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CRYING, SCREAMING AND RUNNING AROUND. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!

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Ichigo & Rukia: Agent of the Shinigami & Soul Society

TV アニメ『𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇』 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐏𝐕

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Kenshin and Kaoru

LITTLE WOMEN 2017 | dir. Vanessa Caswill

╰┈❥ Konata Graphics !! ♡₊˚⊹

𖦹  ---- requested by an anon ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ 𖦹  ---- free to use with credit ! ꒷꒦⋆⑅

Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson

More pansy x theo please!!!

this is for the @hprarepairnet hogwarts challenge!

pansy was bored.

draco and blaise decided not to come back to hogwarts to re-do their seventh year, daphne was distracted by her new weasley boyfriend, and millicent had been missing since the battle.

so that meant she was only left with theodore nott to be her friend.

they knew each other, sure, but they weren’t close by any means. 

he was quiet, too quiet for pansy’s taste, and to be honest, she wondered if he even knew how to be social.

but alas, she tried to get him to talk to her every night in their common room by the fire.

he would have a book in his hand, and his reading glasses would slip to the tip of his nose when he was getting too into the passage he was skimming.

she would tap her fingers impatiently on the hardwood side table and wait for him to notice her, but he never did.

until one night in october.

her tapping became so incredibly annoying to theo that he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“will you please stop that?” he snapped, “if you want my attention, just say something.”

she crossed her arms and glared at him.

“why can’t you just say something? why is it always up to everyone else to engage you in conversation?”

“maybe because i don’t like talking?” he said bluntly, “it’s not a requirement to survive.”

“i actually read somewhere in a muggle textbook on something they call psychology that human interaction is very important for a humans psyche.”

this grabbed his attention.

he slammed his book shut, took of his glasses, and set both down on the table in front of him.

“muggles don’t get to tell me what is good or not good for my psyche, and you certainly don’t get to either. since when have you been interested in muggles anyway? aren’t you as classist and pureblood as they come?”

this hit pansy hard, it hit her harder than she imagined it would.

that was her mother’s doing, not hers.

“you don’t know a damn thing about me,” she told him hotly, “don’t act like you do. i know who your father was.”

“yeah, well, parents don’t define my actions.”

she was seething. he knew. he knew her better than she thought he did. he had been watching her all these years.

“i’m not my mother’s puppet anymore.”

“that’s obvious, since you are reading muggle books.”

she took a deep breath and got up from her spot on the couch.

she could feel his eyes on her as she started to walk away.

“wait,” he said quietly, “i’m sorry.”

she turned around to see him standing by the couch. he looked awkward.

“i don’t know how to interact with people,” he explained honestly, “it’s not in my skill-set.”

“that’s what practice is all about,” pansy told him coolly, “i could help you if you like. i mean, i have nothing else better to do.”

she watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and he surprised her by nodding. 

theodore nott was all long lines and arched brows. he had this air about him, somehing quiet and bristling, like a gust of wind growing steadily stronger. his hands were soft and his eyes haunted, and he had seen enough horrors to understand the world. those he trusted were few and far between, but if you’d gained his favor, he would follow you to the wild, he woud bury your skeletons with you. often he would disappear, but he would always come back and hold you. loving him was like trying to hold water in your palms.

pansy parkinson was all sharp edges and wolfish smiles. there was something about her, something blinding and harsh, like a too bright light. her touch was harsh and her gaze desperate, and she had been in a cage long enough to know it will never do. she did not love many, but if she wanted you in her life, she would claw into you, she would hold you close to her chest. sometimes she could hurt you, but she never meant to. loving her was like trying to kiss a lightning bolt.

they have been the center of each other’s world for years, the eye of the storm. from a luxurious childhood, to painful youth, to quiet adulthood. there had never been anyone else for either of them.

A Consumption of Grief

Summary: Pansy’s estranged mother has died, and after an unfortunate event at the funeral, Theo shows her who her real family is.

Pairing: Theo Nott x Pansy Parkinson

Word Count: 3,648

Warning: Implied parental abuse, shower smut, mourning

A/N: Hi all, thanks for stopping to read a quick Pansy & Theo one-shot because lets be honest, Theo deserves some happy content. I wanted to point out that after some research I could not find Pansy’s parents names, so I named them myself. Ravenna for her mother and Thames for her father. These characters are obviously not canon, and unfortunately I do not own the rights to any of the other characters mentioned.

xox, a

-

Pansy found out the news of her mothers passing and the date of the funeral, all within the same letter. In their shared bedroom Theo was still fast asleep as she read the letter in her fathers messy handwriting, once, twice, three times before she understood that she was expected to make an appearance. She wrinkles her nose at the thought of speaking to a crowd of strangers about a person she had not seen in over 5 years, a person who disapproved of every action she did, a person who was the shell of what a mother should be.

