#little me was too little to contribute to the fandom years ago so she’s happy she’s here now

[knockknockwhosthereartistism]

AU where the Axolotl sends Bill to the mystery shack for rehabilitation after spending some time in the Theraprism

(OG AU is by waty_mot on Twitter)

[sofya-fanfics]

Their Secret Relationship

Fandom : Fairy Tail

Relationship : Gajeel x Levy, Nastu x Juvia

My Year of the OTP 2023 contribution for the prompt : secret relationship (reveal).

I’m sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language. I hope you like it.

Summary : Levy looked at Natsu and Juvia. That’s strange, she thought, how long had they been friends ? Of course, Juvia was close to everyone at the guild and Natsu would do anything for its members, who were family to him. However, Levy did not remember ever seeing them talk together, much less have lunch.

Disclaimer : Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima.

@yearoftheotpevent

AO3 / FF.NET

Levy looked at Natsu and Juvia. That’s strange, she thought, how long had they been friends ? Of course, Juvia was close to everyone at the guild and Natsu would do anything for its members, who were family to him. However, Levy did not remember ever seeing them talk together, much less have lunch.

It was noon and most of the Fairy Tail members were having lunch at the guild. Levy was waiting for Gajeel. Natsu, Juvia and Happy were a few tables away from hers. Therefore, she had the opportunity to watch them. Usually, Natsu and Happy would have lunch together or with other members of their team, especially Lucy. And if Juvia did not have lunch with her or Gajeel, she spent most of her time with Cana and Lisanna. Something is going on, Levy was sure of it.

“What are you looking at ?”

Levy jumped. She was so focused on watching Natsu and Juvia that she did not notice Gajeel and Panther Lily approaching. Gajeel was behind her. He leaned over her to look in the same direction as her. Panther Lily was on his shoulder.

“Do you know how long they’ve been friends ?” Levy asked.

“Natsu and Juvia ? They are not friends.”

Gajeell straightened up and sat across from her, preventing her to see the dragon slayer and water mage table. As for Panther Lily, he sat at the other end of the table.

“Happy told me they were hired for a mission a month or two ago,” the Exceed said. “They must have gotten closer at this point.”

Levy frowned. She felt there was something else.

******

A few days later, Levy and Juvia were in a children's clothing store. Levy was four months pregnant and Juvia wanted to take her shopping for her future child.

“It’s never too early to prepare,” Juvia had told her.

Levy had to admit that she was right and everything she saw in this store made her happy.

“Look what Juvia found.”

She showed her a little yellow onesie with a smiling sun sewn on the front.

“Juvia knows what she’s going to get you.”

“You do not have to.”

Juvia shook her head and smiled at her.

“That makes Juvia happy.”

She walked over to the cash register to pay for the onesie. Levy could not help smiling. As soon as she knew she was pregnant, Juvia proclaimed herself aunt of her future child.

“Gajeel was my only family for years,” she had told her. “So it’s normal that I’m there for you when you need it.”

Levy was lucky to have someone like Juvia in her life. She looked out the window and she saw Natsu and Happy walking on the street. Natsu carried his backpack, like when he went on a mission. Juvia approached, holding a bag containing the onesie.

“What's the matter ?” she asked.

“It looks like Natsu is going to leave the city.”

“He goes on a mission for two days.”

“How do you know ?”

“He told Juvia about it yesterday.”

Levy looked at her, surprised. She thought back to when she had seen them having lunch together a few days ago. Which meant they had seen each other again.

“You spend a lot of time together.”

Juvia looked away and Levy frowned.

“Not so much, Juvia ran into him by chance.”

“Lily told me you went on a mission together.”

Juvia nodded and walked towards a table where different items were placed.

“Look at these bootees. It’s so cute.”

Levy knew she was trying to change the conversation. There was something going on between Juvia and Natsu, she was sure of it. But she would not say anything. If Juvia did not want to talk about it, Levy would not press her.

******

“I'm sure they're in a relationship,” Levy said, giving a screwdriver to Gajeel.

“Who ?” He answered, taking the screwdriver.

They were in the bedroom they were converting for their child and Gajeel was putting the crib together.

“Juvia and Natsu.”

“What are you talking about ?”

“Haven't you seen how they behave, the way they look at each other ? And I often saw them together.”

“You imagine things. Juvia never paid attention to Natsu.”

“Things change. Especially after what happened with Gray.”

Gajeel groaned. Everyone in the guild knew about Juvia's feelings for Gray. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same. Juvia had overheard a conversation between Gray and Erza, where he told her that he was not in love with Juvia and that he would never be. When he realized that she had heard him, he apologized, telling her that he did not want her to find out like that. Juvia had not blamed him, but she had been heartbroken. Gajeel, on the other hand, still had not forgiven Gray for hurting Juvia.

As for Natsu, Levy suspected that he was in love with Lucy. But she never realized it and when she was in a relationship, Levy saw sadness in Natsu's eyes.

“I think she might be happy with Ntsu.”

“With that idiot ? He's even dumber than Gray.”

Levy lightly hit his arm. Yet, she could not get the idea out of her head. And if they really were a couple, she would be happy for her two friends.

******

Three months had passed. The first snowflakes of winter had replaced the red leaves of autumn. Levy was seven months pregnant with twins. She still had a hard time believing it. It was both wonderful and frightening. But she knew everything was going to be okay with Gajeel by her side.

Night had fallen. They were coming home. In the distance, Levy saw Juvia and Natsu. They were smiling at each other and they were close, very close. So close that Levy thought for a moment they were going to kiss. She suddenly stopped walking.

“Is Everything all right ?” Gajeel asked, worried.

Levy nodded and pointed at Juvia and Natsu who had moved away from each other.

“Look.”

Gajeel stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

“You’re at it again.”

Levit pouted. Gajeel did not believe her when she told him that Natsu and Juvia were a couple. Each time, he told her that she had too much imagination. And Levy had no proof for what she was saying. Just her instinct.

Without thinking about what she was doing, she approached Natsu and Juvia. She heard Gajeel calling her, but she did not stop. Her friends did not see her arriving and they kissed.

“I knew it !” Levy cried out.

Natsu and Juvia jumped and moved away from each other.

“I can’t believe it, you were right,” Gajeel said, opening his eyes wide.

The dragon slayer and the water mage blushed and exchanged a look.

“Why didn’t you tell me ?” Gajeel asked Juvia.

She looked at Gajeel guiltily.

“Juvia’s sorry. She wanted to tell you, but...”

She looked at Natsu, as if she was searching for help and comfort. Levy could see how bad she felt for lying to them. Especially to Gajeel.

“We wanted to keep our story to ourselves. Without anyone getting involved or judging us.”

“And after what happened with Gray-san, Juvia was worried about what you would think. Do you forgive us ?”

Gajeel sighed.

“Are you happy ?”

“Juvia is very happy.”

“So that's all that matters. Even if it's with this idiot.”

“Hey !” Natsu cried out.

He glared at him, annoyed. Levy laughed lightly at his reaction. She approached Juvia and took her in her arms.

“I'm happy for you.”

Juvia smiled and put her arms around Levy. Even if Natsu and Juvia were different, she knew they would be happy together. And no matter how anyone would react when they would learn of their relationship, she would be there to support them.

The end

[i-write-hurt-not-comfort]

To all the DL fanfish readers, I get you, all of us gathered here want new chapters, new attention-grabbing stories, or even in general some new content or some other DL-themed post. Unfortunately, however, this fandom, like it or not, is dying a little less, fighting for survival absolutely every day. So we should be truly grateful to people, blogs and writers for continuing to "fight" and keep the fandom alive to this day. Thanks to them, to the fact that they give part of their free time, even part of their life, to make us happy is a real gift in itself.

So please respect those who do all this for us and give them as much time as they need, don't push and be patient and most of all grateful for everything so far. Yes, I want new chapters too, I check almost every week for an update, if there is any sign that one is coming soon, yes, I'm dying but I'll keep waiting, no matter how hard it is. The writer has his own life , is currently in its heyday, but despite this, it is not giving up on us. She has been writing for DL ​​for years now, it's normal for the attraction to wane and go at some point. And recently she even admitted to us that there is already another series that has occupied a place in her mind, but despite that she still writes about DL, yes things are happening at a slow pace, but I know that the story will have an end for sure. Think about it, the more you insist, the more you pressure her and force her to write just to please us, which in turn will lead to significantly shorter chapters with a more rushed plot, which will reduce the quality of the story , and the most interesting part is just beginning. If a writer writes because he is driven by force, without passion or emotion, this will result in significantly worse material. Remember patience pays off sweetest!

P.S. I apologize for all the nonsense I just scribbled. If you consider this to be rude or unnecessary you are free NOT to post it. I just wanted to support you, just you reading this is enough for me.

good afternoon anon, i'm going to assume this ask was prompted by this post. don't worry, you aren't rude to me or anything!

when i received the original ask, i was trying not to say anything cuz i'm sure it had good intentions, but uh, yeah, i was kinda thinking something along the same lines. i know there's people really into that fic and it's been almost 3 months since i updated the basketball diaries, but there's a reason for that.

like you said, firstly, if i'm forcing myself to write for something i'm not insanely hyperfixated on, it's not gonna be as good. i'll always deeply love diabolik lovers and i 100% intend to finish the basketball diaries. but i did notice a pattern where the series i write insanely for seems to go in 2 year cycles. of course a part of me is sad i'm not writing as much for DL considering i earned myself a following, but i had the same for pandora hearts and then vanitas no carte when i started writing more for DL in 2022. and i'll always love the series deeply and keep my friends i made through it.

on top of that, part of the reason i put the basketball diaries on hiatus was because i was writing for the fengqing gotcha for gaza, which is a charity event. people donated to the people of palestine who needed humanitarian support and submitted prompts, and i ended up writing a total of 17 fics in 2 months, a total of 70,978 words. so naturally i prioritised that, and i'm genuinely proud of my contribution to that.

so yeah, i did leave the basketball diaries on hiatus, but it was for a good cause, yknow? hence people asking when i'm going to update it, and i got multiple comments on the fic asking me this as well, it left a bit of a bad taste. repeatedly being asked when i'm going to update it without saying anything else makes me not wanna update it, because it makes me feel like my readers are forgetting that i'm a person too and that i have other obligations.

i started my full time job 2 weeks ago too, so i've got at MOST 2 hours of spare time during the week, but i posted my final fengqing gotcha fic today, so yes, i am going to start the basketball diaries chapter 12 next.

having said that, i generally write 2 long fics at the same time to keep myself occupied, so i'm Begging people not to ask me to update it between chapters. of course i'm grateful for my readers and i know what it's like to desperately want a fic to update, but sometimes it's best to hold back and be patient for the writer's sake as well.

so thank you for your ask, you said everything i'd wanted to say but didn't know how asksjfkdf.

[blorbologist]

Do you think it was in character for Percy to give/make a gun for Mister? Even if Matt said he’d made toy ones for his kids, when you consider Taliesin saying he was content to never make a weapon again, what do you think? I mean unless, Matt talked it over with Taliesin, then… *shrug* I guess that works out.

Hi anon!

So, first of all - I have a lot of faith and trust in Matt to want his friends to be happy. They wanted to go go Whitestone to see their past PCs and the new de Rolos, so he went along with that. He's a good DM and facilitates telling the stories they want - and part of that would include having a good grasp on the characters.

He also likely had a good idea of a few things that might come up. I mean, we as a fandom certainly did: potentially seeing the quarter elves (Gwen included) and their ages, Percy and Vex's reactions to Delilah and Laudna, how Percy might be curious about an aeormaton... and, yeah, the gun angle was pretty obvious too!

I'm certain he either checked in with them on character sticking points, reread his notes for the Tal’Dorei Reborn campaign guide (I doubt what we got in the book is ALL he was given for the PCs) or reviewed important episodes (I noticed a lot of his behavior was similar to Percy's interactions with Syldor, his reaction to 'the Meatman'/Scanlan trying to get a gun from him, how he broke the news to Cass that Delilah was at a ziggurat). Probably some combination of all three!

And the difficulty lies in the fact these characters are *complicated* (said in the tone of Percy in the Search for Grog)! They don't have many hard, fast lines because they're all human (well, mortal) and their responses change with context. It's been thirty plus years - guns are everywhere, and ones so terrible he likely stays up at night fearing what they can do. A little toy gun - not even something he'd personally use, no improvement on existing designs - hardly means much at all in this modern Exandria. If Fearne had opened asking for a gun? Fuck no, goodbye, get out. If she had tried to steal one and Vex 'passive perception better than a dragon' 'ahlia saw? Likewise, big trouble. But Fearne just contributed to dealing another solid blow to Delilah. She proved she abd her friends could be trusted and were here out of genuine love for their friend. His kids are safe, his wife is safe, there’s a dead rat named after him. Sure, why not, tweaking a child's toy he made some time ago sounds reasonable right about now.

(Because he's not making a new gun from scratch - he's tweaking a pop gun intended for the use of his children. I'm sure Percy had enough sense to design them in ways to minimize the 'MOTHER, FATHER, WOLFE SHOT ME IN THE EYYYYEEE' 'FATHER HE SHOT ME IN THE BUTT ALL DAY IT WAS AN ACCIDENT BUT HE DESERVES IT' *general wailing from the younger two that the game dissolved into chaos*)

And, see, the thing is: Matt hasn't been afraid to say 'no, you're not getting this, it would be out of character' before! Travis (playing a Charisma caster and the Nein's face!) rolled a natural twenty to ask for Holy Avenger from Kima. On a meta level it would have been fitting and fun for him to have the sword, especially given Grog gave it to her in C1.

Kima scoffs at him! And gives the sword to Yasha instead, because lesbian wavelengths or something and it was *incredible*. Point being - if he/Tal thought it would be absolutely against Percy's wishes, he would have made that 21 a 'no, but he can do this for you instead'.

