#okay so first off. doctor asked if i had depression. i wobbled back and forth and eventually said probably no (lie). she responded

[homestuck--edits]

can you make and edit of nepeta and give her chihiro fujisakis outfit?,?! preferably a hs panel but sprites r fine too

yes :>

-mod davesprite

[namjoonchronicles]

healing | yg

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship ↳ words 1.9k ↳ summary Yoongi maybe the worst in projecting his emotions, but his actions don’t lie ↳ warning suggestive content ↳ song james arthur ‘let me love the lonely’ ‘safe inside’ ‘can i be him’ ‘certain things’

“I would do anything to forget.” “And I would do anything to remember.”

The second male lead actor bore a wounded expression on his handsome face. The female lead actress was unapologetic and relentless to his heart. She swore that forgetting that she ever loved him is the only way to go on with her life. But the actor finally remembered all the love they had before he loses his memories as a result of an accident orchestrated by his step mother. He pretended to not remember just to know how she really felt about him. She said enough. Yoongi gawks at the screen. “Does that even make sense? How can he stay silent after that? How can he be okay with just that? What a load of bull--” His phone vibrates just as he is about to curse. With his wife’s picture flashing on the screen, he wipes his hand on his flannels and refastened the velcro straps of his arms to secure them back on. “Hello?”

“Hey sweetie, what are you doing?” “Watching that episode was a mistake, why would they ruin the story like that, everything was going just fine, I don’t understand…” You chuckled at your husband’s adorable whines, and “How far in were you?” “Joonsoo told Bora that he wanted to remember…Ah! I am so upset, I am not going to watch the rest of the episode… I don’t care…” “But you have to see what happens after that! A little spoiler for you…” you sang and he replied, “Ah! Ah, no. Don’t tell me what happens. No!” “She knew that Joonsoo’s memories came back, but she is doing that to follow Joonsoo’s mother's instructions…” you told him anyways. Yoongi leans back into his chair and it wobbles back and forth at his weight. He swiveled away from the screen, holding the phone close to his ear and he sighed out loud. “Why did you call me?” “I am just walking out a fried chicken hawker stall and was wondering if you’d like some but I remember your doctor saying you can’t have oily food… so that’s cancelled.” His wife is a tease. All she does is tease. Yoongi left his home studio and walked down the hallway to the living room. He then revealed to you that he found your gastric medication laying around the cabinet with several pills gone. Yoongi had always been so attentive towards things like these. Ever since he had to stay home longer than usual because of his shoulder surgery, he is policing you around with his keen eyes. He found out that you don’t really take care of yourself as well as you told him you were. There were antacids, antiemetics and all kinds of painkillers he found in the medicine cabinet that weren't his. This was alarming, at least to Yoongi. “You’re telling me that you crawled to work despite having gastric two days prior?” he scolded you with a low monotonous voice, pinky pushing the blisters away to see just how much you’ve been taking behind his back. “It’s nothing to worry about, it’ll go away soon… I learn endurance from the best,” you pushed your tongue to cheek, leisuring down the pedestrian walk area, pouting hard at your husband. “You’re talking back at me,” he scoffs, “I taught you that? I guess it's fair… Have you eaten?” You didn’t eat because you don’t have the appetite. After the gastric attack happened, you have been vomiting every time you ate, and your throat burns every time from the acid reflux. “Eating is terrifying…” you confessed. Yoongi poked his head into the refrigerator after the call ended. He took out leek, dried lavers, and whatever he could find in the fridge to start a small dinner. And he did them all with one hand. It wasn’t easy. The carrots were roughly chopped and the potatoes are barely peeled properly. It’s the best dish to take after gastric. He took a couple cups of rice and had them washed under running water. He measured the water and threw in a thumb-sized ginger so it got cooked together. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he really enjoys cooking. He was raised in a house that always belittled women's chores and because of the whole ‘boys shouldn’t cook’ agenda, he was more curious than ever in the kitchen. It comes naturally to him. He would secretly help his mom cook and prepare food to sell in school during the day. It remains one of the memories he is most fond of. He doesn’t really like telling people out loud how he feels. It was something  you both had in common. Coming together was difficult. It was like a race to the end, who will clamor up or who will fall apart faster, to you. Yoongi was determined to keep his emotions sealed in his dungeon called heart. Which was ridiculous, because everyone knows, the more you try to hide your feelings, the louder it is. He doesn’t say ‘I love you’ like normal people. His ‘I love you’s’ are scattered all around you. It was in the walls he painted and in the bookshelf he helped build. It’s in the picture of the milky way he took and in the pile of bandages he bought you when you sprained your ankle. They say, the eyes are windows to the soul. Yoongi had never looked you in the eye. It’s like he runs away from the things he wants the most. It almost made you give up. Seeing how the feelings aren’t verbally reciprocated almost made you leave. Winter, several years ago, “For Yoongi-hyung, you have to force it out of him…” Taehyung advised. “I don’t want to force him…” you sighed, “What if he does this to all his girl friends?” Taehyung stared at you dead in the eye with a cunning smile. “What does your heart tell you?” He asked. “My heart had been wrong before,” You shot back. Taehyung suddenly turned his attention to his phone, his face shone by the light from the screen and he smirked, “If he doesn’t, would he be running all the way up here at this time?” Just then, Yoongi bursted through the door. Chest heaving up and down, eyes blown wide, mouth gaping. His eyes darted to Taehyung and then to you. “You know he won’t leave his bed for anything…” Taehyung glances at you with a knowing smile, “What could this mean?” He feigned a surprised face at you and walked towards the door at Yoongi. And even then, he wouldn’t confess. “You love me, right?” you asked him. “It’s already so late…” “Please answer me…” He appeared conflicted. “Min Yoongi, you don’t love me?” “I… Let’s not do this…” “I think you do… Everyone knows you love me, everybody. Everyone, but you…” “Let’s talk in the morning…” At that time, Yoongi is afraid of commitment despite never really having problems actually committing. His past relationship didn’t go so well because he felt inadequate. And for that, he feared karma. He left the last one because he didn’t think he could be a good person for her. He was bound by depression, crippling sadness and fear so great, it left him in shambles. Being in a relationship back then made him feel like a boulder to a smooth sailing ship. He felt dragged along. He was responsible for two hearts and it felt a lot at the time. He knows just how much hurt he caused her and he knows that karma will come after him. That’s why when he fell for you, his first reaction was to be defensive. He doesn’t want the same hurt to happen to you. Because, what if he hurts you?

