#md happy ending au

[hoshinorail]

Hmm, so I’m just thinking about an AU where Cyn and Tessa come back but as good guys. Like, Cyn’s ultimately the one who defeats the ultimate solver and saves the universe, and then she restores Tessa’s voice, personality, memories, and self to the “flesha” body. I might draw some concept art for this au.

Let’s call it… the “Happy Ending” au.

[lunaireextra]

AHHHHH- Oh kamo' is kamo'oalewa they are the personification? Droneification? Of earths quasi moon

[premamelody]

wait dang it i made J a memorial member bc i assumed she'd jump to protag side

a few things

one i don't have to draw N in a dress

but two

I WAS ALMOST ON IT IN THE HAPPY FUTURE AU

SHES FLIPPED THE SCRIPT PRETTY MUCH AND I LIKE IT. the fact that the og wasn't like gotten rid of completely is funny to me but also different

i might legit be able to work the ending into the au. i might like be able to genuinely. like. this might still work.

but unfortunately now i gotta rename it to the "Bad Future" AU simply bc the og solver comes back in control of its own body again. funny how this flipped everything around

also also ummm. rip Cyn? ig. from the way it ends, idk why. not a Season 2 but just. kinda like maybe other media to add on it. idk. maybe it was left that way for theorizing purposes and stuff. either way the ending is good.

im shaking

give me a few minutes and this will wear off bc idk why but i just didnt feel some moments. and before you say it no its not the nuzi bonk that is funny ah to me. ill be able to saw it when the excitement wears off

[bakugoushotwife]

born sinner (part one)

pairing: crime boss!suguru geto x fem!surgeon!reader series content: blood, gore, realistic descriptions of surgery but like as accurate as someone with access to google has, angst, slow-burn, eventual smut, anxiety as a heavy theme, no curses!au, violence, guns, gang mentions and typical violence, religious imagery, etc. words: 8.5k a/n: omg omg happy new year! the gojo writer takes on suguru geto!! he's so challenging for me in the best of ways and i hope that his characterization is at least tolerable LMFAO!! i got this amazing idea from a gorgeously detailed outline from @antizenin who trusted me to bring her outline to life. i hope you love it!! part two //

the lights are entirely too bright in the meeting hall. it’s nothing compared to the lights in the OR that illuminate the vessels of a heart as you slice into it—finding the clot that caused the fourty-one year old mother of two to collapse in the middle of making breakfast. you saved her life, you save lives. you’re a cardiothoracic surgeon–and a top one at that, though you spent your residency flirting with general and neurosurgery, you ultimately landed on the heart of it all–literally. it was riveting work. it was satisfying work. you got to play god, holding the lives of everyone that came through the hospital doors in your hands. you got to be the one to repair the tear in their aorta, the one to physically pump their heart with your own grip. it was thrilling. until it wasn’t. until you couldn’t stop the bleeding or make the heart beat again. until being god of the emergency room meant sending some people to the afterlife, and realizing that you are no god. you’re just a woman with a degree and a scalpel and a crippling fear that you don’t know what you’re really doing at all.

that’s what got you here. the clock in front of you is just about the only thing to look at in this section of the hospital. the board meets here—the people that convene to discuss fates. it’s almost comically just that the long hallway before the meeting room was barren and hopeless–only the clock’s hands to tick loudly by in mock of you. 7:55 am. just five more minutes until you went from the god above it all to a simple beggar praying to be spared. you were no different from those you operated on. you’re suddenly very aware of how scratchy and hard your chair is, making you adjust and readjust to try to find some semblance of comfort in the last five minutes before judgment day. as a surgeon, you know just how out of whack your vitals are. as someone with a diazepam prescription, you know exactly what’s causing it, regardless of the MD at the end of your last name. shit, you forgot to take your pills again this morning—

there’s a faint sound of heels clicking against the cold tile floor in conjunction with the loud clunk, clunk, ding dong ding! of the clock that signals the top of the hour. it’s time. the secretary calls your name as if you’re not the only person waiting out here, and you nod without meeting her eyes. you know without lifting your gaze that hers is judgmental–like everyone’s lately. 

the problem with being god is that you can’t make mistakes without feeling the wrath of the people that once loved you and championed your name.

millions of thoughts race inside your head simultaneously: if you can’t handle the hardening stare of a measly secretary, how on earth would you be able to function under the eyes of the council, the real gods amongst men. they have the authority to revoke your license if you don’t figure out how to answer to them. the one case, the one incident, the one person’s life that ended because of your inability to handle such racing thoughts drives you to clutch at your chest now as you rise from your chair, back aching. 

“right this way.” she says without another glance, and you’re thankful for that reprieve. she turns, loud heels click clacking their way back down the hall at the same pace of your hammering heart. you love being a surgeon. you can’t lose that. you have to fight for it. saving lives is important to you! you just have to convey this. it’s not hard. swallow your fear and finally fight for something you want, put one foot in front of the other, you tell yourself. breathe in and breathe out—you have to get your sinus rhythm back to normal if you have any hope of getting through this. but it’s so hard when all your senses lie to you like this, the clock’s ticks still rattling across your brain—the long and dark hallway only stretching to be longer and darker before you. you know it’s impossible–just your mind playing tricks. or, more aptly, part of you knows that. but the other part starts to break out in a cold sweat once you finally approach the door. on the other side of the heavy oak were the group of people who would decide what your life was worth: do you get to stay a god amongst men, or will you be cast out like the devil himself? 

you can hear the different voices speaking in low whispers before the secretary has even pushed into the room. you know they must be speaking about you from the way their eyes dart all over your timid form in front of them as they shuffle their papers—reports of every mistake and triumph you’ve ever had laid out in front of them, reducing you to a datapoint. it’s a medical license hearing, but you feel like a freshly hit opossum standing before the vultures just waiting to pick your bones clean. maybe being roadkill was more freeing than this. 

this room is much darker than the lobby you waited in, dimly lit by reading lamps positioned to the right of each panelist–five total. three men and two women would decide if your mistake was enough to ruin your career. their desk towered above you, so much so you had to tilt your chin back to be able to take in their disgruntled, disappointed, and disapproving stares. your saliva feels like liquid cement when you go to swallow it down—though it tastes like bile.  

“good morning doctor.” the man on the furthest right says. he has the kindest eyes of them all, though your brain catches his deception. he’s just acting. the other panelists give you tight lipped smiles of greeting and head nods of acknowledgement. you clear your throat a little and give them a bow. 

“good morning, board of internal medicine. i’ve…prepared a statement?” you clench your jaw at the shakiness you can hear in your voice. it’s the older of the two women that nod at you this time. 

“you may present it.” she says, a drawn-on eyebrow raised expectantly. you swallow down that bile-cement flavored spit again, training your eyes on a hairline crack in the tile under your toe. it’s fitting. as time passes, this crack will widen and cause that tile to erode and crumble away. this meeting could be the crack in your foundation. the decision made here today could be the first domino of events to ruin the picture perfect life you’ve carefully put into place. 

“..hiroshi nakamura entered the emergency room on november twenty-third at 4:57 pm. he was suffering from an aortic aneurysm. as many of you are former surgeons yourselves, i know you’re familiar with the diagnosis. many of these go unnoticed. symptomatic pain is brushed off, and many times it’s too late to save them, the silent killer.” you shift your weight, doing your best to maintain eye contact despite the haunting memory. “nakamura-san was a patient of mine previously. he was diagnosed with arteriosclerosis three years prior, the exact date escapes me. it was in the summertime. july maybe. later that day i performed an endarterectomy to reduce the atheromatous plaque in his carotid artery. we kept him for the next three days for observation, his vitals improved and he was discharged with instructions to receive regular checkups. when he was brought back in…i knew immediately that the buildup must have returned, making it harder for blood to travel until it turned into a clot. when i opened him up, his pressure started dropping. he had an aortic dissection, which i’ve run into many times. but the size of nakamura-san’s was significant. i hesitated, deciding between a graft or a stent for treatment. i took too long to choose, and nakamura-san…bled out on the operating table.” you grimace, looking down at that cracked tile again. the line was shaped like a lightning bolt, its jagged curve leading straight under your shoe. you can feel your chest tighten, so you close your eyes and try to push back against the wave of emotion sitting in your throat. “i had to tell nakamura-san’s family what happened. his wife of forty years, his thirty-four year old son, thirty year old daughter, and twenty-eight year old son as well as his young grandchildren. i’ll never forget what my mistake has done to their lives, and i believe it is punishment enough.” 

you step back once you’ve finished speaking, heart still hammering away in your chest. the members of the board nod, seemingly unaffected by your words. the man in the middle of the massive mahogany table picks up his stack of papers, licking his forefinger before flipping through them. “how long have you been prescribed diazepam, doctor?” 

your blood stills. your anxiety was clearly well documented, and you knew it would be on their list of questions. “since i was a teenager, sixteen i believe.” 

he hums, eyes focused on the paper before him. “and how would you say it helps you manage your generalized anxiety disorder?” 

you would do anything for that ticking clock right about now, for this room is so quiet you swore they could hear your thoughts. “it helps considerably. i’ve stayed on it for over ten years now.”

