#i’ve been having The Feels lately about my stalled conversion

[misctf]

I’m a Latino twink and I just got accepted into Alpha Delta Alpha but my fraternity brothers have been acting weird around me and I’ve overheard them talking about their “lost brother” and how something is “an abomination and needs to be fixed” there’s a party tonight and they’ve lent me some clothes I don’t want to wear them in case it’s some kind of prank

“Are you all fuckin’ serious?” Garrett Thompson cursed angrily, “Bros, what the actual fuck were you thinkin’?

“Dude, we tried our best!” One of his bros replied.

“Yeah! It wasn’t fuckin’ easy, bro.”

Garrett groaned and rubbed his temples. How could this be happening? How could... He figured it must’ve started at last year’s rager. One day, he’s a party animal. Lady’s man. Campus stud. Fuck, he lived quite the life. Then suddenly he’s a ghost. Some kind of accident. Total tragedy. Trapped between this world and the next. Just wandering around campus. Unseen, unheard, and worst of all- unable to get off. Months passed and as he wandered the frat house...

“Yooo bruh...” Jamie saw him, his eyes red from smoking weed, “Garrett is that you? So good to see you man.”

After months of not being seen, Garrett couldn’t believe it. Of course the stoner bro would make first contact. And Jaime- all too willing to delve into the occult- quickly started doing his research. Telling the other frat bros about Garrett.

“Dudes, hear me out.” Jaime slurred one night, “I know how to bring Garrett back.”

Garrett watched their plan unfold. Jaime rambling about some kind of magic and finding the perfect vessel. They would need some kind of anchor for Garrett’s spirit. He watched as they rummaged through old bins in their frat house and found his old jersey and clothes. Apparently getting some poor dumbass to wear his clothes would be all he needed to rejoin the living. But then things stalled. No one wanted to join Alpha Delta Alpha after Garrett’s accident. And no one wanted to wear some dead guy’s clothes. So, Garrett started to lose hope. Until...

“No fuckin’ way.” Garrett had thought when he saw you join the frat, “Bros!” He tried to yell, “You can’t let some fairy join! Dudes!”

But it was too late. When you joined, the frat was clearly uncomfortable. You weren’t exactly their ideal applicant. Lean and gay, you were certainly a first for Alpha Delta Alpha. And if the plan failed... well they’d be stuck with you... But it wasn’t just that. Some felt uncomfortable with the true purpose of you joining. Jaime’s plan was seen as an abomination by a few of them. But you largely ignored both the weird feelings you got and strange conversations you’d overhear tidbits of. Besides, they were your brothers.

And so when they came to you with some old clothes and told you to wear them, you did just that. After some initial hesitation, you stripped and picked up a jock strap. It was dirty, and carried a stale smell of sweat and cum. You cringed as you slowly pulled it up your legs, securing it around your cock and bubble butt.

“Fuck yeah.” Garrett said, watching you from the corner of the room. He grinned as he floated over and placed a hand on your cock, his eyes widening. It was brief, but he could actually feel the cloth of the jockstrap.  

You turned to inspect the other clothes, shifting uncomfortably at the sensation from your dick. Your tan cock started to lighten in color, becoming white with a thick, pink head. And as your bubble butt lost its padding and became thick with muscle, your cock started to grow. Inch after inch, it eventually settled on 5 inches soft. But you barely noticed these initial changes as you pulled up the basketball shorts. As they traversed your legs, the melanin in your skin broke down, turning your legs white. But it wasn’t just your skin that was changing. A forest of wiry leg hairs burst forth into existence, covering your now increasingly muscular calves and thighs. And as the shorts settled on your waist, you let out a moan.

“Fuck, he’s really enjoin’ this.” Garrett mumbled, watching as your muscular ass made contact with the bed, “Of course he is. Becomin’ a real fuckin’ man.” He grinned and sat next to you. His ghostly hand on your leg, “It’s basically jerking off.” He reassured himself as he wrapped his hand around your new cock.

You let out a moan as your cock hardened and bulged in your pants. You were always a bottom, rarely caring much about your cock. But now? Fuckkkkkkk.... It felt so good. Your mouth was agape, drool pooling as pleasure overwhelmed your brain. You hadn’t felt pleasure like this since you bottomed last. And in your haze, you looked down to see a hand. A ghostly hand.

“What?” Your eyes widened when you saw Garrett, “Oh fuck!”

Garrett pulled his hand away, “Dude! Shit! You can see me?” He could see the terror in your eyes, that only seemed to grow when he noticed his legs, “Okay, bruh... just chill.”

“No, no, no!” You say, “I...I...!”

“Stop fuckin’ talking and put the shirt on, bro.” Garrett insists, “Dude...” He grinned as he floated over to you, “I know you want this.” His hand rubbed up against the bulge in your pants, “You and me bro. Together. Come on.”

You bite your lip and resist letting out another moan. What the fuck was happening to you? What were these clothes doing to you? Did you want this? It would be nice, right? Would it? What would happen if you put the shirt on? You barely notice that the skin of your torso is becoming whiter. And your muscles are starting to expand. As you consider the possibility of becoming Garrett completely, your body is already moving in that direction. Before you can think more on this, Garrett’s ghost seemingly starts to sink into your body. His eyes are wide at first, he grins as he realizes he's being anchored.

“Wait...” You watch as your arm moves against your will and grabs the jersey, “Ohhhhhhhh....” You moan as your other hand grips your cock and starts to stroke.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and gasp. You look more and more like an Americanized Latino jock. Far from the twink you had been. And you cry out as the jersey is lowered onto your upper body. And as it settles into place, you groan. Muscles expand rapidly, filling out the jersey nicely. Your pecs become shelves- far from the lean musculature that got you compliments from all those tops. Your abs pop into existence, one by one. And you watch as your arms become a beefy mass of ripped triceps and biceps. Bulging with just slight movements. The strength flowing through you is so unfamiliar. So different. So...

“Fuck yeah bruh.” The words leave your lips without any input from your brain. The voice deep and dumb, “Dude, it feels so fuckin’ good to be alive.” You feel as your calloused hands roam your muscles, squeezing your pecs, “Nighty, nighty.”

And you feel yourself fading. Your mind wrapped warmly in thoughts of beer, football, and videogames. God, you couldn't wait to see your team play again. To grind up against someone at the club. What a life you were going to have now. A simplistic life. Garrett’s life. Your life...

Garrett grins as you settle on one identity, “Fuck....” He moans, “If dying meant doing that again...” He chuckles, “Alright, let’s...”

He strokes his cock and finds his favorite porno. Feminine moans fill the room, and Garrett breaths hard. Stroking faster- desperate. Growing frustrated as his cock softens. Not deriving the same pleasure that he used to. His mind wandering to post-game locker room showers. And his teammates' muscular bodies. And slowly, Garrett stops stroking his dick. His eyes start to widen.

“SHIT!”

Now, as he stands around his frat bros, he can’t help but wonder how he could be gay. How could Garrett Thompson, back from the dead, only want a dick up his ass? Garrett shakes his head and sighs. He couldn’t be angry at them... fuck they were so sexy. His eyes roam and he takes in their exposed muscular arms, and cocky grins. He imagines what they might be packing down there. What it might feel like to wrap his lips around their dicks. And his cock starts to stir.

“You good, bruh?”

Garrett snaps back to reality, “Yeah, yeah...” He flips them off, “You’re lucky you’re all so cute, you fuckers.”

The other bros looked at one another, sly grins forming on their faces. After all, Garrett owed them for all the trouble they went through. Right?

[cevansbrat0007]

Bold Moves

Summary: You decide to slip Ari your panties during an innocent encounter at the public library...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Brief Discussions of Body Image, Bird Being Brave, Going Commando, Light Roleplaying, Frisking, Manhandling, Spanking, Ass Slapping, P in V Sex, Implied Overstimulation, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Decided to finish this when I came across it in my drafts. Takes place earlier in Ari and Bird's romantic relationship. Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“I’m so glad you pitched me this idea, Marisol.” You beam as you finish writing in your notebook. “I know it’s still early yet, but I would love to collaborate with you for Halloween.”

“Yes!” The younger woman cheers, throwing her arms up in the air. “I knew I picked the right woman.”

“Just I knew they picked the right woman to run the town library.” You throw her a wink before tucking your pad and pen back into your purse. “Now, I hate to cut this meeting short…” Out of habit you press a hand against your belly, silently wishing you’d opted to throw on a pair of spanx this morning instead of a flimsy pair of panties. 

Frankly, you were tired of sucking it in. But every time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you looked pretty damn good. Perhaps your confidence was growing after all. 

“But I need to get home and change so I can run by the shop before it gets too late.” You finish, feeling grateful when the sweet librarian sees fit to lead you out of her office.

“Sooo…” The dark-haired woman drags out the word, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as you both come around the corner. “Word on the street is that you’ve been seeing a lot of Detective Levinson lately. Everything good, I hope?”

 “What do you mean?” You respond, willing your pulse to remain steady. “Everything’s fine. He just…likes for me to call him whenever something new pops up about Martin. That’s all.”

And whenever you lock up in the evening. And when you make it home. And then again to decide if he’s coming to your place for the night. Or, if you’re already on the back roads heading to his. 

It was all so fun and exciting. But at the same time, it was just sex. Amazing sex, mind you. But just sex all the same.    

Instead of responding immediately, Marisol simply chooses to link her arm through yours. “Mm. While I haven’t lived here long, I’ve already learned how much this town loves gossip.” She muses. “Which is why I try to fly under the radar at all times.”

“Uh huh.” You give her a gentle nudge. “Even when it comes to a certain Officer Milton?”

“Shh! We do no not speak that man’s name in this house!”

“Why not?”

“Because I feel like he always goes out of his way to just…be around. He’s like a puppy. I do not have time for puppies, chica. I’m too busy building a career amongst the books.”

“Well sugar, I suppose you might wanna tell him that.”

“Ay, but that would involve making conversation. Something I also do not have time for because–”

“Because he’s standing over there by the door, talking to our favorite resident detective.” You interrupt with a giggle, prompting the other woman to drop your arm in a flourish before racing off back in the direction of her office before squeaking out “you never saw me” - leaving you alone. 

You allow yourself to stand there for another moment, content with watching the two men talk. While both were easy on the eyes, you were only interested in one of them. Glancing down at your outfit, you once again reassure yourself that you’re looking pretty damned good. 

And then – just that fast – an idea strikes you.

Refusing to overthink what it was you were about to do, you discreetly make your way into the ladies room. After checking to make sure you were alone, you slip into a stall. Reaching underneath your skirt, you slide your lacy black panties down your thighs before stepping out of them. 

Biting your lip, you tuck the small scrap of fabric into your pocket. Once you’re finished, you go to leave. But not before stopping long enough to refresh your lip gloss and fluff your curls. And then you’re out the door.

Hopefully you’d be able to catch the handsome bounty hunter before he left.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to find him. He’s right where you saw him last – near the front of the library still talking to Milton. As you near the two, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll be able to pull this off without making an absolute fool of yourself. 

But first you’d have to find a way to get rid of Officer Milton without making your intentions obvious. And then it hits you. While it might be wrong, it was officially time to pawn him off on your favorite new friend.

Marisol.

“Good afternoon, Officer Milton.” You chirp as you sidle forward, politely interrupting their conversation. “Detective Levinson.” Of course you’re immediately met with smiles from both men. 

“Well get a load a’ you.” Milton gives a playful whistle once he gets a good look at your business attire. “Lookin’ sharp, darlin. Goin’ somewhere special?”

“Actually, I just came from a meeting down at the bank.” You tell them, smoothing your hands along your gray pencil skirt. 

“Ahh.” The officer nods. “Fingers crossed all went well.”

“It did. Thank you.” Delicately clearing your throat, you make a show of glancing around before directing your complete attention to the young officer in front of you. “While I hate to interrupt you two when you’re hard at work, I think Marisol might need you.”

“She does?” The man immediately perks up, vaguely reminding you of your neighbor’s golden retriever. 

“Yep.” You wince inwardly, hating yourself for lying. “Not sure what it’s about, but I think she’s somewhere in the back.” 

Just like that, a switch has been flipped and Officer Milton is off on the hunt for a sweet little librarian who most certainly did not need him. Fingers crossed she would catch the hint and just go with it. 

And now you’re alone with the one man with the power to leave you breathless. You were constantly left tied up in knots around this man. But today it was finally time you turned the tables on this guy. 

“How’s the manhunt going, Detective? Any new leads?”

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss this part of my investigation with you, Miss.” He says, flashing you a rather charming smile. “But if you hear from our guy Martin anytime soon, be sure to give me a call.”

“Of course.” You nod, feeling your cheeks heat. “Well, I’d best be goin’ now.”

“Be safe gettin’ home.” 

“Same to you. Detective.”

And then, without sparing him so much as a warning glance, you discreetly remove your panties from their hiding spot and slip them into the back pocket of his jeans. To his credit, Ari doesn’t move a muscle. Instead he continues to stare straight ahead, his gaze never wavering.  

Head held high, you manage to make it all the way to your car before collapsing in a fit of nervous laughter. While you wished you could’ve seen his face, you know deep down that you were better off running off the way you had.  

Maybe he’d call you tonight and maybe he wouldn’t. But all that mattered is that you’d mustered up enough confidence to make some bold moves this afternoon, which by all accounts made you a bad bitch.

Later That Same Evening…

It’s been hours since you pulled that stunt with Ari, but as luck would have it, you still had yet to hear from him. Not that you were worried or anything. In fact, if you had to choose an emotion, you were more disappointed than anything else.

While you’d long since abandoned your high heels by your front door, you were still wearing the outfit you’d worn to the bank. You’d simply been too excited to go by the shop so you’d decided to remain closed for the day.

Heaving a sigh as you rise from the couch, you’re in the middle of debating whether or not it’s worth trying to cobble together something for dinner when you hear the sound of your doorbell. Confused, you go to reach for your phone, only to frown when you see there’s nothing from the one man you wanted to hear from most.

The bell chimes again, prompting you to get a move on. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” You mumble, stretching your arms above your head. Opening the door, you’re treated to the sight of a large man standing on your porch with his hands in his pocket, his official badge prominently displayed on his hip. 

Hello, Detective Ari Levinson. 

“Evening, Miss. Apologies for bothering you so late.” 

“Why hello, Detective. Somethin’ I can help you with?” You do your best to keep your tone light while you wait for him to explain himself.

“Sure hope so. Got a report about someone engaging in some inappropriate behavior.” He informs you, barely concealing his smirk as he leans his big body against the porch railing.

“Is that right?”

“Fraid so.” He nods solemnly. “In fact, I actually found a trail of evidence that led me right here to your front door.”

“I…well, there has to be some mistake.” You protest, your hand flying to your chest. 

“Huh.” Ari sucks on his teeth as he reaches into his pocket to retrieve a small scrap of lacy black fabric. “Then you wouldn’t happen to know who these belong to, would you?”

Your eyes go wide at the sight of your panties dangling from one thick index finger. 

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, but they’re certainly not mine.” You sniff haughtily. “I’ve never seen those before in my life.”

“Now, Miss.” He gently chastises, taking another step towards you, invading your space. “Perhaps I should warn you that it’s a crime to lie to a member of law enforcement.” Instead of responding you simply fold your arms across your heaving bosom. 

The nerve of this man, thinking he had the right to question you like this right out in the open. Honestly, what would your neighbors think? The scandal!

“You know what? I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna need to search the premises.” The bounty hunter moves to enter your home, only to growl when your hand stops him short. “It’s also a felony to impede an official investigation.” Ari grunts, his brow furrowing in annoyance.

“And I'm thinkin’ I'm gonna need to see a warrant first, Detective.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his eyes darken - his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. 

“I’m sure a good girl like you ain’t got nothin’ to hide.” Ari rasps, leaning in so that his mouth now hovers a mere inch above your ear. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” You respond, sounding a little more breathless than you’d like.

“Unless there’s something in there you don’t want me to find?”

“I don’t have anything to hide.” Blowing out a breath you decide to give the man what he wants, if only to see what comes next

“Not sure I believe you, sweetheart.”

“Fine.” You concede. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you come in for a quick look. But you’ve gotta be fast.” You tell him, poking him in the shoulder before turning to lead him into your home. “Because I’m expecting company any minute and we don’t need an audience.”

“We’ll see.”

Your pulse kicks up when you hear Ari shut the door behind you, followed by the quiet snick of the lock. Guess that meant he thought he was staying awhile. Just as you open your mouth to protest, you’re caught off guard when he brushes by you, allowing you to catch a hint of his cologne. 

“I’m not sure what you’re on, Detective.” You say, shooting him your fiercest glare. Meanwhile, this man responds with his most lethal grin. “But I’m giving you five minutes to figure it out before I–” 

“You know, Miss, I didn’t wanna ask you this outside. Especially given the already delicate nature of this investigation. But do you happen to be wearing any panties?”

“Excuse me?!” His question has your mouth falling open, your cheeks burning hot with outrage.

“Answer the question.” His eyes track your every movement as you slowly back away in the direction of the stairs. “Because every good girl I know puts on a pair of panties before leaving the house for the day.”

“Goodnight, Detective Levinson.” You hiss before turning and taking the stairs two by two. “Please see yourself out before I’m forced to call your supervisor.”

Your words are met with silence. And it’s not until you reach the edge of your bedroom that you hear him moving – up the same stairs you’d just scaled only seconds before. You can hardly suppress a shiver as the heady thrum of anticipation courses through you. 

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart.” Ari growls softly as his impressive form fills your doorway, effectively blocking your only exit. “But I’m not through with my investigation.” It’s a struggle to ignore just how good he looks taking up space in your bedroom like this. 

“I want you to leave.”

“Oh, I will. As soon as I’m finished.” He takes a step towards you, rolling up his sleeves as he does. “But first, I’m gonna need you to turn and place your hands on the wall.”

“I–I will do no such thing!” Comes your almost breathless reply. “I’m not a criminal.”

“Hm.” Ari cocks his head, his magnetic blue eyes leering at your much smaller, curvier frame. “But you are a suspect.” In less than a fraction of a second, this man is now standing in front of you. “And it would be rather reckless of me if I didn’t pat you down.” One large hand curls itself around your bicep before gently leading to a nearby wall. “You should know that I’m a bit of a stickler when it comes to following protocol.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you place both of your hands on the cool surface. Taking a deep breath, you can’t help but jump when he kicks your feet apart, forcing you to spread your legs even wider, granting him better access.

“I’m gonna report you.” Unfortunately for you, your flimsy threat does nothing to deter him.

Your eyes fall shut when you feel two large, warm hands glide their way up and down your arms. It feels as tempting as it does comforting. He repeats the action twice more, almost as if he’s trying to lull you into a false sense of security. 

Next, those wandering hands are stroking along your sides, greedily following the path of your curves. And then you feel him bury his nose in the crook of your neck. It’s impossible to miss his soft groan as he inhales your sweet scent.

“Now I’ve gotta ask you, little Bird.” He hums, his sharp teeth nipping at your ear. “Do you have anything on you that could stab, stick, or poke me?” 

“N-no.” 

God, you were so fucking wet right now it’s embarrassing. And you can’t stop the moan that catches in your throat when his sensual ministrations move to your breasts – cupping, massaging, and kneading. He lewdly palms them through your blouse, this thumps paying extra attention to your hardened nipples. Your back arches of its own accord as he continues to play with your body.

And there’s a part of you that hates yourself for the way he makes you respond.  

“Hm. So far so good, baby. Proud of you for keeping your hands where I can see ‘em.” Now his hands are skimming down your hips to toy with the hem of your skirt. His warm breath dances along your sensitive skin, making you shiver. “But now it’s time for the big question.” Ari begins inching your skirt higher and higher. “And don’t you dare lie to me. Are you–”

“This ain’t right, Detective!” You protest, protectively clenching your thighs together. However, your words only make him chuckle. “Pretty sure this is an illegal search and seizure.”

“As a member of law enforcement, I would have to respectfully disagree with you.” He says at the same time as he grinds himself against you, his massive erection pressing into your lower back. “It’s my job to keep the community safe. And to deal with naughty girls who go around handing out their unmentionables to strangers.” Your skirt inches even higher now, stopping just short of revealing your dripping cunt. 

“And what do you know?” He purrs, holding you still as his hand dips between your thighs, cupping your most intimate flesh. “Looks like we’ve got a little liar on our hands. Don’t we?”

“Don’t. We.” The renewed authority in his tone makes your pussy quiver.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And how should we handle liars, sweetheart? Hm?” Your knees go weak when you feel two thick fingers spear their way through your messy folds, lightly strumming over your clit. “What should we do with you?”

“....I…don’t know….”

His deep chuckle has you squirming in his hold, your hips bucking as he continues to grind the heel of his palm against your sensitive nub.  

���Tell you what. You and I are about to have a serious conversation about what happens to pretty young ladies who can’t seem to tell the truth. Even when it’s in their best interest. What do ya say?”

“Y–yes, Sir.” You moan as your eyes threaten to roll back in your head, sparks of pleasure dancing behind your eyes. “Whatever you want – I’ll be so, sooo good!”

Thirty Minutes Later…

“Why the fuck you keep runnin’, baby?” Ari growls, smacking your bottom hard. “Yeah, get that juicy ass back here. Love watchin’ those cheeks bounce.”

The rhythmic sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, spilling out into the hall as Ari drives into you over and over again with his impressive cock. 

He’d been hard for hours before he ever showed up on your doorstep. Frankly, he’d lost count of how many times he’d paused throughout the day to bring your panties to his nose. It was like he couldn’t seem to get enough of how good you smelled. But he also knew that wouldn’t be enough.

He needed to taste you. Needed your unique, earthy flavor on his tongue. 

Thankfully, he had no doubt that he’d have time to eat the fuck out of your sweet pussy later. After he was finished fucking you into oblivion for being such bad girl. Who would’ve guessed his little Bird had it in her to be so deliciously naughty?

Meanwhile, you’re too busy sobbing into a pillow to be proud of yourself right now, your hands fisting the sheets while your man exacts his revenge on your body. At this rate, you’d already cum twice. And here you were already roaring along to orgasm number three. 

Fuck, this man was a goddamned menace!

Your desperate cries grow louder as Ari picks up his pace, forcing you to clench around him as you finally resort to begging.

“Please, Ari!” You wail when he lifts your hips higher before adjusting the angle of his strokes. “I–ooh God–M’so close!”

“Oh yeah?” He snarls, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. “Then let me see you work for it.” A sharp hiss escapes when his heavy palm comes down on your ass again, this time smacking both cheeks without so much as missing a beat. “This is how bad girls get punished.” You tense when he delivers yet another blow. “They’ve gotta work for their pleasure.”

“I’m sorry–wooh God!” Your voice comes out raw, bordering on hoarse.       

“That’s it, baby. Yeah, there we go.” He gifts you with another slap, earning a sharp yelp from you. “Yeah, throw it back like you love it.”

