mindful of his stomach, and he feels the way he trembles just so. Keith rubs a hand across his back and presses a kiss to his head, letting him have this moment.

“I heard the gunshot and I ran over here as fast as I could,” He hears him say. “The gate wasn’t closed properly so a few infected managed to enter but we took care of them before anyone could get hurt.”

So that’s where it came from. “How’s Matt doing?”

“He’ll be okay, maybe. He passed out when we started on his leg.” Shiro leans back, looking tired as hell but still smiling. “I think we stopped it from spreading, though, so he should survive.”

Keith leans forward so he can kiss the scar across his nose, laughing when he sees his nose scrunch up in response. “Do you have to go back?” he asks, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze when Shiro nods. “I can come with you, keep you company.”

“That would be nice.”

Shiro helps him up and normally he’d bat his hand away because he can do it himself but this time he doesn’t, knowing the other man needs this. He lets go only to go to their small closet in the hall and grab Keith’s jacket, waiting by his side as Keith pulls it on.

“Ready?”

He’s about to answer when there’s suddenly a small pop within him, unheard but definitely felt. The trickle of liquid that comes out afterwards floods him with embarrassment, thinking that he pissed himself (which wasn’t a problem at all during his pregnancy), but when it doesn’t stop he realizes what is actually happening.

There’s concern in Shiro’s voice. “Keith? What’s wrong?”

Keith looks up at him with wide eyes. “I think my water just broke.”

☆ ☆ ☆

The contractions come moments later, at first similar to the pain he’d been feeling earlier (and that’s when he learns that they probably were the same thing) and then later become a dull ache that leave him feeling uncomfortable as he lies in the provided bed.

Both Colleen and Ulaz had said that he wasn’t fully dilated so, despite the fact that he was so ready to get the baby out of him now and be done with the contractions, he wasn’t able to push just yet.

The discomfort only increases as time passes, the need to get his child out of him growing stronger and becoming a lot more physical. He pushes himself up to sit, glaring up at Shiro who tries to push him back down. “Let me up, Takashi.” he mutters. “I have to push.”

“I don’t know if you’re ready yet,” Shiro says. “Lay back and wait for Ulaz and Colleen, they’ll let you know.”

Keith shakes his head and finally manages to stand up, turning so he can clutch at the railing on the bed. “I can’t wait anymore, it has to happen now.”

There’s silence after that, where Keith can practically feel Shiro’s worry radiating off of him, but he ignores it for now and instead focuses on taking deep breaths. He grits his teeth and ducks his head when he starts trying to push, wildly reaching out with one hand and gripping the one that Shiro offers to him.

The other one starts rubbing his back, a welcome touch while his body is going through so much strain. He’s been told that pushing is supposed to feel like a relief but it only brings forth pain and a sense of wrongness in the general area.

He gasps for breath.

“Keith?”

Shaking his head, Keith tries again. There’s another trickle this time, oozing down his leg and feeling nothing like the liquid from before. He squeezes his eyes shut when the pain gets stronger, a scream leaving his mouth when it becomes too much.

The door bursts open right as it ends and he looks at them blearily. He recognizes them as Ulaz and Colleen but only when he’s laying down on the bed again (how did he get there?) and staring up at their faces.

“Something’s not right,” Colleen is saying, panic and worry in her words. There are hands on his legs, gently spreading them apart and sending more pain through him. Keith digs his nails into his palm and tries to breathe through it, doing his best to stay present. “I don’t think we can wait around for much longer, Keith, so I need to know if you still want to go through with your plan B.”

“Plan B?” Shiro asks, appearing at his side. “What’s plan B?”

Keith doesn’t look at him, keeping his eyes on Colleen and nodding his head. When she leaves he finally looks over at Shiro and it takes a while to focus on him, taking in his panicked expression and only offering a weak smile. “It’ll be okay,” he says in an attempt to reassure him, voice coming out soft and slow. “They’ll be fine.”

“What does that mean?” Shiro whispers and Keith reaches out to grab his hand, holding it in his own and rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. “What are they going to do?”

He turns his head towards the ceiling. “Cut me open,” he answers, gaze flitting around the room to see the other two coming closer with their equipment. “Can’t push and I don’t want to lose the baby.” Keith swallows, not wanting to tell Shiro that he might not survive the process. “You don’t have to stay here, it might be hard to watch.”

“I’m not leaving your side.”

Ulaz speaks up. “Are you ready, Keith?”

Keith nods and then looks over at Shiro again, eyes welling up but no tears spilling out. “I love you, Takashi.” he says quietly, in case it might be the last time he’ll get to say it. “I love you so much.”

If Shiro replies he doesn’t hear it, drowned out by his own scream when they finally cut into him. It hurts, god does it hurt, and Keith clutches Shiro’s hand through the pain. He stops halfway through his second one with a choked gasp, tossing his head back when it increases.

“Keith?” Someone is saying, warm hands touching his clammy skin and tilting his face their way. “Don’t close your eyes, okay? You can survive this, I know you can, so keep fighting.” It’s Shiro, of course it is, and his voice is so shaky. “I’m here, baby, I’m here. I won’t leave.”

He feels something being pulled out of him, something wet splattering across his stomach and thighs, and the sound of a baby crying seconds later. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard and he feels his own tears start to spill, eyes fluttering shut as he smiles.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” Shiro is pleading with him but it sounds so far away. He clings to his voice, to their baby crying, as he’s being pulled into darkness. “Don’t leave me, Keith.” Shiro’s voice breaks. “I need you—we both do—so please, open your eyes!”

“Takashi,” he manages to slur out. “Tak…”

Then, nothing.

[memoriashell]

hey i really like you ( can we go out? )

Characters /  Pairing: Fukawa Touko / Naegi Komaru, techincally some background Ishimaru / Oowada, Makoto gets a few lines, and Syo’s present for a bit in the begining.

crossposted on ao3

Notes: hello here's your late day five of @tokomaruweek​ week!! valentine's day prompt!!

the format for the texting section might look a little funky on tumblr since there’s no easy way of aligning right side / left side text but hopefully it’s obvious enough who’s texting what.

heads up i'll be skipping day 6 for now probably! i’ll come back to it when i’ve finished the rest of the week, i just might get stuck on it for a hot minute and i’d like to get the rest of the week out of the way first since i'm already behind.

anyways it's probably also noteworthy to mention that this drabble works on the basis you have a basic understanding of the cultural differences in how japan celebrates valentine's day. i was originally going to try and incorporate white day into this drabble instead of just mentioning it but i wasn’t super happy with how this one was turning out anyways and figured it was best to just get this out as it is!!

i also feel like i should clarify bc that i realize the way i characterize toko in everything this week has made it seems like she hates kiyotaka’s guts but honestly i think they’d be real close!! i really like them as two outsider kids who can relate to each other. they are two sides of the same narrative coin and in this essay i will /j anyways please understand she rags on him from a place of ( platonic ) LOVE. and also bc they r both my cc’s i could never be that mean to either of them. well. no meaner than canon is to them.

edit: forgot tws. nothing super huge bc it's mostly fluff, but it does refrence bullying ( although would you consider faked love confessions / etc as bullying? it's just cruel :( anyways. )

Summary:  valentine's day has never been good for ugly girls ( and hopeless romantics ) like her. 

Valentine's Day. Every girl’s least favorite day.

Or, well, at the very least, her least favorite. Uh, one of her least favorite holidays? Then again, it’s not like Touko really has a ‘favorite’ in the first place, so maybe her point is moot— but she’s getting side tracked here.

One would presume that a romantic like her, an author who writes romance for a living, would live for a holiday that's practically centered around love and romance, but they would be wrong. It’s a miserable reminder of a day for her who has practically been scorned by the idea of relationships. It is a bitter reminder of failed loves and societal norms that she’s never been able to meet.

( Ugly. Rude. Awkward. Unsociable. So what if they’re right? Who is she to tell them they’re wrong? )

If it is not for the fact that she is pretty sure Ishimaru will be at her door if she doesn’t show up, she would probably skip class today. Oh, to be a confident gay man on Valentine's Day and not a closeted lesbian who feels the need to meet heteronormative societal norms. It’s unfair because not only is he ( mostly ) unaffected by this kind of holiday, he’s probably one of the people who care the least about the delicate social intricacies ( and romanticism ) of a holiday like this one. If nothing else, so she can’t say she envies the position this puts Oowada in, because Ishimaru would probably just see this as a learning moment. Anyways before she sounds too envious of her peers for getting their shit together, she just wants it to be unknown that she thinks it’s really unfair that he would get to judge her reasons for wanting to skip school.

( Actually, if she fessed up the deep-seated issues related to why she’d rather not have to be present on a day like today, the last thing he’d do it judge but that’s not really something she wants to acknowledge right now )

Moving on.

Despite the fact that, internally, she is making a fuss about a holiday, she suspects that most of her class probably doesn’t really care about these things. That doesn't mean she feels any less pressured to conform. It’s not like any of them would want chocolates from someone like her anyways, so it’s not like she really needs to be worried...

It’s not the end of the world, stop being such a debbie downer! Syo butts in, ever so helpful. By which she means is very, very unwanted and unhelpful. All the same, they ( unfortunately ) have a point and if she has to put up with this shitty day then at the very least she’d like to have breakfast before someone sees fit to break down her door.

You technically don’t have to do anything. Syo sounds almost too enthusiastic to help with the ‘issue’ at hand.

Using you to escape my problems isn’t always a viable strategy. Touko rebukes. Nor is it a choice, usually.

Only because you try and make yourself as miserable as possible by making things worse for you.

She has nothing to say to that, and instead focuses on braiding her hair to be passably presentable.

“Fukawa-san?” Oh, what she wouldn’t give to not have to hear her name today. Granted, Touko doesn’t think hearing her name being called on any given day is usually a good sign, but it still feels too early in the day to willingly put up with anything and shoots a glare at Naegi, standing in front of her desk. It probably doesn’t help that he sounds nervous for some godforsaken reason, but that’s technically not out of the ordinary, and she’s pretty sure Syo has something to do with that. “Sorry, uh...I was going to try and catch you at your locker this morning, but I guess I must’ve missed you, huh?”

She gives him the most deadpan, withering stare she can muster at the moment as if to say obviously. She’d even turned up to class early because she figured that dealing with whoever else would be in class would be more manageable than having to deal with anything going on in the halls ( because Hope’s Peak is not a normal school and god knows if something can go wrong, it will, and she is not having any of it today ). She assumed that if she looked busy, anyone with any common sense would leave her alone, but Makoto is not the brightest, clearly.

It still kind of throws her for a loop, however, that he chooses to approach her today, of all days. If she were anyone else, or if this exchange happened in any other context, she is sure that him acting like this on Valentine's Day would seem like it was setting up for a love confession. If it weren’t for the fact that Naegi already had a partner so, that’s probably not an issue— not that that would be a theoretical issue, because hey it’s not like Naegi was likely to be the kind of person cruel enough to fake a love confession. That’s definitely not something that’s happened to Touko before and gotten her hopes up only to be horribly crushed and definitely not the reason she’s been particularly defensive today. Nope.

( Yeah, okay, she’s not fooling anyone, but thankfully the only one aware of this is herself. And Syo, but both of these things are clear givens )

It occurs to her that Naegi hasn’t said anything, waiting for her to say something to him, and she grits her teeth irritably. “Wh-What? Spit it out already.”

“Err...are you...” He starts to say something and then seems to think better of it, sheepishly ducking his head for a moment before holding a bag out to her. “Sorry. Komaru asked me to bring these to you. Kirigiri-san had to convince her to not try and sneak into the main building just to bring these to you herself.”

It takes a long minute for her to process what he says before snatching the bag from his grip and holding it close to herself. Friendship chocolates...? That’s probably what’s in the bag. Which is a pretty nice thought in itself— Touko doesn’t usually get gifts like this. It almost makes her not want to touch the bag and ruin the illusion, refrain from eat whatever’s in the bag: but honestly if she doesn’t, Syo will probably make sure to savor it, so she won’t even pretend like that’s an option.

( There’s a part of her that feels a little guilty too, that she hadn’t even considered that Komaru might do something like this and have something prepared for her in return, but if she’d made something and not gotten anything then she’d look like a fool, and it’s not like she would’ve been able to get it to her easily anyways, so she really shouldn’t feel guilty about accepting it, but— )

“I’m glad you like it. She was kind of worried about how you’d take it.” Naegi speaking breaks through her current train of thought and is he still standing here? Had she been stupidly smiling to herself? How embarrassing!

“It’s n-n-not like that...and what kind of person do, do you take me for, anyways...!” Well, if she had been showing any sort of positive emotion on her face, she isn’t anymore. Touko takes this as an opportunity to shove the bag into her book bag, before anyone can notice. For some reason, he looks vaguely disappointed. “I was...ugh, I was just th-thinking that it was surprising she’d trust you with it given the, the track record with how your l-luck turns out!”

Makoto opens his mouth to refute this but thank god someone calls his name from the doorway, and she takes that opportunity goes back to her books before he can try and say anything further to her.

touko-chan!!!!

makoto said he gave you my gift successfully so i know u got it

i think

i didn’t expect u to thank me or anything but it’d be nice

pls tell me u got it right

did u at least read the note i left in there for u

Does Komaru not have homework, or what? She could at least give her a few minutes to try and get a word in. It’s not her fault math is a bitch and Touko is too stubborn to maybe talk to one of her peers into explaining the subject to her.

                                                     Yes, by some miracle I did manage to get it.

                                             ��                                                               Thanks.

                                                                                        You’re a good friend.

                                                                                                               Sorry.

                                                                                         Is that all? I’m busy.

That is not all, apparently, because Komaru forgoes texting to call her directly. If it were anyone else, she’d ignore it; but since it’s her she figures she can probably talk and do math at the same time.

“So you didn’t check the bag at all?” Komaru speaks before she can even consider greeting her, and Touko rolls her eyes despite the fact that she cannot see it.

“Hello to y-you too. Uh…honestly, I shoved it in my bag earlier and...and haven’t checked on it since. I assumed it was j-j-just candy, and it’s probably safer hid from Syo there.”

“Ugh! I told Makoto to mention to you that I put something else in there. And there’s a box for Syo in there too!” She can practically hear her pouting through the phone line. “Well, uh— I guess that’s fine since you’re busy...? Just check it when you get the chance, okay? Please? I promise it’ll make sense.”

“I got it, I got it. I’ll take a break once I finish this up and check it out. Good enough for you?”

“Mhm! Thank you Touko-chan! I’ll let you go now, so you can focus. Bye!” If Touko wasn’t mistaken ( but probably is ), she sounded almost nervous, the way her words come out in one rushed breath.

Admittedly, now she’s too intrigued by whatever had Komaru pressed enough to make sure she was aware of it, and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to focus now, so...opening the bag it is. She grumbles and groans to herself for a moment, stretching as she gets up from her desk to grab her bag.

She hadn’t really noticed at the time, but now that she thinks about it, there’s some definite weight to this thing, more than she’d expect from some candies ( even now knowing that apparently Komaru had accounted for Syo as well ). Not much though, and she probably would’ve just passed it off for the box the sweet is stored in if she were to really think about it, but now she figures that’s probably not the case. Touko peeks inside the bag a little hesitantly— curiosity wins out over anxiety in the end, and spots what appears to be a small booklet along with a box of chocolates.

Oh god.

She braces herself because, this is probably some kind of manga if she knows Komaru and ( unfortunately ) not a mini-novella but otherwise has no idea what to expect. And once she opens it, she has to thank whatever higher being made sure Makoto didn’t say a thing to her about it because there’s absolutely no way she would have been able to keep a straight face if she’d looked at this in class.

One, she forgot how generally talented Komaru was at this type of stuff. Obviously, still room for improvement, but not nearly as bad as Touko would have thought. Two, this is not really a manga, but a fucking thinly veiled love confession, complete with the most casual ‘Hey I really like you, can we go out?’ Third, she’s extremely glad Komaru did not insist on being on the phone while she checked this out because she does not think she can coherently answer that right now.

In fact, it takes Touko a good half hour to calm herself down enough before she can even consider texting her a response. There’s no way she’s embarrassing herself any further by calling her about it, even if that might have been a more meaningful exchange, but like Komaru just confessed to her through manga so clearly they’re already past that point.

                                                                                                     You’re a dork.

                                           I hate that you’re using your talents for this though.

:)

thats not a no?

                                                                                                          Not a yes.

                         Very tempted to make it a no for making me suffer through this.

touko-chan;;;;;

be gentle to my poor heart if ur gonna reject me :(

                                                                                              Ugh. I was kidding.

                                                                                                      Yes you idiot.

                                                    Just don’t use manga for this stuff next time?

ok!!!!! :)

actually i promise nothing

lol sorry ♡

                                                                                                  You’re the worst.

hehehehehe >:)

i love you too!!

are you busy this week??

let’s meet up!!!

                                             Some of us care about our grades. As should you.

                                                            But Thursday and Friday are lighter days.

                                                                      Yeah yeah. I like you or something.

thank uuuuu ♡♡♡

She chews on her lip as she rereads the message and mulls over it as she tries to ignore the flip-flop of her stomach. It’ll be fine. She’ll just aim to have something planned out for White Day in return.

[writeraquamarinara]

i’m at least five days late to doing this but the darling @iconic-ponytail tagged me with this question. sorry for taking forever, and thanks for tagging me <3

fanfic reader/ writer that got you into reading? and writing? who got you into writing and/or reading? first fic you read and/or wrote? last fic you read and/or wrote? 

My best friend and I were fairly obsessed with the percy jackson series as middle schoolers, so I think around sixth or seventh grade she introduced me to a few pjo stories on ff dot net, but my enjoyment of fanfic didn’t really stick at that point, for multiple reasons:

ff.net's formatting makes me want to gouge my eyeballs out. even at that age, not having any other sites or archives to compare it to, i couldn’t stand it.

