#more angst next chapters

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal. 

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work. 

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that. 

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift. 

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips. 

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look. 

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.” 

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.” 

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss. 

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.” 

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?” 

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments. 

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.” 

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?” 

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.” 

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes. 

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now. 

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious. 

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.” 

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-” 

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest. 

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!” 

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-” 

“That literally doesn’t-” 

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis. 

He sighs wearily. “Your point?” 

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests. 

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?” 

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-” 

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!” 

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-” 

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.” 

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open. 

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his. 

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves. 

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers. 

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again. 

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset. 

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you. 

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it. 

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

~

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?” 

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.” 

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.” 

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens. 

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.” 

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit. 

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars. 

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.” 

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.” 

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth. 

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it. 

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile. 

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted. 

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven)

taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[varpusvaras]

Breha wanted to have a soulmate.

Her parents were soulmates. They both had a mark of the Hand of Skies, the constellation visible during the winters of Aldera, on their left shoulders. Her mother had originally had the right hand of the constellation, while her father had had the left hand, and the mark had completed itself for both of them after they had met each other for the first time. It had been an early match, and her parents had grown up together since they had been ten years old. For as long as Breha remembered, she had looked at their love and connection, and indulged herself in the warmth and familiarity they shared with each other, dreaming of having the same for herself.

Her parents hoped for her to have a soulmate, too.

"Being a Queen is an important task", her mother always said. "Sometimes, it can be very lonely, too. I have gotten over so many moments of doubt with your father on my side."

She didn't talk about the other reason to her, but Breha knew about it anyway. She knew enough other Royals, other Nobles, of people born into influental families all across the Galaxy.

She knew what happened to those who didn't have a soulmate.

A soulmate was a part of you. A soulmate was someone who no one would ever take away from you. A soulmate was someone who would stay at your side.

A soulmate meant protection.

Breha didn't fully believe that her parents would make her marry someone she did not truly want to, but the fear was still there, and it gnawed on her, stronger and stronger, with every passing year. Alderaan was an affluent world, after all. Old, rich, and located in the Core. Many would be vying for the hand of the future Queen, if it was free for the taking.

Her parents had both gotten their marks at nine years old. Most people on Alderaan got their marks before their tenth birthday.

Breha's twelfth birthday had come and gone, and her thirteenth was fastly approaching, and there was nothing.

She didn't dare to speak about her growing nervousness to her parents. It felt like she would be insulting them, by insinuating that she thought that they would force her into something she did not want. She couldn't just keep it all inside, either, as it continued to bother her more and more.

In the end, she went to her grandmother.

"Sometimes it just takes time", her grandmother said, stroking Breha's back as Breha sniffled against her collar. "Sometimes the Galaxy and the Force has to look at things a little deeper, and to take a lot of things to consideration, things that you and me, or no one else, for that matter, has no idea about. It has to look at so many options before making the decision, so that the decision is the right one."

It did make Breha feel a little better. Maybe she had hope. Maybe she or whoever it was, at the other side, was just a little difficult to match with. Breha didn't think of herself as particularly difficult or complex, but maybe the Force knew something tha she didn't.

So she kept her hopes up, and she waited.

--- ---

She got her mark a week before her birthday.

She had noticed it immediately after waking up, and she had jumped out of her bed and ran to her parents to show it, without even bothering to change out of her nightgown before going.

Not that they cared, as they were just as happy as Breha herself.

The mark was a small flower, on the inside of her left wrist, with seven rounded petals that turned to sharp points at the last second. Breha thought it looked a lot like a star, if one had been turned into a flower.

Her grandmother agreed when Breha showed the mark to her.

"It's a forest star", she told her, "they grow in very deep forests, where sunlight comes through the trees only in small dots, and all the colors are dark and the ground is always glistening with water."

She turned Breha's hand a little to see the mark better, as it was sitting off center, on the right side of Breha's forearm. She was quiet for a moment as she looked at it, clearly contemplating her next words.

"What is most notable of them", she said, finally, "is that they always grow in group of threes."

She ran her fingers over the mark once more, and then gave Breha's hand a little pat.

"It's a beautiful mark", she told Breha, smiling. "With a mark like that, you're going to have a wonderful soulmate, I already know it."

Breha believed her. She had been right about the mark. She would be right about her soulmate as well.

--- ---

Breha met Bail Prestor when she was just shy of seventeen, after she had finally gotten her feet properly back under herself. She noticed him immediately, and joined him and his father to a debate between few other noblemen of Alderaan, that had been invited to the Palace.

She took his side against one of them, and when Bail turned to look at her and smiled, a little unsure but genuine still, Breha felt like something had bloomed underneath her skin.

When she looked down, there was another flower on her arm, on the opposite side of her original one.

She lifted her eyes back to Bail, to see him looking at her now with surprise in his eyes and equal amount of surprise in the smile he still had on his face.

Breha smiled back at him, brightly, with joy and relief.

--- ---

"I will do my best", Bail promised her that night, "no matter what, I will be the soulmate you deserve."

Breha believed him.

"Thank you", she said. "I will do so as well, for you."

She was there for Bail just as much as Bail was for her, after all.

--- ---

"I must admit", Bail said one day, when they were walking through the gardens on a late afternoon. "I am still a little surprised about the mark."

"How so?" Breha asked. She had the feeling that Bail wasn't talking about being the soulmate of the Princess.

"My mother looked up the flower when I got my mark", he said. "She told me that they grow in threes. I expected you two have two flowers, or something similar, I think."

That was right. Breha glanced at their hands. They had both received each other's mark, so they had fullfilled the mark for each other, but the flowers sat apart from each other on their skins, leaving a gap between them.

A gap, just wide enough, that a third flower could fit in between, linking their flowers to each other.

"That would've made sense", Breha admitted. "My grandmother told me the same. We have fullfilled each other's marks, though. I think that is the most important thing."

"It is", Bail said. "It just makes me think..."

He looked down on their hands, and then up at the sky, right past the mountaintops.

"If there is someone out there, with a single flower on their hand", he murmured, reaching for Breha's hand as he spoke.

Breha laced their fingers together, and thought.

All marks had a meaning. A point of connection. Like her parents, with each one side of a whole constellation, two hands made of stars, always meant to be holding each other.

Wouldn't it mean something, too, for her and Bail to have flowers that always grew in threes?

Breha looked up at the sky as well, and she wondered.

--- ---

Years went by. Breha married Bail. She became the Queen.

There were two flowers on each of their arms, apart from each other, with just enough space for a third one in between them.

--- ---

Being a Queen was sometimes lonely work.

What her father had not told her, was that being a Senator was sometimes just as lonely.

During the longest days, Breha would look down on her hand, to the two flowers on her skin, her own and Bail's, and she would draw strength from seeing the proof of the connection she and Bail had, even when the void of space was in between them.

She knew Bail did the same, and Breha was happy that she had been able to give him that connection, that lasted over time and distance.

She looked at her mark for a long time, when the word of the war starting reached Alderaan.

--- ---

Bail was calling her in the middle of her Court.

Usually, when he had something to tell her during their work hours, Bail would send her a message and ask her to call him, or call Visaiya, if it was something more urgent. It wasn't like him to call her like this, without sending a word out first.

She looked up at her Ministers, and gave a signal.

"My deepest apologies", she said, standing up. "I am afraid that I have to take an incoming call right away from the Viceroy."

There were no objections. The war had forced them to raise their means of security on both Alderaan and Coruscant, especially since Bail had not confined himself to only inside the Senate and the House. Anything sudden regarding him was treated with utmost gravity.

She stepped outside the Courtroom into the foyer to answer.

"Are you alright?" She asked, instantly, when the call connected and Bail's image appeared. "What's going on?"

Bail didn't look injured or even angry or crestfallen or anything of the sort that she had kind of expected.

Instead, he looked almost flustered when he looked at her, his eyes wide open, like something entirely unexpected had happened.

"I am alright", Bail answered, and then drew in a deep breath. "Something has happened, and I needed to tell you about it right away."

Before Breha could ask more, Bail pulled up his sleeve, and turned his hand around to show her.

There, on the inside of his arm, right at his left wrist, were three flowers.

It was just like Breha had imagined it. The third flower, right in the middle of the other two, interlocked its petals precisely with the flowers on both sides of it, and so linked them all together, with no space left between them anymore.

Breha lifted her eyes to Bail, who was looking at her, like he was just waiting for her to say something.

Breha had just one thing to say to him.

"Who?" She asked.

"I don't know", Bail answered.

It was not what she had expected him to say at all.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I was just returning to my office", Bail said. "I had to wait a little since there had been some sort of incident, and the troopers needed a little more time to clear things up, and then I just felt it. And there it is, now."

Breha looked at the mark again.

Three flowers, right next to each other, interlocked.

There was a rule in giving and receiving another part of the mark, and fullfilling it.

There needed to be a point of connection in order for it to happen. It wouldn't happen simply for being in the same space with the other. There needed to be a moment of true attention, intentionally given and received, for the connection to happen.

That meant that Breha had more to ask.

"Who did you talk to?" She asked. "When it happened?"

She hadn't even needed to ask. Bail had already arrived back to the point himself.

"Oh", he said, then thought for a moment. "I think I need to have a word with the Commander of the Guard."

Breha knew from the moment Bail said those words, that many things were about to change irrevocably.

She looked Bail in the eyes, and she knew that he knew it too.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 3

Gotham Academy High School was the sort of school where almost everyone was elite in some way or another. Some of them were from old money like Damian who held himself up to a very high standard in his academics and was the top of the class. Others from new money like Dash and the rest of his cohorts became very hateful of somebody like Danny who was given a scholarship by Bruce Wayne, in their eyes Danny was taking advantage of Damian not even knowing that Damian approached Danny for companionship two years ago.

This also meant that everyone including the teachers would compare Danny and Damian to each other even though they weren’t brothers. That didn’t matter though as Danny was associated with them so that was all the reason they needed.

Danny groaned as he sunk into the seat next to Damian. The lunchroom was filled with chatting students and Danny was glad he shared the next class with Damian, which happened to be English. Dash never bothered Danny when Damian was around, probably because Damian had threatened the jock. How he was threatened Danny didn’t know, Damian never told him what happened and he was a little scared to ask. 

The guy hadn’t stopped harassing Danny since he and Jazz transferred a couple years ago. The school year had barely begun and Dash had made Danny his primary target like he was making up for lost time over the summer. Danny sighed as he dropped his paper bagged lunch on the table with a little plop. Jazz had packed for him this morning hopefully before his parents arrived and contaminated the entire kitchen.

“Dash again?” his sister asked across the table, she was seated next to Tim.

“I was paired against him in dodgeball again,” Danny lamented, his head resting on his arms that were crossed on the table.

“Danny, could you just talk to Mr. Lancer or something?” Jazz asked before she took a bite from her sandwich.

Danny sighed again and unpacked his lunch, “I have but no one will listen! They all act like I’m lying or something.” The teachers at this school probably wouldn’t listen to a charity case like him. Dash was a football player and had plans to become captain of the team. Everyone at the school loved Dash and it was precisely why everyone except maybe the four students at the table they were seated looked down and sometimes even bullied Danny.

Danny ignored it all eventually, it was better just to let the jock tire himself out. 

Once Danny and Damian finished eating they made their way to English. Luckily it was easy to carry the material for a class that only required a small binder and whatever book they were reading, in this case it was ‘gone with the wind’. Danny didn’t really care about reading old literature like this but he did what he had to maintain the grades he had. He’d endure anything, even Dash’s bullying, to become an astronaut.

Danny could hardly concentrate today through his afternoon classes. For some reason he had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. He tried his best to ignore it, he was probably just tired or something. Soon the school day was out and Danny packed up whatever homework he had for the day and headed outside to wait with Jazz. Damian and Tim were probably wrapping up their classes. Tim had an AP class that ran an extra 30 minutes and Damian’s last class was art, they were doing a painting and it wasn’t unusual for Damian to finish up what he was working on as he found out over the last few years that he enjoyed painting.

“… Do you think it’ll work?” Jazz asked a hint of hesitation in her voice. Danny knew she was talking about the portal, the both of them had talked about it before. Danny glanced over at his sister, he could tell she was having trouble sleeping lately, her face looked tired and her posture was stiff with her arms crossed in front of her. Both of them had anxiety about the possibilities the portal possessed, and they were especially worried that their parents wouldn’t take it well if the portal didn’t work. 

He was equally concerned that it would work. “I hope not…” he said eventually. It was something that brought the siblings closer as the whole of their family fell apart. How their parents managed to pull off getting the funding in the first place seemed to be a miracle. Everyone called their parents crazy and dismissed all of their science as ludicrous garbage.

Danny wondered how they even managed to stay under Batman's radar, he thought that something like this would be cause for the vigilante to look into it but maybe the thought of ghosts was just that outlandish that even the dark knight himself thought it to be crazy too. Danny himself didn’t believe in anything his parents published, some of the papers even seemed to be biased somehow, even though his parents hadn’t ever actually encountered a ghost. That last part was probably the reason no one bothered to actually investigate his parents, there wasn’t really much to investigate.

The siblings waited in silence and eventually Tim and Damian showed up after their classes and the four headed to Alfred waiting by the car. 

If anyone tried to start a conversation with Danny he wasn’t paying attention. If he was being honest, his parents' portal scared him a lot. He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous about it, both him and Jazz renounced the thought that ghosts could exist. Something deep down in his guts told him that he should turn and run, that what his parents were attempting was taboo and that his parents were tampering with forces unimaginable. 

No one was going to listen to a fourteen year old though so Danny kept his feelings to himself and ignored them. 

Soon they were pulled in front of their apartment and true to their word, Damian and Tim asked Alfred to park nearby. Danny and Jazz took a hesitant glance at each other as they walked into the house. 

[chaosduckies]

Friends In Small Places (Chapter 1)

The size shifter story is finally here! This is more of a slightly sad piece, even though this first chapter isn’t really all that gloomy and monochrome, I actually have this entire plot line planned out and everything, and whew is the ending going to be something.

But I hope you enjoy! (this chapter is mainly just for introductions so I’m sorry if there really isn’t anything interesting TwT)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Depression, major anxiety, slight gore warning? (Though nothing actually happens)

1-Liam

Today the main hall was bustling with people crowding the board that had all of the activities and clubs posted on. Most of the time people didn’t care all too much about it, only the people who were actually in those clubs, but today was different for some reason. Fitting in between the seemingly hundreds of people, I saw what the commotion was all about. The psychology classes were all being called to a meeting at four. Which was when most classes ended, but still. It’s rare that this school ever calls meetings. It just so happens that I was taking psychology though. 

I sighed, moving back on the free sidewalk get to the library. A friend was waiting for me to help her study for a test she had in just a few hours. I thought I might as well help seeing that I’ve already taken the course. I used to think that college was extremely strict from how my old high school teachers described it, but in reality it’s not that hard when you just take the time to study and take a few practice tests the day before one. It was just two-and-a-half years before I major in psychology and become a therapist. Well, that was my dream anyways. In this world, it was a lot harder given that most therapists get assigned to a size shifter. That was something I didn’t want to do. Well, maybe if it was one who could only shrink, but that’s maybe it. It freaks me out knowing that there are some shifters who could be as tall as a small skyscraper, and some even bigger. A shiver ran down my spine even thinking about it. But that won’t happen. 

Among the few people sitting at the quiet tables lines with pencils, a few pieces of notebook paper, and a lamp that barely even worked, there was a girl waving her arms around aimlessly trying to gain my attention. I laughed softly before walking and sitting down next to her. It seemed she had been here for hours with how she kept her space. Papers spewed all across with scribbled down notes that was barely even legible, colored pens in a mixed mess with her other writing supplies. It made you wonder how she had even made it to college. 

“I see you’ve been hard at work, Rhya.” I set my slightly heavy bag down and started attempting to clean up the vast sums of paper all over the desk and try to keep her notes in order. 

“Yeah well, not everyone can be all neat and tidy as you are.” She lightly elbowed me before grabbing the stack of papers in my hand and shoving them in a folder. I guess she was going to re-do them after all. Either that or she didn’t need them. Despite this being primarily a nursing and health school, Rhya was in the art department. Of course she had to take the core classes along with her own elective, but she plans on becoming a graphic designer. 

“It’s not my fault I know how to study and you don’t.” I joked around, watching her pull out her computer and grab a few empty pages on notebook paper and her calculus book. 

“And it’s not my fault you don’t know how to have any fun.” She stuck her tongue out playfully before pulling up a practice test. 

“Hey I know how to have fun, just not when I know I have better things to worry about.” She solved the first problem right, pumping her fist up in the air as she wrote down the question and highlighted everything she needed to do. I’m also guessing she planned to study whatever notes she was making. 

“I guess you have a point. How’s that psychology major coming along?” She had asked, writing down the problem and attempting to solve it. I sighed, pointing to the number she was missing, “You square root that,” Rhya groaned, “It’s going good. We have some kind of weird meeting later today though.” 

“Oh? Do you know what about?” Rhya asked, but I could tell she was hiding something from me. She knew something. 

“No. Do you?” I skeptically looked at her, earning a side eye right back as she had paused her writing for a moment. 

“Would you believe me if I said no?” She grumbled, I shook my head, a slight smile forming on my face. She knew I would win this argument. 

“Okay well, this might not be true, but I heard that a few psychology students were chosen to have a training. Like, the real deal kind of thing. Size shifter and all. That the ones chosen were supposed to act like one of those special therapists.” My heart nearly skipped a beat at the news. Where did she even hear this from in the first place? There’s no way that’s even real. 

“You’re kidding, right?” I laughed nervously. Even if it was true, I doubt they’d choose a sophomore. I’ve only really had a few practices and I still have a couple more years until I become the real deal. 

“Would I lie to you?” She turned to me, a worried look on her face. Did she think I would have to go through with that? I sincerely doubt it. There was no way they’d put me on whatever list they have going on. Maybe my upperclassman though. They could choose Chelsey, she was really good with everyone and a senior. They’d most likely choose her. Maybe even Ryan since he was really experienced. Actually, he was a size shifter himself, but he’s so good at controlling his emotions that he doesn’t even need to worry about accidentally shooting up a couple feet. 

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. I doubt they choose someone with barely any experience. Don't’ worry about it.” I smiled, pointing back to Rhya’s computer to tell her that she needed to get to studying and stop worrying about me. Seriously, she really needed to study otherwise she was going to fail. I can almost guarantee that she’ll be crying to me later when she fails her test. Not my fault she doesn’t study. 

——————

The gym was a large space, but our entire class only took up one tiny portion of the bleacher space as our instructor and several other people dressed up in fancy suits were talking on the ground. I sat next to Ryan, who was playing with the green-colored band on his wrist, showing that he was in one of the five classes of size shifters. Purple represented that they could shrink down to an inch or maybe even smaller if their emotions had the better of them. Blue represented that they could shrink too, but not as much as the one’s with a purple wrist. Green represented that they could both shrink and grow, but only to a certain height. Yellow meant that the shifter could grow to be the size of about a small building, or maybe even a little more depending on how they’re feeling. Red was by far the worst one. To me at least. The shifter’s with a red band can grow to heights you could only dream of. Which was why all shifters with a red band were all forced to be with a specialized therapist for only them. Because if they lose control of their emotions, it could end pretty badly.  