Also, Percy has a powerful 'little shit' instinct. He made a sodium teakettle bomb just to win a contest, and "if they have something nice that makes you feel inferior, we can just take it", and gave Grog a sword he knew was cursed. Though guns are a touchier subject, he's made these pop guns for his kids, added some to Doty and trained the Riflemen on how to make more and their ammo.

Frankly, I think the idea was too facinating and chaotic to pass up.

(And flaming monkey shit is likely far, far less dangerous than a bullet.)

[wolfstar-in-color]

July Colorful Column: Remus is a Crip, and We Can Write Him Better.

There is one thing that can get me to close a fic so voraciously I don’t even make sure I’m not closing other essential tabs in the process. It doesn’t matter how much I’m loving the fic, how well written I think it is, or how desperately I want to know how it ends. Once I read this sentence, I am done.

It’s written in a variety of different ways, but it always goes something like this: “You don’t want me,” Remus said, “I am too sick/broken/poor/old/[insert chosen self-demeaning adjective here].”

You’re familiar with the trope. The trope is canonical. And if you’ve been around the wolfstar fandom for longer than a few minutes, you’ve read the trope. Maybe you love the trope! Maybe you’ve written the trope! Maybe you’re about to stop reading this column, because the trope rings true to you and you feel a little attacked!

Now, let’s get one thing out of the way right now: I am not saying the trope is wrong. I am not saying it’s bad. I am not saying we should stop writing it. We all have things we don’t like to see in our chosen fics. Maybe you can’t stand Leather Jacket Motorbike Sirius? Maybe you think Elbow Patch Remus is overdone? Or maybe your pet peeves are based in something a little deeper - maybe you think Poor Latino Remus is an irresponsible depiction, or that PWPs are too reductive? Whatever it is, we all have our things.

Let me tell you about my thing. When I first became very ill several years ago, there were various low points in which I felt I had become inherently unlovable. This is, more or less, a normal reaction. When your body stops doing things it used to be able to do - or starts doing things you were quite alright without, thank you very much - it changes the way you relate to your body. You don’t want to hear my whole disability history, so yada yada yada, most people eventually come to accept their limitations. It’s a very painful existence, one in which you constantly tell yourself your disability has transformed you into a burdensome, unworthy member of society, and if nothing else, it’s not terribly sustainable. Being disabled takes grit! It takes power! It takes a truly absurd amount of medical self-advocacy! Hating yourself? Thinking yourself unworthy of love? No one has time for that. 

Of course, I’m being hyperbolic. Plenty of disabled people struggle with these feelings many years into their disabilities, and never really get over them. But here’s the thing. We experience those stories ALL THE TIME. Remember Rain Man? Or Million Dollar Baby? Or that one with the actress from Game of Thrones and that British actor who seemed like he was going to have a promising career but then didn't? Those are all stories about sad, bitter disabled people and their sad, bitter lives, two out of three of which end in the character completing suicide because they simply couldn’t imagine having to live as a disabled person. (I mean, come on media, I get that we're less likely to enjoy a leisurely Saturday hike, but our parking is SUBLIME.) When was the last time you engaged with media that depicted a happy disabled person? A complex disabled person? A disabled person who has sex? No really, these aren’t hypothetical questions, can you please drop a rec in the notes?? Because I am desperate.

There are lots of problems with this trope, and they’ve been discussed ad nauseam by people with PhDs. I’m not actually interested in talking about how this trope leads to a more prevalent societal idea that disabled people are unworthy of love, or contributes to the kind of political thought processes that keep disabled people purposefully disenfranchised. I’m just a bitch on Tumblr, and I have a bone to pick: the thing I really hate about the trope? It’s boring. I’m bored. You know how, like, halfway through Grey’s Anatomy you realized they were just recycling the same plot points over and over again and there was just no WAY anyone working at a hospital prone to THAT MANY disasters would stay on staff? It's like that. I love a recycled trope as much as the next person (There Was Only One Bed, anyone?). But I need. Something. Else.

Remus is disabled. BOLD claim. WILD speculation. Except, not really. You simply - no matter how you flip it, slice it, puree it, or deconstruct it - cannot tell me Remus Lupin is not disabled. Most of us, by this point, are probably familiar with the way that One Canonical Author intended One Dashing Werewolf to be “a metaphor for those illnesses that carry stigma, like HIV and AIDS” [I’m sorry to link you to an outside source quoting She Who Must Not Be Named, but we’re professionals here]. Which is... a thing. It’s been discussed. And, listen, there’s no denying that this parallel is a problematic interpretation of people who have HIV/AIDS and all such similar “those illnesses” (though I’ll admit that I, too, am perennially apt to turn into a raging beast liable to harm anything that crosses my path, but that’s more linked to the at-least-once-monthly recollection that One Day At A Time got cancelled). Critiques aside, Remus Lupin is a character who - due to a condition that affects him physically, mentally, emotionally, and intellectually - is repeatedly marginalized, oppressed, denied political and social power, and ostracized due to unfounded fear that he is infectious to others. Does that sound familiar?

We’re not going to argue about whether or not “Remus is canonically disabled as fuck” is a fair reading. And the reason we’re not going to argue about whether or not it’s a fair reading is because I haven’t read canon in 10-plus years and you will win the argument. Canon is only marginally relevant here. The icon of this blog is brown, curly haired Remus Lupin kissing his trans boyfriend, Sirius Black. We are obviously not too terribly invested in canon. The wolfstar fandom is now a community with over 25,000 AO3 fics, entire careers launched from drawing or writing or cosplaying this non-canonical pairing. We love to play around here with storylines and universes and races and genders and sexualities and all kinds of things, but most of the time? Remus is still disabled. He’s disabled as a werewolf in canon-compliant works, he’s disabled in the AUs where he was injured or abused or kidnapped or harmed as a child, he’s disabled in the stories that read him as chronically ill or bipolar or traumatized or blind or Deaf. I’d go so far as to say that he is one of very few characters in the Wide Wonderful World of media who is, in as close to his essence as one can be, always disabled. And that means? Don’t shoot the messenger... but we could stand to be a tiny bit more responsible with how we portray him. 

Disabled people are complicated. As much as I’d like to pretend we are always level-headed, confident, and ready to assert our inherent worth, we are still just humans. We have bad days. We doubt our worth. We sometimes go out with guys who complain about our steroid-induced weight gain (it was a long time ago, Tumblr, okay??). But, we also have joy and fun and good days and sex and happiness and families and so many other things. 

Remus is a disabled character, and as such, it’s only fair that he’d have those unworthy moments. But - I propose - Remus is also a crip. What is a crip? A crip - like a queer - is someone who eschews the limited boundaries placed on their bodies, who rejects a hierarchy of oppression in favor of an intersectional analysis of lived experience, who isn’t interested in being the tragic figure responsible for helping people with dominant identities realize how good they have it. Crips interpret their disabilities however they want, rethinking bodies and medicine and pleasure and pain and even time itself. Crips are political, community-minded, and in search of liberation. 

Remus is a character who struggles with his disability, sure. But he’s also a character who leverages his physical condition to attempt to shift communities towards his political leanings, advocates for the rights of those who share his physical condition, and has super hot sex with his wrongfully convicted boyfriend ultimately goes on to build community and family. Having a condition that quite literally cripples you, over which you have no control, and through which you are often read as a social pariah? That’s disability. But using said condition as a means through which to build advocacy and community? Now that’s some crip shit. 

Personally, I love disabled!Remus Lupin. But I love crip!Remus Lupin even more. I’d love to see more of a Remus who owns his disability, who covets what makes him unique, and who never ever again tells a potential romantic partner they are too good for him because of his disability. This trope - unlike There Was Only One Bed! - sometimes actually hurts to read. Where’s Remus who thinks a potential romantic partner isn’t good enough for him? Where’s Remus who insists his partners learn more about his condition in order to treat him properly? Where’s sexy wheelchair user Remus? Where’s Remus who uses his werewolf transformations as an excuse to travel the world? Where’s crip Remus??

We don’t have to put “you don’t want me” Remus entirely to bed. It is but one of many repeated tropes that are - in the words of The Hot Priest from Fleabag - morally a bit dubious. And let’s face it - we don’t always come to fandom for its moral superiority (as much as we sometimes like to think we do). 

This is not a condemnation - it is an invitation. Able-bodied folks are all but an injury, illness, or couple decades away from being disabled. And when you get here, I sincerely hope you don’t waste your time on “you don’t want me”ing back and forth with the people you love. I’m inviting you to come to the crip side now. We have snacks, and without all the “you don’t want me” talk, we get to the juicy parts much faster. 

Colorfully,

Mod Theo

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Some references to explicitness towards the end

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 16/16 (all chapters)

You were proud of your home.

You had painted the walls yourself, built cupboards and shelves and painted those too. You’d crocheted your own throw blanket and stuffed every single cushion you owned.

You had made room in one corner for a moses basket and built a wine rack for when you had adult guests over.

It was warm and cosy and you often found yourself dozing off on the couch.

Today, in fact, was such an occasion. You opened your eyes to soft light, snuggled up in the same position as when you returned from work. You had taken off your coat and shoes and set aside your purse, meaning to take a couple of minutes before getting up to make dinner.

Clearly, that had not gone according to plan. You sat up with a wince and rubbed the spots of your back that had grown stiff. How long had you been asleep?

You moved to get up from the chair but that was easier said than done. You were, after all, extremely pregnant and even if your center of gravity wasn’t completely displaced, navigating your swollen belly was getting increasingly difficult.

This was your last week at work before you left for maternity leave and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t glad. Your nesting instincts had hit you hard within the past month or so and you’d reshuffled the furniture more times than you could count.

Nezu had been more than accommodating when he brought staff members into the dorms on site. Your dormitories were more like apartment complexes than the shared halls the students lived in. Your apartment was built to very specific requirements, namely that it was sound proofed and made from two apartments merged into one larger one, with doors connecting them together. There was enough room for Hizashi to do his radio show, for a home office, a bedroom for Eri and, more recently, a nursery.

Eri had a room to the left of yours, specifically chosen for easy access when she had nightmares and needed reassurance. You chose the room on the right of yours for the baby. Eri had offered to share her room, though you got the feeling she didn’t understand much about babies in general, let alone night time feeds and diaper changes.

You could hear three sets of voices coming from the nursery and you waddled towards it, clasping one hand over your belly and the other on your hip for balance.

Hizashi, Shouta and Eri were in the middle of building a crib, Hizashi leaning over the half finished frame, Shouta holding out tools and Eri sitting cross legged in the nursing chair, squinting at an upside down set of instructions.

“Are you sure that’s the right screw?”

“Positive.”

“It’s just that...I need five of them. How many do you have there?”

“One.”

Hizashi was a lot better at DIY projects than Shouta, thanks in part to how much of his time he spent building sound rigs and fixing his equipment. You could have lingered in the doorway forever, just watching them, though your back and ankles were already beginning to protest.

“Having fun?”

Eri gasped in happiness at the sight of you standing there, launching herself out of the nursing chair and reaching for your hand.

“We’re building the baby’s bed,” she said, hopping on the spot as you lowered yourself into the chair. “They’re following my instructions!”

“So I see,” you said. “Looks like you’re being very helpful!”

“We couldn’t do it without ya, Eri,” said Hizashi, before turning back to Shouta. “How many do you have now?”

“ One .”

“That can’t be right.”

Hizashi sat up and shuffled across to Shouta, counting out the screws and other materials.

“One,” he said, turning the screw over in his hand. “Why would they only give us one ?"

“Probably so we’d have to go back and spend more money,” said Shouta.

You sat back in your chair and rubbed your hand over your belly, glancing round at the near complete nursery. Everyone had contributed something; all four of you (and several others) had made your mark on this room.

Hizashi had assembled just about everything, from the changing station to the bookcase to the nursing chair you were currently sitting in. The very same day you told him you were pregnant, he came home with an armful of toys, almost all of which were sound related and certainly far too advanced for a newborn, though he refused to hear it. He’d also bought a music player and specialised headphones so that he could play music or voice recordings through your belly. It had become his favourite thing to do ever since your bump got noticeable, mostly because it almost never failed to make the baby kick.

Eri (under supervision, of course) had painted rainbows, clouds and kitties on the walls, as well as a picture of her and the baby enjoying a basket of apples. She didn’t know much about babies, much less what this one would look like, so her painting looked a little like a potato. She’d been something of a bad influence on Shouta, too, who couldn’t refuse her at the best of times, much less when she was pointing out cute onesies.

Shouta supplied almost all of the stuffed animals in the room, as well as the mobile you planned to hang above the cot. You hadn’t realised just how many baby toys, clothes and equipment were cat themed until Shouta bought almost all of them.

Nemuri’s gift lurked in the corner; an enormous teddy bear with glass eyes and a tartan scarf. It was almost as tall as you were and possibly the most hideous thing you had ever seen, but she and Hizashi had both smiled so widely when she brought it over that you had had little choice but to put it next to the bookshelf.

Your colleagues at UA (with the exception of Shouta and Hizashi for obvious reasons) had gifted you a storybook, with buttons at the side. They had recorded themselves speaking the lines and sometimes, when you wanted a giggle, you pulled it off the shelf and pressed the buttons yourself.

You had overseen everything without picking up quite as many individual items, though in your defense you were contributing the baby.

“That reminds me,” you said aloud without meaning to, “just a second…”

You had done something a little special, something you had been working on for weeks and couldn’t wait to hand over.

You climbed up out of the chair and waddled into the bedroom, coming back with a box you’d gone so far as to wrap with a ribbon.

“What is it, doll?”

“I got the test results back a few weeks ago,” you said with a grin, holding the box out towards them. “I was wondering how to tell you...so I made this.”