(prepare yourselves) halfway through seventh grade, one of our other best friends started lying to us about anything and everything, culminating in her creating a fake email account and sending us hurtful, accusatory messages from this fake person’s perspective. in order to prove that a) this person was fake and b) she was writing the emails herself, i found her ff dot net account and started reading her stories/author’s notes, the young sleuth i was. i then pulled snippets of her writing to compare to the prose in the emails, definitively proved she was lying/gaslighting us, and broke our friendship. i think ff, in my mind, was associated with her after that.

i was more into reading original novels at that time in my life, idk

I got back into fic when I was sixteen, during the first season of Riverdale, when I would watch the episode in clips on YouTube after it aired live (because pirate when u can, bb) while doing homework at my desk. I really loved Bughead starting episode 3 and was absolutely shocked by episode 6 (i watched their first kiss scene on repeat for at least an hour, and i’ve mentioned before that i start crying any time i hear that song). I would watch clip compilations and episode reviews/murder-mystery-theory videos on YouTube at night, and some google searching eventually lead me to Bughead fanfic on AO3. I really can’t remember what the first Bughead fic I read was. If I had to guess, it was either Fall in Light by @sylwrites or Something to Tell You by @findingbetty. honestly, though, i might just be misremembering, and those two aren’t the first fics i read but rather fics from that time that left a huge impression on me.

after, i want to say, a year of purely reading and commenting on fic, I decided to try my hand at writing my own multi-chapter (it’s still up, actually, and surprisingly has a higher hit count than a lot of my better works, lol). there was a period of time in which i’d given up writing this fic (and writing fic in general), but then I decided to finally make a tumblr and start writing again, and now we’re here. 

The last fic I wrote is the newest update of Pride and Publishing, and I honestly can’t remember what I last read. I kind of gave up reading Bughead fanfiction in the last year (a complete 180 from that first year of just reading fanfic when i would refresh the AO3 tag every day and read pretty much everything). I guess I don’t feel as much of a need to connect to these characters that way anymore? Idk. but if I come across a fic/update post on tumblr by an author i love then I’ll definitely read it (s/o to @ithoughtyoulikedmereckless, @heartunsettledsoul, @iconic-ponytail, @sullypants, @imreallyloveleee, and a ton of other authors i’m forgetting).

tagging: @bigdsgirl, @redundantoxymorons, @anniemurphys, @panalegs27, @catthecoder, and anyone else already tagged in this post who’d like to participate. or even if you aren’t tagged, just say i tagged you. and if you’ve done it already, pls ignore me, lol

[grimmseye]

A Bird in the Hand: Chapter Six

Read on Ao3 here!

Rating: T

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (eventual)

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Molly Rez, Amnesiac Mollymauk, Oh My God They Were Roommates, Existential Topics, Essek getting excited by both Mollymauk and his weird magic, Mention of Torture (in literally like the first sentence)

— — —

The scars littering Mollymauk's body weren't a result of torture, as Essek had first assumed. Blood magic was still fairly taboo, but he knew it had its merits. The life force was a powerful source of magic, and drawing blood was safer than drawing directly from the soul.

Most blood magic came in alteration and control. One could use their own blood to change themself, to augment their power by manipulating the force that defined them. Or, they could take another's essence, claim it and use it to collar its source. Blood made scrying simple and curses into child's play. It was a very useful component, and Essek preferred to stay quiet about his own applications of it.

What Mollymauk did, he theorized, had to do with sacrifice. There was power in that, too. The giving-up, the exchange of something to gain, or to take from another, was a form of magic that dated back to its most ancient roots. Before there was wizardry, druids, artificers, those who learned their craft and honed it through study and training, there were those who made pacts with something else.

The question then became what Mollymauk was sacrificing to. A god, a demon, a devil? Or simply to the Weave itself, using his blood as the guidelines to tangle its threads in new formations.

It was all very exciting.

So was watching Mollymauk, though he was ashamed to admit it. He hadn't asked the tiefling to undress, but Mollymauk had been more than happy to divest himself of his shirt. It left him in loose pants, the material fluttering in the cool wind that blew past. He'd taken up blades in Essek's backyard at Essek's own request. One of his swords was wet with his blood, and illuminated with a radiant glow.

The radiance took a point away from Mollymauk contacting of the negative planes, though Essek knew better than to negate it completely. Tieflings had infernal heritages, it was entirely possible that all the oddities of Mollymauk's body were tied to a single source. It was doubtful, but it was also worth noting.

Essek did just that, writing down his thoughts, knowing he'd be glad to have them later. A stream of consciousness on a page was better than neat and tidy notes that lacked detail and most importantly context. He seethed when thinking of the number of projects he'd had to abandon all because he hadn't marked down a late-night thought.

"You have another of these, you said," Essek prompted. "The other sword does not use radiance?" It was difficult to look at the blade directly with its sunlit glow.

Mollymauk twirled one scimitar with an idle air, catching it in his palm. "Yeah. Ice for that one."

Essek moved forward, wanting a close look. He muttered a word, burning the first-level slot to sharpen his gaze to magic. "Activate it, please."

Without missing a beat, Molly obeyed. It made his insides shiver to see the blade come up, cutting neatly into his skin. It was shallow and precise, drawing a scarlet line along the edge of the blade that beaded and dripped over Mollymauk's collar. Molly held it still against his chest for Essek to watch as the blood crystallized, frost crawling over the surface of the blade. It was evocation that brought the ice to the surface, and that brimmed off the blade's glowing twin.

A hint of necromancy burned in Molly's blood, and suddenly Essek had the thought: what would he find if he drew some from Mollymauk's veins, was the blood under his skin inherently magical was he built from necrotic energy, he'd crawled his way out of a grave so what did that make him. Surely he wasn't undead, or the way magic interacted with him would change, the spells Essek had cast on him wouldn't work, but he couldn't count as mortal, either.

So what on earth was Mollymauk Tealeaf? The question had a giddy sensation roiling up in his stomach.

"What's up with your eyes?" Mollymauk asked, and Essek blinked back to himself.

It took a moment to remember what he meant. The spell gave his eyes a kaleidoscopic appearance, reflecting colors that shifted madly in the presence of magic. "Ah. I cast a spell on myself, it lets me sense magic in the vicinity. Do you know about the different schools of magic?"

Mollymauk closed his eyes, arms swinging at his sides so the sword blades dragged in the dirt. "... No," he concluded, with a definitive nod. "I really don't know shit about magic as a whole. I don't know why or how this happens, but cutting myself makes my swords fancy."

Essek remembered the way blood had burst in a gnoll's eyes, blinding them, making the snap of their jaws only seize the air. "Is there anything else you can do?" He pressed.

Mollymauk gave him a long, withering look, and snorted. "Wizards. They tell you I know a place and then spend the time quizzing you about your blood curses. Yeah, if I cut a bit deeper, I can affect other... things. People, monsters, whatever. It's only temporary, but it can be enough in a pinch. If someone's about to get run through with a sword..."

Mollymauk's gaze went distant. His breath hitched, and he lifted a hand, putting it on the ragged scar on his chest. "It might be enough to throw them off."

Essek let him linger, uncertain what had captured his mind but hoping that maybe this would help unlock the rest of his memories. If he could return Mollymauk to the Nein, safe and happy and just as they'd found him, then maybe he could relieve the weight of his guilt. If bad and good were opposites, then surely if he just did enough good, that would eventually outweigh the bad.

He knew that logic was flawed. If that were the case, then the teleportations would have eased the pressure. But that was small, not necessarily easy for him but simple enough, something he could do for anyone. This was different. This was special. This would mean something, and then he could be forgiven, even if they never knew of his betrayal.

Eventually, clarity returned to Mollymauk's eyes. He shook himself, his expression pensive and tail coiling. Essek prompted him with a quirk of the eyebrow. Each time this happened, there was the hope that maybe he was fixed at last. And as was true each previous time, it didn't seem to be so — Mollymauk only gave a yawn and stretched his arms out, mindless of the blades he held. "So, yeah. Blood curses. Can't exactly demonstrate them without a target, though."

Essek sighed, but let himself be swept into a new focus. In time, he soothed himself. Mollymauk would regain his mind in time. Regardless, letting the memories filter back gradually seemed to treat Mollymauk better than forcing the issue, even if Essek was still looking for a more direct way to unlock those memories.

He tapped his own temple, refocusing. What Mollymauk said was true, there wasn't a target to use for a demonstration. Unless —

"You said the effects were temporary," Essek checked.

Mollymauk gave a shrug. "Far as I've seen."

"No lasting effects?" The question got him a shake of the head, as expected. Magic usually wore off without a trace. To call Mollymauk's abilities a curse was likely a stronger word than was accurate, too small and too brief to qualify. Curses clung and festered, even a blindness spell was likely to have more effect than what Mollymauk could do — except that it wouldn't come through in a split-second of need, by the time Essek was finished pulling his components and conjuring the sigils in his mind, a sword would be through Mollymauk's chest, through Caleb's, through Jester's.

Life for life. Perhaps it was a more equal exchange than he'd believed.

"In that case..." Essek drew the words out, giving himself a moment longer to consider. "Target me."

Mollymauk's face contorted into bewilderment. "Are you sure?" He prompted.

"As long as what you said is true, and the effect is only temporary, then yes." Even if the thought did make his skin prickle, remembering how blood spurted around the eyes. He wondered how badly it would hurt. Essek could fight, but it did not mean he was comfortable with pain. Not like Mollymauk.

The tiefling shrugged, shifting his weight between each hoof. "Ready?" He asked. Then he broke out into a sudden grin, saying, "Honestly this is weird. It's always a split-second thing for me, I've hardly had to think about it."

"Would it help if I attempted to strike you?" Essek pulled a curl of ice between his fingers, crystalizing purple magic that was so dark it bordered on black. Mollymauk watched the movement of his fingers, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he grinned.

"Talented hands," Mollymauk commented, and then cleared his throat. "But uh. You know what? Fuck it, why not. Give me your best shot, Thelyss."

Mollymauk slunk back, and the shift to his posture held Essek's gaze where it didn't belong. Mollymauk typically held himself lofty and large, filling up the space around him. That meant this change made for a captivating view, to watch as he became a serpentine creature, one who curled one way to the other and then lunged in to strike. He wasn't attacking Essek, though, was only on defense, swaying in place with a hypnotic flow.

Essek watched him, biding his time, a stalemate. He counted the seconds, learned the pattern of Mollymauk's weight, found the point when he'd struggle to shift his movement and then —

Crimson splashed in his vision. Essek gasped, a hand flying to his face as the burn began to settle in at the corners of his eyes. Blood trickled from his tear ducts in heavy drops, sticky as they rolled down his cheeks. The sensation was nauseating.

Necromancy, he recalled. That had been the magic that flashed the second before he lost his vision. He cleaned the blood away with a few casts of prestidigitation, blinking his eyes to find Mollymauk standing much closer with streaks of blood on his own cheeks, and not so much as a speck of frost on his skin.

"Handy trick," Mollymauk commented, as the blood wicked off of Essek's skin. "You mind...?"

He swallowed his nausea, saying, "Of course." Essek cupped Mollymauk's jaw, sliding his thumb across his cheek to where the peacock feather was inked to clear the blood away. He only realized a moment later he hadn't actually needed to touch Mollymauk.

"Thank you," Mollymauk all but purred, and Essek would swear the tiefling pressed into his hand before he pulled it away.

He drew in a breath, and as he let it out he forced his muscles to unwind. "Thank you," Essek returned. "I have some interesting points to consider from that."

"Oh, yeah?"

A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. "You wouldn't understand it." It wasn't meant as an insult. Or, perhaps it was a bit of an insult, but mostly just a statement of fact.

"True enough," Mollymauk shrugged, and to Essek's disappointment, he didn't bother prying.

In the distance, the sky began to change. The change in the light was enough to draw both their gazes. The clouds that cast the city in darkness had begun to spiral open, an eye dilating over the Bright Queen's palace to let in a light that made Essek wince even from so far away.

"I suppose we will have to pause this," Essek said, turning away to head into the house. "I prefer not to willingly blind myself."

"Please think about what you just said," Mollymauk drawled as he trotted up beside him, tail flicking against the back of Essek's calf.

He had to snort. "You have something of a point, but that was performed as apart of an experiment. Learning, studying, improving, not just..." He stopped himself and just huffed out a breath.

"Oh?" He could hear the smirk in Mollymauk's voice. "That means something."

Essek considered how honest he wanted to be here. Mollymauk was not a subtle individual — to call him such would likely be considered an insult. In that same vein, Molly had shown little if any regard for social norms and standards, often to a frustrating extent. "I am only frustrated," he said. "What you see there is apart of worship of... something they do not understand, and treat as a deity because of that."

"Lot's of folks don't understand me but I've yet to be treated like a god. Shame," Mollymauk sighed. "So it's some kinda ceremony? They wouldn't be having a festival, would they?" His expression lit up.

Essek actually felt bad dashing his hopes. "No, it is not the kind of ceremony you would want to partake in," he said. "It is... reverent, to an alarming degree."

"Wrong: I'd love partake in that — just as long as I'm the center of attention." Mollymauk's comment dragged another chuckle from Essek's chest. He'd been laughing more in general, since meeting the Nein. It followed that one of their early members would be much the same.

Mollymauk continued, "Really, though, what's going on? You conjured a big spooky cloud to keep the sun out, didn't you?"

"You have not heard of our Beacons yet, have you?" Essek prompted. They stepped across the threshold, Essek drawing the curtains that ideally would have only been for decoration.

"I've heard 'em mentioned?" Mollymauk shrugged. "That's — lemme guess, beacon of light?"

"That is the idea, yes." Essek lowered himself into a chair, while Mollymauk all but threw himself into another. He wrinkled his nose as the furniture creaked under the tiefling's weight. "There are these... dodecahedrons. They were found, and so were some of their properties. They found that when one is consecuted — I would say attuned, but they use consecute — their soul enters this Beacon upon death, to be reincarnated at a later time."

As Essek explained the beacons to Mollymauk, the tiefling's gaze grew distant. Snippets of conversation pulled to mind, pieces falling into place for Essek. He nipped his own criticisms of the practice short, circling around to say, "That is reason why your friends are so revered in the Dynasty. They —"

"We found one," Mollymauk interrupted. His voice was distracted. "No. We met in the sewers — Thuron."

The name pinged in Essek's mind, one of those sent to retrieve a beacon. He hummed, quiet and prompting, not wanting to break Mollymauk's reverie.

"He was killed. The guards took it, but we —" A smile pulled at his lips. "Caleb and Nott, those fucking bastards. Can't trust either of them, clever assholes'll stab you in the back at the first sniff of trouble."

Essek swallowed a protest as Mollymauk trailed into silence. Molly's brow furrowed and he shook his head, a hand coming up to cover one eye. "Gods," Mollymauk groaned. "So we'd been lugging around your god in a lead box."

"Allegedly," Essek couldn't stop himself from breaking in. He bit back any further words, but the moment had passed. Clarity returned to Mollymauk's gaze. He gave it a moment before continuing, "I have my doubts that it is any sort of deity. I think they need to be studied, not worshiped. By I am in the... extreme minority, in that regard. And I would prefer these words not be repeated."

Mollymauk gave him a crooked, tired smile. "What's a little blasphemy between friends, Mister Thelyss? And honestly, I don't blame you. That reincarnation thing, that sounds like a nightmare."

The words were alien enough to shock Essek. He cocked his head, leaning forward. "You wouldn't want to be consecuted, given the chance?"

When Mollymauk only scrunched up his nose he added, "Theoretical immortality. Death is no longer an object of fear, as it becomes a delay, not an end. That doesn't appeal to you?"

By his expression, it definitely did not. Molly's voice was rough when he spoke. "What you said about how the souls... awaken. What about the person they would have been? Is it really even their soul, or are they just suppressing someone else? I wouldn't..." Mollymauk pulled his legs up, tail curling around his shins as he rested his chin on his knees. He looked small, in that moment. His voice shook. His eyes were wide. "I don't want anyone else's memories. I don't want anyone else's thoughts."

Essek stood up. The movement was sudden enough to snap Mollymauk out of it, leaving him blinking at Essek with wide red eyes. He wracked his brain for something to say, a way to interrupt this descent, and landed on Caduceus' voice: "Would you like some tea?"

Mollymauk stared at him. Then he laughed, hoarse, and pushed himself to his hooves. "Sure," he croaked. "But there's not a chance in all the hells that I'm letting you make it."

They were silent as they moved to the kitchen, Essek standing begrudgingly aside to let Mollymauk make a mess of things. He was a good cook, but hardly a considerate one.

And maybe it was poking the sleeping owlbear, but Essek couldn't deny the questions that lingered on his tongue. "It would, theoretically, still be you," he said. "And who is to say that the person you become is not influenced by the person you were."

Mollymauk snapped his head to look over his shoulder, pinning Essek to the spot with a near-snarl. With teeth bared and ears pinned low, he looked a beat away from outright snarling in Essek's face. Then the fight drained from him. He breathed a sigh through the nostrils, drawing himself upright as he poured water into a kettle. "I am the last person to yuck anyone's yum," Mollymauk said. "If someone wants to go body hopping to the end of time, they can be my guest. But I want no part of that. It's just not for me."

Essek hesitated before dipping his head in a nod, even if Mollymauk couldn't see. "That is fair," he murmured. "I do not think it is for me, either."

"You were pretty pushy about it." Molly clicked his fingers at Essek and pointed to the stove. Essek just sighed and touched the runes, igniting a fire for him to set the kettle atop.

"You can do that on your own. Regardless, I was curious," Essek said, leaning back against the counter. "You are so against having another person's memories, but you want your own back. What is the difference there?"

"It just is." Molly started taking out the tea — all of it, in tins and bags and boxes. Most were blends that Caduceus had given him, but some came in his grocery order. Essek hardly understood the difference between them all. As Mollymauk worked, his tail lashed. It would betray his agitation if the tension in his voice hadn't already. "It feels different. Right now I'm missing pieces of myself. Those people, your people, the Nein, they're important. I don't know why, but they just are. But there was something before them."

Mollymauk turned, the anger in his face now resembling fear. Dread, maybe, or horror. It left him pale and clutching the edge of the counter, looking at Essek like he expected him to sprout fangs and lung for him. "There was something else, and I don't want it. This is my body now, my life. He gave it up. He doesn't get to take it back."

Essek remembered the haunted sheen in Molly's eyes when he'd called him by a different name.

Mollymauk.

Lucien.

"If that is true," Essek said, giving up on any further inquisition, "then you have nothing to worry about. He is... whoever he is. And you are you. You cannot become him."

It didn't work that way. He was making a statement with no backing, barely even understood what it was Mollymauk feared so terribly. But whatever he'd said, it seemed to work, with Mollymauk's shoulders going loose and a sigh expelling from his chest. "Yeah," he puffed. "Yeah that makes sense. Good thinking, Mister Thelyss."

"I am... happy to be a help to you."

And though it was said with a dryness in his voice, Essek found the words rang true.

