#so anyway everyone say thank you nurse joy for making sure Red is still alive lol

[a-tale-of-legends]

Something that I talked about on discord that I'll repeat now: I like the idea of the nurse at the bottom of mt.silver looking out for Red.

Red is gonna need to heal his pokemon after training once in a while, and so he would go down to the pokemon center just to do that. The nurse and staff there are small but greatly skilled ( it's not everyday a trainer comes to mt. Silver. Let alone a child). So more often than not, Red is usually the only one that enters their pokemon center. If not, it's usually at night. That's how the nurse first got acquainted with Red.

In the beginning, she would gently ask Red why he hasn't gone home yet. And every time, Red would just shake his head. She respected him enough to let it slide, but she still worries. There's time she's tempted to call anyone, someone about Red and his whereabouts but. She didn't want to disrespect the kids' privacy. Not after the fiasco that was him becoming champion. So, against her better judgment, she keeps quiet.

Sometimes Red wouldn't come down the mountain for an extended period of time. That wasn't exactly out of the ordinary with him. But on some days the nurse just has a gut feeling. The Nurse isn't the most talented battler out there,but there's a reason she and her staff are all placed at the base of mt. Silver. She can go to the mountain just fine, and once she reaches the top, she always makes sure to check on Red. To give him food, water, extra clothes and blankets etc etc. If she can't do it herself that day, she has one of her pokemon fly up there. Though she often prefers to go by foot. Just go see with her own eyes that the kid is okay.

Red is always quiet, mostly giving head nods or shakes, or sometimes even signing. The nurse would always open to possibilty for them to just. Talk. She knew sign, and she knew the kid was lonely. But every time Red turns away. Politely of course. Red is always polite. She thinks it's his way of punishing himself somehow. It hurts her to think about it. This never stops her checking in on her.

The minute she was aware that Blue and Green were going up the mountain, she knew Red's time on it was coming to an end. It wasn't immediate (red was stubborn, she knew that), but eventually he did come down.

The last thing he did before leaving was to visit her and offered to stay for a meal, which she happily obliged to. It was the first time the two actually talked. A hug and a thank you later, and Red was gone.

He still tries to keep in touch, don't worry.

[raleighcarrera]

daydream

ride or die | logan x mc (ellie wheeler)

ellie takes logan home from the hospital. he’s had a couple of painkillers.

for @rodappreciationweek day 1 (logan day!)

~2.2k words | T (brief mentions of violence but otherwise extreme fluff)

she’d been in class, when mona had called her, so ellie didn’t get the chance to check her voicemail until an hour after the notification first lit up her cellphone screen. 

then she heard the words ‘hospital’ and ‘surgery’ and promptly blacked out, racing down the highway from campus to get back to the city as quickly as possible.

“where is he?” ellie demanded, once she’d caught up to her, out of breath from having run from the parking lot, “is he okay? can i see him? what happened?”

“relax,” mona said, ellie’s eyes immediately widening in response. now was definitely not the time to relax. “he’s out of surgery. they said it went well. he’s totally fine, we can take him home tonight.”

ellie exhaled, nodding numbly. her shoulders slumped. “okay. okay, that’s good. i’m glad, but -- seriously, what happened to him?”

she winced. “he got shot a little.”

god, was mona ever lucky that they were in a crowded hospital waiting room. swallowing down her scream, ellie grit her teeth and ground out, “how does someone get shot a little?”

mona rolled her eyes. “fine, he got shot a lot. it’s because he doesn’t listen.”

“jesus christ,” ellie huffed, “i can’t believe you --”

“hang on, don’t blame me --”

“excuse me?” 

ellie pursed her lips, turning to the nurse that’d interrupted them. “yes?”

“i’ll need to go over some recovery information with the home caretaker. would that be you?”

well, it definitely wasn’t going to be mona. ellie sighed -- so much for her perfect attendance record this semester, though even the idea of school seemed inconsequential, now. “yeah,” she murmured, “what will he need once i get him home?”

she nodded attentively through a long lecture on bandage changing and medication dosage, making notes on the instructional paperwork the nurse provided. it was relieving to have something to focus on other than the rapid pounding of her heartbeat, which hadn’t taken even a moment to slow since she’d first left class, and the nausea that wouldn’t seem to temper, twisting her stomach into knots.

finally, logan came out into the waiting room, sprawled easily in a wheelchair and talking animatedly to the nurse that was pushing him. he had a wide, goofy smile on his face, and he was talking with his hands -- with the right one, at least, his left arm slung across his stomach.

despite the assurances she’d received since she first got here, part of her hadn’t really thought she’d see him again. part of her was convinced everyone was lying about how fine he was to keep her calm, but the sight of him, alive and whole and seemingly alright immediately triggered a deep relief within her, so sudden and intense that she stumbled a little under the weight of it. 

he turned his head and caught sight of her, his expression lighting up with joy as soon as their eyes locked. “baby,” logan said slowly, drawing out the sound of the vowel so the word felt a mile long. “hey, what’re you doing here?”

tears sprung into her eyes suddenly, catching her entirely off guard. she rushed the rest of the way over to him and reached down to cup his face in her hands, gently smoothing them over his hair and across his cheeks. “thank god you’re okay,” she hiccuped quietly, “i was so scared.”

“oh, don’t cry. you’re so pretty, you shouldn’t cry.” he was still smiling that big grin, and each word out of his mouth was soft and slurred.

from behind him, the nurse that’d brought him out into the lobby said, “he’s on some pretty strong painkillers. he’s probably going to be a little out of it for awhile.”

“that’s okay.” ellie reluctantly pulled her hand away to wipe at her eyes, standing up straight again. “i’m just glad he’s okay.”

“hey, erica, did you meet my girlfriend?” logan asked, tilting his head back to look at the nurse standing behind him, going cross-eyed as he went. “this’s her. she’s the smartest girl in the whole world. she invented physics.”

“wow,” erica the nurse said obligingly, “that’s quite the accomplishment. you must be very proud.”

logan beamed at her. “so proud,” he agreed, “she’s gonna win the nobel prize and i’m gonna be a trophy husband.”

everyone within hearing distance started laughing. ellie could feel herself flush red to the roots of her hair, her whole face going up in flames. “okay, that’s enough. we need to get you home and in bed.”

“cool,” logan said, flipping his hair out of his eyes. he winked at her. 

ellie’s blush deepened as the nurses laughed and fawned over logan while she signed his discharge paperwork -- of course they’d already been charmed by him. 

mona helped her get him into the passenger seat of her car, and then they were alone, ellie’s grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled as she made her way back to his apartment. 

it was a strange role-reversal; often, when they were together, he did the driving. but logan didn’t seem bothered at all by the change of pace, humming to himself and alternating between staring out the window and smiling at her. “you came home from school?” he asked finally, breaking the silence between them. his voice was a sing-song, like they were out for a sunday afternoon drive instead of on their way home from the emergency room.

“yeah,” she answered, “of course. mona called and said you were in the hospital, i didn’t -- i drove down as soon as i could. and i’ll stay as long as i can.”

he made a soft, interested noise from beside her. “stay with me?”

“someone has to change your bandage and --”

“this is the best day ever. baby -- you should stay forever.” ellie glanced over and saw his head roll to the side in the passenger seat, his dopey grin only growing the longer he stared at her. “forever and ever and ever and ever --”

“logan --”

“-- and ever and ever and ever. whaddya say?”

“you are going to feel awful when those wear off,” she murmured, though the tension she’d been carrying in her shoulders started to dissipate, slightly, her lips gently turning up into a smile. “seriously, are you still totally numb?”

a laugh bubbled up in his mouth -- something like a giggle. “pretty much. just pulls a little if i move weird.” as she waited to merge onto the highway, ellie glanced over at logan again and found him poking at his stomach with a wince. “hurt like hell when it happened, though.” 

“you scared the shit out of me,” she said bluntly, turning back to the road and frowning at it as though the 405 was personally responsible for logan’s injury. “i almost had a stroke driving down here.”

“god, i’m sorry, el.” the playful tone was gone from his voice all at once, replaced with dramatic agony. “i mean it, babe. i’m really -- really -- really sorry.”

“it’s fine,” ellie assured him, doing her best to stifle a laugh, her anger evaporating completely in the face of his pouting, “the important thing is that you’re alright now.”

it was a balance, keeping her handle on the road smooth while still trying to get them home as quickly as possible, but she managed it, somehow able to get logan into the apartment even with his limbs seemingly everywhere at once when he leaned on her for support. 

“ow,” he whined abruptly, as soon as she got him in bed and logan’s head hit the pillow, “ow, ow, ow. ellie, ow.”

“one second,” she murmured, biting back another laugh while she made sure he was situated and comfortable, taking care to get everything organized so she wouldn’t have any issues over the next few days before presenting logan with another pill and a bottle of water. “here.”

“feed it to me,” he demanded, sticking out his tongue.

ellie stared at him. he arched his eyebrows expectantly.

“you’re ridiculous,” she laughed, but dropped the pill into his mouth anyway, still pushing the bottle of water forcefully into his hands. “stop it, you’ll choke.”

“you hate me,” logan said, but he did swallow the pill without complaining, wiggling down under the covers as soon as he was done. once the blankets were yanked up to his chin, he said, “come here.”