“I’m glad you all saw the announcement on the board. I’m a little surprised really.” Mr. Smith shoved his hands in his front pant pockets, taking a look at all of us before his eyes laid on me, smiling warmly. Why? Something was up. 

“These two gentlemen here are the head of the SSU. Also known as the company that helps size shifters in need. Recently, there has been a shortage of individuals that are willing to work with shifters in helping them control themselves. These two are on the look for candidates-in-training to help fill those missing spots.” 

The two men in suits walked to the front, holding out a clipboard. Those had whoever was going to be picked for this. But why this school? There was another college not too far from here. They could choose from them. Unless they were, and the “tiny” shortage was actually a big one. Or… no. They wouldn’t do that, right? It’s the SSU, they’ve literally helped the world become safer for decades. They wouldn’t be doing an experiment, would they? 

“It’s wonderful to see all sixty-two of you young scholars gathered here today. As your professor already said, we are both from the head office at SSU looking for the best of the best to fill in those empty spots, regardless if you do or don’t have any experience.” That last part made a shiver run down my spine. Ryan turned his head to me, patting me on the back. There was no way they’d choose a nobody like me. No way in hell. 

“This list contains twenty of you who will be taking part in this. You will be in charge of taking care of your designated partner until we can find a professional replacement suited well enough to take over. If I call your name, please stay behind after we dismiss everyone.” The tall man smiled, looking down at the clipboard and calling several names. The anxiety pricked my skin like icicle shards, it had almost seemed like the man reading off names was speaking in slow motion. A few deep breaths, and it was back to normal. 

“Ryan Wright.” He smiled while earning several compliments and congratulations from his fellow classmates. 

“Chelsey Torres.” She giggled a few seats away from us. 

“And Liam Rover.” 

My muscles tensed up at the mention of my name. I couldn’t tell if my heart had stopped or if it was just beating horrifyingly fast. I could tell people were trying to praise me, but I couldn’t hear, their appraisal only reaching my ears in a muffled and slow manner. I managed the most sincere smile I could while trying to hide how much I was trembling. Maybe this would be okay? Maybe I’ll be lucky and not be paired up with a shifter who could potentially crush me between two if their fingers if they really wished to. Was the room cold or was it just me? 

“Everyone else may head to their dorms. Thank you for coming.” 

After everyone had filed out of the empty gym, the other shorter man dressed in an identical suit as the taller one started calling out our names all over again, handing them a red folder with presumedly the shifter we’ll be assigned. Was this how it was when you’re actually a professional? You just get assigned to one? You don’t get to know them or anything? 

Once I was handed my folder, I dreaded every single second of opening it. Please let it be easy, please let it be easy, please let it be eas-

Oh. 

It was only a picture of who we were partnered up with and anything that might be worth mentioning about them. Wow was I overreacting. Then again, that didn’t exactly smoothen out the anxiety that was still pricking at my skin. Though, this shifter didn’t seem so bad. If anything, he actually looked pretty nice. The only thing I had noticed was that he was diagnosed with depression. He kind of looked like it too if I were being honest. It seemed hard for him to smile for the picture. Why did I also get the hint that he wasn’t feeling very good either? I guess I’ll find out when we officially meet. 

“Inside you’ll find who your partner will be for the foreseeable future. You’ll still be coming to your classes, which was why we mainly wanted to stick with the upperclassmen, and afterward go back to where we are currently housing your designated shifter. You have three days to pack everything you need and want, and you’ll soon be living off campus. Just think of it was having a roommate that needs constant supervision.” 

Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I’m almost entirely confident that this shifter won’t really be a big deal. I mean, he looks about a year or two younger than me. So he just graduated high school? Agh, I have no idea. I’m just jumping to conclusions. But, hopefully they won’t make me handle anything crazy. That I can’t do. 

——————

They were driving me across the city to go meet up with the shifter I’ll be taking care of for however long. For all I know it could be a few days or weeks. I would think someone would want to step up for the job instead of letting students do this, but I guess not. Chelsey and Ryan have texted me a few times that they were getting settled in already while I was still heading over. It was already around thirty minutes just to get across the place, so that means I’ll have to take a bus almost everyday just to make it to my classes. That’s just great, but I’m in no position to complain. I actually tried talking with Professor Smith about it, but he told me that he had no say in the matter at all, which was weird. I doubt he would want his younger students to even take part in this. 

Along the streets were the many, many buildings that both accommodated for humans and their much larger or smaller companions. Although I’ve only ever been around Ryan about twice when he’s giant, it really wasn’t that bad. He can only grow till someone was like the height if his entire hand so it really wasn’t even that bad. Of course it’s still nerve-racking, but I trust him. Plus, we were at a small party with our little friend group. I doubt he could even bring himself to hurt someone. So really I wasn’t too worried. The only other shifter I’ve been around is an old high school friend of mine, but she goes to a different college now. 

Hundred of houses passed by us as we drove into a little neighborhood. What really made me worried was that the driver wasn’t exactly stopping at the normal-sized houses. Where was he going? I watched grimly as some of the huge houses we passed by came to a halt to one on the very end of one of the many streets. This one wasn’t as big as the other one’s down the street, but it wasn’t exactly small either. At least to me. So… I was paired up with a shifter who could only grow. That’s great. Just… great. 

I grabbed my bag and the small suitcase I had brought with me that was just full of my clothes and some stuff for school. Well if I’m supposed to stay here almost all of the time now I have to find something to keep me busy. And apparently from the immense size difference that will be between my new roommate and I. Of course I was terrified! If he really is diagnosed with depression and was a shifter who grew that only made matters worse for me. I hope whoever plans to take over for me does it soon. 

It took me and the driver to reach the doorstep, but eventually the driver gave it a knock. I swear I could hear some mumbling coming from the other side, but I didn’t dwell too much on that. Most.y because the extremely large door started to open slowly, but I saw no one on the other side. Maybe he was shy? 

“Well I may take my leave, though I have been ordered to tell you that a bus comes in the morning at around 6 just down the street from here, and another will take you back here around 5 and 8. Also, if anything goes wrong, to call this number on your phone.” He handed me a folded slip of paper, then took his leave. I shoved the slip in my pocket, hesitantly taking a few steps into the huge house. 

It was neatly cleaned around the place, though I couldn’t really see from my view on the ground. Everything around me was huge. I mean I’ve been to one of the rooms on the bigger side of the campus, but those rooms were smaller. It’s not an entire house filled with furniture. 

As I took a few steps out more, I jumped when the door had lightly closed behind me. My eyes trailed up and up, finding the face of the person I had seen in the picture. His eyes grew wide when I met his gaze, then bit the bottom of his lip before sliding his back against the wall behind him. 

Everything in my body told me to run, but if I did then I would only get scolded for it later. This isn’t even what I wanted to be! I wanted to be a normal therapist that helps regular adults and kids feel better. Not a human who could easily trap me in a fist and just kill me. I would have been fine if they could only shrink, but this was much worse. 

I faced down, taking a few deep breaths that barely even help me in this situation. I had to take care of someone fifty times my own size? How was that even possible? There weren’t even any smaller sized things around this place. Nothing that could help me get around easier either! 

I guess I could attempt to get his name. I mean, nothing could go wrong then, right? Just maybe from a distance… even if he could, at any point in time, just grab me whenever he so wanted. I felt sick just thinking about being held. Wouldn’t I have to be though? I can’t exactly just climb everywhere I want to go. 

“H-hi. Um, I’m Liam.” I forced myself to walk closer, even under his gaze, but I stopped walking closer when he moved himself further in the corner, looking a bit saddened. He probably knew I was scared. Maybe. I hope I’m some-what hiding it well enough. Though, I’ve never really been that good at it. 

“Oh, um, C-Casper. You can call me Cas if you want.” He kept his voice to a very quiet whisper. So he knew that if he talked too loud it would hurt my ears. At least he’s self-aware. Though, I couldn’t help but feel bad. I may be utterly terrified of him, but I mean he hasn’t really given me a reason to be truly scared, yet. 

“Nice to m-meet you, Cas.” I put on my best fake genuine smile. What? Have to find some way to convince him I wasn’t scared. Even if my body was trembling like crazy and my heart threatened to just come right out of my mouth. 

“Y-you too, sir.” His hand slightly twitched, but he just shook his head, giving me a sad look. ‘Sir?’ Why did he call me that? I didn’t dwell on it. Instead, I turned to look at the place, not finding a place to put my stuff. I sighed, hurrying to place it up against the wall opposite of Cas. This would be fine. Yeah, yeah. 

Casper, overall, seemed pretty nice. He had a black, messy hair that complimented his light-brown eyes. He wore a baggy long-sleeve shirt with a pair of jeans I have no idea why he was just wearing jeans in his own house, but it’s whatever he wants to do. Not my place to comment. The only real thing that caught my attention were the light bags in his eyes. Has he been sleeping? 

“Did you want to come here? Like, willingly?” He had asked, slightly leaning a little closer to my spot in the middle of the floor. I admit, it made me a little uneasy, but I don’t think he realized it. It just made it really hard to answer his question when all I could think about was how easily he could kill me right now. He wouldn’t do that, right? He seems so nice. Even if I’m barely two inches to him and I could easily just be crushed or accidentally killed if he wasn’t being too mindful. I shuddered at the thought, but forced my voice to work with me. 

“I-I’m just a student at a college. They just told us we were going to help out shifters, for like, real-world training I guess.” I started speaking a little fast and I could hear my voice slowly get quieter the more Cas seemed to lower his body to me. I felt so small compared to him. It’s overwhelming really, but it’s not like I can just back out. I already asked and they said if I did then I wasn’t cut out to stay in the classes. Seriously, all I wanted was to either be a therapist or a social worker. Not take on these huge responsibilities of making sure an entire living being is doing okay and doesn’t have any malicious intent to just… Aghhhh. 

“Oh. Well, I’m not exactly the best person to be paired up with.” He laughed sadly, holding up his wrist and revealing a red band. A little squeak left my mouth as I stood in place, practically frozen in fear. Why did they pair me up with him? They gave me more than I can handle. There was no way I could do this. I bit the side of my cheek, struggling to keep my composure. 

Cas caught onto my fear, scooting as far away from me as he could while making sure I wouldn’t freak out. Why did he move away? I was going to be fine. I think- But I was okay. Just as long as I keep a certain distance from him for a while. It takes me a long time to adjust to new things, and this might take me a while, but I couldn’t just do nothing. It was obvious to me that Cas was afraid of something, I just couldn’t figure out what just yet. 

“I’m fine, Cas, I promise.” I nervously smiled, hiding how terrified I was. Shifters with a red band can grow to heights you could only dream of. Great. Seriously, what have they done? They think I can handle someone who already looks like he’s struggling to keep himself together just by meeting me? I didn’t really want to find out what would happen if he doesn’t contain his emotions. Was there a person partnered up with him before? I knew I wasn’t going to be getting any answers, but there was no harm in asking them. 

“O-Okay,” He whispered, getting in a more comfortable sitting position, “Are you sure though? I don’t mind giving you an hour or two to get used to… everything.” He looked away for a second, and I could tell something was on his mind. Along with the constant moving away every time I had tried to walk closer, or when he knew I was scared of him, I would think to say that he’s scared of himself. Or, at least hurting other people. It makes sense actually. I’ve heard stories that a lot of shifters realize that they can really hurt people and just try their hardest not to interact with people smaller than themselves. It’s like they collapse on themselves since they don’t want to hurt anyone. I guess Cas and I weren’t so different. 

“Okay, look, it’s obvious that you’re more afraid of yourself than I am of you,” Cas’s eyes widened, “How about we both try to help each other out? I’ll keep trying if you do.” I held out my hand without thinking. A compromise between the two of us. I know we both met like five minutes ago, but I’m pretty sharp for people my age with little experience. But, honestly, maybe this wasn’t so bad. I think all that Cas wanted was the relief that he won’t hurt people. Or something like that. 

“You’d go through with all that? I’m not exactly mentally stable.” I could tell that he was worried, but I just nodded my head, a genuine smile on my face that I hoped he could see. 

He eyed my hand for a while, and I still hadn’t realized what was wrong until he lightly pinched my hand between the tip of his pointer and thumb, barely even lifting it up and down for my own sake. Oh he has no idea how scared I was right now, but he didn’t have to know that. Just a little more pressure and he could just yank my arm right off-I shook that thought away. Don’t think about that right now. It would be okay. Just as long as I get an idea of what to do when he does eventually lose control or something. I had zero idea. I think the thought that stuck in the back of my mind was making me more worried than anything really. I’m just a stress toy for him. But I’ll just have to get over my fear. There was no way I would let this stop me from graduating. Not in a million years.

——————

Sorry for a slightly boring chapter! I did a LOT of world building for this one, and had to map out almost every single interaction through the course of the entire story plot. There also wasn’t much g/t but again, it’s just an introduction chapter. (I’m doing what I love and no one can stop me hehehe-)

But I hope you enjoyed reading! I promise the second chapter will have a much, much better g/t interaction. (Oh trust me it will >:3) I hope you all have a great day/night!

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 6: beginning

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be shy and scatterbrained, or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen, when in reality it’s just what I want to happen. But this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.”

You haven’t told her you love her too in years.'

'And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.

---

You and Megumi set out to prevent an emergency involving Yuuji and a cursed object. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen. But at least everyone is fine in the end, even if it means you'll have to walk away from almost everything (or maybe it's the other way around).

You're going to be all on your own. Still, now it seems like this will hurt less now.

word count: ~8k; tws: none for now :)

17-6-2018 

The two of you walk down the lane. It’s midnight. There’s a loitering silence in the air, no words exchanged between you and him, and it twists your heart in brief moments of hurt when you’re not trying to keep your mind occupied with other things. Your legs move subconsciously without you caring to think of them, the route to the hospital ingrained in your mind as if intrinsically there. 

At some point, you think your hand with its sweat and its grip is going to leave imprints like a marring on his skin, but it’s of your own selfishness that you choose to hold onto his wrist anyway. 

There’s a million things you could say to him right now, things you’ll forcefully push to the very back of your throat, things you’ll keep under lock and key in a mangled mix of quiet anticipation and sombre anxieties. Right now you’re holding his wrist and that’s enough for you, to have him walking behind you if not beside, to be two people near each other— not together— in silence since any conversation is not an option; any conversation could lead to the last spark needed to be fanned into the flame for it to erupt bigger and brighter than ever before. 

If you asked about Tsumiki right now, or why either of them never bothered to speak to you since 2016, it could break you apart, of that you’re sure. And even without words it threatens to do so to you like a chandelier of melting wax candles hanging above you being suspended precariously from the ceiling or light lightning soon to be thrown down mercilessly from the sky. 

“The turning to Sendai Hospital is on the right.” 

“I know the routes better,” you let out, and rather disappointingly it sounds brasher and more derogatory aloud instead of the unobtrusive tone you were aiming for— you hope it doesn’t hurt him but then wonder why you still even cared that much about how he felt about what you said or did anyway, “I got myself accustomed to taking the one on the left that leads you through. Quick shortcut and all.” 

You’re not looking back, but the light pull of his hand from the hold of your wrist seems to suggest his slight reeling back in a small sense of surprise and an equal amount of shock, as if suddenly remembering the fact you were your own person, that you had your own autonomy as one, because somehow everyone thought you weren’t. 

It’s strange to look back at how you were before: meek, timid. Too shy to speak up. Too innocent to be angered by anything. Always dreaming, mind bleary as if on a cloud in blurred skies, hiding behind the backs of others like a petrified forest critter. 

And now you’re this— this person who frowns and disagrees and retorts at every little thing, and as much as you have to, as much as it was nearly inevitable the way you turned out, all you can think you share with the person you were when you first met Megumi and Tsumiki was your need to be useful— and even that has been exacerbated by how you’ve grown, how you’ve become this person you grew into. And a part of you— no, just you as a whole— doesn’t like yourself at all. 

Your father was right. That little girl was hopeful, obedient, kind, caring— you don’t know why even then you were dissatisfied with the way you were, or why your dissatisfaction would matter because at that time you’d cared so little about everything besides caring for people and having fun with the pair of siblings that you were so rarely bothered by it, that it was still just a slight whisper from the back of your head that could be shushed or tuned out with library visits and nights in front of the TV and the glow of old cartoons. Your father was right and this is proved even more by the fact that the whole situation just infuriates you on the surface, and just makes you feel like an empty, hollow shell left behind when you reach deeper into yourself. 

That little girl had potential, potential to be useful but kind, obedient and close to the people who raised her even if it meant abandoning her own ideals. But you’d been so devoted to them, you think, that she was killed and destroyed in the world she grew up in, and now there’s a space for her that’s left vacant due to the way she wasted away. You miss her, the girl you once were, you miss being her, how easy and lighthearted everything was and how all of you felt so content in every sense of the word. But you don’t want her back. Now that’s just what makes you miserable sometimes. 

Self-reflection just made you feel revolted by yourself. You keep your eyes on the road. 

“It’s here,” you state, pointing at the building in front of you. 

Sendai General Hospital is an institution made out of bare concrete. Its walls are yellowed and close in on its wards like a prison, coloured using old paint that hasn’t been repainted over and is as pallid-looking as the skin of the people sitting on the beds it is inhabited by. Just being in it feels like a hit to the body and the brain and the senses, too. There are old-fashioned tiles on its floors, their pale beige hue muted yet the blinding shine on them harshly mopped clean. Inside it reeks of an imminent presence of sickness or death or illnesses and conditions never to be able to be defeated and sterile sanitisers. Looking at the latex-blue curtains in it feels like a blindfold unwantedly, forcefully pulled over both your vision and your ears. 

“You and that Itadori seem close.” 

“We are,” you say, then you add, not really knowing why, “He’s my best friend.” Maybe you’re trying to make him jealous, rile him up a bit. But even then you wouldn’t want him to be riled up, nor would you be satisfied if he were to keep silent. Maybe you just wanted to hurt him, to hurt him back or something, if only for something small, even if you’d already resolved not to do so. 

You’ll make sure not to do that again, though. 

Instead he does something else, takes another route instead. “Then it seems you visit his grandfather often.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod as the two of you enter the hospital, and you have to blink a few times as always in order to adjust yourself to the light and how it reflects off the detachedly clean floor. “My mother’s here, too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry— is she alright?” 

“She’s okay, I… think. She… she got sick a while back and stays here now,” you explain, “Let’s not talk about that…—I mean, I… don’t really want to.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to keep saying that.” It just makes people feel worse. 

He doesn’t push further and you suppose that’s okay. Your chest hurts a bit, like phantom pain on a wound that’s still there. There’s not really a way to explain it but almost everything makes you feel that way these days. Everything makes you feel horrible to some degree. Maybe it’s being a girl, maybe it’s being a teenager, but it’s not quite either, you guess. 