[advernia]

around june of last year, i decided to revive my writing blog as one of the many potential stress-relief methods i could think of.... i didn’t think i’d be able to keep it active for long since work + family duties keep me preoccupied most of the time, but eyyy!!! so far i haven’t lost the motivation to keep going back to this blog, and i even managed to keep it afloat for half a year!!! amazing!!! (•̀o•́)ง

and now here we are halfway through 2020!!! it’s waaaay overdue but here’s a big T H A N K  Y O U  V E R Y  M U C H ! ! ! to everyone and anyone who dropped by this blog last year + all them likes, comments, reblogs...... please know that i’m still i n c r e d i b l y grateful for the support & interest in the content i’ve posted up!!!! tbh my activity’s still hella sporadic so it’s really amazing for me that i even gained new followers.... i’m very honored to have all of you stick around my blog despite my irregularity!!!!!!!! (༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ)

it’s also overdue, but i slowly managed and finally cleaned up the blog like i’ve been meaning to do + changed the blog name to match my ao3 handle for consistency!!! i make no promises to be super active... but i’m sure that i still want to continue writing & keep this blog alive!!!! 

again, thank you all for your time + reading my works!!!!!!  ∩( ´∀` )∩ work commentary on the rest of my works last year follows under the cut!

oct 1 // hero’s journey

a drabble on blanc + oliver about the alices... now that i think of it, calling the first alice first alice is kinda funny considering that alice is really her name... or is it? 

i do hope blanc’s route talks about her a bit, haha! i mean, i wish cybird remembers that they’ve been dropping the occasional background tidbits about her... like for example, her pocketwatch (that she gave to blanc eventually) having a magic crystal engraved into it.... her potentially leaving a fucking globe in the black army’s possession (like... wow... u fell with that thing????????)....

plus, i just find it interesting that she was remembered by cradle as a heck of a troublemaker lol! it also makes you wonder who among the main cast met her, blanc aside... though it’s not stated when exactly she fell into cradle, so maybe only blanc had the opportunity of meeting her...

so does blanc speak of her fondly bc she’s a woman, or is there something else??? has he been frequently visiting the land of reason pre-game??? has he found the first alice’s antique shop / met her again??? does he still try to figure out the reason why there’s a magic crystal engraved into the first alice’s pocketwatch????? hmmmmm......

on another note, it would be hilarious if cybird pulls a peter pan 2......... since we can’t pull off a mother-daughter relationship like wendy & jane’s, what if alice the second is somehow actually related to the first alice?? and while she’s completely different from her predecessor, blanc finds himself falling for alice the second........ just like he fell for the first alice? drama!

that’s just a random thought but kidding aside, i do hope blanc’s route is hella interesting bc i think he’s our mr. exposition for knowing more about cradle itself lol

oct 1 // fair (?) ladies & phony (?) enchanters

a result of going manic a few days after seeing harr’s trailer + route release.... ahaHAHA I’M STILL WILLING TO PLAY UR ROUTE IN JP HARR (if i actually had time to sit down and translate gET REKT)

i liked writing these drabbles and i think they’re cute but tbh they did nothing to ease my curiosity about harr’s route.... if anything else, it became even w o r s e  haha........................

if i think of blanc to have a cradle-centric route, i do hope harr’s route is magic tower-centric! naturally it will be since he’s got history there, but i hope a lot of my questions about the magic tower will be answered.....

will harr’s perspective of the magic tower be in the eyes of a test subject or a disciple???? he was scouted by the magic tower, but it wasn’t stated what he was doing exactly..... going by hints + loki’s & zero’s routes, it’s more of him being a disciple, so there’s bound to be guilt.......

hopefully alice’s characterization in his route is good + we get a fun group dynamic with loki!!! their potential.... the most(?) notorious criminal of cradle, a sought after test subject, and that one girl who nullifies all magic; a renegade trio lurking around the forbidden forest.... what an odd bunch!

oct 4 // god is a five minute hymn

a religious themed fic with lancelot & alice - tbh i don’t even know why religion was the first thing that came into mind when liz and i were talking about cultural differences, lol.

on that note though! i personally like thinking that if ever cradle had a semblance of a religion, it would be polytheistic & nature-centric, and not strictly practiced - the stratocracy of both territories i’d like to think makes it harder for religion to have a voice, much less have one that is practiced by the general population. the only thing general about it is that the religion centers or has magic crystals as an important factor... or something. yeah.

that aside, i think i specifically chose lancelot in this piece for the sole reason that his canonically stated lack of common sense, in my opinion, gives him the curiosity of a child sometimes - there’s no sense of malice or doubt, just the pure innocence of wanting to know something....... religion does that to kids, especially when introduced to it at first.

rereading the fic makes me think of the instances where when faced with dire or unsettling situations, people turn to faith as a life line.... well, i’m not sure if i had that subconsciously in mind when writing alice, but that does give a spin to it....

oct 6 // flow like the river nile

a spontaneous red army-centric fic! it certainly turned out better than i expected... i liked the formatting i used for this one!

if cybird can give us more about the pre-game suitors it would be great, tbh! and while the stuff about them in school is interesting, i’d like to see more about when they assumed their positions + combat scenes! the neutrals are special cases, but knowing more about their living conditions + daily lives is also a treat...

i was thinking of adding one last snippet about lancelot in the eyes of the reds, but i scrapped it out and switched it to alice & lancelot’s conversation about duty - it could’ve worked better if i stuck to using the what is your duty? question, but i scrapped it eventually too. ah well. it does look good enough as it is. 

oct 7 // seeking out phantoms

a mandatory(???) odd one out aka content that’s not ikerev, haha! i missed fe:a all of a sudden...

i never got around to writing properly for this fandom tho, what a shame - i’ve got some bits of pieces in my drafts that looked interesting and easy enough to pick up, and this was one of them.

robin investigating more of their plegian heritage could’ve been a good subplot tbh... i still wish there was something like a paralogue or dlc about it, bc honestly the valm arc goes a bit slow until you get to the future past revelations. ah well.

and gaius bc first husband for the win.... not like i actually had the guts to marry anyone else in my other save files lololol

nov 7 // push me off a bridge (to catch me as i fall)

my longest project of 2019, holy shit! i didn’t know i still had it in me to write something past 10k... i need more of that motivation + energy....

there’s nothing much to say about this since i blabbed about everything in the post-reading notes, but as much as i fought myself to get this done, i really enjoyed writing a long fic again! hopefully i can get myself to write another one this year...

nov 18 // beloved, beloved, let me be clear

18 sentences on zero & alice + macross frontier references! man, when i really got to the point about the earrings i was thinking of sheryl a lot....

kept it in sentences cause i didn’t have enough time to put up a decent ficlet! but i really wanted to get my screaming out of my system....... i used to do sentences + three word sentences challenges before, and doing one again was pretty fun!

but really.... zero’s route kept me happy for days???? their buildup + dynamic was something i was totally w e a k for, no joke..... thank gods the collection event was going on, bc i really made good use of my stocked chapter tickets lolol!

i was especially excited come the ball scene, and that cg..... a h a h a.... i need more of those pretty cgs where i can see alice’s face + costume change....... 

nov 20 // coloring inside the lines

jonah + alice + makeup!!!! tbh this was really fun, i enjoyed writing this one - if i remember, this was a fic that i managed to continuously work on the day i thought it up!

jonah may not be my best boy but tbh i find writing him very easy - i guess it’s because i’m very fond of characters like him!!! those uptight nobles who are as prideful as hell but can definitely live up to their name + are more capable than their bragging suggests... idk if there’s a general trope name for these doods, but i especially like analyzing their motivations + convictions!!!

i liked how i ended it, but i apparently i made an actual ending that’s now a snippet in my drafts - jonah & alice head to the ball, and somewhere along some bystanders’ flow of conversation someone drops a comment about jonah’s lips looking... quite more luscious than usual, lolol. so t h i r s t y. upon hearing this, alice can’t seem to stop smiling for some reason..... 

nov 27 // blue fields, verdant skies

a practice drabble set centric on a ray/alice development that i liked so much i made it into a series - plus, it’s black army content and honestly i need to write more of them! my red army bias is showing whoooooops

it’s a feudal + arranged marriage au, with the latter... being quite spontaneous. it’s those types of marriages where neither have even met - not even once - only to face each other come the wedding... so it’s a given that audiences from both parties are rather curious how this will turn out.

since i had the theme of fate in mind, ray was the automatic pick for the male lead. the rest of the black army is a given and for kicks, i added dean and dalim! i actually want to write about them + mousse, but since i’m still unsure on their characterizations i’ve been holding them off.... but i gave in anyway.....

alice is again named for word count convenience purposes since it’s in actual 100 words aka drabble form! i have planned scenes + an ending already in mind, but going there is pretty hard bc.... i still have to write the scenes in between + resist temptation to expand further on other scenes, haha....

initially i was planning to keep it updated here as well, but any more updates of this are on ao3 instead! the formatting looks better there instead of my blog tbh, and it also gives it a sort of muted tone to the story that works with me!

this is also the 31st fic in this blog, marking an end of the challenge liz bestowed to me lolol - since i brought this blog back to life around june, i was dared that by the end of the year, i should’ve posted more than 15 fics to add up to the initial 15 i had already posted before, thus the numbers on my fics back then.... now that i actually succeeded, i can stop counting lololol!!!! tho hopefully i can still be pretty active this year....

dec 22 // duck, duck, bullet

oliver & fenrir on guns... this probably wins as the most spontaneous idea i had on my head - tbh, i wasn’t even sure where i was going with it at first! but i’m sure i was suddenly thinking about that one detective conan movie.... then it became kid!oliver with a gun.....

i wonder if he tests the bullets at night, when he’s in adult form.... then again, kid!oliver with a gun still works.... say that because he’s a genius inventor, he made some models to serve as his shooting targets.... but another thought that amuses me more is.... blanc does the bullet testing for him!?

lololol i already thought about blanc being oliver’s live target, but i also find blanc with a gun very interesting.......... i mean, blanc certainly doesn’t look like he can fight, but who knows??? i mean, mousse is the former ace of hearts, but i still can’t imagine him fighting..... appearances can be deceiving....

the two aside, i wonder how fenrir even met oliver and got him working on his bullets........ was it through blanc or other connections???? how long have they been seller and buyer???? does anyone else commission anything from oliver?????? hmmmm.....

dec 23 // terms of surrender

i’ve been told by liz + luci + other friends that i needed to practice writing more.... cheesy fluff. i’m not sure if this sirius/alice piece counts, lol. in fact, i think it’s my definition of fluff i see here - and it translates to not exactly fluffy at all!

tho if you want me to be honest about it - when i write suitor/alice stuff, how alice was characterized in the suitor’s route is still my basis for how i’ll write her, and sirius’ alice................ haha......... i think she’s the alice that’s honestly easy to write but i choose to avoid.......... 

i don’t dislike the sirius/alice dynamic per se, tho. i do find it cute, especially if cybird stops emphasizing the issue of maturity in the relationship on alice’s side. i understand - i really do - that it’s a potential issue in the relationship, but...... that’s not the only problem you can possibly have as time passes, right?????

on another note, it’s funny that only sirius gets to be harped about the maturity due to age difference issue - setting aside blanc, who heavens know how old he is, lancelot’s 29 and since alice is presumed to be around ray + fenrir’s age, you could say that she’s 24 or even 23 to be safe.... so that makes a 5 / 6 years difference but it’s never brought up, lol. but i guess it’s because unlike lancelot, the black army’s been making sirius’ age a running gag....

anyway, this piece is pretty decent! i was thinking of something along the lines of mornings between a “married couple”.... there were two scenarios i had in mind, and i opted to write this one out first.... maybe i’ll have the second one posted up here another day.

dec 28 // a chain of black thrones

pre-game!sirius & ray and bc i was thinking a lot about the previous chosen, the former jack of spades!!! i wonder if the armies have a set age for retirement lolol... it would be awesome if there was still a chosen who’s already past his 50s or something, haha!

since sirius was constantly badgered to take on the role of king, i was also wondering about how long the black army was ‘king-less’... i mean, if the tension between both armies was really as great as they say, having no king puts the black army at a precarious position... i also thought that ‘nah, maybe there was a king or something but maybe the black army didn’t like him or something so they insisted that sirius take it instead’ but sirius’ 1st anniv. epilogue says otherwise - there really was a period that the black army had no king, wow. how the heck did they deal with that???? surely the red army saw this as a display of vulnerability....

can the black army’s chosen choose to leave their posts when they feel like it??? when they’re defeated by a challenger, what happens to them - a demotion, or do they serve under the ‘new’ chosen??? does the black army’s chosen change constantly because of their meritocracy + challenger system??? like, how do they deal with that, and do they announce their changes in chosen each council meeting??? each new question just snowballed my curiosity, whoops...

there were so many angles i thought of but i decided to settle for addressing the king-less state of the black army... through the eyes of a veteran who’s probably served many kings throughout his time of service as part of the black army’s chosen.

i gave this jack of spades character a name, actually - garret folner. maybe someday i’ll write him again, bc i actually enjoyed thinking about the present + past chosen interactions - maybe i’d think about that for the red army, but this time i find the black army’s side more interesting for this situation.

dec 29 // steadfast tin soldier

a zero/alice piece for zeroweek - i was about to post pt. 1 as a standalone, but then i just thought about how.... zero bought alice a gown.... but never got to dance with her at the day of the ball..... so i rushed to add pt. 2 haha!

with the addition of pt. 2 it looks cut short tho - i did think of putting a scene in between, but no good ideas came into mind bc i was too fascinated with the dancing scene... i swear at some point i will find myself writing a fic or a part of a fic that’s a dance scene for the rest of the ikerev suitors + alice....

this is the kind of fluff i live for, actually... i’m totally fine with the steamy content cybird throws during events + bonus stories, but if i were to be honest i say.... where’s my non-sexual intimacy????? the simple, wholesome stuff?????????????????

man, i feel hilarious for typing that out..... but well, i guess it’s a matter of different strokes for different folks, lol!

[harmony283]

Mana’s Notebook Ch 2

A/N: Well hey just barely got this out on time! This is ch 2 of a longer fic I’m working on that I hope I’ll actually finish! Also on Ao3 because tumblrs formatting hates me.

Previous Chapter  on Tumblr since it went by a different name though I recommend reading Ao3s version by of the extra scene at the end.

A.W: So Cross found out.

Allen had debated on whether or not to send that one tiny text or not. He knew it was late and that Kanda was probably either asleep or answering his own set of very uncomfortable questions from Tiedoll, but at the very least he'd probably want to know Allen was going through the same damn thing--or went, considering Cross had left roughly fifteen minutes ago.

Part of him felt giddy, still, at the prospect of finding something of Mana's that he hadn't obsessively read over, but at the same time he felt guilty too. He highly doubted Cross would have reacted the way he did if the notebook had been a good thing, right? And now Lavi was going to probably get yelled at for it, even though all he did was give Allen Tyki's contact information.

Which led to a whole other set of questions that just made Allen's head hurt. He knew logically no one would probably open the door at near 4 am in the morning, much less to an irate and tipsy (though not drunk, for once) Cross. Allen knew Bookman was a colleague of Cross's and that they'd mutually borrowed things from each other for years now, with Lavi goofily acting as the messenger boy, but would Bookman really let Cross yell at him? Allen hoped not. Besides, last he'd heard from Lavi he was out delivering something for one of Bookman's clients--so would he even be home ?

Their shop wasn't even close by! Not really, so was the trip really that worth it? Would Bookman let Cross stay the night or was he going somewhere else after? If so, where? He'd said he'd be gone until afternoon so, again, was it really that serious?

“Great . ” Allen sighed and stared down at his phone, “Another thing to worry about.”

***

Just as Allen expected he didn't wake up until late the next morning. His clock read 10AM and the first thing he saw when he checked his phone was an equally as short reply back:

BaKanda: Yeah mine wasn't happy either .

Well that answer Allen's unasked question from last night. So he groggily reached for his phone with his right hand and pulled it closer before typing out:

A.W: Ouch. Sry abt that.

Immediately another ping notification went through.

BaKanda: You're up early.

Allen groaned at that and sat up. Too early, more like. Then again he stayed up later than usual so maybe he could forgive himself.

Before he could even roll off the bed to grab his shirt another text came through:

BaKanda: What was it anyway?

Oh. Well. Allen should have expected that. Cross had even said he could tell him as long as he didn't give any details. He tugged on the sweater from the night before and typed out:

A.W: Just a notebook I thought I'd lost .

Okay that wasn't really a lie, was it? Sort of? Okay, maybe it kind of was--

Suddenly his phone was ringing--

Naturally it was Kanda's number flashing on the screen. Well then.

Allen pressed the green call button and immediately turned it to speakerphone, “Someone found it. Apparently I left it at Cross's office one day.” Better elaborate, or as Cross called it convince, convince, convince before you can even be called a liar. “I was kind of writing it off as lost for good since I hadn't been there in months, y'know?”

There was an odd pause on the other end of the line. Then Kanda let out a loud sigh, “ Huh. Well then lucky you. ” There was no telling if he bought the story or not, “Guess it wasn't anything too important?”

Allen winced just a little, “Well. I was sad when it went missing. It was--I was copying down some notes. Music notes, y'know?” Okay he could feel a little bad about this later, “It probably made absolutely no sense to whoever found it unless they knew how to play the piano.”

“Most people know the basics.” There was a grunt, then Kanda was cursing, Allen was about to ask if he was okay when he continued, “Did they leave a note or anything?”

“A note?”

“Yeah. Saying who they were or how they found it? If they had it a while they probably went through it too.”

Allen grimaced again. He knew, maybe they had and that that was probably why Cross was so nervous, just like he knew he also didn't know why it was such a bad thing that they went through Mana's notebook, other than it being an invasion of privacy--

“Oi, cat got your tongue?”

“N-no!” Allen stuttered, “I just haven't looked through it yet. Fell asleep before I could.” There was another loud thump on the other end and, okay, Allen had to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Just practicing, why?”

Well then. “I shouldn't keep you, then.” That and he knew Kanda would start wheedling him, finding more cracks in his half-assed story--Allen knew there were benefits to convincing someone just as he knew there were benefits to knowing when to stop . “Are you going to Lena's today or is she working?” It was a Saturday but often times she helped out at her brothers lab so someone else could have the day off. “I...sort of texted her last night too.” That, at least, wasn't a lie even if it hadn't been anything important. He never replied back, so he knew she was probably worried.