Could have been. Pansy corrects herself, sipping thoughtfully at the coffee mug in her hand.

Ravenna had never wanted a daughter; she’d wanted a son. She had never confirmed it, but Pansy knew. She always knew she was unwanted, especially when she was sent to Hogwarts. She begged her parents not to send her away, that she could go to the school near their mansion, but they would not listen.

“It’s important you know the Malfoy boy.” Ravenna had instructed. “He’ll make something of you yet.”

Those words had been another solidifying reason when Pansy ultimately ended things with Draco.

They weren’t very compatible, lacking a real spark in anything but sex; besides, it had been something Ravenna wanted, therefor Pansy had to push back.

Theo came not long after.

He was quiet yet confidant, both qualities Pansy lacks, and while he was dating Penelope, she secretly pleaded with herself that she had not liked him, that she did not wish him and Penelope ill-fortune, that he was too decent of a man, even for a Slytherin, to be bothered with someone like her.

How things had changed from their Hogwarts days.

“Whatcha reading?” Theo asks, shirtless, leaning against the doorframe with his head to the side.

“Oh nothing,” Pansy replies, folding up the letter and placing it on the side table. “Ravenna died.” Theo stares at her, and instantly sat beside her on the couch, pulling her into a hug.

“Pans I’m so sorry.” He murmurs into her hair. He smells like sincerity, his fingers soft against her shoulders and back.

“The funeral is next week.” She says, hugging him back. “I’ll need to go to it.”

“Of course,” Theo nods, pulling back slightly so he could look at her. “I’ll come as well, if that’s alright.” Pansy waves her hand lightly, untucking her feet from beneath her as she takes her coffee cup and pours the remaining contents down the sink.

“No need, love.” She replies. “I’ll just make an appearance and be back in the blink of an eye. No need to stick around places I’m not needed.”

He shrugs, brushing the hair from his eyes. He knew how difficult her family was and did not push on issues regarding her mother, which she was forever grateful for. Theo challenged her, but never to the breaking point. He knew under all those sharp features and stoic grins there was a slightly damaged, fearful girl that just needed some appreciation.

Pansy pulls her coat from their linen closet, tying the belt around her waist as she pats the pocket of the coat, affirming her wand is safely tucked inside.

“Do you have to go to work today?” Theo yawns, and stretches out on the couch, his feet dangling off the side and his hands under his head in support.

“You know I do,” Pansy replies, narrowing her eyes at him. “Don’t try to distract me, I doubt the ministry would be appreciative.”

“I’m sure Granger would understand that you need a day off.” Theo suggests, and Pansy knew that he was right. Working under Hermione did have its perks, like her being a kind and understanding supervisor, but it also had its drawbacks which Theo had spent many nights listening to Pansy complain over.

“I know, but I should still be responsible,” she replies, and Theo gave her a sympathetic look. “What?”

“Pans, your mum just died.” He says softly, sitting up on his elbows. “It’s ok to…feel that.”

Pansy places her hand on the nob, contemplating his words.

“No. Ravenna died.” She says and blew Theo a kiss before she walks out the door.

-

What exactly was one to wear to a funeral, besides black? Pansy chews her lip as she surveys her closet. Theo had already left work, giving her a dose of morning affection, and encouraging words before he left, and she had a little under two hours before the procession was supposed to start. She decides on a long black gown with sleeves, and a little silver detailing at the throat. After adorning silver earrings to match and red lipstick, she locks the door to their apartment and apparates to St. Mary’s Church Hall.

Pansy lands with only a slight stumble on the dead grass of the church grounds, straightening her dress slightly as witches and wizards walked past her into the large open doors. Head high, she follows an elderly couple in, walking past them and up to the front pews. A silver metal casket was at the center of the alter, the lid closed, and Pansy breathed a sigh of relief. Glancing at the front pew, she gives a tight smile to Narcissa and Draco who were sitting down, their backs straight, and they both respond in the same tight-lipped grimace.

“I’m so sorry to hear of your mothers passing.” Narcissa breaths as Pansy greeted them, grasping her palm. “We wanted to offer our condolences.”

“Thank you.” Pansy replies, feeling stiff, like her manners were rusty.

“There you are!”

Pansy inwardly scoffs as her father bounded over to her, placing his arms around both her and Narcissa and giving them a squeeze. “We were worried you wouldn’t show.”

He reeked of Jameson.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Pansy sneers and sat with a huff next to Draco. Thames had always suffered with alcoholism, even when Pansy was growing up, but she thought maybe he could keep it together for the hour it took to bury his dead wife.