“your prescription history is spotty. were you trying alternative therapies?” the younger woman asks, manicured red nails clutching your entire life between them via vulturous paper reports. 

you open your mouth to answer–no, argue–but realize that won’t help you anymore than the truth will. “no. i…had not.” 

she raises her brow just like the other woman did, except her eyebrow was real and also well taken care of. “so what happened? it seems like you’ve forgotten to pick up your medicine three times this year—one of which was during nakamura-san’s surgery?” you are a cardiothoracic surgeon, one that was considered proficient enough to pick her specialty. you are no fool. you can see the trap she’s laid before you even unmedicated. 

this is the end. all because of your busy schedule and long hours at the hospital. sometimes you missed pharmacy hours, other times you just forgot about it altogether, mind racing with diagnoses and cases that wait for you the next day. but that won’t matter now, you can feel it before you even answer. they knew what they were going to do before you ever walked in this room. “my business hours are usually reserved for saving lives at this hospital. sometimes i’m not able to make it to pickup.” 

“how long until your death toll matches that of your successes, doctor?” the final man at the left asks, punctuating their line of questioning. he shuffles the edges of his papers against the flat top he sits behind. “i think our decision has been reached. you’re no longer licensed to operate in this hospital or any other, effective immediately. take your medicine.” 

he has his doubts, but he supposes that is his nature. it feels strange to organize a meeting between two warring sides, hoping for a somewhat amicable and fortuitous outcome. hope is a foreign concept in this world, in suguru geto’s reality. he runs the west side of tokyo—keeping businesses running and funding local projects as well as controlling the streets with his biggest means of profit—guns for hire. he was a local historic monument. a ghost–everyone knew of him but pretended not to. everyone from bar owners to bakeries, lawyers and school teachers alike all under his influence, his pulse on the town. that’s how he knew the rival eastside head planned to make a move on his territory, and he’s been able to orchestrate a negotiation between them based on the opinion of his mentor and right hand man. 

traditionally, suguru would eliminate his problem at the source. there’s no need to play politics when you make your own rules. but he trusts wholly in his sacred few, the ones who have been with him since the beginning of his reign, and even before then. suguru’s best friend, satoru gojo was his best assassin and loudest mouth. choso kamo was a younger pup, but loyal and hardworking—very protective. and then there was toji fushiguro, the most valued of all. he’s shown suguru the ropes of this industry while still respecting and protecting him. geto entrusts his life to toji. if the man believes a meeting would be wise, then they’ll have the meeting. 

besides, there was no arguing with his logic. if they were able to pull this off, then his men will have free reign in the east, able to expand their territory into shinjuku, and have a working alliance with their only competition. so why was he having second thoughts? he blames satoru and his creepy blue eyes staring at him in the mirror he’s checking himself over in. 

“do you not trust me?” he asks the other man, tugging the top half of his too-long black hair into a neat knot. it reveals the long dragon tattoo that creeps up his neck, eyes glowing with anger at whoever looked. his own golden eyes flicker with unease as they survey the only person in the room. suguru hated how opinionated satoru could be at times, and valued it in others. though he usually didn’t know which way he felt until after the fact. 

the arctic-haired boy scoffed, kicking himself into stride from his previous position leaning against the wall. “oh i trust you. i just think it’s weird. i mean–toji’s so gung-ho, let’s slaughter ‘em all, and now we’re supposed to believe he’s become a diplomat?”

“i didn’t know you knew what diplomat meant.” suguru comments drily, sidestepping his friend’s critique of their teacher.

satoru shoves his round sunglasses back up his nose to conceal his eye roll. suguru was technically his boss—though he could get away with more than most. “hey, you asked. i just…have a bad feeling about this.” he shrugs–a knock at geto’s door causing both men to go on high alert immediately. satoru reaches for his weapon, always expecting an ambush. such is this way of life. 

“geto–sama, the car is ready.” the driver says from the other side of the wood, and satoru relaxes at the realization that it was just ijichi–a man so weak and cowardly that an ambush at his hands would be impossible. suguru releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding onto. he fastens the final button on his shirt, glancing over himself in the mirror once again. he wanted to appear polished and professional in his all black attire—and it worked. he seemed larger than life and as intimidating as ever. 

“perfect. i should get going.” he nods to his best friend–who, due to his abrasive and blunt nature, will not be attending this meeting. suguru adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, strapping his guns to his torso and giving satoru a tight lipped smile. the latter gets the door for him, mockingly saluting. 

“i’ll hold down the fort until you get back, boss!” he chirps, nodding to ijichi before making his way back to the data room. 

toji meets them in the car. it’s a bulletproof black bronco, a fitting vehicle to cart around a high-profile crime boss. suguru’s confidence is bolstered at the sight of his most trusted companion, and he genuinely smiles as he ducks into the backseat with him. 

“hey kid, big day.” the older man says gruffly, his gravelly voice making it sound like he were sixty years his senior instead of a mere fifteen. suguru was no child, and didn’t appear to be one either. the twenty-eight year old man towered over six feet, thick with muscle and riddled with scars of experience, but to toji—suguru was a helpless kitten. 

suguru hums, eyes already scanning for potential danger as the car rolls out of the garage. “big day indeed. you’ve spoken to him already this morning?”

toji claps his broad hand down on suguru’s even broader shoulder, chuckling. “we wouldn’t be headin’ out if i hadn’t. sukuna’s ready for us.” he assures, noting how strong and steady suguru looked. toji was proud, geto has grown quite bit from the scrappy little boy he once was. if he was nervous, he was keeping that close to his chest. 

“good. i think he’ll find my proposal beneficial for us both.” he nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. sukuna’s crew mostly pushed petty crime and even pettier drugs—suguru’s bunch could elevate their product and offer more riches for the notoriously greedy ‘cursed king’ ryomen sukuna. 

toji snorts a little, amused by his arrogance. “let’s hope so.” he nods, checking the rearview and windows before they fall into silence. 

the ride is smooth due to the expensive tires and ijichi’s careful nature, leaving geto plenty of peace and quiet to brainstorm all of the ways this could go down. he’s doing a genuine good for japan–sure, he has to break a few laws to do it, but the people of tokyo—well, his half anyway—are prospering. he hopes that even the arrogant man that ryomen is can see what banding together would do for them both. then, it could be just a matter of time before he can branch out into the rest of japan. 

there’s that word again. hope. he feels silly each time he catches himself using it. it’s akin to faith to him. something ideal in entirety, hardly true to the touch. he only believes in what he can see–things like optimism and god are lost on him, they are only fantasies. 

“ijichi! watch the right side—” toji commands gruffly, sitting up straighter in his seat to get a better look. suguru is grounded with a shot of adrenaline, leaning over to peer at the black suv hot on their tails. this highway is busy—civilians in their own cars without a clue in the world littered all over the roads at various speeds. it could be nothing–except geto knows better than to hope that the tinted windows on the car were meant to block out the sun instead of concealing identities. the large suv switches into the left lane, speeding up to catch them. “idiot! step on it!” he calls, and suguru draws one of his guns to be prepared ahead of time, a lesson he learned from the man sitting to his right. 

“is it one of sukuna’s?” he asks aloud, cocking his .45 as the first shots ring out from the vehicle beside them. they bounce right off his armored car, but one knicks the tire. geto curses under his breath, cracking the window enough to pop off a few returning shots of his own. the cadillac is impenetrable too–though he had hoped to flatten one of their tires in return or even get one under the hood. 

ijichi starts to lose control on the vehicle as the tire blows—just the metal rim scraping against the concrete with a deafening hiss. the bronco starts to fishtail, the car beside them only furthering the inevitable by nudging the rear quarter panel into the median ahead. “i’m losing it! we’re gonna flip!” ijichi cries out in panic, prompting suguru’s eyes to widen. 

there’s a loud crunch of metal on concrete before they’re airborne. geto feels a sense of finality wash over him as they turn, his seatbelt the only thing keeping him from breaking his neck. there’s another gross sounding scrape of the driver’s side scraping on the road briefly before they rotate again—heartbeat erratic. this is it. all of his hard work would end in a fiery car accident. he can’t even feel it as his head bounces off the window, only thinking about how satoru was right. he should have appreciated his friend more—he’s probably the only person who will mourn him when he’s gone. the roof caves in when they fall onto it this time, shrapnel scratching his face and making him realize they had stopped. they’re on their back–he’s hanging upside down, but he’s alive. he can smell oil and gas and the inevitable smell of fire, so his numb fingers fumble for the seatbelt’s release button. the car alarms are going off—and he knows if he doesn’t get out soon, the relief of being alive won’t even have time to sink in before it’s ripped away again. he looks around the car—toji’s door ripped off in the accident and his body nowhere to be seen. 