“Fuck, really?” Allen heard Kanda groan, “Wasn't planning on it. Try just texting her. I'd rather not stop by if her brother's around.” A.k.a the lab. Who knew what happened in that lab on a daily basis? That was at least something they could agree on.

“Yeah I'll do that.” His reply was a little stilted, but they both probably knew what the other was thinking, and with very little preamble Kanda ended the call because of course that was just the Kanda thing to do.

So instead Allen opened up Lenalee's text window and reread the last few messages:

A.W: I'll see if I can get Kanda to do it? Will let u know if he says yes! Sent at 11:02PM. He hadn't said much just that he found something he'd lost. Reading back over it, especially now that Cross explicitly told him not to say anything made him feel guilty all over again.

Lena: Sorry didn't see this! Yeah let me know! Where did u need to go? Text me when u get back! Sent 11:45PM

Yeah, the guilt increased ten-fold, because again--he never had because the conversation with Cross and then he'd fallen asleep after texting Kanda and only Kanda. So for all he knew she was probably worried sick.

So he swallowed his pride just a little bit and typed up what he hoped was a decent reply:

A.W: Hey sry it was late when we got back. Fell asleep. I'm okay. Have a good day at work :)

****

Lenalee honestly didn't know whether to be worried or relieved when she woke up the next morning without any new texts from Allen or Kanda. Part of her knew she shouldn't have expected much, after all it had been late, and they both probably assumed she was asleep. So really she couldn't be too upset at them even if it meant she'd spent the entire morning glancing at her phone as she got ready. She even got ready a little slower than usual, even though she knew Komui expected her to stop by and help out at the lab around 9 o'clock.

Which meant she could only waste so much time before she had to tuck her phone away in her purse and head on her way. Part of her would question why Kanda didn't at least text her first, seeing as usually he was awake by now exercising, but at the same time it had only been Allen who texted her last night, and even though he gave Allen a ride in the end that didn't necessarily mean he knew what was going on.

Either that or he forgot his phone existed. Again.

That was always the problem with being friends with mostly guys. It was exasperating as it was endearing, so when Lenalee got to work she was almost glad for the distraction the paperwork provided. It was probably why she nearly jumped when her phone vibrated from its spot next to the pile of paperwork she'd been filing.

A rush of relief ran through her as she saw the text on the screen:

Allen: Hey sry it was late when we got back. Fell asleep. I'm okay. Have a good day at work :)

Followed by a larger rush of both annoyance and worry because that text? Didn't answer anything. Honestly it really made her wonder if he was trying to worry her on purpose, or if he was just oblivious. Chances were it was the latter, it was Allen after all, but that still left her with more questions.

For one, how did Allen know she was at work? Granted that was the easiest question to answer after all her brother usually needed help on Saturdays and even if she couldn't do much except sorting and filing paperwork she definitely enjoyed the task. It got Komui to actually come out of his office more, and she could at least say she was being helpful. Everyone else in the lab was sweet, too and kept her up to date on what insane project Komui was working on next.

Two, again where did they go? She could assume Kanda knew more and that he would easily answer her once he figured out his phone existed again. But even then she wanted to hear it from Allen not Kanda after all it was Allen who asked for a ride in the first place.

That led to the third question of what it was that Allen had even found? If it was important enough he would have just told her last night, right? Even if it wasn 't important she knew if he was excited enough about finding it he would have told her. But he didn't. He'd just been excited enough to call Kanda out at nearly midnight to go retrieve it.

And now she was worried again.

Until she heard her phone buzz again. This time it was Kanda:

Kanda: Oi did the bean text you yet?

Well at least now she knew Kanda had found his phone. Though the timing was oddly specific, which had even more questions flooding around in her head. Maybe she was thinking too hard about this, but at this point could anyone really blame her?

So she shot a text to Allen first:

Lena: Ok I was worried u dummy! Did u find what you were looking for?

Then to Kanda:

Lena: Yes he did. What happened??

At the very least she would get answers out of one of them.

****

Honestly Kanda shouldn't have been so surprised when he got a text back from Lenalee almost immediately. If Allen had texted her just like he said he did then who knew what she was thinking could have happened? That alone reminded Kanda of how little he actually knew himself, other than that he had a clear suspicion that Allen was probably maybe lying. Again he was pretty sure it wasn't anything illegal, but it definitely wasn't just some random ass notebook filled with music notes and piano chords that he was pretty sure anyone who'd gone to elementary school would probably remember.

Not that either of them really had a traditional schooling experience, but at least Tiedoll had tried.

In other words unless it had something important or maybe embarrassing in it then Kanda really didn't know why it couldn't have waited until morning. But that still left Lenalee's text unanswered and he knew she wasn't above text spamming him--at work or not. So Kanda quickly shifted back into a resting position before grabbing his phone and replying:

Kanda : What did he tell u?

Maybe it was a little mean to answer a question with a question but he also didn't know if maybe he'd told her more than him. Chances were probably not, after all it was Lenalee . She wouldn't be afraid of telling Allen how bad of an idea it was. Hell, Kanda hadn't asked just based on the assumption that it couldn't have been a bad place and now look--he found out Allen was maybe lying and landed with even more questions that in turn he was worrying too much about.

He grabbed the closest water bottle he could reach (he had several in here mostly because he usually refilled them then forgot they were in here) only to realize it was half empty. Dammit he needed some water. So he groaned and pushed himself up off the studio floor and opened the door into the hall. Tiedoll's house was much bigger than it had every right to be, but at the same time having four boys plus being an artist in need of several studios did that a person. Probably.

Also having four boys tended to make one a hover-er, because Kanda hadn't even made his way down the hall to the living room-kitchen-dining room before he heard Tiedoll call out:

“Yuu is that you? My you're up early!” There he was at the foot of the stairs with a gigantic laundry basket in his hands, sweatpants, sweatshirt and bare feet despite the fact it was, again, only February. Not that Kanda was about to point that out considering just by seeing him he remembered that painfully short and awkward conversation from last night.

So instead he only nodded his head and continued walking to the kitchen. There he opened the fridge and pulled out yet another half full bottle of water he probably shoved in there at some point, chugging down its contents before grabbing a third, turning around and-- shit .

Tiedoll was now standing on the other side of the bar with a worried smile on his face, clothes forgotten. Great. “Were you working out? Good, good, I would have thought you'd sleep in--”

“I wasn't out that late.” Kanda muttered, though hell even he knew that was a lie. “Didn't we already talk about this?” Wait, wait, no . He wasn't going to instigate this. He turned and tried to walk past only for Tiedoll to sigh softly and ask:

“If you'd like to say that counted as talking about it, then yes we did. I don't think it counts, though because nothing really came out of it.” Tiedoll was moving around the bar now, towards Kanda and oh dammit . They were talking about it now, weren't they?

*** FLASHBACK TIME***

The minute Kanda opened the front door he knew Tiedoll was still awake. Most likely because he'd either heard Kanda jump out of his window or because he saw his car wasn't in the driveway. Honestly Kanda was surprised he was even able to get out in the first place, with how attuned Tiedoll seemed to be, but the point was clearly he was awake now and probably had been the entire time.

It still always unnerved Kanda that such a calm unassuming man could have such a presence in a room before Kanda even stepped into it. Though at least he let him actually walk in, hang his jacket up and kick his shoes off first before asking any questions.

“You know I'm going to have to ask you where you went, Yuu.” Tiedoll flicked on the nearby table lamp and continued to watch until Kanda shuffled into the room. Yes, shuffled because he definitely wasn't a night owl like Allen was. He would probably have to keep this brief because he could tell when his body kept trying to wake itself back up again, and that he was teetering on that edge where he was just straight up exhausted--something only sleep could fix.

So he went with the easiest explanation first. “Allen texted. He was hungry--We went to the 24 hour McDonalds.”

He could see Tiedoll raise an eyebrow at that. He definitely didn't believe him. Not that Kanda really expected him to entirely, but they both knew it wasn't unusual for Allen to text for a ride, even though it was much later than usual. “I'd ask why this late and if you spent the entire time there but--”

“--Can I sleep first?” Kanda knew that sounded bad the minute he said it. Knew that for all intents and purposes Tiedoll could tell him no and to sit back down because yes Kanda was technically an adult now, being 21 now, but he did still live under Tiedoll's roof and rely on him for things like food and a warm place to live rent-free.

But surprisingly? Tiedoll only sighed again and nodded his head, “Alright. But we're talking about this in the morning. Don't forget.”

***FLASHBACK END***

But of course Kanda kind of had, mostly because the minute he'd stepped into his room and checked his phone he'd seen Allen's text message. He knew his talk with Tiedoll had been brief but that only delayed the inevitable awkwardness, whereas Allen at least got to sleep on whatever horrifying thing Cross said.

Great.

“So you remember now?” Tiedoll asked motioning to one of the nearby chairs, “Sit, sit. We're talking about it now while we have the chance.” Which usually meant before the others were up. Mainly Daisya because Kanda knew Chaoji would probably have to leave for work soon and nothing was ever really successfully hidden from Marie. Not with how good his hearing was.

“We really did go to McDonald's.” He started with before Tiedoll could ask again. “I was serious. He ate half of the damn menu somehow.” It still made Kanda ill to think about all that damn grease he'd shoved into his mouth.

He must have been making a face because Tiedoll started chuckling at that, “Oh I believe it, but Yuu even then you wouldn't have left so early or gotten back so late even if he ate all that. And yes I know when you left. I was dozing but not fully asleep.” He paused here then helpfully tacked on, “And when I checked I saw your car missing. So no I didn't think it was Daisya or Chaoji getting home.”

Again Kanda scowled but fuck it if he hadn't assumed that himself so, “Your point?”

“My point .” Kanda could feel when that look changed. A literal shiver ran down his back, “Is that by now you should know better than to lie. I know how long it takes you to pick Allen up and how long it takes for you two to get to McDonalds and back. I can do basic math. I know there's a span of time you went somewhere else and now you're not telling me where? I won't even point out that you smelled like cigarette smoke from a brand I know you don't smoke.”

Oh. Oh . Kanda could feel himself cringe all the way down to his toes. Not just because Tiedoll had a point, but because he probably knew the brand based off smell alone. Kanda wasn't stupid, he'd been friends with Allen long enough that of course Tiedoll had spent enough time around Cross! And if he recognized the brand--

“Now. Is there anything you want to tell me?” Tiedoll leaned forward in that way that made him both look unassuming but also like he could legitimately threaten the answers he wanted right out of you. This situation was now leaning towards the latter.

Well. Shit. Hopefully Allen would understand Kanda telling him some , even though he wasn't even sure himself of some of the details, “Allen asked for a ride.” He started off simply, sitting down hard in the chair next to Tiedoll. Maybe if he made this quick he wouldn't be mad? Or would maybe realize he was blowing it out of proportion a little bit. “It was after eleven so Lena couldn't do it.” At least he didn't have to explain that part, Tiedoll knew Komui just as well as the rest of them did. “I thought it'd be quick so I said fine. He really did just need to pick something up. It was raining,” Of course they both knew this too, “So that took longer too. Traffic wasn't that bad, he got what he left, and then got hungry so I agreed to pick up McDonalds. Didn't think he'd eat half the menu soaking wet but he did. Then I dropped him back off at home and drove back. The end--”

Except now Tiedoll was holding his hand up because of course he could probably tell Kanda just wanted to get this over with, but details . He wanted details. So he asked the obvious question first, “What did Allen need so badly that he couldn't wait until morning to get it?” And then, because neither of them had said it yet but they both already knew-- “And that also doesn't explain why you smelled like one of Cross's cigarettes. Did you stop in for a visit?” And even then they both knew it wouldn't have been so strong unless Kanda had gone into his bedroom or smoked one himself.

At least that was easy to explain, “I asked for compensation. I wasn't just going to go out in a monsoon and drive him somewhere without asking for something in return.” Wait. That sounded bad, shit . He plowed on quickly, “Especially when he didn't even want to tell me where we were going or why.”

He saw Tiedoll's incredulous face warp into something close to worry, “So you went out at near midnight and drove him to somewhere for some reason and not only that you asked him to steal some of Cross's cigarettes--?” Okay that did sound really, really bad actually.

Dammit now Kanda couldn't really blame Tiedoll for being so worried. Unthinkingly, or maybe just to give his hands something to do, Kanda started unscrewing the bottle cap on the bottle of water he'd grabbed, but he never took a sip out of it. It just felt nice and cold on his hands and helped him not look at Tiedoll as he tried to think about what he'd say, because again he didn't know. He didn't know why, even though yes he knew where they went--so maybe he could work with that? “I'm actually trying to ask him why it was so important. He finally answered me maybe thirty minutes ago.” Which. Shit. He needed to check and see if Lenalee replied too. Dammit, he should have just brought his phone with him. “He said it was a notebook he'd left at Cross's office months ago.” He could see Tiedoll stiffen up here, “Apparently he forgot about it and one of Cross's coworkers found it. Not sure how long they kept it,” Not that that wasn't kind of strange in it's own right, “but I guess they finally told Allen and somehow they arranged to either meet up or to leave the notebook somewhere.” Which...wait. That also didn't quite add up. Why had they left it in such a sketchy ass place if it was just a random notebook? Why couldn't they have given it to Cross to bring home? Now Kanda was even more confused, but right. He had to finish, at least, so he could leave . “No I still don't know why we went and picked it up at midnight unless you want me to guess.”

When he actually turned to look at Tiedoll though he could see how pale he was. That alone had Kanda feeling--not quite squeamish but also like he really didn't want to know what Tiedoll must be thinking. All he knew was he was now shaking his head and murmuring, “No, no, I mean if he tells you I'd like to know but….I supposed I'm just glad you're home.”

Why did that kind of sound like Tiedoll thought he wouldn't be? Who did Tiedoll think they'd meet up with? He knew again that Cross worked with some strange ass people, given some of the stories Allen told sometimes, but surely they weren't that dangerous….right?

Then again given the location he left that notebook they at least didn't think like a normal person logically would, so what did Kanda know?

Suddenly Tiedoll clapped one hand hard on his shoulder, jarring him out of that particular thought, before loudly saying, “Alright. Thank you for telling me this much, Yuu. Sorry for disrupting your morning workout. I'll let you get back to that though I will say please at least drink all your waters first before grabbing a new bottle. Or at least don't leave them littered around the studio! Other people use it too, you know?”

Then he walked over to the laundry basket he neglected and hefted it up before disappearing up the stairs and leaving Kanda to stare after him. He didn't even get a chance to try and defend himself, then again--fuck it. Tiedoll had a point and it wasn't like he didn't know who did it, after all Daisya and Chaoji  both liked sports drinks better than just bottled water.

So Kanda sighed, grabbed the water he'd gotten from the fridge, and slowly walked back to the studio. Where he'd left his phone. He grimaced a little but pulled up his most recent messages. Shockingly he had five unread text messages from her, and two from Allen. Huh.

The first one was almost immediate after his reply:

Lena: He hasn't told me anything since asking for a ride

The next two came ten minutes after and had Kanda stalling and staring.

Lena: He said he's fine though?

Lena: Why wouldn't he be fine?

Because hadn't he just been thinking that? Or something close enough to it? Why wouldn't Allen be fine? Why did it feel like they'd been in more danger after the fact than during? What wasn't Allen saying?

Finally, the last one was from only two minutes ago.

Lena: If u can't tell me just say so.

Well. Fuck. Then again since he didn't reply immediately it definitely did look like he was ignoring her. So he took a deep breath and quickly texted back:

Kanda : Sorry Tiedoll.

Kanda: I asked him too he didn't rly answer.

There. Because now Kanda was starting to realize Allen had definitely lied. Maybe not about all of it, considering he really had grabbed something that night in the pouring rain that someone had left. But who it was and what it was? Clearly he wasn't telling the whole truth. It made Kanda wonder why he didn't want to tell them, but he knew this was probably the perfect example for why--Lenalee was nosy only when she was worried and Kanda only when he knew the other person was lying.

In this scenario Allen fit both scenarios.

Speaking of which, Kanda clicked on the two unread texts from Allen.

Beansprout: What did u tell Lena

Beansprout: She wants to meet after work. U free?

Well at least that was one way to resolve everything, maybe not perfectly but Kanda could always tell if someone was lying a lot easier when they were face to face. So Kanda quickly typed out:

Kanda: Yeah I should be. Where?

[chimchimchoo]

Fly Me to the Moon :: Ch 1

Genre: Pure fluff crack

Word Count: 2,510

Pair: Yoongi x Jimin

Collaborated with @tayvengeance

Chapter: 1

"CHEER UP THIS SAD, EMO BOY!"

02-222-3333

Jimin stared at the note on the bathroom wall for a solid 5 minutes before he pulled out his phone and typed in the number.

authors note: we do not own any of the pictures, for better formatting so it’s more comfortable to read, check it out on AO3! AO3 link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944508/chapters/34626863 Twitters: Tae’s Sujin’s <3 - Tae & sujin

Chat with Mochi_Moves

2015.11.15

14:00

Mochi_Moves:

Will this make you feel happier?

SUGA:

What the fuck

Who is this?

Mochi_Moves:

That doesn’t matter. Did the picture make you laugh? c:

SUGA:

No what the fuck

I think you have the wrong #

Mochi_Moves:

Aw :c

No, I just found this number and wanted to make you a happy emo boy!

SUGA:

Wait, who are you

How do you know I’m emo

Also it’s not emo

It’s grunge

Fuck you

Mochi_Moves:

But..I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name :c

Just call me Mochi

I’ll be your anonymous friend c:

Why are you a sad grunge boy?

SUGA:

Life is a bitch

That’s why.

Mochi_Moves:

Ohmygod, this poor soul

Who hurt you??????

SUGA:

Like i’m gonna tell a stranger my life story

Mochi_Moves:

But didn’t you know?

It’s easier to tell strangers

Come on c: c: c:

SUGA:

Add another smile to that and I just might strangle you

I’m kidding

But not really

Mochi_Moves:

:c

SUGA:

Now that’s a relatable emotion

Mochi_Moves:

Okay alright

I won’t pressure you

You can tell me tomorrow c:

Instead tell me something happy about yourself!

c:

SUGA:

I have mint hair.

I guess that’s happy?

Idk

Coloured hair makes me happier

Mochi_Moves:

Mint???? Wow!

I’ve never seen anyone with mint hair

That must look so cool *.*

SEND ME A PICTURE

SUGA:

No, what if you’re a predator

I’ve watched Catfish

I know how this shit goes

Mochi_Moves:

But I’m not! Just the hair

Pleeeaaassseee?

c:

SUGA:

Only if you tell me who you are

Mochi_Moves:

How do I know you’re not a predator either?