Apparently not.

As the funeral began, the priest talks of the life of Ravenna, her many accomplishments, and how she truly was never really gone, but lived in the hearts of those who knew her best.

“So, not in my heart.” Pansy mutters under her breath, and she could her Draco snort beside her. When it is time for the eulogy, Thames waddles up to the podium and leans against it, sweat glistening slightly on his brow.

“Well, what a turn out.” He bellows, his mouth too close to the microphone and Pansy cringes. “Ravenna would have been so…so overjoyed to have you all here.” With shaking hands Thames removes a scrap of paper from his waist coat, unfolding it as he clears his throat.

“My wife…my wife was not an overly-kind woman. She was sharp. Her voice, her face, even her clothing had a harsh kind of shine to it.” Thames says, and Pansy could feel her cheeks warm as she stares at her father, a man she had not seen in a long time, his face twisting from a drunken glow to a melancholia-like sadness. “I knew she was not well perceived, that because of her approach, she was not well liked. But she was the love of my life.” He choked on the word ‘life’, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

“She loved me in the only way she knew how, and she was far from perfect, but she was mine, just mine.” He paused, and Pansy could see the tears at the corner of his eyes that mimicks her own. “If you could have seen her in her rawest forms. Before going to sleep, when she would play piano. Even when she was teaching our Pansy to walk.”

Thames turns his head and stares at Pansy, his eyes pleading with hers, like they were asking her something.

Forgive her, please.

Pansy stares back, her hands and arms feeling slightly buzzed, like she had sipped some of that Jameson her father was so clearly depending on.

“She loved you.” Thames says, as if Pansy were the only person in the room. “I-I know she was terrible at showing it, horrid even. But she adored you, her Precious Pansy.”

Pansy could feel the blood thrumming behind her ears, could see all the eyes in the church now on her, and her chest felt constricted, tight like a bow string.

Forgive her, please.

Her legs feel weak as she stands up, and she could feel the cool liquid of a tear run down her cheek. “Did she?” Pansy says, and her voice tight, wobbly.

She would not cry, not in front of all these people.

Not in front of Thames. Not over Ravenna.

“She could have shown me.”

Narcissa whispered something Pansy didn’t hear as she removed her wand from her coat pocket, grasping it tightly, and shot her father one last look.

He might as well have been a stranger.

“Goodbye, father.” Pansy whispers, narrowing her eyes, trying to ignore the tears that threatened to escape once more. “If I should even call you that.”

She apparated.

-

She lands in the apartment with a thud, banging her wrist slightly on the dining table as she ungracefully hits the floor. She hisses, clutching her arm to her and sniffling slightly. She could tell Theo wasn’t home yet, almost grateful to be alone as she rubs the inside of her arm and lets out a choked sob.

She strips her clothing and steps into their shower, turning on the water while standing beneath the faucet, shivering as the cold water hit her back and waits with chattering teeth for it to warm.

She’s unsure of how long she stays beneath the spray, long enough for it to turn cold once more, and eventually she removes herself from the safety of the water, brushing her short hair out as she exits the bathroom. Theo is sitting on the edge of their bed, hands clasped together with a milk-white envelope between his fingers.

“Hey Pans,” he murmured softly. “How was the funeral?” He stands and walks to her slowly, tentatively brushing his hands against her still-damp shoulders, dipping his head to look at her face.

She smiles up at him, but it feels wrong, like it was too wide, and she looks away.

“That for me?” she asks, gesturing to the envelope. Theo nods as she takes it from him.

She had been expecting some kind of backlash but so soon was a little unnerving.

The envelope explodes, jumping out of her hands and the voice of her father echoes from the howler.

“You ungrateful BITCH. How DARE you cause a scene like that?” The howler roars, and Pansy takes a step back, colliding with Theos chest. “You fucking live because we allowed you to, because I allow you to and this is how you repay us? By dismissing the memory of your mother, in front of all her peers? There is no inkling of a doubt in my mind that your lack of compassion is what killed her. You broke her heart, you wretched, filthy, awful fucking girl” his voice trips on all the adjectives he spoke, his syllables slurring. “I never want to see you again. My daughter died today, in that god damn church.”

With a pop, the howler is gone, a plum of black smoke evaporating where it once floated.

Pansy is silent, blinking slowly, trying to process his words.

Forgive her, please.

Her chest feels cracked. Uneven.

“Well, that answers your question I guess.” She chuckles. Her throat feels raw.

“Pans…”

“Theo, don’t.” Pansy shot back. She feels herself unwinding, her forehead aching, and she know if she opens her mouth, if she tries to tell him, she would be unraveled. “Can you just…make some dinner? I missed the reception.”

