#this can be found on ao3!

[fuwabloom]

It's been a while since I posted anything! So sorry but I've been in a bit of creative funk and had to scrap a lot of the chapter I was working on so... I'm gonna post it here!

--

Context: Ayano is being discharged from the hospital after fainting due to stress. Her father is worried for her and she thinks back on a very specific memory of appeasing him as a child.

--

It took several more tests and evaluations before Ayano was finally released from the hospital. Her mother was, once again, roped into another meeting with Director Mukai and assured her family that they could leave without her.

The three idle outside the entrance of the hospital, her father carrying a bag of clothes in one hand and a paperbag full of books and other miscellaneous trinkets Ayano was gifted. Mukai Kinu was bashfully obvious with trying to win over the girl's affections,

She laughed off the concerns of the two, and gently patted them on the shoulders, affirming her initial offer,

"Now, now," she cooed, affection sparkling in her eyes. A wide grin blossomed on her lips, reaching her eyes with sheer delight. "I know today is our first day altogether out of the hospital, but duty calls! I'll have Mukai-kun drive me home and pay for some prime wagyu beef, doesn't that sound nice?"

Ayano isn't slow, she knows what her mother looks for with how she stares back, batting her lashes in am attempt to garner a favorable response. Her father is quick, a natural charmer when it came to Ryoba, and he utters a pathetic excuse of being concerned that maybe they should all take a night to relax. It's been so long, hasn't it? They've rarely had a chance to sit at the table and negotiate who gets to finish what side dish.

Ayano follows up, picking up the cue from her father's trailing pleas. She forces a heavy pout, eyes downcast, and as soon as she feels her mother's loving attention on her, she crosses her arms and turns away. Most parents would reprimand such insolence but Ryoba was an anomaly. She had no standard criteria. No control group to be compared to. Nothing. She was a being of whims and wants with no manual someone can pick up and read.

An adolescent of a parent with an ounce of normality would get scolded. But this was not that type of setting. Instead, Ryoba giggles, validating the poor acting, and gently kisses her daughter's temple. She's a woman who is not easily swayed and faulted to being amused than endeared.

"I wish you could act spoiled like this before you start high school," she sighs and her husband relents a nervous chuckle. "Maybe I'll also drop by Wakuri Bakery and pick up some cream puffs? I know my dearest Ayano's are the best but for now, you need to get reacquainted with our home after being away so long!"

She repeated her consolation until a man in a black suit arrived and cleared his throat. He was an older gentleman, clean shaven, with black hair swept over a pair of shades. His shoulders were broad and the way he stood made him appear bigger than he actually was for his average height. "Aishi-san," he calls, tapping on his wrist. A flash of light reflected on his watch, showing off a hint of his wage.

"Hmph!" Ryoba whines but laughs it off when the man refrains from flinching. "Oh you young blood," she chides and waves to her family. "Don't worry, my loves, just make sure not to eat too late!"

The two leave, approaching a loitering vehicle with the suit opening the passenger's door, waiting for Ryoba to slide in. She turns one last time and blows affectionate kisses to her husband and daughter and, finally, seats herself in the car. Visibly, the man's shoulders slack, and he hurries to the driver's seat. A few more seconds pass and the engine murmurs before the vehicle departs.

Ayano hears her father breathe out in an ironic mix of distress and relief. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" His tone is unsteady as his eyes are tracking the tail end of the car circling through the parking lot and entering the high way. "Mukai-sensei said everything was fine, great even, and praised how healthy you are... But, uh, how was your appetite? Was it okay? Did you eat enough?"

Her father danced around the worries of her well-being often. Meanwhile, Ryoba batted away such issues like they were someone else's problem or something absurd like the Aishi family's genes were above such trivial things like fevers. They both exercised caution of Ayano's health, leaving it to regular evaluations in school. There was never anything wrong outside of the mild concern that Ayano, as a growing child, didn't eat much compared to other children.

It wasn’t urgent nor something to worry about, but it left a gnawing feeling in his stomach. A worry that he once brought up when it was just him and a seven-year-old Ayano. They sat across each other at a quiet family restaurant. Laminated menus placed before them, wiped clean from previous diners, colorful to entice their childish patrons, and used silly names to further entrance curious eyes.

Sundae specials like 'A Berry Banana Bonanza' for a banana split chock-full of strawberries and raspberries; 'Choco-Mint Mayhem' where the sea green of mint was sprinkled with chocolate chunks and decorated with sticks of Pocky; and 'My Neopolitean Regime' is a strange name for a childish delight, what with its dedicated embodiment of its three flavors and candies that resided inside. It's supposed to be a statement, Ayano once thought, possibly one that denied dentists everywhere a smooth appointment.

Her father's eyes shone briefly after she rose her head, asking with eagerness if she wanted ice cream. She knows she needs to act spoiled, yanking at her father's shaky hands, and sobbing crocodile tears with a thousand pleases falling from her tongue. She knows he wants that, to witness an ounce of a normal child across him. She knows he is struggling, desperation the only thing he can feel when around his family.