“And if I tell you I don’t care?”

The winter arrived on schedule this year. You shivered as you walked into your house. Yoongi is still in the kitchen, turning off the stove. “You didn’t rest like I told you to!” “How could I if you were not eating… I rested for a surgery and couldn’t cook ever since I returned, and you are already getting gastric from not eating…” You helped Yoongi carry the soup on the table. And you scooped him his rice. He was right. Your appetite went down ever since you had to cook on your own. His cooking has always been the thing you look forward to when you return home, but now, you don’t feel like eating because it’s always the same food over and over again. “Does it taste good?” He asked, lovingly. His eyes oozing fondness. “So-very good…” you said with a mouthful. “I have to shower after this… I am sweating so much,” he spoke to his bowl of rice. You unbuttoned his shirt and carefully slid the long sleeves down his arm. You keep glancing up his face to see if he is in any type of discomfort. His ears were the first to turn bright red and he had been biting his lower lip ever since you started undressing him. That wasn’t alarming. The strange thing about Yoongi is that he giggles or laughs when he is in pain. No giggles is fine. No smiles are good. By the time you took off his flannel buttoned up shirt, his face was bright red like he had been drinking whiskey. You couldn't help but smile when he gets sheepish like this. He looks like a sheep ready for the slaughter room. Next thing to come off is his trousers. The bath is ready and he climbs in. You went to the cabinet and showed him two bath bombs he could choose from. He wanted the lavender one. You always liked how it smells. Yoongi sat docile in the middle of the bath, while you swept his hair back and dabbed his face with a dampened towel. Then you move to his back and wipe along the spine, carefully avoiding harsh movements around the stitches on his shoulder. “The stitches are coming together nicely,” you spoke in whispers. Just the sound of the water dripping into the pool was heard. Yoongi let out an encouraging, “Is it…” “The skin around it is not swollen, and its closing up prettily,” you gushed, “At this rate you can start physical therapy around next month...?” “That’s nice to hear…” He hums happily, “I had been feeling rather helpless, and shackled, and unable to work at the speed I used to.” “Hence,” you started with a scolding tone, “Take care of yourself better from today onwards. Everyone frets around you, worried and bustling over you. Coddling you like a baby…when you get hurt like this, you worry everyone. Why did you keep quiet about this pain for so long…This type of perseverance is inhumanly. What are you… a saint?” He chuckles. You took off your own shirt and garments. Yoongi mashed his lips together, stealing glances on your body and when you climbed in the same tub and started washing yourself, he started to gather all the foams. “That’s why, stop hurting yourself…” you repeated your warning, unhooking your bra and throwing it on the marble floor next to your crumpled heap of blouses and trousers. Yoongi sighs. Loudly this time. “What is it now…” you blinked at him. “I want to get well faster… I missed unhooking your bras with my own hands…” 