He pauses for a moment, starring at her until she looked away. She feels too open, too exposed.

“Sure,” Theo replies, and he cups her face. “I’m right here when you need me. I’ll wait until you’re ready.” He kisses her cheek, his lips soft, comforting, and she almost sighs in anguish when he pulls away. He squeezes her shoulders tenderly, then exits their bedroom, closing the door lightly behind him.

Dressing quickly, she steels herself, remembering the years of unaccompanied life accomplishments and the lack of affection she had grown up without, and the anger bubbles in her chest.

She’s glad Ravenna is dead. Relieved, even.

Then why did she feel so tired?

She and Theo ate a dinner of broccoli and garlic butter pasta, one of Theos famous dishes, and she listens with intent as he tells her about his day. He offers her a second helping, and took it, twirling her fork around the noodles as she watches him sprinkle salt on his dish. His bangs fall in his eyes as he talks, brown eyes sparkling slightly as he tells her how one of his new coworkers had accidently sent Blaise the wrong copy of a file and Blaise was so pissed off, he’d nearly hexed the man.

Theo is her family, this Labrador of a man, his shoulders broad as he makes an animated gesture and she laughs, a real laugh, and feels the weight lift from her as easily as melting snow.

The weight returns later that night as she awakes with a start, her heart beating wildly and a sheet of sweat covers her. As quiet as she can manage, she moves Theo’s arm from around her waist and tip toes to the bathroom, stripping from her lounge set and stepping into the shower. The chilled water jolts her out of her sleepy stupor, and she feels the tears creep into her eyes. Pressing the heals of her palms against her eyes, she bites her lip and lets out a sob.

Pansy rarely cries; it’s an odd sensation. She is not fond of it.

She leans her forehead against the white wall of their shower as the water begins to warm, her tears stream faster, and she covers her mouth slightly, trying to stifle her sobs.

She let out a small shriek as she hears the shower curtain move, spinning around to find Theo standing there, his clothes in a pile by his feet.

“Got room for two?”

She nods, not trusting herself enough to speak.

He steps into the shower, sliding his arms round her and she leans against him. He kneads his finger tips into her shoulders, the small of her back, the base of her neck.

Its grounding and its terrific.

She began to cry again, and can feel Theos sympathy oozing out of him and she hates it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I keep…” She falters, searching for the right word. “Keep getting upset.”

“Because your mother died.” He replies, moving to pull her flush against him, his lips against her shoulder.

“But she never acted like one.” Pansy counters, her arms lace around his waist. She feels him press a kiss to her skin, a light electricity sprouting from the spot.

“That may be true,” He replies, pulling his head back so he can look at her. “But she was still your mum, whether she acted as such or not, and you still are going to mourn her.”

Leaning his forehead against hers, she shuts her eyes.

“You still have to grieve.”

“What if,” Pansy sniffles, not daring to look at him. If she did, if she sees his empathy, she might crack again. “What if I feel like I never got to apologize for…disappointing her.”

“How could you have disappointed her?” Theo asks, his hands moving to her wet sides.

Pansy chuckles humorously. “I bet she would not have been pleased with my theatrics today.”

“That’s how you’re handling it, then.” Theo counters. “Everyone grieves differently, but everyone grieves. For some it comes in waves. For others it takes years. And still others, it’s all consuming for the rest of their life.”

Pansy didn’t respond, but leans against him once more, his skin warm against hers and she feels the familiar need begin to pull in her lower abdomen. She snakes her hand between them, wrapping her fingers around him softly and he gasps.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea for tonight.” Theo murmurs against her hair, but she keeps her hand there.

“Please,” She says, turning to look at his face. “I just need to…to be reminded that someone…someone values me.”

She feels positively ridiculous saying those words, practically begging for love, but she’s so empty, so deprived. She knows he could fix that.

Theo’s lips meet hers in a deep kiss, pressing his body closer and closer, entrapping her hand against them. “You are so loved, Pansy.”

She swallows hard, her hand coming up to caress his curls that are matted down by the water. “Promise? Some days, i-it’s really hard, I just feel worthless, and you’re so wonderf-”

“You’re not worthless. You are enough, Pansy. You’re determined and compassionate and spirited and you are far from worthless.”

She kisses him, and can feel him grow against her as he puts his hand down under her knee, slowly hooking her thigh over him. He moves his head against her neck, licking at the skin where her neck meets her shoulder, and she shudders against him.

“You are more than enough. You’re everything.”