Due to your somewhat unique circumstances, you had gone through much of your pregnancy without knowing the identity of the father. You knew it was either Shouta or Hizashi, but couldn’t put that on the birth certificate.

You’d sent samples of your blood and Hizashi and Shouta’s saliva to be tested, though as far as they knew, that was where the story ended.

Both of them eyed the box in your arms, knowing that whatever was inside it would change the course of your futures. One of them was about to become a father, biologically speaking.

Eri didn’t fully understand the situation, but she did understand the concept of presents.

“Can I see?” she cried out.

“Sure, sweetie, why don’t you open it?”

You handed the box to Eri and sat back down in your nursing chair, watching in anticipation as she unfastened the ribbon and lifted the lid.

Maybe it was the hormones, but you’d been thinking about Ego a lot lately. You remembered glasses shattering against the floor, remembered your heart shattering into just as many pieces.

“It’s a onesie,” Eri cried out, dragging the black fabric out of the box.

“Sure is, honeybun,” said Hizashi. “What else is in there?”

It had been years since that night at the bar that changed everything and up until then you hadn’t been the biggest believer in destiny.

“Look,” said Eri, dragging out a small, grey strip of fabric, “it’s a scarf! Oooh, and there’s goggles!”

“That’s right! It’s a hero costume.”

You remembered how long you had shivered inside of a toilet stall, scrubbing away a stranger’s cum. You’d panicked, the reality of what you had done sinking in. You had never been so happy as when you got your next period; you didn’t even complain about the breakout and hellish cramps that came along with it.

You planted a hand on your belly, unable to stroke your son’s hair and so settling for his general vicinity.

Needless to say, you were a believer now.

[omegas-spaghettios]

An open letter to Kylo Ren and Bo-Katan fans, from a Crosshair fan

Very light TW, mentions that I was at one point depressed and anxious, no more detail past that but I did want to give a fair warning.

I want to start off by saying that I'm not happy I had to learn this lesson from experience and am pretty embarrassed about some of what I have said to y'all, but I want to admit that is how it went just to be authentic, you know?

Being a fan of Crosshair has been hard on this site. Now it isn't a "real problem" so don't come at me with that, but it still really sucks to want to go talk about a character you love and get hit with waves of negativity. Especially after the release of S1E15 of TBB, I have been called a Nazi so many times and it's so frustrating. Crosshair is a villainous figure. He has done awful things. I don't agree with him. But i see the best in him and hope he can achieve it. Now undoubtedly some fans of him have been awful, saying that he is 100% right in EVERYTHING and that he truly is superior. It's been so frustrating to see that minority of our little corner of our community get spotlighted and blown up to represent us all.

I have historically not been kind to you guys. Kylo not as much but especially Bo fans, you can go back to posts the day of Mando Season 2 finale and probably find me saying some really rude stuff about Bo, going through the tag and just going off on any positive post about her and being so rude to her fans. And then with Kylo fans I did judge you all for the longest time, doing what I have hated being done to me, seeing the worst of you guys and assigning it to everyone.

Bo, Kylo, and Cross have all done some undeniably awful things, but a lot of Cross fans acknowledge that and still hold him accountable in our heads, we agree that he needed to be stunned and that his rhetoric is harmful. And I'm sure many of you fans acknowledge that Bo indeed helped the organization that killed her sister and was out of line with Kenobi, that Kylo did indeed kill 6 planets, like we all know these things but I try to see the good and believe in Cross, and I never extended that to you guys.

A few months ago I was really down and realized that part of it was how negative I am. Now, this doesn't work for everyone with depression or anxiety, I just was feeling desperate because nothing was working, so i tried to just be positive about something. Again, this doesn't work for everyone and everyone's path is different, if someone tells you you HAVE to do one specific thing to get better than they're dumb. Anyway, I looked for something I hated in my life that I can try and change with little consequence, and I ended up on Bo. I watched all of her episodes in TCW, Rebels, and Mando with the explicit goal of trying to love her. Now I never did get to love her, but I think she's really cool and is a flawed character just like every prequel era character and that she is a definite positive in Star Wars.

So after a reblog I got on a post from @sleepyowlet bemoaning the hate for Crosshair fans that said Kylo fans got this too, it clicked for me. This isn't just a Crosshair fan thing, fandom arbitrarily picks villains who you are "allowed" to like and absolutely just harass you if you don't pick the "right" ones. It's so frustrating seeing Anakin, Maul, Thrawn, and Kallus getting love on this site for YEARS then loving my character gets me attacked, and that's probably how all of you have felt and I am so, so sorry that I contributed to that.

This has sucked but this is just my way to try and make someone a bit happier from all of this. So Kylo and Bo fans? You guys are awesome

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - An Older Dramione Story, Part Two

Since folks seemed to like the first part (thank you so much for letting me know, by the way! It’s genuinely quite scary flinging stories into the dusky blue void of Tumblr, especially if you’re relatively new to contributing to a fandom...!!), here’s Part Two.

Premise:

Draco, eight months after becoming a widower, nearly loses his son too in a vicious attack at Malfoy Manor. In the aftermath, while he’s being questioned by the aurors, there’s no one to look after little Scorpius, who just won’t stop howling. In desperation, and remembering how good Hermione had been with his kids, Harry brings the baby up to her office. In the end, the only thing that will calm the child is the soft hum of Hermione’s voice as she sings to him. Of course, that would be how Draco Malfoy finds her, wouldn’t t it? And then, eleven years later, Hermione meets him again and ends up asking him to lunch at the Leaky…

(Warnings in Part One (and in any future chapters) for past Ron/Hermione, and implied infertility. No explicit Ron-bashing, but it’s implied that their relationship couldn’t take the strain and he looked elsewhere. I may develop it later, but it won’t be a Ron-bashing fic. They’re just ultimately incompatible in this universe).

Read Part One here

Part Two - Lunch for Two at the Leaky

___

Hermione, being Hermione, arrived at the Leaky Cauldron just over half an hour before she was due to meet Malfoy there. After getting a large glass of dry white wine from the bar and settling into a table with a view of the doorway, she took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then delved into her infinite handbag of holding to draw out a book.  

Twenty nine minutes later, a soft snort made her jump, and she looked up, blinking, to find Draco Malfoy towering over her table, a tiny smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Some things never change, do they Granger?” he said. He was still in that beautiful navy blue suit that fitted him so damned perfectly he could have strolled straight out of the glossy adverts in Witch Weekly, and it made her mouth go unexpectedly dry, and her brain rather blank too.  

Her cheeks flushed and she opened her mouth, but promptly realised she had nothing to say in rebuttal, so closed it again with a click of her teeth and shrugged. “I guess not.”

“You want another one?” he asked.  

“Another book?” she blurted, frowning.  

To her surprise, Malfoy barked a short laugh, silver eyes glinting. “No, Granger,” he said with an odd intonation. “Drink.”

She glanced down at her nearly-empty glass, and pursed her lips. Raising one eyebrow, she turned her face to look at him slightly askance and smirked. “Just what kind of degenerate do you take me for?” she parroted back at him.  

“Of course. The ex-Minister for Magic can’t be seen drinking herself into a stupor at midday with a former Death Eater now, can she?” he sneered, the humour vanishing. “I’ll be right back.”

Blowing the rising tension from her lungs, she hoped this wasn’t going to be a huge mistake and closed her eyes a moment, then returned her book to her bottomless handbag. With nothing to do until Malfoy returned — if he even returned, of course; he could have just bolted for the back door and disapparated — she cursed and fussed with her cuticles until the crisp click of dragonhide leather Oxfords rose above the low lunchtime murmur in the pub.  

“That was ungracious of me,” he said as he sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven,” she said quickly. “I’m a touch nervous too.”

Malfoy went still at that, but instead of unleashing another snippy comment at her expense, he just twitched his lips and nodded slightly in acknowledgement. “To the most unusual of days,” he said, raising his own glass of white. 

She clinked the remnants of hers against his, and added, “And to new beginnings, I think.” She looked at her watch and smiled. “They’ll be just south of Birmingham by now, I suspect.”

“Who will?” he asked after sipping his wine. She half expected him to make some kind of remark about its inferior vintage, but he seemed happy enough with it.  

“The Express,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten dear Scorpius already?” she teased.  

He shook his head. “No. But you’re as hard to keep up with as you ever were, Granger.”

“I don’t recall you ranking too many places behind me, Malfoy. And you beat me in Potions every year bar one, though I rather suspect Snape had a hand in keeping my marks down there…”

He shrugged noncommittally.  

“Which house do you think Scorpius will find his way into?” she asked. “Slytherin like his father?”

“Probably,” Malfoy said ruefully. “He can be a cunning little shit when he wants to be.”

She had to smile at that. “Tell me about him?”

Malfoy sighed and took another sip of wine. “He’s smart,” he began, somewhat hesitantly, as if he thought he might bore Hermione if he said too much about his son.  

“No surprises there,” she scoffed playfully. “Is he a future seeker too, or do the similarities end with the brains?”

A very slight flush blossomed on Malfoy’s ice-white cheeks. “I didn’t know you even remembered I played quidditch, Granger.”

Her eyebrows rose and she tried not to snort wine out of her nostrils. Malfoy had looked devastating in his quidditch kit as he’d grown into it, not that she’d ever admitted that to anyone. He’d been a right arse too back at school, no matter how beautiful his own had looked in his flying gear, so her admiration then had been purely aesthetic. “Yes, Malfoy,” she sighed. “I do remember that. I also remember the Slytherin team being quite the thorn in our side for most of our time there…”

He hitched a lopsided smirk and took a sip of wine.  

The way he held the glass in long, steady fingers made her core heat slightly and she had to look away. The reaction took her off-guard. It had been years since she’d felt even the slightest flicker of sexual attraction for anyone.  

“Are you admitting that we were actually good, Granger?”

Hermione rolled her brown eyes and shook her head, causing a cascade of curls to tumble into her face like an avalanche set off by the merest touch. Shoving it all back out of her eyes, she said, “Much as I’d like to say it was only daddy’s money and a set of fancy brooms that gave you an edge, it wasn’t. Flint was still a dirty rotten cheater, but half of you were pretty darned good. And it doesn’t even take a quidditch player to see that. So how old was Scorpius when you had him on a broom of his own?”

A cloudy look passed over his eyes and he blinked slowly. “Four.”

“Four!”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Granger. I didn’t plonk him on a broom, slap the bristles, and send it racing off into the middle of Wiltshire with my son and heir alone. He rode in my lap with me until he was seven or so, and even then, I enchanted his broom not to go above five feet. He was furious about that,” he chuckled. “Naturally, he tried everything he could think of to undo the enchantment, but in the end he resorted to getting one of the house elves to undo it. She was devastated when she realised quite what she’d done and came to me immediately.”

Hermione’s lip curled involuntarily at the mention of house elves. “So long as you didn’t make her iron her own hands in punishment,” she said before she could stop herself.  

Malfoy blinked, blanching and obviously taken aback. “No, Granger,” he breathed, and after a long pause he added, “I am not my father.”

The words rang in the air between them and something unpleasantly akin to shame coiled in her belly, soured by the wine on an empty stomach. “Now it’s my turn to apologise for being ungracious,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not your father. I’ve known that for a very long time.”

Before Malfoy could open his mouth to reply, Old Tom shuffled over and stuck some menus under their noses. “You said you was stayin’ for lunch, ma’am, but neither of you’s collected a menu,” he said before disappearing.  

“Ma’am,” she repeated in a stage whisper to Malfoy. “I never got used to that at the Ministry. Makes me sound like some old frump.” A tiny, bitter snort escaped her and she added, “Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Granger, please,” Malfoy drawled. “You are anything but an ‘old frump’.”

Drawn up short by the unexpectedly open compliment, she looked at him, lips softly parted.  

“What?” he asked, looking like he thought she might hex his balls off if he moved so much as a muscle. “Surely Weasley must have told you the same thing once or twice? I know the man is about as artless as a grindylow, but…”

The sudden mention of Ron’s name nearly gave her emotional whiplash, and she huffed a tiny laugh. “We’re not together anymore. Surely you heard?”

“I hadn’t,” he said, voice flat. “I’m sorry.”

“You must be the only person in the entirety of Wizarding Britain who missed that then,” she groused, opening the menu and taking in the options without really seeing them. “Rita Skeeter’s nasty little protégée wrote an entire Prophet article on our breakup.”

“I haven’t exactly kept up to date with current affairs,” he said awkwardly, lowering his gaze to the menu.  

“Current? This was eleven years ago, Malfoy.” She fixed him with a wary stare and whispered, “Don’t tell me Ginny was right? You really are a recluse?”

“This would be my first public outing in a very long time, yes,” he said carefully without looking up. “But I do venture forth from my little fortress every so often. I was at Theo’s anniversary do a few months ago.”

“I missed that,” she said. “I was supposed to be there, but Harry had a crisis with his brood. You’d never believe it - there was a cursed photo-frame stuffed behind a piece of panelling in the drawing room at Grimmauld, and Lily managed not only to find it but to activate it. She was stuck inside it for hours and Harry was beside himself, but we got her out and she was alright in the end.”

“Grimmauld,” Malfoy murmured, and his silver eyes rose to meet hers. “My aunt’s family home?”

She nodded and then the knut dropped. “I forgot you’re a Black too by blood.”

His mouth twitched and he nodded. “I haven’t been there since I was a very small child. I’m assuming they redecorated…”

“Thoroughly.”

“Not thoroughly enough,” he quipped. “That awful tapestry still knocking around?”

“God no,” she scoffed. “That was one of the first things to go. Along with the collection of shrunken house elf heads and the troll skull that screamed at you if you got too close to it. There was even a boggart in the basement, if you can believe the cliché. Anyway,” she said, keen to change topics, “You were proving to me that you aren’t a complete hermit. Was Theo’s party really the last thing you went out for?”