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Copyright © January 6th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are free!

[twdeadlysins]

Save the Last One

Season two, episode three (1/1)

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3,857

Warnings: Slow burn, mention of character death, mention of suicidal thoughts, mention of suicidal attempt, mention of abuse, the usual walking dead violence, language, blood, and such with possible typos

Author’s Note: I don’t own anything from The Walking Dead, so all credit goes to their respective owners. This is a twd series rewrite with the reader inserted into the mix. I did and will continue to use dialogue from the actual show because I want it to be similar to what you’ve already watched, but obviously have the reader in it. Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve uploaded another part for this series! 

If you want to be (un)tagged for this series rewrite, don’t hesitate to send me an ask, message me, or leave a comment and I’ll add/remove you. The same goes for any other fics! I’m in no way, shape, or form a writer. Any feedback is appreciated, but hate is a different story. Thank you and enjoy!

The gifs I use aren’t mine, so all credit goes to their respective owners.

MASTERLIST // TWD SERIES REWRITE

After the outburst Lori had about Rick leaving, you wobbled your way outside and sat in the wooden rocking chair that you basically claimed with the amount of times you had sat in it already. Rick and Lori had been in Carl’s room the entire time and you saw Maggie bring a sandwich and a cup of water for Rick. He had to eat especially after donating all his blood to his son and if he refused, you knew Lori would force him to. If not for himself, then for her and Carl’s sake. 

The fever you had died down a little, but you were still burning up, shit you’d rather be cold, only then could you bundle up. This time though you went without your blanket, opting to feel the night air against your clammy skin. Your head was against the back of the chair, injured leg stretched out while the other was rocking you back and forth. A breeze rolled through, making you flutter your eyes close once it made contact with your flaming hot skin. The faint sound of an engine made you perk up and look out onto the farm, seeing a car approaching, it was small and it even made you second guess yourself, like you were hallucinating. You sat up straighter and leaned forward, eyes squinted to make out the model of the car to see if it was familiar to you. Once the vehicle got closer, a smile etched on your face and you slowly got up to carefully step down the porch. 

“Long time no see,” you quipped, limping to give a concerned Glenn a hug. He had a double barrel shotgun in his grasp, so he could only return the hug with one arm. You went to give T-Dog one as well, but your smile faltered. “What the hell happened to you?”

He barely had his eyes open and he was sweating bullets with a blanket draped across his shoulders, his forearm like yours was bandaged. “I could say the same thing to you,” he teasingly shot back before waving both of his hands towards him, gesturing for you to give him a hug. You obliged and gave him a feather like hug, not wanting to make things worse like apply more body heat for his and your sake, but to your surprise he was pretty cold. “Blood infection,” he added after you retracted, making you wince at his condition. That explains his unusual body temp, fever and chills with low body temp. 

“Y/N, you’re like a furnace and you’re pale… like paler than usual,” Glenn pointed out, earning a hit in the chest from you at the last bit. 

“I have an infection as well, but it’s only in my wounds.” You turned over your forearms and displayed your bandages. “Hershel, the vet- I mean doctor, took care of them before it spread like what happened with this guy over here,” you joked, getting a bitch face from T-Dog. “And you already know about my hip… well I made it worse when I sprinted to get Carl here,” you said, slowly making your way back to the house with the guys. 

You lifted your leg onto the first step and stopped, noticing Glenn wasn’t moving, he was gawking at the steps. Following his orbs, you saw the thin trail of blood that belonged to Carl when you carried him inside. “Carl’s stable for now, Shane and Otis are getting the supplies as we speak.” Glenn peered up at you and nodded with a slight smile, so you held out your hand for him to take to hopefully ease him. It could be a little overwhelming, not knowing what to do at a place you’ve never been before, especially with what happened. He accepted your hand and you continued to make your way up the stairs to see a shadow in the other chair with their knees hugged to their chest. 

“Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?” Maggie questioned, creeping Glenn out since he squeezed your hand in surprise. You chuckled while he hesitantly greeted her and told her that they did in fact shut the gate. “Hello, nice to see you again. We met before briefly-” 

“Look, we came to help. There anything we can do?” T-Dog interrupted getting straight to the point making you smile at Glenn’s awkwardness and T-Dog’s impatience. Maggie stood up and widened her eyes once she noticed T-Dog’s makeshift bandaged arm. “It’s not a bite. I cut myself up pretty bad though.” 

“We’ll have it looked at. I’ll tell them you’re here,” Maggie replied, walking to the door before Glenn let go of your hand and interjected, opening his bag and saying they had brought painkillers and antibiotics. “I already gave him some, but if Carl needs any…” he said, handing her the pill bottle. She then told you guys to come inside and that she would make you guys something to eat. 

“Thanks, Maggie.” She smiled at you before opening the door and going inside, holding the door behind her for you to follow. You and Maggie led Glenn and T-Dog to the bedroom that Carl occupied, stopping at the door frame as the men went in just a tad, still in arms length of you. Their features were a mixture of shock and remorse, seeing the little boy in that condition and his parents at his bedside. Hershel was checking his blood pressure once again and Glenn took off his hat to scratch his scalp as he made their presence known. “Hey.” 

Rick replied with the same, visibly not doing okay as he brought his hand up to his forehead. He was still pale, but he looked somewhat better and that was progress. Glenn let them know that they were here for them to which the sorrow couple thanked before the three of them left so Maggie could get them situated. 

You limped your way to stand at the end of the bed, witnessing Hershel uncover Carl’s abdomen that was descended at the bottom which he said would happen before Shane and Otis left to get the supplies. Your breath hitched and you hung your head, that wasn’t good. “They don’t get back soon, we’re gonna have a decision to make,” Hershel warned. 

“And that is?” Rick tiredly asked.

“Whether to operate on your boy without the respirator-”

“You said that wouldn’t work,” Lori mentioned, cutting him off while toying with something in her hand while holding her husband’s in the other.

“I know. It’s extremely unlikely, but we can’t wait much longer.” Within a blink of an eye, Lori was out of her seat and out the room which made a weak Rick go after her. You sighed and shook your head, dragging your hand down your face, defeated. “If there’s anything you need…” you trailed as you went to exit the room, earning Hershel to nod his head. Glenn and T-Dog sat at the dining room table, eating a sandwich and there was a plate waiting for you. You smiled and sat down, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. 

“How are the others?” you asked after swallowing, setting the food down to take a sip of your water. Glenn nodded as he chewed. “They’re good? I don’t know. They’re coming in the morning though, so we’ll be together as a group again. They wanted to stay just in case Sophia-” He stopped, letting the room go quiet before T-Dog brought something up that wasn’t depressing to think about. 

“You gonna tell Y/N that we brought her stuff?” T-Dog said annoyed, but his voice was laced with some teasing . You jerked your head to stare at Glenn’s face that morphed into realization before he reached down on his other side where you couldn’t see to reveal your backpack. “Before we left, Daryl had given this to us saying it was yours and that you’d want it back.”

You slightly smile and thanked Glenn, grabbing your bag and opening it to see the rest of your knives, photo album and some snacks he must’ve put in there. It made you confused, was this his way of apologizing? You were still mad at him for scolding you and on top of that, ignoring you. Daryl was one puzzling man, one minute he’s decent and the next he’s an asshole… what was his deal? You were taken out of your mental ordeal when Lori, visibly upset, walked through the front door and into Carl’s room. You turned to Glenn and T-Dog, quirking a questioning brow, earning shrugs before you got up to check on your best friend seeming it was best to leave Lori alone with her son.  

Once you stepped outside, you stood beside Rick, leaning forward with your forearms draped over the railing while he held it with tight hands. You didn’t say anything, you just wanted to be there for him and if he wanted to talk about it, then you were there. That was what you both did to each other whenever something happened or you just felt down… the presence was enough to say ‘I’m here for you.’