“baby, you really need to rest,” ellie murmured, though she still sat down on the edge of the mattress beside him as carefully as she could, reaching out to smooth her hand over his hair again. “you need to get some sleep, okay?”

his eyes went wide and sad. “what did i ever do to make you hate me so much?” logan’s words were starting to slur together again. “all i ever did was love you, a lot, like so much.”

she regarded him fondly as he continued to ramble, her whole body thrumming with affection. logan was impossible to deny on a normal day, but today? all she really wanted was to be close to him, anyway. “okay, drama queen. you win.” 

ellie slipped into the bed beside him as gingerly as possible, taking care not to touch him. part of her was curious about the bandaged wound on his side, but her stomach rolled at just the thought of seeing it up close, the same nauseous mix of fear and dread that’d been so prevalent during her drive down this afternoon returning all at once. 

“so much better,” he sighed, reaching out and grabbing her hand, lacing their fingers together. each word dragged out endlessly again, just like his first baby at the hospital. “i missed you. you’re so pretty.”

“you mentioned that,” she laughed, doing her very best to focus on how cute he was being and not on the fact that he’d almost died earlier today. if she thought about anything other than how different and weird and kind of nice it was to see his silly side, she was going to crack completely. “i missed you, too, baby. i wish we were closer together.”

“wish we were together all the time,” logan said, the sentence broken apart by a yawn that stretched his jaw halfway through. “s’cause you gotta go to school and be smart and do important stuff, i guess.”

“yeah,” ellie murmured. she fell quiet as she studied his expression, and then her lips curved back up into a smile. “we really have to work on making you a trophy husband, asap. no more life-or-death stuff for you.”

“tell me about it,” he hummed, dragging his thumb across the back of her hand. “but i’ll be the best trophy husband ever, el. super dad.”

her teeth bit at her bottom lip. it was probably wrong to take advantage of the fact that he wasn’t exactly himself, but -- “you think about that kind of stuff?”

“duh.” ellie pursed her lips to hold back a grin. the tone of his voice implied it should have been obvious. “you’re the whole world. i wanna do it all with you.”

she shifted closer in the low light of his bedroom, until their knees bumped together under the sheets. logan smiled at her, and she felt her heart skip what was probably an important beat, her pulse stuttering and then picking up again in double time as she watched him from up close.

“i love you.” ellie shut her eyes. despite her best efforts, she knew she was getting emotional. the emotional rollercoaster she’d been on over the last few hours was proving to be overwhelming. she suddenly felt exhausted.

“hey, i love you more. more than... cars. more than indiana jones. more than all the stars in the sky. more than -- oh, more than french fries, ellie. that’s a lot.”

she laughed, the sound morphing into a contented sigh when logan tipped their foreheads together. ellie drew in a deep breath and caught something uniquely him under the scent of the hospital -- antiseptic and sterile alcohol -- something familiar and deep and rich, like the woods and like home, a scent that clung to the inside of his car and all her favorite clothes, following her out to college and everywhere else she went. 

her eyes slowly blinked open. “that is a lot.”

“you’re the best dream,” he mumbled nonsensically, “i hope you’re still here when i wake up.”

ellie stared at him, taking in the way his blinks were slowing down, how his breathing was evening out steadily. she exhaled, finally, forcibly remembering what the staff at the hospital had said and reminding herself how important it was that he got a good night’s sleep. 

logan was okay. everything was going to be fine. she could do this. “of course i’ll still be here,” she promised, lowering her voice to the same hushed whisper. “i’m not going anywhere.”

he shot her one more dreamy smile, but didn’t say anything else. ellie averted her eyes, staring out the window over his head so she could look at the moon, her mind racing. 

eventually, his hand went slack in hers. she still kept their fingers intertwined, and the steady sound of his breathing in the bed beside her finally turned everything still, including her swirling thoughts. 

tonight, they were together -- so that meant there was nothing to worry about.

for now.

[lokissweater]

Little Darling

Soldier!Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Harry falls in love with the pretty nurse that takes care of him during the war.

Warnings: none my bbys :*

Authors Note: oh my god, the response i got from flower boy was insaaane y’all made me cry happy tears for dAYS LMFAO, but honestly thank you so muchhh, and im so sorry i’m been mf gONE i’ve had this and three more drafts in the works and i never got around to finishing them heheh, anyways enjoy!! and if you’ve sent me a request don’t worry i’m also working on that rn and thanks for sending it in! love u! <3

Word Count: 1,998

You had never met anyone like Harry.

“Patient 113! Patient 113!”

Nurses scurried around the small hospital, hundreds of men injured as you hurried your way to the front desk.

“I’ll take him,” You said quickly. “Bring the other ones in.”

You carefully sat him down and wheeled him across the hectic large room and to an open spot.

The side of his face was bloody, and he remained unconscious as doctors lifted his limp body onto the bed. You quickly grabbed gauzes and disinfectants, ridding of the dirt, sweat, and dried up blood off of his face.

“Patients name?” The doctor asked.

You pulled the dog tag from under his uniform and said, “Harry Styles.”

The doctor pressed a stethoscope to his heart and listened, “We have a pulse.”

He then wiped his forehead in exhaustion. “From the looks of it, he took a blow to the head and fell unconscious, but he’ll be fine.” He then hung the tool around his neck. “He’s all yours now y/n, just clean him up and call me when he wakes.”

“Yes sir.”

Then, you hadn’t thought anything of him. Just another patient you anxiously wanted to save because unfortunately the one before, couldn’t be.

But when Harry awoke, his dazed eyes drifted around the room, and once he regained his senses and actually looked at you, he didn’t hesitate to say that you were the most beautiful little thing he had ever seen.

This, of course, made you roll your eyes and blame it on the antibiotics, but he stood by his word and would even go as far as to request for you if a different nurse came to tend to him.

You had grown to love his unruly hair and sense of humor, but most of all, were his eyes. They reminded you of the trees your grandmother used to grow around her small cabin in the middle of no where, and from time to time would pick a sparkling emerald leaf to place gently in your small palm for good luck.

Now every leaf she had ever given you was stowed away in an old jewelry box inside your attic, brittle and brown. But each time you looked into Harry’s eyes, it was as if your childhood never left, as if the leaves never dried out, and as if your grandmother never died.

You spent a great deal of time taking care of him, and as soon as he recovered he took you out on a date by the river; picking small daisies to card gently behind your ear. It was sweet, his cute dimples evident as he smiled at you. The air was fresh and calm, and the sight of Harry on the grass, palms spread behind him with his head tilted back, sun adorning his features, was a sight hard to forget.

He’d always call you his little darling and made sure you were absolutely happy at all times. You were his sunshine, and it wasn’t hard for him to fall in love with you.

All of this was short lived though when you received devastating news. Harry was to be drafted again, and the area was no where near where you were at the moment, meaning if Harry got hurt you wouldn’t be able to treat him.

And if he died, you wouldn’t know until weeks after.

When he told you, you cried your eyes out while he got down on his knees, hands placed firmly on your arms.

“Little darling, hey, don’t you cry,” He wiped the tears off of your puffy cheeks with one hand and sighed. “I’ll come back to you, I promise you baby, don’t you cry.”

“Harry you could die!-”

“I won’t.” He said firmly. “You really think i’d leave you that easily sunshine? You’re gonna have to chase me to the ends of the earth to even give you a minute by yourself.”

That had made you laugh, and he wrapped his arms around you as he stood back up. “I’ll come back. I’ll write to you everyday a-and send you the very first flower I see. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You only nodded into his chest, a soft smile on your face, “I love you.”

Harry tightened his hold around you and rested his chin on top of your head.

“Tell me again,” He whispered. “I want to hear it one more time before I go.”

Harry kept his word and wrote to you as often as he could, but you still spent each and every day worrying for him and his safety. You had taken note of the increasing amount of men that came piling into the small hospital you worked at, and the injuries only seemed to worsen. You’d ask Harry what was going on in your letters, but he’d write back saying that everything was fine, and ultimately change the subject.

“Our men are dying,” One of the nurses had said to you as she patched up an unconscious soldier, “Many won’t come home.”

That made you sick to your stomach, and it didn’t help when after two years since Harry’s departure, his letters abruptly stopped coming soon after. The last one he had sent was dated a month ago, and it read:

Dear y/n,

How are you my little darling? Are you happy and well? I hope you are. I miss your pretty face.

Something tragic happened. My best mate died on field yesterday, and I have never felt such remorse in my entire life. It’s getting harder to stay alive my love, and when I saw his still body in the dirt, all I saw was red.

But I’m still alive. When I woke up this morning I saw a single daisy in the midst of gravel and mud, and it reminded me of you. You’re surrounded by horrible people and an awful environment but you remain brilliant. I’ve never met anyone like you.

If I don’t make it, just know how much I truly, deeply love you, and you’ve made me the happiest man alive. My days with you are memories I’ll never forget.

See you soon baby.

- HS

Below was a small daisy taped carefully onto the bottom of the page, and you cried looking at it once more before folding the letter back up and stuffing it in the pocket of your uniform.

“Any news?” One of the nurses said. Another sighed and shook her head.

“All radios are down. No one knows a thing.”

“Its been almost a full day,” You mumbled. “I think we’ve lost the war.”

A gloom of realization spread across the room, nurses and doctors with a defeated expression. It was silent, and everyone seemed to zone out until one of your close friends sat herself down on a chair next to you.

“Has he written?” She whispered.

“No. I’m starting to think-”

“Don’t say it,” She scooted closer to you. “He’s okay and you know it. You’re his sunshine, remember?”

You smiled sadly, “I do, but he hasn’t written in a month.”

“Maybe he can’t find paper,” She shrugged. “Or a pen.”

“Maybe he’s-”

“We won! We won the war!”

Everyone abruptly stood, chairs screeching against the tile floor. You quickly ran down the hall along with other nurses and into a different room. Others were already hunched over a small table that held a working radio.

“Our men are coming home!”

Cheers and cries filled the air, and you stood frozen as many wrapped their arms around you in joy.