He seemed a little bashful as he nodded. “I… I don’t exactly find myself welcome everywhere, even now, Granger,” he said dryly. He’d nearly finished his wine, and when Tom hobbled over to take their food order, he asked for a second glass, in which Hermione joined him.  

“Guess we are degenerates after all,” she said as she met his eyes over the empty table.  

“The people behind you certainly seem to think very little of your choice of prandial company, Granger,” he said flatly, interlacing his long fingers and arching a pale eyebrow.  

Where at Hogwarts he’d had pale, pristine hands, now she saw innumerable scars and nicks across his knuckles, and they were undoubtedly the strong, steady hands of a grown man, with none of the softness of youth. Heat bloomed across her neck and face, and to distract herself she looked over her shoulder to glower at the people shooting them scandalised looks across the dark pub.  

“Screw them,” she muttered. “They have no idea about anything anyway.”

If Malfoy was puzzled by her outburst, he didn’t show it.  

They shared their meal and spoke easily enough about Hermione’s astonishing and unprecedented rise through the ministry, and how she’d cracked one day — the details of which she chose not to divulge — and had quit and decided to open a bookshop instead. “It’s been so much more fulfilling,” she finished, slightly breathless.  

“A bookshop?” he smiled, eyes glittering.  

“I know, I know,” she growled, gesticulating with her dessert spoon in between delicious mouthfuls of Florian’s ice cream which the Leaky now sold. “Could I be any more cliché?”  

With a graceful shrug of one shoulder, Malfoy just said, “I think it suits you. And if it makes you happy, why not?”

“What makes you happy then?” she asked before her brain had caught up with the question. “I mean…” she flushed hot again. “I just wondered what you do up at the Manor all day.”

“Well,” he said evenly around a slice of apple tart, “Until this morning, I largely oversaw Scorpius general education, but I have been involved in a number of other projects here and there too.”

“Projects?”

“Mmm,” he said, but clearly wasn’t in the mood to elaborate and she didn’t press.

“Well, Theo’s having drinks at his place on Friday… you should come.”

“Which place?”  

“He has more than one place? I thought he closed Nott Manor up for good?”

Malfoy smirked. “He has a number of places, Granger.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. “Well, his usual one here in London, I suppose… He didn’t tell me anything different…” She set her spoon down and sat back. “Merlin, I’m full,” she laughed. “So, will you come?”

“Do you always invite strays to other people’s parties?”

“Do you always deflect social invitations in the hopes that they’ll go away if you ignore them long enough?” she countered with an even stare.  

Malfoy’s spine stiffened a touch at that, but the look which settled onto his face could only be chalked up to respect, and he allowed himself another flinty smile. “Touché,” he said. “Yes, it usually works well enough.”

“Not this time.”

“Evidently,” he said with crisp enunciation. “Fine. I will consider attending.”

She snickered almost childishly at that. “You make it sound like it’s some fancy black tie do that you might condescend to attend if the mood strikes…”

“I don’t know what a ‘black tie do’ is, but I am considering condescending to attend all the same.”

“Fair enough. And a black tie event is a Muggle thing. It’s like dress robes for Muggles.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you.”  

And with that, their conversation stalled for the first time all afternoon. Hermione looked down at her watch and gasped. “God, Malfoy, it’s been three and a half hours!”  

“I’m surprised you lasted five minutes if I’m honest,” he said quietly.  

She frowned and delved into her handbag again, looking for her coin purse. “You fancy taking a walk to shake all this food down?” she asked, but Malfoy was already shaking his head.  

“Unfortunately, I really should get going. Please, Granger, let me pay for this. It’s been an unexpected pleasure on a day that would otherwise have been very grey indeed.”

His sincerity struck her like a physical blow, and she could hardly respond as Tom came over as if summoned by the clink of money, and Malfoy smoothly left a handful of coins on the tray and told Tom to keep the change.  

“Very well, M’lord,” Tom said, bowing slightly as he left.  

“‘M’lord’?” Hermione asked and Malfoy immediately rolled his eyes.  

“I really wish people wouldn’t call me that. Mercifully it doesn’t happen all that often. I usually find myself on the receiving end of far less gracious epithets.”

“You are a lord though? Your father wasn’t a lord, was he?”

“No. It’s Lord Black, technically. My father had no claim to the title, being a Malfoy, but with my mother’s blood, I inherited the title. Needless to say, I don’t bandy it around if I can help it.”

“I see,” she said, rising from her seat. “Well, thank you for lunch. You really didn’t have to pay though.”

“I know,” he said shyly as he stood with the grace of a lifelong seeker. “Still, it was a pleasure.”

She smoothed her clothes out, trying to avoid feeling like that frumpy old matron beside the lean, tall figure of Draco Malfoy, and pursed her lips. “See you Friday then?”

Before he’d obviously thought about it, Malfoy nodded. “Friday,” he said, and then realised he’d committed himself and laughed softly with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Friday,” he said again.  

Hermione held out her hand to him and he surprised her yet again by taking it delicately in his fingers and raising her knuckles to his lips. The faintest brush of a kiss against her skin set her tingling all over and she nearly gasped, flushing a dark crimson.  

“Good day, Granger,” he said, and stalked from the pub.  

Outside on Diagon Alley’s cobbled streets, he disapparated without looking back.

___

If you liked where it’s going and want to see more, do let me know! Either by reblogging this or sending me an ask.

Part Three

writing masterlist | Ao3

[mrssimply]

Hello! I hope you aren't getting too many Kerry x Johnny but you write them so well and their chemistry that it's impossible not to want more :D From the kissing ones: "Kissing tears from the other’s face." to make it more interesting c:

Hey anon, thank you for the prompt :D and Thank you for your kind words, I'm very happy to contribute to the fandom the way I can, and like. Writing really is a passion to me.

BUT, I'm not sure what you expected requesting that prompt but erm... I thought about taking on a silly turn for this one, but in the end, I think it cannot be anything else but angst with them.

Please, prepare your tissues, because we go into canonical major character death here (althought the death itself is not described, the game did that for us). I'm sorry in advance.

But I consider it my job to make you all cry once in a while: it's cathartic.

Si tu t’en vas, si tu t’en reviens…

If you go, if you come back…

The call came at three in the morning. Kerry jolted awake, sweat covering his body as the ringing wrenched him from yet another nightmare. Chasing the remains of the terror he had been drowning into, he took his phone with shaking hands.

He had to try twice before he could properly utter a hello in the receiver.

“Mister Eurodyne?”

“Yeah, t’s me,”

“I’m Officer Selene Fransh, from the NCPD station in Little China. You’ve been listed as Mister Silverhand next of kin.”

Kerry breath settled. This was familiar. The NCPD was better than the hospital. He probably wasn’t dead. Yet.

“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll come and get him.”

She then proceeded to give him the amount needed to bail Johnny out, and the procedure. But the musician was more than familiar with the proceedings.

---

When two officers brought Johnny to the front of the station, he was cursing and buckling like a bull at rodeo. His face was covered in blood, probably his own judging by the trace coming from his nose and mouth. But other than that, he seemed fine, if drunk and probably high. He stopped struggling when he saw Kerry and there was a moment of suspension before he was pushed toward his friend.

“You came.” Johnny muttered, eyes glazed.

“Always,” Kerry replied with a shaking smile. As long as I can, he thought.

They gave him back his stuff, which mostly consisted of his aviators and pack of smokes. The glasses went over his eyes before they were out of the precinct, and Johnny shakily lit a cigarette as they made their way to Johnny’s Porsche. It was two blocks away, the rocker indicated, in front of the club where he had been savagely attacked by gonks. That was his version. The police version spoke about assault from Johnny on two unsuspecting corpo, but Kerry didn’t comment. Johnny was babbling, still under the effect of the drugs he had taken. Probably Lace, if Kerry knew his friend.

---

The way back to Kerry’s was made in relative silence, with only disparate and weird comments from Johnny as alcohol and drugs ran their courses through his blood stream. They only had to stop once for the rocker to throw up noisily. All through that, Kerry said nothing, heart clenching painfully at seeing his friend in such state.

He had come back from his trip with the Aldecaldos four years ago. He had seemed to get better after his return, until he had been pulled under by the corpo’s war going full swing around them. For the past year, Kerry had watched him turn darker, more violent, until his face was perpetually struck in a sneer. There had been moments of grace, though, lost in time, that Kerry cherished above everything else. But these moments couldn’t save Johnny from the darkness eating at him. Kerry couldn’t save him from it.

They had reformed Samurai, or tried to but between Denny and Henry falling out, the man’s own addiction problems, and Nancy killing her abusive husband… And Johnny, of course. They were still supposed to play tomorrow night, at The Hammer, but seeing the state Johnny was in, Kerry doubted he would show up.

---

Back at his shitty flat, Johnny made a bee-line for the bathroom and vomited again. Kerry put water to boil with the idea of making coffee, or use one of the teas his sister had gifted him at Christmas. But when Johnny came out, he only grunted before opening the cabinet of Kerry’s little kitchen, finding a half-drunk bottle of scotch and drinking heavy gulps directly from it.

Kerry watched him do it with desperation burning in his veins. Then Johnny put the bottle on the table and heavily sat on the couch before lighting yet another smoke. Kerry sat back with him and lit one of his own. They shared the silence for a moment.

“Johnny,” Kerry breathed, and his friend jerked to his feet, pushing his aviator on his head.

“This is meaningless, Kerry! Everything is meaningless!” he exploded, kicking the low table and spilling the contents everywhere. The other man only righted the bottle with a sigh. He got up and tried to approach his friend.

“Come on, Johnny, we need to clean you up.”

But Johnny shoved him harshly off him, and Kerry stumbled and hit his head against the wall. Wincing, he cursed and Johnny rounded on him, body brimming with tension. His eyes were wild, feverish from the substance abuse and for a moment Kerry feared his companion couldn’t even recognize him anymore.

Johnny closed in on him in two big strides, taking the collar of his shirt in hands and yanking him in. Their teeth clashed painfully, making Kerry keen pitifully before he tried to shove Johnny away. But the man only pushed further until the musician’s head banged the wall again. In desperation, Kerry bit his lip, harsh and Johnny growled before retreating with a curse.

Kerry evaded him, going to the bathroom where he started pulling out supplies to clean Johnny’s face.

“I thought you loved me.” Johnny said from where he was heavily leaning in the doorway. Kerry didn’t reply, only pushed past him with the disinfectant and bandages.

“Come on, sit.”

Whatever was going on Johnny’s head, being rejected by Kerry seemed to have surprised him enough. He sat and watched his friend with suspicion, a fraction calmer.

“You never say no, usually.”

Kerry let out a hysterical chuckle. How nice it was to have his fucking infatuation thrown at his face like that.

“You’re drunk and stoned, Johnny. I won’t fuck you like this.”

Then he knelt between his friend’s knees with a cotton beforehand imbibed with disinfectant. He started on the slight cut on Johnny’s cheekbone. The man reeked of alcohol as he breathed shallowly, watching Kerry’s face intently.

“How do you do it, Ker?” he whispered after a moment, where Kerry had applied a band-aid on the cut. “How can you continue to live on normally, with all that’s happening!”

Kerry’s eyes flickered to his.

“I’m not like you, Johnny,” he explained, while softly dabbing another cotton to the corner of Johnny’s mouth. “I wish I was as brave as you, keeping up the fight always. But the truth is that most of the time I’m scared shitless…” he snorted, a self-depreciating sound. “I’m lame like that.” He concluded.

Johnny frowned, before he caught Kerry’s hand.

“You’re right, when you’re like this, you’re lame. I way prefer when you scream at me, when you break your lungs on stage next to me, when you push me away, when you bite me ‘cause you don’t want me kissing ya…”

And his friend couldn’t stop the soft smile blooming on his face. It was… nice. In a Johnny kind of way. He finished wiping the blood off the rocker’s face before getting up.

“Come on, we can yell at each other tomorrow.” He said, pulling Johnny behind him toward the bed.

Said man stayed silent, unmoving as Kerry helped him undress to his boxers. He willingly went to the bed, and turned to Kerry as he pulled the covers over themselves and shut down the light.

“Ker,” he whispered after a moment. “I’m drowning.”

The words, lost in the dark of the night, where like a punch to Kerry’s stomach.

“I know,” he still replied, because he couldn’t deny it.

“I can’t stop the rage inside. I can’t recall the last time I wasn’t fuckin angry. I thought I could live with it, but the moment I came back from the desert, it started again, like ants crawling under my skin. I can’t stop it. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t act. That my mind will explode. I feel like I’m dying, piece by piece.”

Kerry closed his eyes against the onslaught of pain Johnny’s confession caused. It was breaking his heart, ravaging his soul, tearing his mind. He couldn’t breathe.

“I feel so powerless. Every time I hear about their war, I get so… So…” he couldn’t find the words, it seemed. “I want to kill them all, Ker. I want to put my hands around their throats and squeeze until I snap their spines Until they choke on their own blood. I want to smash their heads until they bleed and their brains splatter against the pavement.”

The other man clenched his hands in the pillow to stop his shaking and took slow deep breathes, even though the air he inhaled seemed as heavy as lead.

“I’m drifting, falling apart, fading away.” Johnny breathed, voice wet. Slowly, his hand crawled toward Kerry until he caught his wrist. “You’re the last thing anchoring me here, Ker. And I hate you for it.”

Kerry bit down a wounded sound and turned the other way, or tried to because Johnny prevented him, instead moving over him.

“I hate you,” he repeated, breath warm against Kerry’s lips. Then he brushed their mouths, barely a kiss and Kerry kept his eyes closed, not sure he could bear to expose himself any more.

Johnny’s hands went to his head, framing his cheek to kiss him for real this time. That’s when Kerry felt the wetness trailing over Johnny’s cheeks. He was crying. Johnny was crying. Kerry was pretty sure it was the first time he was witnessing it. Even after Alt, he hadn’t shed a tear in public.