After an afternoon of being bad, there’s nothing you want more than to be good for this man. You wanted to please him. Make him happy. If only so he never stopped touching you. And you were trying – honest to God, you were.

But it was all too good. Too much. 

“Just know, everytime you run, I’m gonna drag that sweet ass right back.” Ari renews his punishing grip on your hips, holding you up even as your sweat slicked body starts to give out. “Now cum for me one more time so I can finally stop takin’ it easy on you, pretty Bird.”

END

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[moonstruckme]

I’m begging for emt marauders where r dislocated her shoulder a stupid way and so r goes to another hospital to avoid them but then they show up bc their hospital is was on a bypass and see r

Thanks for requesting!

cw: shoulder injury no description

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 814 words

It’s dark, and despite the cloak of poor lighting and the distance between you, you lock eyes with James from across the parking lot. His brows furrow and he nearly drops the gurney he’s lowering out of his ambulance, Sirius hopping down to help. You see his lips form your name. 

Sirius’ head snaps up. 

There’s nowhere to hide. You shoot them a sheepish smile, your footsteps stalling before you remember to get out of the crosswalk. Remus’ head appears a moment later, peering out of the back of the ambulance. He helps James lower their patient onto the pavement, the both of them shooting worried glances at you as they wheel him inside and Sirius takes off towards you. 

“What the fuck?” he calls as he jogs over. Your boyfriend’s dark hair is tied back in a short ponytail, and it gleams under the fluorescent lights outside the hospital. He looks from your face, to where you’re holding your arm tight to your side, and back again. “What are you doing here?” 

“I, um, didn’t think I’d see you.” It’s out before you can think it through, but in all fairness you’re having a bit of a strenuous evening. 

Sirius’ eyebrows raise. “That’s not what I asked. Sweetheart, what did you do to yourself?” 

You rub your lips together, feeling suddenly very sorry for yourself. Your shoulder really does hurt a lot. “I think I might’ve dislocated my shoulder?” 

“How’d you manage that?”

You hesitate. “Don’t laugh.” 

“Don’t laugh about what?” James asks as he joins you. Remus isn’t far behind. James peers at your arm, looking about as sorry for you as you are. “Are you hurt?” 

“She thinks she’d dislocated it,” Sirius informs him. 

“What were you doing?” Remus moves to your side, setting a comforting hand on your back as he touches near it gingerly. You hiss through your teeth and he stops. 

“You guys can’t laugh at me,” you insist. 

“Well, now I think I might not be able to help myself.” Sirius is smiling at you slightly, though his brows are still bunched with sympathy. “Come on, out with it.” 

You chew your bottom lip. Remus’ eyebrow lifts expectantly. “Okay,” you breathe out, “um, you know how I’ve been going out to rollerskate lately?” 

Remus’ expression clouds over. “I told you that was dangerous,” he says. “Were you wearing your pads?”

“Angel, this late?” James appears scandalized. “It’s been dark for hours!” 

You feel your face heat, growing more sheepish by the second. Sirius gives you a stern look. “Go on,” he says. 

“There was decent lighting and everything, but I accidentally started going down this hill, and I was going, um, really quite fast.” All three of your boyfriends tense in anticipation. “So I threw myself into the grass and I think I landed on my shoulder wrong.” 

Sirius gives a little chuckle, ignoring your glare. “You think?”

“Okay, I’ll admit,” says Remus, “that is a slightly funny image. But it’s less funny that you actually got hurt, dove. Did you come all the way out here just to avoid running into us?” 

You’re too surprised to hide your wince. Trust Remus to have you completely pegged without so much as a conversation. 

James’ lips part at your reaction. “Did you really?” 

“What are you even doing here?” you ask, shamefaced. 

Sirius crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at you. “Our hospital’s on bypass,” he answers. 

You shrink further under the intensity of his gaze. 

“Angel,” James sighs. He steps closer and cups the back of your head, resting his lips heavily on your hairline. “Well, there’s no avoiding us now,” he says, straightening. “We haven’t taken our breaks yet, want us to sit with you while they get you sorted?” 

“Yes, please,” you reply in a small voice. 

Remus makes a compassionate sound in his throat, encouraging you towards the entrance with his hand on your back. “We’d better get you in, then. Hopefully we’ll be able to expedite things with the three of us here.” 

You start to relax, two of your boyfriends seemingly haven forgiven your secrecy. You chance a look at the third, still watching you with a stern expression as you walk towards the hospital doors. He catches your look and flicks up a brow. 

“You’d better still tell me I’m handsome when my hair is all gray,” he says, in the kind of severe tone that makes you doubt whether he’s teasing. “It’s already starting at the roots, and you’re entirely to blame.” 

You quell the urge to smile. “You’ll always be handsome,” you tell him sincerely. 

“That’s the attitude.” Sirius walks backwards in front of you, pecking you firmly on the lips before falling back into step beside you. “Keep rehearsing those lines, sweetheart. I’ll be needing to hear them more often if you keep up with this rollerskating bullshit.” 

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Chapter Two (of four)

masterpost

Was this guy for real? Jason nearly decided not to get in out of suspicion. Danny was one of the very few loose ends in his crime yesterday. He sort of figured that eventually Batman would find the driver he’d used to get a duffle bag of heads to the police station. He stalled. It had seemed like an acceptable risk, since he hadn’t shown the guy his face. The only information that the police should have been able to get was where he’d left and that he’d used one of his victim’s phones to call for a ride.

And yet Danny was waiting patiently at the curb for the Red Hood to get in. Wasn’t he scared?

He had been all over the news yesterday. Danny had to know.

‘Either he’s dumb as a box or he is one of the chillest people I’ve ever even heard of.’

Morbid curiosity got him into the car. Danny locked the door as soon as the door was shut– but it was clearly routine. He’d done that yesterday, right. Jason waited a moment before he remembered that Danny wasn’t going to pull out until he had his seatbelt on. He let out a laugh and buckled up. It was pretty cute, actually.

Now that he wasn’t so distracted, maybe he could make small talk. Danny pulled them out into the sparse early morning traffic with an expression of determined focus.

Jason cleared his throat. “You moved to Gotham recently?” he started with. Danny didn’t have the local speaking pattern.

Danny nodded. “For school,” he shared easily. “I’m in the sciences program at Gotham U’s south campus.”

…So he wasn’t the world’s biggest dummy. Jason sat there and contemplated how catastrophically chill a body would have to be to chit chat with a man who had killed like 20 people yesterday that he knew of. Why wasn’t Danny scared? What was his damage? 

‘There’s something really wrong with him,’ Jason thought, with no small bit of admiration. Way too late he commented, “That’s cool, man.”

“Thanks.” Danny seemed unbothered by his long delay in conversation. “You know, I had to go to that same police station this morning.”

Jason tensed. Was Danny making some kind of threat?

“They got a whole shitton of muffins and six quiches delivered,” Danny went on. He appeared to feel no sense of danger in the car.

‘Is he… Did he decide to inform on the police to me?’ Jason’s eye twitched. ‘I already knew that I’d have ruined their whole month but… This is kinda satisfying to hear, actually.’ He made a listening sound to prompt Danny to continue. He couldn't lie; he was intrigued.

“Yeah, they looked like total shit.” Danny was so blithe about it that it became surreal and hilarious. “Exhausted. But that’s not my business.” He crinkled up his nose. “Do you know what they tipped me for that?” He didn’t wait for Jason to go on. “Two dollars.” He made a big gesture with his left hand that took it off the steering wheel despite the fact they were mid turn. “That’s ridiculous! I drove halfway across town, waited for the place to open, carried an absurd amount up those stairs, and for two dollars.” He blew a disrespectful raspberry.

“Fuck the police,” Jason said sympathetically. 

Aight. He saw how it was. He mentally tabulated what was in his wallet and allocated a cool thirty dollars to Danny as a tip. For an informant, that was as cheap as bagged rice. Helluva value. He leaned back in the seat and it squeaked under his weight. “How’s Gotham been treating you?”

“Fine, fine,” Danny said absently. He switched lanes a little too abruptly. “Not that different from home, honestly. I don’t know why people are so dramatic about it.” He floored it to squeak through a yellow light.

Jason had the dawning suspicion that Danny had been on his best driving behavior yesterday. But- “Where is home?” It was more morbid curiosity. He kind of regretted that he was nearly to his stop. 

“Amity Park. Illinois.”

Jason winced. “My condolences.”

Danny laughed, high and sort of eerie now that Jason was really listening to it. It sent an  electric zing up his spine. “That’s what they always say.” He seemed to find it really funny. Way funnier than it should have been.

‘...What are the odds that this guy is one of the weird mutants they make in Amity?’ Jason resisted the urge to ask prying questions. Talia had told him to stay the fuck out of that area so that she didn’t have to rescue him from a government black site. It wasn’t his business and he didn’t have the luxury of the time to go and investigate every cute boy with a nice laugh who wanted to be an informant to the Red Hood.

It was with extreme regret that Jason recognized his stop coming up. He let out a sigh. The voice scramblers in his hood turned it to static. He watched the curb approach with disappointment. Danny made to pull in next to a dark shop. Jason glanced into the windows and caught the reflection of the last person he wanted to see. 

“Batmobile.” He sat up straight, alarmed. It was parked out of sight in an alley. Shit. Shit, of course Batman had tracked back the delivery driver that had brought him to the police building. Fuck. How was he going to get away on foot-

Danny jerked back into the street and hit the pedal to the floor. The engine made a scream of machine fear but holy hell did it accelerate. Jason yelled too and grabbed onto the door handle. He aimed wide eyes at Danny, uncomprehending. 

“Fuck Batman!” Danny yelled out his open window, and they were off.

Holy shit. Holy shit!

The batmobile turned on, the normally silent engine’s purr rearing up to a threatening growl as Bruce veered out onto the street in pursuit.

Danny took them down an alley and Jason sharply readjusted his assessment of Danny’s intelligence. “We can’t fit!” He yelled, trying to pull the brake. If they had to stop in the alley it was all over, Batman would block them off.

Danny slapped his hand away and barreled-

Jason blinked as they raced down the impossibly narrow alleyway. He bit his lip. He looked at the car again, recalculating.

No. No, it definitely didn’t fit. He leaned a little away from the window, extremely uncomfortable. He looked at just the right time to see the passenger mirror collide with a dumpster and slide through undeterred.

Ah. Alright, then. He made a “Fair enough” face and turned around to see that the batmobile was lifting up and doing some weird transformers bullshit to fit down the alleyway. They were gaining ground from Batman. “Sorry I tried to touch the controls,” Jason said, a bit late. He glanced down and realized that his hand stung where Danny had slapped it. He pulled it to his chest and rubbed at it, frowning slightly.

“No worries,” Danny said tersely. He hit the breaks and raked the wheel car to make a fucking pinpoint turn without slowing. Just like that, they were out of Batman’s direct line of sight. A solid inch of the inside of the car overlapped with a folding chair outside someone’s home.

Jason eyed Danny judgmentally.

“Wow, that was a close fit,” Danny said, extremely unconvincing. “We are lucky, huh.” He aimed the car at a wall and somehow ramped up. 

‘I think I might be sick.’

Jason decided that the best thing for him to do right now was to close his eyes and say nothing at all. If Danny wanted plausible deniability for his mutant powers, that was whatever. 

‘How did Batman know where I was going?’ He worked through the problem. ‘Did he hack Danny’s account? If not, someone sold me out.’

Just like that, Jason had a list of people to visit for the day. “D’you think you could drop me off at C street instead?” He felt the uncomfortable swooping sensation in his stomach that indicated they’d made some kind of move that should not exist off of a rollercoaster.

“Yeah, of course, sorry about this.” Danny sounded a little breathless. “Ah- don’t look.” He cackled.

…’He’s dodging Batman for his benefit, not mine,’ the penny dropped. Jason laughed out loud and then leaned forward to hold his head in his hands. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Danny was the perfect man. They drove for a while in silence before Jason managed to collect himself. “No worries,” he said through tears. “Hey, no sweat if it’s no, but can I get your number?”

Danny paused.

Oh, fuck. Jason cringed. “I'll leave mine and you can call me if you ever need me,” he corrected hastily. “No pressure.” He scribbled it on the back of a loose receipt in Danny's cupholder and left it, mortified but also glad he shot his shot.

[wild-jackalope]

summary :: Yuji decides to take his friends lack of sex life into his own hands (quite literally).

warning :: Normal AU, Yuji is extremely forward (highkey yandere), fingering, hand job, public sex, jealousy, also fighting.

note :: collage/univeristy AU. Reader and Yuji are in their second years of studying. This took way longer than what I thought it would.

“Who’re you texting?” Yuji asked.

“Nobody.” You giggled.

“C’mon, tell me.”

“This guy.” You grinned, tapping away at your phone. “He’s taking me out tonight.”

“Oh yeah, where’s he taking you?” Yuji asked, hands hidden deep in his pockets, peaking over your shoulder at the phone in your hands.

“Stop looking Yuji.” You twisted your body away from him, but he followed you.

“Come on, I should know where you’re going. What if this guy is a total jerk?”

“He won’t be,” You sigh, shaking your head. “He might even be the one.” You simply state. Though, ‘the one to take you to bed’ might’ve been a better description.

“You seriously think that?” Yuji’s tone goes limp, but his face still hangs a smile.

“You know that fancy place next to KFC? On the main road?” He nodded. “We’re going to be eating there.”

“That’s crazy, ‘cause I’m going to that KFC with Choso tonight.” He turned from your gaze. A telltale sign of fibbing that caused you to lift your brow.

“That so?” You asked, elbowing his side. He shrugged then nodded, his lips threatening to grin. “I can take care of myself, you know.” You added.

“You think so?” He jested, however the comment struck a heart string.

“Yes. Don’t you?” You carefully questioned.

He choked on your serious tone. “I, I guess. Well, maybe? You’re not super strong.”

“But I’m not a baby. I’m not helpless.”

He seemed to find that implication funny, because he laughed. “Is that why you call me when you’re scared to walk home in the dark?”

“Yuji that’s— that’s different. I’ve been talking to this guy, I know him.”

Seemingly confused by how this conversation lead to you being offended but not willing to back down he commented again. “Then why have I never heard about him?”

“You’ve never heard of him because I don’t like telling you about this stuff.” You added, softer, retracting your lips into a thin line when you saw how it made Yuji’s eyes narrow.

“Why not?” He asked, now taking offence himself.

“Because you mess things up for me.” You broke contact with his eyes, darting down to his shoes. “I don’t like being upset with you, Itadori, let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“Don’t call me by my last name.” He stated. You hiccuped at his harshness. "I just don't want you to waste your time on trash men."

Yuji had, without a doubt, been a stain on your dating life and by proxy, your sex life. Most commonly, he’d stall you to make you unfashionably late to a date. Other times he’d ask you to cancel them and spend time with him instead. Most recently he’d made the impression that you two were already a couple to a boy that pucked up the courage to tell you, you were cute.

It felt like you were being suffocated by his attention, and starved of other men’s.

“I need to leave soon, Yuji, let’s finish hanging out and not let this ruin our fun.”

Despite his unusual clinginess, you hated to fight with him.

“You know Itadori has the hots for you, right?” Nobara grimaced.

You laughed. “Don’t be stupid. He’s literally my bestie.”

“Just because you feel that way, doesn’t mean he does.” She warned. "Don't you see the way he clings to you? The way he hates when you hang around me or Megumi?"

"I guess. He's just like that though."

"He's like that for you, girl."

"But I feel that way about him, too. I don't love it when he spends all his time with his brother, or watching movies. I prefer when we hang out." Nobara stared at you with narrow eyes and an expression that could only be described as her trying to figure out if you were dumb, or just blissfully ignorant. Or both. "When you're super close with someone, that's just the way it is."

"Sure, girl. Sure."

To say Yuji was your friend would be an understatement. Best friend wasn’t quite right either. If there was another a higher title, it would belong to him. He was the first to call when you had some tea to spill, first to text when you didn’t know what to wear out, your go to man in an emergency.

To Yuji, the term best friend didn’t even come close to describing how he felt about you. You were his everything.

Later in the day, his phone pinged, you'd posted something. It was an image of you in a glimmering dress on your Instagram story. The hem ended just above your knees, and clung to your body like wet fabric.

The sight was utterly cloying, though his heart squeezed painfully to know you were dressed that way for a man he didn’t even know. He screenshotted the image, adding it to his photos.

What Yuji hadn't thought to consider, was the lace set hiding beneath the dress. You were hoping for the best. That was all.

Upon arriving to your date, you were greeted with an aloof ‘hello’, a small peak into how the rest of your date would continue.

Yuji hadn’t managed to convince his brother to join in stalking your date. Suggesting that he leave you to your date and that he shouldn’t get involved in your love life, citing that it’ll messy your friendship.

He promptly ignored Choso’s advice.

So, Yuji sat next door to your restaurant chewing on some hot chips with an unimpressed look on his face. He opened his photos, gazing at you in your dress. He swallowed thickly, forcing his phone down. He just wanted to be sure you were okay. That was it. He wouldn't get in the way. He'd rather see you with someone else, than be mad at him.

His churning gut seemed to disagree with that thought, though.

After being seated at a booth, you smiled kindly at your date. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” He answered curtly. You grimaced. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to suggest a last minute date to a guy you’d only been texting for a day (yes, you'd lied to Yuji about know him). But God you just wanted to get laid.

“What did you get up to?”

“Nothing much.”

This was going nowhere.

It had taken an hour before you’d finally given up on making conversation. You ate, spent some minutes in the bathroom to kill time, paid and left. How embarrassing, you'd come all this way and put so much effort into how you looked only to be blown off. It made you wish you'd been kinder to Yuji.

You picked up your phone, and sent a text to him.

‘Hey, did you end up eating next door? I’m finished with my date.’

‘I did yeah. How’d it go?’ He responded.

‘Average.’

Yuji’s chest filled. He'd been blessed with a second chance and now was his moment to swoop in and cheer you up.

You sat outside, the night air whipping at your exposed skin. You hadn’t prepared for the cold. A cardigan would’ve ruined your look, after all. You assured yourself before leaving that you’d be in a warm restaurant for half the night, then be spending the rest in his or your bed. There was no need to layer up.

Yuji spotted you, calling your name before taking a seat on the bench you sat at. “Hey, how’d you go?” He beamed. His brightness felt like a layer of warmth around your skin.

“Hey Yuji.” You sighed, finding his smile contagiously reaching your lips.

“Where’s the guy? Didn’t he wait for you?” He looked over the streets, glazing over the lack of strangers around.

“Nope.”

“What an asshole.” He pat your knee, leaving his hand there as a supportive contact.

"You can say it now." You murmured into the palm of your hands.

"Say what?"

"I told you so."

He chuckled, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “Don’t let it get you down. Yeah? His loss.”

“I know. I know.” You nodded, tiredly. “He’s not worth my time. I just- ugh.” You rubbed your eyes tiredly, not caring to maintain your eye makeup any longer.

“You’re really upset, aren’t you?” He asked, the hand resting on your knee clenched.

“Not for the reason you think, Yuji…” You shamefully murmured.

“So he wasn’t the one?”

“Of course not. I just… wanted to be with someone tonight.” You exhaled, letting the confession rise off your chest.

“You can be with me.” He added, a cheerful sombreness to his tone. “We’ll hang out.”

“Not like that, Yuji.” You cleared your throat. “I- uh. Never mind.”

“What?” He pressed, searching for the confession in your eyes. The hand cradling your knee edged inward to the softer side of your thigh, the movement went unnoticed by you.

“I’m- well.” You exhaled. The two of you were best friends, you could be honest with him. “I’m horny, Yuji. I haven't been able to get laid in forever because- well.” You reframed, now wasn’t the time to bring up an old argument. “I wanted to fool around with this guy.” You finished.

“We can do that too.” He cut, quickly. His hand fell further, you noticed only because it made you burn.

“What?” You shifted, but his hand still remained.

“That guy wouldn’t have gotten the job done. He was probably a loser.”

“Yuji- what did you just say?”

“If you just want to feel good, I can help.” Again his hand inched inward, now flirting with the hem of your dress. Your legs flinched open, the quick reflex tightened Yuji’s chest and his pants.

“Itadori…” You warned, though it passed your lips as a weak willed relent.

“Don’t call me by my last name.” He’d come so close now, breath patting your nape.

"We're in public." You huffed, eyeing his thick, tanned hand. His fingers cratered against your skin, kneading the flesh with a stunted hunger. He was attempting to be smooth, but he'd yearned for this too long.

"Nobody is around. Its dark. You said you're horny, didn't you? I can help. Let me help." He trailed further.

Yuji made contact to your clothed sex. His pinky finger pressed into you cautiously. You’d immediately lost all reserve. Your pussy grabbed at your brain, shoving away the regretful thoughts and forcing your legs to open wider.

With nothing but your body’s reaction to guide him, Yuji’s fingers began to rub up and down your cunt outline, focusing on the bump that was your clit.

“How does that feel?” He asked quietly.

“Weird.” You uttered, grasping at your own thighs, struggling to keep your legs open to him.

“Why?” He leaned closer.

“You’re my friend, Yuji.” You looked anywhere but at the boy.

“Why should that matter?”

You fumbled an answer. “Because friends don’t do this.”

“Some do.”

“But not us…” You drawled.

Yuji ignored you and nosed your cheek, closing in on your lips. By this point, he leaned so close that you had no room to back away.

His tongue licked your bottom lip and you grunted at the thought of it being further south. He swallowed the sound, having his free hand cradle your neck and pull you into him.

With a shameless passion, Yuji overran your mouth. His hand stunted at your pussy, his thoughts wrongly focused on your locked lips. You whined and he devoured that sound from you too.

“Yuji,” You pushed against his hard chest.

“Sorry.” He licked his lips, wiping away your shared saliva that lingered on the back of his sleeve. He gazed at the area covered by your dress. “Can I see?” He asked. Unsureness flashed in your gaze. "Please?"

You’d become completely obsequious to his advances. “Just for a second.” Anything to get him to start palming you again.

Yuji leaned, pulling up your dress and revealing the sight he’d only dreamed of. He moaned. You gaped, now keenly aware of your surroundings.

“Fuckin’ hot.” He murmured. The words made you gush.

Now his eyes couldn’t be ripped from your underwear, mentally taking screenshots to save for himself. He’d never need to watch porn again.

Another thought crossed his mind and his brow furrowed. He sat up, coming dangerously close to your face.

“You were going to let another guy see you like this?” His palm pressed hard against your clit. You twitched.

“You’re acting like I cheated on you, Yuji…” You wearily commented.

Shit, he’d almost ruined it.

He kissed your neck, running his tongue cross your pulse. It hadn’t completely distract you from his possessive question. “Maybe we should stop.” You whispered.

emphatically, his hand pushed past the fabric of your underwear. His index and middle finger parted around your clit, drawing this thick fingers down with your nerve bundle sandwiched between.

“Yuji!” You breathed, hands shooting to grasp his forearm.