“He won’t be here for a while,” you say, “He’s either still in the room where his grandfather is or he’s buying flowers for him.” 

“Then I’ll just contact them and let them know the whole situation first.” 

Who’s ‘them’? 

“Okay.” You turn your back on him, “—wait.” 

“What?” 

“Do you have any emergency contact or something? Like, a trusted adult who could help you with any of this? In case things go really bad?” 

“...why would you need one?” he questions. 

You roll your eyes, “Just give it to me, damn it… if there’s anything I have nowadays, it’s probably foresight for stuff like this. For emergencies.” 

He gives you the number, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Why’d he have to be so pissy about anything and everything? 

“Okay, thanks. I’m going to visit my mother now.” 

The air and the colour from it seems distant as always, the ward she was basically imprisoned in smelling of the indistinguishable mix of sanitiser and sickness. There her body chains her to her bed, and there is little she can do besides rely on and weakly cling to the nurses who assist her, a frail shadow of what she once was. 

“Hi, Mummy.” 

She turns to you, and your chest constricts. Her hair, once much longer, the type that you dreamed to have as it billowed in the wind, the type that invited you caressively to bury yourself in and take in that heady scent of roses that emanated from it— that hair is now replaced with a cloth wrapped around her head. Radiation. Chemotherapy. 

The wrinkles on her face make the difference between her now and her years ago all the more stark. Every visit you come back here, you’ve forced yourself to be acclimated to this new reality, one where she isn’t waiting at home no matter how tedious the fights get or how exhausting it was eating with someone who remained silent, someone who chose to continue suffering if it meant she could hurt and turn her daughter to guilt (as if that would change anything). At least she was there. 

Cancer is a terminal illness, especially the type your mother is facing— regardless of how much chemotherapy she would struggle through and how much you didn’t want to acknowledge a truth so plain and conspicuously bare, she would be confined to this bed until her final days, her illness like gyves tying her limbs and forcing her earthbound; the bed a cage she could never be liberated from. 

Sometimes she made it a point to you that she didn’t want to liberate herself from it anyway, and you’d never been so depressed yet irked by anything else. (You’d regret everything— not spending time with her, not appreciating her nearly enough— except for your decision to be involved in the Jujutsu world, if not as a sorcerer then as a doctor. That was, and is— your ultimatum. Your end all be all of this whole situation.” 

“Hello. Where’s that Itadori boy?” 

“Not here today, he’s still with his grandfather— maybe later.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, rummaging through it a while before pulling it out. “I’ve something for you, by the way.” 

“Oh! These,” she exclaims, and she smiles faintly, bits of colour rushing back to her face like watercolour dots on moistened paper. “I used to make them for you, sometimes. They used to be your favourite when you were really little.” 

“I know,” you explain, “That’s why I made them. I don’t like them anymore, but… I can’t remember your favourite food or if I ever asked, and I know you don’t like the food they give you here as much as… I don’t know. Your own cooking, I guess.” 

“It’s not my favourite,” she states, matter-of-factly, bluntly, “But thank you for the effort. My favourite will always be my own mother’s cooking.” 

Silence. 

“Now that I look back at everything, there are so many things I regret. Things I should have done but never did out of fear; things I should not have done and never apologised for out of pride. I’d like it if you could be different. Your grandmother went out the same way. At least, even if you had the same illnesses as we did, which I hope the genes for which have been curbed by your father’s— at least you would not leave the world with regret,” she looks down at her hands, staring down at them solemnly like a shadow, an excluded figure. “But it was a good life.” 

“...then maybe you can tell me more. While you— while we still have time. What was your childhood like? What was your mother like?” It feels strange, imposturous, maybe— to be referring to someone basically a stranger as “grandmother”, to name someone so far away from you so intimate, even if the only generation between you, tying the two of you together, was your mother’s. If you had a daughter it would be the same for her, most likely. There’s a part of you that would find honour in becoming your mother once you’d grown, but there’s a part of you that would think being such would accost you horribly, for all time. 

She sighs, “I’ll tell you later. There would be so much to say, like compressing all my words into one tiny paper. The stories have weight in them the same way letters and words in handwriting can be firm and large. But if I were to start,” she begins, “I’ll say that I was born as the daughter of two very powerful sorcerers. Now, I know how much this would sound like some nonsense spouted by your mother, but I think you should listen anyway. 

“My parents loved each other a lot, but my mother had come from an obscure clan whose name I can’t remember, but who had high hopes in them having a child with a powerful cursed technique as their last resort, since, if I recall correctly, there had been a crisis within the clan for it to keep surviving. 

“I still remember when they found out I had no cursed technique and how terrified they were. In me I had a bit more than the relatively normal amount of cursed energy most people have, and so I was expected to have techniques as powerful as they did. They loved me and treated me preciously, like a fragile object, so long as I was quiet and demure— and I guess to some extent I still was and still am today. They wondered what they could do to run from the clan, as if they didn’t have enough power when they were supposed to protect me despite my father’s bullheaded industry and my mother’s patience-formed strength. They lacked grit to grapple against them, and only in this did they lack it, I think; only against my mother’s family did they not have the ability to resolve things whether peacefully or violently. And eventually they just gave up and thought they would just… surrender me over when I entered my adolescent years. I was their daughter. I… suppose they didn’t love me enough. I know it sounds awful— thinking that they should have always protected me, through and through—” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“—when it could have been the clan itself that would have been mostly to blame.” 

“But they were still supposed to protect you! They were your parents—” 

“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be a shy and scatterbrained or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen when in reality it’s just what I want to happen, but this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.” You haven’t told her you love her too in years. 

“But then when I was an adult I met your father, who was a bit like a country bumpkin, but a formidable sorcerer and a kind, honest person, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the person he was both inside and out. And for the next few years we struggled to have a child until I found out I was pregnant with you,” she continues, “Even though by that time I was well into my late thirties, we were overjoyed and decided to keep you.” 

Suddenly you wish there had been more time before things were ruined. Time for you to know her better, the beginning of your existence. You would have begged her for old photos, stories, mementos of her and your father. 

“And now the clan’s faded into obscurity, finally. The younger members left and the older ones passed away peacefully. Happy story, right?” 

“...yeah.” It all ended well, but you don’t know if you can say the same for your mother’s. At least, you hope, when she goes away, it can be swift and peaceful like the way her relatives did. 

Then suddenly there’s a buzz in your pocket. An inconvenient one, out of the blue. 

“You should go get that first,” she says. 

“...okay.” 

You lift it up to your face and feel like crushing the damn thing. Old number. Stupid number. Number you haven’t called in months because you’d given up on that bastard— oh. The two of you were working together now. 

You turn away from your mother, creeping to the edge of the room. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just talked to him, but I think it would be easier if you came back and was there with him too since you know him better than I do. And he… doesn’t seem like the brightest. He may think that it’s not important enough to hand over unless you ask him to or something.” 

You muffle your voice with your hand and whisper, “Hey, you shut up, you know nothing about him. He’s way smarter than people give him credit for. But I’m— I’m with my mother right now. Wait for a second. Just ask him to wait for me first; he wouldn’t need any of my help for all of this yet. Make a friend or get a life or something.” 

“...fine. But you’ll have to join us later. He’s bound to ask about you.” 

“Then just tell him I’m with my mother!” you snap, still whispering. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Wh— you little— oh, don’t you hang up now—” 

Weird thing is, he probably wasn’t even being so infuriating on purpose. And you wouldn’t have burst out at someone for being that way anyway. It was only because it was him, specifically. 

You’d sworn to put that past you. 

Your immaturity strikes once again. 

“If you have to go now,” your mother says, “You should. Just come back again next time. I can tell you the rest. Thank you again for the food, [Name].” She doesn’t call you ‘darling’ anymore, doesn’t she? Just your name. 

“Okay. Sorry.” 

You swing the bag back over your shoulder, wearing it this time instead of taking it off, easing your way out of the room. 

“It’s okay,” she assures you, “Goodbye. I love you.” 

“...I love you, too,” you say, but it’ll mingle with all the other sounds in the hospital, and it’ll be drowned out like a ship in the middle of nowhere, your voice soft and thoroughly soused by the cacophony of bleak noises like telephone rings and beeps from electrocardiographs outside of her deafeningly quiet hospital room. 

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet them in the dimly lit waiting area, “...and Megumi. Sorry to keep the two of you guys waiting for so long.” 

“Oh, hey; it’s okay!” he goes, although in his voice it seems that there’s been some of his usual energy seeping away from him. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other until just now or that you were a part of some magic curse society. Are you guys childhood friends who met because of all that cursed stuff or something?” 

“Something like that,” Megumi explains. 

“It’s a long story,” you say, not exactly denying him nor conceding his words anyway. Once again, there’s a trace of anger despite your promise to be untethered to your puerility like this. “Anyway, are you okay, Yuuji? How’s your grandfather?” 

He pauses. “Oh, about that… he just passed away.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuuji…” you hold the fabric of his jacket (sometimes it still feels wrong to try and hold his hand— it just makes your heart ache again like a scab being clawed at) and pull him into a brief caress, patting his back as gently as you can manage. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” he smiles as you pull yourself away, “Grandpa wouldn’t want me to be crying right now anyway. So don’t worry.” 

“Okay, I won’t. But if you’re sad, just know you can always talk to me.” 

He laughs, softer than the boisterous manner he usually does so in, “Yeah, I know.” 

Megumi clears his throat, pointedly trying to make a sound, “Anyway. Itadori Yuuji—” 

“Just call him Itadori. You don’t have to be so uptight.” 

“Nah, [Name], I’m fine—” 

Megumi sighs. “Anyway, we need you to give the cursed object now.” 

“Oh, yeah, that,” you start, “So, Yuuji, do you have the thing that Megumi would have explained to you? The cursed object? We need it for everyone to be safe, and all.” 

“Yeah! Hold on, let me get it. I told you I didn’t have it already, but here’s the box,” he says, tossing it over to Megumi. 

He retrieves the box. It’s ancient and wooden, the craftsmanship behind it elite and adroit, and the paper on it has the words for a buddhist sutra written on it like an inscription. You’ve heard of it before, the kind of curse it was meant to seal, but it definitely couldn’t be— 

He opens the box. 

Holy shit. 

“Where is it?” 

“It’s empty…” Megumi panics, “Wait— hold on!” 

Things are bad— as in, they couldn’t get any worse— not only was the school doomed by the loss of its cursed object, the cursed object was Sukuna Ryomen’s finger itself. 

You blame your inadequacy, your inability to have stopped everything sooner— if not for that nobody would have gotten hurt. If not for that there wouldn’t even be a risk of anything happening anyway. You should’ve tried harder to sense it, and you should’ve focused more on it to keep the student body safe and sound. 

It was your fault. No one else was to blame but your useless self, and even if that were wrong, you’d still have the most to be blamed for. 

Megumi has a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, keeping the other boy from moving, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide in frantic shock. 

“...well, they were saying, ‘let’s open it up to see what’s inside it tonight’,” Yuuji clarifies, standing a few centimetres away from the door, “Why? Is that bad?” 

Sasaki and Iguchi? 

The air in the hospital feels particularly chilly tonight, gooseflesh terrorising your skin all over, and for all the kinds of reasons that would cause anything like such. 

“It’s way worse than bad,” Megumi declared, fear and grim so thick in his voice they were tangible enough to be cut through with a knife. “Your friends are going to die.” 

“We’ve got to go,” you rush, “Now! Quick!” 

It passes by like a blur, as if you’re in that moment and out of it simultaneously. Your mind has been bombarded with and pressed so thoroughly onto the moment, like tissue on a wet surface, that it seems it’s being blanked out, while your legs continue to run despite your mind nearly forgetting, at this point, why you’re running— as if your legs moving so frantically to help them was something intrinsic, something you didn’t need your mind for. 

Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. 

You didn’t know them all too well, really— just through Yuuji, and Yuuji himself wasn’t as close to the two of them, being their junior and all. And although a part of you was doing this just because you could, like the way you did when you first discovered your cursed technique, you knew that another was doing this for Yuuji. If in any way they were hurt or could not survive, he would blame himself to no end. He possessed such a kindness within him, so much that it hit the depths of your soul sometimes; shattered your heart so gently a million times over or heated it in the kindly way mothers heated pans on stoves despite the heat of it being greater than that of blue flame. If anything happened to them, no matter how much or how little he knew of them, he wouldn’t be able to live after that. 

The two of them are near the barrier separating the school from the street before you (you struggle with catching up to them— one’s a star athlete and another has been training for much longer than you, you’re sure), the gates tall and enveloped in darkness. You didn’t think much of school except for when it came to your grades and being with Yuuji, thinking of these gates— the ones that you and Yuuji use when you’re running super late— in particular as just a shortcut entrance you paid little attention to, just something treated with indifference as you passed through them whenever you were late. Yet now they echoed denial, refusal, and slim chances— it was unlikely that they’d be alright, especially since this cursed object in particular was the finger of Sukuna Ryomen. 

“Is that the building?” Megumi questions, “Where are they?” 

“Fourth floor— guh!” Yuuji seems to come to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming into what seems to be an invisible wall. A veil. 

“Yuuji!” 

“I’ll handle this,” Megumi declares, hopping onto the metal wires, more directed to Yuuji than you. So even he can tell how selfless Yuuji is, even after only having just met him. 

“I may not know those two that well, but—” Yuuji starts, “But they’re friends! I have to help!” 

“You’re staying here,” Megumi commands, “[Name], if you could— get your father or any sorcerers you know to come here and help.” 

He climbs over the gate. 

He’s going away from you again. Slipping away from your grasp. And now, all you can do is watch. There’s nothing else— nothing else you can do, at all. If you went inside now, you wouldn’t be able to help except— what?— tend to their injuries? Manipulate your own cells into weapons? The former wasn’t possible with how much you’d strained yourself from running so quickly earlier, and the latter was too dangerous: you hadn’t even started with the basics of that yet, on your father’s obstinate insistence that even if he’d let you play doctor he wouldn’t let you manipulate any of the cells in your body into any kind of usable weapon. Any simple wrong move could make things turn south in the most drastically terrifying of ways. If you went in there, you’d just die, and there’d be more casualties, more trouble, more problems caused by you and you alone. 

You can’t even call your father, either. That would always be your last resort— because even if you fought, you still needed him to rest. You didn’t want him overexerting himself by using his cursed technique at all. 

(You were selfish. You didn’t want to lose your father. You didn’t want to have to visit not one but two parents lying sick and tired and grey in matching hospital beds.) 

“Yuuji?” you start, turning to him. “You’re…deathly quiet. Are you okay?” 

His lips quiver slightly, a faint whimpering noise coming out of him. Is he crying? 

“Yuuji, look at me. Are you okay?” you ask, as gently and softly as you can right now, despite your ragged, unsteady, unathletic-addled breaths. You place a hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing up and down from his shoulder and crook of his neck to his back. “It’s okay. …Megumi’s a good and… capable, strong person and jujutsu sorcerer. He’ll be okay, and they’ll be okay too. Just… just put your trust in him, okay?” 

“I’m sorry, [Name], but I’ve got to go,” he tells you, “You stay here, and call for help or something. I’m sorry, but I’ve just really got to do it!” 

He hugs you, quickly, deftly. And then he crosses the gate, leaving you all alone like Megumi did. You wish he’d hug you longer, that you could take care of him for a little longer— it was your last way to be useful now. 

Still, there’s someone you could call, now that you remember him.

The emergency contact. 

You snatch your phone out, resolute. 

“Hello! Gojo Satoru speaking,” the voice on the other line says. 

You’ve heard it plenty before by accident. 

When Gojo and Megumi are back, Yuuji’s in the form of a figure slung over Gojo’s shoulders like he’s been reply entrenched into slumber, his body seemingly limp and his torso completely bare. There’s barely an ounce of movement in him, except for slow exhales and inhales you can see on his chest. Sasaki and Iguchi are both nearly the same, the former covered in bruises and in a deep, panicked haze, and the latter as asleep as Yuuji seemed to be while harbouring injuries he may never recover from. 

The only non-roughed up one here is Gojo, it seems; Megumi has a stream of blood running from the top of his head in rivulets, staining his sweaty, scraped forehead. 

“Wh— you two, what happened? Why are they all asleep? What happened to Yuuji? Are they okay? What—” 

“Calm down, kid,” Gojo says, “They’ll be fine. I mean, there’s a 100% chance that your friend can be executed, but…” 

“Executed?” you almost scream, “What the hell happened? You said things would be okay!” 

“Uh-uh, again, calm down. I mean, we don’t even know when they’re gonna make him kick the bucket! He ate Sukuna’s finger, by the way.” He holds his arms up in faux surrender. 

“Gojo you ignorant slut! Don’t you fucking dare tell me to ‘calm down!’ He ate Sukuna’s finger? Why weren’t you able to stop anything? What’s going to happen to him now? You know what— give him to me!” 

“You know, it’s not like I’m scared of being hunted down by your father if you use your cursed technique— I mean, I’m leagues stronger than him— but the stuff was too strong. It’s not like you’ll be able to get rid of the finger in your little boyfriend.” 

“He’s not her boyfriend!” Megumi interjects.

“Thank you, Megumi!” Your face is going hot like a campfire fanned by the wind. 

“Oh?” Gojo adds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Anyway, we’re going to get him to a place where we can cover everything with talismans to surround him.” 

They’re going to execute him at Jujutsu High after.  

“I’m coming with you.” 

“You sure?” Gojo asks, “Your father isn’t going to like you travelling so far away without telling him.” 

Megumi shifts, a little sombre. “[Name], you don’t have to.” 

“...I’m doing this for Yuuji, not for you.” 

“You okay?” Gojo asks while the three of you are back in the hospital. (You hate this building so much.) Iguchi’s been transferred to a ward, Sasaki having woken up and insisting on staying with him. “I’ve got kikufuku if you want some. You must be really tired since it’s so late, huh?” 

The whole situation is so incredulous you’re unsure of whether you want to burst out laughing or dismember someone. 

“...nothing. Wait, let me see Yuuji again.” 

Everyone is asleep, it seems— all except for you and Gojo. Yuuji’s been knocked out, and Megumi’s stuck in the world of his dreams. 

You can’t sleep. There’s just nothing to put your mind at rest. 

At least if there’s one thing you can do it’s this. 

Gojo picks him up by the sides of his torso (now temporarily clothed with a spare white shirt) like a child with a heavy book. “Woah— he’s pretty heavy for a fifteen year old kid.” 

You lay Yuuji face-up on the line of hospital chairs. There are thin scarlet marks right under his eyes— Sukuna’s eyelids, you’ve been told. 

You should’ve done more to protect him. 

Slowly, reticently, you kneel by the side of the chairs. You press your fingertips onto that pair of thin tiny lines. 

Nothing happens. You can’t picture his cells being able to grow back. It’s as if there’s been a slit on his face and its outline has been replaced with brand-new skin. His cells don’t budge. 

“Why don’t you help Megumi? I bet he’s got plenty of healable injuries.” 

“…I don’t think I’ll be able to help much. I could faint if I try helping him now. It’s better to leave it to Dr Ieiri or something.” 