Maybe you’re the bathroom janitor for all I know

SUGA:

YOU’RE THE ONE WHO KNEW I WAS AN

EMO BOY

YOU MESSAGED ME FIRST

Mochi_Moves:

I just found it in the bathroom and wanted to

cheer up a sad grunge emo boy

SUGA:

Goddammit Hoseok.

He fucking put my number on the

stall wall again, didn’t he

I’m gonna fight him

Last time he did this, I got calls

nonstop

Mochi_Moves:

Hoseok?

JUNG HOSEOK??????

SUGA:

for a week.

Holy shit.

You know my arch nemesis?

Mochi_Moves:

Yeah! I dance with him!

He’s a great friend

Annoying sometimes…

BUt wonderful c:

SUGA:

Holy shit

You’re that Jimin kid he always

talks about

The revered dancer

“God, Yoongi you should see him. The way he moves his body is

the closest humans will get to magic.”

Mochi_Moves:

He really said something like that?? Wow, he’s really pushing it

Hah..

But you exposed yourself,

Nice to meet you Min Yoongi c:

SUGA:

That’s Yoongi HYUNG to you

Well, since I know you’re not going to prey on my gay ass

Mochi_Moves:

Ah, well

Two gay boys can be friends

c:

So don’t worry

I won’t be a gay predator

SUGA:

Fellas,

Is it gay to have gay friends

Mochi_Moves:

Let’s try it and see if it’ll answer your question!

c:

SUGA:

Well, I showed my face.

Your turn, punk.

Mochi_Moves:

I’m not a punk :c

According to Hoseok

I’m a soft mochi

SUGA:

Is that that Taehyung kid

He’s in my art class

I swear to GOD

Loudass motherfucker

But I guess he makes me laugh

Mochi_Moves:

BITCHDV

WATCH WOT U SAY BOU

M E

I KNOW WHE REY

YOU SIT

SUGA:

Holy shit he’s been reading over

your shoulder?

Hey kid, you’re wild. I admire it.

Especially when you got the fire alarm to go off

in the middle of free painting the other day.

Idk how you did it. You didn’t even leave your

seat.

Mochi_Moves:

I hav my ways ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Next time i jasdskjf

Sdfgk

Sorry! Taehyung took my phone

When I left the room

But yes it’s the one and only

We’re roommates

c:

SUGA:

I see. So no hanging at your place.

Haha

I’m just kidding

Not really

But yeah

Mochi_Moves:

Oh, so you do want to

come over sometime then?

Is that what you’re saying?

c: c: c:

SUGA:

I thought we had bonded over being

Hobi’s friend

I thought WE were gay pals

Without it being gay

Mochi_Moves:

Ah, you’re right!

I thought maybe

You already went onto the next base

Im so glad it didn’t turn out like that

My best gay pal c:

Second to Taehyung of course

SUGA:

I mean, you are a handsome fella

But

I don’t uh, date, really.

Mochi_Moves:

Ahhhh, does your love life

have to do with you being a sad emo grunge boy?

A tragic backstory?

SUGA:

A tale for another time.

(like far beyond this time)

Hahaha

Mochi_Moves:

So like

tomorrow?

SUGA:

Someone’s persistent

Why do you wanna know so bad?

Gonna try to fix the depressed grunge boy?

Mochi_Moves:

You’re just an interesting person

Min yoongi

I’ll figure you out c:

SUGA:

That’s hyung to you, brat.

Chat with Mochi_Moves

2015.11.16

02:30

Mochi_Moves:

Did this cheer you up?

c:

He had too much soju last night

SUGA:

You all drank without me

What the fuck

Mochi_Moves:

I’m sorry :c

I’ll invite you next time!

It was a night out for the dance team

But it can just be us the next time

And I’ll bring taehyung

And hoseok

c:

You don’t want to be around the dance team

When they’re drunk

Trust me

SUGA:

I’ll take your word for it.

Mochi_Moves:

But did it cheer you up????

SUGA:

How can I not laugh at his dumb face

Mochi_Moves:

Just don’t tell him

He’ll make me do push ups for days

if he finds out I have this

considering he blacked out

and doesn't remember a thing

heh

SUGA:

I told him you found my number yesterday

He screamed

Then he sent me this:

And asked how gay I was for you

Mochi_Moves:

DELETE THIS NOW

!!!!

SUGA:

No. it brings me joy.

Mochi_Moves:

Yoongi

Whyy

:c

SUGA:

Hey, haven’t you been trying to make me

happy?

It worked.

Mochi_Moves:

That’s true..

My pain is your happiness

c’:

SUGA:

But I told him I wasn’t gay for you

AND THEN

He sent me this:

And said “how about now?”

I just need to know, what was the

occasion?

Mochi_Moves:

Why does hyung still have this

I swear

I’m going to go talk to this..

Brb

He’s in the other room

c:

SUGA:

Tell him I said thank you for our new

Kakao chat background pic

Mochi_Moves:

YOU DIDNT

MIN YOONGI

TELL ME YOU

DIDNT

SUGA:

Mochi_Moves:

That’s..heh

I don’t know what to say to that

Asdfhjkl

That was a performance I did a few years back

For a dance competition

Hoseok hyung begged

I didn’t want to

But i did anyway, it’s hyung

I can’t say no to him

I retired the exposed chest look

So don’t expect another one

C:

Ever

SUGA:

Not to sound gay or anything

But

You have a nice body.

Good job.

Mochi_Moves:

What about you Mint Yoongi?

What do you do?

SUGA:

Write/compose/play music

A lil art here n there

I’m skilled on the piano.

And I have some beats on soundcloud

Mochi_Moves:

Wow! I love a good artist c:

Have you released anything to music companies??

SUGA:

Uh...

Kinda?

Mochi_Moves:

You must be famous! Can I hear some of your work??

SUGA:

I’m about as famous as you.

https://soundcloud.com/bangtan/agustd103

There you go, I guess.

Mochi_Moves:

It sounds amazing!

You’re so talented

One day you could compose a song

For one of my shows???

How cool would that be?!

SUGA:

Woah, take me to dinner first

Mochi_Moves:

So are you asking for a date??

Mint Yoongi

We haven’t even met formally yet…

So fast..

SUGA:

You were the one talking about intimacies

Composing a song for someone is as

intimate as fucking them.

Mochi_Moves:  

Alright alright

Just gay best pals

Who’ve never met

c:

SUGA:

Well are you insinuating that we should get up

get out and go meet somewhere?

Mochi_Moves:

That would be a good start

Besides

Hoseoks been wanting me to meet you for forever now

I just never had the time

Let’s do it for the sake of this poor hyung

SUGA:

It’s a monday morning.

I don’t have class.

We’re getting coffee.

Also

Why is Hobi hyung but you REFUSE TO

CALL ME HYUNG

Mochi_Moves:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Meet me at the campus cafe at 10?

SUGA:

Yeah. Sounds good.

Chat With Mochi_Moves

2015.11.25

13:00

SUGA:

Hey

Heyyy

Heyyyyyyy

Jimin

Ji

Min

Mochi_Moves:

Mint Yoongi?

Hi!

What

What is it?

SUGA:

Did I leave my composition notebook

at your place? I can’t find it

And I’m honestly freaking out

I’m gonna have a panic attack

All my songs are in there

And some stuff I don’t want people

poking around in

Mochi_Moves:

Give me just a second, I’m walking back to my room

I’m almost there

SUGA:

Fuckkkkk

Okay

It’s okay

Mochi_Moves:

Oh goodness

Uh

I found it!

I caught Taehyung holding it, but I don’t think he read anything

I’ve never lurched at him so quickly

Do you want me to drop it off?

c:

SUGA:

Yes <3

Ew

That heart was so entirely

A you thing

Mochi_Moves:

Aw c:

You’re sending hearts now

SUGA:

Did it make yours go bangya bangya

Mochi_Moves:

Just a little

c:

SUGA:

That’s fucking gay wow

Mochi_Moves:

I’ll safely return your notebook now!

I’ll guard it with my life

And I won’t read anything

I promise

<3

SUGA:

Jimin

You’re a true hero

I might end up composing that song for

you if you don’t watch out.

Mochi_Moves:

You want to go to the next base already?

wow

I’m impressed

SUGA:

Don’t get your hopes up, sweetie

My emotional capacity is that of a

teaspoon.

Mochi_Moves:

If you triple the recipe, you’ll get a tablespoon

I just gotta triple my love

And your emotional capacity will go up

c:

SUGA:

Which girl group sang that

Bc that’s what you sound like

It’s pretty gay.

Mochi_Moves:

I live with a gay roommate,

I learn a lot of gay things from him

Now open up Mint Yoongi

I’m outside

SUGA:

I would yell @ you for not calling me hyung

But i want my damn notebook.

I’m coming.

Chat With Mochi_Moves

2015.11.27

02:50

Mochi_Moves:

Mint Yoondi

Min

T

Yonff

Ccd:

SUGA:

Wha

Are you drunk?

Mochi_Moves:

Yeff

Yessd

So muffh soju

Whaff aru yo u ding

SUGA:

Where are you?

Are you safe?

Mochi_Moves:

I jusf go t home

Tae t ae passef out

I wasa bored

And mussed u

SUGA:

You saw me like 7 hours ago

Mochi_Moves:

Oghmygo

Ohmydo

That wascd so lo ng ago

::(

SUGA:

Jimin

You should drink water and go to sleep

Please

For your health

Mochi_Moves:

Im

Im nof tierd

Ill  dinrk wahter though

Aru you still u p wrintinh musi

C

???/

SUGA:

As usual.

Mochi_Moves:

WHAt isi it about this tim e/?

SUGA:

My first love.

Mochi_Moves:

Fird love?

I neve r heARd anything abo ut your love life

Didi somethin rly happen to make u

An emo grunge bo y?

Can you ttell me about it??

SUGA:

Not when you’re drunk.

Ask me when you’re sober.

Mochi_Moves:

Ehehhehfdhe

You sitll won t share about yourself :c

I thoght we were best gay pals

I thoufht we got close enough to talk abuot these kind

Of things

SUGA:

Your hangover is gonna be nasty.

How about

I come over in the morning, bring some fire ramen

And tell you about me.

I just don’t want you to forget the conversation.

Mochi_Moves:

Wooooooooooow

minT yoon gi

The sweetest man

Fire ranen sounds

fantatiiiiiiifc

SUGA:

You bet your ass I’m the sweetest man

I’ll fuck up anyone who says otherwise.

Mochi_Moves:

Sweet as suga r

c:

SUGA:

Damn right i am

Mochi_Moves:

<3/

Chat With The.V.Zone

2015.11.29

15:00

The.V.Zone:

Lstn Yoongz

I saw your notebook

SUGA:

I figured you weren’t above snooping in my shit

Trying to figure me out

Or whatever.

The.V.Zone:

I was nvr a fan of you in the first place

Ill b honest

SUGA:

Understandable.

I used to find you unbearably obnoxious

The.V.Zone

I don’’t kno what my Chim has goin on in his head

But he’s all ovr u these days

And im gttn weird vibes

I dnt feel comfortable with this situation

Bck off a little

Chim is a sensitive soul

I don’t want any1 hurting him

SUGA:

Just curious, but what did you read

The.V.Zone

Smthn abt ur first love

SUGA:

Ah.

That’s uh,

I wrote that about my piano

The.V.Zone

Wut.

SUGA:

Look, my family situation was kinda

Eh

It wasn’t great

So I played piano and wrote music

And well

I fell in love with it.

I think it’s the only thing I’ve ever loved.

The.V.Zone:

…

weLL WHY DIDNT U JUST SAY SO

LOOK @ U

A SOFT EMO BOY FALLIN IN LUV

WITH A

PIANo

Wow u r so gay

SUGA:

My name is literally sugar, why are you all

so surprised to find out i’m nice?

The.V.Zone:

U always look rly grumpy

Like ur ready 2 kill someone

I dnt want my Chim around a murderer

SUGA:

It’s call resting bitch face and I’m sorry it

bothers you.

Jimin is a dear friend to me. I would never

do anything to hurt him.

The.V.Zone:

Well

If u say so

THEN BY ALL MEANS FEEL FREE 2 CUM OVR ANYTIME

But im not kiddin bout backing off

Chims mine

Furever

SUGA:

Wait, are you harbouring romantic

feelings for Jimin?

The.V.Zone:

Am i

Am i harborinfdsf

LMMAAAAAAAAOO

Ohmyg o d

Hyung

Ur so funny

Im crying

Oh dear god no

Im happily taken

But ty for ur concern

SUGA:

See, we don’t talk so I don’t know these

things about you.

Don’t worry

You still and will forever remain Jimin’s #1

The.V.Zone:

Good

But wait

What abt u

R u harboring feelings for my Chim??

SUGA:

…

I liked it better when we weren’t talking

The.V.Zone

Oh

O h

OH

I liked it better when we weren’t talking too.

BUT 2 LATE 4 THAT

SPILL THE JUICES

I WONT TELL I PROMISE

SUGA:

Every single fiber of my being tells me that

that is a lie

The.V.Zone:

:)

U dont kno me

SUGA:

Yeah that’s the problem

The.V.Zone:

Okay

Rmbr Jimin’s recent performance?

U 2 sick with the flu

And cldnt go

SUGA:

:/ I still feel bad about that.

He was so excited for me to watch.

The.V.Zone

Well

I hve pics

V good pics

If u tell me ill send them 2 u

U wont regret

:) :)

SUGA:

You know, I might have misjudged you, Kim Taehyung.

I apologize for that.

The.V.Zone:

U r forgiven

SUGA:

Well. I haven’t told anyone this

but

I have

emotions

regarding a certain person

named

Park Jimin.

The.V.Zone:

*sigh*

Some1 in luv

With my Chim

SUGA:

You throw the word “love” out so easily

I’ve only known him personally for like 2 weeks

The.V.Zone:

Gr8 point

Thats why ur perfct 4 him

An intellectual

I’ll deliver what i promised

Cherish these with ur lyfe

Regrettin that flu yet?

SUGA:

Holy shit

I’m gay

[maqicool]

hey broski do u have any drarry fic recs

Oh, pal, boy do I! I have a short list of long recs here. I’m going to try to make this list more concise than my last, but with more recs. Here’s my effort. These aren’t in any particular order.

Chaos Theory by Brief_and_Dreamy ( 43k )

Summary:  When an ancient spell book is discovered in an abandoned vault, Harry–a Curse-Breaker–and Draco–an Unspeakable–are called in to examine it. Draco does everything in his power to resist Potter’s advances, despite his growing crush. Potter just wants sex, he assumes, and Draco doesn’t want to be used. He discovers, however, that some things simply aren’t within our power to control.

It’s been a while since I read this and I know definitely that it’s been seventy-four fics in the time since this one so my memory might be a little spotty. What I do remember, however, is so much tension (it’s almost palpable — you could probably hold it and cradle it in your hand) and snark and hermione being a bamf. Draco/Ron friendship. Also I’m pretty sure Harry smokes weed in this one. “For pain.” Warning: if you do not have an ao3 account, you may not be able to view it.

Better than an Origami Bird by chibaken and jadepreseley (3k)

Summary: A series of letters in which Harry and Draco argue, play truth or dare, get kinky, and are a couple of very naughty (or very good, depending on who you ask) boys during class.

I enjoyed every single word of this alright? The writers have such a great grip on the characters and write them so believably. I appreciate the hell out of the format which reminded me a bit of chat rp. I loved it. 

Can You Feel the Silence by toasterpapa (12k)

Summary:  “He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.”——————————————————————————————————He wasn’t mute. He could speak perfectly fine, thank you very much, he just decided to only speak when absolutely necessary. Why waste his breath if it wasn’t worth it? If these people didn’t want to listen to his words, he wouldn’t give any to them. It was just better that way. It was easier. It was peaceful.

Let me be the first to say that I did Not Cry. Not at All. This story is filled with the BEST quotes. Either they’re relatable or deep or funny or just pretty. I applaud the writer. Writing a silent character is extremely difficult and some writers can’t do it well. It takes from the character and prevents people from connecting, but THIS PERSON HERE did it splendidly. ( and can i can a hallelujah for draco slowly opening up and being comfortable around harry because i am HERE for it )

Bound to You by agentmoppet (28k)

Summary:  Hag magic is capricious and unruly, and Harry and Draco are bound to stay by each other’s side until they can solve the riddle. In between long car trips, misty rain, and midnight star charts, they begin to understand each other.

This is a story that sat around in my library for a while before I thought fuck it i’m gonna read it today and then I was upset that I’d waited so long because it’s AMAZING !!! There’s a mystery and falling in love and secret beaches and adorable tots. This fic right here is golden. And it has a background/past ship that I’ve always imagined but didn’t think anyone else did and I took solace in the fact that it’s included in this and I am validated. Warning, it’s painful. 

Welcome to the Broom Closet by incapricious (23k)

Summary:  Harry thinks he knows how his life will go: Become an Auror. Marry Ginny. Have a family. But then he sees an advertisement in the paper that no one else can see, and his life is turned upside-down. The Broom Closet: you can be anyone you want while you’re there, but you won’t remember it in the morning.

As stated in my previous list, identity porn is my shit. I love secret identities. I find that they’re amazing. And the reveal is even more amazing. Not to mention in this fic, Harry and Draco essentially fall in love again every night. Man. Wow. Holy. It’s a rollercoaster let me tell you. First oblivious!harry. Then snarky!draco. then anonymous hookups ( with feelings ). Then a surprisingly sad story of a ghost who I didn’t expect to love as much as I did. 

Packing the Flat by marguerite_26 (6k)

Summary:  Months after their explosive break-up, Draco insists Harry return to their flat to remove his belongings.

Hoooo boy- this. This. This. This. I needed some happy ending angst and BOOM this fic appeared. It’s everything. It’s short, emotional and honestly Draco is an idiot I want to fight him, but I have a rule against fighting adorable people so. This has such a satisfying ending, though. Despite the ride it took my emotions on, I was very happy with it. I had this kinda fuck wait awww FU-AWWWWWW  feeling at the ending paragraphs and I loved every moment of it.

Party of Two by fireflavored (13k)

Summary:  Drinking, sex, and a total misreading of the concept of fuck buddies.

This was really cute. It was so cute. I don’t think I stopped smiling or laughing while reading this because these dorks honestly. They’re so cute and clueless. There’s so much to love in this fic. Oblivious!drarry, pining, friends to lovers, aurors, a fuck you to the daily prophet. man it’s so much. I appreciate this fic so much.