“goddammit–” he growls, clicking the button on his seatbelt over and over, unable to get free. there’s a million alarms going off—the car’s sensors, the airbags, the bitter hum of gunshots ringing in his ears still, maybe even faint police sirens heading this way. none as loud as the one in his head telling him that he had to get out soon–fighting until the button finally releases him and he lands with a thud on the sunroof portion of the now mangled bronco. he crawls toward the only exit, toji’s exit, grimacing at the sickening sound of crunching glass digging into his side as he drags himself through it. he thought dying would be more peaceful—that he would be ready for it, even if he hadn’t finished his work yet. in this business, there is no tomorrow, yet he found himself fighting for one. this wouldn’t be the end of him, some sort of voice in the back of his head told him so. it wasn’t his own, in fact he didn’t recognize it—but it made him take the pain and push forward, out of the car and onto the street beside. 

the sunset would be prettier under better circumstances, but he’s grateful to see it irregardless. his head hurts, and he can’t look around as fast as he wants to without getting dizzy, that ringing deafening his senses. he sees the cadillac–still on the scene– with a group of men huddled outside of it talking. 

he sputters out a cough, clearing his lungs of some of the debris he’s inhaled. it catches their attention—and all geto can process is a pair of dark boots stomping over rubber scraps and glass shards until they’re inches from his face and the legs attached are squatting down to get a better look at him. 

“eh, shoulda known you’d survive it if i did.” he grumbles, a voice so unmistakable suguru’s blood stills in his veins. the sole of the man’s boot shoves into suguru’s shoulder, kicking him to his back. “you trust too much kid. why would sukuna negotiate when he could just take from you instead? shame. you coulda been great.” he says, fumbling behind his back for a 9mm piece, the sobering click of the safety and familiar cock of the gun clearing out all the other noises. geto’s too devastated to speak—though he knows there’s nothing he could say. he lived through the accident just to die with the truth: his mentor betrayed him. 

bang!

getting shot doesn’t feel like you think it does. it’s white hot and instant, a blistering intensity that tells you you're dying. suguru’s hand flies to cover the damage to his chest, eyes wide in disbelief still. he must have already died and gone to hell. he can’t hear anything now but the ringing of the gun and toji’s sigh. 

“meh–just to be sure.” toji yawns, scratching his head with the barrel before turning it back to suguru’s chest. 

bang!

it hurts to breathe, but he has to gasp for air either way—bleeding out on the pavement below. the ringing in his ears is replaced by tires spinning out—signifying that the rival crew had left before the cops could arrive. suguru holds his crimson soaked hand up above his face, clenching his jaw. the pain was hitting him in waves, the clawing feeling of glass embedded in his skin mixed with the burn of being shot, the inability to take a deep breath and his growing weakness, he really was dying this time. 

no. 

that voice again. he’s annoyed by it, but intrigued. why? why not give up? he asks himself, coughing despite the excruciating pain it puts him in and the wetness that seeps out of his mouth—something even he knows is blood. 

there’s so much life to live. fight. revenge, love. there’s more for you. 

he stares up at the pale outline of the moon hanging in the sky, growing brighter as the sky darkened. revenge. that was something he’d like to see. he didn’t know about the rest of it–but was confused by this…guardian angel of his. is this god? he was a born sinner—far away from anything holy. this must be an imagination of his—yet it was motivating enough to get him to move again. they wrecked just outside of harajuku. he knew of a dive bar under his business portfolio that he could try to get to–he could hang on until satoru found him and got him to the hospital, though that was a whole new set of problems. he had to get moving, the ringing of sirens getting closer by the second. 

his vision is blackening and he doesn’t even know how close he is to the bar. his breathing is ragged, everything screaming and aching, body telling him to give up but that voice urging him to keep going. night has settled in fully by now, and he’s thankful for that cover. this area of town is avoided by anyone with good intentions, hence its emptiness at this hour. it couldn’t be too late, 8 pm at the latest, but the only traffic moving through this district are giggly college students and no good drug pushers meeting up with customers in the dark. but it’s reassuring to him, it means he’s getting closer. that’s when the reminiscing hits him. he’s able to see some bright flashing lights—a telltale sign that the bar was just ahead. the shelter of the alleyway gives him some reprieve. maybe if he stops just stopped for a second to catch his breath he’d be able to get to his feet and walk inside, or just getting a phone call in would be enough to save him. he thinks about satoru, how he’d come running as soon as he picked up the phone all while cursing him out for not listening to his warnings sooner. he feels embarrassed that the only person he has to think about is his sarcastic best friend, left to wonder if things would be better or worse if he had a family to think about instead. the last thing he thinks about is that mysterious voice calling out to him to stay awake—but his body is done fighting. all is black. 

what better way to end the worst day of your life than getting shitty at the shittiest bar in town? there were probably lots of better options, like conserving your money since you didn’t know where your next source of income would stream from—but that was tomorrow’s problem. tonight’s problem was drinking your sorrows away next to the attractive man buying all your drinks. he was tall and his hair was spiky to look at but you knew it would be soft to the touch–or maybe that’s the vodka talking. his smile was more akin to a smirk rather than a genuine grin. he was trouble. but trouble was buying, so you’d keep batting you lashes and whining about your sorrows so the shots kept coming. the top-shelf vodka the man offers each time is working to its desired effect, numbing the ache in your heart and the bickering thoughts in your brain. it almost cloaks the mildew scent in the air—rose-colored glasses making the nasty blue carpet and hideous wood paneled walls of the bar look like a dream come true. you finally feel light. you almost forget about the man eyeing you like a predator in wait to your left, consciousness floating high in the clouds. 

you used to hate drinking. as a surgeon, you need a clear mind at all times. who knew when you’d be called in for an emergency case. well, needed. plus, you’ve always been an angry drunk, overly emotional and yelling constantly. it wasn’t a pleasant sight. not to mention the hangovers, ugh—your long-term psyche had always beaten out the short-term pleasure, but tonight you owed it to yourself to feel as bas as possible tomorrow. that’s why the clouds clear—your light-hearted joy short-lived as the bartender slides you another shot before muttering. 

“that’s your last one, doctor.” he tilts his head down, used to serving your fellow surgeon friends when you did have a well-timed night off, though he’s never seen you drunk as the most responsible member of your group, you were always designated driver. not anymore, you’d be lucky to get a text back from any of them now that you were disbarred. maybe that’s what actually makes you mad instead of being cut off. it’s the realization of all the things you’ve really lost–-including the right to drown your sorrows out with a swollen liver. 

“what the fuck?? and i know ya heard me talkin’...not a doctor anymore!! so let me have my vodka, i deserve it!” you whine, stretching your upper body over the scratched and chipped wooden bar keeping you from jumping across at his dumb stupid fat neck—

“no can do, miss. you’re over served as is, ‘s my job on the line.” he shakes his head, eyeing the man next to you to get you under control, assuming he knew you better than a few hours of tipsy talking. you scoff at his insinuations–both that you’re too drunk to handle yourself and that this wallet has any sway over your motor-mouth. 

“don’t look at him—fucking look at me! i’ll kick your goddamn ass, you know that?” you’re fuming. this is the proverbial straw that broke the hypothetical camel’s back. after the day you’ve had, you’re surprised it took this much to get you this rowdy. how much was one person meant to take anyways? venting out your anger would help you plenty, you think to yourself as you lift your knee up, prepared to crawl over that wooden plank saving that man’s life. 

“security!! come get ‘er. she’s wasted.” he scoffs, taking your shot away and making your blood boil even more. “they’ll get an uber for ya. take it easy, doc.” he shakes his head, making you feel remarkably judged all of a sudden, every eye in the place was on you as a guard even bigger than the man next to you drags you off the bar as carefully as he can. you don’t make it easy, kicking and screaming out despite the burning sensation in your cheeks.