“Pft,” he scoffs, “Shoko? She’s definitely not going to heal all of him. It’ll just be a waste of her time. You can just help him with the tiny scrapes and bruises first. And I’ll even tell her that you did it. She’s really fond of you, you know.” 

You give him a shy, modest smile. “Thanks, then.”

It’s time to get to work. 

Megumi’s skin is smooth like a baby’s just like the last time you felt it, though the frown on his face, ever-present, is bound to cause wrinkles there in less than a few decades’ time. You place your hands on him, bruised and bloody, watching in your mind and directing his cells as they work. 

Once the smaller injuries have been dealt with, you stop. “I can’t really work on the one on his head, since then you’d get another fainted person to carry around, but he should be fine with some bandages and patching-up there, because I’ve already kind of catalysed the start of that area’s healing process a little. Other than that, he should be completely fine. I’ll give it, say… two weeks or so for it to get better completely.” 

“Good work!” he smiles, the outline of his cheeks visible on his blindfold. 

“By the way, Mr Gojo…” 

“You know, I appreciate the respect you’re giving me now, but just Gojo is fine.” 

“Okay, Gojo. Do you think Yuuji will be okay?” 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure. And I’m going to ask them to suspend his sentence. I’ll just see whether he wants that or not once he wakes up.” 

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure if he even will.” 

Gojo laughs. “Don’t worry. He was really strong, and able to switch between being possessed by Sukuna and being himself at will. We haven't seen that kind of talent in a millennia! I’m sure they’ll listen to me, anyway.” 

“Thank you,” you sigh. Thank goodness. “If you need any type of payment, um… teleport to my house whenever you get inconvenient little cuts like bruises and stuff. I can help.” 

“Nah, reverse cursed technique’s got me covered.” 

“Oh, wait— I forgot about that— um… I can…”

“Just leave it to me! No payment required,” he exclaims, holding both thumbs up. “And for the record, the one who wanted to save Yuuji was actually Megumi.” 

You wouldn’t have imagined that would happen. Megumi— pragmatic, serious, unkind when he needs to be (no matter how kind of a person he actually is— no, was— at heart), different from Tsumiki in so many ways. There was no way he would have been the one vouching for Yuuji, someone he’d only just met, to be spared. 

“Really?” you ask, “I… wouldn’t have thought he was the one who would do it. I thought, maybe, you were just… really kind tonight or something…”

“Well, maybe it was because he saw how much you cared about Itadori and did it for you, or maybe he had met Itadori, liked him, and just wanted to save a good person,” Gojo suspects, “But if there’s one thing for sure it’s that your old friend saved your new one.” 

“...oh.” 

You’ll have to bring it up with him next time— maybe, if he’s still there tomorrow…

“I know you’re mad at him, but a lot has happened,” Gojo states, voice lower, softer like a schoolteacher’s, “Still, I won’t tell you that you have to give him a chance or any of that. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to thank him or anything. I’m sure he did it out of his own volition without expecting anything from you. He knew he probably didn’t deserve to if it were you.” 

You pause. “No, it’s just… I’ll talk to him again the next time I see him. Alone, most likely. And I can figure something out. I think that would be the best way to go around things. Thank you, Gojo.” 

18-6-2018 

The aftershocks are still there, although you’ve come out unscathed. 

Last night was a mingled mess, a blur. You’d tried your best to help Iguchi by the time Yuuji was placed in the room of talismans and you could come back to the hospital and visit, but in the end he still needed better help than that. His injuries were too large of scale for how you were at that moment, already tired after healing some of the numbers done on Megumi. 

(You were useless. You couldn’t help anyone. You couldn’t prevent Yuuji from being hit with such soul-striking guilt., couldn’t help Sasaki from being traumatised, couldn’t help Iguchi enough for him to be back at school soon—) 

Sasaki’s injuries were limited to bruises and scrapes, but though you could help her physically, there was nothing you could do to assist her emotionally. 

You stayed with them for a few hours in the ICU and then one of the hospital wards (a floor under your mother’s), your father calling you once the sun had risen. 

“Gojo Satoru told me about everything that happened.” 

“Yeah. I know you’ll scold me, but… not now. I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” You hang up. 

For all you spoke of wanting to be useful, the night when your powers were needed the most was when you were at your most useless— you couldn’t help them, you couldn’t help attack the cursed spirits, and the only thing you could do was call for an adult’s help like a little, scared and helpless girl. 

You needed to train, and train harder than you had been doing for the past few years. 

There’s a knock on the door, a dot-dot-dot-dot-dot. dot dot. It’s Yuuji, you know it is. How ever could you not? 

Timidly, movements quiet like the room itself, you pull the door knob, seeing him there, relatively unscathed. You sigh in relief, a moment’s respite before you return to the panic you had been living in before since you deserve the respite less than other people do— no, you don’t deserve such a break at all, you’re absolutely sure of that, not after what you pulled, how horribly and utterly useless you were, you’ll remind yourself of that again and again and again— the heart-piercing guilt and the worry and the constant need to care for the people around you, almost like a mother, maybe, but you don’t like that thought as much as you think you should. Maybe if your own mother knew, she’d disagree— maybe she’d tell you that you should be a mother, maybe she’d ignore that you were also a child at certain times— the most convenient ones, probably. When she thinks it good that you, a child, were someone’s caretaker because women should take pride in and appreciate that, she would encourage you to be one; when she thinks it bad that as a caretaker and a so-called ‘adult’ you can have your own autonomy, agency and opinions, then maybe she’d remind you that in her eyes you knew nothing of the world. But maybe, just maybe, there was also a chance that she wouldn’t be like that in any way. 

But you wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Yuuji, are you okay?” There are questions about to spill out of you, tears about to fall like gushing rivers, but you’re just happy he’s alive at this point. 

“Yeah.” His voice is soft. Your chest twinges; it hurts like an awful, intransigent little bruise. “Hi, [Name].” It feels so unignorable, the way it’s filled with such sorrow and worry that it weighs his usually loud and boisterous voice down. 

“I thought that—” you start, lips trembling, “I thought there was a chance I couldn’t lose you. The only thing I could do was—” you sniffle, “Hope that they could delay it or something.” 

“Yeah. I’ll explain it later,” he says, his voice sincere. 

You squeeze the wrist of his sleeve. “Don’t do things like that ever again,” you plead, “Promise me that at least.” 

“I promise.” 

“And keep your promises.”

“I will.” 

“...want to come inside?” 

He walks inside, and you step back to make way for him. 

“Sorry I came so late,” he says to you and Sasaki, who shakes her head in reassurance. “Hello, Sasaki,” he greets, “Is Iguchi okay?” 

They speak for a while— you don’t feel like it’s much of your right to join their conversation, since you did nearly nothing at all when they were most in danger, so you leave them be for a while. It would be better not to bother them right now, anyway. They’ve both been traumatised until it reached beneath their bones within the past twenty-four hours. 

When you leave the hospital, Sasaki tells you that she’s going to stay. You tell her to take care, squeezing her hand one final time. 

You let her, patting her on the back. You’ll call them later— she’d given you her contact— just to check on the two of them. 

“Where’s Megumi?” you ask Yuuji. 

“Oh, Fushiguro? I’m not too sure, but that Gojo guy said he’ll be there soon.” 

“Where, though?”

Sheepishly, in peak Yuuji fashion, he scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, another reason why I came here was also because… I mean, I know you and him weren’t close, but I’m going to the place where they’ll keep Grandpa’s ashes, and I think… you know, you could come with me. I… I don’t think I’d be able to do it really well alone, even though he had definitely made it clear he seriously didn’t want me moping around after his death and all. Gojo and Megumi will probably be there, but I thought it would be better if you were there because I know you better than those two, and you’re my friend. So… could you come with me? I know that he never really showed it, but I think he had always liked you a lot. Like, he was happy we were friends and stuff.” 

“...mhm. I’ll always be happy about that,” you tell him, before pulling him into a hug. The guy must need one right now. You’ve never hugged him before. Your heart hurts. 

The air is hot and humid with the breath of summer, bundles of mosquitoes bound to be breeding new ones these next few weeks. Up in the sky is the sun, bold and bright, glaring down harshly at the two of you. 

“Before he passed away, Grandpa actually said something. He… kind of cursed me, if I’m being honest,” Yuuji starts. “He said I was a strong kid, so I should help people. And I’m going to do that. So that was why when Gojo asked if I wanted to be executed immediately or just eat all the fingers before dying, I chose the second option. I… I think I want to help people that way.” 

‘You’ve already helped people enough. You helped me,’ you almost tell him. 

You frown, because that’s the only thing you can do right now. You search for words to say the same way you do looking for dog books in libraries chock-full with those of other genres. “I’m… disappointed, I— I know I should be grateful, grateful that you’re still going to be alive and all, but… you’re still going to be in danger, and you’re still going to be executed one day. I mean, again, I know I should be happy you’re going to have more time alive and that I can still see you, but what if things don’t go as planned? What if you lose control of yourself once you reach, like, the fifth finger or something?” 

You’re selfish like that. In a way, you’re just the way your mother is. You should’ve always known— you were her beloved daughter after all, and the people you know would be loved the same way she did you since the day she knew of your existence, and maybe even before that. 

“Don’t worry,” he grins, wide as always. Even in an over-enveloping darkness he still manages to be the light. “I’ll be just fine. I’m a strong kid, after all. And we’ll always be friends!” 

Gojo asks if he and Yuuji can talk in private for a while. You wonder if this was how your mother felt as she had to give the person she loved most away (but you will have to go away, one day), because you can briefly tell what Gojo is going to ask. You wonder if she felt this twice. 

Yuuji can’t stay with you forever. In the same way you can’t remain by your mother and father’s sides for all eternity. 

This won’t be the last time you’re here, you think. For a place of death, it’s quite a bit beautiful how there’s such large masses of grass and plants surrounding it. 

Megumi nearly walks past you, his eyes on the old photographs of the deceased all around him. 

“Megumi.” 

He turns around. 

“I just wanted to thank you for wanting to save my friend, even if you may not have wanted to do it for me, specifically… um… I didn’t expect that you’d still be here. Are your injuries okay?” 

“I’m okay,” he answers you. “And also, I…” he hesitates, the first time he’s talked to you for something actually related to the two of you in a long time— nearly two years if you’re counting correctly, but the thoughts in your head are a bit too jumbled to count at the moment. “I didn’t really do it for you, though. It… it was for Tsumiki.” 

“Oh.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, that didn’t… come out right. But I should also apologise for something else. You wouldn’t have been thrown into this world anyway if not for my own demon dogs years ago.” 

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. And I would have wanted to be in it anyway. There’s not many who can heal other people and all, so I just thought… even if I can’t do as much yet, since I don’t have reversed cursed technique and the drawbacks that come from mine are really bad, I can still help people sometimes if they’re dealing with relatively minor injuries. I can, um… make things easier for people. I can be useful like that. I’d keep to it anyway, because I’m stubborn, but… yeah. It wasn’t your fault, really.” 

“Okay. That’s good to hear.” 

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to know that Tsumiki is okay.” 

Silence again for a while. The air turns a little more sombre, and a lot more awkward. 

“She is. And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.” 

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.” 

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says. 

“I do. He’s a really good friend. If there’s something I’ll always know I know that, at least.” 

“I can see that. It doesn’t seem like he loves you back in the same way, though.” 

“...wow. Way to be blunt, Megumi. And yes, I do know that, too.” 

“Let’s just… change the subject.” 

“You’re the one who introduced it in the first place.” 

“Okay. How… how are you?” 

“I’m good. Wait, I think you should… go back to them. Maybe they’ll need you there right about now. He’s probably going to have to go to Jujutsu High, right?” 

He pauses. “Yeah. I’m sorry, [Name].” 

“No, no. That’s okay. I expected it. It’s just that I’ll miss him a lot,” you tell him, “He took care of me, kind of. You know I’ve always been a bit of an awkward or shy person, but he still approached me since I was new and we ended up hitting off as friends, kind of. We did a lot of stuff together.” 

Sounds pretty familiar, huh. 

“If you want I can make sure he’s safe for you.” 

“...you should be able to do that regardless of whether it’s my wish for you to do so or not…” you state, “But that would help, I guess. And I’m sorry for my attitude towards you for the past few hours or so. Thank you again.” 

“...I’m sorry I never spoke to you for so long, by the way,” he says abruptly. ‘By the way’? Classic Megumi… 

“I could tell you were. It’s… it’s okay. The two of you kind of have a habit of doing that.” 

All your rage, your loneliness, your feelings of abandonment— and this is all you can do. This is all you can say. You can only just let it go, in the end. 

“I’ll explain it all one day.” 

“You don’t have to if it’s hard.” 

He stays. “No, I will. I promise. And I promise I’ll start to talk to you again, as well. I was just… scared of a few things, maybe.” 

“That’s okay.” 

The two of you aren’t quite friends again yet, but it’ll happen soon. Maybe. And even if it doesn’t, you’re finally able to say, with an open, honest heart, that that doesn’t matter as much anymore. 

“I guess this is goodbye again, then.” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, right— promise to keep in touch, okay? My patience is running thin with you,” you chuckle at that last part, attempting to joke and make things lighter again. 

“Promise.” 

“I’m going to go home now, by the way. Please tell Yuuji that I wish him the best and I’ll visit when I have my own money to visit Tokyo and all.” 

“I will.” 

“And help me say goodbye to him for me,” you add, “Hope that’s not too much for you to do. Sorry for the trouble. It’s just that I’d actually just about cry if I had to do it in real time right in front of him. Be good to him and be good friends, okay? Keep that promise, at the very least. That’s the one thing that I wish for the most.” 

“Bye, Megumi.” You turn back in the direction opposite of his. 

“Wait—!” 

His hand is on your wrist. Now you’re in front of him, like yesterday, and he’s holding your wrist, albeit a bit gentler than the way he used to pull it a whole eight years ago. 

His eyes are cast away from you, slightly avoidantly and in a way that’s a bit abashed. “I’ll miss you, [Name].” 

“It won’t even feel like I’m not there,” you say. Though his grip is slightly tight, he loosens it as soon as you try to slide it up, as if he’d let you be free of it if you want him to. 

You squeeze his hand instead, turning to face him. It feels warm. It feels like there’s blood coursing through you, the sensation more tender and tangible than it’s ever been. 

“Goodbye.” 

“Goodbye, [Name]. I’ll… I’ll call.” 

“Thank you.” 

Now you’re the one slipping away from his grasp. You move your hand away and walk back. The door slides open. 

2010. Springs, summers, autumns, winters. Hands on wrists, a back faced to your eyes, wide with innocence. Warmth and laughter and happiness and love. Days coloured with vibrant hues and time spent with dog books and in libraries. Frowns were greeted with smiles. Hesitance was non-existent. You didn’t feel a need to compensate for your uselessness. You were a child. You didn’t feel useless at all. You just felt this: a constant leaping in your heart, the corners of your mouth twisting up into a juvenile grin, braiding someone’s beautiful brown hair and tying it with a pretty cherry hair tie. 

You want to cry as you walk back home. 

You’re pretty sure you do. 

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

[certifiedcallahanstan]

The memoir of a horny fangirl

chapter 2

Warnings: This is a pretty heavy chapter, it shows a really vulnerable side to Hazel and the shitty side of the reader. I had to get this chapter done, so the rest can be lighter and more *spicy*. The next chapter will get back to baseball hazel!!

This chapter contains: sa

It’s been a couple days since you had received the picture and you know you shouldn’t be upset, Hazel is a grown woman and is allowed to kiss whomever she wants, it’s not like you two are together anyways. That however doesn’t stop you from trying to avoid her.

P.J invites you to the coffee shop with Josie and Brittany to do quote on quote “studying” which really means she wants to talk to you all about her latest hook up.

Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself getting caught up in the conversation.

“and i mean it wasn’t a fucking normal sized strap, that shit was like- fucking xxl” P.J moves her hands at least a feet apart from eachother trying to demonstrate the size and josie scrunches up her nose.

“I don’t need to hear that P.J, you keep that to yourself” she huffs and you cover your mouth trying to stop a laugh from escaping.

For a brief moment, the weight of your emotions regarding Hazel and the photo fade into the background as you lose yourself in the conversation until eventually Brittany convinces everyone that we should probably study.

You pull out your notes adorned with doodles of different sea creatures and facts about them when you hear a familiar voice approach the table.

“Hey guys” the voice that belongs to the shaggy brunette starts “Josie told me you all were studying and that..” she looks at her phone reading the text “We are about to kill P.J, please come before one of us commits a felony”

P.J just responds with a huff a mutters something along the lines of “you all are just mad i get more hoes” as Hazel pulls out a chair and joins the group.

You scoot slightly more away from Hazel hoping nobody will notice. unfortunately these chairs are millenniums old and makes and obnoxious screeching noise

You cringe inwardly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your cheeks as all eyes turn in your direction.

Hazel's gaze flickers briefly in your direction, her brow furrowing in confusion at the sudden noise.

"Sorry about that," you mumble, offering a sheepish smile as you try to play off the noise. "These chairs are... uh, not the most cooperative."

Everyone seems to accept that excuse as they get back to their previous tasks. You start shading in the sea creature you were previously drawing in your journal when you feel P.J looming over you.

“what the fuck knuckles is that” she says as she points at your drawing

you look down at a your notebook where you had draw what looks like a eel-shark hybrid

“it’s called a frilled shark” you start explaining as all eyes look at you “they get their name from the frilly appearance of their gill sets. In fact they’re one of the few sharks that eat their prey whole…”

You trail off awkwardly, realizing that you may have gone a bit overboard with your explanation when you see everyone blankly staring at you. Clearing your throat, you try to steer the conversation back on track.

"Anyway, um... yeah, it's just a cool creature I thought I'd draw," you finish lamely

“I think it’s sick”

you turn your head to the voice and see Hazel smiling at you “i mean a shark that moves like an eel?”

"Yeah, exactly!" you respond, a smile spreading across your face as you meet Hazel's gaze. "It's pretty fascinating how they've adapted to their environment."

fuck why does she have to be so damn irresistible.

your thoughts are cut off by the slamming of a text book and you see Brittany getting up “my brain feels all mushy, im going home to take a nap”

Josie nods, putting her computer in her back pack “i should probably get back to Isabel” and P.J mutters something about going to “fuck then duck” whatever that means.

Soon enough it’s just you and Hazel, you try to ignore the tension, but damn it’s so thick you could cut it with a knife.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching between you as you both seem lost in your own thoughts. You fidget nervously, unsure of what to say.

Finally, Hazel clears her throat, breaking the silence with a hesitant smile. "So... um, how have you been?" she asks, her voice soft and tentative.

You swallow, trying to push aside the swirling emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. "I've been okay," you reply, your voice slightly strained. "Just... you know, trying to stay busy with school and stuff."

and not making out with random red heads and getting chlamydia you add in your head.