“She thinks… she thinks it’d be better for Carl… if he didn’t make it.” Your eyes widen as you looked at Rick whose expression was filled with anger and sadness. “What?” It left you at a loss for words as you stared at the landscape before you straightened up and looked at Rick once more with your brows furrowed and eyes squinted, scoffing. “What?”

“I know… I know,” he said, wiping his face and opening his arms. “Apparently this world isn’t meant for children anymore.” 

“It’s not meant for anyone?!” you confusedly stated, getting more and more upset at the mere thought of those words coming out of Lori’s mouth or letting Carl die. “I don’t care what she says, we aren’t letting him die, Rick. Shane and Otis will be back with those damn supplies or so help me I’ll go there and get them myself,” you spat, pointing out towards the yard. “She even begged for Jenner to give us all a chance, so what? Does she regret it now? Does she really believe what he said? That it'd be better if we all just end it? That we should’ve let him blow us all up without even trying?”

“I guess… I don’t know… she said that Jacqui don’t have to feel anything anymore, didn’t have to see the highway, the herd of walkers, Sophia or Carl-”

“‘Cause she’s dead, Rick! She don’t feel a damn thing and that’s worse than living! Yeah, she might not get to feel all the tragic things that come with this cruel world, but Jacqui doesn’t get to feel joy, love. The world was already fucked up to begin with and trust me, I’ve wanted to end it a long time ago, hell I even tried before the dead showed up, but ya know what? I’ve learned that when you’re dead… the world and everyone one in it still exists, that they keep living without you.” You deeply inhaled and exhaled, rubbing the tears off your face and out of your eyes. You didn’t mean to get so worked up about it, but it bothered you so much what Lori said. 

“I know, Y/N, I know,” he whispered as he engulfed you into a hug, rubbing your back while you stuffed your head into the crook of his neck. “I disagreed with everything she said. She wanted me ta’ give her a good reason why it should be the other way, where Carl lives and ya made me think of that reason.” You lifted up your head, tucking you hair behind your ears as you peered at him wanting to know what it was. 

“The deer,” he whispered with a smile. 

Carl ended up waking up and aside from the pain and asking where you guys were, he talked about the deer. Despite the situation, it made you grin and peek over at Rick who had an even wider one. Carl brought up a good memory, a living one, but the moment was cut short when he started to seize. You wished you could do something, but you knew you had to let him ride it out… you’ve had one yourself before. 

It was your second tour in Iraq and you were in the med bay; you and a few other soldiers that became your close friends over the years had been in a building that exploded. You suffered a brain injury from the impact when your head collided with the ground. Once you came to, you kept begging to know what happened to your friends and after much debate, your commander told you that you were the only survivor. A couple hours after hearing the tragic news, you had a seizure due to the physical trauma your brain endured and you were sure learning that you were the only survivor contributed to that. 

Hershel, Rick and Lori had left to leave you alone with Carl, you haven’t had the chance to be with him by yourself and speak to him even if the conversation was one sided. Even though you and Rick weren’t biologically related, you were still brother and sister at heart, so you referred Carl as your nephew and he was the best nephew you could’ve ever asked for. 

You scooted up a chair after dampening a rag and tapped it against his pale, clammy forehead… something you both had in common, but obviously he was under a more serious condition. “There ya go buddy, hope that helps,” you softly smiled, leaving the cloth on his forehead after patting it against his upper torso. You don’t know what you’d do if he didn’t make it, you didn’t even want to think about it. The thought shouldn’t even cross your mind, he’s just a kid, but here you were… staring at a little boy who hasn’t even lived his life yet. 

“Shane and Otis are gonna be back soon and Hershel will fix you up, then you’ll get to run around in the big field once you’re all healed up. By the time that happens I’ll be able to too… we can chase each other then,” you chuckled before feeling a hand softly grip your shoulder. You looked behind you slowly knowing who it was and saw Rick give you a little smile as you placed your palm over his and gave it a squeeze. 