“you’re scared of a girl? that’s fucking embarrassing!” you bellow to cloak your own, getting tossed on your feet gently— outside of the dingy building. 

“come on, little lady. let’s get you a ride home.” the security guard says, another one of them making their way outside as some sort of backup–like you were some genuine threat. you scoff, folding your arms. 

“fuck off—don’t need your shitty help, i’ll get home on my own!” you kick his shin, throwing your hair over your shoulder before marching off into the dead of night. 

in one of the worst parts of town. 

the cold shocks you awake, the fear putting you on edge and pushing back the drunkenness that fought so hard to claim you. every rustle of the bushes, each twig snapping has your head on a swivel. you just need to make it to your car, though it was daytime when you foolishly parked it a few doors down to avoid the traffic of drunk people leaving later in the evening. you’ve already made half the distance, the connecting alleyway just up ahead. 

you don’t make it two hundred feet before everything hits you again—and you’re bawling at your own stupidity. you should have made time to pick up your pills. you wouldn’t have to be worried about being kidnapped or murdered in the middle of the night if you had just taken your medicine. your life if over—and you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself. you’re a mess. you’re nearly gasping for breath already—the dark alley mocks you with long shadows reflecting from the moon and stray cats that hop out of the dumpster just to make you fear the worst. you wipe at your cheeks, desperately sniffling to try to regain your senses, eyes aching from the downpour. you’re constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure you’re not being followed, entirely too focused on what’s behind you to notice the log in front of you—you’re sent flying over it and towards the pavement. luckily you take the impact on your shoulder, nothing more than a shocked, “ow–” leaving your lips before you realize you’re not hurt at all thanks to your coat absorbing the brunt of it.

it’s just another strike of your famous luck then, something annoying enough to inconvenience you on a day chock full of them, but not enough to take you down. you push to your hands and knees, looking back towards the offending log—only to realize it’s breathing and has long dark hair strewn about its head. you gasp–the fog muddying up your senses clearing instantly at the realization that this was no log, but some severely injured man! you can hear his struggling breaths, springing into action immediately. it’s nearly second nature to you as you push his hair out of his face and away from his neck. it’s much too dark for you to make out specifics–but his chin shines with something you can only imagine is blood, the same wet liquid pooling in front of his torso, the man laying on his side in an almost fetal position.  

“sir–can you hear me?” you try, placing your fingers where his heartbeat should be. it’s weak and much too slow, but it’s there. you can save him. “sir what happened to you? what’s your name?” you ask loudly, trying to get him to wake up. you groan when he doesn’t respond, blindly fumbling around for the wounds. your heart is racing, any slowness from the alcohol was killed by the adrenaline consuming you now. you gasp out again when you feel glass shards and bullet holes, a good fifteen minutes away from home even if you step on it. you’re not sure if this man has fifteen minutes left in him—the reasonable part of your brain telling you to call the emergency line to get him helped. though, they’d take just as long to show up despite how serious his wounds are. “you’re gonna have to help me a little, big guy.” you groan even louder, trying to put him on his back. it would jostle him less and was the only shot you had at getting a man of his size back to your vehicle on your own. 

you swear you hear him chuckle, but perhaps you were still a bit tipsy. you grab his hands, trying to be careful of the one riddled with glass, situating them in your own at the best leverage point. you’re strong—you can do this. you need to feel useful again–and this man needs to be saved. he’s so heavy, nothing but dead weight as you tug him along behind you. you have to bend a little and pray that your legs can make it to your car, just a final push to get to safety. 

you’re grateful when you see your mom-mobile waiting for you. this was your ambulance, and you were running out of time and the strength to keep pulling, gnawing nervously on your lip. what if he died anyway? what if you couldn’t save him at all, and were only chasing highs you’d never feel again? 

no. you’re skilled. if you couldn’t save this man then… the truth was that no one could. so determination overrides your anxiety for the time being, and you pop the trunk of your sporty suv, looking down at the man with a heart sigh. “okay–i can do it. what are ya, 200, 220?” you muse, squatting down and fixing him over your shoulders as best you could—a fireman’s carry of sorts. your hips and thighs should support you more than your exhausted arms, so you heave up with a strangled grunt. you throw him in a little harder than intended, grimacing. “sorry!” you huff, circling to your driver’s side. at least he’s in, even if your arms are jello and you know you’ll have to get him in the house somehow. you aren’t even thinking about how his blood will stain your tan interior—the rush of saving a life quieting any background noise in your mind. “you gotta hang in there. hang in there, please.” you mumble, weaving through traffic. 

you back up as close to your garage as possible, trying to think ahead for anything that could make this easier on yourself. you throw the car in park, hurrying to get him out of the back. he’s running out of time, and a surgical god you may be–but there’s only so many miracles you can call in. you get him in the same hold from earlier yet you let his feet touch the ground, muscles burning at the exercise. you have to breathe in short bursts, crushed by his heaviness, adrenaline helping you accomplish something you normally wouldn’t be capable of. you stumble with him, still half dragging him. it’s a battle you’re worried you might lose, but you get him on your dining room table, splayed out like a gurney. then you’re prepping your OR, getting the lights on, all the tools and dressings you would need, and most importantly—scrubbing in. infection would kill him if you weren’t careful now. 

“you stumbled into the right hands, mister. or well…i guess i stumbled over you–but you get the point.” you roll your eyes at yourself and glove up, stretching the vinyl over your fingers and flexing them, all part of your pre-op routine. you get your first good look at him then. he’s terribly hurt, it really is even worse than you thought. bullet holes and all this blunt trauma–he must have endured something horrific. but beneath all the bruising marring his olive skin, you can tell that he’s a beautiful man. his inky hair gleams under your bright dining room lights, somehow looking silky despite the tangles bunched up throughout the mane. you sigh, turning your attention to the blood soaked shirt he had on–two perfectly round entrance piercing his front, but no exit wounds. in his case, it was probably saving his life, those bullets possibly lodged in important arteries—scary, but better than bleeding out. he’s already lost quite a bit of blood–and it’s not like you have any history on him to know what type he is. there’s no time to worry about tests–you’d have to get your emergency stash of o negative. it was universal–your own blood that you kept on hand in case of the worst. it looks like this is it. you flawlessly install the iv, watching the slow stream shoot through the clear iv catheter and into his body. it helps with his paleness after a few minutes, and you smile in relief. this was a good sign. you rip his shirt with the last remaining strength you’ve got left, buttons flying to expose extremely bruised ribs and those gaping bullet wounds. “this isn’t gonna feel great, i’m sorry.” you grab your cheap bottle of house vodka, taking another shot from it to steady your nerves before pouring a decent amount over his chest. “i have to get in here—i’m happy you can’t feel it–now, anyway.” you take a deep breath and reach for your scalpel. you decide to perform a sternotomy—cutting between his breast plate to the web of arteries beneath. “i can see the bullets. you’re gonna make it.” you whisper, more encouragement for yourself than for him. your retractors keep his chest open for you wide enough for you to get your forceps in, aiming to pull out a bullet out of a vein close to his heart. “it missed the aorta. you’re actually really lucky.” you chuckle humorlessly.

you wedge your forceps in and take a deep breath. it’s not the aorta, but it will spew blood anyway. “not my preferred method of grafting—no catheters here but. i gotta fix it somehow.” you growl a little in annoyance. you have to squint and move slowly, but you’re able to repair the first leak with a shifty little graft. you’re onto the next one, dropping the offending metal into a bowl—complete with a little clink. “we’ll get you to the hospital just to check my work, yeah?” you sigh, hoping that this would be good enough to save his life. your hands steady over the second bullet, and you repeat the same motions as before. you’re relieved at the sight of his heart literally beating underneath your working hands, knowing that he’s still fighting for his life. you remove the second one and get out of his body—sewing up his chest, letting the blood bag refill his own supply until the bag is drained. you push some saline to clean out the line before hanging a bag of morphine, the pain this mystery man would wake up to would be excruciating. 