“Shouldn’t say things if you don’t want them.” He murmured. His fingers dove to your entrance, pulling slick up and around your clit, rubbing the juices into your skin. “You want this, don’t you? Want me?”

You avoided the answer and his hand halted.

“Say you want me.” He uttered coolly.

Your hips stuttered, but Yuji didn’t budge. Holding you at orgasmic gunpoint, your lips parted. “I want you, Yuji.”

He continued with a new found passion, drawing his fingers up and down your clit with a kind pace, no longer tantalising you.

His lips pressed against your jaw and cheek until they found your mouth. He tongued you once more, loving the way you opened yourself to him and how he utterly devoured you. You couldn’t keep up with his passion.

Your legs clamped, but he pulled you open again with one hand, continuing to slide between your clit and eating the moans it ripped from you.

The orgasm hit you quickly, faltering fast through your legs and feet. You groaned into Yuji’s mouth, body going limp. His hand quickened, adding pressure to your suddenly raw clit. Your hips retracted.

“I came! I came.” You broke, tapping on his forearm. He halted, wide eyes gazing at your post-orgasm state. He wished he could’ve recorded every second of him making you cum.

You pushed against his forearm and, regretfully, he pulled his hand away from your sex. You watched with wide eyes as he brought his pruned fingers to his mouth and licked at the slick covering them.

You were too staggered to utter a word.

“Do you feel better now?” He asked.

“I, uhm, yeah.” You nodded, staring at the ground with glazed eyes. You'd just cum on the hand of your closest friend.

“Good.” He added.

“Yeah.”

Awkward tension stabbed at the both of you. As if knowing your thoughts would start to circle around regret, Yuji continued to speak. “I’ll drive you back to my dorm, we can hang out now that you're done with your date.”

“Okay, yeah. Sure.” You spoke breathlessly.

The ride home was ear ringingly silent.

Yuji couldn't find an excuse to talk and you were too booked out with the thoughts racing your mind to respond with anything but a 'mhm.'

Nobara was right. Yuji wasn't the type to help a friend get off just because, right? He must've liked you or at the very least lusted after you. Were you okay with either of those options?

Inside his dorm room, you planted yourself on his floor, mind still wrecked. He eased next to you, finding the words to break the glass-like silence.

Worry creased his face. He came onto you too soon, too fast. "Do you want to pl-"

"So do you like me?" You asked, eyes wide with tension.

"Yeah." He grinned shyly. "Wasn't that obvious?"

Yes. It was. It fucking was. You were just as blind as a deaf bat with cataracts.

"Do you... like me too?"

"I, I don't know." You threw your head back and grunted. "Shit."

"Don't stress, it's fine."

"Not really." You couldn't stop thinking about the fact he made you cum less than an hour ago and you didn't know if you liked him? You loved him, sure, but did you love him? He was handsome, funny, good with hands apparently. "How long?" You asked.

"A while." He scratched the back of his neck. "A long while, actually."

You were surely going to hell. Here your friend was, spilling his heart out to you and all you could think about was having his hands touch more of you. You couldn't help but eye his crotch, was he still hard from before? You couldn't tell.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked. Your eyes darted to his face.

"Well," You fiddled with your index finger. "You never got off, so I feel bad."

His cheeks flushed. "Me? No, that's fine. We should talk. Don't worry about that."

"Okay," Your hand slipped to his hip, resting on his side. "Keep talking, then." Hell for sure.

"Well I, uh, I always thought you were pretty," Your fingers skimmed over the elastic of his pants. "And hot." He added, eyes lidding.

"Does anyone else know?" You asked.

"Probably." He sucked in through his teeth as your hand began to retreat. "I mean, Fushiguro is pretty perceptive. I think Choso knows too."

You traced his v-line with your fingernail. He'd already gone hard.

"kugisaki, probably. Are you-?"

"Just keep talking. I'm listening."

"I… I realised maybe a year ago." You slipped a finger under his pants. "You started dating. I hated it. I thought I'd get over it but-" You raked through his pubes, inching closer to his shaft. He exhaled steadily. "I heard you started having sex. I tried to butt in whenever I could after that."

"Jealous." You stated, finally sliding over his dick.

"Big time." He attempted to steady himself again, hands clenching into white fists. "Was it good with them? The sex?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, Yuji."

"Fuck. Sorry." He exhaled. "We got super close, I just, needed more of you."

You gripped him and he rutted into your hand.

"Love you a lot." He huffed. You gripped him harder. "F-Fuck."

He fucked your hand carefully. Scared that if he did it too fast or hard, you'd let go and leave him. You joined in the motion, spreading the pre from his head over his shaft and pumping him.

He'd gone wordless, mouth hanging open whilst uttering gasping grunts. His eyes rolled to you, deep brown's watching you.

"Stop staring..." You muffled, hand covering your face.

"You're so beautiful." He grunts. "Kiss me."

You do, and just like before he pashes you with greedy intent. You pull away before he can kiss you too deeply, he follows you, grunting against your parting lips.

"Feel good?" You ask.

"Feels amazing, baby. A little faster, please." He bucks his hips again until you comply, stroking him quicker. "Perfect, that's perfect." His grunts become breathy, turning into weak moans.

You've never seen Yuji like this before, the only comparison being him puffed after working out too hard. But this, you've never seen. You loved every twitch of his body and every noise spurting from his mouth.

You rubbed your index finger over his head and his hand grabbed at your thigh, squeezing you hard. "Fuck." He cursed.

Tortuously, you began to focus on rubbing up and down his tip. His breaths became rapid, chest rising and falling ridiculously fast.

"Fuck baby, don't stop."

You mewled at pain his tight grip caused you and his dick twitched. You leaned against his shoulder pressing your face to his neck. "Love you, Yuji."

Those words sent him over the edge. He cursed again, louder than before and you knew by the way he squeezed your thigh it would bruise tomorrow. You felt hot spurts of semen leak onto your fingers as you let him fuck your hand until his orgasm passed and his loud curses settled into fucked out whimpers. He'd gone limp now, panting.

You let go of him, causing Yuji to utter another weak groan. Pulling your hand out, you gazed at his cum coating your skin.

He watched you bring it up to your mouth and lick some with the end of your tongue. He was suddenly hard all over again. He grunted at the arousal.

Salty, you thought.

"Let's date." He stated, still breathy. You opened your mouth to speak but he continued. "I don't have to be your boyfriend, not yet. We'll just go out. On dates."

"Yuji,"

"You could stay over more often, we could watch movies, cuddle." His eyes slipped over your cum covered hand. "We could do this more. You don't have to love me right away, but at least give us a shot. I-"

"Yuji, shush," You sighed, grinning. You laid against the floor, somewhat breathless yourself. "Let's date." You nodded.

He pumped a fist in the air, quietly uttering a victory. You laughed. "You're going to wish you fell for me sooner, I promise. You'll see what a good boyfriend I can be."

"So you are my boyfriend now?" You jested, raising a suspicious look at him.

"I will be." He stated. "You'll see."

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.4

The skies are darkening as I walk home from the food stall, carrying what is – despite the time – technically my breakfast. Hot steam is wafting up from the flimsy plastic bags in my hand, warming my cold fingers.

I’m still not used to San Myshuno’s seasons, but Samara told me that it’s unusually cold for being this late in Spring. In a way, it feels like the city has decided to match my mood, as if the dark and dreary weather is being sympathetic to how I feel.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and a robotic voice jarringly interrupts a sad love ballad to flatly announce that dad is calling. I sigh and tap my headphones, he’ll just call again later if I don’t pick up now.

“Hey, honey!”

My father’s voice is warm and comforting like a blanket, and I can hear faint birdsong and the rustling of the trees in the backyard. I briefly wish I could just move back home and be a kid again and leave all the worries to my parents.

“Hi, dad. How are you guys? House still standing?”

“We’re good, Kieran and Liam are busy worrying about prom so it’s been unusually quiet. Oh, and speaking of standing, Grayson can stand by himself now. He can even take a few steps as long as he’s holding on to something.”

He sounds so proud, almost as if he was the one learning to walk.

“Aww, he’s getting so big! Next thing you know, you’ll all be chasing him around the house every time they visit.”

“I’ll make sure to have your mother send you some pictures of him when I get back inside. She’s busy in the kitchen, Griffin and Daria are coming over for dinner. But how are you? We barely hear from you these days.”

“Oh, you know, I’m really busy with work and hanging out with people and such. I’ve just been out shopping for dinner, and then I’m seeing a friend later.”

I hear him hesitate, like he can tell that I’m lying.

“Alright. That sounds good. We’ve been a little worried about you. And especially today…”

“I know, it was really rough in the beginning, but I swear I’m doing fine, I-”

My voice breaks and I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and take a deep breath to get it under control.

“Oh, honey. Listen, sometimes relationships don’t work out, no matter how much you love each other. I can see where Paul was coming from, and your mother and I have been worried that you’d feel pressured into something you weren’t ready for. So I want you to know that we’re really impressed that you’re staying true to yourself. It can be… very hard to do the right thing when you love someone, I know that. So I’m proud of you.”

“I just miss him so much, dad.”

“I know. But maybe you don’t really miss Paul. Maybe you just miss a version of him in your head that he failed to live up to. If Paul Romeo was really so perfect, he wouldn’t have made my daughter so sad.”

My father reminds me to take care of myself and I promise to call more often before I end the call and pick up the pace slightly just as the rain starts falling.

I manage to make it home before getting too wet, but it’s still a relief to step inside the warm apartment.

My laptop sits on the dining table, and I eye it warily as if the deluge of messages could somehow escape containment and drown me.

I unpack my food and try to ignore the state of my kitchen. I don’t have the energy to deal with it right now, so I just kick off my shoes and take my food to the couch as usual.

I text Marten and eat a few bites while I wait. He replies almost instantly and within minutes, he’s online. It’s becoming my favourite part of the day.

We play for a few hours, and I almost forget to be sad. Marten never mentions Paul, he just talks about normal things like what the other guys in his fraternity are up to, his studies, new games he’d like to play. Easy topics. He’s also good at carrying the conversation when I’m quiet, like tonight.

Marten probably doesn’t even know what day it is today, and somehow that makes it easier.

Eventually, though, he has to leave. He tends to go to bed early, even on weekends, and I promise him to get some sleep too. My barely touched food has congealed into a solid cube in the box and I leave it on the table and try to decide how to spend the rest of the night. As if I don’t already know.

Finally, I give in.

I open my laptop, ignoring the notifications about the thousands of unread messages. I thought the sudden influx of hate-mail was bad when my relationship with Paul was discovered, but it has been nothing compared to after the news of the breakup.

I know I shouldn’t, know I’m just picking at the wounds, but my fingers move on their own, out of habit, and pure muscle memory is making them type Paul’s name into the search bar. All the links are already purple, of course, there is nothing new here, but I still click the first one. It takes me to his Social Bunny profile. Paul was never that active on social media, and his latest post is several weeks old.

I know it by heart.

“In response to the recent speculation, I want to clarify that Julia and I parted ways a while back. She’s an incredibly gifted and wonderful person, and I truly wish the best for her.”

The best.

“But you were the best,” I whisper.

I feel like crying, but it seems like I’ve finally run out of tears, emptied the reservoirs over the last couple of months, and now all that’s left inside of me is dust.

I go back and click the second link, then the third, cycling through the old articles and interviews as if I’m expecting to find something I haven’t seen a hundred times.

Samara and Miranda are probably having drinks at The Rooftop right now. Samara texted me an hour ago, asking me if I was sure I didn’t want to go out with them instead of stalking my ex for once. I replied with another lame excuse. I’ve been avoiding people for so long that it feels like I’ve forgotten how to function in society, like some sort of feral raccoon who only knows how to hide and eat trash.

I’ve gone through all the links. I refresh the search page. Nothing has changed, obviously, but I refresh it again and again, feeling like I’m desperately knocking on his door and trying to be let in. Then I start over at the first link.

“In response to the recent speculation, I want to clarify that Julia and I parted ways a while back. She’s an incredibly gifted and wonderful person, and I truly wish the best for her.”

Samara is right, I can’t keep doing this. It’s crazy. There’s only one thing to do. I move my cursor over the red button and take a deep breath. Then I block his profile before I can change my mind.

As his picture vanishes, the entire screen blurs. It would seem that I still have some tears left.

beginning / previous / next

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Sixteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: angsty angst… it’s not getting better anytime soon lol and a few cuss words.

Notes: Ngl this one is a little light on the word count(so sorry!), but ya girl has been dealing with a week of no power following a hurricane… This chapter still hurt me in the chest, but I’m trying to be patient while I get to the juicy bits! If the name I have for your blog isn’t working, please let me know and I can fix it asap for you!

Word Count: 1300

Series Masterlist

• Late September, 2005 • Forks HS •

Reader

Getting involved romantically with a vampire - what’s there to lose?

Everything, apparently.

To include my sanity, my piece and fucking quiet too.

“Did you finally scare him off? Or did he realize he could do better and run for the hills?” Lauren Mallory sneers, Forks High School’s resident bitch.

Her manicured hand slowly slides up my locker door and snaps it shut, I manage to snatch my hand back in time to avoid the thin metal before it could do any damage.

Rolling my eyes, I turn and head towards my next class silently, not in the mood to engage for fear of tossing fuel onto her fire. I can hear her cackle as I walk away, thankfully she doesn’t follow or I would’ve truly lost it.

Rounding the corner and finally out of her line of sight, I beeline for the nearest bathroom. Stumbling in, I push open the closest unoccupied stall and sit on the toilet, bag in my lap.

Eyes closed, deep breaths, it’s fine. Everything is fine. Her words mean nothing and they’re empty, she’s an opportunistic cunt and doesn’t know the situation. Her words mean nothing, Y/n.

Except they plant a seed of doubt anyways.

He did run for the hills, they all did. I told him I loved him and nothing. Gone, erased from my life, ripped off like a stuck band aid that leaves behind a red welt and a slight sting.

Except there’s nothing slight about the sting in my chest. Breathe Y/n, or you’ll lose the fucking plot and freak. With shaking hands, I pull out a pack of gum and unwrap a stick - something minty to focus on.

Two quick knocks on the stall door break me from my thoughts, “Occupied!” I manage to choke out.

“It’s me, you alright?” Angela Weber’s quiet voice rings out in the otherwise empty bathroom.

“Oh um, yeah. I-I’m okay.” The tremble in my voice is obvious, but thankfully she affords me the nicety of not commenting on it.

“Okay, well I just wanted to check on you.” A pause, “I saw what happened in the hallway, she’s wrong you know.” My breath hitches and I know she hears it. “Everyone saw the way he looked at you… Just know, she’s wrong.”

I watch under my stall door as her white tennis shoes disappear and the main bathroom door swings shut, quickly swallowing a sob trying to worm it’s way up my throat.

Some days he feels like a figment of my imagination, a dream I dreamt and can’t discern from reality. And some days I’m reminded that he was real, that he made me feel things I can’t get rid of.

Things I really wished I could get rid of.

One of the worst side effects of them being gone is how lonely I didn’t realize I’d be without them. I mean, from my first day here Jasper captivated me.

Now… Now everything seems dull and draining. A different kind of quiet that leaves me empty, a complete opposite to his comfortable silence. No one to talk to, no one to look forward to seeing, no one that understands.

Well, one person understands.

But she’s not exactly here enough to carry a conversation. Not that I can blame her, I’ve been avoiding people in my own way. They either ask about them and why they’re gone or they look at me with pity, both of which I don’t care to experience.

The days begin blurring together, the rain that’s always pouring over the Olympic Peninsula drowns everything constantly - almost as if the sky is sad in solidarity with me. Music seems too itchy and loud, books are too hard to focus on to just read what’s on the page, and just about anything else I could think of to get him off my mind is too… Complex. Stressful. Monumentous. Impossible.

Three familiar rapid, but soft knocks at my door snap me from the reverie of my silent room.

“Dinner is ready, sweetheart.” I think the crease between my mother’s brow is a permanent fixture nowadays, one that’s entirely my fault.

“I’m not really hungry.” Watching her face fall immediately has me scrambling for a cover, “But I’m sure I’ll be hungry later if you save some in the fridge.” The smile I give her isn’t fooling anyone, but at least I’m trying.

I have to try.

“Okay baby girl, you say the word and I’ll heat it up for you.” She lingers a few beats longer, her grip on the doorframe looks like it’s the only thing keeping her upright before she retreats downstairs.

My mom isn’t the most involved in my life and I prefer it that way, but Jasper being gone… The way it’s affected me is also taking its toll on her and it’s obvious. Guilt begins worming it’s way into my chest and prickles at the corners of my eyes, fuck.

I have to try.

• Late October, 2005 • Ithaca, New York •

Jasper

Life has been… extremely off-kilter since that night.

My hunger comes with a vengeance I’ve never experienced and my moods? They rival Rosalie’s and I’m supposed to be able to control them.

I’ve tried going longer between feedings to try and beat this crisis into submission, but it feels as though I’m fighting an uphill battle and I can’t see the crest of the mountain. I’m drowning and these feelings are dragging me further from the surface, the light is getting harder to see and my lungs are screaming.

Emmett hasn’t spoken to me this entire time out of frustration and I get it. The rest of my family is on pins and needles, the silence at home stretching open with every passing moment. Esme has been nothing but a pile of worry since Edward decided to become nomadic for a while. A temptation I myself feel, but can’t act on - not while my hunger is this volatile. Carlisle is working the night shift at a nearby hospital, our new location not as overcast as our previous one. Alice… Alice is angry. I catch her staring off into space more often than not and I know, the temptation to ask is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to. Rose is strangely quiet, content to take care of small things around the house Esme would normally busy herself with and trying to cheer her mate up to no avail.

It all feels too much and not enough.

I know that if I could sleep, I would dream of her. I would try to at least. Try to remember her scent, the softness of her sweaters, the curve of her hip, the way she sinks into me when I hold her… White-hot flames lick me from the inside out and I close my eyes against the inferno, her smile a torturous image behind my eyelids. Get a grip - for fuck’s sake, you chose this to keep her safe.

I chose this to keep her safe.

I will keep her safe. Even if that means staying away from her, even if that means removing her, my heart, from my chest.

“I love you.”

Her confession rips through me even now, three of the most perfect combinations of words to grace those beautiful lips and I… Left her. Like a coward.

I left behind my heart on the driveway of a now cold and empty house. Alone. Unanswered.

But she’s safe. Safe from the monster crawling around under the surface of my skin, begging and pleading to be set free.

Safe from me.

Next

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@RavensandWriters -I couldn’t find your blog sweetheart! Your entry on google forms had spaces and I’m not sure if it might’ve auto-corrected, I’m so sorry!!🥺 if you see this, shoot me a PM or comment and I’ll fix it!

[cecilxa]

the boba theory

summary: ayato likes boba, but he loves you even more

contents: fluff, humour, lightheartedness all around, ayato is down bad, gn!reader (use of they/them pronouns), reader really likes boba sorry if you don't like it (bobalover!reader), quite dialogue adjacent

cw: food

a/n: longer than usual, but i thought it was a really cute twist on the olive theory and just ran with it! @ibitekaeya i promised i would write more ayato :)

wc: 1.4k

Ayato can feel your gaze on him. But strangely, he doesn’t feel it on his face, nor his arms, nor his, ahem, behind (which you, for some reason he pretends not to know, seem to like looking at). No, he feels it on one of his gloved hands, the other one presently holding one of yours. But even then, no, that doesn’t seem right either. So what could you possibly be staring at?

Oh.

It’s his boba. The smooth, creamy milk tea of his dreams combined with chewy tapioca pearls creates a sensation that’s refreshing for his palate and also soothing to the throat. It’s really quite a perfect drink to enjoy at all times, even when it’s cold out. You also seem to agree, given how you’ve been looking at it the whole time on your walk through the street.

He can’t help but feel a little jealous. It’s one of the rare off days he gets, and you’re more interested in his boba than him? The betrayal. Sure, it may be somewhat (and he’d like to stress the somewhat) childish of him, but what’s he got to do to be able to receive some attention? You haven’t even noticed how his eyes have drooped slightly, or how his smile is ever so strained around the corners of his mouth, or how his grip has tightened, which is causing some pearls to slowly creep up the cup…

“Ayato!”

He startles, his grip lessens, and those sweet, sweet tapioca pearls are saved for today. And his dignity, you guess. 

“Yes? Was there something you saw that interested you? I’ll gladly pay for it.”

“No, it’s just that your boba was going to spill–you were gripping it so tightly.”

“Oh.”

He silently thanks the Electro Archon. It’s only the second date, and he’s not sure whether he’d be able to handle the late nights in his bed replaying the horrifying moment of his boba spilling all over his clothes while his crush looks on. He’s cringing just thinking about it. Sure, he’d be able to play it off, but hotpot nights would definitely be a little more intense. Maybe she also has a fondness for similar milk-based drinks?

To steer the conversation away from embarrassing moments, an idea strikes, and he ushers you towards a nearby stall on the street, one that gives off a slightly sweet scent. 

“A boba tea, please.” 

The vendor’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of Kamisato Ayato ordering a simple drink, and while with a supposed significant other?! Just know that the rumours will be spreading as soon as you leave the stall–not that they’ve not started already.

“Right away, sir.” 

You look at Ayato questionably. He already has a boba, so why would he need another one? Similarly to the vendor’s expression, your eyes also widen, although much more subtly than the person shyly peeking up to grab another glance at the esteemed Yashiro Commissioner. 

Without even having to look at you, Ayato chuckles again, but with something akin to fondness.

“You’ve guessed it. It’s for you. I would offer you mine–I don’t really like it anyway–but I doubt you’d want it with all my saliva.”

The white lie falls off his tongue as if he were actually telling the truth.

He turns to hand the vendor some cash, but before he can properly give it over, you grab his hand and shake your head. 

“It’s mine, right? So I should pay. I’ve paid for stuff in the past when we’ve been together; it doesn’t matter whether we’re on a date or not.”

He hesitates, then retracts his hand. He then smiles–one that lifts the corners of his eyes, and one that reveals the crinkles of his mouth.

“Of course. If that is your wish.”

You proceed to give the vendor some cash and take the boba from their hands. If only you were looking at Ayato instead.

“Your patronage is greatly appreciated!”

Walking away, Ayato dips his face towards your ear and whispers softly, his hot breath tickling your neck.

“Is this your first time?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“A secret for our next date.”

He winks. You can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks. Why did he have to be this attractive? To cool yourself down (and to avoid keeping eye contact), you decide to take a rather large gulp of the drink, which even Ayato is slightly concerned about.

“Don’t drink too violently. The pearls could get stuck in your throat, and I don’t think either of us would appreciate a surprise trip to the doctor’s on only our second date, hm?”

You nod absentmindedly, but then the flavour hits your tongue. And then your eyes light up in a way that makes your whole face glow. As you chew on the tapioca pearls, a smile grows on your face, which widens as time goes on. The soothing sensation! The mesh of textures! The subtle sweetness! What a delight to experience! 