Hazel nods, her gaze flickering briefly as she seems to search for the right words. "Yeah, I get that," she says quietly “hey um..have you been avoiding me? i’ve tried to text you but you haven’t answered and everytime i try to come up to you you walk the opposite direction”

your jaw clenches as you start putting everything in your shark printed back pack “what reason would i have to avoid you Hazel” your voice tinged with frustration and hurt.

she runs her ringed fingers through her hair and you try not to notice the prominent veins “that’s what i’m trying to figure out, did i do something?”

“not everything is about you callahan” you grunt out as you try to gather all your loose papers

“here let me help-“

“i don’t need your help” you shove her arm away and in the process her hand hits an open water bottle spilling water all over your notebook. the notebooks that has three years worth of research in it

A sense of panic washes over you as you scramble to salvage what you can, frantically wiping at the water with trembling hands. Hazel watches helplessly, her expression a mixture of concern and regret.

"I'm sorry," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I was just trying to..."

You cut her off with a sharp gesture, your own frustration boiling over as you struggle to contain your emotions. "Just... leave me alone, Hazel," you mutter, your voice thick with emotion.

she steps back as her eyebrows knit together “this wouldn’t have happened if you just let me help. Maybe instead of pushing people away talk to them”

You can see the hurt etched in her features, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt tug at your conscience.

"I'm sorry, I just..." you begin, your voice catching in your throat as tears threaten to spill from your eyes. With a heavy sigh, you toss your notebook into the trash and sling your backpack over your shoulder

"I have to go," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you turn away, unable to face Hazel in that moment. With each step you take, the distance between you and Hazel grows, the ache of regret gnawing at your heart.

Hazel just presses her lips together and nods before you see the same red head from the photo calling her name in an annoying high pitched voice.

You watch in silence as Hazel hesitates, her eyes briefly searching yours for any sign of a response. Before you can gather your thoughts, she turns away, putting on a fake smile as the red-headed girl approaches.

"What's up, Becca?" she says, her tone polite but strained, the artificiality of her smile not escaping your notice.

you turn away, knowing that it's not your place to intervene in Hazel's personal life. And also if you stayed there someone would be getting punched in the face, and here’s a hint. it wasn’t going to be you.

—————————————

“Did you say sorry at least?” Isabel ask as you lay upside down on her bed, letting the blood flow rush to your head to try to forget about what Josie now calls “they great water incident” that happened last week

"Yeah, I did," you reply with a sigh, your voice muffled from your upside-down position. “kinda.. i dunno. I mean you should’ve seen the way that becky, bexar, what ever the fuck her name is held onto her”

P.J shoves a handful of chips into her mouth and shrugs “i say kill the bitch”

Josie tosses a pillow at her face and huffs “We already have one murderous charge against us, we don’t need another”

Isabel nods in agreement. "Exactly. We'll figure this out without resorting to murder,"

“fine” P.J huffs holding her hands in the air “but just know that i know people”

“mhmm” you hum as you launch yourself back into an upright position on the bed stealing chips from P.J’s bowl.

As the group starts debating whether han solo or darth vader would be better in bed, you can’t help but wonder at this exact moment what hazel is doing.

——————————————

Hazel sits on her bed in her apartment talking about how the frilled shark can unhinge their jaw and eat prey at least twice their size as the red head sits and stares at her.

Hazel has never been one for social cues, she sincerely honestly thought that Rebecca just needed a friend, and sure they made out at the party but in her defense her face looked similar to yours in the midst of her 6 shots.

So here they are in Hazels apartment, Hazel blabbering about the eel-shark abomination (that she most definitely didn’t spend five hours researching after finding out about it)

“Rebecca? did you hear what i said” she stops and tilts her head with wide eyes

Rebecca nods and turns to Hazel “mhm- yeah the shark is like- long or some shit”

“you seem distracted” the brunette mutters “and it’s not called a long shark it’s called a frilled shark because-“ her sentence is interrupted when she hears Rebecca let out a drawn out sigh and move closer to Hazel.

“Yeah that’s kinda gross Hazey and i’m bored so how about we have some fun…”

“i don’t know what you mean-“ hazel starts before the girl lifts her shirt off and suddenly Hazel realizes why this girl has been being so nice to her.

"I... I don't think that's a good idea," Hazel stammers, her voice tinged with unease as she shifts uncomfortably on the bed.

“come on baby” Rebecca whines as she crawls into an unwilling Hazels lap “I’ve heard how good you are in bed”

And it’s true, Hazel was amazing in bed and she has had her fair share of hookups, but usually she knows about them before.

"Rebecca, I... I really don't think this is a good idea," Hazel insists, her voice shaky as she gently tries to push Rebecca away. "I'm not interested in anything like that right now."

“shhh” Rebecca whispers out as she slams her lips against Hazels and suddenly everything seems too much, Rebecca’s lips are wet, the lights are too bright, the AC is too loud. Panic grips her as she struggles to push Rebecca away, her thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion.

"Stop," Hazel manages to choke out, her voice barely audible over the rush of blood in her ears. She pushes against Rebecca's chest with all her strength, her heart pounding with urgency.

Rebecca pulls back, frustration evident on her face. "What's wrong?" she demands, her voice tinged with irritation.

Hazel's chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her mind reeling with a flood of emotions. "I... I told you to stop," she says, her voice trembling

Rebecca's expression darkens, her features contorted with anger as she takes a step forward. "You're just playing hard to get,"

Hazel manages to push Rebecca off her lap and quickly stands up, putting some distance between them.

"I think it's best if you leave," she says firmly, her voice trembling slightly with the effort to maintain composure.

With a frustrated huff, Rebecca storms out of the room, leaving Hazel alone with her racing thoughts and pounding heart. As she sinks onto the bed she grabs her phone with shakey hands and presses your contact then the call button.

“Hey what’s up” your voice bellows out from Hazels phone

“Hey i don’t know what-“

“HAHA JK this is my voice mail, leave a message or don’t i don’t care” your voice interrupts and Hazel can’t help the tears that fall down her face

“Hey..i don’t know if you’ll see this but Rebecca was here and i thought we were just friends, i mean i know i kissed her but i was drunk and..anyways we were talking and-“ Hazels voice cracks “-and she climbed on me and i told her to get off but she didn’t and- and she kissed me and maybe it’s my fault but..i don’t know what the point of calling you is because i’m pretty sure you hate me. I dunno, i just needed to tell someone.”

She presses the hang up button and brings her knees to her chest letting out a sob. How could she have been so stupid? Flash backs of when her dad would buy her these new suits and buttons up because he knew you hated dresses, but then make her get dressed in front of him flashed back into her mind.

Despite her best efforts to push those memories aside, they continue to haunt her, casting a shadow over her as she cries herself eventually to sleep.

———————————

it’s not until two days later that you see the voice mail, you’re sitting in your biology class with your airpod in when you click the play button.

“What the fuck?!” you blurt out when it finishes and suddenly all eyes are on you.

You smile sheepishly as you gather all of your belongings and rush out of the classroom calling P.J

after three rings she answers with a “I’m talking to this really hot chick so this better be important”

“You remember when we said that we weren’t going to kill anyone anymore”

P.J hums “well YOU ALL said that, i never actually agreed to it”

“Yeah well…it’s time for some killing..or at least seriously maiming”

as you explained the situation to P.J, the last thing she said before she hung up was

“let’s go kick some leprechaun ass”

————————————

Okay so YOU didn’t kick some leprechaun ass, P.J insisted she could take Rebecca herself and you assuming it went well because as you were driving (well over the speed limit) to Hazels house you receive a message from P.J saying “i’m like 75% sure she’s still alive, anyways if police come questioning you, say a rabid bear attacked her”

You chose not to question her further.

You get to Hazels house and you take a deep breath, you’ve never been good at comforting people, usually you just pat their back and give them water. You assume that probably won’t work for this situation .

Taking a deep breath, you exit your car and make your way to Hazel's apartment. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of the situation bearing down on you with each passing moment.

you knock on the door three times fast, two slow, that was your signature knock for her since middle school. As the door swings open, you're greeted by the sight of Hazel, her eyes red-rimmed from tears. Without a word, you pull her into a tight embrace, holding her close.

“y-you came-“ Hazel mutters out as you pull away and she wipes her eyes

“yeah of course haze, im sorry i didn’t see the voice mail till today”

Hazel nods, her expression grateful as she steps back, allowing you to enter her apartment. As you settle into the living room, Hazel gestures for you to take a seat on the couch beside her. You can sense her hesitancy, so you squeeze her hand and softly smile.

“you can talk to me about whatever, you know that right haze?”

Hazel meets your gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions—vulnerability, fear, and a glimmer of hope. With a shaky breath, she begins to recount the events of that night, pouring out her heart and soul to you.

And all you saw was fucking red. How the fuck could someone do this to her Hazel, her sweet, beautiful, funny Hazel?

Your heart pounds in your chest as Hazel's words sink in, each one feeling like a blow to your own sense of justice. Anger simmers beneath the surface as you listen to the betrayal she endured, your grip on her hand tightening instinctively.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you meet Hazel's gaze with determination burning in your eyes. "Hazel, I am so sorry that you had to go through that," you say, your voice firm but gentle. "But I promise you, we will get through this together. I won't let anyone hurt you like that again."

Hazel coughs out a laugh and looks at you with wet eyes “That’s supposed to be my line”

You smile softly at her response, a flicker of warmth spreading through your chest. "Well, consider it borrowed for now," you say, returning her gaze with sincerity. "Because I mean every word of it. I'm here for you, Hazel, no matter what."

In that moment, as you sit together in quiet solidarity, you know that your bond with Hazel runs deeper than words can express. And with that unspoken understanding, you both find solace in each other's presence.

[violettierre]

Society has fallen down ever since Shio stopped making an appearance in chapters.

[leathermouthproxies]

SMOOCHIMG YOUSO HARD RN IVE BEEN CHECKING FOR UPDATES FOR 5EVER IM SO EXCOTED JEHDJWHEJ2HEJAAAAAAAAAA

[bambeebirdie]

This is for @bluepeachstudios ‘s Ghost in a Shell. It’s really good you should read it.

I looked at exactly one picture of Jupiter Jim and went “yeah this should be enough to draw him.” I will not be answering if it actually was

Have some bonus content under the cut!

And sketches

(I love any character who can say “I don’t want to go back to prison” it’s like the funniest thing to me)

[stevesbipanic]

Boy For All Seasons

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Ao3

By the time the first snow began to fall upon Hawkins Eddie knew he was falling in love with one Steve Harrington. Most nights the boys shared a bed feigning exhaustion or cold weather as an excuse to be close to each other. Eddie was weak to Steve's wishes and selfishly wanted to keep the younger boy in his orbit for as long as possible.

Christmas break had just started and Eddie was helping Steve hang up lights on the roof of Family Video.

"Ya know Stevie, usually when I help you with work it's to steal corporate America's heating system not freeze my balls off."

"I told you to wear I sweater when we left this morning."

Eddie's cheeks flushed and it wasn't from the cold, he mumbled a response.

"What was that?" Steve asked as he climbed back down and they headed inside.

"I said you're wearing my only sweater." Eddie was at least feeling warm now under Steve's gaze.

"Eds why didn't you say something, I could've survived!"

"I didn't want you to get cold, besides you look cute in my clothes."

Steve smiled softly, "Oh yeah? Trying to get me all dressed up a metalhead Munson?"

Eddie leaned in, a smirk dancing over his face, "Well you would look pretty h-."

"Oi! Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee! A little help would be nice!" Robin called, startling the boys apart.

"Sorry Robs."

"We helped with the lights little Birdie!"

"Mhm, Steve did the lights, you enjoyed the show, Munson," Robin muttered under her breath. It hadn't been long ago that the two had done the questioning gaze at each other revealing they had more in common than they thought. It made Eddie happy that it was unlikely Steve would punch him if he found out but even with all the flirting Eddie wasn't willing to risk it.

"What time are we supposed to be there on Tuesday, Steve-o?"

"Five, 'cause you know the kids are gonna want presents before dinner. Is Nance still picking you up?"

"Yeah she said she's got room, Joyce says she's gonna borrow Ms. Sinclair's car while they're here so she's got the rest of the kids handled."

Steve smiled and continued stacking the shelves.

"You guys having a little Christmas Eve party with the sheepies?" Eddie asked trying not to feel a little hurt that he'd been excluded.

"Hm? Oh shit! Eddie yeah everyone's coming over that day, you should bring Wayne too if he's not working."

"Dingus, did you forget to invite him?"

"Maybe," Steve said sheepishly, "In my defense, I assumed we'd be hanging out that day anyway."

Something warm bloomed in Eddie's chest at the assumption, at the inference that Steve would want to be around Eddie all the time.

"Wayne's working sadly, but you're right, we should probs sleep at yours Tuesday then so you have time to get everything set up." If Eddie hadn't been hiding his own blush behind his hair, he may have caught the light dusting across Steve's cheek at the word "we".

It wasn't long before Christmas Eve had rolled around. The Harrington house looked warmer when it was bathed in soft yellow Christmas lights. Steve had spent all day moving around the kitchen getting the feast ready, Eddie a dutiful taster and switcher of vinyls.

Before long the doorbell rang and a stampede of noise and laughter filled the home. Steve had been correct, the kids wanted to do presents first, and a mess of wrapping paper and cheers flowed through the living room. Eddie in typical Eddie fashion had dressed up as Santa Claus and helped pass around the gifts.

"This is for you, Eds," Steve said shyly passing a small gift to Eddie.

"Thanks, sweetheart." Eddie unwrapped the gift to find a chain with a black and red guitar pick attached.

"You've got so many rings, thought you needed something a little different, plus it matches your guitar."

"It's awesome, thank you, Stevie." Before Eddie could stop his own actions he'd leaned into Steve's space and pecked his cheek.

Steve immediately flushed, his hand reaching up to softly touch his cheek before standing quickly and telling the group that it was time for dinner. Briefly, Eddie thought he'd ruined everything but at the table, Steve still smiled and sat beside him.

Later, when everyone else had been taken home leaving Eddie and Steve warm and safe in Steve's bed Eddie thought about mentioning it. He thought about mentioning everything, all the flirting, the jokes, the costumes, the smiles, the stares, the fact that they slept together almost every night. But he didn't, instead, he whispered softly as they both softly drifted to sleep.

"Merry Christmas, Stevie."

"Merry Christmas, Eds."

Tags: @zerokrox-blog @smallfrogpleasedtomeetyou @eboyawstenn @sharingisntkaren @goodolefashionedloverboi @the-redthread @steddie-there @questionablequeeries @liorereshkigal @mightbeasleep @carlyv @my2amgaythoughts @gregre369 @space-invading-pigeon @bisexualdisastersworld @epiclazershark @sherrylyn628 @raisedbylibrarians @swaghettoni

[meetmeatthecoda]

Halcyon by meetmeatthecoda Fandoms: The Blacklist (US TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Chapters: 4/7 Words: 69,399 Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen, Raymond Reddington, Agnes Keen, Dembe Zuma, Harold Cooper, Charlene Cooper, Alina Park, Donald Ressler, Aram Mojtabai, various OCs, Lizzington - Freeform, Agnesgate, AU, post-8.22, Fix-it fic, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Angst, Lots of Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, briefly, in the start of chapter 3, and an equally brief discussion of them in chapter 5, some sexual content, Nothing too explicit, and last but not least, no Redarina, no relation at all ever between red & liz, obviously

Summary:

Halcyon - adjective:

denoting a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful.

noun:

a tropical Asian and African kingfisher with brightly colored plumage.

a mythical bird said by ancient writers to breed in a nest floating at sea at the winter solstice, charming the wind and waves into calm.

origin:

from Greek alkuōn ‘kingfisher’ (also halkuōn, by association with hals ‘sea’ and kuōn ‘conceiving’).

An AU post-8.22 fix-it fic, wherein Liz survives her shooting - unbeknownst to everyone - & flees the country in an effort to protect those dear to her, living a solitary, lonely existence on a loch in Scotland & coping with the only outlet she has, a hobby begun as a coping mechanism during a traumatic childhood & kept since then as a closely-guarded secret: art.

“As with all things in her life, it was born from fire.”

☕️ Buy Me a Coffee ☕️

🎶 Playlist below the cut! 🎶

Meant To Be by Ber & Charlie Oriain

Rockland by Gracie Abrams

Walking On The Moon by Ruelle

graves by Purity Ring

32 Floors by Lapsley

Rolling Like a Ball by Ludovico Einaudi

Brush Fire by Gracie Abrams

Much Too Much by Lennon Stella

You Hold Me Up by The Bones of J.R. Jones

As The World Caves In by Matt Maltese (cover by Sarah Cothran)

Men On The Moon by Chelsea Cutler

you broke me first by Tate McRae

Games by Lennon Stella

Save Us by Lennon Stella

Takeaway by The Chainsmokers, ILLENIUM feat. Lennon Stella

Best by Gracie Abrams

Where do we go now? by Gracie Abrams

Amelie by Gracie Abrams

85mm by Ludovico Einaudi

ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine

Through the Eyes of a Child by AURORA

Edge of the Dark by Emmit Fenn

Blinded by Emmit Fenn

Memories by Emmit Fenn

Spectrum by Andrew Belle

I Can’t Believe I Had You by Emmit Fenn

Far from Here by Emmit Fenn

In Between Breaths by SYML

Two people by Gracie Abrams

[adrift-in-thyme]

Ok I caved

CHAPTER 7 IS UP

Link bonds with Sky, eats at the Lumpy Pumpkin, gets an official nickname…And realizes that Hylia might not be as far away as he thought

[guqin-and-flute]

And A-Fu Makes 4–Chpt. 6 [3zun Raise Jingyi Au]

[EDIT: DANGIT, I forgot to add credit to this one too!! THANK you madtomedgar for the 'call me xiaoshushu' convo idea!!]

[Ao3 Link] [Series] [More 3zun Raise Jingyi AU]

A-Yuan opened his mouth--probably to say this was a bad idea again --but it was Jin Ling who shushed him this time. Outside the door, beyond the sitting room, they could hear muffled voices coming down the hallway. So, A-Yuan went quiet automatically (totally already in sneaking mode, even if he pretended he wasn’t.)

“--even awake yet?”

“Oh, undoubtedly. They vowed to stay up later but were out within minutes.”

Both A-Ling and A-Fu pointed to each other at the same time, mouths open in a triumphant, silent yell. 2 fathers at once! How lucky! Uncle Zixuan was coming back with Yellow-Father and they were going to get them both so good. A-Yuan, though, just looked even more uncomfortable with this extra grownup in the mix, but A-Fu wasn’t too worried; A-Yuan didn’t snitch, he just sorta squirmed, then did it anyway.

All 3 of them had been plastered around the door to A-Fu’s Jin room in their pajamas for a thousand hours with the hot sunlight coming through the window onto their feet, waiting. Back when they had woken up and found Yellow-Father’s bed already made and him gone, A-Fu knew that this was a perfect opportunity for Sneaking-and-Spooking they couldn’t miss. (He had decided to change the name of the game to Sneaking-and-Spooking, so he could win it easier--if he didn’t manage to sneak on someone, he could at least jump out and spook them! Jin Ling said that was cheating, but he just didn’t like how often he lost.)