once you’re done with the intense life-saving measures, you sit in a chair to pluck the glass from his skin and apply ointments to the road rash on his face and arms. it takes another hour or so of work, but you don’t mind. it’s strangely relaxing to feel like you’re doing your job, and it’s so rewarding when you check his pulse every ten minutes to find it getting stronger and stronger. you hate that you hadn’t invested in a stat monitor, having to check his blood pressure the old fashioned way, but that looked like it was perking up too. you grin, proud of yourself. losing your license didn’t mean you lost your touch. you decide to get the glass and rubble out of his hair, pulling it back away from his face for a second time tonight. you take another lengthy look at the man you’ve saved, still grimacing at the ugly bruises and scrapes when something else catches your eye. the man had several tattoos that seemed unremarkable at first, different dark lines tangling into patterns you didn’t recognize. but the dragon creeping from his collarbone to peek over the collar of his shirt—it’s a yakuza trademark. this man wasn’t a poor soul caught up in a tragic accident—this was a dangerous man. you just saved the life of a war-monger, countless lives ended due to his line of work. part of you wants to open his chest back up and make your grafts fail—but the other part of you wants to feel the success course through your veins when he wakes up. besides, what makes a surgeon and what makes a gang lackey? is it a good childhood? morals? options? who’s to say this man had killed anyone? god knows you wouldn’t want to be judged based off of a few sneak peeks. you sigh, piddling off to your room to get him some new clothes. 

it’s invasive, changing a stranger. but you’re at fifth base already right? saving his life gave you a get out of jail free card, even if he was in the most dangerous crime syndicate in japan. you get his matted jeans off, making yourself look up at the ceiling in modesty and respect. you shimmy the plaid pajama pants up his body–thankful that your ex never came back for his stuff. you decide against wrestling a shirt around all the bandages on his arms and chest—knowing you could hurt him just as much as you’ve helped. you decide to try your luck one last time, pushing your table the short distance to your living room to let him rest on something more comfortable than the cold marble slab. it’s an easy shove to get him onto the couch, and you finally take a deep breath and sigh it all out. success is sweet–surgery is exhausting. you pull a little blanket over him, setting hourly alarms to check on your patient until he wakes. 

he wakes up to the smell of something cooking. the light pouring in from the curtain makes him squint–definitely a sharp adjustment from the darkness that consumed him before. he hears a woman humming a few rooms away, only furthering his confusion. he didn’t die? but how…he didn’t call anyone, and he knows no one in that area would willingly bring the sirens in to help him–and where exactly was he? all of these things hit him at once, but nothing harder than the deep ache in his bones. he couldn’t describe it, something so sharp and throbbing he could hardly get his body to obey his mind’s orders to move. 

sitting up is pure hell. every red flag and stop sign goes off, making him grunt in agony. but he knows he has to get going–get out of whatever trap he’s got himself into. he doesn’t recognize the room–for all he knows, sukuna’s men followed him and have him here to torture. 

but that woman’s voice, he knows it. that doesn’t mean this isn’t a trap still. the humming stops, and footsteps pad closer until a bright face pokes into the room, an ‘o’ shape forming on her face before she enters–complete with a plate of food. 

“you’re awake–” you gasp in surprise. you had just come to do your rounds, deciding that eating with him would help you better watch out. you weren’t expecting him to already be up and at ‘em, he must be very strong. though you still notice how rigid he’s holding himself. “you really should lie down, you…” he cranes his sore neck, flashing you a glimpse of that black ink. you suddenly remember just how dangerous he is, and he looks like a dog backed into a corner, narrow black eyes sizing you up—distrust all over his feline features. 

“who do you work for?” he tilts his head to one side, and your brows furrow in confusion, oh–he was worried you worked for a rival. you shake your head, eager to defend yourself. 

“n-no one, no one right now!” you blurt out, anxiously shifting your weight foot to foot. you look down at the breakfast in your hands, holding it out for him to take instead. “here! eat, as a sign of my goodwill.” 

he analyzes the plate, then looks back up at you–peacocking his shoulders back and hissing at the pain the stretch brought him. now you know just how weak he is—and he can’t make another target out of himself. “i hope you know i will have you killed if you’re lying.” 

despite the way his glare makes your skin crawl and the hair at the base of your neck stand up, you can’t help but laugh at that. “i wouldn’t lie. i saved your life, why would i waste my time?” you shove the plate out further, basically putting it in his hands–one still heavily bandaged from dragging himself through the wreckage. 

he takes the plate from you. if he’s shocked by that, he doesn’t show it. he only watches you as he eats your food, grunting in pain every so often. you took the iv out while he slept, not sure how he’d react when he woke up to wires. “i uh…i have medicine…for the pain.” 

“who are you?” he returns without a second passing. he takes another reluctant bite of food, stomach growling in thanks. 

you tell him your name, stealing a few glances at the heavy furrow of his brow. “you were badly hurt. i am a doctor..so i helped repair what i could. you should recover. i imagine you need to lay low?” you ask with a raised brow, betraying your intellect. he knows you must have some idea of who he is. “you can stay here as long as you need. you might want to shower–but you’ll…probably need some help.” 

his expression shifts before your very eyes. his clenched jaw and steel brow relaxes into a soft look of…gratitude? truthfully, he was baffled. a doctor stumbled upon him, realized that he’s a criminal, saved him anyway—and now offers her home? he almost worries about how naive you really must be—but he owes you a debt he can never repay. you have given him a second chance—made revenge possible when he had given up completely. “thank you, little ebi. i will take up your gracious offer.” he nods, smiling kindly. 

you smile, heart going awol inside your chest. it was the right thing to do, he was injured and needed to be cared for. you’re a doctor who suddenly has a lot of time on her hands. it means nothing–but that you still have empathy left in you. you know you’re close to shaking, but you turn to leave before it can show. “i’ll grab you a change of clothes. don’t move too much until i get back.” you hum, and he hums in acknowledgement. 

he’s rather polite for a yakuza, his refined calmness even in the most dire of situations rubs off on you easily—you hold your head high as you pilfer through the tote of clothes your ex left behind, trying to find something for the big scary man in the living room. you finally decide on a plain black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. you even nab some of those painkillers you offered earlier, hoping to ease that stiffness he carries himself with to mask his suffering. 

but when you get back to the living room the only thing waiting for you is the empty breakfast plate and a few hundred dollar bills—your curtains blowing in the harsh wind. your heart sinks for an unknown reason, and you tell yourself it’s because your patient wasn’t dressed for the cold.

[schpect]

I would like to know more about the wilting oil rose au(also how did rose get put into that ship name?)

I don't have a specific ask, but I guess, how would Canon go down? Ep1, more specifically, liek, does J still die? Or does she shut her mouth cause she's more dependent on V in this one

I love it when my gays get to be happy, but they can suffer a little bit or a lot before that

Also, I love how you draw their expressions, J looks the perfect mix of uncomfy and nervous while V looks like she's trying her best

SRY IF THIS IS MESSY and long. I haven’t had time to make it comprehendible. so none of this is *solid* fact for the AU lol

-

Honestly i’ve only thought about Pre-Canon and Post-Canon so far, its been a bit of a struggle to fit it all into the canon timeline and have it make sense 😭

most of the relationship aspect happens in the Pre-Canon, so I believe it wouldn’t stray *that* far from Canon (?). Only slightly changed by focusing more on OilRose and J’s betrayal towards the end of MD

but yes J still does “die” in EP1 , V is incredibly upset at uzi for that and is more hostile to her in this au :-) (shes a lot more ruthless too)

J is still essentially the same company loving, selfish drone, still hung onto what she has left of tessa. even if that means siding with cyn

they break up in ep 8 💔🥀

-

..P.S. V has a whole development Post-Canon where N and Uzi teach her that she can be in a healthy relationship. They love her! Although it takes her quite a bit to accept it.

this au is also based on trauma bonding between victims, which is why V & J were as close as they were in the first place! (since N was the only drone who had his memories wiped)

credits to @rosenapppiing for helping me form thoughts and ideas for this 😭

[luciluck2046-md]

HAAAAAAAIIII!!1!!!1!

I am Luci Luck :3 (my main is @luciluck2046 ), and this is my murder drones account.

I can draw art requests for free, but I can't promise I'll accept the offer since I can't draw a LOT of things. If you want me to draw something not murder drones related GO TO MY MAIN AND DM ME THERE. THIS IS A PURELY MD ACCOUNT. You can give me requests through asks & DMing me.

Artsy is the one spying and helping me to write fics. She deserves some recognition. @artsycrow2046.

I have several MD AUs. The ones with pink names have fanfics. The one with red names, don't. Each one of the AUs that have a Masterpost have it linked.

-Glowing Future AU(Also my main AU): An AU looking at the events after Episode 8. It's both traumatizing and sweet. Ships: NUzi, Dizzy, OilRose, Khori

-No Mercy AU: My second au ever made, it's a pretty sad one and I still haven't finished the story. Basically Doll takes control of Uzi and uses her to kill every Disassembly Drone/Affiliated Drone. But damn, here the rule "no happy endings" IS NO HAPPY ENDINGS (I just gotta edit the chapter and yet I'm still procrastinating)

-Golden Future AU: A parallel to my main AU. Just different ships. Ships: NUziV, Dizzy, Jessa, Khori. I am rarely talking about it.