Hershel and Lori had came back in not long after you and Rick had finished reminiscing over the time you all had gone to the town’s annual carnival and you had finally talked Carl into riding the Ferris wheel. He was afraid of the top, but you reassured him he’d be safe and you’d be there for him, so he gave in. Rick and Lori rode in a seat while you and Carl were in another and you don’t think Carl’s grip on your hand could get any tighter. “Once we went around a couple times, he started to loosen up and he had the biggest grin on his face… he even had one when we went to get ice cream and his dropped on the ground,” you giggled, making Rick chuckle and nudge your shoulder with his hand as he leaned back. “Most kids would’ve whined or gotten pissed, but no… Carl laughed right along with us. This kid is one of the good things in this fucked up world.” 

“He’s still losing blood faster than we can replace it,” Hershel informed after he was done taking his blood pressure. You sighed before taking the pills he gave you and chugged down some ice cold water. “And with the swelling in his abdomen… we can’t wait any longer or he’s just going to slip away.” You slowly shut your eyes and leaned forward in your seat, clasping your hands together and leaning your forehead against them. “Now I need to know right now if you want me to do this because I think your boy is out of time.” 

Rick and Lori were standing by the end and they gawked at their son while you stared off to the side at the hardwood floor, waiting for a response. “You have to make a choice,” Hershel hurriedly said.

“A choice?” Lori angrily questioned, not believing the words that came out of his mouth, that he would demand such a thing for a parent to do. To decide whether their son lived or died and the trying option wasn’t even guaranteed to work. 

“A choice,” Rick turned to his wife. “You have to tell me what it is. You have to tell me what it is,” he repeated in a whisper, staring her in the eyes. She bit her lip and caressed his face in thought before saying to do it. Rick nodded and embraced Lori while you closed your eyes and mentally thanked God, if she would’ve said the other option that you couldn’t even believe was one, you would’ve fought it and even her if you had to. 

Hershel and Patrica came in the room with an operating table, requesting for anyone to get the corner of the bed to transfer him to the table. You stepped aside, not trusting your body to be able to help move Carl, your leg couldn’t support that kind of weight. Once the four of them carried him over to the table by the sheet. Patrica revealed the medical tools and set up a lamp to provide light, Hershel had a scalpel in hand and advised the three of you to go in the other room, but before you could do so, you heard an engine outside. Rick peered outside and looked relieved, so you wobbled as fast as you could behind him. 

The whole house except Patricia, since she was requested to stay with Carl, came barreling outside. Shane was breathing heavily and walked with a limp making you wonder what the hell had happened at the high school. “Carl?” He wheezed and Rick put him at ease when he told him that he still had a chance. Hershel quickly snatched the bag from his grip and then searched behind Shane and that was when you noticed he was alone. “Shane, where’s Otis?” You questioned and that made Shane gawk at everyone before looking down.  “No.” You bit your lip before glancing at your boots, running your hand through your hair with the other on your hip. 

Hershel shifted back and forth, not knowing what to do. “We say nothing to Patricia, not ‘till after, I need her!” he instructed before striding inside with Glenn and T-Dog behind him. Shane’s eyes wandered everywhere before Rick hugged him. He looked mortified… he saw Otis die… he had to of seen it. 

“They kept blocking us… at every turn. We had nothing left, we were down to 10 rounds, then he said… he said he’d cover me and that I should keep going. So that’s what I did, I just… I kept going, but I- I looked back and he…” Shane tried to explain in between breaths and pauses, getting worked up at the tragic event. 

“He wanted to make it right,” Rick assured him, placing his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. Lori was comforting Maggie as she tried not to sob and your orbs connected to Shane’s for a second and you just weren’t sure. Something didn’t settle right with you and yes, he was shaken up, but it could be one of two things… he saw Otis die or Shane made a horrific decision that he couldn’t believe he made. You’ve seen that look before… someone so traumatized over what they had done that they were haunted by it… it was that same look Shane had… the same look all the suspects you had that were soon found guilty.

Rick and Lori sat at the steps, holding each other, T-Dog sat in a chair on the porch, Shane sat down, leaned against the blue truck while you sat in your claimed rocking chair waiting on any news from Hershel on Carl’s condition. You quietly hummed a tune to yourself, gently rocking and staring off into the yard. The door opened and out came Hershel, Glenn and Maggie, making you perk up in your chair to hear what the vet had to say. 

“He seems to have stabilized,” Hershel said, a smile tugging at his lips, making you give a loud sigh of relief and so did everyone else. Rick eloped the doctor in a hug, appreciative that he saved his son. “I don’t have words,” Lori emotionally said with a smile. 