Pansy kisses him again, and he lifts her leg more, dragging it slightly over his hip as his other hand braces him against the wall. She gasps against his lips, “Show me. Please.” He hums slightly, taking her bottom lip between his teeth, and she can feel he’s fully hard against her. Releasing her leg, he spins her around gently, his hands on her hips, thumbs rubbing in a circular motion. “Of course, of course sweetheart. Hands on the wall, love.” She places her hands on the wall, and can feel his fingers between her legs, gliding between her folds easily from her arousal. He peppers her back and neck with kisses, whispering into her hair as he slips one finger in.

She gasps, her shoulders tensing, and he kisses between her shoulder blades.

“Relax,” he commands, and she exhales. “Let me take care of you.” She nods as she feels his finger curl inside her, and she whimpers against the wall, resting her forehead forward. She attempts to grasp him, but he pushes her hand away.

“This is about you. I can get my own release later. Lets help you relax.”

During normal times she knows he’d be fast and hard, he would pin her against the wall and make her legs shake as he fucks her, pulling her hair and tell her how pretty she looks with her eyeliner running down her cheeks. But she loves that he can tell; he can tell what kind of sex she needs.

The grounding kind.

The loving kind.

There was plenty of time for the rough kind later.

Theo presses closer to her, removing his hand from between her legs and snakes it up her torso, his hand wrapping around her chest and holding her in place as his other fingers travel to her center. Pansy can feel herself breathing hard and mewls slightly when he presses against her clit lightly. Theo pushes kisses against her shoulders, and she reaches back from the wall with her left hand, fingers moving into his hair.

Forgive her, please.

Pansy stifles a sob, and feels Theo still for a moment before he moves his lips next to her ear, and pushes his fingers inside of her.

“I’m right here. We’re together, me and you, a little family.”

Pansy can feel her thighs tremble as he increases pressure on her clit with his thumb while his other two fingers are pumping slowly inside her.

“You’re ok, sweetheart. I’m so sorry about today, we will make tomorrow better.” He promises and moves his hand faster. “We’re together.”

He continues to pump his hands, whispering encouraging words into her hair until she feels the tears are gone and the pressure starts to build in her lower abdomen. It’s consuming, and her breathing starts to pick up rapidly.

She forgets about Ravenna, about the disappointed look Narcissa had given her before she apparated, or about Thames’ howler and all the absurd words he called her. She forgets about the lonely Christmases and the disapproving letters she received from her parents when she got a B+ in her Astronomy quiz, she forgets how cold Ravenna would be during holiday visits.

It’s just her. Her and Theo. Their little family.

She can feel it building in her lower abdomen and tries to steady herself as she reaches the top of the peak, Theo’s rhythm urging her, coaxing her to fall over.

With a small cry she comes against his hands, pulling at the strands of his hair slightly and pushing against him. Her breathing is fast, her chest rising steadily, and she can hear Theo encouraging her.

“There you go love, such a good girl. So beautiful.”

She turns her head, pulling his face to hers and kisses him. He tastes like hope.

“You are not worthless. I love you so much, your fathers wrong about you. You are not worthless. You hear me?” Theo says, lifting his eyebrows as he looks at her. She removes her hands from the wall, turning in his arms. The water has cooled down significantly, and she buries her face in his chest. Her mother may be gone, and while she knew they had not reconciled, Pansy would eventually put Ravenna to rest. She knew she could, especially with Theo by her side.

“I know.”

It's today! It's today!

After working for months on this fic and with the help of the beautiful art @paustark and Kappapathique (in X), today we can see fruits of all of our efforts.

Thanks to @queenpunk, @paustark and Kappapathique (in X), it was a pleasure collaborating with you.

@ichirukicollab

it’s the heart, doc

(aka he’s making medical appointments to get “brave patient candies”)

Prompt: Sleep

Title: To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

Summary: Shoko doesn't sleep for a reason

Word Count:

Rating: T

Pair: Soft Gojo/Shoko (SaShoSu if you squint), mostly comfort with angsty tones because I can't write just fluffy to save my soul.

Shoko doesn't sleep.

Not really. She can nap. She can catch snatches of rest between breaks, between lunches and against stone walls during shady afternoons. It is mostly just her shutting her eyes, breathing slowly and pretending, but it helps. Keeps the lie up, allows her to answer anyone who asks that yes, she rested.

She did. Promise. Pinky swear.

The bruised colored circles under her eyes seem to scream otherwise, to the point she stopped trying to muffle them with make-up years ago, but hey a girl has to try right?

"You need to sleep at some point, Ieiri." Yaga gruffly recommends at the end of their meeting. She has spent that last forty-eight hours awake (not even a record by the way, hardly even a blip) elbow deep in curse guts. Then another five, writing up the a report about her findings for this stupid meeting. "People are going to assume I am running you ragged."

Shoko thinks about the six cursed bodies waiting down in the morgue and the three mangled corpses in the freezer.