NOTE! No Mercy and Golden Future are just separate versions of Glowing Future. If I talk about Glowing Future I am usually talking about all of the versions. Otherwise I'll mention the difference.

-DroneTale: Some kind of crossover between Murder Drones and Undertale. Ships: NUzi, Vizzy, Jessa, NorYeva.

-Shopping Spree AU: A world where drones are friends with humans. Copper 9 is Copper's biggest shopping center/mall. Everything is shop tied, very easy going. Ships: NUziV, Khori. I am rarely talking about it.

-Flesh&Sins AU: Human MD AU. It's a little bit different than canon, going from the beginning with a different main ship! Ships: VUzi, NorYeva, Dizzy

-Disassembly Rewired AU: Swap AU, I haven't ever mentioned its existence. Ships: NUziVJ. I am rarely talking about it.

The last one is a link to a Google Drive with all the MD Episodes :3

[emolgabrine]

@shroudthecursedone ABSOLUTELY USING THIS, THANK YOU.

This just works with the story even more! Absolute End would go differently as well, because instead of obeying Jade, T betrays her, finally seeing through Jade's tricks!

This also means I won't have to change either of their hairstyles either, hehe

Hehehehe swap au I'm going nuts I'm having thoughts

So, this is a mostly role swap au. Their personalities and interests stay mostly the same, but there are some differences due to the plot.

Rambles under cut

Personality and interest changes

- Thad's main interest is still sports, but he's got some skill in technology, not as good with it as Uzi, but still notable. He's probably not as friendly as he is in canon with most of his classmates, but still a chill dude otherwise.

- N is meaner obviously, but there's still parts of his golden retriever personality still in him, which come out more as the story progresses. He also lies to himself and acts like he enjoys murdering worker drones, but deep down, he's not happy about having to do murder. While a drone pleaser, he is capable of setting some boundaries.

- V is shy and sweet like she was in the mansion! This makes her an easy target for C to push around. V has very mixed feelings about murdering worker drones. She enjoys it like in canon, but also doesn't at the same time. Just because she's shy and nicer than canon does not mean she's completely innocent, it's important to remember she's still good with combat.

- Ron is pretty racist towards disassembly drones, that's obvious. But instead of being completely rude towards them, he's extremely passive-aggressive.

Now the plot changes!

- Thad and Uzi are childhood friends! Uzi is actually the reason Thad gains an interest in technology and teaches him about it.

- Uzi has no respect for Teacher as a result of this, seeing from a young age how his actions affected Thad. She also questions why the WDF doesn't train in combat.

- Uzi basically is the fourth member of the main squad, she's deserves to be more important to the story. Not only does she help teach N to be less of a drone pleaser, she also is there to guide Thad with hacking so he can keep Jade from deleting V and N's memories. Figuring out how she helps in The Prommening and Mass Distruction, but she'll likely be present for those as well.

- Thad's railgun will likely be replaced with something else, but I'm still figuring out what.

- Pretty obvious change but Nori, Uzi, and Doll don't have the Absolute Solver. Ron, Thad, and Lizzy do.

And now the relationship changes. Some of these are more important to the plot than others.

- Nori and Khan are married, like in canon despite the role changes. Ron and Teacher are also married despite not being so in canon.

- Thad and Lizzy are half-siblings, both of them being related to Teacher. Lizzy was gonna live with her other parent and step parent, but they got killed by N.

- Yeva and her husband are alive offscreen, Doll and Uzi are cousins.

- Khan is a better father in this au.

- Vhad and Nuzi endgame!

- Uzi still gets bullied, but less so than in canon. She's not the most popular drone, but she's got a few admirers.

There's still other things I need to work on, but these are what I got for now. It's fun thinking about this au!

[sitp-recs]

Teddy Lupin Appreciation Reclist

I hope everyone’s already read my gorgeous gift Wield Me by @tackytigerfic because that fic finally inspired me to finish and post this rec list! I’ve been a big Teddy fan since his name came up in the books; thanks to @lqtraintracks I was lucky to get introduced to and fall in love with Harry/Teddy many years ago. Sometimes it’s hard to read them together with other ships because just like Peter Parker, Teddy holds a very special place in my heart and I just want him to be happy and loved 🥹 so to celebrate my long-standing love for this character - which was boosted a hundred times by Tacky’s gift, I thought I’d share my favorite Teddys - both in romantic and platonic relationships - in fic. btw if anyone wants to start a Teddy centric fest let me know!

🏍️ Coming Up for Air by @lqtraintracks (Hardy, M, 2k)

I could have died of it, your tenderness toward me. Instead I decided to live.

🍑 Five Years Since Bimbleswats by tryslora (Tedrarry, E, 4k)

It’s been five years since Bimbleswats, and Draco thinks that is definitely something worth celebrating.

💦 Waiting Under Vain by supergrover24 (Hardy, E, 5k)

Teddy wants to know how sex really should be. Harry can't resist, no matter how much he tries.

🥩 The Lies We Live With by @bixgirl1 (Jeddy, E, 5k)

It doesn’t really count… is almost always followed by a lie, James learns, growing up.

🎨 Surface Texture by @the-starryknight (Hardy, E, 5k)

I've drawn a hundred portraits, but none quite like Harry's. In the early hours of the morning, I lay him bare in charcoal and paper.

👠 When It Alteration Finds by @lqtraintracks (Hardy, E, 7k)

Teddy thinks this is the way to finally get what he wants. But there is more than one way to Harry's heart.

🧁 Holding Out for A Hero by @writcraft (Hardy, E, 7k)

Even as he says no, Harry’s hands push into Teddy’s hair. Even as he protests, his lips connect with Teddy’s. Before Teddy can offer any reassurance his heart’s thumping wildly in his chest and Harry Potter’s kissing him as if there’s no tomorrow.

🐉 On the Same Side by rillalicious (Teddy/Charlie, M, 7.5k)

Teddy is heading to Romania to protest a proposed anti-dragon law. He finds an interesting ally there.

🧅 Shut Up and Kiss Me by @unmistakablyoatmeal (Hardy, E, 8k)

There's a reason Harry walks an extra ten blocks to go to the shops and it has nothing to do with onions. AU.

🪞 Portrait of a Young Girl by @thusspoketrish (Drarry, M, 8.6k)

Recently married, Harry and Draco are tasked with raising a four-year old Teddy, whose emerging gender identity brings up an array of questions, fears, and revelations for them when they realise that Teddy might be transgender.

⚔️ Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (Drarry + hints at Tedrarry, E, 10k)

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?). A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

🦆 Hallo Spaceboy by @shiftylinguini (Jeddy, T, 10k)

Or: James kissed Teddy last night. This may or may not be the end of the world.

🧹 Overexposed by @nv-md (Tedrarry, E, 10k)

Teddy never expected to become a model for Nimbus, and he definitely didn't expect any of the adverts to catch Harry and Draco's attention. But now that it's happened, Teddy can't deny he gets a thrill every time he catches Harry and Draco staring, and he's going to do everything he can to keep their eyes on him.

🎸 like the lost lyrics of a song suddenly remembered by @lqtraintracks (Teddy/Bill + Jeddy, E, 11k)

Teddy Lupin, aging rockstar, is making a comeback after his life and career were nearly ruined by an illegal potions habit. Everyone's out to support him tonight. Including the man he's always tried so hard not to love -- as well as the man he's always turned to instead.

⛺️ Good Intent by @maesterchill (Jeddy + past Hardy, E, 12k)

It all starts on the camping trip when James gets his dick out in the tent.

🎾 Game, Set, Match by @writcraft (Hardy, E, 13k)

Teddy is smitten, Harry is lonely and tennis seems like a great way to avoid dealing with this thing between them.

🤝 Team Players by @shiftylinguini (Jeddy + James/Oliver, E, 15k)

Everyone has that one celebrity they’d move heaven and earth to get between their legs, and James Potter is no exception. He just never anticipated that number one on his Freebie List would end up in the same room as him, let alone would make the first move. But lucky for James, Teddy is a team player―well, he probably is, especially with what James is suggesting.

🍨 The Strongest Affinity by eidheann (Drarry, T, 17k)

Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined.