Strangers in a Dark Room by shiftylinguini (3k)

Summary: Harry clenches his jaw, sets the files down on the desk between them. “Remind me what you were picked up for again?” he asks pointedly, hands resting over the smooth paper.

“Oh,” Draco shakes his head dismissively, “who can remember. Loitering, was it?”

“Soliciting, Malfoy!”

I have died everyday waiting for this fic. I didn’t know I needed this in my life until after I read it. I’ve read it maybe four times and I still love it so much. I usually don’t go for established relationship because I like to see it develop, but this right here. Oh lord. I love their dynamic and the little blurbs where they break character are so adorable. Draco is such a little shit and Harry loves him for and Draco loves him for loving him for it. This fic is a Yes.

Paradigm by dysonrules (57k)

Summary:  Harry Potter is an Auror and Draco Malfoy is a rentboy, but this is not a typical rentboy story.

I read this maybe six or seven months ago, and I still think about it. Draco is a genius and he’s the most slytherin slytherin there is. You gotta feel bad for Harry though. But you also don’t, because everyone’s having fun. Except maybe … nevermind. Spoilers. But listen, there’s deception and secrets and auror!harry. Draco’s just trying to rebuild his life after the war, okay? The wizengamot were dicks here. I mean, more than usual. 

[sunnystark]

do you have any marvel fics that you'd recommend i'm kind of running out of fics to read, thanks :)

 YAY fic recs are so fun to make honestly thank you! also, i’m pretty much stevetony and specifically tony stark trash so these fics are either superfamily tony stark centric or stevetony. Some are gonna be tumblr format and others are on AO3, if the author is physically linked through a tag that means it’s tumblr format.

For the Tony Centric fics, I’ve put the ship (If it has one) in the summary section, but if it’s in the tony centric area the ship isn’t reeeally that explicit, like it’s either implied, hardly mentioned, or not the main theme of the fic.

for fics that are tumblr posts and don’t have a title I’ve put my favorite line (or just a line that pretty much describes the fic) as the title. 

Platonic Superfamily fics

“You’re Supposed to Be Better Than Me” || by @itsallavengers

“It was just a party,” Peter mumbled, “it’s not like you can talk. Everyone knows what you were like. So why the fuck are y-”

“Because you’re supposed to be better than me!” 

Dating 101 as Described by Tony Stark || by @itsallavengers

“I got a date!” Peter finally got a word in, saying the words a little loudly and then immediately pulling his head up, trying to hear if Aunt May had been woken up from it. The walls were fairly thin, after all.

“I got a date,” he whispered again, when he was sure his Aunt hadn’t been disturbed, “but… I don’t know anything about dating, and I’ve been sat here trying to think about how to go about it for about seven hours now and-”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, sounding irritated, “are you saying that you called me, at 2 in the morning, to ask me how to take someone on a date?”

“Suck It, Howard Stark” || by @orbingarrow

“No, you don’t have to do that, Dr. Stark.  It’s– I know you’re busy,” Peter says.  "It’s not really that important.“Tony knows a lie when he hears one.  Peter’s lying his ass off.“Yeah, I am busy,” Tony agrees.  "Which is why you should use this time wisely and fess up quickly.  What’s the help?“

Friends Protect Each Other || by @transpeter

Flash swears at Ned, but Ned just punches Flash and tells him in a really low voice to “leave Peter alone” and that…. just shakes Peter. Nobody besides his aunt and uncle have called him Peter yet, everyone else deadnames him. It’s almost surreal to be hearing somebody else call him Peter, especially someone he’s never really spoken to.

Just a Spiderman Sickfic || by @toosicktoocare

When Ned fails to get Peter to rest, he goes to the one person he knows will get Peter to listen: Tony Stark.

Stevetony Fics

Touch || by @cptxrogers

Once the team succeeds in bringing Tony back from the magical dimension he’s been trapped in, Steve can’t stop touching him. He doesn’t even notice he’s doing it at first, the way he places a friendly hand on Tony’s shoulder when they’re going through a briefing, or how he’ll bump their elbows together when they’re walking the corridors of the tower.

I’m Hot Like the Prodigal Son || by @ironmanned

*over a grocery store PA*will the owner of the jet black maserati please fuck me

Taking Matters Into One’s Own Hands || by @cptxrogers

Steve just really loves jerking off.

For the “kink: masturbation” square on my stony bingo card.

“You Are Precious, Tony, Hush.” || @itsallavengers

steve always sleeps on the side of the bed facing the door “bECAUSE YOU ARE PRECIOUS TONY HUSH” okay but one if one night while they were asleep baddies did break in to try and snatch tony but were met with 240 pounds of kickass 

The Jar || by Sineala

The Avengers are ridiculously competitive people, and what starts out as a silly late-night team discussion quickly becomes a contest: their names. Not the code names – the nicknames. Who can go the longest without using them? They pledge to spend a week not nicknaming each other, and they’ll pay up every time they mess up. This hits Tony the hardest, and not just financially. Tony’s got a lot of nicknames for everyone, but most of all for Steve – and when Tony can’t use the names he’s already got, the names he uses reveal feelings he had no idea he had.

Love the Sin, Love the Sinner || by silkspectred

It keeps happening. Not often, just once or twice a month, but it keeps happening. Always in the same way: it’s unplanned, sudden, unexpected, Steve is surprised and eager, his dick goes from zero to one hundred in two seconds, Tony’s touch is electric, everything he does drives Steve crazy, but he never lets Steve kiss him, he very rarely looks Steve in the eye, he never talks, never makes a sound when he comes, never mentions it later.

Tony Centric

“He Was Home.” || by @rowantreewrites (insp. original post by @kayvsworld

Every time Tony Stark smiles, a star is formed to make the night sky brighter.

And the Stars are Too Much || by @magpiewords

“Oh no.” Tony managed to mumble before everything seemed to fade away. Like his body went offline, he couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. He knew the stars weren’t getting closer, knew the wide expanse of space wasn’t somehow closing in on him. No matter how much he knew, logical was useless against this.

**steve/tony

Hide a Heart of War || by RayShippouUchiha

“You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.”

Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

**steve/tony/bucky

[sidenote: if anyone knows of any more tony stark centric fics that either don’t have ships or the ship isn’t a main element of the fic, PLEEEASE let me know dude those fics are SUCH GOOD SHIT honestly they’re my favorites. like even if u write them, they could be 100 word long ficlets tAG ME IN THAT SHIT]

[katalyna-rose]

Hey, I just want to start out saying you are an amazing writer. Your nsfw stuff is A1 and the narratives u entwine with it is even better! I love Lyna and the way you write Solas and Thema is perfect and the whole idea of the marriages being so uniquely binding is super cool! I'm also a writer but I don't write fan fiction and I was looking for the opinion as to whether I should create a blog for my original content or not and youre like super cool so I was hoping u could offer some advice?

*looks around blankly* … Me?

I… I am so honored? That you like my writing?

Are you the nonnie who asked me about BDSM? Because I don’t usually get nonnies and honestly I love questions like that! Even if I did just out myself… >.

To be perfectly honest with you, nonnie, I still think I have a long way to go with my writing in general. There’s so much more I want to be able to do and thus far I haven’t done as well as I’d wish. Though I suppose it’s a common problem for any creators! Still, I often wish I could do better. My version of better… But I’m still trying! And that’s the important part.

Okay, I love the marriage concept. That one is my own personal headcanon that I created before the 3some AU was even a thought in the backs of my and @thema-sal-shiral‘s heads, something I planned throughout the entirety of my main fic Vhenan. It’s one of my favorite concepts and I have a whole rant on why, to be honest! I’m glad you appreciate it!

Anyway, on to your question!

Well, tumblr is honestly a difficult place to gain recognition. If you have a following already for your original work, it may be a good idea to expand by also placing it here. However, if you’re just starting out or don’t have much of a following, then you’re going to be frustrated here. As much as you seem to think I have influence here, I’m actually pretty small-time. I have fewer than two hundred followers and the average number of notes I get on any piece is about twenty. There are outliers, of course, with my most popular work (that I’m aware of, at least) having approximately two hundred notes on it. My “popular” works get about fifty to sixty notes. Most of my work sits at about fifteen notes. I’m pretty small! This is despite the fact that I churn out content like nobody’s business (this is the thing most people say when they comment about me as a writer) and the events I’ve participated in (Sub!Solas Week, among others) and the groups I’ve joined (the most notable being @dadrunkwriting) and all the self-promotion I’ve done by reblogging my own work and always linking anything I reference to its source (see the link for Vhenan and 3some AU above!). I see far more traffic on Archive of Our Own than I do on tumblr.

However, having tumblr to sort of supplement my AO3 has proven quite useful. Even though my work gets little notice here, I know a lot of people will see something I’ve written and like it, then follow all the many pointing fingers to my AO3, where they may find more that suits their interests. AO3 is incredibly convenient for a lot of reasons, the biggest being that my writing is all in one easily-accessible and well-organized place. If I had AO3 without tumblr, I think my visibility there would be cut in half, at least. But if I had tumblr without AO3 I would have far fewer loyal readers because the formatting of tumblr makes it difficult for the casual reader to really get a good idea of my writing. Perhaps if I blogged nothing but my writing it might be different, but even so not a lot of people are going to read through an entire blog like that. It isn’t why most of them are here, I think.

So I think if you have other sites or are published, this could be a very good way to supplement your popularity. It can be frustrating in the beginning to try to find your target audience (I’ve been here about a year and about half my followers came to me within the last three months or so) but eventually you will settle into your niche. With luck (and skill!) that niche will only grow as you keep writing and branch out. On the other hand, if you only have tumblr and no other sites, I think you will find it more frustrating than anything to put your work out here and have it almost entirely ignored. I would hate for you to become discouraged by this site!

I’m sure my insight is not the only insight out there and I encourage you to seek a second or third opinion if you’re still unsure. In the end, I suppose it depends on how much work you’re willing to put into self-promotion within tumblr itself. If you aren’t proactive in your own popularity, chances are you won’t have much!

Whatever you decide about making a blog, I hope you will keep on writing!

[blt-prf]

honestly thank u so much for taking the time to update because i know ao3s formatting thing can sometimes be a whole mess with adding pictures and whatnot so i know it takes a lot of work. i appreciate it a lot. i love u and the story a whole bunch, i've been reading since chap1 and it's just getting better and i'm like :')

I lost count of how many times I was editing a chapter and ao3 crashed so I had to stare at the screen in disappointment and eventually start over haha so thank you a lot for saying that 💖

[ripplestitchskein]

How to Become a Witch in Ten Easy Lessons - (5/5)-A CS Modern Fantasy AU - COMPLETE!

Rating: T for Teen

Word Count: Approx 7K

Summary:  Emma Swan leads a quiet, solitary life, that is until a tragedy temporarily saddles her with three recently displaced orphans. Three recently displaced orphans who make quick work of discovering one of the reasons for her solitude and threaten to confirm the rumors swirling around town about her, unless she can do something to help them, something that will require the assistance of a mysterious Professor who isn’t quite what he seems either.

Read Part One Here!

Read Part Two Here!

Read Part Three Here!

Read Part Four Here!

On AO3 Here

______

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Emma called down to him from the deck of the ship, the children twined around the railing looking down at him excitedly. He stood knee deep in the water, his long coat floating on the surface, moving with the waves.

“You haven’t known me long,” he called back up to her. “I can assure you it’s not.”

“I really, really don’t like this plan,” she reminded him.

“I’m more than aware, but we have limited time and limited options, so can we please stop yelling and letting the whole bloody realm know what we’re up to?”

Emma sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm her rapidly firing nerves, ignore the twisting in her stomach that screamed that this was a terrible, terrible idea.

He smiled up at her reassuringly, giving her a small nod. From his hook dangled the unused oil lamp from the hold below, glinting gold in the sun, looking as if a genie would issue forth from it at any moment. It would honestly be the least weird thing that had happened to them lately.

Emma took another deep steadying breath, holding out her hands, closing her eyes for the words of the spell, holding the picture of what she wanted in her mind. She tried to push all thoughts of him drowning, dying, being eaten by a terrifying sea creature aside and focus on what she needed, the animal she had in mind, no better choice for the man before her.

The sharp spark of power roared through her blood, so much more potent and just more in this realm of magic. It emboldened her slightly, this could really work. No this would work, the alternative wasn’t an option.

Below her Killian closed his eyes, wincing slightly in trepidation as she began to speak the words aloud. An electric shock of energy issued forth, a billowing cloud of white blue smoke enveloping him, and when she blinked down at him again, Killian was no longer there, a huge navy shadow in the water instead, longer than Killian had ever been tall.

A huge, shimmering swordfish, its dorsal fin protruding from the water like a shark, swam in a large arcing circle by the ship where Killian had stood, building up momentum, and then it burst from the water in a shimmering spray, the lamp gleaming as bright as the droplets running down its flank, arcing in a smooth crescent before disappearing back into the bay.

He was telling her he was okay. He was letting her know it had worked. She could feel it, as she watched the massive shape pivot and swim away, out into the sea towards The Sands and The Kraken.

She let out a breath, her hands shaking, feeling sick and anxious as she watched him go. Roland reached up taking her hand in his own.

“He’ll be fine, swordfishes are awesome,” the boy said wisely.

“He’s very brave,” Grace observed, hiding a hand over her eyes to block the sun so she could see the fish better, growing smaller and smaller as the distance increased.

“Yes,” Emma whispered, almost breathless, heart soaring. Doing those gymnastics again.  “Very brave.”

“Dead, is a word I would use,” said a clipped accented voice from behind them.

Emma whirled, shoving the children behind her as Arthur landed with a dull thud of boots on the deck. He was dressed bizarrely, a sickly yellow orange  jumpsuit, covered in straps and copper rivets, obscured his form, a heavy helmet under one arm, a vicious looking harpoon gun under the other.

Behind him heavily armored soldiers began fanning out, swords drawn, surrounding them in a half moon formation that left them no option of escape except to leap over the rail into the sea.

Arthur grinned at her, all charm and white teeth, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Emma swallowed, clutching tightly at Roland’s trembling hand, her other going desperately to her waist, but her sword was in the cabin below, her gun a realm away.

“Take the children,” Arthur ordered, waving his hand almost boredly, still holding the helmet and gun under his arms. The guards moved forward en masse, a wall of plate armor and expressionless faces. Emma braced herself, putting her body between them and the children, ready to fight. But there were far too many, her fists ringing painfully which each blow against the metal, the force vibrating up her leg as she kicked at them.

Grace screamed as one of them grabbed her around the waist, hauling her up bodily, her legs bicycling in terror as she thrashed, trying to get free. Henry threw his book at the face of one of the guards, spinning it like a frisbee and ducked low under a reaching arm, trying to squirm away. There were still more waiting though, and they grabbed him by the ankle, dragging him painfully across the wooden deck back to the mass of soldiers.

One of the guards wrenched her to the side, an iron grip on her arm, and Roland leapt forward pulling away from her clutching hand. Emma tried to drag him back but her arms were yanked painfully behind her, her shoulders screaming in protest.

The tiny boy lurched fiercely forward, his teeth sinking into the flesh and fabric of a nearby leg, hanging on for a moment like a small feral dog. The man howled, trying to simultaneously grab the boy and shake him off. Roland let go, nimbly avoiding the grasping hands, until Arthur reached out, snagging the child by his borrowed vest, the tip of the harpoon dangerously close to his face, and shoved him forcefully into the chest of a waiting soldier. The man clamped his arms around the squirming boy with ease, locking him in place.

“Please, don’t,” Emma could barely breathe terror had seized her so tightly, she pulled against the tight grip of the men holding her, uselessly stamping her foot down on heavy metal clad boots.

“Take them to the beach,” Arthur said impassively. “Await my instructions.” They obeyed, obedient little lapdogs, dragging the children away, hissing and screeching, their feet scraping across the deck. They disappeared over the side with their captors, one after another. Her heart gave a painful snapping lurch with each one.

“Emma!” Henry cried out, his voice breaking with fear.

Emma’s eyes burned, rage and frustration twisting her face as she yanked, pulled and kicked, trying whatever she could to get back to them. There were too many, at least four large men, rock solid and immovable staying behind to hold her down. Arthur stared at her from across the deck, eyes wide and deranged, his lips tilted in an amused smile at her struggles. She wanted to rip his face off, tear him limb from limb, break each of his tooth straight white teeth one by one.

“Now, witch,” Arthur said lowly, slinking closer. “You are going to do everything I say, or one word from me and I’ll shut those little brats up forever.” He had leaned down her level, unfortunately just out of reach of her head, his breath hot and sickly sweet on her face.

“Please,” Emma tried again, a different tact this time, her voice desperate and broken. “Please, don’t hurt them.”

“That depends entirely on your cooperation,” Arthur warned reasonably. He looked speculatively up at the sails, surveying the ship with distaste.

“What do you want?” Emma could still hear the shrieking cries of the children on the beach as they struggled, growing fainter as they were taken further and further away. Panic swelled in her chest.

“Not much,” Arthur said. “I want this ship.”

“You can have it,” Emma said quickly, knowing in her heart Killian wouldn’t object, not really, not if it meant the children were safe. She may not know him well, but she knew that to her very bones, he would readily give up his home to save their lives.

“I’m not finished yet,” Arthur snapped. “And you. I need you to do whatever you did to move it before.”

Emma swallowed.

“Where do you want to go?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“Why the same direction as your leather clad lover,” he motioned out into the bay with the harpoon. “I want to see The Beast.”

“But you said,” Emma swallowed some of the terror, straightening up, shoulders back. “You said it couldn’t be defeated.”

“And it can’t,” Arthur said cheerfully. He held up the odd helmet under his arm, a diving bell, the kind in old movies and museums. “But it can be distracted, and destroying this ship should serve well enough for that I think.”

“But why?” Emma shook her head confused. “Killian is getting the Sands right now. He’ll give them to you, I know he will.”

“You expect me to believe that? ‘We can’t let Arthur get his hands on them, no matter what’, “ Arthur echoed, his voice high pitched and mocking.

Emma reeled back at Henry’s words coming verbatim out of his mouth.

“How-?” She let the question trail off. He stepped forward, his hand reaching out, grabbing the seashell necklace around her throat, and pulling down with a hard snap. Her neck burned as it broke, the cord scraping her skin, and she stifled a cry, gritting her teeth.