All the while, Ayato’s now the one staring at you with widened eyes. The look on your face is nothing short of extraordinary. Something in his heart stirs. Seeing you this happy, he’s now certain of the fact that whatever you ask for will be granted if the smile that graces your features is one that he gets to experience. It’s somehow only now that he realises you really have him wrapped around your pretty little finger. His eyes crinkle. 

“You never fail to amaze me.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Please, carry on.”

–

It’s been a few months since that incident, and Ayato still recalls it fondly whenever he’s feeling down or for motivation to finish his work quicker so that he’s able to spend some much-needed quality time with you. He smiles softly, chuckling at the expression he so vividly remembers. The look on your face is so endearing that he wonders how lucky he must’ve been when his ‘hunch’ ended up being the source of one of his most cherished memories.  

“What’s so funny?”

Your question grounds him in reality as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you towards him. 

“How I’m looking forward to beating Thoma in our hotpot game today; the look on his face will truly be something… hehe.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can respond, said housekeeper walks in, carrying a tall drink of boba. You gasp a little, something only Ayato can hear, and he grins. However, said housekeeper also adds a message that makes his heart not-so-subtly skip a beat. 

“My lord, here’s your boba that you requested. It’s your favourite flavour too.”

Thoma then sends a greeting your way, which you reply to with a grin. A pause, and then Ayato hears what might possibly be the loudest laugh you’ve ever let out. 

“Good joke, Thoma! I even believed you for a second there. He even told me yesterday how much he disliked it. It’s quite sweet, actually. He always has one with him so that even if we’re not near a drinks vendor, I can still have one, even if he’s not expecting me to be there.”

Thoma awkwardly laughs along, sending questioning looks towards Ayato, to which he responds with a smile that contains little to no mirth at all. Through gritted teeth, Ayato also laughs, although it sounds much more like a bark than a proper chortle. 

“Darling, could you excuse Thoma and me for a quick moment? I promise we won’t be long.”

Poor Thoma. 

“Oh, sure. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Ayato strides deftly out of the room, with Thoma following behind. He also doesn’t want you to notice the faint heat that he feels spreading across his ears.

“My lord, what are you talking about? Everyone in the Kamisato Estate knows how much you like boba.”

Ayato sighs.

“Their happiness is the one thing I hold most dear to my heart. If that means sacrificing some… drink, albeit one that I also hold dear, then I would not hesitate to purge it from my diet. They make me do foolish things to my heart, and subsequently make me do foolish things in return.”

Thoma is left stunned, while Ayato swiftly dismisses him to go back inside. He does turn back, however, and gives him a smile that never means good things. 

“I’m looking forward to our hotpot today. Make sure to be sufficiently prepared.”

Poor Thoma. 

Ayato pads in quietly, his footsteps silent as a cat’s, but pauses. He lets his gaze linger on your satisfied expression, and his ears pick up a pleasant hum. How wonderful. How so, so wonderful you are. When the time comes, he guesses he’ll have to reveal the grand truth, but for now, he’s perfectly content basking in your happiness. 

What you do for love. 

a/n: likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated!! 💙 (blue for ayato)

[wooliguns]

He held his breath and closed his eyes. “Forgive me for what I’m about to do,” he mumbled as he slipped the note into the mailbox, and then he was off to uni, just like everyone else.

~

i. and with words unspoken; a silent devotion

Venti scrubs furiously at the dried ketchup smeared on the base of his beloved fiddle, Diaochan, muttering complaints under his breath. He knew he shouldn’t have gone all-in on that burger. Sure, it was delicious, but the price he’s paying now—a ketchup massacre on his prized possession and his pristine white Converse—might not be worth it.

“Ugh, why?” he groans, glaring at the greasy stain like it personally betrayed him. The thought of scrubbing his shoes clean later makes him want to throw a tantrum, but instead, he sniffs and attacks the fiddle again with a wet wipe. Thank the archons he always carries these around. A hero’s weapon, really. Once the stain is vanquished, he tosses the used wipe at the trash can beside the bench. It misses.

Across from him, Xingqiu watches with his usual air of sophistication, wearing an outfit that screams trust fund kid—all crisp embroidery and fancy tailoring. Venti swears Xingqiu was born ready for a royal portrait. Judging by his expression, he’s either holding back laughter or mentally composing a tragic poem about Venti’s plight. Venti isn’t sure which.

“Diaochan deserves better,” he mutters as he tucks the fiddle back into its case with the reverence of a priest sealing a holy relic. He chucks the rest of his trash into the bin with a dramatic flourish, and this time, it lands. Progress.

Xingqiu finally sits beside him, harmonica in hand, fiddling with it absently. Probably stalling until Venti’s done wrangling his bag into submission.

“Venti?” Xingqiu’s voice is soft, almost hesitant, which is weird because Xingqiu is never hesitant. Or timid, for that matter.

“What?” Venti takes a sip of his plain milk tea. And yes, plain. No pearls, no weird jelly chunks—just tea and milk, as nature intended. Who even thought pearls were a good idea, seriously? Chewing something in the middle of drinking is just… wrong. But this is a rant for another day because Xingqiu looks like he’s building up to something, so Venti grudgingly tears his focus away from his Very Valid Opinions. Hmpf.

Xingqiu fidgets with the harmonica again, like he’s nervous about whatever he’s about to say. “Have you… ever been in love, Venti?”

And, there’s that. What?

Venti nearly chokes on his milk tea. “What?” he splutters, eyes wide as he sets the cup down before it becomes another casualty. “Love?” he echoes, blinking at his friend like the boy just asked if the sky is made of jelly. “Why are we having a feelings talk? Did I accidentally trigger a secret heart-to-heart button or something?”

Xingqiu sighs, patiently at least. “Fallen in love, Barbatos. You know, head over heels? Completely whipped? The kind of thing that makes you forget your own name because you’re too busy imagining their smile?”

Oh, archons. Venti feels his cheeks warm, making him smack them lightly with his palms, trying to keep his thoughts from wandering into dangerous territory. “Uh… I guess? Maybe?” He doesn’t sound convincing, even to himself.

Xingqiu rests his chin on his hand, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Hmm. I’ve been feeling that way lately. Like my heart’s too big for my chest, and I’m half convinced it might explode. It’s… unsettling.”

“And potentially fatal,” Venti supplies, lips twitching upward. “So what, your crush is out here committing emotional manslaughter, is that it?”

Xingqiu actually laughs, snapping his fingers like Venti just cracked the code to the universe. “Exactly! That’s what it feels like!”

Hm. Venti folds his arms, leaning back on the bench as he raises an eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who’s the poor soul that’s got Xingqiu the untouchable all lovestruck and ready to implode?”

The faintest blush creeps onto Xingqiu’s cheeks, and for a moment, Venti thinks he might literally combust before the confession even leaves his lips. “Well, they’re… special. When I see them, my whole day just flips around. Even if I’ve had the worst week, one smile from them makes everything okay again.”

Huh. That sounds a little too familiar. Venti shifts, awkwardly, trying to brush aside the memory of how his heart does stupid somersaults whenever a certain someone smiles at him. Nope. Not going there.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad, huh?” he teases, nudging Xingqiu with his elbow. “Just make sure you don’t explode all over them when you confess. That’d be messy.”

“Messy but memorable,” Xingqiu counters with a smirk.

Venti snorts, taking another sip of his tea. The mood lightens, but a part of him can’t help wondering what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of that kind of affection. The thought is a little terrifying—and yet… thrilling. He sets his cup down with a thunk, fixing his pal with a curious look. “But seriously, who’s got you all flustered? You’ve been rambling about this mystery person forever without actually saying who it is.”

Xingqiu stiffens, the tips of his ears turning a telling shade of red. He averts his gaze, staring at the ground as if it holds the answer to Venti’s question. And so he lets him stew for a moment, kicking at a pebble near his foot, and watching it bounce off the grass. Around them, the campus buzzes with end-of-day activity—students milling about, laughter and chatter drifting on the evening breeze. The sun dips lower, bathing the park in a golden glow.

Finally, Xingqiu clears his throat. “It’s someone I’ve known for a while. Since elementary, actually. We’ve been friends forever. Practically grew up together.”

“Oh? So… How come I’ve never met them?” Venti muses before fixing Xingqiu with a pointed look. “And you haven’t told them you’re in love with them?”

The boy shifts seemingly uncomfortably, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “Yeah, pretty much. And I don’t know, maybe you have met them. We all go to this college, after all.”

Venti grins, leaning forward, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “Alright, describe them! Maybe I know who they are.”

Xingqiu snorts. “Please. You know everyone in this godforsaken school. ‘Few people’ is the understatement of the century.”

“Fair point,” Venti concedes, wagging a finger. “But that’s beside the point. Spill it!”

Xingqiu hesitates, clearly choosing his words carefully. “He’s… charming. Quiet. Sensible. Funny. Oh, and he’s got this pastel blue hair. His fashion sense is pretty cool too.”

“Hmm. Sounds like a catch,” Venti says, leaning back with a nod. “Why not just tell him? He’s kind too, right? Bet he’d understand—and who knows, maybe he likes you back!”

Xingqiu’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. Venti fights the urge to cackle. Poor guy’s so whipped. Still, he decides to spare him further teasing. Just this once.

“Uh, I’m not sure about that last part,” Xingqiu mutters. “About him liking me back, I mean.”

Venti tilts his head, a little aghast. “What? Come on, Xingqiu, you’re… well, you’re you! If he doesn’t like you back, that’s his loss.”

Xingqiu smiles but doesn’t look persuaded. “He’s… the kind of person who focuses on other things. Academics, new hobbies, random interests—he’s always caught up in something. I just don’t think he has room for love. Especially not for me, his best friend.”

Venti tenses at that word: best friend. It’s hard not to empathize… since he knows the struggle all too well. But he shakes it off quickly—this isn’t about him. “How would you know if you haven’t even asked him?” he mumbles, kicking at another pebble.

“I suppose you’re right.” Xingqiu sighs. “What do you think I should do?”

Before Venti can answer (not that he has a clue, considering his own crush situation is a hot mess), a sudden flash of light makes him squint.

“Hi, Venti!”

He blinks and finds Ganyu standing there, beaming at him with a DSLR camera in hand. She’s rocking a light pink headband, a matching sweater, and denim pants that scream cozy vibes only. Beside her is Xiao, looking as stoic as ever in his dark green hoodie and jeans, his camera—his most cared for α7R III 35 mm full-frame camera with autofocus, as he’d once reiterated with a grumpy snit—hanging around his neck. The guy’s got his usual ‘don’t mess with me’ deportment, though it’s a tad offset by the black gym bag slung over one shoulder.

“Ganyu! Xiao!” Venti hops off the bench to give Ganyu a bear hug, catching a whiff of her sweet perfume. She giggles as they pull apart.

“Hey, Xingqiu,” Ganyu greets warmly.

“Hey,” Xingqiu replies with a small smile.

Venti waves at Xiao, who responds with a brief nod and a flick of his hand before crossing his arms again.

“You guys heading home?” Venti asks.

“Just about to!” Ganyu chirps. “We were supposed to, but Xiao-ge here insisted we—”

“Yu,” Xiao interrupts, clearing his throat.

Ganyu pauses, visibly stifling a laugh. “Alright, alright. Anyway, Venti, are you coming?”

Venti perks up, brushing off whatever Xiao just stopped Ganyu from saying. If it was important, surely someone would’ve spilled it by now. “Ah, yes! I’m done with today’s lecture too, so I’m good to go. And tired,” he grumbles, slumping his shoulders for effect.

Xiao huffs, rolling his eyes as he turns on his heel. Typical. But then he pauses, looking back over his shoulder at Xingqiu. “What about you? Taking the subway?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. My chauffeur will be here any minute,” Xingqiu says with his usual air of nonchalance.

“Alright then, we’ll get going,” Xiao tells him, already heading off.

Ganyu waits for Venti to grab his bag and fiddle before the two of them turn to Xingqiu to bid him goodbye. Xingqiu smiles, politely, giving a small wave before standing up with his backpack and harmonica. Venti doesn’t miss how his friend ducks his head as he walks away, looking lost in thought.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what’s on his mind. Venti knows it’s about their earlier conversation—falling in love with his best friend. Not that Venti is one to judge, given his own situation. He makes a mental note to check in with Xingqiu again sometime. If he’s being honest, though, he’s probably the last person who should be giving advice. Handling emotions? Not exactly his strong suit. Sigh.

“Oh! What happened to your shoes, Venti?” Ganyu’s gasp snaps him out of his thoughts, and he glances down at his white Converse. The faint orange stains from the ketchup fiasco are still painfully visible.

He shrugs. “Burger incident. Ketchup everywhere. Some even got on Diaochan.”

“Poor Diaochan,” Ganyu coos, and Venti laughs, leaning over to poke her side. She yelps and bats his hand away.

“Klutz,” Xiao comments idly from a few steps ahead, his tone as flat as the campus pancakes Venti swears are made of pure rubber.

“Hey, I heard that!” Venti grouses, stomping his foot for emphasis.

Ganyu giggles at the exchange. She’s long since gotten used to their bickering, being Xiao’s younger sister and frequent witness to their antics. Whether Xiao is teasing Venti or Venti is mock-snapping back, she knows it’s all harmless. If anything, she finds it amusing how easily her brother gets under Venti’s skin.

“Good,” Xiao quips, calm and collected as always. He doesn’t even bother looking up from his phone.

Venti pouts, gravely, glaring at the back of Xiao’s head. He sulks in silence, already plotting his revenge. Someday, somehow, he’ll get even! Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

After a while, they reach the subway station. Xiao, ever efficient, pulls out his wallet and pays for their beep cards at the counter before Venti can attempt to dig through his bag.

“Hey, I can pay for myself—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Xiao says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Venti fiddles with the strings of his red hoodie, trying to will away the heat rising in his cheeks. It’s nothing, he tells himself firmly. Xiao’s just thoughtful like that. Always has been. No big deal.

They ride the subway in comfortable quiet, and when they reach their stop, Ganyu is the first to step off. Venti follows, hyper-aware of the light pressure of Xiao’s hand against the small of his back, just barely there, but enough to make his breath hitch. Xiao steps off last, his commonly unreadable facial expression in place.

It’s a routine they’ve settled into—heading home together whenever their schedules align. Though they all attend the same university, they’re in different programs. Venti’s studying music, while Xiao and Ganyu, both in their second year, are taking photography.

And yes, in reference to Xingqiu’s earlier jab, Venti does know almost everyone on campus. Between his extroverted nature, his music recitals, and his love of socializing, he’s managed to befriend students, staff, and even some of the locals. Like Zhongli, who grades most of his performances, or Diluc, the owner of Angel’s Share, their go-to spot for unwinding after a particularly brutal week.

“Will you be having dinner with us, Ganyu?” Xiao asks as the three of them reach the dormitory. He’s already fishing out his keys to unlock the door he shares with Venti.

Ah, yes. Their shared dorm. It’s been three months since they decided to move in together, agreeing it was more cost-effective this way.

At first, Venti had been… uncertain. Because, hello? Gay crisis alert! Living with his best friend of nearly four years, who just so happens to be the subject of his ongoing ‘gay episode’? Was he really about to risk combusting into rainbow-colored flames every time they shared a space?

Apparently, yes. And honestly? Venti’s kind of shocked he hasn’t self-destructed yet.

Because, come on. Who wouldn’t fall for Xiao Alatus? The guy’s practically an angel in disguise: handsome, reserved, hardworking, passionate about everything he does. People don’t just admire Xiao—they pine. And by ‘people,’ Venti means nearly everyone in their college… including himself.

When did Venti’s feelings cross the line into full-blown infatuation, anyway? He can’t remember exactly. Maybe it was during one of their late-night study sessions, or when Xiao quietly stitched up a rip in his hoodie like it was nothing. Or maybe it was the time Xiao made him tea when he was sick, fussing over him with that rare, gentle concern that made Venti’s heart feel like it was learning to play hopscotch.

Not that any of it matters. Because as much as Venti would love to confess, he won’t. He can’t.

Confessing means jeopardizing everything: their friendship, their closeness, the easy course they’ve built over the years. No, it’s better this way—Venti keeping his feelings bottled up, Xiao blissfully unaware, and the two of them carrying on as if Venti isn’t secretly drowning in unrequited love.

So, here he is. Living in a dorm with the very person who makes his heart race and his thoughts spiral. It’s fine. This is fine. Everything’s fine.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll have dinner with my roommates!” Ganyu chirps, pulling Venti out of his reverie.

Xiao nods and unlocks the door, while Ganyu heads the opposite way. “Night, Venti!”

Venti hops forward to give Ganyu a quick peck on the cheek. “Night, Ganyu!”

“Just Venti?” Xiao muses, his tone light but teasing. “I’ve been nothing but a good brother to you, and you only say goodnight to this squirt?”

And, well, Xiao has a point… He’s probably both the best and the worst brother anyone could have. Best because he treats his sisters like they’re the moon and stars in his orbit; worst because he’s so overprotective he practically turns into a watchdog when it comes to them.

“That’s because she loves me more,” Venti shoots back, sticking his tongue out. That earns him a sharp pinch to his side, making him yelp. “Ack! Hey!”

Ganyu laughs as she heads inside her dorm, shutting the door behind her and leaving Venti and Xiao to their nonsense.

“You suck,” Venti grumbles, rubbing his side.

“I know,” Xiao replies, entirely unbothered.

“Ugh, a proud sucker, aren’t you?”

Before Xiao can retort, Venti slips under the arm Xiao had oh-so-conveniently used to block the doorway, darting into their dorm. Xiao clicks his tongue in annoyance but doesn’t stop him.

Straight to the fridge he goes, thinking of grabbing a carton of milk and pouring himself a glass instead of dawdling at the fact that this—sharing a space, having these easy, domestic moments—is the closest he’ll probably ever get to having Xiao.

And that’s fine. Totally fine. No one’s crying over spilled milk—or unspoken feelings—tonight.

The door slams shut from the foyer, and then he hears Xiao call, voice dry as sandpaper, “This is why you keep getting dirt on your stuff. You’re always so clumsy.”

“Yeah, well, that’s none of your business,” Venti retorts, but without a shred of actual bite, of course. Taking the piss out of Xiao is simply his second language.

So then, the guy follows him into the kitchen, gym bag already discarded somewhere. He stops in the doorway, one hand on his hip, watching Venti with the kind of mildly disappointed bearing that screams I told you so. It’s classic Xiao—repose, condescending, and clearly here to shame him. Ugh.

However, Venti ignores the look, hopping onto the kitchen counter and letting his legs dangle as he gulps down the milk he snagged. He finishes in one go, sighing and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Ah, that’s good.”

Xiao wrinkles his nose like Venti just committed a mortal sin. ‘Gross,’ his face says it all.

“Listen… If you’re using the detergent bar for that mess of a shoe,” Xiao begins, voice clipped with faux authority, “put it back in its container when you’re done.”

This has Venti rolling his eyes. Because oh, Xiao and his obsession with cleanliness. The guy’s a walking catalog for Proper College Students Who Have Their Shit Together. Straight A’s, always smells like fresh cedarwood, folds his laundry into perfect squares, and somehow thought sharing a dorm with Venti—human chaos incarnate—was a good idea.

“Yeah, yeah,” Venti mutters. “What’s for dinner?”

“My sister’s not eating with us, so don’t expect me to cook for you, you big baby.” Xiao turns on his heel and disappears down the hallway.

Venti sighs. “K.” He hops off the counter and dumps his glass in the sink with a clatter before trudging toward his room.

On the way, he spots Xiao’s gym bag lying in the middle of the floor, which, whoa. Rare for Xiao to leave something out of place. Before Venti can think too much about it, the guy in question reemerges from his room—shirtless, save for his black boxers, the full sleeve tattoo on his arm twisting over his biceps and curling down to a sliver of his back. And—fuck.

Venti’s thoughts short-circuit as he stares—because, gosh, those abs? Those shoulders? That tattoo? The way the light hits his skin? His entire existence? It’s almost criminal, damn it.

Stupid brain, Venti scolds himself, backing up fast before Xiao notices his ogling. But no such luck. Xiao glances his way, smirking as he saunters over to pick up his gym bag.

“Is that saliva I see?” the guy teases, tipping Venti’s chin up with one finger.

Freezing, swallowing every ounce of mortification he feels crawling up his neck, Venti snaps, “Fuck off,” fighting the blush that threatens to betray him.

Xiao laughs—an infuriatingly smug laugh—as he walks off, gym bag slung over one shoulder. And of course, Venti’s traitorous eyes trail after the flex of Xiao’s back.

Seriously. Fuck Xiao and his stupid, stupid muscles!

Fuming, Venti storms into his room, slamming the door so hard the whole dormitory practically shakes.

**

They end up ordering Thai food for dinner, with Venti footing the bill this time. It’s not a big deal—just a couple of boxes—and he’s got enough savings to splurge a little.

They eat in companionable silence, both too drained from the day’s academic grind to bother with small talk. Each of them occupies their usual spot on the beaten brown sofa: Xiao at one end, hoodie-clad and cross-legged, and Venti at the other, sprawled like a content cat.

Xiao finishes first. Tossing his empty box into the kitchen trash, he announces, “I’m going downstairs to check the mail.”

Venti hums in acknowledgment, his eyes flicking to the TV where Alice in Borderland plays. He pauses mid-chew to absorb a particularly intense scene but waves Xiao off without looking.

A few minutes later, Xiao returns. The door clicks shut behind him, and he holds up an envelope. “You’ve got something in the mail,” he says.

That catches Venti’s attention. He whips his head around, an eyebrow raised. “Oh? What does it say? Open it.” His voice is muffled, mouth still half-full.

His roommate obliges, ripping the envelope open where he stands by the door. Venti pauses the show, turning his full attention to Xiao as he pulls out a slip of paper and starts reading.

“‘Dear Venti, I saw you today, and as always, you look pretty…’” Xiao pauses, lifting an eyebrow of his own before shooting Venti a look. “It’s a love letter.”

“Is it, now?” Venti perks up, grinning. He leans forward, resting his chin in his hands. “Who in this day and age sends a love letter? Ohh~” A giggle slips out of him, uncontrollable and silly.

Xiao, meanwhile, furrows his brows and scans the letter again. Just when Venti thinks he’ll read more aloud, the guy bursts into laughter. Full-blown, clutching-his-stomach laughter, and… what? Why?

Venti frowns. “What’s so funny? Give me that! At least someone likes me enough to write me a love letter!” He bolts upright, crossing the room to snatch the letter from Xiao’s hands.

Still laughing, Xiao straightens and wipes at nonexistent tears. “Nothing. It’s just funny, that’s all.”

“What’s so funny about it? I don’t get it!” Venti grumbles, clutching the paper like it’s suddenly become the most precious thing in his possession.

But Xiao doesn’t answer, already turning toward their bedrooms. Venti watches, seething, as Xiao walks away with a smirk.

“Prick…” he mutters under his breath.

Just then, Xiao pauses just long enough to glance over his shoulder, shaking his head while opening his door, before stepping inside, and shutting it behind him.