When the rocker pulled back, Kerry opened his eyes and could faintly see, in the low light of the city through the blinds, the traces of shimmering tears. Johnny’s eyes shone too, strangely, and his mouth trembled a bit as he caressed Kerry’s temple from the tip of his fingers.

Slowly, Kerry brough his hand to Johnny’s face and wiped the tears, but fresh ones replaced them immediately. Johnny continued to cry silently with only his breathing, deep and trembling, betraying him. Pushing up gently, Kerry kissed the tears, licking the salty water from the tip of his lips.

Then, Johnny exhaled and buried his head in Kerry’s neck.

“Whatever happens tomorrow, Ker.” Johnny mumbled against his skin. “Whatever happens tomorrow…”

And Kerry waited for him to finish his sentence, but he never did. Not aloud anyway. He wrote it over Kerry’s skin with hand and lips, with bites and scratches over his back and hips.

---

The call came at three in the morning. Kerry jolted awake, sweat covering his body as the ringing wrenched him from yet another nightmare. Chasing the remains of the terror he had been drowning into, he took his phone with shaking hands.

He had to try twice before he could properly utter a hello in the receiver.

“Kerry?” Said Rogue’s voice. It was soft, careful.

“Yeah,” he breathed, barely audible. She stayed silent for a long time, and he could hear her inhale and exhale deeply.

“He is dead.”

Silence.

Then there was a strange sound, like a wounded animal, something guttural and not completely human. It took Rogue speaking again for Kerry to understand that the sound was coming from him. The deny had left his throat without his consent or even his awareness as his heart stopped functioning and his mind blanked.

“I wasn’t sure at first, ‘cause Smasher got him and we had intel he’s been taken away. But he died. He is dead.” The merc repeated. Her voice was slightly trembling, but her tone stayed matter of fact the whole time.

Another silence.

“I’m sorry.” She concluded, and her voice broke at last. She hung up before Kerry could reply anything, but he understood.

Kerry let the phone fall between his knees and curled up on himself, gripping his head as pain like he had never known before invaded him. He chocked on his own saliva, coughing wetly as his lungs seemed to collapse and his whole being became a torch of agony. The tears burst out of his eyes without control, and his arms and legs started shaking.

He howled, arching back as anguish expanded from his core to the tip of his fingers. He heard himself beg “No, no please no, don’t.” But he knew. He had known when Johnny had finally showed at The Hammer last night. One look at his face had been enough: he was already half-dead. But of course, even if rationally he had known, nothing could have prepared him for the reality of losing him.

He had kept tabs on the news anxiously as the events proceeded. And when the tower had exploded, Kerry had watched it numbly. Distantly hearing something akin to a mirror shattering inside of him.

But now, it was real, there was no hope of him having pulled the impossible. Rogue had confirmed it and Kerry knew she had waited until she was sure. He had heard the brutal reality in her voice.

His blood boiled inside his veins, fever taking him as he continued to cry. He must have fallen asleep like this, because the next time he woke up, the first lights of the day transpired from behind the blinds. In this strange level of consciousness between dream and reality, he felt a presence next to him, felt the bed dip and a shadow fall over his sleeping form. Lips brushing his cheek and kissing the tears away.

But when he truly opened his eyes, he was alone.

[thinkinem]

cf headcanons that have been kicking around my brain for forever

I haven’t contributed to fandom since I was like 12, but I love these characters too much and I thought it’d be fun to actually jot down the little stories I tell myself in the tags. 

and like, drop a line if you want to hear more about something or w a “prompt” 

Casey and Severide used to be a Thing. 

it was a long time ago and never super serious, but after tough calls as candidates they’d meet up for drinks and then just kinda not let each other go until the morning

it also made sense bc Andy and Heather were together pretty much since the first day of the academy and then all their other mutual friends found themselves significant others. So Casey and Sev ended up being the “perpetually single” friends at all the gatherings and it always made the grin and bear it at those things easier when you knew you weren’t really alone

Andy knew pretty much from the get but never said anything

eventually Kelly met Rene and Matt met Hallie and their Thing ended if you can end a Thing that never really existed past beers in a crowded bar and slow mornings with the bedroom door locked and jammed shut

(they picked it up again exactly twice: when Rene walked away and when Matt and Hallie broke it off for the third--but not last--time)

and even though it was never any thing More, it’s twelve years later and Matt can make Kelly’s morning coffee better than anyone else in the house and Kelly knows exactly how far Matt can get pushed before he has to loop an arm around his chest and pull him away before Matt risks a conduct unbecoming

Losing Andy was tough. Ten years later and Kelly still feels a tug of guilt for how he treated Matt those long months afterward. Except, a small, ugly part deep down inside him has never let him really apologize to Matt (because Andy was his best friend, dammit) so now he just overcompensates by being the occasional mother hen and the older brother that Matt had in Andy and deserves in Severide 

Kelly lets it slip to Stella that he and Casey used to have...Something. She’s remarkably unsurprised and that makes Kelly a little indignant because “hey! I’m a catch and in case you haven’t noticed, Case has zero game!” which of course got him “Kelly, you know his locker combo by heart, you don’t even know mine”

Matt’s dyslexic. 

not officially actually, there was a note in his school file starting in 2nd grade that it would probably be a good idea to get him tested but “there’s no way in Sam Hell that any son of mine is gonna be called slow for the rest of his life. Matthew is fine, and if he’s behind the other children it’s because he isn’t working hard enough. His mother coddles him you know”

Sylvie thinks it would be fun for them to start cooking a new dish every week from around the world and Matt gets into the habit of memorizing the recipes the night before because the idea of struggling through reading aloud in front of Sylvie Brett makes his hands sweat

she’s picks up on it eventually because she is Sylvie Brett after all and immediately starts researching and by the end of the month Matt has tried four different “reading and writing strategies” which also makes his palms sweat but more in a holy shit this woman sees all of me and takes to google and not the door what did I do to possibly deserve this kind of way

(it takes zero time at all for Boden to notice the difference in the speed and spelling of Casey’s incident reports and if the guy wasn’t still turning in godawful chicken scratch he would have started accusing Kylie of running a boon)

Four weeks after Matt and Sylvie finally Get It Together, Matt buys a house

which is to say Matt’s name is on the deed and Sylvie gets to live out her wildest HGTV fantasies 

they discover water damage in the attic and also that Matt has a serious thing for Sylvie in beat up jeans and one of his ancient academy hoodies (which means they also discover Sylvie’s skin is too sensitive to take even a quick roll on a $10 drop cloth but the store sells all natural organic ones for just 2 bucks extra and “Sylvie, babe, it’s definitely worth the investment, trust me”

The house is livable after 5 months of hard work and Matt never really asks Sylvie to move in it just becomes “when we get home” and not “I’ll meet you at the house” and a frankly inequitable split of closet space because “I like hanging stuff better so I can see all my choices thank you very much, Mr. Jeans-and-a-henley” (”I should’ve known you don’t like my clothes seeing how you’re always so eager to toss them on the floor”)

they spend the whole reno calling the third bedroom the office except neither of them even think about buying a desk and it’s a good thing too because 6 months after their first time hosting a party as homeowners Casey and Severide are three beers deep each assembling a crib each because “damn Case, you can never do things by halves huh?

Stella and Kelly get married on Molly’s back patio on a warm summer night in July four months after Stella found the ring in Kelly’s bedside drawer looking for a phone charger

Kelly nearly had a panic attack when she ran into the kitchen and thrust the ring box at his face with a triumphant smile because “Dammit, Stella, I had a speech and a nice bottle of champagnes and everything, --and stop laughing at me!” 

Boden walks Stella down the aisle and Terrance is right there next to him when he gets back to his seat but he’s known with absolute certainty that it’s been years and years since he’d answer “just one” if a stranger were to ask how many children he raised

Casey buy’s Sev’s first beer at Molly’s every night for the first full year of his happy marriage to make good on a bet they made with Andy in the academy

Mouch doesn’t have official Godfather title to any of the Hermann kids. But he doesn’t really mind because it means he can come over and wind those monsters up and then leave without an ounce of guilt. (When Hermann falls through the floor of that house with Casey Mouch starts packing his freezer with kid pleasing frozen meals because the job is risky and it’s always better to be prepared than not).

Mouch and Sylvie write a sequel to Sheets On Fire and it goes viral in the erotic fire-fiction community.

(Once, at family dinner, Severide looks Sylvie dead in the eyes and quotes the opening line of Chapter 6. Sylvie chokes on her rosé because maybe Severide (the bastard) really was interested in having a legitimate discussion about hose coiling techniques, but she just has to doubt it.)

[hanjo-love]

Now I became selfish and I hope the shard is showing Hanji being saved by Kiyomi or something. She go the worst treatment and if Isayama was afraid of the backslash like you said why make it even worse with those parallels with eremika? Is he preparing the Fandom for another levihan moment? I'm tired of EVERYONE surviving but her, Kiyomi's kindness really??? And Onyankopon, while I don't hate him, he survived a plane crash and he doesn't add much yet he is there for being the editor's favorite, Yelena is there after all she did and she adds even less, and the people titanized will revert to human (or at the very least Isayama's favorites will).

Oh anonie, you and me both my friend, you and me both 😔 Beware, a long rant-ish meta is ahead of you lol

I have absolutely no fucking idea why Yams decided to treat Hanjo like shit. You know, after a long time of denying her death, I was starting to accept it, because she was finally free, free of the burden and pain and finally reunited with the people she missed and longed for the most. But then Yams decided to slap us all in the faces saying there's no happy & peaceful afterlife in snk and Hanjo was probs only hallucinating because of her 4 years long depression? Well then, fuck you Yams! What was that even for? Isayama never backed off of showing us the horrors of death in snk, no matter how important the characters and how brutal their deaths really were. Still, he never showed us Hanji's actual death or dead body. He kept it misterious and his vague answers only made it worse. So it's only natural for us to expect a plot twist, right? That's the reason all of us gathered various hints in the manga, anime and his interviews. And lemme tell you, these theories are far more logical, better explained and have less plot holes than the entire final arc smh (yes I'm salty, fight me lol)

I hate to admit it, my inner self is still in denial and fighting, but Hanjo ain't coming back folks. We won't get any background story and the misterious shard will never be explained to us either. Yams had more than enough time to bring Hanjo back, if he truly wanted to. But he didn't. And now with only one chapter and so many unanswered questions left, there's no time for Hange's return. Why would he even do that anyways? Hanjo isn't important to him or to the story anymore. To us she is, always was and always will be ❤️ You know, I'm so fucking desperate to see her again, I'll even take one last panel of Levi remembering her, just like in ch136. Yams just let us see Hanjo one more fucking time 🙏🏻 I need to say my proper goodbyes to my one&only comfort character, who's influenced my life like no one else ever did ❤️

Back to Levihan (I don't think I can answer an ask without my biased and trashy shipper ass butting in lmfao): the question why Yams confirmed Levihan as canon if he didn't intend to bring Hange back and reunite her with Levi to make us him happy again? Well, isn't it obvious? This man is the devil incarnate. THIS MAN HAS NO FUCKING CHILLS lmfao JK y'all before someone declares war on me and my blog haha Well anonie, I feel like Yams really wanted to confirm his initially planned ships as canon, before the manga ends. And he chose the safest way possible. Easy as that. Also he said he is going for a bittersweet ending and what's more tragic (in this literal hell) than separating lovers, ergo Eremika and Levihan.

Now to something else, that's been bothering me for a while now and I'll use your ask anonie to share my thoughts with the world even though nobody asked lmao tbh I'm a bit disappointed with Armin. I love him, I really do. He's my precious cinnamon roll and my fave 104th kiddo. But honestly, I was expecting a bit more of the alleged "hero who will safe humanity". In fact, I'm sure Hanjo only died for Armin to become the new commander. That's it. That was the reason she had to die. Yams glossed over her to make Armin shine. But in fact, Levi's the one who's giving orders ever since Hange has left them. I might me salty, but I really hope the talk with Zeke (and probs Ymir as well, we still might have a chance to see the dialog that made Ymir change her mind) and his titan nuke weren't the only things he did as "humanity's hero" in this final arc. For some people this might me enough, for me it isn't. It wasn't worth Hange's sacrifice. Also what made me really sad was Armin himself glossing over Hanjo when he remembered Erwin Danchou, but not her. Like she didn't just pass away an hour ago to save their pathetic asses. Ugh this is making me hella mad, ngl. Hanjo didn't deserve this treatment! She gave her all for this! To save the alliance, to "pay the price" for her "sins" as the SC commander and to save humanity. I can't deal with how all of them and the fandom apparently forgot about that.

Now on to "Kiyomi's kindness" lol I wasn't really mad at Gabi for saying this as most of the fandom was. I won't go into detail why she isn't really a rationally thinking character (yo guys, you do remember she's a 12 year old kid, right?), but it's a fact that she didn't care for Hange enough to mention her. I mean, why would she? She barely even knew her. Also we don't really know what's gonna happen with Yelena, Kiyomi and her delegation. I don't know if I'm reading too much into it, but I feel like Kiyomi accepted her death with saying "that's not enough atonement for what I did anyway". I mean they don't know if the alliance will win (they probably think they won't) and they're in the middle of literally nowhere. So I feel like Gabi said that because Kiyomi sacrificed herself (and the others on that ship) willingly, for Gabi, Falco and Annie getting a little chance of surviving and helping the alliance. But I get the rage of the fandom. Especially because no one, except for Levi, remembered Hange after her noble sacrifice.