Word was that the veterans were to return in a train arriving in about an hour, and you wasted no time in slipping on your jacket and running with many others to the station. You couldn’t even be bothered to remove your uniform, the love of your life was finally coming home.

Upon arrival, people were buzzing with anticipation and happiness. Personal space didn’t seem to be a thing as everyone waited for the train to pull in, and once it did, the shouting commenced.

Man after man came hopping out of the train, beaten up expressions but nonetheless with a smile on their faces, yet none of them were Harry. You stood on your tippy toes to get a better look, but you were still overrun by the people in front of you.

You couldn’t help but smile as you saw a woman with two kids clutching onto a soldier next to you, their children’s small arms wrapped around their father’s legs. You thanked your lucky stars that at least they got their happy ending, and pushed yourself through the crowd to get to the front.

It became apparent after a little while though, that you may not have gotten your happy ending. As the area dispersed and became empty, your vision blurred with tears. You couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to believe it.

He said he’d come back, you thought.

A gust of wind blew through your hair, and you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself for comfort and for warmth. You screwed your eyes shut and tilted your head back, tear drops slipping into your hair. In the midst of feeling the warm sun caress your face, you imagined Harry calling out to you in the distance, calling you his little darling again just like he’d done many times before.

Except you hadn’t.

When you opened your eyes, a tall figure stood a couple feet away from you, and you rid your eyes from the remaining tears to see who it was.

“H-Harry?”

He smiled warmly at you, tears pricking the corner of his eyes.

When he got off the train, the sight of you standing there, wind whirling through your hair with your head tilted back; sun adorning your features and a pained expression, was a sight hard to forget.

But as he looked at you now, doe eyes wide that gleamed of hope and disbelief, the days out on field and the awful deserts meant nothing to him. The days of treterous fear, the cold nights where he felt nothing but alone, meant absolutely nothing to him.

But you, you meant everything to him.

“Hey little darling.” He said gently, fingers reaching out to touch yours. The warmth that radiated from your hand brought him back to reality and reassured him that he wasn’t dreaming.

At his words, you breathed out a laugh and threw your arms around his neck, and Harry in response scooped you up off the ground, taking note of the familiar strawberry scented shampoo you always used.

“I thought you died,” you whispered in his ear.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily baby cakes.” He said playfully, kissing your cold cheek.

You laughed and pulled your head back to look at him. He looked as handsome as you remembered, but he looked so worn out. The bags under his eyes and slow blinking clearly indicated that he was exhausted, and you smiled warmly, softly kissing his cheek.

“Let’s go home.”

Home.

What he’d been waiting for. The place he wanted to share with you, the place where he wanted to wake up and one day find the smell of pancakes and honey smothering your shared bedroom, and maybe, just maybe, with two little hands grabbing at his face to get him to wake up.

He nodded at you then, fingers laced with yours as you walked along the train station. The setting sunlight highlighted Harry’s green eyes; and they were soft, looking out into the streets ahead of you that held nothing but love yet still vigilant, and you were reminded of your grandmother once more.

“Harry?” you called suddenly.

“Yes, little darling?”

“How come you didn’t write to me these last few months?”

He smiled at you lazily and gently brushed your hair over your shoulder, running a soothing hand over your lower back.

“Couldn’t find paper, my love.” He hummed, “Or a damn pen.”

[mukamibabe]

How would the S boys to her S/O dying when giving birth? (Pretty sad ask xD) (Your blog looks very cute

death tw?? suicidal thoughts tw?? honestly idk how to tag tws but it’s a sad one, ok??? and also under a cut because it’s very long. thank you for requesting!! your blog looks very cute, too ^^

Shu: 

• obviously, he’s devastated.. he always knew it was a possibility, but.. if he thought the chances were high, he would’ve never gotten her pregnant

• and honestly.. he’s not sure if he can take it. he.. fell in love with his s/o, and married his s/o. yeah, this baby is made from both of them but… he never planned to do it alone

• like any person, he starts off with the stages of grief, and he’s in denial. no.. she can’t be dead, that’s.. that’s impossible..!

• he embraces his baby, staring down at them, as tears started to drop. even if they didn’t look like the mother, it’s the only thing that shu can see. 

• he sets the baby down, his eyes red, still in shock and he goes back to his s/o’s cold, lifeless body. 

• is this.. this is the last time he’ll ever see her again.. just hours before, they were happy, and in love and the thought of this happening never crossed his mind

• …how.. could this happen to him..? he can’t raise this baby on their own; especially not in this state

• he looks miserable. he never expected to lose someone so close to him yet again.. and he can’t help but wonder if their baby is going to die, too

• he even wonders if the baby is better off without him; he just doesn’t think he’s going to make it, and he thinks that the baby is better off with another family.. a family that isn’t so… messed up.

• i’m sure he does keep the baby, and as time passes, he’ll realize that this baby needs him

• and he will never let anyone hurt them, because now.. the only thing this baby has is him

• and he knows it’s going to be hard, and it’s going to be painful.. but for the sake of their child’s happiness.. and the love for his s/o that still remains in his heart, he knows it must be done.

Reiji:

• that.. can’t be…? that’s.. he… he made sure that this wouldn’t of happened..

• well.. not only did he just lose the love of his life, the one that made him feel love, something so foreign to him, he also failed.. he failed to keep his s/o alive. 

• and.. now what? now what is he supposed to do? he can’t just.. take the baby and go.. right…?

• i mean, he was nervous at first because.. giving birth can be a scary thing, but he never would’ve thought anything like this would’ve happened

• he messed up, and this is all his fault. his baby… they’re the reason why she’s gone. 

• he doesn’t want to blame anybody, because.. it’s no one’s fault, but he just.. can’t believe it 

• he refuses to let anyone near his dead s/o, or their baby. yeah.. this.. this is their fault she’s dead- not the babies fault, and not his fault.

• he’s gently holding the baby in his arms, but does not yet bother to even look at them. he’s just extremely upset about his s/o being dead

• he really wants to love his baby.. no, their baby, but it just seems so impossible.

• after taking the baby home with him, he just feels so lost.. he’s glad that his baby is here but his wife.. his wife. who is he going to wake up and look at every morning? and what about the sweet kisses, and the happiness, and all the love his wife gave him..?

• his baby.. he knows over time, he’ll feel happy with them but… it won’t ever be the same. even if he found a new person in his life, it will never be the same. and he doesn’t.. want to go through this again.

• he promises to not let his anger and fear get to him, for the sake of his child.

Ayato: 

• what.. the fuck?

• there’s no way she’s dead- she’s.. she chose me, she can’t just die that easily!

• poor ayato probably just leaves his baby and is smacking his s/o’s face, desperately begging for her to stay

• also, assuming there’s more people in the room other than his baby and his wife,,, he might end up either killing someone, or just.. hurting them really bad

• he’s feeling so sad, and he feels so weak so of course,, he has to let everyone know he’s still in control

• ayato may even blame it on the baby for a little bit, and refuses to touch it, or look at it. 

• he knows it’s his and his wife’s child together but.. if this baby didn’t exist, his s/o would still be alive

• he knows it’s harsh, and yeah he knows it’s kind of his fault because.. she didn’t produce the baby on her own but… it’s the baby’s fault

• either someone knocks some sense into ayato, or ayato just comes to realize himself that.. that’s his child.

• and.. all of those dreams he had with his s/o about starting a family? it can still happen, but instead.. it’s just going to be him and his baby

• maybe even his uncles..? …or maybe not because some of them are shitty, but..-

• obviously, it still bothers him, and it’s always going to. but, grief works differently for everyone, and ayato.. he’s not used to this feeling, so he’s going to take it out on people. i think about maybe 4 months in, he’ll fully come to realize that it’s just the two of them, and ayato’s going to be the best parent his child could ever have.

Kanato: 

• no? no she’s not dead, you’re lying! you guys are all stupid, she’s not dead!!

• honestly, even seeing her body just.. lay there, dead and lifeless, he refuses to believe it. 

• and like ayato, he has to blame someone for their s/o’s death, and he decides it’s the doctor’s fault (assuming that there was a doctor,, or nurse)

• once.. that’s all out of the way, he turns to his baby, and looks down at them as he holds teddy in his harms.

• “this is your fault. you know that? because of you.. your mother is dead..!”

• and.. now he’s back to stage 1 and is screaming and destroying everything in his way

• honestly i hope someone’s in there with him because..?? if not… it’s a disaster.

• by someone, i mean one of his brothers, or maybe even a relative of his s/o’s or something? 

• also, he still hasn’t touched his baby yet. after more screaming, kanato heads over to his s/o, and begins talking to her. 

• just things like, oh, you look so beautiful.. .fufu.. i didn’t think.. you would become my doll yet but…

• and then he starts crying- and then more destruction.

• his baby.. well, it might work out if someone pushes him but otherwise..? bye!! never wanted you anyways

Laito:

• wait.. no? that’s.. that’s not funny, don’t say that-

• omg.. no no non on on n on on o

• i don’t know how to explain this, but basically starts having a mental breakdown, just with out.. the physical aspects..?

• all of the real love he shared with her.. she taught him how to love.. she taught him what real love is, and he was scared at first because.. he didn’t want to lose her, but he didn’t think he’d lose her like this..

• this baby; it was made from love, and all of the joy that he felt inside his chest whenever he was with her.. so how..? how could.. the universe..? just take her away from him like that?

• she… she was his everything; and everything they planned to do with their future.. it all just disappeared. because she’s gone, and now she’s never coming back.

• so.. what now..? everything just feels so… pointless. he finally had felt true love and happiness, and with in seconds.. it just ended. was there even a point to living such a pathetic life anymore?