Left alone, Venti sighs, the letter crumpling in his hand. He sniffs, half-stifling a sneeze as he flops back onto the sofa. “This day sucks.”

**

“Out of the way!” Venti hollers, though he can barely hear himself over the blaring classical music in his earbuds. He’s hurtling down the bridge on his roller skates, a disaster waiting to happen, as startled passersby leap out of his path.

This was such a brilliant idea, he thinks sarcastically. He’d told himself this morning it’d be fun to skate to uni—he hadn’t used them in ages, after all. Now, he’s barreling through crowds, dodging humps in the road, wobbling precariously as he balances Diaochan in one hand, a stuffed backpack on his shoulders, and his phone in his pocket, earbud wires flapping like tiny victory flags.

So far, he’s earned himself a colorful vocabulary of curses from people he’s nearly mowed down, but, oh well, he couldn’t care less. He merely giggles, breezing past their outrage as he flees their grabby hands.

Xiao and Ganyu left long before he woke up, so it’s just him today, skating through dust and pandemonium, praying he makes it to campus on time for once in his life, holy shit.

As the campus building comes into view, he braces to stop. Except—oops—he’s rusty after months of not using these skates. The next thing he knows, he slams full force into someone, and the two of them go crashing to the ground in a heap.

“Ow, what the actual fuck,” groans the girl he’s collided with.

Someone in the background bursts into hysterical laughter. Venti winces as he pushes himself up, his butt smarting from the impact. His earbuds have popped out, letting him hear the obnoxious cackling louder and clearer. “Uh, sorry,” he mumbles, sheepishly, adjusting his helmet to make sure it’s still secure.

“You asshole!” the girl—Mona, he realizes—shouts at the unseen laugher. “You think this is funny? How about giving us a hand?”

“Why would I? I’m not your slave. Besides, once is enough.”

Mona groans, glaring daggers in the direction of the voice. “Just as I fucking thought. You’re an insufferable nuisance.”

Meanwhile, Venti helps Mona to her feet, careful not to jostle Diaochan any more than the crash already did. “Sorry again,” he says with a grin, brushing dirt off his sleeves. He tries to help dust Mona off too, but she smacks his hand away with a scowl.

“And you, Barbatos!” she snaps. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I said I’m sorry,” Venti whines impishly. He adjusts his fiddle, relieved it doesn’t seem damaged.

“Hey, I know you,” muses the guy who’s been laughing at their expense.

Venti glances over, taking in the stranger’s outfit—a black band shirt, ripped jeans, and purple-and-black Vans—and the short, dark violet-blue hair that matches their sharp eyes. “Me?” he points at himself, startled.

“Yeah. You’re that guy from the music hall the other day. The one who got kicked out for showing up drunk.”

Venti feels his face flush. Oh, that. Right.

That was the day Diluc, bless his bartender’s soul, gave him a cider to calm his nerves before a recital. Things… went downhill. Zhongli had kicked him out—mercifully without expelling him. Venti still likes to think that’s proof the man has a soft spot for him. He chuckles, awkwardly, unbuckling his helmet. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“Cool,” the guy beams, nodding approvingly. “That was hilarious—and your voice was amazing, by the way.”

“Well, thank you,” Venti preens, flashing a bright smile.

“Glad we got that settled,” Mona cuts in, deadpanning.

“So how do you know this hag?” The boy flicks a thumb in Mona’s direction.

“E-excuse me?! Who are you calling a hag?” Mona gasps, incredulously, her eyes narrowing.

The guy shrugs, crossing his arms. “Well, I look young, and this guy”—he jerks his chin toward Venti—“looks like my fifteen-year-old cousin, so? Who else?”

“Heeey!” Venti protests, though he’s not truly offended. Still, he feels obligated to pout.

The boy just winks at him.

“You’re seriously a cunt,” Mona hisses, glaring daggers.

“Mhm. But where’s my thank you?”

Venti blinks. “Thank you? For what?”

Before anyone can clarify, Mona’s face turns bright red—not out of gratitude, but what seems like pure rage. She grabs Venti’s arm and yanks him away. “Whoa!” he stumbles, skates wobbling.

“Let’s go, Venti. We’re leaving this jerk far behind,” she growls, dragging him along.

“Eh? Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here!”

“Wait, Mona!” Venti tries to dig in his heels—well, wheels—but Mona’s resolve is ironclad. “I have class!”

“I know, but help me out here! I need to escape this moron!”

Venti ends up blowing a sigh, letting himself be pulled along. “Fine. But you owe me for this.”

“Fine.” And that’s how they end up in a coffee shop two blocks from campus, with Mona treating Venti to a White Chocolate Mocha grande while she nurses a cold foam iced espresso. The girl insists she needs something strong to calm her nerves after dealing with that boy. “I swear to the gods,” she exclaims, fanning herself as if physically exhausted by the memory, “that punk has been following me around all week. And for what? To be a pest, of course!”

Venti has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. It’s rare to see Mona like this, actually—the customarily cool, self-possessed adult in their group, completely undone by some emo-looking kid.

Instead, he grins and soaks in the coffee shop’s cozy vibe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air-conditioned space. His legs dangle under the table, his roller skates rasping softly against the floor. He hasn’t bothered to take off his elbow and knee pads, too lazy to deal with them just yet.

“So,” he starts, going for casual, “who was that anyway? Your secret admirer? Or…” He leans in, mischief taking over his system. “Your boyfriend?”

Mona’s head snaps around so fast it’s a wonder her coffee doesn’t spill. “Don’t even say that,” she hisses. “Venti, that’s disgusting. Have you completely lost your mind? Who would fall for a douchebag like that?”

Venti shrugs, pulling his yellow hat snugly onto his head. “I don’t know… you?”

Her groan is unadulterated agony as she sets her coffee down with a loud thunk. “Ugh! Okay, yeah, he might look like some Disney Channel reject—”

“Wow,” Venti mutters, snickering.

“—but hell to the no!” she presses on, ignoring him. “Over my dead body! Never. I’d rather eat dirt. Literal dirt.”

She feigns a gag for emphasis, and Venti can’t hold back his laughter this time. “Alright, alright,” he allows, grinning. “But seriously, how do you know him? And why’s he following you around?”

Mona takes a deep, long-suffering breath. “Fine. It all started last week. I had a bad week, okay? Stress piling up, professors breathing down my neck. So, I went out to a nightclub to blow off some steam.”

“And?”

“And I got drunk.”

“Obviously.”

She glares at him, and Venti raises his hands innocently.

“Anyway,” Mona continues, “I got way drunker than I planned and… passed out on the street next to the club.”

Venti shakes his head in mock disapproval. “Geez, Mona. And you’re judging me?”

She rolls her eyes but forges ahead. “So, this guy—the emo gremlin—found me. I vaguely remember telling him to go away, but apparently, he didn’t listen. Don’t ask me how, but he somehow dragged my useless, hammered body back to his place. And when I woke up…” She winces, her voice dropping. “…I was wearing his clothes.”

Venti’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah. His clothes. And I was in his bed.”

“Oh-ho!” Venti leans forward, suddenly all ears. “Go on.”

Mona rubs her temples, her frustration visibly mounting. “I was so confused. I didn’t see him anywhere, but there were Polaroid photos on a table, and a mug of something steaming. He must’ve been around, but I wasn’t about to stick around to find out.”

“What’d you do?”

“I snuck out.”

“Oof.”

“Right?” She groans, slamming her hands on the table hard enough to make Venti jump. “Now he’s bugging me about it. And as if that’s not bad enough, he goes to our school!”

Venti smirks, taking a long sip of his mocha. “Well, I think it’s sweet. I mean, he did take your drunk ass home instead of leaving you on the sidewalk. Kind of thoughtful, don’t you think?”

“Ugh, shut up,” Mona scoffs, shaking her head and looking away.

Venti just grins wider, savoring both his drink and her flustered state.

After a while,

“Do I really look old, Venti?”

“Huh?” He blinks, startled at the sudden query.

Mona frowns, deeply, her lips wobbling. “He called me a hag just now.”

And, “Oh…” His mouth forms a small o. Venti sips his drink instead of answering, because honestly, what does one even say to that? If he didn’t know Mona better, he might think she was on the verge of tears. But no—this is Mona. She doesn’t cry over something as trivial as being called a hag.

Her eyes, however, are practically sparking with rampage, her ears threatening to blow steam. Venti watches, entertained, as her assertion grows darker by the second.

Before she can launch into a full tirade—or grab him by his jumper strap—the shop’s entrance dings open. Xiao strides in, his younger sister Ganyu trailing behind, chattering animatedly to him about something neither Venti nor Mona catches.

Ganyu’s eyes land on them first. “Oh, Venti’s here! And Mona, too!”

“Hiiii,” Venti drags out, beaming as he bolts upright from his seat. It’s a tactical escape from Mona’s piercing glare. Ganyu meets him halfway for a hug.

“You two act like you haven’t seen each other every day,” Xiao drones, dryly.

Venti finally acknowledges him and feels his heart do a series of flips. Xiao’s plain oversized white T-shirt shows hints of his tattoos, his Sony headphones hooked lazily around his neck, paired with black-and-gray cargo pants and pristine Adidas sneakers. He’s a snack, is what he is, and it’s just so… unfair.

“Yeah, well, that’s just how much we love each other. Sue us!” Venti snarks, glaring at Xiao for good measure.

Ganyu giggles. “Right,” she agrees, while Mona blows raspberries at the exchange.

Alas, Xiao narrows his eyes at him. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you say you had practice today?”

Venti stills, caught red-handed. “Ah, about that—”

Mona elbows him hard, cutting him off. “I dragged him here, Xiao. I’m being stalked by some creep.”

“A kind and gentlemanly creep, wouldn’t you say?”

The voice comes from behind them. Mona’s head whips around, her face already twisted into a snarl. “You—! How did you find us—”

“Instinct,” the emo boy from earlier ripostes smoothly, stepping forward and winking. Before Mona can retort, he turns to Xiao, grinning. “Hey, man!”

Xiao steps up, and the two swap a swift one-arm hug with a firm pat on the back. “Hey, Scara,” Xiao greets, his voice low and raspy, that familiar early-morning tone that never fails to send shivers down Venti’s spine, causing him to bite his lip unconsciously.

Okay, focus.

“Wait, so you two know each other?” he points between them, desperate for a distraction.

“Yeah, we’re block mates,” the other guy says easily. He thrusts a hand toward Venti. “Name’s Scaramouche. Didn’t get the chance to introduce myself earlier, thanks to a certain hag.”

That’s the final straw. Mona explodes. “I’m not a hag! I’m twenty-two, you dumbfuck!”

Scaramouche, unfazed, taps his chin thoughtfully. “Huh. I thought you were younger… but no, I was right. You are a hag.”

His words drag out like a slow-motion scene in a bad movie, each syllable a dagger to Mona’s ego.

Mona’s cheeks puff up, her fists balling at her sides. Her entire body seems to radiate fury. “I’m gonna kill you!” she roars, launching forward.

In a blur, Venti and Xiao step between them. Ganyu, wisely, backs away.

Venti struggles to hold Mona back, wincing when her claw-like nails dig into his arm. “Mona, calm down!” he pleads, all too aware of Xiao pressed against him, their proximity sending his heart racing for an entirely different reason. And…don’t even get him started on the perfume his best friend wears. It’s just—intoxicating, really.

“Hey, you,” Xiao murmurs, addressing him. Venti glances up, finding the guy checking his watch. “You should get back to campus,” he says softly.

“What? And leave you with these two?”

Xiao nods dismissively. “I’ll manage. Just go.”

Reluctantly, Venti yields. “Okay,” he utters. Carefully, he slips out of Mona’s grip, still wincing at the aches in his arm, and grabs his things.

Even as he steps out onto the bustling street, Mona’s shouts and Scaramouche’s laughter reverberate behind him, making him shake his head. “What a day,” he intones, skating off toward campus.

**

He bursts into the practice room, late as usual. The moment his foot crosses the threshold, Zhongli’s sharp voice cuts through the air.

“Where have you been?”

The professor stands near the piano, arms crossed and brows furrowed in the kind of disapproving look that could make a lesser student crumble.

Venti ducks his head as he scrambles to his spot, clutching Diaochan’s case to his chest. “Uh, I got caught up with something. Mona—you probably know her, from the Astrological Education department—was being stalked by someone, and they—”

“Never mind I asked,” Zhongli interrupts with a tired wave of his hand, as if deciding he’s too old to deal with the details of Venti’s perpetual havoc. “Just take out Diaochan and play your piece, if you would.”

“Yes! Of course!” Venti salutes, snapping into action.

He flips open his case, carefully lifting Diaochan as if she’s made of glass. His bow follows, and in moments he’s in position, movements precipitate and adept. Chin resting on the violin, he takes a steadying breath as he angles the instrument perfectly against his collarbone.

The room appeases once he begins his chosen piece, In the Palace - Lamentoso. The melancholy strains fill the concert hall, wrapping around the audience like a gentle embrace. Venti can feel the change in the room’s atmosphere, the mass of their attention pressing against him. Some sigh quietly, conceivably hugging themselves to the music.

He risks a peek, cracking one eye open mid-performance. Sure enough, his audience is enraptured. Even Zhongli, who never shows much outward emotion, seems lulled by the piece, swaying as if under a spell.

Venti smiles inwardly, letting their reactions fuel him.

Then his gaze catches on the double doors at the back of the concert hall, creaking open to reveal Xiao and Ganyu.

His bow falters for half a second as heat rushes to his cheeks. Seeing them weaving through the scattered audience like that, with Ganyu leading the way, her eager smile bright enough to light up the dim hall. Xiao, trailing behind, looks as composed as is, hands in his pockets and his gaze fixed ahead.

Zhongli clears his throat, jolting Venti back into pivot. Hastily, he corrects his rhythm and carries on, pouring his emotions into the piece until it crescendos to its final, haunting note.

The room erupts into applause.

Ganyu hops up and down at the front of the stage, grinning as widely as the moon. She flashes Venti a playful thumbs-up. Beside her, her brother stands still, arms folded across his chest, bowed a smidge with his eyes shut.

But it’s the barely-there smile playing at Xiao’s lips that catches Venti’s breath. Xiao doesn’t smile often, but Venti knows exactly what that one means. He’s proud of him.

Venti’s chest swells, warmth spreading through him at the notion.

“Well done,” Zhongli announces once the clapping fades. He gestures for Venti to run through a few more pieces, which Venti does without complaint, buoyed by the lingering energy of Xiao’s quiet approval.

At long last, practice concludes. Zhongli offers a rare, vague smile. “A fine performance, Barbatos. Though I would appreciate your punctuality next time.”

Venti scratches the back of his head, grinning. “I promise. Next time for sure!”

Zhongli hums, clearly unconvinced, but lets it slide as he leaves the hall.

Venti exhales in relief, slinging Diaochan’s case over his shoulder. He glances down at the siblings waiting near the stage, and he can’t help the little grin that creeps onto his face.

Late or not, today didn’t turn out so bad after all.

**

“Ah, I’m knackered, dead, exhausted—the lot,” Venti complains the minute they step into their dorm. He barely waits for Xiao to close the door before collapsing onto the sofa, sprawling across it like a tragic painting of a very tired, very melodramatic college student. Him.

Xiao toes off his sneakers by the door, neatly placing them on the rack. Venti watches out of the corner of his eye as Xiao also aligns them perfectly, contrasting sharply with Venti’s own loafers, which lie haphazardly by the carpet, their heels pointing in opposite directions.

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans against the couch cushions, kicking his legs petulantly. “I feel like I’ve been jetlagged, and we didn’t even travel by plane!”

“Quit it, you drama queen,” Xiao mutters, grabbing one of Venti’s legs mid-kick to stop the flailing.

Venti rolls onto his back to face Xiao, huffing indignantly. He tries to ignore the way his stomach flips at the casual touch. One hopeless sort, his brain berates him, and he agrees with it. “A lot happened to me today, okay? I’m allowed to be a little dramatic about it!”

“‘A little’ is an understatement.” Xiao cocks an eyebrow, then pulls a light green envelope from his pocket and waves it in Venti’s face. “Also, you’ve got another one.”

Venti perks up immediately, sitting upright as his eyes narrow on the letter. His name is written across it in looping cursive. “Oh.” His expression sours just as quickly, and he stands abruptly, walking toward the bathroom. “I don’t have time for that.”

“Really? Didn’t you just gush about getting one yesterday?”

“Yeah, and you just laughed at me, remember?”

Without waiting for a response, Venti shuts the bathroom door, cutting the conversation off. He strips, tossing his clothes onto the sink before stepping into the shower.

The warm spray hits his skin, and he exhales, planting one hand against the wall. Showers after a long day are pure bliss, a small slice of heaven he can cling to after surviving college and the disarray that is his life.

After a while, Xiao’s voice comes through the door. “What do I do with this letter, Venti?”

“I don’t know!” Venti calls back over the sound of water. “Read it, maybe?”

There’s no reply.

By the time he’s done showering, drying off with a towel slung around his neck, the dorm is quiet. He slips into his room to change, opting for a tie-dye shirt and red shorts before padding back into the living room.

Xiao is sitting on the sofa, focused on the letter.

“I wonder who the sender is,” Venti muses aloud, making the other glance up. For a moment, Xiao just stares, his brows creased slightly, amber eyes indistinct.

“What?” Venti asks, putting a hand on his hip.

Xiao looks like he’s about to say something, lips parting briefly—but then he closes them again, rising from the sofa. “I don’t know, Venti,” he mutters, sounding serious for some reason. “But whoever they are, they’re creepy as hell.”

He presses the letter against Venti’s chest—just a little too hard—and breezes past him.

“Hey!” Venti squawks, watching Xiao disappear toward his room. “What’s your problem?”

Xiao slams the door shut before Venti can catch up.

“Don’t you think the letters are sweet?” Venti bangs on the door, his voice muffled by indignation.

From the other side, Xiao’s voice comes back, withered and stony. “Nope. Two letters in two days? Knowing your exact address and room number? That’s creepy.”

“Well, yeah, but they’re an admirer! They’re supposed to know things about me!”

Xiao’s silence feels like judgment.

Venti grumbles and raises his fist to knock again, but the door swings open before he can.

And Xiao stands there, leaning against the doorframe, wearing nothing but his black boxers. His teal-highlighted hair is rumpled, eyes sharp and piercing. The proximity—his face so close that their noses are almost brushing—makes Venti’s breath catch.

The intensity of Xiao’s gaze is paralyzing. No words are exchanged, just the soft sound of their breathing filling the air between them.

What the fuck is happening?

Venti blinks, rapidly, stepping back to put some distance between them. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

Xiao breaks the silence, his voice low and rooted. “All I’m saying is you should be more careful.”

Desperate to defuse the tension, Venti forces a smirk. “Oh? Is that my best friend worrying about me?”

Xiao pauses, considering, then scoffs. “I’ve always cared about you, idiot.”

Venti’s heart does a little flip. His gaze softens without his permission, warmth spreading through him. “I—Xiao—”

“But look at you,” Xiao interrupts, gesturing vaguely in Venti’s direction. “You’re small and gullible. You’re an easy target for this kind of thing.”

And just like that, Venti’s fondness evaporates. His lips twitch into a snarl. “I was about to hug you for saying you care, but now I just want to take it back.”

Xiao chuckles at his wake, but Venti storms back into the living room, muttering under his breath.

Moments later, Xiao joins him on the couch, now wearing a gray sweater, and flops down beside him with a huff. Without warning, he reaches over and smacks the back of Venti’s head.

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing the spot with a pout.

“Stop pouting, pufferfish,” Xiao growls, grabbing Venti’s face with one hand and squishing his cheeks, his grip firm but not painful.

“Mmph! Make me!” Venti hoots, his voice muffled as he tries to glare, but his scrunched-up face is anything but intimidating.

Xiao just smirks, daffodil eyes soft with amusement as he studies Venti’s exaggerated scowl. He doesn’t let go, and Venti sighs in defeat, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Fine, you win,” he mumbles, closing his eyes, resigned to his fate. “Do your worst.”

But instead of teasing him further, Xiao suddenly goes quiet.

Venti feels the shift instantly. Odd. He cracks one eye open, curious, and finds Xiao’s conveyance scrawled. His hand is still on Venti’s face, but his grip loosens, his thumb brushing…lightly against Venti’s cheek before pulling away altogether.

“Whatever,” Xiao mutters, disengaging curtly. His voice is low, almost distant. “I’m calling it a night.”

“What?” Venti blinks, sitting up straighter. His heart—it won’t stop pounding. “We… we haven’t even had supper!”

“Need to be up before sunrise. Lock up after yourself.”

And just like that, Xiao disappears into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Venti stares after him, his hand coming up to his cheek where Xiao’s touch had lingered just moments before.

“…What just happened?” he mutters under his breath, leaning back into the couch. He presses his palms to his face, groaning softly.

The crack in the ceiling catches his eye, and his gaze narrows on it as if it holds the answers to the sudden whirlwind in his chest. Did Xiao almost ki—no. That’s ridiculous.

…Isn’t it?

[neptunedivine]

my 2023 solar return observations

(tw: possible eating disorder mentions)

I was looking over my solar return chart yesterday and it made me very nervous. When I get nervous I feel better writing everything out. So that’s what I’m going to do :)

✨natal north node year✨ ✧ I turn my north node degree this year! My NN is Gemini 11H at 21° and in combination with everything else going on in my solar return, it does amp up the anxiety for me. I feel like I’m gonna be shoved into my destiny because I’ve been stalling for so long (well not stalling as avoiding, but not taking the leap(s) I need to out of fear).

8H stellium ✧ tbh I just wanted to address the obvious in all its glory before I tried to dissect it any further. Transformations feel like they’ll be a focal point this year, like heavily. But then again looking at the planets that make up this stellium (aside from Chiron), it doesn’t seem too bad? We’ll see.

Virgo rising at 3° + mercury as the chart ruler in Pisces 8H @ 29° ✧ I taste a lot of criticism in the air (mainly from myself but we’ll see). Some of this energy looks familiar because natally I have my mercury in Pisces in the 8H but @ 10°. Virgo is on my 3H cusp natally as well. Naturally knowing myself I feel like writing is going to be the focus for the year. Since my natal NN is also ruled by my chart ruler this year, I think I’m going to be pushed to really start making music this year. Especially since mercury is conjunct with my sun too. I think putting more time and dedication into it will change my life? (I’ve been viewing a lot of readings lately telling me that my passions and creativity will grant me great abundance so this could be in association) There could be an emphasis on me speaking my truth as well. Possible recognition as well with it being at 29°? It feels intense not only because it’s a fame degree but it’s the fate degree and conjunct with the Aries point.

Pisces sun 8H @ 28° ✧ I’m used to the placement but not in the 8H. With it being conjunct with my mercury I feel like this could be related to me shedding a bad mindset or patterns in my habits this year? (I feel like this pairs well with my Saturn placement which I’ll talk about later). As well as finding a trusted source to have deep conversations with (possibly a therapist) seems very likely for this year.