A-Ling had kept whining about having to go to the bathroom and A-Yuan had kept saying that he was nervous about this and A-Fu had to be A-Voice-Or-Reason and calm them down to be ready--and now it was time! 

The lock on the front door clicked and the voices got less muffled as it rolled back and the fathers came in. “Boys?” Yellow-Father called, and A-Fu made the fiercest shushing face at his cousins. When no one answered, the fathers started talking quieter, something about rooms being bigger--A-Fu was paying too close attention to the sound of their footsteps. One went to the set of drawers and one started walking around slowly. 

Then, something terrible happened. Or, at least, terrible for the Sneaking-and-Spooking plan.

The smell of Aunt Yanli’s rib and lotus root soup wafted into their noses like a nice breeze. Yellow-Father and Uncle Zixuan had brought back special soup! A-Fu’s tummy grumbled all of a sudden, and A-Ling started sniffing all interested. A-Yuan looked at A-Fu with an ‘I told you so!’ in his eyebrows.

  ‘Told me so what?’ A-Fu scowled back with his own.

‘They have soup!’ A-Yuan’s chin point said. ‘ It could spill! Bad idea!’

‘You don’t know that! ’ said A-Fu’s nose scrunch.

“A-Ling?” said Uncle Zixuan from close by the door--he was the one walking around.

‘I want soup,’ said the pleading look Jin Ling shot at A-Fu. 

‘You follow too many rules,’ said A-Fu’s headshake at A-Yuan.

‘What?’ said A-Yuan’s confused eye squint. (Okay, so maybe A-Fu was making up words for him and his face, so what? He knew what his best cousin-friend would say out loud, if he could.)

“Boys?” Uncle Zixuan’s voice was softer now, like he thought they were maybe all still asleep--even closer to the door.

‘I want soup !’ said Jin Ling’s frown, but, like, louder this time.

A-Fu waved his hands at them frantically to stay where they were. Then, he held up one hand and started counting down with it.

3,

Jin Ling crouched down to be ready. A-Yuan nervously balled up his fists but did the same thing.

2.

A-Fu bent his knees and took in a huge breath to shout--

“I know we’re not going to thank your bofu for bringing us soup by trying to startle him,” came Yellow-Father’s pleasant voice from right outside the door.

A-Fu blew out a huge breath with an, “Uuuuuuugh- uh! ” 

He hadn’t even heard him walk up! Yellow-Father had won Sneaking-and-Spooking again. When he threw open the door, Yellow-Father smiled down at him from next to a surprised looking Uncle Zixuan. “Diedie, how do you know all of the times! ?”

Jin Ling and A-Yuan charged out together. A-Ling jumped up into Uncle Zixuan’s arms, kicking his feet and shrieking when they spun around together and A-Yuan hugged tight onto Yellow-Father’s leg. Yellow-Father looked all twinkly down at him and patted his head, then said to A-Fu, so totally unhelpful, “ Diedie’s are magic that way. Good morning, little ones. Did you sleep well?”

A-Fu’s annoyed didn’t stay for long, though, because then, it was Super Special Soup Time! It wasn’t a normal breakfast food they ate, but apparently, Clan Leader Jiang was coming to visit and meet the new twin babies for the first time in the next few days, and so Aunt Yanli had been cooking a lot. Since A-Fu loved the taste of it and he was leaving soon, she had sent some over with Uncle Zixuan. He was halfway through his second bowl, happily chewing on a big chunk of ginger when he remembered something. 

Uh oh. He had super promised Gray-Father really serious he wouldn’t eat meat anymore. And Gray-Father had specificity mentioned this soup.

Yellow-Father spied his Thinking Look from next to him and asked, “What’s wrong, Fufu? Did you find a bone?”

“We’w…” Pointing his spoon at his steaming soup, he asked, “I’th got meat i’ i’, righ’?”

“Oh, Fufu, please don’t talk with your mouth full. Meat? Yes, it has meat.”

He swallowed. “What animal?”

“A pig!” Jin Ling announced triumphantly, banging the table in his excitement to be right, and Uncle Zixuan quieted him down with shushes, scrubbing his soupy mouth with a napkin.

Oh. Well, he hadn’t ever met a pig or even seen too many, and when he did, they were pretty big and loud and bristly, not like cute, soft bunnies. Plus, it didn't look anything like a pig. 

Yellow-Father’s gave him a confusion look when he stayed quiet. “What's the matter? You like the soup, don’t you?”

“Well…yeah….”

Yellow-Father reached over and rubbed his back all soothing, smiling. “Then what’s wrong? Your Blue- die doesn’t mind if you choose to eat meat outside the Cloud Recesses when we make it for you.”

A-Fu glanced over at his cousins, who were looking at him curiously, chewing. Jin Ling had a little soup drip wobbling on his chin again and A-Yuan was munching on his mung bean pancake. He didn’t have trouble eating no meat--he liked the food at the Cloud Recesses and didn’t take breaks from it when he left like A-Fu did. But meat tasted so good and he was already eating it. “Well, Gray- die said it’s not convictioning….”

At this, Yellow-Father scooted over and scooped A-Fu into his lap. “Your gray die is not in charge of what you eat. Here--” He plucked A-Fu’s spoon from his hand and scooped up a good chunk of stringy strips of fall-apart meat. “Open?”

Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal after all. Now that he was really-for-real thinking about it, he didn’t want to have to just eat the lame Cloud Recesses food for his whole life. Plus, Yellow-Father didn’t seem to think that it was a big deal! So he happily let his yellow father feed him, wiggling around and dancing just like all the spices and yumminess were dancing around in his mouth.

Jin Ling shoved his spoon over at Uncle Zixuan, exclaiming, “Feed me too, diedie! ”

“Weren’t you just telling me yesterday that you were a big kid, now, and didn’t need help doing anything?” 

“Puh- leaaaase ?”

With a shake of his head and a chuckle, Uncle Zixuan scooped up some of A-Ling’s soup into his mouth. So that he wasn’t lonely, A-Fu leaned over and grabbed at A-Yuan’s pancake so it tore into a little strip that he wiggled in his face. “Here, A-Yuan! Like a worm! Cheep cheep!”

“Ew!” A-Yuan laughed, scrunching up his nose, but he opened up his mouth to eat it.

Excited, now, A-Fu grabbed Yellow-Father’s chopsticks and scooped up rice--a bunch spilled all over both of them when he held it up over his head for Yellow-Father to eat. 

“Fufu, you’re getting it in your hair!”

“You gotta eat it!!”

While Yellow-Father was picking the rice grains off A-Fu’s head,  Jin Ling grabbed a chunk of pork from his soup and fed it to Uncle Zixuan, who looked like he wasn’t so sure about maybe dripping stuff on his robes. A-Fu knew that A-Ling just did it to be a copycat, so he got huffy and tried to crawl across the table to feed Uncle Zixuan, too. But then Yellow-Father pulled him back into his lap and said maybe only the grownups would do the feeding, thank you, though. For the rest of the meal, Uncle Zixuan fed A-Ling and Yellow-Father fed A-Fu and A-Yuan. Yellow-Father had a pleased smile as he wiped the corner of A-Yuan’s mouth with a dark blue napkin, saying, “No one should ever keep you from your food, boys. You should eat as much as you like when you like.”

At least it wasn’t all so serious as A-Fu had been afraid of! He had been a little worried he would get in trouble if he brought it up, since Gray-Father had made it sound like he couldn’t change his mind about it.

“I’m just real sorry, pigs,” he made sure to tell the next spoonful before it reached his mouth. “Maybe try not being so yummy.”

After breakfast, the fathers rounded up all the kids and gave them baths and got them dressed. (A-Fu tried to start a splash war with A-Ling that Uncle Zixuan stopped, but not before he got wet.) When they all trooped out to the garden, the Jin nannies were already there with the twins and A-Qiang. Apparently, all the for Sect Leader Jiang cooking made Aunt Yanli really tired, so Uncle Zixuan wanted to make the house all quiet so she could take a nap for the day. And so the big kids got stuck with the babies again . All A-Fu had to say was A-Qiang better not belly flop on his face again, or A-Fu was gonna lose it . His nose was still sore from yesterday!

He scowled at A-Qiang when he ran up to them, so Jin Ling scowled back at him. But A-Fu just wanted to play , not argue, so like, whatever. It wasn’t so bad, once they started running around together. A-Qiang was getting a lot better at walking and running, so they could at least play chase--plus he didn’t know how to be quiet, so when they played hide and seek, he would giggle and A-Fu would always find him first. A-Fu would usually be mad that he wasn’t playing the game right…but he really liked winning, so it didn’t bother him too much. It was even fun to hold him upside down to train him to do headstands until Uncle Zixuan told him to stop! (He didn’t get why he should stop, A-Qiang was laughing the whole time anyway.)

The roofs around them were so bright when the sun bounced off them that they hurt A-Fu’s eyes. Green spots blinked on his eyelids after he looked at the giant puffy white flowers Yellow-Father called peonies. They were the only flowers in the whole garden that he actually knew, and only because they were the Jin Clan flower--Sparks Amid Snow, his Lan teachers made them remember. The other flowers nodded in the breeze all around them, pink and orange and red and purple, buzzing with bees. A-Fu had gotten stung, like 10 times before, when he went trampling through the Jin gardens. He sometimes just forgot that they were there! They were such grumpy bugs and should just mind their own business.

 Uncle Zixuan and Yellow-Father sat next to each other in the shade with their robes all spread out around them while kids played. Each of them held one of the twins, talking about boring adult things--probably about babies, because he could sometimes hear Uncle Zixuan coo at A-Zan in that embarrassing way that grownups got around babies where they acted all stupid, making weird faces and talked in high, silly voices. A-Fu really liked Uncle Zixuan, but that guy was way too okay with babies--he kept looking over at Yellow-Father holding A-Mei with a very pleased expression.

 At least Yellow-Father was just smiling down at A-Mei sleeping, rocking a little and not making embarrassing noises. He would kiss her forehead and pet her hair, sometimes, but that was about it. Whatever. As long as he didn’t get any baby ideas like Blue-Father or make too much of a fuss, A-Fu was happy to leave him to deal with the boring babies. 

It wasn’t until A-Fu ran past him, determined to show A-Ling he could cartwheel the best that he heard his father humming--and he screeched to a stop, almost falling over his feet. What. The. Heck! 

That was his lullaby, the one about a little lotus flower in a pond who made friends with the moon! He stomped back to them, fists all balled up. “You can’t sing that!”

Yellow-Father squinted up at him against the sunlight twinkling through the leaves in surprise. "Shhh, Fufu. What’s the matter?”

He didn’t want to quiet down! Yellow-Father always sang to him to go to sleep, and that song was A-Fu’s favorite! Yellow-Father was his father, not anyone else's! No one else got to have him! The Jin kids got to see him a hundred thousand times more than A-Fu did because they all lived in Koi Tower together and it wasn’t fair! 

He scowled ferociously down at the Jin baby--she just smacked her weird chubby lips in her sleep. “You can’t sing that to them! It’s mine!”

Yellow-Father’s eyebrows stopped squinching and he glanced over at Uncle Zixuan, saying, “Ooh,” all gentle, like A-Fu was so small and so special--specialler even than the baby. “I see. You’re right, it is your song, Fufu. My mistake, I'm sorry.”

Finally he got it. A-Fu sighed a huffy breath and crossed his arms. "Good.…You can sing something else to her, though. If you want. I guess," he allowed grudgingly after thinking about it for a second

Uncle Zixuan made a funny noise like a snort--but when A-Fu eyed him suspiciously, he was just letting A-Zan chew on his finger, not looking at them. 

 Yellow-Father's eyes crinkled up farther into a smile. "That's very thoughtful of you, Fufu,” he said. “What song should be A-Mei’s, then?” 

“I’unno. But not the flower and the moon one,” he warned.

“Of course, of course.”

He sort of snugged her in closer in his arms when he said it, though, and shot a laughing sort of look over at Uncle Zixuan, who shook his head with a grin. That Uncle Zixuan was such a bad influence on Yellow-Father, giving him babies to hold and pay attention to, so A-Fu added, just in case he got any ideas, “And you’re not allowed to have babies.”

This made Uncle Zixuan and Yellow-Father laugh --loud enough that A-Mei squirmed, and they quickly quieted down. A-Fu didn’t know why they were laughing at him, and it made him scowl, but then Yellow-Father opened his free arm to invite A-Fu closer and even though he didn’t want to hang out with the babies and he didn’t get what was so funny, he snuggled in next to him. “Alright, Fufu; on one condition.”

“What?”

Leaning down, he kissed the side of A-Fu’s forehead and said, quietly, “That you’ll always be my baby.”

“I can’t stay a baby, die! I’m growing pains already! I’m so much bigger than a baby!”

“Ah, you’re right. What if you promise to be my xiao -Fufu forever, then?”

Well, he wouldn’t really be able to be anything else , so that seemed like a pretty easy promise to make, so he nodded. “Deal.”

He stayed next to Yellow-Father for a while, pressed right up against his side and chewed on his thumbnail as the grownups watched A-Yuan and A-Ling to cartwheel competitions and talked. (He wasn’t supposed to chew on his nails, Great-Uncle Qiren scolded him about manners, but he just kept finding his fingers in his mouth sometimes and he had no idea how they even got there.)

After a bit of them talking, Yellow-Father pet his head and murmured all soft down to him, “Do you think you’re a little grumpy because you miss Blue- die ?” 

And A-Fu didn’t like that question because it made a bunch of tears rear up and clog his throat like they had been waiting to pounce, so he just shrugged and sniffled a bit. His yellow father squeezed him closer and kept stroking his hair back from his face, which helped them sorta fade away without coming out. “He’ll be alright, Fufu. Everything is under control.”

Uncle Zixuan reached over and squeezed his knee. “Zewu-jun is a very strong cultivator, A-Fu, and he’s in good hands.”

A-Fu didn’t like this conversation, so he just said, “Do you wanna see me cartwheel? I can totally do two in a row!”

While they were saying yes, they did, all the other kids came over panting and dizzy to collapse by the grownups for a bit of a break, so A-Fu got to be the star and show off all the the new tumblings he had learned in class, so that was pretty cool!  He fell over a couple times and kept hitting his head. “Don’t help me, don’t help me, I can do it!” he yelled every time Yellow-Father looked like he was worrying-- Uncle Zixuan kept having to pat him on the shoulder to keep him from getting up and coming over. 

Finally, he managed to do 3 cartwheels in a row and then one of the ones he forgot the name of where you landed with both feet together--and he only stumbled, like, the tiniest bit--and he felt like he was the king of the world when everyone clapped for him. 

That feeling didn’t last super long, though. Because right after that, A-Fu saw his and Jin Ling’s nemesises .

Both Uncle Zixuan and Yellow-Father got ‘Jin-gongzi’-ed and ‘Jin-er-gongzi’-ed away to do some Important Business by some guy who poked his head into the courtyard. A-Qiang cried and cried to see his father leaving; so the big kids acted very grown up about it and didn’t make any fusses at all, to show him how it was done (even though A-Fu did feel a little grumpy about it.) The babies got given back to the 2 nannies that appeared to take them back home for feeding time. But then, the nanny that was left had to hurry A-Qiang off to go to the bathroom or something, telling the 3 big kids to ‘stay put.’ They were just about to practice handstands again when they heard a voice saying, “Oh look who it is. ” 

It was Jin Chan and his gang.

Jin Chan was the worst. Whenever he showed up, it was a bad day, because he had a stupid face and a stupid way of talking and he never, ever had anything nice to say and he picked on everyone.  He was just a little older than A-Fu, but he pretended like he was 10 times smarter and he was always followed around by a group of boys that were just as nasty as him. They weren’t always the same kids whenever A-Fu saw them, but they always followed whatever Jin Chan said, like he was a Sect Leader or something. A-Fu had run into him a few times in Koi Tower and at a few Cultivation Conferences, but he had heard even more about him from A-Ling, who had to live with him. He would trip people and say he didn’t, he would steal things or break them on purpose, he would make fun of things you were eating, or your clothes, or whatever.  One time, they saw him push a kid into the Lotus Pier Lake. Last time they ran into him, Jin Chan said that even though his name was Lan Fu, which meant luck, he was an unlucky jinx that made his birth parents die. 

He was totally Evil, and Lan rules said not to association with Evil--and A-Fu had no problem not associationing with Jin Chan and his gang, if he could help it. 

Today, he was smirking and strutting around all slow. “It’s LingLing and the Lan babies in our courtyard.” His friends all laughed, even though he hadn’t said anything funny at all. There weren’t a ton of them this time, but they were all kinda tall, even taller than A-Yuan who was just, like, a couple inches bigger than A-Fu. 

But A-Yuan was looking nervously around for a grownup, not like he wanted to use his tallness to help beat up stupid bullies. And A-Fu didn’t need an adult’s help telling someone to shut their stupid face. “Shut your stupid face, Jin Chan. We’re not babies,” he announced back, just as loud.

Next to him, Jin Ling puffed up, hands on his hips and said, “Yeah! And this isn’t your courtyard, it’s ours ; we were here first.”

The breeze that had been nice and perfume-y now seemed like an ominous wind on a battlefield in a legend. Jin Chan rolled his eyes, elbowing his friends, like they  had said something funny, which made A-Fu’s mad go all boily in his stomach and he clenched his fists. “Aww, what are you gonna do, LingLing? Tell your parents? What’s your die gonna do? He’s just a son-of-a, and you’re just a son-of-a-son-of-a. You’re not special. You’re stupid. And plus your niang is totally useless.” 

Jin Ling’s face and ears turned all bright red and he stomped over to Jin Chan, getting up in his face on his tiptoes. “You shut up about my a-niang!” he shouted. “Or I’ll--!”

A-Yuan hurried over and pulled Jin Ling back away from him by his arm--but he did exclaim, “You can’t say things like that!” back at the group of laughing older boys. “You’re being mean on purpose! I’m going to tell!”

“Oh, shut up!” One of the other bullies piped up. “Lan’s can’t tell us what to do in Lanling!”

Another one with mean eyebrows said, all smug, “Yeah. Plus, my yiyi said they’re both bastards.”

“Well, your yiyi is a stupid piece of crap!” A-Fu snapped back. ‘Bastard’ was a forbidden word in his family--he didn’t know exactly what it meant, but whatever it was, he knew it was supposed to be bad.

“And so are you!” A-Ling added, kicking a rock toward that guy with a scuff.

“Guys! Let’s just go!” A-Yuan begged, expression all worried, then turned and told Jin Chan and his gang, “It’s against the rules to fight! You’re all gonna get everyone in trouble, stop it!”

“Ooooh, I’m so scared!” Jin Chan pretended to shiver, and then straightened up and  laughed like an evil villain. “You’re such a coward, A-Yuan. Hanguang-jun should be so embarrassed to have a coward-son.”