🦋 Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (Drarry, T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse. That is, until he stumbles upon the surreal and beautiful world of a mysterious fae creature…

🌳 By the Grace by lettered (Drarry, T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

[starlover2]

Been brainstorming a MD au for the past couple days Alice/Nori/Khan is a thing and Beau is Uzi's little brother Nori still dies and hides away as a core, while Alice ends up getting trapped in the labs one night a couple years later and starts to lose her sanity Both Uzi and Beau live with Khan, Beau isn't a toddler in this, he's a teenager and a couple years younger than Uzi (Uzi is likely 18-19-20? Which would make Beau 15-16-17) Beau also has an interest in doors but wants to make better doors for the future, because of his door interest Khan is super happy and gives him attention while unintentionally neglecting Uzi Despite the negligence on Khan's end, Uzi holds no resentment towards toward Beau, instead they act like siblings do

Khan does try to be a better father for Uzi after the DD incident like in canon(Though Khan also lost his son's respect after he found out his dad left Uzi for dead) Beau makes himself a tail after seeing Uzi's solver form, he makes it out of a DD tail and DD claw(Like Alice's knife tail), he also has no solver so he draws markings on his face with markers

Alice still knocks Uzi, V and N out in the labs, except Alice recognizes Uzi and doesn't have her tied down or sedated. Instead she's excited and trying to contain it bc that's her kid She's still crazy and planned to torture V and N while keeping DD cores hidden in an oven. She doesn't get the chance to tho

Alice also doesn't get bootlooped, she joins Uzi and co but remains hostile towards "Tessa", N and V. That is until V's 'sacrifice', she witnesses that and sees how N cares for Uzi which stuns her. She's still hostile towards "Tessa" though

Nori was with Alice in the labs for a bit, but they got into an argument abt Uzi. Nori insisting that she ruined Uzi's life while Alice thinks otherwise. They had a brief fall out then tried to find the other again

Both moms and N also beat the Solver's ass for possessing Uzi and all of the other things it did

Alice and Nori reunite with Khan and Beau after the Solver is defeated

[pjsk-headcanons]

i feel like whenever i have school my motivation just drains like a sink but HEY I GOT THIS DONE FAST!!! wish i could say that for new dream au designs...tracing traditional art to online is hard :(

hinomoris: hostile

-flashback to shiho online name backstory, they were pretty fine up to the point until shizuku quit being a model and decided to focus on being an idol. this was probably only a little bit after canon leo/need was SERIOUSLY over (high school, shiho pushed them away). not good mental states.

-the arguement went something like:

"im going to become an idol"

"why"

"i need to (prove myself)" (i really need to figure out shizuku in this au huh...)

"why would you need to? you shouldn't do things to just prove people wrong"

the fight escalates, shizuku makes some points about canon l/n and shiho makes some points about being a model/idol. it ends with shiho locking herself in her room.

-if they're ever in the same place, things get very tense (like dinner with your parents when you know theyre going to ask you want to do with your life)

EVENTS

design for soul and heart! - post 1st anni

character boost - emu (focus), shizuku, airi, shiho, city luka

-so um what happens is that emu sees a fashion poster. is thinking about it ALL week when she sees shizuku at school

-thinks "ohhhh that lady is really pretty maybe she'd be interested"

-she meets airi and shiho at pxl and invites them too. she didn't tell them shizuku was there though

-awkward silence between idols and glaring between sisters. however emu makes them all work together

-emu figured out the problem and was really confused (she and her sister get along really well?!!?)

and hinomoris have some sort of silent agreement to not talk about it in public

glistening snow over silent tears - pre 2nd anni

character boost: shiho (focus), tsukasa, honami, shizuku, stage MEIKO

-itsssss snowing! first snow of the year!! shiho gets happy lil memories of her and shizuku. event sad speedrun any %.

-tsukasa notices her being down during midnight calls and decides to talk to her. mental breakdown over a voice call at 2 am? thats what i call modern

-hinomori sibling relationship reveal

-feeling a bit better after the talk, shiho confesses in honami. they are friends again!

-now that i think about it shiho is by far having the most character development in mds at least.

-flashback to mds call, shizuku overheard shiho crying over the call. hmmm i wonder who those people are... CLIFFHANGER BABEY

take my hand, so our dreams fly further - post 3rd anni

character boost: shizuku (focus), shiho, rui, toya, studio rin

-shizuku decides to confront shihom maybe about the midnight calls. maybe about the fight. maybe about the wishes for earlier times. maybe about everything?

-however she doesn't know how to approach so she goes to rui. he's like "oh im not sure i can help but i think i know someone who does :3"

-toya. spoiler alert its toya because tenma and he has brothers and horrible parents and hes friends with shiho. this wasnt planned beforehand i promise

-with a bit of pondering, shizuku finally decides to do it straightforward

-the conversation is up to interpretation (i am not creative) but after that their relationship is something between canon shinonomes and canon hinomoris

MUST KEEP COMPOSING...i feel like a kanade right now (tired) but i will probably have shinonomes done in a few days. no promises for designs

(also!! update on colorfes pulls. i got ena1, kohane3??? (one sheep) akito, banner ichika, tsukasa, minori (twice), colorfes KAITO, and a saki dupe in 33k. one day colorfes shiho and sunflower akito WILL come home but hey at least i have a 4star akito card)

have a great day mod!!! you will get through it!!!

🌐 anon

.

[shadowthehedgehog1]

😆 its so good

Rituals

So this fic has been in my WIPS since last May, but finishing it as originally intended eluded me (the second part of this was going to be a lot longer). I like what I had so far though, so I thought heck with it, why not post here? A Thane lives! fic for warm feels. Thane Krios x Garrus Vakarian (vakarios),  Kolyat Krios, OC Hanar, OC Salarian, OC drell god. Thane lives AU. Keprals treatment. Drell Gods and worship. Words: 2163

Thane has been recieving kepral’s treatment and now it’s results day. Unsure of how to feel about it, he has Garrus and Kolyat with him to recieve this life changing news. Afterwards, Thane realises he has not been embracing life fully, and it’s time to start living. (suggestive, but no smut) Fic under the cut:

Keep reading

[hoshinorail]

EPISODE 8 SPOILERS BELOW BUT I HAD AN AU IDEA SO LEMME RANT THANK YOU

So, here I was hoping that it would morph into like, Cyn’s original form, unpossessed and all. Oh well, that’s what AUs are for ig :)

[wrongfourtytwo]

❄️ Thank you all for your support! ❄️

🎁

✨ 🎄 Request any character from these fandoms and I’ll draw them in Christmas wear or setting! 🎄 (Ask box only) ✨

👨‍⚕️ -House MD

⚫️-SCP

⚪️-Overwatch

💀 -Undertale (+Au’s)

🦖 -Any Dinosaur ♥️

🐉 -WOF

🐝 -Marble Hornets

🐶 -Your pet ! (Put a picture in the ask and I’ll be happy to sketch whatever animal/s you have!)

[Will end a day or two after new years]

[shrinkthisviolet]

talk shop tuesday - you once mentioned the 'Robby Lawrence' AU and I would love love love to know more about that, and how Johnny having been present in Robby's life would change things in this 'verse (beyond Robby getting some decent parental figures in his life for once).

Oooh there’s a deep cut 😅 last time I talked about that was a couple years back! Here’s the initial post about it if anyone’s curious.

This is also a bit longer than I expected (even tho I only hit some of the highlights 😅) so the rest is below the cut:

So Johnny being more present in Robby's life would also probably improve things with Shannon, because really, I think a lot of Robby's issues with Shannon had to do with the fact that she was trying her level best but she wasn't prepared to be a single mom. She was relying on Johnny to help parent Robby, and of course that never happened in canon—Johnny kept letting her down. But with Johnny more present, I think the two of them would be on better terms with each other and with Robby! They wouldn't be together as a couple, but they're co-parents and friends, and they love Robby, and Robby loves them. So from the jump, there's a more stable relationship.

Also, I mentioned he meets Sam in elementary school* and they strike up a friendship. A one-sided, Shirbert-esque academic rivalry at first (serious from Sam's end, not so much from Robby's end), but then it becomes more playful over time. As a result, Robby also has Daniel and Amanda as...maybe or maybe not parental figures, but definitely trusted adults. Especially Amanda—I love how much those two just get each other, and of course I gotta keep it in this AU idea.

Robby gets pulled into the Miyagi-Do stuff much earlier—Johnny's wary about it, but he and Daniel have resolved their differences by now (especially since Shannon and Amanda are best friends and keep glaring at them whenever they start fighting, so they've been lovingly bullied into reconciling), so Johnny trusts Daniel with Robby. And he sees Robby flourish—he was always a fairly happy kid since meeting Sam, but with karate in particular, it's like a sort of calmness follows him everywhere. Johnny even sits in on a few of Robby's classes, claiming it's to "keep an eye on them", but everyone knows it's because Johnny's kinda warming up to the idea of this more meditative style of karate. (It helps him too. He and Robby practice sparring, and they develop an in-between style of CK and MD together.)