She knows and yet, she can't act like what he wants. All she can do is pick up a mask that she made specifically for him and wear it while reciting a script. As the playwright, the producer, the actress, she performs and does it well.

"Daddy," she meekly began, batting her eyes like she's seen Midori do a thousand times. "Can I get the Neopolitean one?" She tapped her finger against the disgustingly bright photo of said dessert.

A smile escaped him and the crows feet around his eyes crinkle. "You can, but then you'll be too full for dinner," he gently reprimanded, relief flooding from his voice. His muscles loosen, as if something inside him unwound. "Can you promise me that you'll have room for some yummy dinner?"

Like he could breathe.

She figured this was enough for him to feel like this could be normal. So she nods, stubborn with cheeks puffed and brows furrowed, similar to Kuu who debated with her parents often. She'd fight for adding 'just one more book!' to the cart as they wandered from aisle to aisle in a bookstore. Funny faces seeped onto Kuu's parents' faces as though they were doing their best not to laugh, and were easily swayed by the soured look of their child. 'Okay,' they'd say with a shake of their head, 'just one more.'

So, as always, Ayano feeds off her companions' lives and processes it as artificially as possible.

"I promise!"

And that memory drifts into nothingness. Her stomach was too small to handle such a behemoth of a sundae and they wound up boxing it, brought it home, and had it as dessert for dinner. She recalled having stomach cramps but managed to hide it and finish dinner her mother crooned on about loving to make. Ayano excused herself to take a bath first and relished in the hot water for as long as she could.

Why would anyone want to eat more than one scoop of ice cream? Impossible. She felt her teeth decay at the thought of attempting it a second time.

And so, the feeling drifts again.

"Mukai-sensei made sure I've eaten everything on my plate," she assured, feigning bashfulness. "I might gain weight because of it..." Gingerly her hands pat at her nearly nonexistent flab. She always worked out, not even thinking about it, scultped by her mother's designed lifestyle. Her posture was always upright, she did light cardio, she put her all into physical education, and was on constant alert. If anything, the pink-haired nurse commented how Ayano had a surprising amount of muscle for someone who wasn't part of an athletic club.

"It's almost as if you're training to join a sports meet!"

It was a kind observation. Something someone innocent, ignorant, of the world would assume. Or someone normal.

Her father cracked a smile, crows feet prominent.

[tadfools]

You guys are commenting on the fics you read right? You’re at least leaving kudos on the Astarion smut and the pairs that have less than 20 fics for them too? You’re bookmarking stories you really like that are still being updated and ones that haven’t been touched in over a year right?

You know that even the smallest interactions are like cocaine to fic writers right? You understand how important a string of emoji hearts left behind on a chapter at three am is right?? Right????

You’re treating AO3 like a community and not a content factory….right?

[existential-labrador]

Developing a massive crush on for The Ghoul whilst simultaneously shipping him with Lucy had me worried that I might need to go back to therapy for a moment, before I checked the tags on here

[science-lings]

God, I love it when people who clearly have personal experience or expert knowledge on certain things write obscure AUs that incorporate those things so hyperspecifically that I feel like I'm learning something.

I love nurses who write hospital AUs that have accurate medical knowledge just thrown in there because they went to medical school and when people who clearly had a phase where they obsessed over a certain time period write an AU set in that time period or location it's just so fun.

Tell me about the 1950s Chicago culture and history and how the characters are interracial and how that affects their life, I love when the money is accurately converted and the personal histories of the characters are thoughtfully woven to incorporate the new setting they're put in, I love it when people care so much about making something and use their own expertise to aide them.

[klaraakrstic]

Here are some funny AO3 tags I found because why not

Personal favourite:

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

when you mentioned in your tags that there was hardly any laughingstock i didn't believe you at first, but holy shit ur right. YOU AND @krasytoonz MADE ME INTO A LAUGHINGSTOCK BELIEVER. I WILL PAY TRIBUTE TO THESE SKRUNGLY FUCKERS SOON, MARK MY WORDS *shakes fist into the void*

no yeah Seriously though its just us out here, fighting for our lives in the fucking Trenches. in ten years someone is gonna use the word 'laughingstock' casually in conversation and im gonna have War Flashbacks

[bidonicart]

I love everything that's wrong with you

(slightly bloodier version under the cut)

[aesthetically-dying101]

Small Chris Fehn image comp. (idk the credits here, this post has been in my drafts for six months)

[night-invader]

Show Lloyd and movie Lloyd shenanigans.

Show Lloyd: your mom, Miss Koko, is nice.

Movie Lloyd: for the love of god, don't call her miss Koko when you have my face.

Show Lloyd: *grins* Madam Koko it is then.

Movie Lloyd: NO!!

[bumblebeegreen]

TRAGIC! You thought you found the fic you were searching for only to get half way through and realise it was just very similar

[soundsfaebutokay]

If you're a fic writer and you put a link to a rebloggable tumblr post in the ao3 notes of your fic, I love you I love you I love you. YES I WANT TO REBLOG YOUR FIC and yes if I feel that strongly about it I will track down your tumblr and dig through your archives just to reblog your own fic post from you so that you can see the positive tags and comments OR as a last resort I may make my own rec post but if I don't have to do any of those because there's a handy little link on your ao3 then I love you I love you I love you to the moon and back

[indigovigilance]

How do I write a character that's an expert in astrophysical instrumentation?