A-Yuan’s chin got crinkly like he was going to cry and it made every bit of A-Fu start shaking like a mountain with a thousand boulders crashing down the sides. His boily stomach was red hot with fury. A-Fu was more used to scuffling than A-Ling was, but A-Yuan hadn't been in any fights at all ever because he stayed in the Cloud Recesses so much. He didn't know that bullies like this didn't care about rules or grownups or being mean. 

It was up to A-Fu to protect all of them.

“You better leave them alone! I’m gonna pop you so hard that your face’ll turn inside out!” he yelled, raising up his fists in front of him to show he meant business. “Plus, my die’ s could totally beat you up, for your information, so you better watch out!" 

The other boys stuck out their tongues and jeered while Jin Chan shook his head, saying, “You’re so stupid. We’re not scared. And you’re not even a son-of-a. Your die is fake. You’re an orphan. You’re bad luck.”

He heard A-Ling say something, but it was like there was a loud river in his ears and he couldn’t pay attention at all. “I told you, I am not bad luck! They’re not fake!”

“Uh, yeah he is and yeah, you are. You’re an orphan. Your real parents died and Zewu-jun can’t find a wife because of you. ”

A-Fu’s tummy swirled around like slimy angry snakes even more, and he shoved Jin Chan back, shouting, “I don’t! I’m not! He doesn’t need a wife! He’s got Gray- die and Yellow- die !!”

Jin Chan stumbled back, then scowled. He stomped up and shoved A-Fu back, harder, and he crashed back into A-Yuan. Right away, A-Yuan wrapped his arms around A-Fu to hold him back, pinning his arms down, keeping him there. The Jin Chan gang all made scoffy noises and laughed, repeating A-Fu in high pitched voices while Jin Chan said, “What are you even talking about? Yellow-who?”

A-Fu wriggled hard, trying to break free, but A-Yuan was really strong and hanging on tight. “Chifeng-zun and Lianfang-zun!”

“PFF!” Jin Chan blew out a raspberry. “Those are his sworn brothers, you moron, not a wife. And anyway, my die says that Lianfang-zun’s not even a son-of-a anything but a whore .” 

That was it. He may not know what that word meant either, but he knew that Jin Chan was being a son-of-a alright! It was a special word that he learned from the Nie, and he roared it like a tiger as he finally ripped out of A-Yuan’s arms and pounced on the bullies.

It took the Jin nanny and A-Yuan and A-Ling to pull them all apart. The Jin Chan gang were all cowards, because they all scrambled up and ran right away so they didn’t get in trouble with the grownup . A-Fu shouted so after them and the nanny shushed him really hard and scolded them all nonstop. Apparently, A-Yuan had sent Jin Ling to go get a grownup when he figured out that A-Fu was gonna fight no matter what and A-Fu just hadn’t noticed. 

Now, him and A-Yuan were shut inside Yellow-Father’s office, waiting for him to come back. They were alone and it was quiet ‘cause the Jin nanny had taken A-Qiang and A-Ling away. “We’re gonna get in so much trouble,” A-Yuan moaned from where he was balled up tight on his own floor cushion next to A-Fu’s, face buried in his hands. “A-Fu, why’d you do that?! We aren’t s’posed to fight or do ‘vulgar language’!”

A-Fu poked at his bleeding and puffy lip with his tongue. “Th’o? We aren’t in the Cloud Rethetheth. And they were mean to you! You heard what he said, they deserved it! I’m not sorry.” 

And he wasn’t. Even though his head and hands and knees and face and right eye hurt and felt like someone was pounding a drum inside his skin, he would totally do it all over again. He would defend his family all over again, no problem--except he would probably punch Jin Chan sooner, this time. So what if his eye was all swelly and his lip was bleeding? That’s what warriors did--they got hurt protecting things on purpose, just like Gray-Father said. Pride puffed up in his chest and he sat up straight. His fathers would be proud of him for doing the right thing, he was totally sure. This time, he wasn’t even just fighting because someone was annoying him; he was being noble and honorable! There were lots of rules about defending and not talking bad and not insulting people.

…There were also rules about not fighting, but, like, how did wars happen, then? Great-Uncle Qiren couldn’t scold war heroes, right? He was like the hero of the Koi Tower Courtyard Battle!

A-Yuan uncurled to look over to see him wiggling at his tooth with his fingers. “Why can’t you just calm down?! Look how beat up you got!”

A-Fu shrugged. “I’m okay. Are you okay?” He had seen A-Yuan fall over a few times when he was trying to stop them fighting before the Jin nanny came back. 

Instead of answering, his cousin reached out a hand and patted all worried at his face. It hurt a lot, but A-Fu was being super brave about it so he just sat there and let him. “I think you’re gonna get a black eye. It’s all poofy.”

“Really? Cool!”

A-Yuan looked like he really didn’t think that was cool at all, but A-Yuan sometimes didn’t understand stuff like that. He was too stuck on rules and not getting in trouble. Together, they waited and waited for Yellow-Father to appear. A-Yuan stayed all curled up and rocking nervously on his cushion, but A-Fu eventually got bored. Sitting and sucking on his lip was making his tummy feel yucky. When he started wandering around, A-Yuan hissed that he should come sit down, but he was way more interested in exploring. He didn’t get to go in Yellow-Father’s office much! 

It turned out to be pretty boring though, because everything was locked up tight and the only things on his desk were papers, an ink grinding station and brush, those weird blocky paperweights, and a swirly looking incense burner that looked like ones Blue-Father had at the Cloud Recesses. He peered at the sheets of paper, but only recognized a couple of the characters and even then, he couldn’t really remember what they meant. 

When he started grinding ink, he caught A-Yuan watching him with his face screwed up in upsettedness, so he smiled all reassuring. It didn’t seem to help. Oh well. Blue-Father and Yellow-Father always let him paint when he felt like it, so A-Yuan had nothing to worry about, here. He maybe added a little too much water to the ink and it splashed on the desk, but after he hastily scrubbed at it with his sleeves, you could hardly tell there had been an accident at all. A-Yuan eventually came over to see what he was doing and seemed relieved when A-Fu pointed out that he was being careful to draw around all the words on the papers, so it wasn’t a problem. “Okay.” he said, but didn’t say anything else.

Pleased that he wasn’t whining about how they were gonna get in trouble anymore, A-Fu invited him to sit next to him on Yellow-Father’s chair-cushion and draw with him. “Yellow-Father always gets super happy when I give him paintings,” A-Fu added, which seemed to help him make up his mind.

Together, they took turns adding little faces and animals on the tops and sides of the pages. Some of A-Fu’s bunnies looked like turds and some of the ink got runny and made the paper wet, but it helped to cheer them both up after a tough day. Plus, it would cheer up Yellow-Father too, when he saw it when he got back to work! A-Fu was in the middle of carefully painting himself backflipping a million times and slicing off Jin Chan���s head with his super cool sword when Yellow-Father came in. 

“Boys!”

The first thing he did was come over and kneel down and worry over both of them being hurt, making upset faces over A-Fu’s puffy lip and eye. He wasn’t at all excited when A-Fu showed him his first loose tooth, for some reason. “Are you both alright? Your poor face. Does it hurt very badly? A-Yuan, are you hurt? Thank goodness. Fufu, what have we told you about fighting? What happened?”

Immediately, A-Fu and A-Yuan started babbling over each other about what happened, pointing and waving and hopping;

 “I tried to stop them--!”

“--was doing handstands--!”

“--wouldn’t listen!”

“--Jin Chan and his stupid gang came in--!”

“--was so mean, saying son-of-a’s--!”

“--said I was a jinx and I was like ‘shut up’--!”

“--and I told A-Ling to run and get someone--!”

“Boys--”

“--he was like ‘he needs a wife’ and I was like ‘no he doesn’t’--!”

“--so I grabbed him--!”

“--being evil and we don’t asso-associoning with--!”

“--didn’t wanna do it--!”

“Shh, one at a time--”

“--and so I called him a son-of-a-bitch and kicked his nards off--!”

Yellow-Father closed his eyes for a second. “A-Fu--”

“--and that’s a vulgar language--!”

“--and bit him and what’s ‘whore’?”

Yellow-Father had been grimacing back and forth between the two of them, his hands held up to calm them down, but now his eyes snapped over to stare at A-Fu. His eyes were wide.

After a second of silence, he said, voice very quiet and tight, “What did you say?”

A-Fu blinked. “Uh…what’s a ‘whore’? Jin Chan said it. ‘Son-of-a whore’? Is it like son-of-a-bitch?”

Drawing in a sharp breath through his nose, his father stood up, turning away. “Go sit down, boys,” he told them, still just as quiet--he didn’t sound angry, but A-Fu didn’t get it. 

“What? Are you mad? I was just--”

“A-Fu, stop. Please. Go sit down.” 

Grumpily, he let A-Yuan drag him back over to the cushions in front of the desk as Yellow-Father went over to a set of drawers in the corner. But then, without doing anything to them, he turned and went to look out the window, his hands behind his back. A-Fu opened his mouth to keep asking questions, but A-Yuan shushed him with his hands waving in his face.

After a few more moments of silence, Yellow-Father took in a deep breath, and turned back slowly to the desk. “I’m--what’s this?” he interrupted himself though as he looked down, right at the art that he and A-Yuan had left him.

“Paintings!”

Without saying anything, he picked it up. A-Fu was waiting for him to smile and compliment his art like he usually did, but his face didn’t get happier, he just closed his eyes. Then, he took a deep breath as he set it back down. Then, eyes still closed he said. “Fufu, you cannot fight like this in Koi Tower.”

“But I--!”

“This is not how we solve problems. When you are the son of a zongzhu , you must be careful of your actions and your words.”

All of the proud in A-Fu was mushing into shock and angry. Why was he getting in trouble for doing the right thing? “Are you mad? Are you mad at me? Why are you yelling at me? That’s not fair!” Next to him, A-Yuan tugged at his sleeve, trying to shush him again quietly.

“I’m not yelling, Fufu and I’m not angry. There are just particular rules we must abide by as cultivators--”

“He was saying bad things about our family! I was defending you!”

Yellow-Father opened his eyes and smiled; it was a lying smile, because his eyebrows still looked frustrated or worried. A Fake Jin Smile. “It is not your job as a child to--”

“I was right! We protect people!”

“Stop yelling!” A-Yuan hissed in his ear, but he didn’t even care about that right now.

“Fufu, we cannot hit people when you have a conflict. You should leave the area and tell me and I will take care of it.”

“I’m not afraid of Jin Chan!”

“That’s not what I’m worried about--”

“I’m a warrior, like you and Blue- die and Gray- die! ”

His father’s lips pressed together before he forced another not-true-smile and said in a calm, convincing sort of voice, “Fufu, you’re old enough now that you can’t talk about your Gray- die or me like that anymore. It is not something that other people are going to understand. From now on, you need to call me your xiao-shushu , like A-Ling and A-Qiang.”

A-Fu couldn’t believe his ears. His tummy squinched up all sick and angry and shocked and scared, like shock dumped cold water all over him. Because he thought A-Fu messed up, he wasn’t his father anymore? How could he do that?

“You have to understand--”

“You’re going away ?!”

“No, no, of course--”

All the emotions in A-Fu’s tummy were zinging around through all of him, shaking him, and he had to stand up, peeling off A-Yuan’s hand. “You’re--Why’re you being so mean ?! I didn’t do anything bad! You can’t leave me!”

Yellow-Father all of a sudden looked as shocked as A-Fu felt and he came around his desk, kneeling down in front of him again, taking his shoulders. “No, no, no, Fufu, you're misunderstanding. I’m not leaving, I’m not going anywhere, I’m simply saying you cannot call me Yellow- die in public anymore.”

“Just ‘cause I punched Jin Chan!? I did the right thing! I was protecting!” Furious, scared tears were hot in his eyes, stinging the one that got kicked. “That’s our job!” All his fathers had said so!

“No, this is not a punishment--”

“You are!”

Yellow-Father shook his head and dabbed the back of his knuckle at the corner of A-Fu’s eyes. “You can’t say all the things you want to just anyone anymore, Fufu, it’s part of growing up. You have to have discretion , you have to be careful-- ”

He twisted his head away from his gentle hand. “It’s lying! It’s--It’s against the rules, the rules in Cloud Recesses!” he blurted out when he all of a sudden thought of it--grownups always cared more about rules.

Yellow-Father let his hand fall back to his shoulder, shaking his head. “Shh, this is different. It’s simply not safe to talk about this with other people, and you’re at an age, now, that you must start being more careful about how you speak and who you tell what. Not everyone is allowed to know everything about you.”

The tears finally spilled over as A-Fu stared at his worried face, smile nowhere to be seen--not even a lying one. This was just like when Great-Uncle Qiren said he couldn’t have 3 fathers, but ten thousand times worse because it was coming from Yellow-Father himself. He most of the time remembered not to say things around Madam Jin, and he tried to remember all the rules about who acted weird about his fathers, but now, he had to not tell anyone at all ? Ever ? “That’s not fair! I don’t tell everyone! Gray- die and Blue- die don’t make me lie about them!”

“At Koi Tower--”

With a huge wrench, he pulled himself out of Yellow-Father’s grip, just like he had with A-Yuan earlier, and backed away. “Why do Jin’s always gotta try to take away my family?! Why are you letting them, die ?! I don’t gotta lie to the Nie!” 

A-Yuan stayed curled up on his cushion with his hands covering his ears, watching both of them all scared. Yellow-Father stood up and came forward, reaching out to him.  “Fufu, please; take a deep breath and lower your voice. They are different circumstances, Chifeng- zun …has a very different--”

A-Fu didn’t want to take a deep breath or calm down! He wanted to throw all the stuff on Yellow-Father’s desk on the floor. He wanted Yellow-Father to know just how mad this made him because he wasn’t listening! He yelled louder, “That’s not convicting! You gotta do it, even when it’s hard or not fun!”

“Lan Fu--” his voice had a little bit of warning and that just made A-Fu madder, more tears clogging up inside his face, making his injuries throb and ache. 

How come A-Fu always got in trouble?! How come it was just rules rules rules and doing everything wrong? And now, his father didn’t even want to be his father anymore! “You’re the worst die ! You’re so mean! I hate you! I don’t wanna be here anymore! I wanna go home!” he shouted as loud as his lungs could take, his throat burning.

His father went pale, hand still outstretched, frozen. When the door all of a sudden opened, he flinched. It was Uncle Zixuan and Uncle Wangji, both with frowns, one big and one small. A-Yuan ran to Uncle Wangji as soon as he saw him, clinging to his thigh and hiding his face in his robes as the door shut quick behind them. 

“Lan Fu, you cannot speak to your die that way,” Uncle Zixuan said all stern and hushed as he turned away from it, “Lower your voice right now.”

Everyone was being awful! If grownups got to be terrible, he got to be terrible right back! He was already in trouble for something that wasn’t his fault , so he didn’t care anymore! All the angry and hurt and scared burst out of A-Fu in one loud, wordless scream as he stomped his feet and balled up his fists.

“Stop.” Uncle Wangji’s voice wasn't loud, but it cut over A-Fu’s yell and made everyone look over at him. 

A-Fu did, but he still glared around at them all. His breaths were sobbing in and out like he had just run a thousand miles.

"What would your Blue- die say about your behavior?" Uncle Zixuan demanded, going over to Yellow-Father who was still standing silently, smiling a weird little smile at the floor without seeming to see it. 

Probably to be empathy or something, but A-Fu didn't care. "I don't care! I don't wanna be here ever again! I hate it! No one here loves me! And I hate them!”

“Stop,” Uncle Wangji said again--still not loud, but sharper this time. “Do not use words that you do not mean and cannot take back. Apologize to Lianfang-zun.”

“It’s alright. He doesn’t need to. He’s just upset.” Yellow-Father said quietly. 

“ Didi, ” Uncle Zixuan argued in a quiet voice, putting a hand on Yellow-Father’s shoulder, frowning deeper. “He shouldn’t be allowed to be so disrespectful towards you. This sort of behavior--”

A-Fu just couldn’t take it anymore. No one ever listened to him! No one was ever on his side! All they wanted to see was him just messing up, they didn’t care that he had defended all of them against Jin Chan and his gang! 

Before anyone could say anything else, he ducked around Uncle Wangji and A-Yuan by the door and ran out as fast as he could. Behind him, down the hall, he heard a grownup calling his name, but he didn’t even slow down. A couple servants gave him weird looks and one or two court ladies talked behind their delicate circle fans as he pelted past, but he didn’t stop for them either. He was totally out of breath from running and crying by the time ran past all the stupid Jin’s stupid statues and stupid tapestries and stupid Jin everything and flung himself onto his stupid Jin bed, face down. He wasn’t sorry! He would never be sorry! Yellow-Father was being unfair and horrible and trying to pretend A-Fu wasn’t his son anymore! 

He would show them--he would run away and hide where they couldn’t find him and wouldn’t come out for days and days until they were all sorry. He wouldn’t come out until they called for him 500 million times. They would be so worried and never be mean to him again. Maybe he would even run away for real. Maybe…maybe….

A-Fu woke up with a snort. The birds were twittling outside his window that was shining super hot sun right down into his eyeballs. His whole mouth tasted like yucky metal. Scrunching up his aching face, he rolled up onto his knees, wiping away drool and sweat with his sleeve--then yelped when it swiped his puffy eye. He barely could even see out of it, now. He poked at it a little, swinging his legs off the bed. Then gulped.

Through his open door, he could see Uncle Wangji sitting at the table of the sitting room with a cup of tea. Even though he was looking at the wall, A-Fu knew that he knew that A-Fu was awake. And now A-Fu remembered everything that had happened. Uh oh.

Maybe he could just stay in here and fall back asleep. He thought about it a second, looking at his pillow and jostled up blue blankets. Uncle Wangji probably wouldn’t let him, though. Some of his mad puddled back as muddy grumpiness and he scowled. “I’m--”

Without looking over, Uncle Wangji held up a hand. A-Fu fell sullenly silent. When his uncle nodded his head at the seat across from him, he slowly got up and dragged his feet in and flumped down onto the pretty gold-green seat, crossing his arms and glaring at the table. But he tried to get a peek at his face--to see how mad he was. 

His eyes were on A-Fu, now, and he just looked like he always did, but no sneaky small secret smiles hid in his mouth. How did A-Yuan deal with getting in trouble when his father always had a ‘you just got in trouble’ face? Well…A-Yuan didn’t really hardly ever get in trouble. So he guessed that was his answer. 

“You are going to apologize to your die . And then we are leaving.” He sounded serious, but that wasn’t new.

A-Fu hunched farther into his seat. “I don’t want to. I’m mad. I’m mad at him. I’m not sorry.”

“You were unfair and unfilial. You will apologize because it is respectful, whether or not you are still angry.”

“But he wanted me to lie! He wanted me to say he wasn’t my die ! It’s not fair!”

Uncle Wangji was quiet for so long that A-Fu snuck another look up at him. There wasn’t a big change in his expression, but he was looking down at his teacup. “I spoke with him. The matter is complex. There are things that are rejected, even when they are not wrong.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Nevertheless. When you choose to stand by things others eschew, you must be ready to accept the consequences. You are too young to fully understand those consequences.”

“I’m not afraid!”