"Aren't you?"

Yaga who has had years to learn how to deal with Shoko's casual, pointed words simply waves her away.

"Get some rest."

"Will do."

And she does.

Head bowed, cradled in her arms at her desk while waiting for the blood samples to finish. Solid thirty minutes at least.

Good job her, right?

+

"You look like shit."

"Fuck you too." Shoko spits back at Nanami who ignores her and pours her another drink. They are once again holed up in his apartment. It's nice, but kinda boring. Clean, but empty. He spends about as much time here as she spends at her own, which is next to never. Exception being when he manages to wrestle her out of the morgue and he doesn't have a case the next day. Then they go to his, order too much food and drink until Shoko has to help heal their livers in the morning.

Its a self inflicting exercise in flagellation but it is better than the alternative. Probably.

"You aren't sleeping again?" He notes, just as she is taking a sip because he is actually a bigger asshole than even herself. Most people get blinded by the pressed suits and air of dignified annoyance but yeah, deep down, Nanami Kento is still that emo-looking asshole who listens to My Chemical Romance and enjoys being a troll.

Shoko feels her throat tighten, a lie on the tip of her tongue that drowns in the booze and hacks out as a cough instead.

"Are you?"

Nanami shrugs, "A bit. More than you."

"You really talk to your elders like that?"

"Sorry, more than you, Senpai. Better?"

"No."

"Ah, well. I tried." He deadpans, reaching for another chip and chewing it as he watches her go through her head for an insult but fails and gives up by flopping backwards. Her body stretched out on the floor, hair fanned out like dark wave.

"I rest." She says, "I cat nap. Worst case, I do a bit foosh foosh and I'm good as new."

"That's not sleep."

"Your mom is not sleep." She mumbles out.

"He isn't in Japan, I take it?"

Nanami Kento has to lean to the side in order to miss getting hit by the sudden launch of a wadded up paper receipt.

Shoko does not reply nor does she get up to see if she has hit her target.

"If he finds out about all this, he won't be happy."

Shoko gives a sullen huff, indicating how much she cares about the opinion of the gangly white haired man with blue furby eyes who isn't currently in the country.

Nanami sighs, takes a sip of his own drink and waits for Shoko to rise back up from her drunken depths. Eventually goading her into playing super mario cart until the sun rises.

It isn't sleep, and both will suffer in the days after, but it's good in other ways. A different sort of recharge she can't get with caffeinated drinks and naps in her car.

+

There is a loud knock at her office door that brings Shoko back into reality. Hard. She doesn't remember when she left it, but she does know she jerks back into her body with enough force to jostle her third cup of coffee all down her shirt.

"Fuck." She hisses, grateful it was cold but also when did it get cold? Didn't she just make a new pot?

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." Megumi politely apologizes. He is one of the few students who actually can remember to say and mean it. She has no idea where he learned it considering every other student is half feral and his teacher is basically five raccoons in trench coat with an addiction to sugar.

"I was zoned out," She admits, putting the cup down and searching for something to clean up with. It takes some digging but eventually she finds some napkins in her purse. "What do you need?"

Megumi, for all his blank face, seems deeply uncomfortable and that is all it takes for Shoko to figure out what is happening.

"Ugh. Dont tell me he roped you in on this too."

"He won't stop texting."

"Megumi, you are suppose to be stronger than this." Shoko sighs, deeply disappointed.

"He sent a singing telegram to me yesterday and threatened to keep doing so until I sent proof." The teen explained, frustrated and more than a little embarrassed. She can tell by the way he gets louder than normal and the way the tips of his ears flush red. "That idiot has way too much time and access to money, Shoko. So let's just get this over with before he gets any other ideas."

Megumi hands her a folded up newspaper.

Shoko unravels it. "What is this for?"

"Hold it up next to you. He said he wants proof of life."

She does as he asks, but also flips him the middle finger. Making sure to frown hard as he takes the picture and sends it off.

"This was overkill."

"I agree." He replies and takes back the newspaper, then there is a series of urgent beeps from his phone. He reads the texts aloud. "He said you look like crap. Get some sleep or else. Something something about posting that picture from first year?"

"Tell that idiot I burned all evidence of that."

Megumi does and the answer is immediate.

"He says Myspace is forever." Megumi blinks, "What is myspace?"

"An ancient wasteland." Shoko tells him blithely and snatches the phone. Sending a series of complicated, odd and distinctly menacing emojis (it involves a lot of skulls, eggplants and fire) before handing it back. "There. That should keep him from using you to bother me. At least for now."

"Thanks."

The kid pockets his phone and nods, but before he leaves, he gives her one more deep concerning look.