• well.. his baby… their baby.. what’s he supposed to do, now..? can he really be a good parent for them…?

• there’s no way.. he… he can never be a good parent.. he doesn’t even know what to do,, and his s/o… his s/o’s gone, and now he’s going to be very very very unstable for a while and.. his.. baby…

• would the baby really be better off with him..? he asks himself, tears starting to fall from his beautiful green eyes. he holds his baby tightly, and just begins to sob.

• it’s hard to tell as of now, but they look so much like her… is he really able to do this without her? 

• of course, he can.. and months after, he slowly starts to recover, knowing it’s best for his and his baby’s health. besides, it’s what she would’ve wanted..

Subaru:

• ?? no ??? she’s.. she’s not dead?? look, i’ll even feel her..- oh..

• his eyes are wide, eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at his s/o, he sees her peaceful, lifeless expression. letting out a strangled noise, he starts to cry. 

• “i knew.. i knew you never should’ve…-”

• he can’t even speak because he feels so horrible.. this.. is his fault.

• his s/o.. this wouldn’t have even happened if he only stayed away from his s/o.. damn it… how could he let this happen? to such an innocent girl, who had fallen in love with him.. and he just… kills her…?

• he eventually has to move away from his s/o because the more he looks at his s/o.. the more his thoughts start to just.. go crazy.

• all of that hard work of loving himself.. just evaporates. he wants to die. he knows he has a baby to take care of but… are they really going to be okay in his care?

• he.. he can’t be a bad father; he doesn’t want to be.. but there’s just that thought that sticks with him that he will never be good enough to take care of them.

• he immediately cuts off his thoughts, his paternal instinct kicking in. he rushes over to his baby, wiping his tears as he gently held his baby, stroking their small little face with his finger.

• does he know how to parent? no.. he’s done a little bit of studying with his s/o but… to do things without her just sounds so much harder. 

• and yeah, it’s probably going to be, but.. he wants his baby to be happy. and in order to give them that happiness, he’s going to have to work hard to be a good father to them.

• it sucks that his s/o isn’t there to raise their child together but.. he can do this.. it’s what they need. he’s is never going to be a bad parent. never.

[thepunisher]

A Bottle Marked ‘Poison’

Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes | E | 9428 words | 2/? | 

ao3 link 

Summary: The headstones are clean and well preserved and surrounded by fresh, colorful flowers when he reaches them. Not lilies, never lilies. But roses and sunflowers and violets. Someone has been taking care of them for years. (Not him. He can’t even take care of himself.) There’s names and dates and pictures. There’s quotes. Beloved mother. He has a split lip, his eye is a nasty shade of purple and he’s still nursing three bruised ribs. Somehow this hurts more. OR On the anniversary of their deaths, Tony visits his parents’ graves. He has an unexpected encounter. Things go downhill from there.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Longing

I take no joy in mead nor meat, and song and laughter have become suspicious strangers to me. I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings.

There is an empty place within me where my heart was once.  

George RR Martin, A Clash of Kings

He debates a long time on whether or not he should go. He doesn't want to, of course. Just the thought has him jittery, anxiety buzzing under his skin like electricity, leg bouncing up and down non-stop. And yet it's not like he really has a choice.

When the walls of the workshop start closing in on him, sight going fuzzy around the edges, the decision is made for him. He throws the screwdriver he was fidgeting with on the work table, metal hitting the surface with a clang he doesn't even register because he's already out of the door.

The Mansion is austere and sterile, ghosts haunting every square metre of it.

Tony hates it. He hates the smell of it, the silence, the absolute lack of indication that someone is actually living here. He hates every damn stupid knick knack littering every available surface so much sometimes it's hard not to shove them all on the floor and watch them break in a thousand little pieces.

He hates that two decades later he still can't find the courage to go past the doors of the master bedroom. Can only look at his mother's perfume sitting on her vanity from afar, bottle left opened, pearls scattered near her brush.

He couldn't really move in his old room, the one of his childhood, of his teenage years. The one with stupid posters of his stupid heroes on the walls and a closet stuffed full of useless trophies that never amounted to anything. Too many memories and too many disappointments there. He took for himself one of the guest rooms. He thinks it's somewhat fitting, considering he's a guest in his own home.

It's a house but it feels more like a golden prison and he's been sentenced for life.

(He committed too many crimes he needs to atone for, he deserves it.)

He could take up and leave of course, like he left the tower, like he left the ruins of Malibu, like he left the compound. Tony Stark is good at leaving broken things behind him.

But to go where? He started over many times before and always ended up empty handed anyway. Resilient, yes, but there's nowhere in the world where his demons wouldn't follow, so the Mansion is as good a place as any.

He's doing fine, really.

(His life is a long line of fine.)

Christmas, though. Christmas he doesn't know how to deal with, perhaps he never has, never learned how to.

It's never been his favorite holiday, not even when his parents were still alive. Other children would spend the night waiting for Santa, he would be waiting for Howard and Maria to come home from whatever gala or party or get away they'd gone to, Jarvis, and Ana before she passed, his only company.

His mother would always look apologetic whenever they got back. She would caress his hair and kiss his cheek and tuck him into bed, her voice soft while singing an italian lullaby.

Jarvis would try his best to make the house as festive as possible, and Christmas’ eves were always spent making cookies and reminiscing stories of aunt Peggy’s adventures, and Christmas mornings were always spent unwrapping a pile of presents that would never make up for the indifference.

The first few days of January he would always be shipped back to boarding school, his belly fuller and his gaze emptier, head filled with words of inadequacy and sweet nothings.

He found Jarvis’ Christmas decorations in a closet, stored with other junk, while setting up Friday’s eyes and ears. He thought for a long time whether or not to make an effort and put some around the house, stared for even longer at a Christmas ball he had made with mechanical parts when he was six. Howard had been pissed at the waste, but Jarvis had looked so proud he's displayed it right at the front of the tree, nevermind that it clashed with the rest of the golden and red ornaments.

He didn't throw everything away, but it was a close call.

(Perhaps he is nostalgic after all.)

Still, there was no reason to put them around. No reason for oversized bunnies, either. And so the house is quiet, no trees, no lights, no presents. No people to celebrate with.

He could go on another 72 hours tinkering binge, his go-to way of spending this time of the year, so many things to do after all, but Rhodey would probably come over just to kick his ass, and he can't have Rhodey worry over him. He deserves a break.

The invitation came over a week ago, by phone, mail and text. Rhodey really wants him to go and he won't accept a no for an answer. Tony can take a hint.

He's gotten into his head that he'll smooth down all the wrinkles on his own. He's putting a lot of effort into making this whole team thing work, and that's really the only reason why Tony is gonna show up at all.

He should take the car, rather than fly in, but really, as an escape vehicle, his suit is much faster than his Audi.

And Tony is pretty sure that he'll want to escape sooner rather than later.

The flight over goes by in a blur, one thought chasing after the other too fast for his mind to linger. He has no recollection of it whatsoever.

The sky is white and the atmosphere feels charged when he lands on the roof of the compound. It hasn't started snowing yet, but it's gonna happen any minute now. Everyone has been predicting a white Christmas.

The suit disassembles and reassembles behind him in a matter of seconds and a crisp cold engulfs him so suddenly he staggers. He should have taken a coat with him, but he wasn't exactly thinking properly, leaving in a hurry before he could change his mind. Again.

The insulation system he installed after he almost froze to death works so well he never even noticed the temperature while in the air, and yet now that he is, it's easy for his mind to travel thousands of miles. For a moment he loses focus of the structure, of the gardens, of the trees around him, of the Quinjet parked in the front courtyard, and the only thing he can hear is the sound of crunching metal, no white pavement, but frozen ground under his feet. His hand moves to his chest before he can even process it, and he finds himself exhaling slowly only when he feels the arc reactor humming under his fingers. Whole.

Rationality is the first thing to go out of the window when you panic, and they say that you should make an effort to bring it back, as it's your best tool to fight anxiety, that you should explain to your brain that there's no reason to be scared.

(Bullshit.)

It's hard to reason when reason also screams that this is a terrible idea, and he should not have come.

It's not too late to tuck in tail and leave, but he doesn't. He pats down his hair instead, thankful it's so short so it's probably not too messy, and hopes that there's no engine grease on his rumpled clothes.

The Iron Man follows him down inside the compound like a quiet shadow, before parking itself in a hidden niche.

There are a few people around the building, operatives who work for the Avengers and keep things in check, run lesser risk operations, keep the world spinning.

Tony waves at them whenever he crosses them in the hallways, Christmas trees and lights and decorations making the place look more alive than he's seen it in a very long time.

It's been almost a month since he last made an appearance. He's been upstate less and less since it got crowded again, any excuse good enough to stay as far away as he could.

(Sorry, super important SI meeting, Pepper would kill me if I missed it; oops, launch of a new product; you see, I have this thing, and it's much more convenient if I just stay over at the Mansion.)

It never felt like home. Not really. Not after they defeated Ultron, and he would stroll in sometimes, bringing tech as presents and basking in a camaraderie that always had him feeling like a guest in his own property. Definitely not after all that was left of the Avengers were him and Rhodey and Vision, and the silence would echo across the hallways.

(Home is where the heart is, and he doesn't have one.)

“I'm so glad you came, Tones,” says Rhodey the moment he enters the common dining area, and enveloping him in a hug.

Tony allows himself to soak in the moment and hugs him back so tightly his bruised ribs protest. He doesn't care.

Too soon he lets go, his eyes darting fast across the room, taking in the scene in a matter of seconds.