Obviously Robby would be friends with Sam's friends too...well, at least Aisha, Demetri, and Eli**. Yasmine and Moon would rub him the wrong way, and he and Sam would argue a lot about it. Aisha, Demetri, and Eli cut ties with her, and Robby does too, telling Sam, "the girl I knew, who kept trying to befriend the loner new kid and didn't stop until it worked, would never side with the girl bullying her best friend. Come talk to me when you've gotten your head on straight." (Though of course, Robby jumps to her defense when the Kyler rumors pop up, frowning at Aisha when she says something snide. Miguel attacks Kyler before Robby can, and for that, Robby can admit the new kid is pretty cool.)

And he and Anthony would have kind of a...not a brotherly relationship at first, but a tentative respect relationship, that sort of evolves into a brotherly one over the years (when Anthony starts bullying Kenny, Robby's the one who drags him away by the ear and demands to know "what the hell do you think you're doing, Anthony LaRusso" and nips that rivalry in the bud, thank you very much)

Hmm what else...oh! Johnny opens Cobra Kai at the start of canon, Daniel gets pissed about it, but not as pissed as canon—remember, he knows Johnny here. So instead of doing something underhanded, he calls Johnny and demands to know what he thinks he's doing. Reminds him what Kreese did. Johnny snaps back that he doesn't need a reminder, and that it's a free country, he can do what he wants. Daniel has never spoken about KK3, but Johnny's always suspected there was something else, something about '85 that Daniel's not mentioning. He pries a little, but Daniel gets defensive. Tells him to be careful and hangs up. So that part's just slightly changed—it just means no underhanded tricks, more communication for them.

Oh and ofc regarding the romances, there wouldn't be any love triangle nonsense. Miguel would be jealous of Robby from way earlier (because remember, Robby jumped to Sam's verbal defense first), but Robby would say "no, dude, she's like a sister/best friend to me. Ask her out if you want. But...if my dad tries to give you advice, maybe take it with a grain of salt." (Miguel takes her to golf 'n stuff anyway, and Robby figures that's for the best. Casual is better for a first date). And of course with no jealousy nonsense, Miguel and Sam don't break up, so there's no Sam/Robby and Miguel/Tory in s2.

And, actually, Robby and Aisha are both the first to befriend Tory. Now, of course, Robby and Aisha both feel similarly about Sam—they both cut ties with her at the same time and both made amends with her at the same time. But also, Robby's always been the type to defuse the tension (this is a canon trait of his, which would likely carry over more here due to Daniel, Amanda, and Shannon's collective influences). So when Sam starts making accusations and Tory starts getting heated, Robby steps between them, tells them both to calm down, and tells Sam to explain what's going on. So she does, and Robby ropes Tory and Aisha into helping Sam (doesn't take too much convincing for the latter—remember, Aisha forgave Sam in 1x10). They find Amanda's wallet, all is well...and Sam apologizes for making assumptions. Tory's not sure what to make of her, so she just nods (as a result of this, they become friends much earlier).

There's probably more that would change, but these are the big things I can think of 😅 I...did not expect to get hooked on this idea again, but I so am. Thanks for the ask!

*Sam's an Encino kid, but she goes to public school, as Robby probably would too. So that's where they meet.

**Demetri, Eli, Aisha, and Sam all being childhood best friends is a long-standing headcanon of mine, so ofc it would be present here

talk shop tuesday!

[peachysunrize]

20 Questions for Fic writers

Thank you @adragonprinceswhore for tagging me, ly<333🫂🩷

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

7 although I deleted around 12 one shots when I deactivated my previous blogs

2. what's your total A03 word count?

36,508

3. what fandoms do you write for?

House of the Dragon & I have one House MD one shot on ao3 as well

4. top five fics by kudos

Examine Room / Devil’s Doll / Labyrinth / Lemon Tart / The Ballad of a dragon

5. do you respond to comments?

Yes!!!! Please comment more!!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Lemon Tart for now but I have one hell of an angst ending for an upcoming series

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Labyrinth & idk if anyone remembers or not but All That I’m Living for had a very happy ending as well

8. do you get hate on fics?

Not anymore although I used to get lots of anon hates on my first blog after I published a dark content story

9. do you write smut?

Yeah ofc!

10. craziest crossover?

Never wrote a crossover but I’d like to write a Bridgerton au fic

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes in my previous fandom I got 4 of my stories stolen

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Nop

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

I’ve helped with ideas but no

14. all time favorite ship?

I don’t have an all time favorite ship but Alicole (not s2 version) & Helaegon will always have a special place in my heart

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have this modern Aegon series in my docs that I worked months on but never finished a chapter of it…

16. what are your writing strengths?

I have no idea I think my readers should answer this😭

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

I’m not a native speaker so putting the words together and make it make sense is probably the hardest part for me, along that sitting and actually writing, dialogues and describing details

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Yeah they’re cool as long as they have translations

19. first fandom you wrote in?

Harry Potter (don’t ask anything about this)

20. favorite fic you've written?

Labyrinth!!! And closely followed by The Other Woman

No pressure tags: @namelesslosers @bucknastysbabe @barbieaemond @aemondsbabe @arcielee @moris-auri @lovelykhaleesiii

[m-y--p-a-s-s-i-o-n-s]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @saybiwithme :)

How many works do you have on ao3?

184

2. What fandoms do you write for?

Supernatural

Sherlock

Teen Wolf

Marvel

James Bond

Star Trek

Merlin

Harry Potter

Primeval

House MD

Venom

The Old Guard

Detroit Become Human

The Witcher

Good Omens

Lucifer

Hannibal

Our Flag Means Death

Ted Lasso

Staged

Carnival Row

Doctor Who

The Umbrella Academy

True Blood

So, just a few XD

3. Top five fics by kudos:

1- Meant To Be (Star Trek AOS)

2- Making Love (Venom)

3- 5 Times Jim Forgot About Vulcan Hand Sensitivity & 1 Time He Didn't (Star Trek AOS)

4- Lunch Break (House M.D.)

5- Truth Or Dare (Supernatural)

4. Do you respond to comments?

Yes, unless it's hate or I have not a single thing to say in response

5. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Off the top of my head, I think its gotta be:

Whatever This Is Between Us (Endverse SPN)

or

Pheromones (Good Omens)

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Now this one is problematic, how am I supposed to chose just one??? I specialise in happy endings XD Ummm, lets see...possibly...

The Umbrella (Good Omens)

or

The One That Got Away (TOS Star Trek)

or

Good News (DBH)

7. Do you get hate on fics?

Not often, but yes, I just delete the comment cause they're not worth my time.

8. Do you write smut?

Soooo much smut

9. Craziest crossover?

Hahahahahaha XD I love this question, not only is it my craziest crossover, its just my craziest fic in general XD

Convergence

Just imagine some crazy person (this bitch) decided to write a fic for all of their ships (up to that date), they all meet up and work together, and there's a lot of smut, and hot damn, there's even a plot.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Two that I'm aware of :D

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Fragments (Star Trek AOS) with @lizzy0305

and

Double Date (Star Trek AOS)

13. All time favourite ship?

Spirk <3

14. What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

A Destiel AU with cook!Dean and office job!Cas

15. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue I think, and fluff. And I think I can usually get their voices pretty spot on fairly quickly usually.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Details, I have to really think about putting in details. And I write quite slow.

17. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Love it as long as a translation happens either within the fic, or in the author's notes so I know what it says. I use the Vulcan language a fair bit in my Trek fics.

18. First fandom you wrote in?

Technically it was Harry Potter before I knew what fanfiction even was. But it was Supernatural when I knew it was fanfiction I was writing, and it was the first fandom I posted fic for. My first fic: Acceptance (Supernatural)

19. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Oh boi this is a tough one...heres a couple of my favs...

An Artist and His Muse (Good Omens)

Something Special (Staged)

The One That Got Away (Star Trek TOS)

The Update (DBH)

Under the Shape of Dessert (BBC Sherlock)

What No Man Has Done Before (HP/ST AOS)

In Search of the Sun (Star Trek AOS)

20. What’s your total ao3 word count? (I missed this one at the top and just added it to the bottom XD)

698,179 words

TAGGING: @lizzy0305 @doonarose @ineffable-ezra and my other followers who write fics!