"He should be back soon."

"Eh. Maybe. Might also get sidetracked by a dessert food truck too."

"Maybe." Megumi says, albeit doubtfully. Shoko chooses to ignore it and waves him off.

She still has work to do after all.

+

The thing about Shoko not sleeping is that it is on purpose as just as much as it isnt.

Sure, her work hours are probably enough to be a crime against OSHA or the Geneva Convention, and yes she often works alone because there is literally no one else with her gift but what else is she going to do? Go home? Ignore her dying comrades, the piling corpses and curses?

It is a shit job, but that is just how it goes. Could be worse. Probably. Shoko dances along the line of caring too much and not at all too often, to be a good voice of reason about these things.

That is the other side of it.

The part where she has seen too much. Touched too often, the worse bits of what remains. It is all on her to see what it all boils down to in the end and as much as she would like to pretend otherwise, it leaves a stain on her mind.

On her dreams.

It was easier when she could remember less; when she could numb with cigarettes, drink and love. Pressed between the lanky body of one, the compact slender of another. It was easier when the faces she preformed on did not have names in her heart.

It was easier when she was young, dumb and believed the future could be better if they just tried.

Now she is a little smarter, older and well aware of the utter shit show they are all forced to dance in. She knows her part, her limited turns and while she might still hate it all the way down to her bones she also knows the push to break it all down won't come without consequences.

She has already spent half a life burying his after all

So no. She never sleeps well on her own because every time she does, her mind fills with old memories that haunt her to tears. Or reminds her of the friend's she lost or worse, the ones she has yet to lose and really, if she has to pick. She would never sleep again if she could. Just to save herself the pain.

She is not a warrior, she does not suffer well when it comes down to it. She has a hungry heart and it starves like a wild thing, out of wanting. It wants love and it wants safety and it wants to go back in time and hold everything tight enough to bruise.

Shoko does not sleep for fear of the dreams.

-except when Satoru makes her.

"You haven't been sleeping again." He remarks, echoing Nanami but his tone all snark. It is past midnight and for once she is home. Driven there by a storm that closed down the school. She had heard the front door open, but hadn't bothered to move from the couch where she is nestled, reading some filthy smut novel that Mei Mei sent.

There was only one man with a key.

"Oh no. Who let the secret out?" Shoko mocks back with too slow of a response. She is just getting to the good part where the overly handsome, very rich CEO fucks his newly hired help over a leather couch. "Was it Ijichi? Sucha gossip."

Satoru snorts, kicks off his shows and practically bounces from one end of the room to the other, diving towards the couch and land haphazardly in her lap. Shoko, already mentally prepared for this, merely jostles unhappily before going back to her book. Resting the edge of it atop of Satoru's head. He had rested it first on her chest so this was fair.

"As if. That man will take your secrets to the grave. His crush is out of control. I saw him buying you a novelty travel mug today. Says best boss in the world."

"Aw, don't tease him. It's just a crush."

"Gonna tease him harder." Satoru promises, snuggling in. Stupid long limbs snaking in and around her body until Shoko cannot sigh without Satoru moving too. She gives up and closes the book. Letting it fall from her fingers to the floor so she is free to let them pet his white strands back. He closes his eyes and hums.

"Take a nap with me."

"Not tired." She lies.

"Liar."

Shoko cant help but smile at him.

"Yeah. Maybe. Can you blame me?"

Satoru, whose scars mirror her own simply holds her tighter.

"I will keep your nightmares at bay if you do the same for mine." He offers, and it is nothing more than a child's offer to hold hands in the dark, neither really has the power to fight off dreams but it relaxes Shoko more than anything else in the world. She gathers a throw blanket over them and places a kiss on his forehead.

"Deal."

Shoko falls asleep with a soft smile.

How toriyama drew Manga

RIP, my king. Thank you for creating my childhood and getting me through tough times

Goodbye and thank you, Mr. Toriyama...

Sobbing in a corner. RIP, my king.

Rest in peace, Toriyama.

My heart hurts. It legit hurts so much that I feel there is a hole somewhere between my abdomen and chest. I don't even know why I'm typing this.

Dragon ball and DBZ were what made kid me's day a little more bearable. As someone who did not have a very good childhood, I still revisit the feeling of rushing home to catch an episode of dragon ball. It's one of the few memories I have not repressed and puts a smile on my face when I remember the feeling of being on time to catch the OP.

I was bullied as a kid and had no friends but I did not mind that as I had to watch an episode of DB/DBZ at home so what did it matter if the girls in my class did not invite me to play with them after school? I had better things to do and to be very honest, I would have declined anything if it meant I was gonna miss an episode even if I could catch the same episode at night (which I did daily despite watching the same episode in the afternoon).