It seems like a century ago that they were all here discussing the Accords, the quiet before the storm, the beginning of the end. The place doesn't even look the same anymore. He tore it down and built it over after Wanda and Vision’s little accident, but every inch of it is burned into his retina like a scar and it's not gray marble he stands on, shiny and whole, but a gaping hole that reaches the foundations; it's not scattered people chatting and a table overfilled with food around him, but too many empty chairs.

(None of them look the same. They're all strangers under friendly disguises.)

He told everyone that the new look and the new furniture were necessary for structural reasons, but the truth is that it was too painful to walk past those rooms everyday and be constantly reminded of what had been and what no longer was.

(Some gaping holes you can't fill.)

“Oh, I wouldn't have missed it for the world, Rhode-Bear,” Tony replies nonchalant and he feels like snickering when Rhodey rolls his eyes in the exasperated way that is only reserved for him.

He looks good. Steadier than he was even the last time he saw him. He's standing on his own, one arm propped casually on a piece of furniture as an afterthought, as if he doesn't really need it.

Tony studies him like an hawk. Guilt clawing at his insides cause he should have made an effort, he should have come more often and not just to check on the braces. He shouldn't have stayed away so much just cause the prospect of facing the others feels like sandpaper across his skin.

He takes in Rhodey’s relaxed pose, his brown eyes free of the uneasiness Tony got so used to seeing after the fall and hated with every fibre of his being. His shoulders are not clenched in an effort to handle the pain, physical and not, he knows Rhodey felt for months.

Tony hopes the hand squeezing Rhodey’s shoulder, and his half but sincere smile can convey all the words he will never be able to tell him. All the love he will never be able to express.

“I was so sure I was going to have to come and drag you here,” Rhodey says, his tone only half joking, and Tony thinks of the half dozen messages of empty excuses he composed on his phone and deleted before he could send them. “I'm really happy you came, man.”

“Yeah, well…” He rubs behind his neck. “It's Christmas.”

“That, it is,” Rhodey says, before narrowing his eyes. “So would you mind telling me what happened to your face? What's with the black eye and the lip job, Tony. What the hell.”

“What, this?” Tony gestures towards the bruises. Shit. He should have put on concealer or something. “I was just sparring with Happy. I got a little distracted and he got carried away. That man has a surprisingly mean hook.”

Rhodey scoffs. ”Yeah, nice try. Too bad Happy is in California with Pepper right now. Has been for two weeks, in fact. Wanna try again?”

Tony winches. He wonders how long it would take to call his suit to him and run, and if that would be considered rude. Probably. Nevermind that Rhodey would just hop on the War Machine and follow him, and he would never hear the end of it.

“Uhm. Funny story,” Tony says, putting some distance between them, hand scratching his nose. “I ran into a door.”

He can see Carol chatting with Wanda, Sam and Vision from the corner of his eye. His heart speeds up a little. He knows that not all of them are going to be here, some of them are celebrating with their families and other people. Some of them moved on.

(He hasn't.)

He thinks he can spot Natasha and Peter behind the tree, but he's not sure. Rogers is nowhere in sight. Nor is his friend.

When he turns to face Rhodey again, he meets the most unimpressed stare. “And what? You didn't apologize so it hit you again?”

Tony giggles. God, he missed this. Missed him. He feels his shoulders sag a little in relief. This is familiar. He can do this.

“It was a very aggressive door. You wouldn't believe it. I'm thinking I'm gonna sue,” he says.

Rhodey pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, you show it who's the boss.”

“Exactly!”

“Tony,” Rhodey says, tone serious again. “I wanna know what's going on with you, okay? I wanna help. I'm here for you, you know. Whatever it is you're doing, you don't have to do it alone.”

It's hard to meet his eyes. God, he's such an asshole. He doesn't deserve Rhodey.

“I'm not doing anything, I promise,” he says, and it'd be convincing to anyone else but Rhodey knows him better. “Okay, okay. But it’s not like I started a fight club! I'm not doing anything dangerous. Better?”

“I'm more worried about you doing something stupid.”

Tony sneers. “Come on. When was the last time I did something stupid?”

“Oh, I don't know. What time is it?”

“Abuse!” Tony cries. “I will not stand by and be insulted. I'll have you know I made the list of the fifty most influential people on the planet for what? The eighth year in a row?” He polishes his nails on his shirt. “That's eight more times than you did, by the way. How is that for stupid?”

When he looks up, Rhodey is still staring unimpressively.

“You do know I'm the leader of this team right?”

Tony fakes a gasp, his hand moving in a clutching-pearls gesture. “What? When did that happen? I can't believe this!” He shakes his head, drops the pretense. “I was kinda there for it, you know? Wholeheartedly supported the idea, in fact, though I'm starting to regret it. You don't need to remind me every three seconds, I get it! You're the leader of the Avengers, sir, yes, sir. It's too bad your girlfriend outranks you, really...”

Rhodey sighs. “Yeah, you can drop the attitude, Mr Stank, cause I never will. I'm gonna find out what's going on, sooner or later.” He points his index at Tony.  “You know I will. And when I do, I will kick your sorry as--”

“Mr Stark! Mr Stark!” Peter calls from across the room, making them both turn. “Merry Christmas, Mr Stark!”

“Nice to see you again, Tony,” says Carol, beautiful in a dark blue oversized cardigan and jeans, as she and Peter make their way towards them and Tony is so grateful for the distraction he can't stop himself from sighing in relief.

“Hey there, kid,” he says, ruffling Peter's hair.  He's wearing an ugly Christmas sweater and a happy expression on his face, like a child in a candy store.

“Carol. Always a pleasure.” He smiles, kisses her cheek.

“So,” he rubs his hands together. “What have you been up to?”

“Not much,” Carol says, inching towards Rhodey and resting her hand on his shoulder. Tony can see Rhodey’s whole demeanor lighting up, like a sunflower basking in the sun. It puts the first real smile on Tony’s face. “Things have been blessedly quiet.”

“Don't jinx it,” says Rhodey, eyes soft.

“How about you, kid? Helped any old lady cross the street lately?” Tony asks Peter.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” Peter replies. “I don't just help old ladies,” he mumbles grudgingly, almost too low to hear.

“You're adorable,” says Tony. “Is that Green... Elf. Whatever. Is he been giving you any trouble?”

“You've been listening to my reports?” Peter asks in a happily surprised tone, eyes huge.

“Well, duh. When have I ever stopped?” He raises an eyebrow. “So? Do I need to be concerned?”

“Uh. No. No, Mr Stark,” says Peter fast. “I have everything under control! And it's Goblin. Green Goblin.”

“Pfff,” Tony waves his hand. “Goblin, Elf. Same difference. He still looks stupid. You listen to me, kid. Anything goes south, you call me, okay? I don't want you out there alone. Again.”

“Oh, please, Tony,” interrupts Rhodey. “Peter is much more responsible than you'll ever be. And he knows who to call when he's in trouble. Which is me. Am I right?” He gives Peter a meaningful look.

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir,” Peter blushes.

“See? Adorable,” Tony says. “Now leave him alone, I got him first. Go play mama hen with some other kid. This one is mine.”

Carol laughs at the two of them while Rhodey sputters and Peter gets more scarlet.

For a second Tony almost thinks that everything is going to be okay.

“It's good to see you, Tony,” says Rogers then, appearing behind Peter, and it's like someone poured frozen water over Tony’s head. “It's been a while.”

He's carrying two enormous plates, one in each hand. His hair is longer than the short, practical style Tony was used to see him sport, combed back, curling under his nape. There's an easy smile, almost shy, half hidden behind his beard. He's wearing a sweater almost as ugly as Peter's, with maroon reindeers with red noses.

Tony feels like his limbs have suddenly turned into lead, and they're too heavy for him to move. It takes a couple of seconds to put a smile back on his own face, and he's pretty sure it looks forced despite his best effort. “Cap,” he says, and it sounds strained even to his ears. He shoves one hand inside the pocket of his pants. “Well, you know how it is. Companies to run, millions to make, and all that.”

Everyone is quiet around them, almost like they're waiting for a bomb to go off.

(It already exploded. They're all wounded beyond saving.)

“Right,” says Rogers, and his face falls a little. “Yeah, you're busy, I know. It's just…” He juggles with the plates for a second before finding a balance. He eyes Tony’s bruises and Tony sees him hesitate, the words he means to say at the tip of his tongue. “Well, I'm glad you're here today,” he says, in the end. “I better put these down before I make a mess.” He smiles again, though it looks a little tighter, before heading towards the table.

There's a small awkward silence that no one is fast enough to fill.

That went well, Tony thinks, when he remembers to start breathing again.

He's still in a haze when he realises that Barnes is looming a few feet away from them, arms crossed over his chest. When he meets Tony's eyes, he nods. Tony blinks a couple of times before nodding back.

When he looks around he sees everyone exchange nervous glances. A couple of them sigh audibly.

“Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving,” proclaims Rhodey. “Let's get this party started.”

~~~~~~~

He doesn't think anyone notices when he slips out. Rhodey and Carol are sitting on the same sofa, almost no space between them and there's a smile on Rhodey’s face Tony hasn't seen in a very long time. A smile that he never thought he would see again. It hurts deep inside Tony's chest, almost like it's getting a little hard to breathe, and if he stumbles so hard he needs the wall to steady himself, he's already in the hallway and it's nobody's business.

When he makes it to the roof, it's to find it already covered in white, his shoes leaving prints behind. It's been snowing for hours now.

It's cold and not for the first time he regrets not having taken a coat with him. He's sure he must have one or ten in his apartment here at the compound, but he hasn't set foot in there in a while, and he doesn't really want to.

He reaches the railing and stops, rests both hands on the granite, and it's like whatever force was holding him upright is failing him. He closes his eyes and breathes in the quiet, lets the air, sharp and brisk, fill his lungs.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but he still feels emotionally drained. There's an undercurrent of distrust between them all that it seems they're all politely agreeing to ignore for the sake of making things work. He doesn't know if he should be grateful for that or not, but he sure is grateful for Clint’s absence. And for Peter and Carol’s presence.

He wouldn't have made it without them acting as a buffer. He felt his heart constrict in his chest each time Rogers attempted to start a conversation, his jaw hurts from biting his teeth down too hard.

Someday in the future, perhaps, when he'll have made peace with himself and they'll have made peace with each other, someday, he'll be ‘Steve’ again, and calling him ‘Cap’ will roll off Tony’s tongue without faltering first. Not today though. Today he's an empty vessel filled with brashness and good manners.

Today his wound is still festering.

He doesn't know how long he stays like that, the grass that surrounds the building is slowly but steadily being covered by an inch of snow and it's sort of hypnotic to watch. The sky is whiter than ever, despite it being late afternoon and his breath is coming out in small puffs of smoke when he feels like he got himself under control.

He used to love snow, back when he was a kid. He was never allowed to go out and play with it, never really had anyone to play with either, that was a privilege that belonged to other kids, kids that were free. But he could watch. He'd see children throwing snowballs and building snowmen and he would long for that, his brain supplying faster trajectories and aerodynamic shapes.  

Those fantasies disappeared the older he got, but the longing never really did. The longing of belonging.

(He never truly belonged anywhere and anyone who ever belonged to him left him behind.)

Tony cups his palms to his mouth and blows on them, uselessly trying to warm them up a little, his fingers numb. He should go back inside. He doesn't want to.

“You're gonna catch a cold,” says a voice from somewhere to his right and he's not proud of the high pitched sound that comes out of his lips.

Instinct has him strucking his hands out in defense as he turns around looking for threats. He made the mistake of assuming he was safe.

“Jesus Christ,” he exhales when he spots Barnes. He's sitting on the floor leaning to the railing, head tilted back, elbows resting on his knees, eyes closed. There's snow on his hair, some strands are wet. The top of his black henley appears soaked.

“Nah, just me,” says Barnes cheekily.

How long has he been there?

He finds himself walking towards him and he stops when he's only a few feet away. A few seconds ago he was almost all the way across the terrace. He doesn't remember moving.

“I do have a heart condition, you know,” Tony says, and he drums his fingers over his chest, hearing the glass ticking. Something flashes behind his eyes and suddenly he's back in Siberia again, Barnes digging his metal digits into the arc reactor of the suit, the uni beam ripping his arm off in one clean shot. He shakes his head to clear it, stumbling back, he hits the concrete railing behind him, and he looks up, wary that Barnes might have noticed, but Barnes hasn't moved at all.

Barnes snorts and it takes him a second to remember that he said something to prompt that reaction.

Tony narrows his eyes, angry at his own stupidity. Angry that his heart is beating too fast. Embarrassed that he allowed himself to be vulnerable when he should have been the least. That past and present collide every time he forgets to breathe and he doesn't know how to stop one from pouring into the other.

(He doesn't know how to live.)

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” he says. “Or we gotta stop meeting period, really. I'm good with either.”

Barnes says nothing, but Tony could swear his lips are twitching a little. He was not joking, not really. It hurts to see him.

He spent almost the entire week thinking about their last encounter, musing over all the things he should have done differently, all the words he should have said instead. He doesn't want to acknowledge any of it.

He's stuck in a limbo. He wants to move on but he can't get past it. It's not fair.

(It's not fair to either of them.)

“Are you following me?” Tony asks, cause it can't really be another coincidence. Whatever deity who loves to play games with his life wouldn't be this cruel.

Barnes looks up at that, one eyebrow raised. Someone should have gotten him a razor for Christmas, his face seems to always be sporting some kind of permanent stubble. There's snowflakes on his lashes as well, his eyes are really blue. “I was here first, actually. Are you following me?”

It's Tony's turn to snort.

He's the last person he wants to be alone with. Well, perhaps Rogers takes that gold medal, but Barnes comes a close second.

(Untrue. It's himself he doesn't want to be alone with, but there's nothing he can do about that.)

He came to the roof to regroup, to get himself together. He should have gone to his workshop, in hindsight that was clearly a much smarter idea. Less risk of running into people he'd rather avoid there. But he did actually need some air, and the workshop is filled with half abandoned projects he's been putting off for too long. He doesn't need a reminder of all the things he's yet to do. Of all he should come back to.

The wind is whipping Barnes’ hair around his face, and Tony registers for the first time that Barnes is not wearing a coat either.

“What's with you and your aversion for jackets?” he asks, remembering he was wearing just a hoodie back at the cemetery as well. “You know, those things you use when it's cold? Ever heard of them?” He shivers, rubbing his hands together to no avail. The temperature doesn't seem to be affecting Barnes at all, despite the fact that he must have sat there under the snow for far longer than Tony figures.

“You mean those heavy things that keep you warm? Pretty sure we had those last century too,” Barnes replies, tone dry. Asshole thinks he's funny, wonderful.

“Guess it's one of the perks of being a super soldier,” Tony mutters.

Barnes shrugs.

Tony turns to face the garden again, leaning forwards, elbows resting on the railing. He spots Peter throwing a snowball to Sam before taking cover behind a tree, Wanda using her powers to hit Vision with much more snow than is usually polite. Vision doesn't seem too upset as it goes right through him. “That's cheating!” Wanda screams, laughter in her voice.

“I don't mind the cold,” Barnes says, voice so soft, Tony almost misses it. “Reminds me of cryo. Cryo meant peace for me.” He lets out a long exhale. “There were no missions in cryo.”

Tony doesn't know what to say to that, so he says nothing.

He wonders if Barnes has any other reason for disclosing such truths other than to unsettle him. If he's even aware that he's doing it. That he's baring himself to a stranger. A stranger who tried to kill him.

When he angles his face to see him, he finds that Barnes hasn't moved, head still tilted back, eyes still closed. Hair and shirt wetter.

“Why didn't you stay in cryo then?” he asks, not sure why. “In Wakanda, I mean.”

“That… that wasn't really my decision.”

“Steve,” Tony says, cause it's not really a question. He already knows the answer.

“I guess the world needed me.” Barnes shrugs again. “Well, they needed my... talents.”

Tony is quiet for a while. He thinks back at the battle with Thanos, at the world disintegrating under their feet. At the certainty that they wouldn't have made it. That he'd disappointed them all cause he hadn't tried hard enough, he hadn't planned ahead enough, despite knowing what was coming. Despite having felt it in his bones.

“What about now?” he says eventually. Thinking that if it was him, if he had a way to turn it all off to find even some semblance of serenity, he would go on his knees and beg for it.

Barnes brow furrows. “Why don't I go back to cryo?”

“Yeah.”

It's a while before Barnes replies. He turns his head away when he does, gaze distant. “I thought about it. I think about it a lot actually. It's not like the world really needs me anymore. No one really needs me.”

Tony makes a sound at that. “Pretty sure your buddy would disagree.”

Barnes shakes his head, wet strands falling in front of his eyes. “Stevie doesn't understand. He's still waiting for his best friend and that man is dead. He’s been dead for a very long time.”

“Why don't you then?”

Barnes’ lips twist in a parody of a smile. “Guess that would make a lot of people happy, wouldn't it?”

Tony stays quiet. He thinks about it. Would it?

Not having to see him would certainly be easier for him, but it wouldn't change much of anything at all. His parents would still be dead. Steve would still have lied.

Barnes looks at his hands. “I've… I've killed a lot of people. I don't even know how many. I've been Hydra’s puppet for a very long time. Nothing will ever take that back. There's no undoing the things I've done.”

When he meets Tony’s eyes, there's no hiding the depth of his sorrow.

(It's like looking in a mirror.)

“I can't go to sleep. I don't think I… I can't go to sleep.”

I don't think I deserve it , Tony thinks. That's what he meant to say, he doesn't know how but he's sure of it.

Tony opens his mouth to say something. He doesn't know what yet, but he feels like he has to say something.

“There you are, Buck! I've been looking all over for you,” comes from behind them, and Tony jerks upright as if burned. When he turns around he finds Rogers standing at the door.

The moment Rogers spots him, Tony can see his friendly expression turn into one of confusion, then concern, eyes darting from Tony to Barnes before settling on Tony.

“Hey, Tony,” he says, tentative. “I thought you already left.”

He turns to Barnes, gaze assessing. “Everything alright?” he asks, and it's stupid but the two words hurt Tony more than they have any right to, more than he expects them to, despite the fact that he knew they were coming.

Rogers doesn't trust them to be alone together. It's fair. But it's a reminder that something between the two of them is fundamentally broken.