“A little bit of mermaid magic,” his teeth flashed white as he looked at it. “Very useful, a reluctant gift from some visitors awhile back. Much like this suit. Pity their ship didn’t survive the trip, it would have been quite useful.” He glared at her, his eyes icy. “I heard every word.”

He leaned back into her face, sneering.

“And I know that you know who I am, and I also know that you know what the Sands can do, and I won’t give that thieving pirate scum the opportunity to use them against me.” He spat the words, his face ugly with disdain. Emma reared back trying to put some distance between them.

“But you have hostages,” Emma argued. “You have us right where you want us. He’ll negotiate.”

“And I should what, let you go? Let you turn the rest of my village against me?” He shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.” He pointed up at the sails, all business. “Move the ship.”

“No,” Emma glared at him defiantly, nostrils flaring.

“Move the ship or I will kill your children one by one, right in front of you. I was going to spare them, use the sands to ensure their silence, but if you insist” he said cheerfully and grinned. “We’ll start with the smallest I think, less mess if you change your mind.” He turned, half raising a hand to signal the waiting men on the beach.

“No! Wait!” Emma sagged. “Okay, okay I just need a second.”

“Tick, tock witch. No use stalling for time. I know you expect the pirate to return any moment,” he held up the harpoon gun, the tip glinting dangerously. “I have a little gift for him if he does. So if you want him to live you’ll be quick about it.”

She thought of Killian, vulnerable in his current form, unaware that anything was amiss, believing they had the upper hand, that they still held the element of surprise. The wicked edges of the spear would slice through him with no issue, unprotected and unaware, human or not. She let out a little noise of frustration.

“Fine. Let me go,” she barked at her captors. They looked to the king who nodded his assent and then she was free, four swords pointed squarely at her.

“Get on with it,” he gestured impatiently.

Emma raised a trembling hand, her fingers clenching. She could still hear the kids yelling for her from the beach, broken cries of her name and desperate angry pleas to let them go. She closed her eyes, one tear streaking down her cheek, and began to speak the words.

_____  )

It was less intense this time, her heart not in it, but the golden glow flew from her fingertips regardless, enveloping the ship from top to bottom in a trickle of magic, everything glowing and shimmering. The guards gasped, stepping back a bit in awe and Arthur grinned a manic grin.

The ship creaked and groaned as it slid across the sand, tilting sharply to the side, water crashing around the hull as it plunged from the beach back into the sea. Emma took a breath still chanting, fingers warm and prickling from the intensity of her magic, the ship turning as she willed, pointing out into the ocean once again. Ropes twisted of their own accord, and the sails filled with air, snapping backwards as the wind picked up. The ship moved faster.

One by one the guards leapt from the sides, faces fearful, splashing into the sea with fearful cries, a pre-planned abandon ship before they got to close to the monster. She hoped they drowned.

It was just her and Arthur then, her eyes burning with hate, his with glee as he pointed the harpoon squarely at her chest. She moved to turn her focus, turn her magic on him, the ropes lifting to her command, but he tutted.

“If I do not return my men are under strict orders to kill them,” Arthur yelled casually over the the whipping wind. “Make one move against me Emma and they’re as good as dead.”

He motioned back up to the sails, and Emma kept going, closing her eyes as they came closer and closer to where the crystal clear water became darker, a thin line of gradient blue marking the point of no return.

“Stop! Stop!” Arthur commanded. She lowered her hands, trembling with effort and unchecked anger. She clenched her fists. The sails dropped, hanging limp and useless, the ropes landing with dull thuds on the deck.

The ship rocked and swayed in ominous silence, creaking and groaning on the sea.

Arthur peered over the railing into the black waters below.

They were silent, and still.

Emma’s heart thudded painfully in her chest, marking the seconds of silence, stretching out tense and cold as they bobbed uselessly along.

“Perhaps The Beast is busy enjoying a pirate sized meal,” Arthur speculated cheerfully, donning his helmet, checking the thick rubber tubes from the metal tanks in his back, his eyes never leaving her, the harpoon pointed at her with deadly intent.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the ship gave a massive lurch, pitching them both to the deck. Emma’s hands slapped painfully on the wood. Arthur rolled, barely catching himself, and staggered to his feet.

“Right on time,” she heard him declare in a hollow echo from inside the helmet just as the monster gave a deafening shriek. The sound tore through the air, her stomach jolting in fear, a thousand tiny hairs rising on her neck and arms.

“This is where I leave you, Emma,” Arthur nodded to her as the ship lurched again, his rubber gloved hand grabbing onto the rail just in time to keep him from pitching into the deck. A slick dark tentacle rose into the air, towering above them, at least a hundred feet high. Arthur cried out as it slammed into the deck, just inches from him, wood splintering and spraying.

Emma fell backwards onto her ass, scrambling away as it whipped and probed, writhinglike a giant python. She looked frantically to Arthur. She couldn’t let him escape.

The shipped rocked again as Arthur climbed to his feet, readying himself to climb the rail but Emma was faster, the words coming easily, leaving her lips in a rush, adrenaline shooting through her as she chanted. The ship glowed gold again, tried to move, but the monster was stronger, four more humongous tentacles hugging it close, the wood cracking and snapping under the force of its grip.

A golden hued rope snaked out, lashing itself around Arthur’s leg, holding him in place. He cursed and kicked at it, trying to reach the railing. Emma moved her hand again, another rope surging down, grabbing him by the arm. The harpoon dropped uselessly onto the deck, skittering close. She couldn’t afford to grab it though, she had to keep trying to free the ship, had to stop Arthur. She kept chanting, her teeth chattering as cold sea water rained down on them from above. Another rope lashed him to the rail, holding him in place, yet another coming forward to twine with the first. The ship just knew what to do, even as it broke apart it helped her.  Arthur screamed at her, voice muffled and distorted by the metal helmet, red faced and enraged in the small grated window of the dome.

The Beast shrieked again, that unnatural cry that set her teeth on edge, twisting tentacles swinging wildly. One struck the mast and to her horror it snapped cleanly in two, as easy as breaking a twig. Emma barely got out of the way as the massive column crashed onto the deck, the planks buckling and breaking under the force. Her concentration shattered, the golden glow fading as she stumbled over the words, trying to remain upright, her magic petering out.

She was going to die.

The noise and roar of the breaking ship, the shrieks of the beast, and the raining water was deafening as she tried to reach the rail, if she could get herself overboard, get into the water perhaps she could make it to shore.

It was a long shot but it was her only shot.

She reached out as the world tilted, the deck caving in the middle, a smooth slide straight into the creature’s gaping mouth. She looked down in horror at several rings of teeth and slime rotating below her. She shrieked, her feet scrambling against the deck and braced herself against gravity, her fingers barely grasping a rung of the rail as the ship crumbled and fell apart around her.

Across the deck she could see Arthur’s orange yellow form struggling against the knotted ropes, helmet lost, hair matted to his reddened, terrified face. Emma turned away, pulling herself up with all the strength she possessed, the wood slick, her feet dangling as the deck rose higher and higher, the ship sinking lower and lower as the demon consumed, wood and sail and rope disappearing into its maw, folding the ship in half.

She closed her eyes again, her voice lost in the din as she desperately chanted, focusing her magic inward, her fingers too busy holding on for dear life to focus the spell. She had no idea if it would work, but she tried anyway, speaking faster and faster, stumbling over the syllables as her voice shook with terror, the sharp gnashing teeth getting closer and closer as the deck disappeared one gnash at a time.

She heard Arthur’s desperate terrified screams even over the noise, and blocked it out, speaking faster.

It started slowly, a buzzing in her limbs, a warm glow like trickling water moving over her body. She glowed gold, feeling weightless as she rose, her hands releasing the deck as her body lifted into the air.

It was working. She wanted to scream in delight.

Emma chanted faster, desperately, her body hanging suspended in the air, the ship a mass of unidentifiable blue and yellow boards now, Arthur gone. She closed her eyes and willed herself higher, willed herself closer to shore.

A whipping tentacle lashed out, flying through the air. It struck her squarely in the back, pain lancing through her and Emma fell like a rock, down, down into the water below.  

_____

The sea was icy cold, a million needles jabbing at her skin as she swirled and tumbled in the churn. Her lungs burned, eyes wide in terror as she kicked her legs, trying to find which way was up. Everything was black fog, no light broke through here, and debris swirled in the water around her.

She stretched herself upwards, hands reaching, saying a silent prayer that this was up, that she was just a few moments away from breaking the surface. Red rimmed her eyes, her vision growing narrower and blacker as her mouth opened, body straining against the need to suck in air, knowing she’d only fill her lungs with sea water instead if she did. She made small desperate whimpers, kicking fiercely, fighting against the swirling water.

Something flashed in her periphery and she cried out, her scream nothing more than muted noise and bubbles as something dark and silvery streaked by her. The kraken.

She screamed again desperately, a gurgling cry, her legs working harder, arms flailing, trying to get away as her vision narrowed further, red and black taking over as her oxygen ran out, as her consciousness fled.

Something large and hard struck her side, sharp burning pain glancing across her ribs, but she barely registered it over the pain of not breathing, her senses dulling with each second that passed, and then she was rising, lifting, her arm draped across rough cold flesh and scales.

She surged through the water, the mass propelling her upwards, and then they broke the surface with a spray of salty water, and the shriek of her gasping air back into her burning lungs. She panted, and gulped in more and more precious oxygen, wrenching sobs of terror joining the tears streaking down her cheeks. Her side burned, cloudy muted red blood filling the water.

The shape circled again, pressing into her, gentler this time, still too hard but familiar and beautiful.

“Killian,” she sobbed out, recognizing him.

Across the water the monster shrieked.

The fish that was Killian swam away, turning in a wide arc, and gracelessly rammed into her side again, her arm reaching around to clutch a spiny fin, the scales cutting into her fingers and arm as he pulled her quick as he could through the water.

The monster shrieked, a surge of water as it moved pushing them faster forward, but the land grew closer and closer with every passing second. She glanced behind her, massive tentacles waved in the sky, a giant bulbous head sinking beneath the waves, nothing left of the beautiful ship but debris.

She wanted to apologize, to tell him she was sorry, but she was unsure if he would hear her, unsure if he would even understand as he swam them closer and closer to the shore.

The form under her shifted, seemed to melt away, rough scales shrinking, morphing, becoming warm flesh and leather. She released the fin, kicking herself away in the water, watching fascinated as pale sky blue smoke enveloped the creature, a man breaking the surface of the water with a gasp an instant later.

He clutched the golden lamp to his chest with his hook, legs kicking, his arm treading the water. He looked disoriented and afraid for an instant, hair plastered to his beautiful human face. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and sob, but there was no time. They had to get to shore, get away from the creature and back to the children.

“Emma?” He looked at her bewildered for a second, reaching out automatically.

“The kids,” she gasped out, straining to keep afloat, her legs moving constantly, treading the icy water. He nodded, teeth chattering and reached out, looping her arm over his shoulder. She wasn’t a weak swimmer, but Killian was better, a life at sea giving him an edge as he helped move them agonizingly slowly to shore.

The bay was silent behind them as they swam, the monster sated for now.

____

They skulked along the shore line, staying close to the line of the brush. Killian’s sword was out, the lamp safely in the pocket of his coat. Emma limped along beside him, a large rock in her hand, the only weapon she could find on such short notice, her other hand pressed to her burning side.

Killian cut his eyes to her, frowning, air hissing between his teeth.

“I’m so sorry love,” he whispered and reached out, his sword hand hovering over the wound. “I couldn’t gauge….” he trailed off, face pinched in anguish that he had hurt her. Emma forced a smile.

“It’s not your fault, you were trying to help me,” she said softly and grabbed his wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You saved me. It’s not very deep, just a scratch.”

He didn’t seem comforted by that, but there was no time to press further.

“There’s at least six of them,” Emma hissed as they crept closer. “Big guys, armor, swords. The whole deal.”

“Won’t be a problem,” his voice was low with murderous rage, teeth clenched. He was seething mad, his eyes glancing every so often to the wound at her side, her limping gait, her body one big bruise. “I’m going to kill him.” He breathed out.

“I think you’re a bit late,” Emma said. “The squid thing kind of ate him.” She thankfully hadn’t seen said eating, but she doubted she would forget the agonized screams over splintering wood any time soon.

“Good.” That pretty much summed up her feelings as well. They moved quickly along the shore, rounding the curve of the island, back to the same shore where the ship had been.

What awaited them was not at all what Emma was expecting. Instead of half a dozen guards and three terrified captive children she was met with the rapidly moving forms of Henry, Grace, and a struggling Roland, running towards them across the sand.

Behind them four men clanked and clanged, giving chase, their heavy armor slowing them down, their faces enraged.

“Emma!” Roland cried desperately, spotting her. He almost tripped and stumbled but Henry and Grace had firm holds on his arms, pulling him along.

Killian roared forward, his sword and hook out, veering around the children to come head on at the approaching guards.

Emma stopped briefly, running her free hand along their hair and faces, resolving to ask what happened later, and then followed him into the fray.

He moved like liquid lightning, his sodden coat billlowing out behind him, his face twisted in rage. His sword clanged, a booted foot kicking one guard into another, firmly planted in the plate armor of his chest. They fell in a tangle of bodies, another guard swinging wide to avenge them. He caught the sword with his hook, twisting his wrist. The sword flew, landing in the sand and Emma grabbed it, holding it before her.

Further up the beach two more guards limped in their direction. She swung the sword wide like a baseball bat, the flat connecting solidly with the metal chest of the fourth, pain vibrating up her arm from the force, her side burned but she pushed it away, focusing on the men before her.

Killian sent the pommel of his sword straight into a waiting guard’s temple, the man’s helmet buried in the sand where he had fallen, ducking just in time to avoid the swinging sword of the other. It was pretty amazing to watch, all grace and speed and confidence, her heart pounded, but there was no time to admire his form, she swung out again, wild uneducated strokes, one of the guards backing away at her crazy unpredictability.

“Emma, your magic!” Henry screamed from behind her.

“My magic,” she breathed, suddenly remembering, her arms feeling weak and rubbery. “Right. I have that.”

She closed her eyes briefly, metal clanging in her ear, panting breaths and angry grunts. Killian roared again. She opened her eyes, the words there again and spoke them in a rush, electricity zipping down her arm.

There was another whirl of smoke, first one than the other, one by one, pinkish red clouds filling the air.

In an instant six chittering chattering monkeys appeared on the sand, one barely dodging the swing of Killian’s sword. He overbalanced at the unexpected change in his assailant, his sword dropping into the sand. He looked at them baffled for a moment as they scrambled away, shrieking down the beach in terror.

He turned to Emma, that ridiculous cheeky expression on his face again.

“Oh, were they cute too?”

Emma smiled weakly at him, rolling her eyes as she tried to keep herself upright.

It felt like all the energy had drained from her body, her side throbbed.

“I just like monkeys, I told you,” she said. Killian’s face dropped into concern, barely getting to her in time to catch her before she fell into the sand. She leaned against him, warm and solid, smelling of sweat and sea water, and breathed him in, not caring for a moment if she should.

“You were amazing,” Killian said softly, shifting to help her stand again, taking on more of her weight.

“So were you,” she smiled up at him, a bit breathlessly, his blue eyes shining. He glanced briefly at her lips, his face flickering with indecision when the kids’ exuberant cries carried up along the beach.

“Emma!”

“Killian!”

“Did you get it!”

“Did it work?”

“That was so cool! They just ran away.” One of them made mocking monkey noises and they skidded to a halt in front of the adults. Emma reluctantly pulled away from the warmth of his arms, steadying herself as the kids crowded around.

Killian shuffled to the side, awkward and unsure in the face of such an exuberant reunion, busying himself scanning for more guards.

One by one they circled them, Roland’s hands clutching her soaked dress, Grace and Henry bouncing around her excitedly.

“Did you get it?” Henry repeated, looking at him expectantly. Killian paused for a moment silent. Henry’s face fell a fraction before Killian withdrew the shining gold lamp from his coat, his face breaking into a grin.

“‘Course I did. Was there ever any doubt?” Before he could say another word three yelling and cheering children were upon him, tackling him bodily to the ground.

“This again,” he grunted from the sand, the lamp held aloft, smiling up at them despite himself.

“You did it, you did it!” Killian laughed, gently batting the children away, rising awkwardly to his feet.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Grace whispered to Emma, her eyes shining. The day was catching up to her Emma could see it on her face. Emma smiled.

“You too, I was so worried,”’she looked at the three of them her heart swelling, threatening to burst.

The rushed towards her, wrapping tiny arms around her waist, careful to avoid her burning ribs, Roland clutching at her leg. She pulled away slightly, looking down at them with a confused frown.  “How did you guys get away, anyway?”

“The daggers!” Henry exclaimed. “We still had the daggers Killian gave us!”

“Roland hit one of them in the shin with the telescope,” Grace declared proudly.

“I poked one of them in the leg,” Henry said. “And Grace hit her guy in the face with hers.”

“I couldn’t get it out of the thing,” the girl blushed.

“You did great,” Emma said, resting a gentle hand on her head. She hugged them back to her again, three warm bodies filling her chest with something undefinable. When she opened her eyes Killian was grinning at her over their heads.

“Where’s the ship?” Roland asked, looking behind them, searching for it. Emma’s face fell, and she looked to Killian, the delighted smile fading as he remembered. Her heart broke at the expression on his face, pure unadulterated anguish for a brief instant, his eyes shining in the sun. He looked away, his jaw clenching, a muscle fluttering in his cheek.

“Killian,” she untangled herself from the kids, all of them deflating when they realized the implication.

He turned back to her, his face stretched in an unnatural grin, his teeth straining his lips. His eyes were unnaturally wide, red rimmed and unable to completely hide his emotions.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” he said finally after a moment, the sincerity outweighing everything else.

“But your ship,” she said helplessly.

“Is just a ship,” he said firmly.

“But it was your home,” she wanted to bury herself in the sand. She wanted to wrap him in her arms and let him weep against her neck. She wanted to press her hand along his brow, stroke down his jaw, and let him mourn. But he waved it off, turning away again, his back ramrod straight and tense, his eyes stuck hard on the sea.

“We should go,” he said finally, his voice steady but hoarse. “Before more of them come.”

Emma let out a breath and nodded, wanting to cry.

“Henry?” She looked at the boy. “The bean.”

Henry’s face fell further, his eyes going wide with fear.

“Henry?” She tried again. Dread filled her chest.

“It was in my pants,” he motioned down to his borrowed clothes. “My pants were on the ship. I forgot it when I changed.” He looked like he might cry. “Killian told me to keep my dagger but I forgot about the bean.”