“I don’t either, wish I did. How do I tell Patricia about Otis?” Everyone went silent as you all looked at each other with bewilderment, as bad as it sounded, you had forgotten about what happened to Otis while you waited and in the gleeful moment. “You go with Carl, I’ll go with Hershel,” Rick said before following the doctor inside. You saw Lori nod towards Shane before going inside herself to go wait for Carl to wake up as you carefully stood up, watching Shane limp towards the house. 

You scurried your way over and grabbed his hand, helping him up the stairs. “Looks like we’re twins,” you quipped, earning a scoff as he hung his head and looked up with a smirk. When his head was down, you didn’t miss the absent patch of hair on his head, it was small, but it was there. You decided it was best not to question him about it, it would send off warning signals and he’d know you were suspicious. You interrogated people when you were in the military and as a cop… something was definitely up with him since he was obviously hiding something and lying or leaving out what really happened with Otis. “How’d it happen?” 

“Walkers were on us and I had no choice, but ta’ jump out a window.” 

You whistled, that window must’ve been very high if the landing injured him that bad. 

Once you two got inside, you could hear the loud sobs in the kitchen that erupted out of Patricia, crushing your heart that she had to go through such a thing. She lost her love and had to live without him, live without him through this mess and you couldn’t imagine what she must be going through. Sure, you had loved ones that passed away like your aunt and uncle, your parents, etc… but it isn’t quite like losing the person you thought you would be spending the rest of your life with. It made you chuckle at your once gullible self… you thought you were in love with your abusive, good for nothing boyfriend and settle down with him, but when you left that night… you didn’t care what happened to him. Now that walkers littered the planet, you hoped that he was dead… that he was the dead. 

_____________________________________

MASTERLIST // TWD SERIES REWRITE

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you’d like to added or removed from the tags don’t hesitate to send me an ask or message! <3

A/N: Omg sorry for the lack of Daryl. I’m obviously sticking to the show since this is a series rewrite lmao. I JUST WANT MORE DARYL X READER!!!

Taglist:

@jodiereedus22 @sourwolf-sterek32 @jll72-blog  @mtngirlforever @haleypearce @nikkipea @sombra--speaks @the-three-eyed-ravenclaw @bunnymother93 @holyn0vak @myshakespeareandarling @million-dollar-milkshake @thatsoragan @firehoopinmama @mummy-woves-you @sheebthezeeb @j-a-val @filleinterrupted @gruffle1 @lonewolf471 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @gabbygurrl @burningsorr0ws @siren-queen03 @mcublinders @randomfandommess @dixonluvv @aestheticmattilyn @samlott2202 @freggietale @fandomfanatic97 @lxdyred @ii-chuuya-gravity-ii @dashesoflipstick @bucky-barnes-babies @magnumstyles @selvadorada @jordangdelacruz @evilunicorns4minions

[vannahfanfics]

If requests are open again could we see that fic where they keep the chopper clones.

Here you go, Anon! Who knew that my knowledge of science and medicine would become useful in a One Piece fanfic, LOL. Also if I go AWOL just assume the FBI has arrested me for Googling cyanide poisoning and its antidotes… 

Before you read, here’s Part I!

Look at All Those Choppers! Part II

About one week after the infamous clone carp incident, Chopper was once again perched on his little barrel with the tiny fishing rod in his hands, humming the latest of Brook’s tunes as he carefully watched the bobber drift up and down in the gently sloshing waves. This time his regular fishing partner Usopp was also in attendance, sitting on the railing of the ship with one leg hanging lazily over the side, so Chopper didn’t need to bother anyone else with having to supervise him. They were still moseying about in the same stretch of sea that the clone carp populated (according to Robin’s investigation) and so they had memorized a photograph of the silvery fish to ensure that a harrowing incident such as Chopper’s cloning did not happen again. No more clone carp sushi, nuh-uh, no way! He thought with a small chortle to himself.

“It’s such a shame, though,” Usopp sighed aloud suddenly, causing Chopper to look at him quizzically. The sniper gave the reindeer a contemplative look. “Just think how useful it would be to have more than one Zoro or Luffy, or even an army of you, Chopper!” The Zoan doctor was caught between being amazed that Usopp had read his mind and upset that Usopp had implied that an army of him equated to only two of the more beastly members of the Straw Hats. “I just wish we would’ve had more time to study it to see if we could use it,” he sighed while tugging on his pole to entice something from the deep.