Some broken things you can fix, assembling the pieces if you can find them all, and gluing them back together. Some will still work, as good as new, but they will always carry the cracks like scars. In some, the water will find a way to filter through those cracks, and they'll be whole, but not whole .

Which ones will they be?

(The glue is still drying for them. Soon they'll know.)

“As a matter of fact, I was just leaving,” Tony says, and a handful of seconds later the suit flies to him and he's encased in its shell. Safe again.

“Well, this was nice,” he says, already hovering a few feet off the floor. Barnes and Rogers are both looking at him. Barnes’ hands are closed into fists, Rogers mouth is hanging open. “Let's never do it again.”

He waves once, before lifting off. He doesn't wait for a reply. If it comes, he doesn't hear it. He's already gone.

[trustmsfox]

The First Six Months

Wow. My little dude is 6 months old. Half a year. 26 weeks. It feels like a bit of a landmark moment so I guess I should record some of the highs and lows that we have been through along the way. When I was pregnant people said things like "Having a baby eh? It's the hardest job you'll ever do" and "It's amazing but so tough." Personally I think those comments are misleading as it's not the hardness or the toughness of the last 6 months that has taken me aback, it's the INTENSITY. If you ask me, having a baby is one of the most intense things you can ever do (I've never climbed a really tall mountain, run a marathon or lived by myself in a foreign country, so I can't compare). It's a relentless, 24 hours a day, overwhelming, always-on, rollercoaster of ALL THE FEELS. I've never felt so many things, from one extreme to another, in such a short space of time. Allow me to elaborate... I'll keep it to the top 10 feels, in the interests of time.

1. Happy

Pure unadulterated joy; I'm not even sure those three words do this feeling justice. The first time I felt this was when my son was born. I may have been drugged up to the eyeballs (well, technically up to the armpits actually as I had an emergency C section) but that moment is burned into my brain and my retina forever. "He's coming out now" the doctor said, I looked at my husband and burst into tears. All those months of worrying and waiting and lugging around my giant distended body... our baby was finally here. There was a second's pause, which felt like an eternity, and then we heard a good healthy cry. I don't think I've ever heard a better sound. It actually brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. "It's a boy!" my husband said (we had decided to keep the sex a surprise) and I blubbed even harder. I would have been happy whether it was a boy or a girl, but the joy of finally finding out the secret our baby had been keeping all along was just magical. Then suddenly our brand new baby boy was placed on my chest and all I could think was "Oh my god he's massive!" I kissed his nose and felt like I had known him all my life. For that moment I will be eternally grateful, as I know not everyone feels like this when their child is born, for a variety of reasons (hormones are a bitch). Unfortunately I then realised I needed to throw up and spent the next 20 minutes doing that, whilst my husband did the fun stuff like cutting the cord and cuddling our brand new baby.

2. Anxious

So much anxiety, for so many reasons. It comes and goes like a shitty nit picky irritating Auntie who keeps "popping in" for a cuppa, uninvited. How much is he supposed to nap? Is he napping enough, too much, how do I get him to sleep??? If I go to Tesco will he wake up? Is he breathing? I know I just checked, but is he still breathing? Will the cat sleep on his head? Will I roll over and crush him in my sleep? Will I fall down the stairs carrying him? Is he still alive (nearly every time I drove for more than 5 minutes with him in the car)? Should I give him calpol? If I give him formula will he be ok? Did I sterilise those bottles already or shall I put them on again? If I drink this glass of wine will it go into my breast milk? What if a I find a spider in his cot? I haven't texted a bunch of people back - will they still be my friends? Will I ever lose this baby weight? I could go on, but I'm sure you get the idea. Most of this is totally irrational, but that's just how it goes when you're not getting regular good amounts of deep sleep or REM. It's a fucker.

3. Amazed

The "firsts" really are incredible, but for me the truly amazing thing is how quickly these new skills become normal and then you're onto something new. One minute you're pulling out all the stops to try and get a little smile, next minute you're tickling the b'jesus out of them and they are giggling so deliciously you think you might combust. One minute you're watching them struggle and kick and desperately try to roll over, the next minute you're thinking "Fuck, I need a stair gate, this kid is about to crawl!" One minute you're cursing that sodding creaky floorboard, as you gently place them back in their Moses basket and creep back into bed, the next minute they're in their own room and when you put them down for the night you actually miss them (I’m aware that’s utterly ridiculous but it happens every night!)

4. Helpless

I had this a lot and the feeling intensified particularly after my son developed THE SCREAM. I think THE SCREAM is probably worthy of its own blog post, so I won't go into all the detail, but suffice it to say my son is capable of an eardrum-bursting, blood-curdling, terrifying, horror movie scream that sounds like a piglet being tortured to death. At his 16 week jabs, when he really got into his stride with it, the nurse looked at me and said "I've never heard a baby make a sound like that", which made me feel a bit better as she makes babies cry for a living. My son has other cries, which I can just about cope with, but once he developed THE SCREAM it meant that all other cries could escalate into THE SCREAM at any given moment. I lived in permanent fear of it. Sometimes unfortunately I'd be in a position where I couldn't fix the problem. For instance, being late for a feed whilst being stuck in traffic in the car, or mis-timing a pushchair nap and having to run around trying to get ready to leave the house while listening to him wailing. I can't count the amount of times I felt trapped, helpless and overwhelmed when all I ever tried to do was anticipate his needs to avoid a screaming fit, got it wrong and he did it anyway. Then of course there were times when he just shouted at me for what seemed like no reason at all; they were equally as fun.

5. Exhausted

I once said to my husband "My soul is tired" and it quickly became a running joke because it sounded so melodramatic, but I still honestly think it's the only way I've ever come close to describing the exhaustion I have experienced. It's not like normal tiredness because there's never a Saturday lie in or an early night on the horizon to catch up. There is no catching up. You just have to adapt to running on 15% battery, unless of course you're gifted a sleepy baby, and even then I still think looking after them all day long is pretty goddamn knackering anyway.

6. Love

In one of my darkest times, on the phone to a counselling service, I was asked "How do you feel towards your baby?" I know I was being asked the red flag questions for post-natal depression but my answer came from the heart: "I love my son so much it terrifies me." I think that's a fairly good summation of how intense the feelings can be. Initially you love a little pink squawky thing, which is kind of like the love you have for a pet, because it’s cute. Then, as time goes on, it grows into love for an actual little person, who has their own personality and feelings and stuff. This kind of love is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced, because I love someone who is growing and changing every day, right in front of my eyes. It takes your breath away.

7. Overwhelmed

Every now and then I have these moments where this feeling bubbles up inside of me and I just hit a wall of overwhelmed-ness, if there is such a thing. It usually follows an episode of my little guy bawling his eyes out, or busting out THE SCREAM, but sometimes it just appears out of the blue, triggered by something really small that reminds me how co-dependent my son and I are right now. I am a super independent person, didn’t have a baby until well into my 30s and I’m basically running the show by myself day to day as we don’t have family nearby, so I think this is one of the things I struggle with the most. When you can’t take a shit in peace, when you can’t just get yourself a glass of water, when you can’t hang up the washing, when you can’t leave the house without seven tonnes of shit, when sometimes you can’t even leave the house, it can just feel so immensely overwhelming that you don’t know what to do with yourself. But then it passes, you get your act together and you get on with it, because that’s the way it is.

8. Relief

"He's asleep." These two words are the source of the most immeasurable amount of relief. Whether it’s naps or nighttime, there are weeks and weeks where the sleep is just so hard-won. The feeling of sheer relief when you see their little eyes flutter closed and their arms flop back behind their head is just unreal. For some moments, there might be some peace for both of you, and that is a thing to be enjoyed... while it lasts!

9. Unqualified

The responsibility of it all. Jesus Christ! This feeling is behind the moments I've had where I've just wanted to hand my son to a stranger, not because I didn’t love him or want him, but because I just didn’t know what he wanted and I desperately wanted someone else to tell me what to do. You can read all the books in the world, do an NCT course, talk to your friends with kids, but no one can tell you how your kid works. They don’t come with a manual and I’m still utterly astounded by how completely different they can be, right out of the proverbial box.

10. Smooshy

I don't really know how to describe this one, but it's like when you see a dog with big sad eyes, or a fluffy bunny, or a baby's chubby cheeks, and the cuteness of them bubbles up inside you and you want to bite them and squeeze them and you find yourself doing that baby voice and shouting "Yes you are!" You've all felt that at some point, right? Yes? It's not just me? Oh thank god. Anyway, yes, that. Sometimes when I look at my little boy, I just think he is so goddamn cute I just want to nibble his cheeks and kiss him from head to toe. Gah!!!!

So yeah, the first 6 months have been fairly rollercoaster-y, but much as the real lows have been lonely dark horrible places, the highs have been higher than I ever could imagined. They’ve been these incredible eye-popping, heart-busting, breath-stealing, stomachs-fluttering moments that I will treasure for as long as I live. If the lows were the price I paid for the highs, then they were worth it a million times over.

[sobdasha]

Do This: List some of the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they are working on. This can be anything! 

tagged by @adirotynd (you forgot me at first but then you remembered I’m so happy!)

tagging @kixboxer

I’m always currently working on everything.......somewhat.........

1) that Yuki and Machi and Who Does Mutsuki Take After prompt for anon