Aquarius Moon 6H @ 19° ✧ I think I will be very analytical and regulatory with my emotions and my feelings this year. Instead of feeling everything and questioning everything and feeling lost, especially with the possibility of a therapist, being able to dissect the reason for why I feel certain ways may happen. I also spiraled a lot in the past year so there could be a sense of grounding brought into the year.

Taurus Venus 9H @ 2° + + NN @ 4°+ Uranus @ 16° ✧ I don’t see myself traveling really? I could travel to somewhere beautiful, but since my natal venus is in 9H too this would be a continuation of my love for other cultures. A possible love interest from a different country or uni could be possible, but my guides know for sure that I’m not looking for that right now…right? Idk I’ve been very career driven for a few years now and I don’t see that changing. But who knows since my SR Uranus and NN are in the same house lol. Speaking of Uranus here, please for the love of God let this not play with my degree. I'm supposed to graduate next spring.

✧ I’m just now noticing how many feminine degrees there are that inspire creativity (Taurus (2°,14°,26°), Libra (7°,19°), and Cancer (4°, 16°,28°). Pretty cool. ✧

Gemini Mars 10H @ 26° ✧ Pairing drive (Mars) with curiosity (Gemini), this could relate to my passion and writing outside of the box of what is expected from me, or who I'd expect. (I have a list of talent that I really want to write for and I think about them when I write songs sometimes so that could be relevant). Or I could be just collaborating more? I’m not sure with the 8H stellium though. Oh! A drive to learn new things maybe? I’ve always wanted to get into production but with it being so white cis-male dominant it felt gatekeepy. But miraculously I have I think enough tools to figure out a good part of it independently.

Aries Jupiter 8H @ 16° ✧ I keep reading good things about this placement and I’m very excited about it. I could be receiving a large sum(s) of money this year (scholarships?). Also, this placement is not only conjunct with my natal venus but MC as well, so this energy could be amplified since having Venus/Jupiter in the 8H are very strong wealth indicators, but I could be gaining monetary abundance or just abundance in general towards my career somehow.

Pisces Saturn 6H @ 1° (tw: possible eating disorder mentions) ✧ I was watching a tiktok a few weeks ago about Saturn going into Pisces and what that could mean. They mentioned an end to things that relate to escapism, which makes sense since in modern astrology Pisces is ruled by Neptune, like overeating and procrastination. I feel like both of those topics would be covered in my life this year since the 6H rules over the physical body and health, but also the daily and routines. There could be a theme of cutting the bs and getting in control of my life in these areas. My Chiron natally is in the 6H so this has been a struggle I’ve been dealing with for a while. I don’t know if the "problem of Chiron” will be resolved but I think significant improvements could be made.

Pisces Neptune 7H @ 25° ✧ I don’t have the energy to be delusional in love this year please abeg. I have Neptune in the 7H but in Aquarius, so there’s an element of this that I’m used to. I could be continuing to manifest my dream partner? Because I do that every day when I listen to love songs and I really enjoy it. But a real person? In the flesh? Right now? Absolutely not, pass.

Capricorn Pluto 5H @ 29° ✧ I have my natal pluto in sag at 17° so I’m used to some of the energy but I think with it being Capricorn which rules over hard work and discipline rather than the freedom sag grants, I will take my passions seriously enough to make moves. Personally, I stress so much about making music and my skills and being really talented and getting everything right but I don’t do anything. I just sit in my charged obsessive energy. But hopefully, I’ll make the right moves this year. Recognition worthy? Possibly with how much 29° is popping up in my chart.

Taurus MC @ 29° ✧ The idea of getting recognition for my passion and my work feels very daunting for me because I don’t feel ready at all. I'm very perfectionistic with my passion. I'm so adamant about making it my career and being very well-known for it. I get very nervous about f*cking up. Regardless I don't think this year cares I might be shoved into the position to be seen, maybe not at its height because I glanced at my SR for the next two years and they feel like extensions of this year, like in acts.

that's all for now. see you later! :)

[cafeaulately]

☕️ 11/09/2024 | LIFE LATELY ☕️

— I’ve been thinking about starting a work blog. Maybe if I romanticize my job a little, it’ll help ease the anxiety before I start each day. Yes, I'm that corporate slave who freaks out over the insane workload, but still gives it my all in the end.

— I’ve been on a healthy living journey for a month now. Despite crazy work hours, I try to squeeze in 30 to 45 minutes of exercise every other day, and Saturdays are for walking and running.

— I’m also in a calorie deficit. I’m surprised—especially in the first week—how I quickly feel full. I think it’s because I’ve been loading up on veggies at every meal.

— By the second week, I was craving sweets, so I treated myself to BLK. I skipped the sauce and just went for granola and sugar-free chocolate chips. I realized yogurt tastes good even without the chocolate sauce!

— I’m not expecting dramatic weight loss because of my PCOS, but so far I’ve lost 4 kgs. My former manager, who’s been helping me with this, says it’s great progress, and that really keeps me motivated. I’m just happy I finally took the leap.

— On Nov 2, we visited our departed loved ones and managed to stop by three memorial parks. We spent the most time with my lolo. We sat on a picnic mat, enjoying good food and conversation. After eating, we checked out some food stalls. I bought kapeng rice (lasang tutong, ang sarap!).

— On Nov 3, we went to ATC for a pre-birthday dinner. We ate at Luk Yuen, followed by dessert at Mary Grace and Pink Berry. I allowed myself to just enjoy the food without weighing or counting calories, but I still practiced mindful eating.

There’s so much more to share, but I’m getting sleepy. I’m grateful for another year (cheers to 31!), for surviving the work week, and for the fact that it’s finally the weekend. Hope you have a restful one too! ☕️

[waitmyturtles]

THIS. EPISODE. DID. ME. IN. Moonlight Chicken episode 5 thoughts:

1) Let’s just call this episode ONLY FRIENDS, AMIRITE? Alan, Jim, let me tell you about this showwww...

2) No, seriously, this was another case -- as I am learning about Aof’s oeuvre -- where he packs SO MUCH into one episode that my head is left spinning (I’m still recovering from episode 10 of Bad Buddy). Like I reblogged earlier today: I LOVE that Aof is messing with the couplings, the GMMTV recipes. Love it, love it, love it. Seeing First and Mix get cute gave me the shivers, I can’t lie. 

3) We get the history of Wen and Alan. We get a lovely repeat of a trope he so beautifully memorialized in Bad Buddy. We get the other side of that trope -- when the relationship ends, the memories sour. 

How do you deal with that -- how do you process that? Oh lord, we got to see that through Wen, his processing, his thinking. His sympathy and compassion to Alan, which he still had! He still had their ring! Wen was willing to face Alan’s sarcasm, to take the hits, because he was afraid of truly breaking Alan -- until he absolutely HAD to break Alan, to break his own misery and fate. 

God, could Mix and First have done any better with demonstrating the hills and valleys of a relationship? I’m shaking my head because, while it was devastating to watch, it all rang SO TRUE. Aof didn’t flinch at the pain, the stomach twists, of the demise of this relationship. Ugh, even Alan at the bank with the loan situation. The SIMMERING! The anger, the sadness, the RECOGNITION that his bond with Wen was on the way out. With or without Jim there. AND -- Alan talking about Wen as if Wen were a possession. First SHOWED US what Alan’s fucking problems were! Oh, my gut. So painful to watch. 

4) And then. Jim and Wen at the chicken rice stall. And WEN, pushing JIM! Inherited trauma much, Wen?

We know why Jim is holding back from Wen at that point. We know Jim is preoccupied with his past. Whether or not Wen is acknowledging it doesn’t matter at that moment. What Wen is doing is pushing Jim like Alan pushes Wen. And Jim is like, hold up, hands up, I don’t want none of y’alls drama right now. I’m not there for this. (Which, to be honest, I took as a legit position at that point, despite feeling sorry for Wen. I appreciate a no drama stance from an OG uncle.)

5) But Wen. My heart for Wen. What I loved about the interconnection between his conversation with Gong and his run through beautiful outdoor Pattaya, recollecting everything he was going through -- we know what Wen’s moral conflict is. His moral conflict is that he’s earning money through a job that will destroy a key corner of Pattaya’s culture, the culture he’s experiencing at the moment of his run. His ability to function as an adult is literally impeded by his guilt towards Pattaya, towards Jim, towards the culture he’s going to influence deeply, and by his ability to afford (or not afford) his own place. His guilt towards Alan. His desperation towards Jim. His own poverty, financially and emotionally. 

Is he looking for Jim to save him? And, is that Jim’s role? 

6) And I haven’t even begun to talk about Heart and Li Ming yet. (THERE’S SO MUCH IN THIS EPISODE. I’ll come back to Jim and Wen once more before this is done.)

Firstly, with Fourth and Gemini -- LOVED THE FAN SERVICE. And I’m not even watching MSP, but I am sure the MSP fans loved the mascots and the pictures -- super sweet. Wen’s cute-cute uncle smile towards the two teens, gah, my twinkling heart.

7) Y’all, I really don’t know how much more I can take of these damn parents in dramas right now, lol. I just posted this today to help me process all the family trauma I’ve been seeing lately in the dramas I’ve been watching (and tbh, I’m doing it to myself, right, I’m choosing my own dramas, but STILL). 

But to see Heart’s parents struggling to communicate with their son. And to acknowledge that they haven’t had anyone to interpret for Heart in three years. And to see those parents actually have the motherfucking audacity to cry over Heart’s anger about literally being abandoned. 

[All bad drama parents that I’m experiencing right now -- please come with me as I lock you in a windowless room so you can ruminate on your crimes. (Which you won’t, because you’re all sociopathic narcissists, but ANYWAY.)]

@wen-kexing-apologist‘s prediction that Li Ming would become an interpreter was right for the present moment, and I loved that that came true. Along with this -- I absolutely LOVE that many of Heart and Li Ming’s conversations are not subtitled. I LOVE THIS, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT. 

What all of this does for me -- the un-subtitled conversations, the interpreting -- it demonstrates the growth of their intimacy. Why should us as the audience -- WHY SHOULD HEART’S PARENTS -- be privy to a couple’s most intimate moments? Heart’s parents think they could control him, because they were clearly ashamed of him. Heart TRUSTED Li Ming to communicate to his parents Heart’s most critical thoughts and feelings. What gorgeous intimacy to see growing between the two teens. The trust. Heart can only trust Li Ming at this moment, because he can’t trust his parents -- not only with his inner thoughts, his own personal intimacy, but to even give him basic emotional care. 

@bl-inded’s analysis was spot on. I, too, also got the sense that Heart’s parents thought that they were doing enough, because they were taking basic care of their son without further engaging with him -- because they were ashamed of him, maybe even disgusted with him. What purpose would Heart serve to them after he lost his hearing? I’m sure they asked themselves that question (or, at least, Asian viewers/us broken Asian children would KNOW inherently that they asked themselves that question). 

8) A few last passing thoughts:

- I wish I could find the post here on Tumblr, but someone once wrote that the things that we fall in love with when we first meet a person -- their sarcasm, say, their sense of humor, their stubbornness -- those things often become the qualities that we end up hating as the relationship ends. Because the sarcasm gets turned back into the relationship. Oh, Alan. 

- I thought the use of sound and music were wisely leveraged. I loved the chirping outside the outdoor restaurant where Alan and Wen were eating during the break-up. It was very indicative of Pattaya’s outdoor eating culture. AND: when did we NOT hear music? When we saw Heart’s unused keyboard on his dresser as the camera pulled back on him and Li Ming as he wept. 

- Finally: I really liked the slight flip of the paradigm of older culture vs. modern culture at the end of the episode. I kind of felt like it was the younger crew --Wen and Li Ming -- who were the brave ones of the episode, to step up and out to reflect how they wanted to move forward in their worlds. Li Ming WAS going to support Heart, no matter what. And Wen WAS going to confront Jim, no matter what, and demand comfort from Jim -- because he know that Jim has comfort to offer.

What the HELL will we be faced with tomorrow, oh my god. I’m going to need a large cup of hot water with lemon, please, my poor heart!

I’m actually going to give this episode ��🐔 for the Khao Man Gai Appreciation Rating -- even though we didn’t see KMG, we got a clutch cooking tip from Uncle Jim about the old winter melons. AND, y’all, I made one of Hot Thai Kitchen’s KMG sauces, nam jim tao jiew the other night and it was bomb. Highly recommend!

[dumdumsun]

Wax and Wane

A/N: Sorry again for the late update! We're nearing the end! I wanna wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving and a happy holidays!

Warnings: blood and death, mentions of vomit and blood, brief mention of overdose

Word Count: 3498

—————————————

Chapter Fourteen: The Reunion

In a swirl, the contents from Steve’s stomach were flushed down the toilet. He sighed out and rested his arm on the seat, too tired to care about how unhygienic it was. In the neighboring stall, Robin laid on her back with her legs straight up in the air and her heels resting on the door. “The room stopped spinning for me. Is it still spinning for you?”

Steve looked up at the ceiling to find it still. “Holy shit. No. You think we puked it all up?”

“Maybe. Ask me something.” She switched to a Russian accent. “Interrogate me.”

“Okay. Interrogate you. Sure. Um…” He chuckled and sat up straight. “When was the last time you, uh, peed your pants?”

“Today.”

“What?”

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw.”

The two burst out into laughter. “Oh, my god.” Steve exclaimed.

“It was just a little bit, though.” She giggled.

“Yeah, it’s definitely still in her system.” He heartfeltly groaned as he pinched his nose. Robin heard this and laughed a bit harder as she sat up and leaned against the wall.

“Oh…” She sighed out the last of her laughs. “Alright, my turn.”

“Okay. Hit me.”

She ran her hand through her locks as she thought of a question. “Have you ever… ever been in love?”

There were a couple beats of silence before he answered. “Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.” He made his hand in the shape of a gun and imitated a gunshot sound playfully.

“Oh, my god…” Robin groaned. “She’s such a priss.”

He hummed. “Turns out, not really.”

“Are you still in love with Nancy?” She scoffed.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Steve stared off as a thoughtful look came about his features. “I think it’s because I found someone who’s a little bit better for me.” He chuckled. “It’s crazy. Ever since Dustin got home, he’s been saying, ‘You know, you gotta find your Suzie. You gotta find your Suzie’.”

Robin furrowed her brows. “Wait, who’s Suzie?”

“It’s some girl from camp, I guess his girlfriend. To be honest with you, I’m not a hundred percent sure she’s even real.” He ran a hand through his hair with a small laugh before he exhaled out his humor. “But that’s not- that’s not really the point. That doesn’t matter. The point is, this girl, you know, the one that I like… it’s somebody that I… didn’t even talk to in school. And I don’t even know why.”

Heart stuttering, Robin thought of their conversation they had while in captivity as she let him talk.

“Maybe ‘cause Tommy H would’ve made fun of me or… I wouldn’t be… prom king.” He shamefully shook his head. “It’s stupid. I mean, Dustin’s right, it’s all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because when I think about it, I should’ve been hanging out with this girl the whole time.”

Her stomach churned and she felt like she was going to throw up all over again, and not because of the drugs.

“First of all, she’s hilarious. She’s so funny. I feel like, this summer, I have laughed harder than I have laughed… in a really long time.”

She grinned, knowing that she was the one Steve had spent the most time with this summer.

“And she’s smart. Way smarter than me. You know, she can crack, like, top secret Russian codes and…”

But that grin fell as her heart broke. Not for herself, but for her friend. His confidence in his confession hurt her more than anyone would have thought.

“You know? She’s honestly unlike anyone I’ve ever even met before.”

Robin buried her head into her knees, having no idea how to respond. He thought so highly of her, and she had not a clue as to how to break the news to him. She ran both hands through her hair and tiredly scrubbed at her face.

“Robin?” Steve tapped on the stall wall, unable to see the tears in her eyes when she lifted her head. “Robin, did you just OD in there?”

“No.” She quietly answered with a sigh, slowly leaning back against the tiled wall once again. “I… am still alive.”

This was unlike her, he knew it. The deep sigh that sounded from her stall worried him a bit. So, he scooted over to the wall, grabbed the bottom of it and slid through the gap to her stall.

“The floor’s disgusting.” She watched him lean against the wall across from her.

“Yeah, well,” He hummed. “I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so… What do you think?”

She raised her brows. “About?”

“This girl.”

“She sounds awesome.”

“She is awesome. And what about the guy?”

“I think he’s on drugs, and he’s not thinking straight.”

“Really? ‘Cause I think he’s thinking a lot more clearly than usual.”

Any amusement on Robin’s face was gone. “He’s not.” She inhaled a shuddering breath and rapidly blinked to keep the tears at bay. “Look… he doesn’t even know this girl. And if he did know her, like- like really know her, I don’t think he’d even want to be her friend.”

Steve shook his head and leaned forward to be closer to her. “No, that’s not true. No way is that true.”

“Listen to me, Steve.” She looked deeply into his eyes. “It shocked me to my core, but I like you. I really like you. But I’m not like your other friends. And I’m not like Nancy Wheeler.”

He chuckled. “Robin, that’s exactly why I like you.”

She scoffed, having no choice but to tell him the truth. “Do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, confused at the way she tightly shut her eyes.

“It isn’t because I had a crush on you. It’s because…” A heartbroken, twitching smile made its way onto her face. “...she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

Steve furrowed his brows in confusion. “Mrs Click?” He tried, even more confused at her tired chuckle and the way her eyes averted and sparkled with a sort of admiration.

“Tammy Thompson.” She whispered. “I wanted her to look at me. But… she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your… stupid hair.”

Okay, now he was seriously confused.

“And I didn’t understand, because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And you asked dumb questions. And you were a douchebag. And- And you didn’t even like her and… I would go home… and just scream into my pillow…”

Steve shook his head, trying his best to understand this situation. “But Tammy Thompson’s a girl.”

If possible, her expression became even more heartbroken. “Steve…”

“Yeah?”

She gave him a look, one that just made everything click.

Tammy Thompson’s a girl.

“Oh…”

“Oh.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah… Holy shit.”

The two fell into an uncomfortable silence. Robin couldn’t even look at Steve, certain she had just lost a really cool, really sweet, really funny, really caring, really good friend. She didn’t find those very often, and the fact that she would lose one for just being herself, well…

That was the story of her life.

Steve, on the other hand, didn’t know what to think. The revelation didn’t put any sour feelings in him towards Robin, it just shone a light on their entire relationship. Robin is a very vocal person, ready to speak her mind. If she liked him, she would have said it a long time ago. She wouldn’t have kept it a secret unless it was something that would have damaged their relationship, like revealing a part of herself anyone else would have hated her for.

But not Steve. He wasn’t like that. In fact, her bravery probably made him appreciate his friend even more.

“Steve…” She looked at him in desperation, begging him to say something, anything. “Did you OD over there?”

He smiled. “No, I just, uh… just thinking.”

“Okay…” She whispered, nervously tugging at her earlobe. She was certain he was about to end their friendship right then and there.

“I mean, yeah.” He shrugged, grabbing her attention. “Tammy Thompson, you know, she’s cute and all, but… I mean, she’s a total dud.”

Robin frowned. “She is not.”

“Yes, she is. She wants to be, like, a singer. She wants to move to, like, Nashville and shit.”

“She has dreams.”

“She can’t even hold a tune. She’s practically tone-deaf. Have you heard her?”

Robin dropped her jaw, not wanting to agree with him, but she smiled at the thought of her crush being a terrible singer.

“All the time.” Steve continued, starting to sing off key. “You see me now tonight-”

“Shut up.” She laughed.

“You see me more than-”

“She does not sound like that.”

“She sounds exactly like- That’s a great impersonation of her.”

“She does not. You sound like a Muppet.”

“She sounds like a Muppet. She sounds like a Muppet giving birth.”

Robin laughed as he started to sing again, this time trying to imitate Kermit the Frog.

“And if you could hold me tight…”

She grinned and joined in.

“We’ll be holding on forever!”

“Exactly!”

“I know!”

Their giggle fest was momentarily interrupted when the bathroom door burst open again, Dustin angrily walking in with Erica in tow.

“Okay. What the hell?!”

As soon as they looked at each other again, their laughter started up again, making them appear as if they were still drugged.

-------------------------------------------------

Bradley’s Big Buy welcomed in Billy Hargrove, his boots crunching on the glass left there by its previous occupants. He stopped at the entrance, his senses reaching out for a presence. For Eleven. For his protector.

His senses pulled him to the medicine aisle.

They grew stronger as soon as he was in the aisle, finding a small puddle of blood among a litter of used medical supplies. It bubbled and swirled as he walked over and knelt down in front of it. He dipped his middle and index finger into the blood and brought it close to his face.

Immediately, his head snapped up, pupils dilated and black veins in the whites of his eyes. He knew where she was. And based on the presence he felt in the bathroom, they were together.

At the Hawkins Fun Fair, Karen entered the Gravitron, pulling her daughter and husband along with her. “How does this work?” Ted asked.

“You just lean against the wall and then all of a sudden, you’re gonna feel the wind push you back and it’s gonna-”

“Hold on. Do we have seat belts?”

“No, no, there’s no- Joyce!” Karen lit up at the sight of Joyce Byers rushing up to her with Chief Jim Hopper following behind. “Oh, my gosh! How funny to see you here!”

Joyce gave her a strained smile. “Where are the kids?”

“I… I haven’t seen them. I don’t think they’re here yet.”

From the middle of the ride, the operator craned her neck to them. “You three, up against the wall!”

But Hopper ignored her and turned back to Karen. “No, where are they?”

She chuckled and looked down in thought. “Oh, my gosh, I can hardly keep track these days. Uh, they were at, uh… Dustin’s then Lucas’s, then Max’s.” She shrugged uselessly with a smile. “You know how it is. Summer!”

Ted chuckled with a nod from where he was leaning against the wall beside Holly. “Probably getting into some kinda trouble.”

Suddenly, the ride alarm blared, the door to the only entrance and exit dropping closed. “Last warning, you two! Up against the wall!”

“Hold the ride!” Hopper retaliated.

“On your life, Magnum!”

As soon as the lever was pulled, Joyce and Hopper were thrown against the wall. The floor dropped from below their feet and the ride began to spin. Ted groaned uncomfortably as Karen grinned in exhilaration.

“Woo! Here we go!”

“Holy smokes! Holy smokes!”

They were so entranced by the ride that they didn’t notice Joyce and Hopper clasp hands, interlocking their fingers together.

-------------------------------------------------

The ending of Back to the Future brought life back into the mall, a whole crowd of people exiting the theater in enthusiastic chatter. This was a perfect opportunity for the quartet to slip through and blend in. Dustin creaked the door open, watching the crowd grow bigger as more people filed out.

“And… blend.”

With that, the four exited the bathroom and casually walked into the middle of the crowd, keeping their eyes forward. “Well, shit, that worked.” Erica smirked and turned to Dustin.

“Course, it worked.” He smiled. “We just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes, and home sweet home, here we come.”