As for Yelena and Onyankopon, there obviously has to be someone from outside of Paradis to survive the rumbling, otherwise it wouldn't make a lot of sense, I guess. I like Onyankopon a hecking lot ❤️ precious boi was literally crying for Hanjo 😭 Yelena on the other hand deserves what she got. Death would be too easy and kind for her tbh. She has to live with the consequences, just like Kiyomi, so I'm actually glad they survived. So my guess is, it's not really about who's Yams' favorite and what these people are contributing to the story, but it's rather about a logical ending and a good conclusion of the story.

I agree with you about the ones who have been titanized. They'll for sure revert back to humans. It's not really Yams' style to kill of an important character like Gabi, whose character development he's been forcing on us for quite a while now lol. I'm pretty positive about an ending with the titan curse being broken and bringing the titanized people back to human beings (probs also the millions of colossal titans?). It's only natural for Yams to end the story with the titan curse being lifted. Otherwise it wouldn't make sense to end his story at this point. But let's not forget what a big ass troll Yams is lmao you never really know what he's up to, so let's prepare for the unimaginable lmfao

I'll probably never forgive Isayama for what he did to Hange, his best written character, how he completely ruined her and threw her away as disposable, just to make other characters "shine". HER DEATH WAS POINTLESS AND IT DID NOT FUCKING CHANGE ANYTHING! That's the harsh truth y'all. Yams betrayed Hanjo and us AND FOR WHAT?

Thanks for the ask anonie and sorry I turned this into my personal rant lmao hope you still enjoy reading my thoughts on this ❤️

[jobrookekarev]

Late Night Little Talks

Chapter One of One

Words: 1466

Summary: Meredith crawls into Alex and Jo’s bed late one night after she and Hayes introduce their kids to each other.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev & Meredith Grey, Alex Karev/Jo Wilson, Meredith Grey/Cormac Hayes (Mentioned).

Characters: Meredith Grey, Alex Karev, and Jo Wilson.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences,

Additional Tags: Fluff, Night time, Best Friends, Pregnancy, Platonic Cuddling.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: I was going to save this for later, but after I read Coco’s @cicinicole-14 story, I wanted to post some fluff in order to heal some of the heartbreak that I partially caused. Sorry not, sorry :)

If you haven't read her story be sure to go check it out Here, it's absolutely wonderful!

……………………………………………………………………

Alex smiled as if right on cue, he heard Meredith’s footsteps coming up the stairs by the door and the key jingles in the lock. He rolled over to where Jo was fast asleep on her side of the bed, laying away from him, and he put a hand on her baby bump. He felt their baby’s gentle kicks against his hand before he leaned over and kissed her cheek. With his wife and child fast asleep, he scooted closer to them, leaving just enough space in the bed for someone else.

The door to the Loft slid open without any squeaks thanks to the oil he had put on it earlier that night. He heard it closed before he heard Meredith kick off her shoes and shed her jacket as her gentle footsteps approached. He caught her outline as she stood at the end of the bed.

“So, how did it go?” Alex asked, sitting up slightly still pressed against Jo.

Meredith just groaned and huffed as she crawled onto the bed and lay down next to him before staring up at the ceiling. “It went fine.”

“Fine, that's it?” Alex asked again, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at her.

“It was, well, it was perfect. The kids were telling Amelia and Link all about it up until bedtime. Hayes and his boys came over, and I introduced them to the kids, and everybody just got along so easily. Liam and Austin started playing on the switch with Zola and Bailey, and they even included Ellis, and at dinner, all of the kids were polite and kind, and Hayes and I answered all their questions they had and they all seemed to be okay with it.”

“So what's the issue then? Isn't this what you wanted when you introduced Hayes to the kids? They're all getting along. It sounds pretty good to me.”

“I don't know. It just seems like they all got along too well,” Meredith said with a shrug before she looked over at Alex. “It just feels too good to be true.”

Alex looked over at Jo and reached out his hand to rest on her belly, feeling their baby move again. Ever since she had surprised him with the positive pregnancy test months ago, he had felt that feeling of fear and excitement. Growing up and life in general had taught him not to trust good things, but things had been so good recently.

“I know, it's like you're waiting for the second shoe to drop, but sometimes things are just good,” Alex said as he gazed over at them.

Meredith followed his eyes and looked over at his hand. “How's Jo and the baby doing?”

“They're doing great,” Alex said, letting an easy smile from across his lips as he gazed down at his wife and unborn child.

“I see you guys got the nursery started,” Meredith said as she looked over at the area where his weight and boxing stuff used to be. The space was now scattered with furniture boxes, bags of baby clothes, the bassinet, and the rocking chair that they had recently set up, along with the clouds and hot air balloon mobile that Jo had hung up.

Alex was about to respond before he looked back at her. “Stop deflecting. You and Hayes, this is a good thing. To be honest, I haven't seen you this happy in a long time, and things seem to be going well. I know it’s hard to trust, but life can be good, Meredith.”

“I know and I'm happy too,” Meredith said, finally letting a light smile grace her cheeks. “At least I want to be. I don't know. I just feel like I can see a future with him and I want it.”

“So go, make it happen,” Alex said, giving her a nudge. “Go home to your kids and invite your boyfriend over and spend the night with him.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Meredith asked, raising her eyebrows.

“No,” Alex said with a light chuckle. “But it's about to get pretty crowded in here, I mean, Jo’s only six months along, and she already takes up most of the bed.”

“I'm going to tell her you said that,” Meredith said as Alex shot her a look, but she just laughed.

“You do, and I'll tell Hayes that you have a photo album of just his butt in your phone,” Alex said as he smirked at her.

“Oh, and what if I tell Jo about the photo album of her boobs in your phone?” Meredith asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, she knows about that one and happily contributes to it,” Alex said with a smug look as he looked over at Jo again. “She sends me photos of how big they're getting along with her bump update photos.”

“Okay, perv,” Meredith said, rolling her eyes before she stared up at the ceiling again.

They lapsed into silence for a moment as they both stared up at the skylights. Alex didn't want to close his eyes. He knew Meredith had more to say, she was just still thinking it over on her mind. They both knew the tragedies that could come, and he knew that the possibilities were going through her mind as they sometimes went through his late at night.

“I want to trust it, I really do,” Meredith said finally, her voice just a whisper. “But I don't know if I can.”

“I know,” Alex whispered back as he just rubbed his hand over Jo's belly and felt their baby squirm under his hand. “But today was good and if that's all we have. I'll take it.”

Meredith looked over at him as he caught her eye. She nodded before she nudged his shoulder again and he nudged her back. They exchanged a smile before both of them settled in and before long, they were asleep.

……………………………………………………………………

Jo woke up to a sharp kick to the side of her belly. “Jesus, kid.”

Jo rubbed her hand up and down her bump, trying to get the baby to settle down. This always happened whenever she slept. Their child decided to take advantage of the quiet nights to practice their acrobatics and their soccer kicks. She felt Alex's hand on the side of her bump and smiled. Even as he fell asleep, he wanted to hold their baby. At least this time they didn't kick her bladder. Speaking of which, she had to pee again, and she groaned as she threw back the covers and got up out of bed.

The clock on her nightstand said that it was early morning, and it was still dark out as she quietly made her way over to the bathroom. When she came back, she went over to the kitchen and grabbed a small bag of chips before she walked a couple of loops around the couch. The walking and rubbing her hand up and down on her belly, gently calmed the baby down, and Jo suspected they had fallen asleep as the kicks became softer and less frequent. She was half-asleep herself through most of her walk, so she didn't notice Meredith until she went to crawl back into bed.

Meredith was next to Alex on his other side. They slept shoulder to shoulder on their backs, like mismatched twins. Alex's mouth was open as he snored, and Meredith had her arms crossed, even in her sleep. It was a cute little sight and wasn't something that she was used to seeing. Although Meredith still crawled into their bed on occasion, it wasn’t nearly as much as she used to do before they moved into the Loft. These days she didn't kick Jo out and instead crawled in next to her or occasionally crawled in with her when she needed it.

Jo got back into bed, pressing her back up against Alex's side before she grabbed his hand and put it over her belly. He moved in his sleep to snuggle up against her before he let out a sigh of content, and she smiled. His heart belonged to her and their baby, but he also had friends who he was close to. After watching their friendship for years, Jo was glad that he had Meredith. She would always be there for him and for Jo too. They were family, and it was something Jo had to get used to because she hadn't had a family of her own before, but now she did, and their baby would have family too.

[nuttersincorporated]

Brainladdin

Here’s my contribution to the deez-art’s Brainladdin au. Please check out their art. It’s awesome!

Thank you to cawareyoudoin for betering this. Any mistakes left are my own.

Prologue: The great and powerful genie, Yakko, breaks the fourth wall to argue with the author and introduce you to the Brainladdin au. Also, Arabian Nights has been rewritten for this au.

Fandoms: Animaniacs, Pinky and the Brain and Disney’s Aladdin

Word Count: 1031

Warning: The fourth wall may never recover but other than that, nothing.

Oh, you’ve heard of the tale Yes, Aladdin’s well known You’ve watched it and read it before There is magic and love And a carpet above It’s Disney and also folklore

But we’re mixing it up Animaniacs style The writer’s completely deranged Make yourself a hot tea Read this fanfic and see How the story you know has changed!

See fan art tonight! And read fanfic today! The writer has flipped And thrown out the script Hope this turns out okay!

Here’s fan works tonight Based on a cartoon A new role to fill Will Brain fit the bill? Read to find out soon

Hellooooooo, reader!

Tremble in fear, puny mortal! For I am the great and powerful genie, Yakko the magnificent!

Just, kidding! You have nothing to fear. I’m mean, I am a powerful genie but I’m also helping out the storyteller by introducing you to the Brainladdin au. The only thing you have to fear is my killer jokes!

Author's Note: He says he’s helping but really, I didn’t ask for this. I just wanted to start the story in a normal way. Personally, I think this prologue is too meta but Yakko insisted.

Go away! You get to tell most of the story your way. Let me do the introduction. The people deserve to know what they are getting into with this fic!

Author’s Note: Okay, okay! I’m going!

Thank you!

Okay, lovely reader, what’s that look for? You weren’t expecting this fanfic to break the fourth wall? Look, kids; this is Animaniacs meets Aladdin, the fourth wall was never safe here.

That said, don’t worry, it won’t always be this direct. This is just the prologue to set the scene.

Anyway, where was I before the author interrupted and you got all worried about the state of the fourth wall?

Oh, yes. That’s right!

Our story takes place in a place you might almost recognize. ACMEbah is the capital city of the desert kingdom, Warner-rabia. It’s a place full of magic, mystery and wacky animation.

Here are the players in this little pantomime:

Yakko: That’s me! The great and powerful genie of the lamp and star of the show! Outside of this prologue, I don’t turn up in the story until a few chapters in. Don’t be disheartened. It’ll be worth the wait. I’m funny and… -sigh- the author is telling me to get on with it. She also says I’m not the star but what does she know?

Brainladdin: A street mouse with big dreams. At the start of our story, he aims to escape poverty and change how ACMEbah is run. He wants to make it a fair place for everyone, including his young ward Wakko, who I’ll tell you about in a moment.

The guards think of Brainladdin as a petty criminal and public menace. The poorer inhabitants of ACMEbah think Brainladdin is a foolish dreamer who’ll never get anywhere in life. Brainladdin has not let others' assumptions stop him from trying. In fact, given a change of circumstances, Brainladdin might just get the chance to reach higher than even he’s ever dared to dream.

Wakko: I love this kid and so will you! Until a few years ago, Wakko was just another orphan trying to scrap out a living on the streets of ACMEbah. Then Brainladdin saved his life and more or less unofficially adopted him. Wakko now enjoys helping Brainladdin with his plans.

Wakko is a great kid with a heart of gold, a bottomless appetite and almost endless optimism. He loves making people laugh, has no respect for authority, and is extremely loyal to those he cares about.

Princess Jaspinky: Jaspinky has spent his whole life in the palace. He is expected to be the perfect Princess; keep quiet, not rock the boat and marry a suitable Prince to strengthen Warner-rabia’s power on the global scale.

Jaspinky desperately wants to make others happy. Unfortunately, he’s a lonely, clumsy ball of nerves who always seems to say the wrong thing. He feels like a disappointment. This isn’t helped by his distant mother or the fact that most of the staff remain completely professional around him so that he cannot connect to them. If he could admit to wanting anything for himself, it would be a chance to make more friends and to marry for love.

Sultan-CEO: She’s Jaspinky’s mother and the ruler of the kingdom. How does a seemingly human woman have a child that is presumably a mouse? Don’t ask silly questions! Jaspinky takes after his father of course!

The Sultan-CEO isn’t the nicest person, but she does want the best for her kingdom, or at least she wants to make the kingdom more powerful. She is often busy with matters of state and has little time or patience for those who disappoint her.

Dot: She’s a wonderful, cute kid, who’s so witty. Dot (don’t call her Dotty) is Princess Jaspinky’s personal maid servant, and his best friend.

If the Sultan-CEO knew of their friendship, she probably wouldn’t approve. Status doesn’t matter to Jaspinky and he thinks Dot is the best. However, according to Dot, her full name is Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca III, so in reality she and Jaspinky are equals anyway.

Snowballjafar: He’s the Royal Vizier and after the Sultan-CEO, he holds the most actual power in the kingdom. I’m sure he’s a nice guy and we don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to his intentions. The manipulation and casual cruelty he uses against everyone – other than the Sultan-CEO – is probably just your imagination.

Ralph: He’s the head of the palace guards. Ralph isn’t the isn't the sharpest tool in the shed but then, he doesn’t need to be. He’s paid to follow orders not ask questions.

Okay, now you’ve met the main players, and the stage is set! Click the link to move forwards and start reading the story proper!

Author’s Note: Okay, Yakko’s gone now. I just want to say sorry for this overly fourth wall breaking intro. I’ll keep him under control more from now on. The fourth wall will be much sturdier in Chapter One, I promise.