“Well we had more,” Emma said. “A whole bag.”

Henry sucked in a breath looking like he was going to cry.

“I hid them in a trunk in the hold,” he whispered. Emma’s stomach sank.

“We can’t get back,” she whispered, mostly to herself. “Without the beans we’re stuck here.”

“No. We’re not.”

Killian reached into his pocket, pulling out a small black pouch, his finger probing inside it for a moment, and then he dropped it into the sand, holding up one shimmering clear bean between his fingers.

“What? How?” Emma’s jaw dropped.

“When I gave you the dagger,” he looked at Henry apologetically. “I took it from your pocket. Pirate.” He shrugged, seemingly embarrassed.

Henry patted his leg as if the bean should still be there, bewildered.

“You had that the whole time?” Emma accused. His face morphed to shame and he nodded, casting his eyes down.

“Aye.”

“You could have left all this time?” She said incredulous. “You didn’t have to do any of this?”

He looked up in shock at her words but Emma was already moving, crossing the beach in quick running strides, ignoring the pain in her back and her side to crash into him. He grunted on impact, his clenched fist going around her waist automatically to steady her, the flat of his hook at her hip as she grabbed into the thick leather lapels of his coat and yanked him into her space, pressing her lips to his.

He gasped into her mouth, shocked and frozen for a brief moment before he was kissing her back, his mouth hot, his arms clutching. She kissed him with all she had, everything that she had pushed below the surface, her fingers moving, snaking around his neck, tangling into damp hair, tongue teasing his bottom lip. He hoisted her up a bit, leaning her back, gathering her to him just as desperately, pressed together from chest to toes. A small moan into her mouth vibrated against her lips, tugged at a place behind her bellybutton, heat trailing down her spine, all that fear and adrenaline surging between them.

“Gross,” Roland said from behind them.

Emma broke the kiss off with a laugh, pressing her face, flushed red with embarrassment into his neck, shaking.

“You could have gone home,” she whispered into his neck, mouth pressing up along his jaw, stubble rough on her lips as she spoke the words. His arms squeezed her tighter.

“No. I couldn’t,” he whispered back, his cheek pressing against her temple, closed fist moving to her hair.

Emma pulled back, looking into his face, his blue eyes blown black, raw and open, barely rimmed in blue.

“Come with us,” she said softly. “Back to Storybrooke.”

“I don’t have much of a choice,” he laughed nervously, leaning back to show her the single bean.

“Stay with us,” she amended, her hand finally getting its chance to smooth along the plane of his jaw, all the sincerity in the world in her eyes. “All of us.”

He swallowed, disbelieving, blinking away the shock, the lust in his eyes replaced with a spark of hope at her words. When he spoke again it was choked and strained with emotion.

“Aye.”

_____

“Are we ready?” Emma looked at gathered children. All of them nodded with excitement, their faces dirt smudged and  exhausted, but happy. She smiled down at them, and looked behind her to the man still kneeling by the shoreline. She frowned, worried.

“Killian?” She motioned for the children to wait, and turned, walking down to join him. “Are you ready?”

“Aye, love.” He forced a smile, and stood up. She looked down to his hand, a wooden disc, roughly the size of a silver dollar flipped between his fingers. A piece of his ship. Several more bits of debris were coming in with the tide, left behind as the waves rolled back out to the sea.

“Oh,” she breathed out. “Do you…need a minute? To say goodbye to her?”

He shook his head, smiling sadly down at the sand.

“No,” he said, his voice hitched a bit and he gulped. He shoved the little disc into his pocket, sucking in a steadying breath. Emma reached out, awkwardly taking his hand in her own, lacing their fingers together.

“She was a beautiful ship,” she said.

“Aye. Best ship in all the realms,” he repeated his description from earlier, looking out over the water.

“I’m so sorry Killian,” Emma whispered.

“Don’t be,” he cast the sad smile to her, his hand squeezing. “Come on, love.” He turned them, swinging their arms slightly as they began the journey back to the waiting children.

“Let’s go home.”

Her heart stuttered at the simple word, so much more now than it had been before.

“Okay.” She took out the bean, looking at the three eager faces, at the man beside her, and smiled as she tossed it onto the sand.

_____

The New Storybrooke Orphanage was the fastest building erected in the history of the state. Possibly the country, no one could be sure.  An anonymous donor swept in and closed the site on a Friday, construction cones and orange and white striped barricades keeping the town far away from grounds.

Permits miraculously were found in files no one had touched, drawn up, approved and signed in record time. An unknown construction crew had descended on the site and completed in days what would have taken weeks or months. It was a town wide miracle. One no one could seem to figure out.

The town buzzed with the news, wondering who the mysterious donor could be, the only new face in town the dashing Professor Jones of postal service infamy, the name from so many odd little packages, here now in the flesh, the rumored long distance boyfriend of the reclusive Sheriff’s deputy, the boyfriend who now inhabited her house though no moving vans had ever been seen.

He certainly didn’t look like any professor they had seen before, dark, brooding and favoring black leather. The timing of his arrival was suspect though, his financial status unknown, so assumptions were made, and Granny refused to take his money in the diner despite his bewildered protests.

The displaced orphans moved into the building on a Thursday, everything new and gleaming. There were mountains of presents on each of their beds, Christmas in July, new clothes in their bureaus, and a celebration in their honor. Mayor Mills cut the ribbon, still unsure how any of it had happened without her office knowing about it, but the paperwork was all in order and she was unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth. New orphanages were good for re-elections.

All of the children returned to their brand new beautiful home, save three, who seemed to be placed in the temporary custody of the same reclusive Sheriff’s Deputy ridiculously easily, no questions asked.

The little blue house with the tower, once so empty and lonely was suddenly filled with noise and life, with love and laughter and cuddles in the morning, scruff on her neck, and warm lips pressed against her hair. Emma Swan was almost as happy as she could ever be.

Almost.

Killian kept the little brown disc in his sock drawer, now filled with brand new socks. He looked at it every morning as he dressed, taking it out, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. Every morning she watched him, heart in her throat, apologetic kisses on his cheek, and every morning he closed the drawer, smiled at her, sometimes tugging her back into bed, and went about his day.

Until one day the little brown disc was missing, four mischievous pairs of eyes looking up at his inquiry at the breakfast table, eights pairs of hands in various sizes pushing and pulling him through the streets of town down to the harbor, one pair wrapped around his eyes.

A kiss pressed to his neck, a small hand tugged on his hook, and when the hands were taken away his ship greeted him, large as life, gleaming and new, bobbing in its brand new slip at the dock. No one in the town thought to wonder where it had come from. Mysteries were commonplace these days.

Everyday Emma placed the same pair of calls.

One to the social worker to update her on the status of the children. The other to a lawyer.

Everyday she smiled at her three charges, her heart aching as the voices on the other end told her the same thing.

Single. Unwed. Criminal record. Mysterious, foreign live-in boyfriend.

“It doesn’t look good Ms. Swan.”

“Three children of those ages is a lot of responsibility Ms. Swan.”

“I’ve never seen such a thing approved before Ms. Swan.”

She had them send the applications anyway.

As she signed her name, the ink still wet she sprinkled a tiny bit of fine red sand into the black scrawl, blowing to make it dry, smiling as she handed the thick packet to gossipy Happy at the post office.

It was the fastest adoption proceedings in the history of the state. Possibly the country, no one could be sure.

FIN

Notes: 

I had such a blast writing this fun little fairy tale. I wanted to both honor @phiralovesloki​ ‘s dream because I love and adore her and also play with a Bedknobs and Broomsticks esque story that didn’t copy the original but took the concept: Three orphaned children on an adventure with a reclusive wanna be witch and the charlatan that sold her magic and put an OUAT spin on it. If you haven’t watched the film I highly recommend it and you might see the nods to the story within.

Thanks to @scapeartist​ and @kat2609​ for the support that got me writing again.

All my love and thanks to Liz @caprelloidea​ who flailed and beta’d and made me feel like this was the greatest story in the world, and HUGE HEAPS OF LOVE to Phira. Like all I have to give. I hope you liked your present, you mean a lot to me and you’ve supported me since my very first little story in this fandom and it has always meant the world.

I finished a multi-chapter fic ya’ll! Now to finish the rest of them…

[noxtato]

So because I’m bored and because it’s the weekend and I’m officially a nolifer, I’m gonna try and scrape ao3 fics and dump them into a markov chain so that we can laugh at computers trying to write fics.

Gonna liveblog it too because this is somewhat amusing. Blacklist ‘i r sombruh’ if you don’t wanna see the liveblog bs for this. 

So what is a markov chain?

Well, it’s an algorithm that “generates” a word B from a word A, if and only if B followed A at least once during training. Moreover, B is picked from a list of candidates (read: words that have followed A during training) which is sorted by occurrence, and thus, by probability.

To get said words and to “train” the algorithm, you need a “training set”. In this case, my training set is @redcap3​‘s fic, Better Angels. Dad, I’m sorry for mangling your novel in advance. Now, Ao3 doesn’t give you an easy way to get the text because they don’t have an api. So, I’m going to ‘scrape’ the webpage to get the stuff I need. The good stuff.

Let’s get started.

I hit ctrl+u on the full fic to see what the source looks like.

AAH IT BURNS GET THE EXORCIST.

Okay, it’s not that bad. Lets scroll down a bit.

Luckily for me, ao3 is kind enough to tell me when each chapter starts by means of this comment:

So that’s one step! Now I open up my trusty text editor and start coding. In python, ofcourse.

Lets break this down a little.

Imports are basically libraries, that are neat little packages for stuff that you kindasortadon’t want to code yourself because someone else has already done it better than you. 

Hey, don’t need to reinvent the wheel, right?

bs4 is the main library we’re going to use to ‘scrape’ the page to get rid of all those pesky <p> <em> <div> etc tags. We don’t want none of that, just the good ol’ fic itself.

Now that the boring stuff is out of the way, lets get coding.

The first thing we’re gonna do is request the webpage from the website. Now, you could copy/paste the whole fic in. That is a very bad idea. That is the equivalent of going up to the mountain with a thermometer to check the temperature rather than calling the ski resort and asking them to give you the temperature. 

So we’re going to call the website and nicely ask for the page using the request keyword and store it in the page variable. Original, I know.

Once we get the page, we’re going to put it into a soup variable after formatting it. Beautifulsoup formats the raw text for us so that we’re easily able to search for tags. In this case, we’re gonna be searching for the <!--main content--> comment tag, since each chapter start is indicated by that tag.

Now that we have our text nice and formatted, we’re going to search through each element using the for loop. What this does is, it goes through each element in the text - so pretty much everything, really - and looks for the comment named “main content”. When we find the main content we get the rest of the stuff after that tag using findNextSibling - which honestly is still quite the mess.

So we clean it up a bit more, by using the .text parameter which strips all the tags away and leaves us with this:

Lookat dat, ain’t it pretty. 

Now, to code the markov chain itself...

[clairelutra]

a year in review ♥

meme stolen from @isadorator!!! (also she stored all of her fic there and i stg as soon as i can rest i’m diving in ITADAKIMASU ♥)

January

puppeteer chapter 6 (aka that threesome one)

river flows in you

ladrien --- marichat-style

secret valentine --- the introduction

of all the things to start the year with //faceinhands

i think this was the ‘this is really fun but oh my god so exhausting and I HAVE STANDARDS TO LIVE UP TO NOW HE L P’ stage right here, feat. me losing my computer to hardware failure and continuing to attempt writing anyway :’D

(my biggest memory of this time is that i was writing an akumized!marinette fic in a private mobile browser window with gmail, of all places, and accidentally x’d out of the tab and lost like 5 hours of work :’D //never recovered from that whoops ;;;)

February

secret valentine!!!!

aka the month of proving that:

green smoothies really work for brainfuel

i am actually capable of (at least short-term) consistency

ladrien is Some Good Shit

spite really is the best motivator :’D

basically, i started following the ladrien tag and at least once a week someone would come up with a new meta about why Marichat Is Better Than Ladrien (often featuring, Ladrien Is Unhealthy and/or Ladrien Would Crash And Burn Fast, And Here Is Why), and do you know

as a ladrien shipper

how infuriating that was

the last straw was someone insisting that you really just couldn’t slowburn ladrien

and like

bitch?

p l e a s e.

(i fooled you all by acting sweet; this is who i really am :’D)

(i am absolutely the kind of person who would write the longest fic i’ve ever completed simply to slowburn it because someone said that it couldn’t be done :’DDDDDDD)

(fuck you, person whom i can no longer remember. i showed you.

...with this fic that you will never care to read, because i wrote it about your notp long after you’d voiced your thoughts about said notp :’D)

(#hallielogic)

March

no room for jesus

fun with friends and.... that’s about it

(o hai there, impending existential crisis >.>;;;;

it was a month of panic attacks and essays that were probably a lot less shit than my english professor wanted to tell me and do you know how hard that was for someone as anxiety-ridden and a-type as i am

do you)

April

ladrien --- wrong number

ladrien --- swim

ladrien --- hug

fake married au

boku no hero acadamia au

aka, the month where i found out how spiritbreaking it is to:

start to consistently fail to please not one, but two people you admire greatly

one of whom is your teacher and in charge of your grades

whose job it is to judge your writing

which is your Thing

who doesn’t like you, but is too pleasant to let it on to your face

while you’re dealing with abruptly losing the sympathy and patience of the one person you go to for emotional support (explanation: my mom went on hormone treatment and it fucked with her mood b a d)

while dealing with watching both of your parents’ heath deteriorate fast

april was h e l l  o n  e a r t h

fake married au was an emotional crutch that sort of kept me back from the brink, honestly :’D (look! see! i’m not a waste of existence! people like this thing i made!! see!!!)

(orz)

major, major s/o to @peridipshit and giselle (no tumblr that i know of ;;; ) for counseling me through more than one lunch-table breakdown :’D;;;

(now excuse me while i go find a paper bag ;;; )

May

aka the month of ‘i am too mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted to do jack shit, someone please put me out of my misery’

also the month bang bang on tumblr hit 1k notes!

June

no room for the devil

hope we don’t get caught kiss

pillow fight!

pillow fight! the second

a time travel snippet

July

get lucky

a bunch of 3 sentence/short fic aus that i’m not gonna link bc #lazy

aka the ‘well i’m not in that hellish situation anymore so i should be able to just bounce right back, right?’ stage followed by the ‘okay okay that didn’t work; let’s start smaller‘ stage

i still plan to finish get lucky someday --- maybe we’ll see how alive i am after spring semester :’D

August

more short au fics

scary sabine au

unnamed ladynoir flirting

abo au

sidekick au piece

genderbent au

pictured: me, pumping my fists and going ‘okay, okay, okayokayokay i can do this’

September

somebody loves you

mlnsfweek (unfinished, dang it)

ladynoir --- reunion

everybody talks

getting better, getting better

everything’s still pretty disconnected and i still couldn’t bring myself to commit to anything that’d take longer than a day, but... improvement (9′-’)9

October

beauxbatons au

enemies phineas and ferb au

stop desire

more break-taking /o/

getting used to writing on my phone to fill the long hours of boredom that had taken my schedule by storm \o\

(also, unseen, i joined the remix challenge and loved and hated it :’D

also also started being almost kindasorta able to take concrit again (after the hell of march/april), and so started working with mirth again for the first time in months ;; ♥ \o/!!)

November

yuri on ice fics~~

soulmate au

make ‘em blush

exorcist au

self-indulgent marichat/ladynoir

yet another enemies au

mari-the-oblivious-lesbian genderbent au

genderbent crack smut

d a n . Adrien ur bobbie s

two important things happened at once in this month:

1) f i n a l l y got a medication that seemed to agree with me??? after literal years of testing???? everything is brighter now holy shit???????

2) rp!!! with!!!!!! mirth!!!!!!!! :DDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

which of the above is to thank for my astonishingly good mood??? i have literally no idea

aaaalso i got to remix bully’s fic in the remix challenge and that was great and fun as heck????? holy shit :D

lowkey dipped into another fandom there for a lil bit, but got too frustrated with the source material and dropped it ;;;

tl;dr: all in all, november was pretty great

December

marichat kissing lessons

do it 2 me

high-class callgirl au

cap-inspired crack

cru-inspired adrinette fluff-crack

moooore enemies au

shake up christmas

gods and godesses au

not pictured: like, almost 20k of rp goodness :D

medication and rp continue to do the trick, i start back in on things i haven’t touched in ages (’i want the k’ memes and get lucky, specifically), and the aus keep coming

signed up for waaaay too much towards the end there and spent like a week on too much stress and f a r too much caffeine, but actually feel well enough these days to start seeking help when i need it?? amazing

idk, mild caffeine od aside, the year ended on a high note

Total Year’s Output: ao3 tells me that it’s 93,383 words, but that not including a bunch of stuff i never bothered to upload there, and/or are still in wip form

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

mmmmh, a little less? i was pulling a steady 10k a month towards the end of 2k15, which is when i started writing for real, but understandable, considering the whole mid-year mental breakdown and subsequent recovery :’D

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January 2016?

aus of any sort! like actual legit ‘let’s fuck shit up’ aus :D i’ve always wanted to, but always thought my tastes ran just too weird to pull any off in any readable, enjoyable format? the exorcist au and the gods and goddesses au are pretty good examples of the aus i come up with when left to my own devices, except that those are on the tame end of ‘weird’ for me :’D

also i’ve relaxed my rigid stance on ‘love square o n l y’ and dipped my toes into poly ships and things like adrialya, which i probably never would’ve done before :’D

What’s your favourite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest.

HOT MESS

HOT MESS IS MY MOST-ADORED CHILD

i’m still not 100% sure why, except that it’s got all my favorite lines and all my happy excitement and, looking back at it, it’s not phenomenal, b u t

it’s just??? got so much that i l o v e tied up in it

most of my favorite lines and really good memories and a dynamic i love and just.

it makes me so happy to have written it >/////< ♥

in things that i still love upon rereading, secret valentine is pretty up there tbh. somehow in all my stress to get it out and get it out good i... actually managed to hit a pretty sweet dynamic? idk i reread scenes from it sometimes and i still like it ♥

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?

i wanna see where i can go, if anywhere, with get lucky. i wanna see if i can finish it. i wanna know where it goes, goddamnit.

i also want to beat this year’s wordcount, if i can.

and, if i’m well enough in november, maybe take a shot at nanowrimo? //fingers crossed ♥

i’m looking forward to it ♥