“It is not about fear. It is about responsibility.” 

“...Huh?”

Uncle Wangji looked straight into his eyes, a tightness appearing in little lines next to his nose.  “Without understanding, there is fear. Fear…can have terrible repercussions. It is a weapon.”

“...Okay…?”

“Your actions do not just affect yourself. Do you remember what this represents?” He reached up, touched the silver cloud pendant in the middle of his forehead.

Automatically, A-Fu’s hand went up to feel his own, a small white triangle on the white cloth instead. “It’s the headband. It’s sacred. Only families touch it.” What did that have to do with anything?

“It is a symbol of restraint and discipline. When you wear this, you represent your Sect, your Clan, and your family. It is important to know your own responsibility. Your consequences don’t just befall you. Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh,” A-Fu said, automatically, even though he only sorta got it.

Kinda. …Maybe. Maybe he would ask Blue-Father about it when he got back, just to make sure. Either way, it sure sounded like ‘consequences’ was Uncle Wangji’s pocket word.

“Come,” Uncle Wangji stood, tucking one hand behind his back like always, Bichen glittering in his other one. “A-Yuan and Lianfang-zun are waiting. When we return, I will speak with xiongzhang to decide your discipline.”

Aw, farts. At least he wasn’t really getting yelled at, though all his mad felt kind of slimy and guilty, now. He did feel bad for yelling mean things at Yellow-Father. But he also felt just so frustrated at the whole thing, y’know?! The grownups really needed to work on listening.

When he and Uncle Wangji got back to the office and he mumbled a ‘sorry’ to Yellow-Father, it was like nothing had even happened. Yellow-Father was his normal sunny, smiley self and didn’t even mention the fighting again, he just asked about what hurt where, and then dabbed on some cream that smelled like something sharp and like flowers onto all his bruises. It was nice enough that A-Fu was tired of holding onto all his mad and climbed up into his lap when he held out his arms. Keeping arguments in his head made his tummy hurt. And he was just happy to be cuddled and not be yelled at anymore. He was so ready to go pet some bunnies with A-Yuan when they got back to the Cloud Recesses.

What a stressful visit!

Just to make sure, before they left, he craned his neck back to look up at his father, and asked, seriously, “You’re still always my die , though, right? Even…even if I gotta lie?”

Yellow-Father blinked, then smiled back down at him. “Of course.”

“Forever?”

“Well, will you always be my xiao-Fufu?”

“Yeah.”

His smile got a little softer at the edges as he smoothed A-Fu’s hair back from his forehead, then tucked a tail of his headband back over his shoulder. “Then it’s a deal.”

[not-poignant]

Stardew Valley - 39/? - A Stain that Won’t Dissolve - Alex/Sebastian

Title: A Stain that Won’t Dissolve Rating: Explicit Pairing: Alex/Sebastian Tags: Hurt/comfort, aged-up characters (mid 20s), minor character death, angst, injury, grief, miscommunication, bullying, enemies to lovers, dubious consent, internalised homophobia, closeted character, past child abuse, dyslexia, antagonist farmer, unrequited love, pining, acceptance, top!Sebastian, bottom!Alex, power dynamics, happy ending.

Summary: Alex hates Sebastian – which is great because Sebastian more than returns the favour – and what starts out as revenge fantasy turns into unironic lust, which evolves into unrequited love. Alex gets a job, Sebastian marries the farmer, and both of them lose almost everything before finding each other again. A story of two mutual bullies who learn how to messily grow up.

A Stain that Won’t Dissolve (Alex/Sebastian) - Chapter 39 - An Ungentle Fall

In which Alex tells Sebastian he’s cleaning Robin’s house, and Sebastian is kind of weird about it. And then Alex cleans Robin’s house and has a terrible, demoralising encounter with Demetrius.

[chaosduckies]

Restoration (Chapter 10)

I cut this one a bit short since I want the next one to be long. THAT’S where I’m deciding to put the TWO scenes I thought of. It will make you cry, and at the same time make your heart melt. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 3.1k

CW: Witnessing a birth, mentions of death, That’s all for this one!

10-Ryker 

Everything was going downhill. 

There were warnings everywhere around the neighborhood I lived in. That humans living here should find a place to stay on the human side of the city. The riots were getting out of hand. Of course that was something to worry about, but I was really just worried about one other thing. Where would Lucky and Angela live? 

They can’t stay here. If those people come around and they find them, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if something bad happens. It was better if I find someplace for them to stay. Away from the people that want to kill them. I was not about to let something bad happen to them because I kept them here. 

I had talked with Jasmine, and she said we should take down all of the elevators and hide the human room in case someone decides to barge into our house looking for harbored humans. It was smart, but it might take a while to get rid of all the elevators. There were a lot. I still didn’t have a place for Lucky and Angela to go. 

Nathan could always… no. That’s asking too much. Taking care of my own siblings? I couldn’t ask him to do that. I’m sure his mom doesn’t want two other people to look after either. I really didn’t know what to do. Maybe if I ask? No. Nonono. No asking. I’m sure Nathan already has his own problems to deal with. I can’t put more stress on him. The movie last night was great until I thought he would be fine if I just grabbed him. He absolutely freaked out and I didn’t know why I even did that. So could he really handle a four year old who absolutely loves hugs and a fifteen year old who is just so full of energy and loves playing sports. Is that a good combo with someone who was wary about being touched and hates the cold weather? No. I don’t think so. 

I groaned, leaning against the kitchen island and burying my head in my hands. What do I do? I can’t just give them to some random person! What if they hurt them or something worse? I guess I could always call Lucky, but what fi they take away his phone? 

There was small giggling from in front of me. I picked my head up, seeing Angela holding up a picture she drew. Of course I can barely see it when she’s standing so far away, but I just forged the best smile I could and scooped her up. She giggled even more, hugging the stuffed panda Nathan had given her. Speaking of… I need to find him a gift. 

“What is it, Angel?”  

“Lucky told me we have to leave. Is that true?” She pouted. Nothing goes unsaid in this house. Everyone finds out eventually. I would of had to tell Angela sooner or later. Or at least before she had to leave and go live with someone else for a while. It might actually be harder for me to watch them leave. 

“I’m sorry, Angel. I just want you to be safe.” I apologized, but she only hugged what little portion she could of my thumb. Like I said, she loved hugs. 

“I don’t wanna go thoughhhh.” She didn’t let go. I sighed, lightly pressing the back of my finger up against her back. I smiled softly, “You’ll miss me?” She nodded her head, finally letting go as I pulled my finger away. She was jut a kid, I can’t tell her that some people want to kill her just for being born. That would be bad. She wouldn’t understand yet either. 

I set Angela back down on the counter, watching her take the elevator back down probably to go see what Jasmine was up to. I still remember the day she was born. Everyone was shocked. Mostly my parents, but I remember being excited to have another baby sister.

——————

We could barely hear the crying. The doctors stared in shock as they held the tiny human-sized baby in their palms. Mom was barely conscious while dad was telling her how beautiful she was. None of us could see her face. She was too small. Isabelle was asleep on the couch, Dylan and jasmine stood there shocked at the events that just took place, meanwhile, Lucky was smiling. He was going to have a human sized sister. 

The doctors told the news to our mother, who was even more shocked than us. They carefully handed her the tiny life that had immediately stopped crying after she was safely in my mother’s hand. Mom had started crying happy tears, cooing at the extremely tiny baby she was holding. 

“It’s rare, but happens. The baby is completely healthy and otherwise normal.” The doctor smiled, reading off the clipboard. I walked closer, the doctor moving out of my way so I could see. She was so tiny. Maybe the size of my fingertip. I smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Say hi to Angel, Ryker.” Mom laughed, a shaky hand reaching to the infant. Angel? I liked that name. 

Soon enough everyone was gathered around the hospital bed. Mom didn’t let the younger ones hold her, only Jasmine and I and Lucky since he was a human. When it was my turn, I swear I heard a tiny little giggle escape the baby’s mouth. I smiled, looking in awe at how tiny she really was. Adorable. 

Angel was passed back to my mother, who held her all throughout the night. We never once heard her cry at night. Not at all when she was a baby. We needed some help to get her baby clothes since none of us could fit in a human-sized store except for Lucky, who was barely eleven at the time. Dad asked a few work friends, who were happy to help. When they weren’t around, mom had to use a pipette to feed her. One tiny drop at a time. 

——————

Mom loved her so much. She kept on saying that she was an angel, so that’s what her name would be. Angela. We call her Angel because that’s what mom called her. She really was an angel though. Mom never had a hard time getting her to sleep, feeding her, rocking her. Even if she was so much bigger than her own daughter. 

So, I was not about to let anyone just watch her. We were all so protective of her because of how she was brought into the world. Supposed to be a miscarriage, but here we are, with a happy little sister. I couldn’t let her see the bad part of life yet. It would make me a terrible older brother. 

As for Lucky, I didn’t want him to go back to a place where no one wanted him. Where he was afraid. The adoption center we found him in treated him badly as he was the only human there, so I was just glad I convince him to come with us. Now look at him. He was glued to Dylan and wasn’t scared of anything anymore. Could I let him go back to that terrible place? No. I will not be at any point in time. 

Nathan was my only choice. I didn’t trust anyone else, and I couldn’t let them stay here. Plus, Angel and Lucky like him. I doubt Nathan is able to physically hurt someone anyways. It was my best option. Now I just have to hope that he’s okay with it. 

I picked up my phone, and texted him. 

———Nathan———

My phone went off. I was in my room finishing off one of the books the librarian recommended to me. I picked up my phone, stuffing my bookmark where I left off and checked my messages. 

Ryker: Sorry for bothering you so much lately, but I have a hugeeee favor to ask you 

I already knew what he was going to ask. After what we saw on the news last night, I’m sure he was looking for a place Lucky and Isabelle could be at. Assuming I was the only other human he knew besides his own siblings, I was probably his best bet. I don’t mind though. Lucky and Isabelle are both my friends so how could I say no? 

Nathan: You’re not bothering me :) 

Nathan: What’d you need?  

Ryker: Could you maybe watch Lucky and Isabelle? Just until this whole riot thing blows over 

Ryker: You don’t have though 

Nathan: It’s fine! 

Nathan: I kind of expected this after last night 

Nathan: Let me just make sure my mom was okay with it 

Ryker: TYSM you’re the best 

I laughed, placing my phone back on the desk by my bed and heading into the living room where my mom was finishing up some papers for work. She smiled when she saw me walk in. She took the day off to finish up her work and stay with me. School was cancelled until after Christmas break because of what happened last night. The riots were getting out of hand, and people nearly died. She just wanted to make sure I would be okay at the house alone. Apparently I wouldn’t be alone all that much this time. 

“H-hey mom,” I started, “Ryker asked if his human siblings could stay here. B-because of what happened last night. He doesn’t want them to get hurt and he just asked if they could stay here for a week or two?” 

She smiled softly, putting her pen down, “Of course! You sure it won’t be too much on you? You know I’m working all week.” I nodded my head. If I can take care of myself and my mom, then I’m sure two others won’t be too bad. Plus, I’m sure my mom has some tips for Angela. She absolutely loves kids. 

“Alright then, I can’t wait to meet them!” She cheered as I walked back to my room. I knew she would say yes, I just had to make sure. It’s nice to know I can start slowly repaying Ryker for everything he’s done for me. This was just one small, insignificant way to repay him. 

Nathan: Yeah they can come! When though?

Ryker: Ummm in about three hours? Bus stop? 

Ryker: I don’t want go at night and I want to get them as far away from here as possible

Nathan: Sure! 

Nathan: I’ll be waiting

Ryker: Thank you so much  

Nathan: Anytime :D

Three hours wasn’t that long. I could finish my book and get ready to head out. I don’t know if my mom would want to come. Probably not since she’d most likely have some kind of greeting for them. Maybe she’ll just summon a gift out of nowhere. She does that sometimes. I’ve learned to never underestimate her when it comes to gifts. 

I finished the book, ending with the main character presenting his portfolio while also reflecting on everything that’s happened to him. His brother died, his other brother was broken because of it, he had to be the one to fix his family, and he did it. I liked it. It was a sweet ending. I still had about an hour and a half left until I had to go pick up Lucky and Angela. What should I do in the meantime? Well the first thing that pops up in my head is to bake. Because of course it is. It’s my main coping mechanism and it’s easy to do when you’re pretty good at it. 

Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed everything I needed for just some basic cookies, measured everything up, mixed it, and put it in the oven. My mom had appeared out of nowhere and sat down at one of the stools. 

“Smells good.” She smiled. I smiled back, taking a seat in the stroll next to her. 

“Everything alright, Nate?” She asked. She knew when I bake it’s because something is wrong. Today though, I was just doing it for fun. Also because I didn’t want Lucky and Angela to come without me giving them something. I’m just trying to make a good impression. 

“Yeah. Just making them a little gift.” 

“You care a lot about Ryker, don’t you? I mean, you are taking care of his own siblings for him,” She started, placing a cold hand on my shoulder, “He sounds like a nice friend though.” 

I nodded my head, “He is… I’m just trying to pay him back. F-for everything.” I started playing with my hands. I’m no longer as scared as I was before I met Ryker, I’ve been able to have someone to talk to, I’ve had the experience of actually having a friend, and I feel bad that I can’t give him anything back. 

“Nate, buddy, a good friend doesn’t ever ask for something in return I hope you know. You don’t always have to pay him back.” She advised. I sighed. I knew that… but I wanted to do this. It was the right thing. Was I just about to abandon his siblings to be left in that neighborhood where people were practically trying to weed out any and all humans on their side. 

“I know. But it’s nice to know that I’m at least helpful in some way.” 

My mom patted me on the back lightly, making me sit straight up and offer a nervous smile. She muttered a sorry before heading back to the living room to finish her paperwork. Five more minutes until the cookies were done. I couldn’t do anything else for Ryker except do what he asks me to. I mean, that’s what it means being a human right? You can’t do anything for anyone if they’re not the same size as you, yet a giant can give so much to a human, and still give more to their own people. Wait… Why was I thinking so hard about this?I didn’t even expect Ryker to give me anything. Ah. I’m spiraling again. 

I took the pan out of the oven, seeing the perfectly golden-brown cookies. They smelled delicious as always.  

——————

I waited by the bus stop, constantly checking the time and immediately stuffing my hands back into the warmth of my pocket. I can’t wait to get home, get under the blankets, and cuddle near the heater. Weird? Don’t care. I’m freakishly cold right now, and it was only getting closer as Christmas came around the corner. 

Ryker came into view, a sad look on his face. Right. Parting ways with his siblings he’s lived with his entire life. Why do I get the feeling Jasmine was going to threaten me again? I shuddered at the thought, but smiled and waved as soon as they had stopped in front of me. 

There was no way in heck that I was ready to see Ryker standing up to his full height from the ground, so I just focused on something else. The many cracks in the sidewalk, how many pieces of grass stuck in between the cracks. It helps. Only a little though. 

First up was the goodbyes for Angela. Jasmine was slightly crying, but she wiped those tears away. I knew they were close. Isabelle had hugged Angela up close, and then Ryker and Dylan all gave her a makeshift hug. Angela ran up to me, giving me a tight hug. I only slightly jumped, trying to seem comfortable around Ryker’ siblings. I admit, the ugly bothered me, but was I just supposed to deny a four-year old child a hug? I remember when I was little that was all I wanted. 

Dylan joked around with Lucky before letting him down on the ground. Lucky waved a goodbye to everyone. I was kind of surprised that was it. Then again, he was fifteen. I doubt he’d want his own siblings embarrassing him in front of me. I wouldn’t think anything of it. Not like I don’t do anything embarrassing all the time. 

“Thanks again. You didn’t have to.” Ryker thanked me, giving his best smile. I couldn’t help but catch the way the edges of his mouth twitched. This was hard for him to see them leave. It would be hard for me too if you only had your siblings left in the world and now they had to leave because it wasn’t safe for them. Maybe they don’t trust me all too much… If that’s the case then I was their only hope. 

They had all left, except for Jasmine, who crouched down and brought her face close to me, a mean and annoyed look on her face. I let out a quiet squeak, backing up. Lucky just stood in front of me, shaking his head. He doesn’t have to defend me- 

“If I find out that they even have the slightest little bruise, I’ll murder you.” She promised, standing up and now joining the rest of her siblings. A shiver ran down my spine. 

“Ah don’t take her seriously. She’s a real softie once you get to know her.” Lucky patted me on the back while Angela grabbed his hand. Yeah… Only joking he says. I think she means it when she gets that close to me. 

We walked back to my house where my mom handed them a plate full of my cookies, which they both gladly took and ate in the matter of seconds. My mom sat with Angela in the empty room playing, “tea party” with whatever stuffed animals Angela brought. Meanwhile, Lucky and I were watching a movie on the couch in the living room. 

“Thanks,” He started, I picked up my head, “Ryker told me about what happened last night. When he tried to grab you I mean.” 

I looked down at the floor. I still feel bad about it. Who wouldn’t? He wasn’t even trying to hurt me and I just… Agh. 

“You’re not afraid of him in general, right?” He asked. I quickly shook my head. He could never purposely scare me. It’s what he can do that scared me. Not to mention that I sometimes get those terrible nightmares which make everything a million times worse. So, no, it’s not Ryker I’m afraid of. 

“Well, all I can say is that you’ll feel better if you tell him about whatever happened to you. I know from experience. He’ll help in any way he can.” Lucky flashed me a smile, then continued to watch the movie. 

Would he really though? Anytime I’ve ever told someone and they tried to help, they just give up on me about two weeks in. What’s so different about this time? That it’s someone my age? I think that makes it worse. 

But, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea… maybe I should? 

———————————————

Ahhh oh how I love when it ends with a rhetorical question. Will he? Will he not? Hahaaa I can’t wait to post the next chapter. (I’m crushing my own soul with this one) :D

Thank you for reading!!!

(Also, WHATTTT two chapters in the span of 24 hours?? Impossible)

[bleue-flora]

Mmm… snippet of future Musical Chairs?

“Thinking about him hurts like a kick to the gut. He hasn’t seen Sapnap since he… died. Since he drowned in poisoned blood. Since he limped through the snow, a bloodied trail behind him, knowing the way and yet feeling utterly lost, wondering if he’ll ever forget the cold look in Sapnap’s eyes and the apathetic greed of his voice when he too asked about the book right before swinging a sharp sword (his sword!) into his flesh just like his fiancé had so many times before. If he’ll ever lose the frost freezing his heart as Sapnap, his friend, his brother stood there in the last possession to his name, denying Dream that small mercy of having what is his. If he’ll ever forget the sound of Sapnap’s disbelieving words as he questioned if the torture really happened as if it wasn’t clear as day from his appearance. As if he wasn’t leaning to one side, standing on a knee bent in the wrong direction. As if a vast spread of scars didn’t sprinkle across the patches of his exposed skin. As if his once dirty blonde hair wasn’t crusted in layers of blood. As if his words meant nothing, weren’t worth enough to even consider. As if he didn’t lie the last time they spoke saw eachother about coming back to visit him.”