excuse me brotp

But do you know what’s something people don’t talk about enough?

That when Gon and Killua are having their heartfelt departing moment in episode 147 in hxh, they both look like this:

But as soon as they turn away and the other can’t see their face anymore, they look like this:

- cue Reason by Yuzu and tears, lots of tears - 

Stardust - Ericine - Star Trek: The Next Generation [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, Multi

Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation

Relationship: Beverly Crusher/Deanna Troi

Characters: Beverly Crusher, Deanna Troi

Additional Tags: Bathing/Washing, Hair, Hair Washing, Long Hair, Parenthood, Motherhood, it takes a village, Children, Femslash, Betazoid Culture and Customs, Empathy, Alien Rituals, soh-chim, Sensuality, Mixed Race, Family, Alien Culture, Klingon Culture and Customs

Summary: Everyone knows Deanna’s good with children, but no one’s ever asked her how she feels about them. Beverly learns an ancient Betazoid ritual to help her talk about it. (Or, Beverly washes Deanna’s hair.)

Written for @sapphicstartrek‘s Femslash Big Bang!

  • Syaoran and Tsubasa sharing brohugs and brofists (゜▽゜;)
  • Syaoran and Tsubasa smiling at each other (ノ・∀・)ノ
  • Syaoran and Tsubasa protecting and caring about each other (。✿‿✿。)
  • Syaoran and Tsubasa bonding (ノ´ヮ´)ノ*:・゚✧
  • Syaoran and Tsubasa fanboying and fawning over princesses Sakura and Tsubasa together  ღ’ᴗ’ღ 
  • Syaoran and Tsubasa having cute father and son moments (≧∇≦*)
  • Syaoran and Tsubasa looking hot together  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
  • Syaoran and Tsubasa ☆゚・*:。.:(゚∀゚)゚・*:..:☆

justafakeme  asked:

You're welcome! Btw I read WAY again (cause I hate myself nd enjoy drowning in the feels) and now I have a bunch of random ideas like for the wedding instead of a best man Gray has a best MAID (read Cana) and Juvia has a MAN of honor (aka Gajeel). Also at the ball the reporters started the rumour tha Freed and Lucy are in a secret relationship, can you imagine the tabloids?? I'll stop here before I get carried away, but anyway if you ever feel like writing a oneshot or drawing about WAY, call me


re: the best maid and man of honor thing – i think that was pretty settled the moment Gray and Juvia started dating, my friend. i mean, when they went steady, cana probably already started planning the wedding. levy and lucy definitely helped.

re: tabloids (why u do this now i have to write a thing):

“Mama? MAMA! Have you seen the newspaper today?!”

Freed looked up from his required reading to address the source of the loud noise. Bixlow was in a state of panic. Freed should be worried, but the last time Bix was panicking, it was over his favorite game’s release date being pushed back. So Freed just went back to his reading as he answered calmly. “Of course, Bixlow. I read the newspaper everyday.”

“So you’re okay? With what it says about you?”


Keep reading

NaLu Angst: It Hurts

A/N: What a perfect excuse to write a (ridiculously short) part 2 for that angst I wrote two nights ago.

Welp, happy NaLu Day, everyone (I say ironically because there is no actual NaLu and this is most definitely not happy).

This is also loosely based off personal experience, so it’s also a way for me to let something out.


Genre: Angst

Pairing(s): NaLu

Character(s): Natsu, Gray

“…Natsu, you sure about this?”

“Yeah…not like there’s much I can do about it, anyway. Go on ahead.”

“Listen, I can still talk to them about this. We can get them to move—”

“Don’t bother. It’s both expensive and a pain in the ass—and besides, they’re going to start the day after tomorrow. It’s already too late to switch arrangements now.”


“Just get the hell out of here, Gray. You’re gonna miss your plane.”


Natsu slammed the door in his face.

Natsu stood frozen like that, his hand pressed against the front door and head bowed, probably for the good part of an hour before he could gather himself enough to lower his hand and turn away—turn his back to the door so that he fell against it and let himself sink to the floor in a crumpled mess. His head tilted back until it hit the dark wood, leaving him to stare blankly at the bare ceiling. He looked like a disaster—in a wrinkled, too-large black T-shirt and dirty sweat pants, his pink hair even more tousled and wilder than usual. He’d lost weight. He probably had dark circles under his eyes, too, if he bothered to look in a mirror, but he really couldn’t care less.

Fuck everything.

Everything hurt.

His head.

His eyes.

His chest.

His throat.


Natsu figured that life was just trying to get a rise out of him now with these circumstances, trying to piss him off and get him to hate himself to a point beyond caring.

Well, it was working.

It had been several months since then—several months since Lucy had decided that life wasn’t worth it and ended everything—ended everything before he even had a chance to stop it. She’d called him to see his face one more time, to apologize, to express her gratitude before dying in front of him, behind a screen, hundreds of miles away, by her own hand. It was truly a miracle that he didn’t end up offing himself as well after that.

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t try—he did try, multiple times. But for some reason, he would always be interrupted and stopped. It got to the point that he just decide to give up on dying, because the world obviously didn’t want him gone—like it was telling him that it wasn’t done with him yet.

And he was still here—when he wanted desperately to be somewhere, anywhere else. Somewhere where it didn’t hurt so much just to fucking breathe. Somewhere where it wouldn’t be torture to wake up after a night of restless sleep. Somewhere where he wouldn’t be so Goddamned broken.

His jaw clenched, his throat constricting painfully. How many more people did this world have to take from him this way until it was satisfied?

First his father. Then his brother. And now his girlfriend—the world had forced them through enough hardships to make them break and give up.

Is there something wrong with me?

Was I not enough to keep them here?

Why the fuck am I even here if I can’t even keep from losing them?!

This couldn’t have been coincidence. It couldn’t have been a random fluke that his father, his brother, and his girlfriend decided that they would end their own lives. They didn’t die in accidents. They didn’t die in a shooting or a rampage. They weren’t murdered.

They’d decided to kill themselves. To end their own lives.

And Natsu had been unable to stop any of them. He felt so fucking empty and useless. He felt like a hollow shell with strings attached to make him go about the motions without heart or purpose.

But not even those strings could get him to attend Lucy’s funeral. No, the world was to blame for that. It tugged at his strings, forcing his body to move toward something he could never approach, teasing him, playing with him like a cat would tease and play with its prey before killing it.

He wanted to go. So badly. So badly that something inside of him cracked and snapped under the constant pressure of these damned strings. He wanted to see her face one more time before he could never see it again. He wanted to reach out and touch her face again. He wanted to stroke her hair again. Hold her hand, leave a flower, tell her goodbye to her face, just about anything because he hadn’t been able to hold her in his arms for so long—but he couldn’t. Circumstances just refused to permit.

He was stuck on the other side—so close, but not close enough. So far, but not far enough that he could no longer see her. He could still see her; she was still there, his last memories of her blank face and broken voice haunting him every waking minute and taunting him in his nightmares.

You were so close.

You weren’t fast enough.

You failed again.

You can’t do anything.

You can’t even save one person.

All this is your fault.

Natsu buried his face in his hands, his throat burning in its attempt to break out sobbing, but he knew it wouldn’t come out. He wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t—this was something beyond tears. He was completely numb—he could feel nothing, express nothing. Water couldn’t spill from an empty pool.

He was stuck; he was numb—yet it fucking hurt.

It hurt that he couldn’t even be with her before she was lost forever. It hurt that he couldn’t go see her one last time.

It hurt.