Steve tilted his head downward and moved his eyes to his friend. “Uh, Dustin?”

“What?”

“Yeah, we might not wanna go to your house.”

“Why?”

“Well, I might’ve told them your full name.”

Dustin widened his eyes, trying his best not to shout in a rage. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Dude, I was drugged.”

“So?”

“So?”

“So, you resist. You tough it out. You tough it out like a man.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s easy for you to say.”

“Guys?”

At Robin’s interruption, they focused their gaze forward and froze in their spots. Near the entrance of the mall, one of the guards that had spotted them at the back of the mall was now there, acting as mall security. He had just been talking to a regular citizen and bid them farewell before he slowly turned his head, catching sight of his targets.

“Abort.” Dustin spun around. “Abort.”

Without a second to waste, the group turned with him and rushed through the crowd. Robin led them all to the escalators, but with the mall closing for the night, they had been turned off. They stopped for a quick second to weigh their options, but when they saw the four Russians heading their way, Robin sat in the space between the two escalators, saving time by sliding down. Next down was Steve, then Dustin, then Erica.

At the Fun Fair, Karen and her family had exited the Gravitron behind Hopper and Joyce when a man could be seen screaming at them from the carnival games. She watched in confusion as Hopper grabbed Joyce by the hand and darted to the left. The two stopped for a second, looked at each other, and then dashed between two game stalls.

“They make an odd couple, don’t they?” Karen asked with narrowed eyes, clutching Holly’s hand beside her. She felt Ted come up behind her and place a hand on her shoulder.

“Well, it’s like they say, there’s someone for everyone.”

Karen glanced over at her husband before turning forward again, rolling her eyes with a deep sigh. Yes, there was someone for everyone. And of all people, her someone just so happened to be Ted Wheeler.

-------------------------------------------------

The quartet’s terrified hearts beat as one from where they hid. In all of the places to hide, they hid in the openness of the food court, finding coverage behind a counter of one of the restaurants. They could hear the Russians speaking to each other in their language as their footsteps scattered across the area.

Dustin had nearly fallen on his face on the way to his hiding place, resulting in a quiet squeak of his sneakers against the tile floor. He quickly tucked himself between Robin and Steve with Erica on the other side of the former. The four pulled their knees close to their chests and tried to regulate and quiet their breathing. The guards were drawing closer, their footsteps louder every time they stepped.

They had no plan, no chance for an escape, and no one to know where they were. They were ready to accept their fate, to let these men take them away or maybe flat out shoot them to death.

They all flinched at the sound of a car alarm echoing throughout the food court. There were Russian words of confusion, then a huge crash, and then silence. The four behind the counter slowly rose to their feet to get a look at what just happened.

The Russian guards laid on the ground, most likely dead, glass shards across the tiles, and the car that sat proudly in the middle of the mall now overturned against another food counter on the other side of the food court.

What just happened?

Slowly turning their heads upwards, they could see two very familiar people on the balcony. El and Doc stood side-by-side, their hands clasped together. The rest of the Party, plus Nancy and Jonathan, rushed up to their sides with looks of shock.

But Dustin could only grin at his saviors.

The two groups met each other in the middle of the food court with Doc and Mike helping Eleven walk. Dustin ran up to them with an excited laugh. “You flung that thing like a Hot Wheel!” He exclaimed and hugged the two girls tight, receiving the affection right back.

“Oh, my god, I am so happy to see you right now!” Doc pulled away enough to press a hard kiss to his cheek.

Erica rushed up to her brother. “Lucas?!”

“What are you doing here?!” He gawked.

“Ask them.” She jutted her thumb to her group. “It’s their fault.”

“True, yeah.” Steve nodded. “Totally true. It’s absolutely our fault.”

Robin looked back and forth between the car and the new group. “I don’t understand what happened to that car.”

“El and (Y/N) have superpowers.” Dustin pointed to them.

“I’m sorry?”

“Superpowers.” Steve waved. “They threw it with their minds. C’mon, catch up.”

“That’s El?” Erica pointed to said girl.

“Who’s El?” Robin questioned.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy spoke up. “Who are you?”

“I’m Robin. I work with Steve.”

Dustin excitedly pointed to Robin. “She cracked the top secret code.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “Which is how we found out about the Russians in the first place.”

“Russians?” Jonathan frowned. “Wait, what Russians?”

“The Russians!” He gestured to the car.

“Those were Russians?” Max raised her brows.

“Some of them.” Erica answered.

“What are you talking about?” Lucas asked.

“Didn’t you hear our code red?” Dustin looked to him.

“Yeah,” Mike spoke up. “I couldn’t understand half of what you were saying.”

“Goddamn low battery!”

Steve sighed exasperatedly. “How many times do I have to tell you with the low battery?”

“Well, everything worked out, didn’t it?”

“Worked out?” Erica turned to him. “We almost died.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t, did we?”

Doc let out a sharp exhale and waved her hands about. “Okay, wait. So, the Russians are the ones opening the gate? How?”

“Okay, so, they have this massive machine…”

His words drifted off in her ears, her senses picking up on a nearby presence. She shuddered and turned her body in search of it. When she did, she saw El standing a little ways away from the group, slowly limping forward.

“El?”

Doc’s call was muffled, the droning noise in El’s ears too powerful for her to make out any of the voices around her. She looked a mess, dark circles decorating the underside of her eyes and she was leaking blood from both her nostrils. As the droning grew louder, she quietly groaned and reached her hands up to her ears to block it out, but it only isolated it.

Doc rushed up to her just as she fell to the floor. “El!” She cried out, everyone following as Doc slowly turned her to lay on her back. “El?”

“What’s wrong with her?” Erica asked as she and Mike knelt down on her other side.

“El, hey, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?”

“My leg,” El groaned. “My leg.”

Suspicions rising, Doc hovered her hand over where El’s leg was, her entire hand painted in black veins. “I knew it.” She whispered and slowly lifted her pant leg to reveal her blood-soaked bandages. Jonathan and Nancy made quick work of peeling off the bandages. When it was exposed, everyone groaned in disgust at its worsened state. It didn’t make sense, they had disinfected the wound. But now, it had darkened and looked to be horribly infected, black veins growing from the wound.

“I know what this is.” Doc voiced.

“What? What is it?” Mike questioned.

Before she could answer, something began moving in her shin, under her skin. Everyone gasped in horror as El grunted in pain. Doc slowly hovered her hand over the wound again, the creature within quickly moving away, causing El to wail out. Mike quickly turned to her.

“El! El!”

When the creature jerked away again from Doc’s hand, El wailed again. “Shit.” Doc whispered.

“El! El, are you okay?!” Mike panicked, but she wasn’t answering. Everyone looked around at each other, completely clueless as to what to do. “El! El! El!”

The creature moved again, causing El to throw her head back and let out a scream of agony.

—————————————

Taglist: @yurtletheturtlehenderson @alexa-j-f @inthemourninglight @that-one-multifandom-chick @ariyabella @lonelywitchv2 @frogserotonin @mymomsdisappointment @hewwofriends @billieissad @get0ut0fmyr00m @143kae @satsuri3su @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived @unordinary-simp @raquel12 @roman0ffsheart @jjjennyxii @hereiamhereigo @wizardsgrace @meowiemari

[tact-and-impulse]

At Arm's Length Chapter 22

Real men talk about their feelings. This took some time because I wanted to get the dialogue right, and I'm happy with it! FF.net, AO3

Chapter 22: To Stand Again

“Hadome!” The outcry was stopped short, as Yahiko buckled under the offensive strike, forced to retreat. “Tch, damn!”

“Language.” Koshijiro gently admonished. He pressed the shinai further, glancing across the boy’s shoulder. “This attempt was better, but what went wrong this time?”

“I didn’t have enough support for my hands. It’s my core, isn’t it?”

“Yes, correct. You can increase your exercises by twenty repetitions.”

“Fifty more!” He was certainly ambitious.

“As long as you don’t injure yourself.”

“Fine. I’m still not there yet.”

“But in just one hour, your reaction time has cut in half. Keep practicing after you come back.” The boy had offered to help Tae and Tsubame, with purchasing supplies. From what he said, Tae had turned to work, setting up in a temporary location while paying for the Akabeko’s rebuilding.

They tidied up the dojo, before sitting outside to cool off. Yahiko gulped his barley tea, and in that quiet moment, he spoke unprompted. “I get it now.”

“Hm?”

“Well…I’ve been taught by Kaoru, then Kenshin, and now you. And I get the differences.” He seemed slightly embarrassed but explained. “You ask me what I want to accomplish first, and if I need to do something else instead. During practice, you ask me where the issue is, and once I figure it out, we fix it. Kaoru does that too, she leads me to the goal and she encourages me a lot. Kenshin is the quietest, but he always gets to the point and it feels rewarding when he approves. Everyone teaches differently.”

“That’s right, and you’ll find your own way of instruction, when the time comes. Emulate what you admire, and don’t be afraid to adjust your methods. Teaching is a matter of approach.”

“And it depends on the student too.”

“Indeed. You have to know what works for the student and what doesn’t.”

“So, could you tell what works for me?”

Koshijiro paused, considering. “Your judgment already surpasses older boys, because you’ve seen battles of high intensity and caliber. With such a quick grasp, you understand how to improve, and I’m glad Kaoru’s given you the opportunity to reflect and analyze. You’ve spent a relatively short time in the dojo, so you respond well to clear instructions. And of course, well-deserved praise. I think it is the right balance.”

Yahiko smiled. “Was that how you taught Kaoru?”

“I would say so. She appreciated the history of kenjutsu, and I would weave it into teaching points. Kaoru has an excellent intuition and unlike most, she could give it the right words. Even when she was a little girl, she would tell me what she wanted to focus on in practice.” He thought of her smaller form, cheeks puffed out as she declared her newest aspiration. The memory was sweet, ruined by the present anxiety, a dark cloud on the horizon.

The conversation had to end there, given the time. However, Yahiko stalled at the gate. “Kamiya-san? Is there anything else I can do here?”

“No, it’s alright. You can go into town. Takani-san must have finished her examination, and I’ll take over in her stead.”

“Misao and Aoshi are still out, huh? How long does it take to plan a boat trip anyway?”

Actually, Makimachi had confided that they were going to train. She was looking particularly enthusiastic, while Shinomori was stoic as ever. “They’re doing a thorough job, and we’ll trust in them. I’ll see you later, Yahiko.” With one last wave to each other, Koshijiro closed the gate.

He went to Himura’s door, and Takani quickly emerged. The dark circles under her eyes were fainter, but she was still taut as a bowstring. “I’m running late!” The number of clinic patients had increased, not just from the attacks, but also the change in weather.

“Dr. Gensai will understand.”

“I’ve always been punctual, it’ll hurt my pride otherwise. Now, there’s tea and broth that can be reheated for Ken-san if he feels like drinking again. It’ll sustain him but if he doesn’t eat, I’ll have to resort to drastic measures.” She frowned.

“As always, thank you for your hard work.”

“I’ll be back in the afternoon.” With that brisk promise, she was off.

And Koshijiro entered Himura’s room.

His position had not changed: sitting against the wall, the chained reverse blade clutched tightly in his hands. Koshijiro sat across from him, watching for any movement. Again, his eyes were resigned and lifeless.

Koshijiro cleared his throat. “The weather is nice today. If you don’t mind, I’ll open the window.” The fresh air swept in, and he realized how stagnant it had been in this room. But if he was going to talk to Himura, they could not be in darkness.

He glanced at the other man, who had turned his face away from the sunshine pouring in. The abundance of red hair had fallen like a curtain.

“I will close it afterwards, but if you are cold, please let me know.” He didn’t expect a response, but then, a single word floated up.

“Why?”

“You asked me that last time, but I’m not sure how to answer. Are you able to tell me more?” Koshijiro kept his voice low, neutral, without judgment.

An exhale. “Why are you not angry with this one?”

“Angry?” He was genuinely surprised. “No, Himura-san, not at all. You fought hard to protect Kaoru.”

“Not enough. This one couldn’t.” Himura retreated further, curling into a ball.

Koshijiro remained quiet for a few moments before continuing. “And you are lost within yourself.”

Chain links rattled and the red curtain shifted. Himura was looking right at him, in startled affirmation.

He pressed on. “You are a swordsman, defined by your abilities and successes. That was unfortunately amplified by the war; your superiors in the Ishin Shishi were enraptured by your skills, at the cost of overlooking the man behind them. But I’m not going to analyze the fight. I am here to find you.”

Himura took a shaky breath, blinking against the light. “As Hitokiri Battousai, this one committed countless murders. This one has tried to atone, and it is not enough. Whatever is left of this one is unworthy.”

“That is not true.” Koshijiro severely said, but Himura’s gaze had already drifted into vacancy. His sense of shame ran deep, entangled in his spirit. In this precarious state, it was too dangerous to push him.

It was excruciatingly silent until Makimachi and Shinomori returned. He let them take over, while he headed into town. He initially intended to speak to Saito, but he was informed by the front that the man was caught in administrative meetings for the day, saddled with acting chief inspector responsibilities.

He walked towards the office, expecting a mountain of paperwork on his desk. However, when he entered the room, his space was free of clutter. Instead, the rookies were barely visible under a heavier than usual workload. Shinichi spotted him first, dropping his pen as he hastily stood. The others followed suit, greeting in a staggered chorus.

“Officer Kamiya!”

“Hello, everyone.”

“You’re not back yet, are you?”

“It’s too soon!”

He hesitated. “I was…running an errand. What have you been assigned?” He approached the nearest desk and read his name on the first stack. “These are mine?”

“We asked for them!”

“You don’t have to worry at all, alright?”

“Take it easy, Officer Kamiya!”

Their kindness touched him. “Thank you. I hope not to inconvenience you for much longer.” When this was over, he would have to treat them heartily.

And at the last minute, he decided to carry out another task. Gritting his teeth, Koshijiro began writing on a fresh sheet of paper. He certainly was not begging Hiko, and he doubted he’d even receive an answer. It was only a brief message that Himura was injured, which was the truth. But after the envelope slipped into the mailbox, he felt a twinge of uncertainty.

Most likely, the letter will not be read in time.

That evening, Himura did finish a bowl of broth, which was a small victory. Despite his anguish, he wasn’t actively giving up. They held onto that knowledge, as they reviewed the plan just outside his room. Takani was already prepared, her stock of medical supplies fully replenished. Meanwhile, Shinomori and Makimachi provided their updates.

From her pocket, the Oniwaban leader brought out a list with a flourish. “Here we go! This is the remainder of our inventory, including fuel and food rations. Everything’s been tucked away in the Heishin Products Company basement.”

“Wasn’t it there to begin with?” Yahiko pointed out.

“Well, the police confiscated most of the goods but we deserve some compensation, right? And I’m still waiting for my new kunai, Jiiya’s sending them from Kyoto. They’re a different alloy, so they’ll pierce better…” She trailed off. “Oh, sorry! Basically, we’re covered as soon as we have a destination!”

Shinomori shook his head. “And we have not determined that yet.”

It was to be expected, it had only been a day since they obtained their lead. But Koshijiro was impatient. He let out a breath. “Then, I will have to ask the assistant chief inspector.”

The timing couldn’t have been better, because there was a call from outside. “It’s Saito. Open up.”

Takani volunteered, though she returned with an additional guest in tow. She seemed much more at ease around the presence of Tokio. “Thank you for the mochi, we’ll enjoy them. There’s leftover tea for both of you.”

“It’s kind of you to offer, but we won’t be long.” Tokio answered, as Saito grunted and took a seat in their circle. His gaze flickered to the closed door but he didn’t acknowledge it otherwise.

“I’ll make this quick. First, we’ve narrowed our search to the southern waters. There are a few small islands, mainly uninhabited, that look promising. We will continue to gather intel.”

“Let us help you.” Shinomori uttered, and Makimachi jumped in as well.

“Please! Espionage and subterfuge are our specialties.”

“Give us the morning, to tie up any loose ends. Then, you can offer your services.” He bluntly said, turning once more to Koshijiro. “Meanwhile, your naval friend is assembling his own team, and they will arrive at the end of the week, with two armed ships. Congratulations, Kamiya.” Despite the monotonous delivery, the news was welcome.

“Hayashi is a good friend, and I look forward to seeing him.”

Saito curtly nodded. “Second, Tokio can watch your home while you’re gone.”

“Thank you.” Koshijiro said, surprised.

“It’s no trouble.” Tokio gave a gracious smile. “In fact, it’s the least I can do. The boys will have to come with me, but we won’t leave any trace that we were here.”

“And lastly,” The third matter had to be unpleasant, because Saito spat the words. “I had to negotiate terms with Shanghai. They will increase security and naval patrols…but if Yukishiro turns up at their port or is found on Chinese land, they’ll keep him and turn over all other non-Chinese companions to us. If he’s arrested in Japan, they can pursue extradition after we try him in our court.”

It sounded perfectly acceptable to Koshijiro, though Saito appeared livid at the possibility that Yukishiro could be swiped away from the end of his katana. Well, he wouldn’t protest; it would be motivating. “So, we’ll devote everything we have to their location.”

“With absolute swiftness.” The assistant chief inspector declared, and he led his wife to the front door. “When I give notice, all of you have to be prepared to fight.”

The emphasis wasn’t lost on them, nor the final glance to the unseen Himura.

Yahiko straightened up. “We will. For sure.”

They turned in for the night, and Koshijiro stared at his ceiling in deep thought. Today’s attempt had not been successful, and there was no room for further missteps. Tomorrow, the discussion would have to lay everything bare. His thoughts folded and refolded, as he considered Himura. Not the assassin, not the wanderer. The man himself.

Just before falling asleep, he knew. In order to learn, there first had to be a solid foundation. And Koshijiro was a teacher.

***

At dawn, he woke on his own and he felt tranquility settle over him like an outer robe. Not wanting to wake anyone else, he quietly made his way to Himura’s room. Shinomori was sitting just inside, head lowered, though he did start when Koshijiro loomed over him. Then, he nodded towards the sleeping form of Himura, back still against the wall. After a moment, he wordlessly left, leaving the two of them alone. Koshijiro drew closer, taking the position directly across Himura.

He sat in meditation, for close to an hour, before Himura finally stirred. His shoulders lifted a fraction, and through his bangs, his eyes slowly opened.

“Good morning.” Koshijiro greeted. “Would you like tea? I can make some.”

A verbal response never came, though in a very slight motion, he shook his head.

“That’s alright. Let me know if you change your mind. It’s a new day.” He stood and opened the window, allowing crisp air to flow in. “And so, we will start over.”

“…how?” Ah, so his interest was piqued.

Koshijiro steeled himself; this was the point of no return, he would have to choose every word carefully. “Himura-san, until now, you’ve been motivated by guilt and shame. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t feel a sense of remorse, but in excess, it consumes you. I know.” He said, his voice raw. “I understand. So, believe me when I say that it cannot be everything you feel. You’ve stayed with us for months. Was it only because of guilt?”

“No!” Himura vehemently answered. It was the strongest response he had since Kaoru was kidnapped. A good sign.

“Then, what have you felt? You can start from the beginning, when you first met Kaoru.”

For a long while, Himura did not speak. And then, he haltingly said. “It was...the end of winter. This one wandered to Tokyo. A chilly evening. In the darkness, this one heard a voice. Kaoru-dono, calling the name of Battousai. A coincidence, she did not know at the time. She was defending Kamiya Kasshin’s reputation. It was the Hiruma brothers, and you know that part of the story, Kamiya-dono.”

“Yes, I do.”

“This one...was very grateful to Kaoru-dono. And touched by her words, her devotion to Kamiya Kasshin and the ideal of a world where swords were not used to kill. This one thought it wouldn’t be bad, to stay for a while. To watch her regain students, to build that better world. And you returned the following week.”

“I apologize again for trying to punch you.”

Himura didn’t smile or laugh, but there was a flicker of light in his gaze, a spark amidst the emptiness. “It was this one’s fault too, for not being clear. Still, this one felt...comfortable. Useful, to cook meals and do laundry and clean the house. Kaoru-dono was always kind, talking about the day and the townsfolk. Who to buy groceries from, who was friendly. And with you, she was much happier. This one can tell you are close.” He paused. “Then, we met Yahiko.”

“That’s right. I understand that you convinced him to learn Kamiya Kasshin. I admit, I wasn’t so sure of him at first. But he’s become more mature and disciplined, a good student. What did you see in him? How did you meet?”

“He stole this one’s wallet. But…this one knew right away, he had the potential of a swordsman. This one went to help him from the yakuza, so he could become a student of the Kamiya dojo. And he has become much stronger, in body and spirit.”

“He has and I’m glad you brought him here. He is vastly different from the wayward pickpocket, and his future is brighter, now that he understands the weight and responsibility of the sword that protects.” Koshijiro then prompted. “He wasn’t the only young man who’s changed.”

“Sanosuke. His first wish was to fight this one, as a representative of the Sekihoutai. Since that day, his boldness has not wavered at all. But instead of thirst for battle, he raises his fists for the group. He is a loyal friend.”

Hopefully, Sagara was faring well. Was he out of trouble at least? Had he reunited with his family? “Yes, he certainly is. Impatient, perhaps, but in the hour of need, he will never abandon the ones he cares for.” He had just finished the sentence, when the door suddenly opened.

Takani’s eyes were round with astonishment at the two of them, the tray in her hands shaking slightly. “I heard voices and I thought…never mind, both of you can keep going. It’s obvious you’re not finished yet. But you have to eat something! Raid the kitchen if you don’t want mochi and tea, the house is all yours for today.” Immediately, she set down the breakfast and as she hurried out, she looked to Koshijiro. Her gaze was misty in gratitude, and she mouthed a thank you. She closed the door with a rattle, and faintly, Koshijiro thought he heard Makimachi’s questioning voice and Takani’s brisk response, before silence returned again.

“That was surprisingly good timing.” He poured the tea and slid a cup to Himura. “She must be headed for the clinic. Takani-san is becoming an excellent doctor; Dr. Gensai never fails to tell me how much she’s progressed.”

“It is her way to atone.” Himura softly said. “To use her skills to heal others instead of leading them to the grave.”

Koshijiro sensed they were treading too close to the dark precipice again and he hastily moved on. “It wasn’t long after that, the Maekawa dojo incident occurred. I remember you offered to accept the challenge instead, and how you defeated Raijuuta for Yutaro’s sake.”

“It was all this one could do.” He deflected, but his eyes met Koshijiro’s. “Kaoru-dono has embraced the role of head instructor.”

“She has, and I’m incredibly proud of her.” And he was anxious for her to be safe, without a single lasting injury. The idea of her in danger was gnawing at him; he quickly pivoted to their discussion. “What happened afterwards…? Ah, then we met Sagara-san’s friend. I’m not sure whether he enjoyed our get-together at the dojo.”

“He was intending to bomb the Department of Internal Affairs.”

That was news to Koshijiro. “I didn’t know about this.” He took one of the mochi, biting into it. The slight sweetness filled his mouth and he carefully pushed the tray closer to Himura.