[callmemythicalminx]

Birds and the Bees 4- DBH Connor x Reader

Can be read as a stand alone!

Fandom: Detroit:Become Human

Warning: Talking ‘bout sex, Awkwardness

Summary: Now that you and Connor have been doing ‘The Devil’s Tango’ for a few months now, you’ve noticed something recently that seems too insane to be true. It’s time for you to see if it’s actually possible. 

A/N: I had to write another part of BATB for my first fanfic back after being away for so long. You guys really love this series and it’s one of my favourites too. Every since finishing part 3.5, I always wanted to add more as there’s definitely more ideas to be told with Connor and his innocense. I feel like this might be the last one, but who knows, I might write more in the future...

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

What. The. Fuck! 

This is actually happening. The stick in your hands confirms it- you’re pregnant. For the past two months, you’d noticed that you’d missed a few periods, nearly every morning waking up with a trip to the bathroom to throw up and your tiredness had been getting worse everyday too. You’d had initial ideas that it might just be stress or your irregular cycle making you feel ill, but eventually you had to come to the absolutely insane idea that you may actually be pregnant with Connor’s baby. 

You’d tried to put off taking a test because your mind refused to believe this could be happening. Not that you don’t want a kid, you’d love to have little versions of Connor and yourself running around. But you want kids much further in the future. And also, there’s the teeny tiny odd question of how the hell this has happened! You’re human. Connor is an android. For this exact reason, the two of you haven’t been bothering with protection with all the sex you’ve been having, as you’re both clean and your boyfriend is infertile- or so you thought. 

You don’t even know how he’s going to react to this. Will he be happy or sad? And how is everyone else going to react? Yourself and Connor have only been dating for over a year, so it’s much too soon to be having children. You take in a deep breath, sighing as you move your hands down to your stomach.

“I don’t know how you got in there little Floobie, but here you are. God, I hope your Daddy is gonna be okay with this”.

You walk into the living room to see Connor seated on the couch trying to complete one of his puzzles, the stick containing the proof of your future feeling like a burning weight in your sweaty palm as you approach him. 

“Connor? I- I uh- I have something I need to show you” You announce, breaking him from his deep concentration as he stares at the pieces in his hand.

“Y/N? Is everything alright? You look really pale and I can detect your temperature rising rapidly”.

You let out a short laugh, walking forward to rest your free hand on his arm as you take a seat beside him. “I’m fine Connor, I’m just a little nervous. I’ve just found out some big news”. He opens his mouth to question you, but your worried look has him stopping short. Instead of telling him, you decide to instead place the test in his hand so he can see it for himself.

As you move to do so, a million thoughts race through Connor’s mind. Are you sick? Are you leaving him? Are you finally gonna get a dog and you’re putting a collar in his hand? With trepidation, he opens his palm as your closed hand begins to open, his eyes flickering quickly as he tries to figure out what you’re about to give him. When the light weight of the stick falls into his hand, his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and he tilts his head slightly to the side. You hold your breath as he brings the test closer to his face, his face tilting (nearly touching his shoulder now) as he inspects it. 

You wait for a reaction, a smile or a frown, anything. But he just continues to look at it. You begin to fear the worse when he finally looks up at you and-

“It’s not working”.

You copy his earlier movement as your own head now turns in confusion, looking at Connor's oddly very calm face. 

“What-what do you mean? I just used it. I just used three of them actually to make sure it was right”.

“So you are ill then? Y/N, darling, you should have just come to me, you didn’t need to waste your money buying these things. I am quite advanced with this sort of health observation, thanks to Cyberlife, but you already know that. Which is why I don’t understand why you’d-”.

“Wait, hold on Connor, what do you think this actually is” You ask, incredulously.

 “Um… A thermometer. As I said darling, it’s quite easy for me to simply look at you and take an accurate reading of your temperature, in fact I’ve noticed recently-”.

“Connor I’m pregnant”. 

He stops for just a moment. Then…

“Oh yes, I already know. Like I was saying, I’ve noticed recently that your bodily readings have been different than usual these past few months and on more than one occasion, I have detected that you’ve been sick in the mornings and hid it from me. I was getting so worried that I just decided to do a full body scan while you were sleeping one night and that’s when I realised there was new life growing inside you”.

“Connor… I-I… You... You knew I was pregnant?! W- why didn’t you tell me?”.

“I thought you already knew? Because of your periods? When a woman discontinues having a monthly release of blood, is it clear to see that she’s pregnant with new life. That and you haven’t been buying any new sanitary products or telling me to go out on calorie hauls everytime you go through that specific time”.

You breathe a deep sigh, of both relief and shock. In fairness, you probably should have realised Connor would have been able to sense you were pregnant- he is the most advanced detective android there is. You guess that your disbelieving of the possibility of this happening also overlooked the fact that your boyfriend is a robot genius.

“If you already thought I was pregnant, did you not question why I hadn’t told you?”

He looks away sheepishly, lifting his hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I thought this was something that women just deal with on their own, the male doesn’t really do much in most cases of animals. The female is the one who cares for the baby with her body, the male is just there to protect and keep them both safe. So I thought it was just a way for you to keep ‘the bun in the oven’ to make sure you’re looking after it okay”. 

You blink. You blink again. Then you let out a small laugh and bury your face in your hands shaking your head. That has to be the weirdest thing to come out of your boyfriend's mouth, even after everything he’s said these past few months. When you look back up at Connor again, you see him looking at you, head titled again and you let out another laugh, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. 

“Oh Connor… We’re not animals, even though we do act like them sometimes, especially rabbits,” You let out another small laugh, while Connor smiles nodding in agreement “, Couples bring their babies into the world together, supporting each other. Granted the woman does do pretty much all of the work, but the man doesn’t just ‘protect’ and keep them safe, though it is appreciated. They help keep the mother healthy, comfortable, relaxed, loved- like you will right? You do want this baby don’t you Connor?”

“Of course, this is what I’ve wanted since we first made love”.

“Wait… what?”.

“Well, ever since you told me that sex is primarliy to create new life, I have been questioning Cyberlife about installing a new function within me to make me fertile. Though I have been quite enjoying our love making, I still haven’t been able to get the thought out of my head that we haven’t been doing it properly. So thankfully, Cyberlife agreed, on the grounds that it will be a good step in the right direction of progressing human-android relations”.

“So when did you become fertile?”.

“About half a year ago, maybe more”.

“Jesus, Connor, we’ve been having so much sex, it’ll be a wonder if I’m not pregant with twins”.

“I know, I’m surprised it took that long for you to become pregnant. And, statistically speaking, twins are only 3-4 out of every 1000 births, and there are many contributing factors. Sex can contribute to some extent, but it in our case it seems to have helped massively. Just last night, I did a scan again and saw that there are in fact two life forms inside you- how did you know darling?”

“Only 3-4 out of every 1000 births, eh? Well, that’s- WAIT WHAT?!?”

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

“What the fuck?! Twins” Hank utters as he places his half eaten burger down on his arm rest. 

To be honest, it probably wasn’t the best idea for you and Connor to tell him that you're having two children at this specific moment in time, eating the food that you had brought him for dinner to help ease this situation. The smarter thing to do would have been to tell him before, then give him the burger and drink from his favourite takeaway to calm him down. But as you sit there next to Connor with guilty smiles on your faces as you look at a horrified Hank who looks like he’s gonna be sick, you definitely know you should have told him sooner. 

“Wait, wait, wait, how is this even possible?! You’re an android and Y/N’s human, how does that work?”

You begrudgingly reply “It’s a long story”.

Connor however has no shame and immediately launches into re-telling the story of how you two began having sex. You have no power to stop him as you know this story is getting told no matter what because he is Connor afterall, so you simply sit back and stare down at your wine glass in embarrassment, feeling like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. 

Every once in a while, you’ll look up and see Hank growing progressively more green as your boyfriend retells how he first asked about sex and then anal, and then your many different sexual escapades including the one where he was in a meeting with Amanada, and then finally how you got pregant. Connor, still as innocent as ever, goes into great, unneeded detail not realising that this isn’t something he should really be telling his dad. Even Sumo looks sick, paws nearly over his ears as he lays at your feet. 

Finally after some time to reflect on what has just been said to him, Hank, looking equivalent to a cucumber in colour and looking faint, mumbles “So you two rabbits have been doing it everywhere huh?”.

As Connor happily nods in response, you sit in shame, taking a much needed gulp of wine, then another as Hank takes a big sip of his own drink.

 “We even did it on your desk.

Wine. Soda. Everywhere. Again.

*Sigh*

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

A/N: I realise a year later that I wrote the reader to be drinking alcohol during this... while she's pregnant. Don't drink if you're pregnant fellas, my dumbass forgot that 😌

[musingsofsaturn]

Braids

Fandom: Frozen, Frozen II

Ship: Anna/Kristoff

Words: 1,500+

Rating: K

Summary: Three times Kristoff braided Anna’s hair.

Author’s Note: So I’ve been cracking on with my contributions for Kristanna Week (because nothing screams ‘anxiety’ like preparing for a voluntary ship week two months in advance lmao) and found myself rather addicted to writing these two. Please enjoy this oneshot idea that popped into my head as I was plaiting my hair. I hope you like hair-playing fluff, and lots of it.

O N E

“So you take the strand on your left-”

“-on the left,” he whispered softly, probably not even realising he said it.

“And you take that and cross it over the one in the middle, so then that one is the one in the middle.”

“So that one is the one in the middle...” Anna felt Kristoff gently tug the strand into position. He let out a breath that he’d been holding, and she afforded him a supportive smile in the mirror.

“Great. And now, you take the strand that’s on your right-”

“-on the right.” She giggled when he repeated her words again, but she stifled it as a fake cough into her hand, so as not to discourage his efforts.

“And you put that one over the one in the middle, so now that’s the one in the middle.” Again, she felt him gently follow her instructions. “And then you just keep going! So start from the left again-”

“-the left again...”

Anna had always loved the feeling of having someone else style her hair, but this time it was even better. Kristoff had shown a great interest in her braids, and his face had lit up adorably when she offered to teach him how to do it. If she’d realised how pleasant it would be when his fingertips ghosted her scalp, and he gently brushed through the length of her hair, and carefully sculpted the strands into a single plait down her back, she would have offered to teach him sooner.

His touch was gentle, desperate not to cause her any pain. And his movements were so slow, taking so much focus from him to get it right. Anna realised just how much he was concentrating on his new skill when she noticed in the mirror that his tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth. The sight made her feel as though her heart was melting.

“I’m at the end - now what?” He sounded mildly panicked, which made Anna chuckle.

“Keep hold of it, hang on,” she instructed, leaning forward to grab a piece of ribbon which she handed to him over her shoulder. “Okay, you should be really good at this part. Just tie this around all the hair, underneath where you’ve braided.”

Kristoff fell completely silent, and Anna could tell from his stillness that he was holding his breath. “Done.” He stepped back, reaching for a hand mirror to show her the back of her head.

The braid was far from perfect - it was uneven, very loosely fastened, and oddly lumpy in places. But it was unmistakabley a braid.

“Kristoff!” Anna cried, feeling herself brimming with pride. “You did great! Keep practising and you’ll be my royal hairstylist in no time!”

They both shared a laugh at the notion as Anna got to her feet, smoothing her skirts. She placed a hand on his chest, leaning upwards to kiss him quickly.

At breakfast, Elsa did raise an eyebrow when she saw her sister’s hairstyle, but she quickly realised why it was so haphazard and couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across her face.

~

T W O

“These instructions are terrible,” Kristoff frowned, gazing down at the book on Anna’s dressing table for the hundredth time that evening. “They could have at least included pictures for the different steps.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to work it out.”

“I’m serious, all I have to go off is this picture that shows the finished product!”

Anna giggled lightly at his frustration. He always took hairstyling so seriously. Anna understood that this one was for a ball, but it was only a practice attempt, so she thought he really could relax about it a little bit. “You can just make something up if you can’t work it out.”

“I might just have to take you up on that, feistypants.”

As always, Kristoff fell silent as he started to braid. He was much more efficient at it than he used to be, and had even learnt styles from Anna and Elsa to add to his braiding and hairstyling repertoire. Anna in particular was more than happy to oblige his interest. She loved this time they spent together, with Kristoff’s skilled fingers twisting and braiding her hair into increasingly elaborate updos. It was strangely intimate, and she found herself looking forward to when Kristoff would shyly request to style it for her.

“You worked it out, huh?” She relaxed into his touch, delighting at the sensation of his fingers grazing across her neck and scalp as he gathered more hair.

He kept up his work, leaning over her shoulder every so often to check the instructions, occassionally huffing out frustrated whispers about how unclear they were. As ever, he was incredibly gentle, and a smile sprang to Anna’s lips when she looked at him in the mirror and saw that his tongue was poking out again.

“Okay,” he said finally, placing a comb decorated with crystals into the hair at the back of her head. “I think I got it.” As always, he held up the hand mirror for her to see.

Anna was actually impressed. The style had more little braids than she could count, twisted around into a low bun at the nape of her neck. It was neat, and felt secure, like it could survive all night at a ball. “Kristoff,” she grinned, “It’s amazing!”

He laughed slightly, admiring his own handiwork. “Yeah, it’s not bad for a scruffy ice harvester is it, feistypants?”

She wafted a hand in the air, as if batting away his insult to himself. “Looks like the work of a royal hairstylist to me!”

~

T H R E E

As was ever the case, it felt like Kristoff was the only person in the room who understood what Anna needed. Everyone had been fussing over her and the palace all day. The palace was a flurry of activity, which normally would excite Anna, but today only added to her nerves. Finally, recognising how it was all impacting her, Kristoff had discreetly asked the servants to leave his fiancée’s room, and instructed the guards at the door that no one was permitted to enter for a while.