I know there are many like me who watched Goku and his friends get up and work on themselves with a smile on their face even when everything was against them and it gave them hope that maybe tomorrow would be kinder and even if it were not, we could learn something and be a little more resilient.

Watching the gang reunite after the time gap made me wish I had friends like that. That even if things changed somethings would not.

When I developed an ED in fourth grade, I could not eat without my brain turning against me. My appetite was dead and my mum would force a bowl of food on me after school. It would take me a long time to eat even a scoop of rice but I'd always put on DBZ and take small bites as the episode progressed. This became a ritual and I'd manage to eat lunch and dinner while watching DBZ.

Even though I've grown up and a lot of things have changed, dragon ball is something I still cherish so much. It is 'the' medium in my life which has been a constant companion. When I'm feeling down I'd put the OP or an episode or read a couple of chapters from the manga and I'd feel a bit better. I don't know how to frame this is words but I'm so thankful for dragon ball existing in the same world as me and at the same time because it really helped me a lot and made every day a bit easier for a five year old me.

I never thought Toriyama would die to be very honest. I know it sounds ridiculous but to me he was so much bigger than someone who could just die. I don't know if I am making any sense here but he was a larger than life figure. Someone beyond mortality. Now, I understand how ridiculous that thought process was.

I've never been into celebrity culture or care about these things so I'm surprised how hard I'm taking this.

I hope Toriyama knew how much his work meant and impacted a lot of people's life in a positive way. That no matter the criticism and sometimes hate, the world and characters he created resonated with so many of us. The world of dragon ball made me feel as if anything and everything was possible. Magic and science co existing together like that was nothing short of breathtaking and I loved and still love every minute of it even if sometimes some scenes would stretch on for days.

I've been pumped for diama and I still look forward to it but things will not be the same anymore. Rest in peace, Toriyama. We will miss you a lot.

I love em so much

official SatoShoko content but it’s just cropped since there’s no standalone SatoShoko content that I can find of:

I miss these amvs so much! We should bring back the amvs, guys. It was so fun.

They destroy me! Anyway bring back Ichiruki edits/amvs!!!

creds: @alluraspalace (me)

There goes my ichiruki heart

See, Ichigo byaku-boo get's it! *points towards Byakuya aggressively*

So here’s the omake @ichiyuki posted translated to English.

It was always a real thing, people

The arc of all arcs. It's pure perfection and the Ichiruki feels get me every time. Gotta go and sob about them brb.

This is so cute. Someone write a fanfic asap please!

okay so Shoko running into her old childhood friends from middle school/junior high is so funny to me because imagine being one of Shoko’s old friends

Imagine one of your best friends since forever suddenly leaves for some rich private boarding school that you can barely find info about online or anywhere else

And then you run into her in person after a while since you haven’t spoken to her besides texting or calls and whatnot

Like, running into her was purely by accident, Friday afternoon right out of classes and at the mall then you actually see her in person and she’s done a complete 180 since the last time you saw each other

Hanging out with a bunch of guys, smoking, way more laidback than before

———

I just know her old friends would be like:

“W-Wait! SHOKO?! We haven’t seen you in forever!”

Then they’d get suspicious because Shoko’s hanging out with a bunch of guys

I mean, you’ve got Satoru (who’s just an ikemen boy and actually her dumbass boyfriend) Geto (bad boy stereotype) Haibara (golden retriever energy) and Nanami (serious guy)

And Satoru does NOT help their suspicions by acting suspicious as hell and (accidentally) protective of Shoko meanwhile everyone else is just friendly with them

———

“You dumbass! Now they’re gonna think you’re a total psycho!” *whacks Satoru in the head*

“Ow! Shoko! I didn’t mean to! They were looking at me funny! I had to make it obvious that I was taken!”

“Great… Now I don’t want to think what would happen if you met my old mutual guy friends from my old school…”

“It depends, did any of them have feelings for you…?”

“Satoru, seriously…”

“I’ll whack you again…”

“Ow-! Shoko!!!

I miss the old fandom feels too!

☾ For the IchiRuki Archive ☀ -> Deathberry.com: a website that ran for a few years (approximately 2012 to 2017) & served as a forum for ichiruki fans to discuss and chat with each other, both about IR as well as other topics/manga. The first two images are what the site looked like, the first version and then updated. The last one was my signature. They had a very fun option for users to submit their favorite bleach chapter, quote, and image and have it turned into a stamp you can use in your signature. The top left corner was your favored chapter, top right is your favorite quote, bottom left was the Deathberry logo, and bottom right was your username (mine was Mira-hime), as well as your birthday (04/21) and your number. I was user 160. ♡♡