“This one did not want to wake anyone else, but Sanosuke and Tsunan were already leaving. The latter still held a grudge against the Meiji government, and Sanosuke helped in stopping him.” Himura quietly explained. “So, no harm occurred.”

“Thank you. You protected the city’s peace.” He did vaguely recall a rumor about a break-in, that had paled in comparison to the ensuing events. “I believe Saito-san appeared not long after.”

Himura slowly nodded. “To recruit this one.”

“However, you didn’t want to break your vow.”

“…no. But this one did not know how to decline. As a hitokiri, and then on the front lines, this one followed orders without protest. But…with everyone���s support, this one felt like he could refuse. Until the late minister was killed.”

“And so, you changed your mind.”

“This one could not stand by, to allow Shishio to bring destruction and death.”

“I agree. It would not be like you at all. That was why none of us were surprised. We were sad for you, but we understood.” Koshijiro’s ears burned at the confession. Was that right to say? Yes, sad had to be the appropriate label for how they felt, how he felt at the time.

“In Kyoto, this one…did not expect to see Kaoru-dono and Yahiko.”

“Yes, they followed you.” There was another unbearably long pause. And Koshijiro grasped for a thought. “Because we care for you and worry about you.” It was embarrassing, but he had to keep going. “You were doing the right thing, to stop Shishio, but we would never let you succumb into the depths. To remind you of who you are, the man who belonged at the Kamiya dojo.”

“Belonged?” Himura repeated, his eyes questioning.

“You still do.” Koshijiro gruffly said. “It was not the same without you. Emptier, colder, without your presence. While I was watching the house, there were inquiries about where you’d gone and where Kaoru and Yahiko were. As for myself, I had to clean the shed as a distraction from loneliness. I was very glad when I finally received the telegram of your victory.”

With so much talking, his mouth was dry. He gulped down the lukewarm tea, trying to dampen the flush of discomfort. If he had his handkerchief, he’d wipe his forehead. Talking about his feelings was not his strength. Absolutely not. But for Himura, who needed to find himself again, this was necessary. It was the most important thing right now.

“You did visit every week. It must have been tiring to travel.”

“I was only tired when I returned to the empty house. Otherwise, seeing everyone and observing your progress made the frequent trips worth it.”

“Kyoto holds many memories.” Then, without prompting, Himura said. “But the exercises, the training, the rebuilding and the festival…those are what this one wants to remember about the city.”

Koshijiro carefully looked at him. Perhaps, the darkness had receded a touch, but he was not free of it yet. A little further, as if he was turning, at the base of a long set of steps. Koshijiro offered his hand, fingers splayed, and caught the flicker of Himura’s upward gaze. Better. “And when we were home, your true desire was granted. Kaoru welcomed you, just like this.”

“She did.” His voice was barely a whisper. “And it was peaceful again, until Enishi arrived. This one did not mean to hide the past, but it was painful to share.”

He quickly emphasized. “None of us blame you. We were only worried about you. It is why we fought the other lackeys, and we were glad to lend our support to you.” They had reached the present, at the steepest obstacle; there was no point in reminding Himura of that horrendous night. Koshijiro hesitated, staring at the sakabato. “Now…you have locked up your sword. Why did you do that?”

“Because this one hasn’t found it yet. The answer…” He gripped the sakabato in fierce desperation. “What is the answer to atone for all of this one’s sins? The vow this one made…it was not enough…”

“And you’re right.” At this concession, he glanced up and Koshijiro explained. “You traveled all of Japan, with your oath to never kill again with the sword. But those words carried an assassin’s regret as well. Like the chains between your hands, that mindset shackled you to your past.”

“So, was this one wrong the whole time?”

Whether Himura was right or wrong, that was not for Koshijiro to decide. And perhaps, not even for humans to judge. But the answer was elsewhere entirely, at the top of the foundation they’d been building over the course of the morning. This was the true meaning of their discussion.

“When we first met, I was…blinded by my own assumptions and stubbornly stuck to them. And I only want what is best for Kaoru. But, I was misguided.” Koshijiro bowed his head. He wasn’t certain whether he was choosing the right words, and it was painfully difficult. Here in this moment, he was going to be completely honest. “I understand what she saw in you. You are a selfless man, who has been attentive to the needs of other people. You are always diligent and willing to lend your sword if a fight is unavoidable. You may feel mired in darkness, and yet, with every action over these months, your heart has never wavered. So, what is your answer? It is a new vow.”

“A new…vow.” Himura echoed. The sun had moved with the day’s passing, and the light cast over his face. His hair and eyes shone brighter; had the spark lit anew?

“We have talked for a long time and I already know what it is, but I’m not going to tell you.” At Himura’s confused expression, he clarified. “This is something you need to realize for yourself, to form in your own words. The reason, that Himura Kenshin should live for. Again and again through the memories we have gone over, you have demonstrated it. All you need to do is speak it.”

And with that, Koshijiro brushed himself off and stood. “The tea is cold and it’s nearly time for lunch. I’m going to the kitchen so I’ll be right back.” It was best that Himura have a moment to think anyway, and he wasn’t concerned that the man would try to disappear again.

As for himself, he felt as if he’d undergone a purification ceremony. Exhausted, but with a sense of inner resolve. A satisfying and clean feeling. He had to smile wryly at that.

***

However, as soon as he approached the stove, there was a call from the gate. He hurried outside, and almost bumped into the smaller figure racing across the front yard. Yahiko was trying to catch his breath, the hilts of two shinai peeking over his shoulder, and he grasped Koshijiro’s arm.

“Kamiya-san, come help!” He urged. “There’s trouble in town!”

“Then, lead the way.”

His gaze darted towards the house. “And Kenshin?”

“He’s better but not ready yet. You can explain everything to me.”

The boy began to run and Koshijiro increased his pace as well, as the words spilled. “I was with Tsubame, we were buying stuff for their new place. We were talking because she seemed down and…well, anyway, I was coming back here when I heard the Armstrong cannon!”

It had to be Kujiranami. “He must have broken out of his cell.”

“Yeah, and we need to stop him! I grabbed my shinai and one for you.”

“Thank you, Yahiko. What about the others? Shinomori-san, Makimachi-san?”

Yahiko shook his head. “After breakfast, Misao said they were going to join up with Saito’s team. They think they’ve found a specific island.”

Koshijiro’s heart jumped. “Really? Where? Which one?”

“I don’t know. She was already sprinting off and of course, Aoshi was totally silent.”

“No, it’s fine. I should have expected as much.” Still, he hoped the lead would be fruitful.

“Um…there’s something else. I told Tsubame. Kind of.” He puffed, more exertion than anything. “Like, I said we’d all be together again soon. I know we weren’t supposed to reveal the truth until this is over but she really looked sad, and I wanted to cheer her up.” His expression was guilty, but Koshijiro only gave a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry. The secret is making us all feel guilty, and the intention was never to distress anyone. But we are close to our goal and I will bear responsibility later. For now, let’s focus on neutralizing the threat.”

At this point, they were a few blocks away from the station. However, smoke was billowing in its direction and the bells for the fire brigade were clanging. And then, there was a familiar explosive boom. It was the middle of the day, and people were confused. Some were standing still, others hastily retreating into their homes. No one was moving fast enough.

The scream of his name drew Koshijiro’s attention, and he locked eyes with Shinichi, who was urgently waving. Koshijiro beckoned him off the main road. Yahiko quietly passed over the shinai, while the young man delivered the report in gasps.

“The cannon-armed guy! He’s escaped!” Shinichi rambled, eyes wild. “The chief hasn’t recovered and the assistant chief had to leave on urgent business. The station’s blown up. A few units have gone to the army and headquarters, but it’ll be another hour before they get here. We don’t have a chain of command, everyone’s going to die-”

“Officer Shinichi, take deep breaths.” He laid his hand upon the young man’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. Now, when your mind is calm, you can think clearly.”

“Y-yes. I’m sorry, it’s just that this situation is terrible…we need to evacuate the civilians!”

“Agreed. Who’s here?”

“Our unit is on this street, but I don’t know about anyone else.”

“That will be enough.” Koshijiro glanced over the rooftops. A distant crash made him grimace, and he said. “Time is short. We’ll have to act fast, so gather the others.”

At Shinichi’s whistle, the remaining fourteen arrived within the minute. Their identical expressions were of nervousness and concern. Koshijiro split them into groups of three. “Kujiranami is a dangerous individual, not only because of his strength and weapon, but in his rage, he will not hold himself back. He has no targets in mind, so he will indiscriminately point the cannon anywhere. Our priority is evacuation! Fujisawa, Ikehira, Kato: the north. Maeda, Yoshihara, Abe: the west. Kobayashi, Tanaka, Shimizu: the east. Aoki, Tomita, Eguchi: the south. And for Shinichi, Nakamura, and Hoshi: fortify the end of the street. Gather any materials, recruit volunteers. Kujiranami will not go further than here.”

“That’s right!” Yahiko declared. “Kamiya-san and I will stop him! We can use the buildings as cover. We know the area, and together, we can flank him! We’ve got tactics!”

“…Huh?” The officers were taken aback.

“Yahiko’s right. We may not have artillery or manpower, but we have our wits and skill. Most importantly, we have our composure. And…it’s only fitting.” Koshijiro gripped his shinai. “A one-armed opponent for a one-armed criminal.”

“Kamiya-san…”

“Damn, that was good.”

“I’d give my life today, I’m not afraid anymore!”

“No one’s going to die today!” Yahiko admonished them. He tipped his chin to the bright blue sky and roared. “Let’s go!”

Everyone couldn’t help crying out, and then, they separated. People quickly filed out of the vicinity, thanks to the confident directions of the officers. Yahiko scrambled up to a rooftop for a vantage point, though Koshijiro repeatedly told him to be careful. “If he sees you, come down immediately.”

“Got it. He’s still headed this way, they’re trying to shoot at him, but he isn’t affected at all. His cannon looks a little different. Did he always have a bayonet attached to it?”

“That doesn’t sound like the same weapon he was arrested with.”

“How’d he get something like that?”

Koshijiro internally cursed. “It must have been from the prison. I remember when I had my inspection; there’s a room with military grade weapons meant to suppress riots, per the chief jailer’s proud request. Knowing Yukishiro, he must have designed the metal arm to be compatible with other machinery.”

“Yahiko-kun!” They turned instinctively, finding Tsubame standing by the barricade of crates and planks. She must have returned. Her uncertain voice floated towards them. “You’re fighting?”

“I have to. This is what I’ve decided, to protect people with Kamiya Kasshin. So, don’t cry. Like I said earlier, we’re all going to see each other again.”

She stared for a moment, her face crestfallen before she clasped her hands together. “Then…I’m going to the Kamiya dojo! I will find Kenshin-san and tell him everything so he can help!”

“Thanks, Tsubame! Please talk to him!”

“Y-yes! I will!” Her eyes were fearful, but her head was held high as she ran.

“She’s become stronger as well.” Koshijiro noted.

“I believe in her. Kenshin too.” Yahiko grinned at him. “And of course, the both of us.”

Then, the clamor intensified, and the next explosion was much closer. The interval between blasts was shorter than previously, though not as strong. And then, a shadow appeared. Outlined by the glow of flames, he was seething, each step thunderous. If they failed, Kujiranami would rampage throughout the city, unchecked in his destruction.

Koshijiro stood in the middle of the street, lifting the shinai in a neutral position. He inhaled, filling his lungs, and shouted. The kiai was like crackling energy from his head to his feet, and he lowered his stance, connecting to the immovable earth.

Now, he could see the new cannon-arm. Above the bayonet, the barrel was smaller, more suitable for the chain of ammunition draped over Kujiranami’s torso. Grenades. That explained the changes in reload time and force. “He’s firing grenades. These attacks will be faster and more numerous.” He explained to Yahiko.

“We gotta charge him.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“I’ll take the right, Kamiya-san.” The side with the weapon.

“Yahiko-”

“You’re still recovering and I’m a smaller target. I’ll be okay!”

There was no time to protest, because the man was picking up speed. Silently, he trusted Yahiko as they closed the distance. Swerving around, he aimed for the back of Kujiranami’s head. The blow reverberated through Koshijiro’s arm, but other than a pained grunt, Kujiranami shrugged it off. He swung the cannon and there was a glimpse of dark hair whirling away. Yahiko was barely dodging, but he was holding his own. A rivulet of blood trickled from the seam where metal attached to skin.

The hiss was the only warning, and Koshijiro crossed the nearest threshold, taking cover as a grenade exploded in the street. With the amount of ammunition Kujiranami bore, there was no possibility of wasting all his shots. But if the cannon was stuck, where the grenades fed into the barrel…that would eliminate the immediate danger.

“Battousai!” Kujiranami was still fixated on Himura.

Koshijiro rushed out, but the man didn’t seem to register his presence, continuing to trudge forward. Yahiko emerged as well, saying. “We both landed hits, but he doesn’t seem affected at all.”

“What we should target is the loading mechanism of the cannon. There.” Koshijiro pointed the end of his shinai to Kujiranami’s upper arm. Since they were behind him, they could see where the grenades inserted into the underside of the weapon. “I can provide a distraction. Yahiko, can you find a way to jam the cannon?”

“I can do it! I already have an idea.” He nodded confidently.

“Good. I believe in you as well.” Then, after ensuring Yahiko had hidden in a nearby building, Koshijiro called out. “Kujiranami! You will never fight Hitokiri Battousai again!”

Fortunately, this caught his attention. He turned slowly, his face distorted in a sneer. “What?”

“The assassin died with the old era. You are clinging to the past, not even to a ghost, but to the time when your arm was cut off.”

“By Battousai!”

“Because he did not want to take your life! For ten years, you have drowned in resentment and misery, for the sole reason that you were not given a warrior’s death. You unfairly blame Himura-san, and you are wrong.”

Kujiranami snarled, approaching closer. “How would you understand? You lost your left, not even your dominant hand!”

Koshijiro bellowed. “But you’re not the only one who lost something and you’re certainly not the only person who’s ever suffered! Tell me, what have you done, other than cause more suffering?!”

The cannon-arm violently swung, and he was forced to retreat. He ducked, the grenade firing into the rooftop overhead. Dust, splinters, and heat washed over him. With the shinai, he charged once more. This time, he made it obvious, and as expected, he was parried by the metal barrel. The bayonet was now below Koshijiro’s hand, aiming directly at his heart. Only the length of his arm was keeping Kujiranami at bay.

The other man’s expression had become impassive. He seemed less like a raging beast, more human. Was he regaining his sanity? “Why aren’t you bitter? You were a samurai once, weren’t you?”

“Those days are over, and even so, I am not bitter because I know pride is nothing without honor. Do you truly believe you’ve acted as honorably as a samurai should? If you are able to see what you’ve done, you can stop yourself.”

Something in his expression gave, but that hope was short-lived. “…I can’t. Never. This is what I have left of my strength!” The cannon lowered, and Koshijiro’s knees bent further. The bayonet slid, and sharp agony welled at his chest. But he couldn’t disengage.

“Hadome!” A cry resounded, and Yahiko’s short spiky hair appeared. The backs of his hands were catching the bayonet’s base, preventing advancement. His core was strong. Every word was a struggle, yet brimming with willpower. “I won’t let you hurt anyone else! Protecting people with the sword…that’s my strength. That’s how I want to live in the new era. Just like my friends! Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu: Hawatari!”

And then, he launched at Kujiranami and swung at his underarm. That was a weak spot for anyone, and the man recoiled. The bamboo had snapped with the amount of force, but that must have been the plan all along. The loading mechanism was perfectly lined up, and Yahiko inserted the broken hilt within. A harsh grinding noise followed.

“No! No!” Kujiranami howled. His other fist lashed out, knocking Koshijiro in the ribs. He was thrown aside, impacting the ground on his wounded shoulder. Stars of pain lit in his vision, as Kujiranami reached for Yahiko-

A flash of red descended from the sky. The blade shone on the opposite side of the sword, as nine attacks were unleashed in quick succession on Kujiranami. The three-point landing was unsteady, but Himura managed to right himself. In the daylight, he looked thinner and the dark circles under his eyes hadn’t fully receded. But he was here. He had found his reason to stand again.

Relief flooded Koshijiro.

Yahiko swayed on his feet. “Kenshin!”

But Kujiranami remained standing, and he attempted to fire, the grinding worse. With a hoarse shout, Himura soared into the air and struck again, this time at the seam. The cannon clanked, severed from its owner, and dropped uselessly in the dirt. Kujiranami stared at it, then the stump of his arm. Unwrapped, the skin was rubbed raw and irritated, not like a decade-old wound.

“For a second time, I’ve been defeated.” He uttered.

Himura replied. “Even if you wish it, this one will not kill you. You may not have your right hand, but you have a warrior’s fighting spirit. That is how you’ve endured the past ten years, a strength that will surpass any weapon. Please, turn yourself in and continue to live in peace.”

He bowed his head, but the tears on his face couldn’t be concealed. “You, and Kamiya, and…who is this boy?” He looked to where he was protectively standing over Koshijiro.

“I’m Myojin Yahiko, of the Myojin family! My father was a samurai.” Surely, Yahiko’s father would be proud at the burning fire in his son’s gaze.

“A worthy showdown then, and you all spoke honestly. Thank you…and I surrender.” At these words, the officers jumped in with handcuffs and chains. Kujiranami was docile, with one lingering glance at the cannon before it was confiscated. He nodded at Koshijiro, who responded in kind.

He had mustered the energy to sit, and he exhaled. “Welcome back, Himura-san.”

“Forgive this one, Kamiya-dono.” His voice still sounded weak, but he limped towards them. “This one was nearly too late.”

“It’s alright. Have you found what you were seeking?”

“Yes. And thank you.” Abruptly, his knee buckled and he fell to the ground but his fleeting smile was of relief. Koshijiro dragged his weary body next to him and Yahiko collapsed at his other side. They must have made quite a picture, laying on their backs together and though too tired to speak, they stayed in that little huddle.

A screech of braking wheels, and the slam of a door. Leaping over the barricade, Shinomori rushed towards them, with Saito and Makimachi in his wake. Medical bag in her grasp, Takani was squeezing through a gap, Tsubame closely at her heels. Ah, good. Everyone was accounted for…except one person. And they would see her very soon. Koshijiro closed his eyes, and the last thing he registered before exhaustion set in was the city’s budding applause.

[venturingvietnam2024]

#2 The storm before the calm.

Let’s be honest, after spending 2.5 hours moving through immigration (where the line I happened to queue within, out of the 16 available, then had two other queues merge into it) with 1000 other people in very little air conditioning, and then catching a taxi through a city of 15 million people with about 8 million motor bikes, by the time I arrived at the hostel, I was questioning what the hell I had got myself into! However, to be expecting a shared room with bunk beds and get a private double with ensuite was absolute bliss!

This morning, I was apprehensive. I don’t really know if solo travel is brave, naive or courageous.. I think the three hold little difference to be honest. But as an olive skinned, blonde haired human wearing a backpack in Ho Chi Minh City - there was no need to tattoo tourist to my forehead, it was obvious. And at least for me, it was nerve wracking to step out into a city I’d never been, with people who speak little English and a sensory overload you’re not quite used to. I’ll forever hold a gratitude that I do have a sense of direction and can generally find my bearings pretty well, that and the idea that no matter the internal worries I hold, I’m generally pretty able to just push on and see how things go. The first mission, was quite literally as simple as crossing the street. I determined that the strategy in a city with very intriguing road laws, is to just walking confidently like you know what you’re doing and cross as quick as you can, that or ghost a local who actually knows what their doing. 100% success rate so far. I wandered down to the Ben Thai Markets where the countless aisles of food, clothing and fashion stalls were present. To be honest, the conversion on the Vietnamese dong still has me. 200,000 dong is about $20, but having a note worth 1,000,000 dong just feels very strange! From here I had an authentic coffee, and went full tourist mode on an hop on hop off bus. It weaved its way through the streets to the financial district and I saw; the People’s Council, The City Hall, Post Office and Notre Damn. It was a beautiful area with grand buildings and wandering the area was great. I also had lunch at an apartment building of cafes.. it was very cool with pretty views too. After lunch, the confidence was building and I was starting to embrace the hustle and bustle of it all. Though in 36 degrees with the element of humidity, it was hot! Fortunately, I’ve learnt from the 2022 Greece sunburn saga, and I’ve been plenty SunSmart and consumed lots of water #goals. A little late arvo rest before I meet my tour group tonight and begin two weeks of exploring the east coast! You are beautiful Ho Chi Minh! Even if my body senses may never feel calm whilst I’m here!

Written Thursday March 21st 4pm

[yoongiblunt]

I’ve been running my mouth a lot lately

I kinda closed up hard for a few months

Folks commented on hour quiet I got

I didn’t really notice, I’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff and sort of stopped going out/stopped being active in various friend groups/stopped throwing parties and bar crawling

A lot of people just sort of assumed I was doing really well w my sobriety tho and left me to it apparently

Mic told me that was sort of what the vibe felt like a couple of days ago when she asked me why I wasn’t hanging out so often

I really just haven’t had the time/energy with all of the constant changes I’ve been going thru

But over the last few weeks I’ve been having a surprising up swing, but I think it may just be mania. I find myself saying things that I normally wouldn’t say, telling people information that I usually would keep to myself? Tonight I jumped forward to warn a girl that the guy she was talking to was the same one who hit me up after I was literally told by a 17 year old that he was flirting with her. Now, usually, I would tell the girl in private and let her know, but in a bathroom full of girls I overheard her while I was pissing and got up and literally opened my stall door while I pulled my pants up to tell her to ghost him.

On top of that, earlier tonight one of the guys in my friends band told me that they were not thinking of going with the new bassist that they picked up, who is also a guy that works at my bar. He soft offered me a spot on the forgotten few, though it’s been soft offered to me multiple times. Obviously we hung out and talked a bit, but he told me that the new bassist oversold himself and couldn’t even find the notes he was looking for and that someone else would be filling in for him at the next couple of shows. He then told me that if there was ever a project I wanted to work on with him, that I could text him.

Later that night he popped up and bonked my shoulder with his kids hand and introduced me to his wife. That’s all besides the point, just prior info for my drunk brain.

For whatever reason, I felt the need to tell that nixed bass players bestie (my friend who is staying the night) all about this whole interaction.

I usually wouldn’t run my mouth about anything like that

Those are all things that the passive version of myself would keep my mouth shut about until the proper time or place for those sorts of conversations. Not at a bar or ina crowded bathroom. I’ve also just been saying things that are more abrasive than I used to. Not necessarily at anyone, but in reference to others.

I don’t like how messy and mean that feels. I wanna keep a better check on that kind of behavior because while honesty is important, and often times helpful in situations like with that guy and the minor, there’s a level of tact to it that I’ve been lacking.

Id like to be more careful with how I present information and who I present it to, because lack of tact has cost me many a decent friendship. I don’t want to ruin the ones I have with lack of growth