“What if I trip up?” Anna looked at him, eyes wide, as he escorted her to the chair at her dressing table.

“That’s why you’re in flats, not heels,” Kristoff reminded her gently.

At Kristoff’s insistence, she sat down. “What if I forget the words?”

“You’ve been practising for weeks, Anna. There’s not a person - or a creature - in this castle who hasn’t memorised them by now.”

“What if I drop the sceptre?”

“You won’t do that,” he told her firmly.

She turned in her chair, placing her hands on his shoulders to stare fearfully into his eyes. “But what if I do?”

“Then I will stand up and sing some opera to distract everyone while you pick it up,” he told her earnestly. “Feistypants, listen to me. You are so prepared for this. You have rehearsed this ceremony a thousand times, and everyone is rooting for you to do well. Just make sure you grip that sceptre well before you pick it up, and everything will be fine.”

They shared a quiet smile, and Kristoff directed her to turn back around in her chair. She sighed as he gathered her hair in his hands. It felt so familiar and comforting to have her fiancé’s fingers carefully twisting and braiding her hair, as he had done a thousand times before. He worked quickly, and in no time at all he was pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before reaching for her hand mirror as she gazed into the looking glass in front of her.

“I tried to do the style that your mom has, in her portrait, I-” Kristoff noticed her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh no, Anna, oh please don’t cry. I’ll take it out, I’ll start over, I’m sorry.”

Her voice was a whisper as she gave him a watery smile in the mirror. “Kristoff, it’s perfect.”

He took her hands in his own, tugging her to her feet. Her arms went to his waist as his fingers grazed under her eyes to wipe away her tears before they could fall too far.

“Thank you,” was all she said, leaning upwards to kiss him quickly in a way that reminded him of the first time he’d ever plaited her hair, all those years ago. So much had changed. But one thing hadn’t.

“I love you, feistypants.”

Anna giggled, feeling her nerves subsiding slightly. “I love you too.”

Kristoff pulled himself upright, and put on the ridiculous accents of the diplomats and dignitaries that were no doubt flocking to their seats as they spoke. “May I escort you to your coronation, my Queen?”

Anna’s laugh was full and warmed his heart as she took the arm he had offered to her. “I’m not your queen for another hour,” she stated, rolling her eyes affectionately. “But nonetheless, I accept, sir.”

[rinusagitora]

You’re in all my dreams.

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Karin Kurosaki, Toushirou Hitsugaya, Momo Hinamori, OC- Mae Izumi

Pairings: HitsuKarin

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Shinigami!Karin AU. For HitsuKarin Week 2021. WARNINGS- mentions of suicide, dysfunctional families; Karin graduates Shin'ou and shares her dreams with Toushirou.

AO3

For the last six years, Karin dreamed of the day she’d graduating from cadet to officer and don the shihakusho like everyone she ever admired.

It was an anxious future filled with wonder and promise she never knew back in the World of the Living. Going from cadet to captain of a small force was going to be quite the culture shock, perhaps even more than the cold water of the river where she drowned. But she made it, and it made her much more confident in her ability. Officers were chosen from a pool of graduates and turnover was infrequent since few officers passed away in peacetime. It made competition fierce and even rarer that a graduate obtained a seated position out of the gate.

She was equal parts nervous and excited. For the time being, all Karin wanted to do was enjoy the graduation bonfire.

Mae toppled onto the log, sloshing rice wine onto Karin’s lap. She laughed. “I’m sorry! I’m sooo hammered.”

“No worries. I think I’ve puked on you more times than you’ve spilled on me.”

“Indeed, we swapped roles tonight.” Mae tapped Karin’s nose. “Tonight, of all nights, you choose to be reserved. Why?”

Karin hummed and swirled beer. “I’m nervous, I think.”

“It’s a big change.” Mae looked over the crowd. “Where are Hinamori-fukutaichou and Hitsugaya-taichou? I expected them, of all people, to be here.”

Karin’s reikaku grazed the crowd. Momo was there, just chaperoning. Keeping firelight between bodies like a puritan. Perhaps rightfully so. They were the new faces of the Seireitei. It was better not to romp in the woods right over poison ivy before recruitment day. Pussy itch was a different kind of awful. The kind of awful where Karin, who was once impaled, ended up curling up on the floor crying while Izuru healed her crotch and Shuuhei and Renji laughed in the next room.

The crowd parted for Momo like river water around stones. She stopped before Karin, and Karin smiled at her mentor. “Hi, Momo-senpai.”

Mae nodded. "Hinamori-sama."

"Izumi-chan, I hope you're enjoying the festivities."

"Oddly enough. It's strange letting loose… but I see where Karin-chan's alcoholism comes from. Dancing while intoxicated is liberating."

"Indeed." Nonetheless, Momo cocked her head and curiously looked over Karin. Karin knew the jig was up from there. She and Ryuuji were normally in the center of the action, and Karin hadn't so much as howled or toasted once that evening.

“Leave us, Izumi-chan.”

Mae managed to right herself and bowed to excuse herself. Gracefully, Momo took a seat beside Karin as she cursed internally. She didn't want to talk about it, but Momo always dragged out her bad feelings and laid them in the open.

“It’s odd you’re not out enjoying the festivities. This is your… thing.”

“It’s just really hitting me that I’m going to be a shinigami,” Karin told Momo. “I’ve been working toward this goal for six years. What do I do from here?”

Momo laughed. “Six years is a blink of an eye for the majority of us.” She held Karin’s shoulders. “There will be plenty to do, Karin-chan.”

“I can’t believe we’re all in a squad just after graduation, though.”

“Who? Izumi and Kawashima?” Karin hummed affirmatively in response to Momo, who then grinned. “Believe it or not, Iba-taichou wanted Watanabe. I think Watanabe is in for a reality check.”

“You are far too happy over that.” Karin couldn’t help but share Momo’s thrill, however. Chousuke Watanabe was a thorn in her side for six years, being her friend Ryuuji’s tormentor. Tetsuzaemon would straighten him out. The very picture of manhood and chivalry according to Momo. It was far too rewarding imagining Chousuke getting reamed by a six-foot wall of meat and battle scars.

"Bias is something I never shied away from. It's been a driving force in my life, for better or worse." Momo kissed Karin's forehead. "For best, in your case. You've been family since the moment I laid eyes on you, Karin-chan. My own in many ways. Every obstacle you've faced, you've overcome, and are better for it. I am so proud of how far you've come, and I'm so glad to have played a part in it."

Karin smiled bashfully. At least she had Momo.

Momo lovingly jostled Karin. There it was. Momo buttered up Karin just enough and was about to get her to bust open a can of worms. "What's on your mind?"

"I just… I thought Toushirou would be here. I haven't seen him all day today."

"I'm not supposed to tell you, but," Momo whispered, grinning, "he's preparing something special. Be patient."

Her heart pattered. "Oh." Of course he was. She was a little ashamed that hadn't occurred to her earlier as if they hadn't developed years of trust and affection, or at least a solid friendship. Nonetheless, Momo stroked Karin's hair, reminding her she was only human, that something so little wouldn't ruin everything.

Speaking of… Karin picked up on a familiar, icy reiatsu approaching. It was Toushirou, still in uniform. She smiled and Momo tapped her on her nose.

"See?"

"Not yet, but he's coming." Momo only rolled her eyes in response to Karin's lame joke.

"I'll leave you now. Enjoy your night, Karin-chan."

"Thanks, Senpai. I love you."

"And I love you."

Toushirou was still in uniform with his hands tucked into his sleeves. As he passed, Karin's fellow cadets parted and bowed to him. He ignored the attention, however, instead sporting a smile as he found Karin on her log.

He'd undergone hormone therapy in recent years to trigger a growth spurt. And he'd grown up to be a handsome young man, with looks rivaling stars in the World of the Living with access to renowned surgeons.

"I hope you've been enjoying yourself," he said. He took a seat next to her. He smelled like flowers. "I never attended these things, truthfully."

"Did you want to try dancing?" Karin asked.

"Well… I don't know," he said. Toushirou pulled a modest bouquet of daffodils from his sleeve, tied off with a turquoise ribbon. "It's not a big gift, I know, but I hope it reminds you that you're always welcome in juubantai."

Gingerly, Karin took his bouquet and smelled them. They smelled like spring. "I love them," she said. "Thank you."

She pressed a kiss against Toushirou's cheek, and he happily hummed. "I'm glad you like them. It's hard buying gifts for you."

"As if."

"It's true," he replied. "All Matsumoto wants is a day off, Hinamori loves spices and tobacco, and the boys are happy with some sake. You, on the other hand, easily get your hands on sake and tobacco, and hate downtime." Toushirou crossed his legs. "I should've consulted my sister."

Karin frowned. "But I like them…"

"The flowers? But they're such a lazy gift," he scoffed.

"I like everything you give me." She smiled. "Really, thank you. I love them."

He laughed bashfully. "Well, I'm glad."

Together they sat amid drums and singing and firelight, swaying with it, until Toushirou asked, "I don't want to take you from your friends, but I’m not enjoying myself here. Do you mind going elsewhere?"

"We can leave," Karin said. "Where do you want to go?"

"Someplace quiet where we can see the stars."

Her cheeks were warm at the idea. How romantic.

Karin bashfully followed behind Toushirou, holding his hand as he guided her away from the bonfire. When it was dark, he illuminated the way with kidou, assured in every step. A gorgeous man. He'd grown into his looks. His cheekbones were high, his shoulders broad. She could swoon until early morning over his handsome shape.

Up a hill, through a grove, and up a steep path, until they reached the peak of a sheer cliff. The stars above looked like a river of life. They didn't twinkle but were a steady pathway carved in the sky. Karin fell onto the grass and marveled. "Wow. When did you find this, Toushirou?"

"Not long ago. I wouldn't keep this from you  without a good reason." He smiled at her. Sitting, he said, "Do you like it?"

"Yes!" Karin nigh tackled Toushirou and kissed his cheek. "It's beautiful."

"I should've brought wine."

"This is perfect." Karin laid her head on Toushirou's shoulder. Together they stared into the stars. She searched for constellations but found none she recognized. "Do you think the World of the Living and the Soul Society have different stars?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. No one spends time looking up in the Soul Society. Those who do, don't seem to have the technology contributing to significant findings," Toushirou replied. "I'm not much of an astronomer either."

"You're a man of the law."

He laughed bashfully. "Aye."

Karin drew pictures in the stars herself. Birds, men, kitchenware, like she remembered from her human life not so long ago. Six years was nothing compared to how long her peers lived, was it? Not Momo, who was approaching a century and a half. Not even Toushirou, well into his seventies by that point. But Karin couldn’t remember the names of the stars or where to find them in the sky. How much longer did she have until she overwrote their patterns with other things? How much longer until her sad mortal history was forgotten in a sea of everything else?

There weren’t immediate answers to her questions, but Karin was fine with that. She said, "I remember hoping a rope would drop from the sky and drag me by the neck. Put me out of my misery."

"Understandable," Toushirou replied.

"I'm so much happier here. It's not always easy, but..."

"Slow and steady?"

"Yeah. Slow and steady wins the race. And I'm glad to be with you for it."

"So," Toushirou said, "no more sky-ropes to hang you until you're dead?"

She giggled. "Not anymore. I don't fancy myself a pirate, anyway."

He hummed. "I had a dream some time ago. Similar to yours... although I remember it being less grizzly," Toushirou confessed. She pulled her gaze from the starlight and saw him cloaked in darkness. Still, his eyes shined with wonder. Adoration. "A dream that assured me you're the love of my life."

"Go on," she said.

"I was being puppeteered by the sky. Dragged around day in and day out. And I saw the strings on you, into the sky as far as my eyes could see. And yet despite time, and fate, and all the horridness that plagued life for some time, we fought to be together." He clasped her hand. "Our strings became tangled and pink like cherry blossoms in spring. Like sunset. And... and I never want those strings freed." His blue-green eyes met hers. They made her melt like her body was hot wax in a leather bag. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Karin."

It felt like forever before she caught her breath. She asked, "Are you proposing?"

"If that's all it takes to spend the rest of my life by your side, and you at my side, I'll fetch a ring now. Propose properly in front of as many people as you like.”

Karin giggled. Picturing Toushirou hopping onto a bar counter, sake raised high, and screaming how deeply he was in love with Karin to their loved ones and peers, was quite a sight to behold! Yet, as anxious as he was to do so, she replied with, "Not at all. But let's make plans down the road. When I'm settled in."

"Of course." Toushirou sighed happily. They kissed. "I'm so in love with you, Karin."

"And I love you."

"I could stay here forever."

Karin hummed. “We have forever to do that…”

He turned to meet her gaze. “But?”

“I want to do more.” She sat up. “We work because we’re more than just lovers. We’re friends, confidants, partners. Warriors and artists and scholars.”

“Of course,” he agreed, propping himself on his palm.

“I want to be married, and I want forever with you, as much as I want-”

Toushirou said, completing Karin’s statement, “More.” He held her hand then. “It’s one of the reasons I love you. My recruitment was necessary. Yours is nothing but-”

“Desire.” She gazed into the stars, searching for divination in the blanket covering a slowly rotating plane.

“Then what more do you want?”

“To give justice and safety to those who have been and yet to be hurt. No one should suffer as I, and we have. I want to tear down the caste system here. Hold nobility responsible for their actions and give power back to the people, and eradicate the symbols of fascism and cruelty. I want to reconnect families. To make the Rukongai safe, so no one’s starving or resorting to crime to survive. And…” Karin turned to Toushirou, her breath stilling as she saw his eyes swimming with adoration. “And I want to mold the next generation to dream as I now dream, and to better the world. And I want to do all of it with you beside me, Toushirou. As equals.”

Toushirou cupped her cheek. He kissed her, and she held his sleeve. “Let’s do it. Together,” he said. Their foreheads touched. “Together always.”