Oh.

I guess I have to become an expert in astrophysical instrumentation.

Update: a mutual reached out and was like "here let me explain cosmic microwave background to you" and guys, we have the best fandom. Just, the best. I am crying.

[thevioletcaptain]

if you as a fic reader ever become possessed by the urge to do a popularity bracket with the fics other people wrote and shared for fun and for free, consider:

don't ❤️ 

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

u ever get like accidentally mildly invested in a crack ship

[forestmossling]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHDYEVFKFIDHCHDCJXCJXUXXISISJWGYWAAAAQTWKDLBF

i will be no longer screaming in moderation. i am now going to scream excessively. sorry for that.

THIS IS SO GOOD. this literally ascends any mortal comprehension of good. this is AMAZING.

i started reading it at like 4am because i have no self-control so my capability of comprehending stuff was greatly lowered due to my sleep deprivation, but i feel like if i had my full emotional range at my disposal while i was reading this i wouldn’t have survived. this is my favorite steddie fic now.

it’s just so sweet😭😭 and the characterization is so on point, but with a fun twist to it, because they actually act and feel like the barely-not-teenagers-anymore that they are. the fact that steve actually went to eddie to learn about dnd (i LOVE when this happens in fics), all of their interactions, the way eddie’s so silly and smitten with steve in such a real way. and when eddie thought steve stood him up, when he was thinking about that naive joy that he allowed himself for a short while despite knowing better being replaced by the bitter disappointment and the feeling of “i knew this would happen, what did i even expect” was described in such visceral way to me at least, because i know that feeling so well and have experienced it in absolutely the same way so many times so i was about ready to writhe on the floor while i clawed my heart of my chest. i am just-

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

anyway. and i already said here that i love an outsider’s perspective on what happens to steve from people who don’t know about the upside down and pre-canon meetings so this was just everything that i love and treasure but also so much more. i feel like i don’t even have the correct words to describe the way i feel about this fic anymore.

and eddie thinking his crush on steve was so hopeless while steve was literally crushing on him for several months already was so- aaarfwjdiveufoehwxhskdc. especially when eddie found out about it.

and eddie rushing to startcourt, terrified, when he found out it was burning down and taking care of steve and taking him home i’m just 😭😭😭. i can’t.

and i really loved the way they didn’t have this classic “oh my god there’s no way he’s not straight” thing going on, because when eddie asked him out to the fair he immediately assumed it was a date and steve ALSO knew it was a date and they didn’t have to go through a gajillion of painful conversations to figure out they’re on the same page. not that it’s bad when it goes like this, it’s also amazing and can be wonderful to read, but this version of their relationship just hits different.

also, the barmaid/blacksmith dnd fantasy nearly killed me dead. i was this 🤏 close to tearing up every time it was mentioned, and the way it wasn’t just a passing comment but became a thing for them just makes me AAAAARDJESFGDEGJKESN.

and this

just made me giggle, idk. literally don’t look at me, i am so Not Normal about this fic.

and it’s just funny how the previous fic i read has a pretty similar concept but i whined about not getting a continuation and not seeing how their relationship would pan out, and the next fic by this author that i read just immediately delivers. good fucking god.

anyway, sorry guys, but this is now officially a @keycarabiner fan page. if my discordant desperate screams haven’t already made that painfully clear, i am obsessed with this fic and i STRONGLY RECOMMEND reading it. if not for my sake, then for yours. 9357001126935831552368005336892950/10, go read this right now.

[queerweewoo]

When there's now this thing in your life, a new thing between you and another person, a thing you can't quite put your finger on to be able to try and describe it.

When you start to become so comfortable with this person that they start to become your person, and before you're really aware that anything has changed between you, you've just suddenly become one hundred percent theirs.

When you then get so close to that person that you don't really realise that things have shifted so significantly between you, because it's so infinitesimally and yet so dramatically all at once, and because everything just feels so damn right all the time and exactly the way you feel things are supposed to feel, so why would you ever think about changing it?

When it dawns on both you and that person—maybe one of you gets there before the other, maybe both at the same time?—that the two of you have moved on from being just friends and are morphing into something else, so seamlessly and with such ease that you don't have to question it, because it is just a thing that sort of is now.

When your touches become lighter, lingering things, softer and warmer and more frequent than before, and occurring much, much more and in a very different way than with anybody else in your life.

When you and your person and this thing that you now share become more wanting and more needy, and yet somehow so unerringly steady, and also so wonderfully and assuredly grounding and immovable, all as one, all at the very same time.

When together, you become more.

When you find you have found your way to your person, and to this thing, the thing that you now mold and nurture and that molds and nurtures you, slowly; unwaveringly; absolutely; discovering that it's helps you to move in new ways and to unfold as a person, to breathe, to settle into yourself.

When you have this thing (all of these things) in your life and realise that this is it, this is the thing they've been writing about throughout the ages.

When you realise that this thing—your thing—is a thing called love.