Mutsuki has been baby-snatched. He's been switched in the delivery room. What the nurse hands Machi to feed is not her baby boy, but someone else's several-month-old television model infant. Machi's seen newborns. Her little brother, for example. Other people's bundles of joy, shared around the office email by her various proud coworkers. Her niece Michi, whom she actually got to hold in the hospital. So Machi knows what babies look like. Newborn babies are ugly. Newborn babies are red, wrinkly little hellspawns. They are faces only a mother (or proud papa or other doting relative) could love, all red, toothless mouths in red, scrunched up faces. And the screaming, although you don't get that so much from pictures. And the stickiness, that mixture of drool and snot and tears that pools in every crease. That's what Mutsuki should be. This thing in her arms is some kind of weird alien monstrosity, in comparison. Perfect smooth skin and a creamy-pale complexion. Soft, wispy fluffs of fair hair in just the right amount. It cries, Machi will give it that, and loudly. And its face does get a bit splotchy at those times. But the way its nose crinkles up is like a cute bunny rabbit's, and instead of snot and spit there's just tears, which sparkle. "I don't know," Yuki says, tilting the baby a bit under the hospital lights, "I don't really see any sparkles."

2) Tumblr kiss meme for supes, I have only... 12 - chest kiss and 19 - forceful kiss and 20 - any of the above (I think it’s some kind of cheek or forehead or something kiss?? I...didn’t...write that bit down...) left!!! (no wait, upon further investigation I did note down basically that) since supes wanted to hear more about that last prompt, I’m posing the rough notes of it, since it’s once again in need of a rewrite to find its proper shape

anyway Link is enjoying a dip in one of those hot springs right now, eyes closed, and there's a splash and he figures it's Link the Goron getting back in until a hand that is definitely not made of rock takes his chin and Impa says “Goddesses, Link, what did you do to your face?” and Link kind of startles because suddenly Impa, and he kind of forgets about it you know until people remind him, and he's still pretty self-conscious about it and Impa is, “And I didn't mean that as badly as it sounded. It's good to see you again, Link,” she says, and she smiles warmly and adds, “You look well.”

(Impa and Zelda bathing in Sheikah body suits, and Link is either just in his leggings or else he's in fully Zora tunic because he's just so used to wearing it in any and all water pffft)

and then somehow Zelda joins them, this time around her father's still alive and still on the throne so she gets to do things like ~diplomacy~ which suck sometimes but sometimes they involve getting out of the castle and traveling and saying hi to ppl like the Gorons and that part's pretty great, so she's definitely taking advantage of Darunia's invitation to the hot springs and Zelda notices too and she's kind of “does it look gross?” and Link's sort of yeah, that's why he's wearing the eyepatch still, and Zelda is “can I see?” and Link forgets sometimes that gross scary things don't really bother her that much, so he lifts up the eyepatch so she can see and she kind of makes agreeing noises and eyelid/forehead/nose smooches, MAYBE ALL OF THEM

3) tp zelink4lyfe 95 - advertisement 97 - safety first

these are also both in a state of perpetually needing rewrites hahaha Safety First is supposed to be about swordsmanship competitions during the Festival of Farore, okay, but then a couple days ago I thought WHAT ABOUT WILLIAM TELL so now it’s either going to have a plot overhaul, or else there’s going to be sword version and outtake archery version

4) park ranger zelda AU (her park is her kingdom and link ACTUALLY RAISED BY WOLVES maybe???)

is going to be Breath of the Wild verse so NO SPOILERS FOR SUPES YET I meant to do Twilight Princess always, but never got inspiration....until I suddenly thought of changing the verse

5) link raised by rito

is also going to be Breath of the Wild! so I’m sparing supes the deets! I would have done Wind Waker but I somehow forgot about this prompt constantly?? I don’t know why else I wouldn’t have had any ideas about it?? But BotW will be fun and evil I think so.....yes

6) Link raised as a witch like Maple but more doof less sass (something like that it was too much work to quote the original prompt verbatim)

Link hasn’t been to one of Nayru’s performances in ages. And she used to give Link harp lessons, back before he got too busy being a Junior Apprentice. He wonders if these people have come a long way to hear Nayru sing. Their clothes all look weird and foreign. Another young woman, tall and dark-skinned, laughs aloud. “Well, it’s something like that!” she says. She twirls, the ribbons on her outfit and her long hair whipping with the movement. “We’re a troupe of traveling performers, you see. And when we heard about Nayru--Marin here’s a singer too.” She jerks her thumb at the first girl, who nods and inhales and opens her mouth. Link doesn’t know the language the song is in. But he knows Marin’s voice is pretty, and her notes are clear and pure and steady, and he likes the tune of the ballad. He claps, when she finishes, and she curtsies. “I'm sorry you're busy. But thank you for the directions,” Marin says, before she and the rest of the troupe get their caravan turned around and leave Yoll Graveyard. Link sighs and waits behind the counter for Maple to return from her Important Witch Business, even though it’s going to be too late for him to attend the duet that Marin is going to sing with Nayru, even though Maple comes back whistling something that sounds a lot like Marin’s Ballad of the Goddess.

(I’ve got SS OST going on in the background and just as I copy-pasted this, Zelda singing Ballad of the Goddess came on lol) (”Marin” is Zelda, because I decided that can be just as good an alias as Sheik and also for extra feels)

7) Neko Zamurai AU for Fruits Basket (quoting from the notes, which are kind of sparse SHAME ON ME but the important part is Hana-chan gets hired to kill a cat and steals it instead)

arisa questions her about the color "u kno it's not black right??" and Saki sighs and is "I would have preferred black, yes, but this was all they had…" 5 ryo and one free cat, not bad for an hour's work

she meets Tohru when she comes back to get cat food ("Man, this cat's even pickier than you, Saki!" won't eat fish, veggies, meat…), as she is raiding the house, and Tohru tearfully gives it to her because they used to have a cat until it was killed a few days ago, it's so terrible, who could do that to a cat! And Saki hugs her and pats her "Yes you're right, whoever would kill a cat is truly a terrible person" and then "is this for your cat?" and Saki says yes, she did in fact just get a cat recently, but she doesn't know how to take care of it at all and maybe Tohru would like to escape this ridiculous place and come help her? And Kyou gets dragged along too

8) halfway house for hellspawn it’s actually a collection of emails which I greatly enjoy, but I wanted to write them up more....formally and and chronologically and with less shameful caplocks etc, but that’s going veeeeeeery slowly have some of the original emails!

DOES KURAMA EVER COME OUT TO HIS FAMILY POST MANGA THO I mean on one hand I'm pretty sure he intends to take that TO THEIR GRAVES but on the other hand /how the fucking hell can he possibly keep this secret with the barrier between worlds down/

to rub the salt in, Shiori probably get, like, proactive about demons. Like at first everyone's like "um nope no thanks humans discriminate it's what we do" and "haha okay 'demons' yeah this is Japan home of weird youth trends and other shit" but then it's probably kind of unavoidable that you'd have to deal with them and. like. Shuuichi has a weirdly large amount of delinquent friends. And they're very nice! Urameshi and Kuwabara and Hiei and all, they're quite good people under their rough exteriors. Demons are kind of like delinquents, right? You just have to treat them as people!

While Kurama is on the side, KIND OF LIKE MERLIN FANFICS, going "mom pls mom no mom don't get unnecessarily involved with demons mom just don't" while Shiori is "young man I do not know what your problem is but this is most unlike you, you do not need to worry"

BETTER YET LIKE

SO DEMONS ARE TRYING TO INTEGRATE INTO THE HUMAN WORLD. And they can chill at Genkai's old place, but like, that's way the fuck up in the mountains there aren't really any humans. To really integrate you need to like INTERACT WITH HUMANS. OKAY. AND LIKE. WHO IS THE ONLY HUMAN MOST DEMONS HAVE HEARD OF. ASIDE FROM CELEBRITIES (NOT. NOT THAT DEMON WORLD PIRATES A LOT OF HUMAN WORLD MEDIA. NOPE.) THAT WOULD BE. "KURAMA'S HUMAN MOM."

SO IT BECOMES A FUCKING UNOFFICIAL RITE OF PASSAGE. GO HAVE DINNER AT THE HATENAKA HOUSEHOLD. IF YOU ARE STILL ALIVE AFTER A WEEK, YOU PASSED. YOU CAN PROPERLY INTERACT WITH ANY HUMAN YOU CHOOSE. YOU ARE FREE TO MOVE ABOUT THE HUMAN WORLD WITHOUT UNDUE STRESS THAT YOU'LL FUCK UP.

and inevitably it's always like "uh I'm a friend of your son Shuuichi he's really good at reforming ppl???" and everyone assumes it's just that Shuuichi must volunteer helping ppl become productive members of society and Shiori approves, isn't that nice, what a good boy, it's the same as all his other delinquent friends

while Kurama is like "YOU DON'T HAVE TO LET THEM IN THE HOUSE. MOM. YOU DON'T. PLEASE. MOM. M O M."

and every demon who comes to the house probably fucks up regularly and /how is Kurama supposed to keep his secret under these conditions when he is a super-famous demon fuck u all/ either the Hatenaka family is universally really bad at reading the atmosphere, the rule of funny has come into play, or they're just patiently waiting for Kurama to come out to them, SOMETHING, YOU DECIDE

still it'd be REALLY FUNNY if they were TOTALLY OBLIVIOUS and as Kurama scrambles to cover his secret they are all just "really Shuuichi it's not like you to be this judgmental of ppl what have you got against demons they are perfectly nice"

9) well there’s SUPPOSED TO BE a Neko Zamurai AU for YYH too but I guess that’s on paper somewhere??? I certainly don’t see it on my computer. Okay then....

the important thing to note is that Kuwabara steals the cat, obviously.

10) Pearl and Garnet and writer's preference ("You did all of this for me?") or, the one where Steven introduces Pearl to Things Organized Neatly and it all predictably goes downhill from there what I have written is gonna need some tweaking so have this bit of the notes lol

(something about blog numbers, here or later? And pearl's like "if that's what a blog is, I could make a blog" and Steven with star-eyes is "o. omg. Pearl. WILL YOU MAKE A BLOG AND BECOME INTERNET FAMOUS. AND THEN CAN I TELL EVERYONE WE'RE FRIENDS.")

11) 3 suitors Lieutenant Awn had (knowingly or not) and what One Esk had to say about them.

TECHNICALLY HAVEN’T STARTED WORKING ON IT YET and this kind of prompt is not really my strong point ON THE OTHER HAND I DO LOVE ME THOUSANDS OF BABY LIEUTENANT TEARS SOAKING JUSTICE OF TOREN’S JACKETS so you can probably expect to see some baby lieutenants weeping into One Esk’s soothing arms after they crushed on but then were crushed by part-time oblivious heartbreaker Lieutenant Awn

anyway I’ve got tons of other WIPs everywhere but those were the easiest to dredge up and pretty recent