“Luffy would eat it before we even had a chance to do anything with it, and that would be much worse than an army of Choppers,” Nami snorted as she walked by with a basket of aromatic, fresh tangerines; she knocked Usopp upside the head as she did, knocking him off balance and nearly sending him overboard.

“Watch it, Nami! You’re lucky I don’t have a Devil Fruit or I woulda drowned! Drowned, ya hear me?” Usopp shouted after her while shaking his fist. She just ignored him. “It doesn’t matter much, anyway,” he shrugged once her returned his attention to Chopper. “The odds of us catching another one of those clone carps is one in a million, probably.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Yep. It’s a clone carp,” Robin confirmed as she looked from her encyclopedia of local fish species to the suffocating silver fish that was lying in a puddle of seawater on the deck. Usopp was crouched down next to it, jaw against the wooden deck with a disbelieving, drawn out “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?” stuck in his throat. Chopper grabbed his horns and rapidly shook his head from side to side in dismay.

“We have to throw it overboard before Luffy eats it! We stopped in port and stocked up on apples just to be safe, but we all know he won’t eat it!”

“Shhhh!” Usopp hissed and slapped his hand against Chopper’s furry mouth with a shift gaze toward the front of the ship. Chopper had reeled in the fish without much fuss, so Luffy had not had the care to abandon his perch on the lion figurehead. Even now, he was still blissfully unaware of the discovery and was leaning into the wind with his tongue hanging out like some kind of slobbery hound. Chopper scrunched up his face in disgust when he saw blobs of spittle being carried away by the brisk breeze. “This is what I was talking about, Chopper! You’re a doctor. You can study the cells and see if we can make them into some sort of weapon or tool!”

“I don’t know, Usopp… I feel kinda bad… I mean, for their part, those clones had feelings too… I would hate to just create and destroy them at will,” he murmured as he looked at his shiny reindeer hooves. Although at first he had been overjoyed that his crew cherished him and him only, but after he had really gotten to thinking about it, it wasn’t fair to the clones to disregard their feelings and experiences, even if they were limited. Had they really been identical to Chopper after all, or was it only at the cellular level? What about their souls? “It doesn’t feel right…”

“Well, Chopper, maybe by studying the interaction between the clone carp cells and the cyanide antidote, you can find a way to halt the cloning process without reverting the clones back to fish,” Robin pointed out reassuringly. At such a suggestion, Chopper rubbed his chin thoughtfully while staring at the fish, whose eyes had glassed over and was presumably deceased.

“Hmm… That doesn’t sound so bad!” With a contented hum, he flung the fish over his wee shoulder; because it was nearly as large as himself, it disbalanced him a bit and he had to wobble back and forth to get his bearing. After he finally righted himself, he exhaled confidently and gave Robin a toothy grin. “Robin, I’m sure you have books that’ll be helpful; can I borrow them?” The dark-haired woman smiled sweetly and used her Devil Fruit powers to bring down helpful tomes from her voluminous collection, piling them into her arms.

“Shall we, Chopper?” came her wine-smooth voice. Chopper nodded eagerly and whirled on his hoof to totter off to his private study, with Robin walking languidly alongside him. She graciously opened the door for him and allowed him to enter before walking in after him. Chopper tossed the fish onto his work desk before clambering up into his spinning doctor’s chair, rotating it before standing up in it to get a good look at his project. He prodded it a few times to make sure it was really dead, as he didn’t want to needlessly make the fish suffer through the dissection process, before he retrieved his sharp tools from one of the shells.

“Okay! Let’s begin, Robin!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Chopper, with the aid from Robin, conducting his experimental medicinal research in secret for about one week with no progress. He had been sneaking ice from the freezer in Sanji’s kitchen to keep the fileted fish meat on ice in his room until he had made enough cell plates to last him through his research. Once he had the brain cells cultured so that they could continue giving instructions to the body cells, he had set to his research. He had figured out how to get the clone carp cells to convert to his own cells by using some cheek swabs, but he hadn’t figured out how to negate the clone toxin without killing the parent cells and making the other cells turn back to clone carp cells. With an agonized, frustrated groan, he slammed his forehead down against the desk, making all his tools and cell cultures and sample jump up from the force. “This is hopeless! I’m not getting anywhere, Robin! No matter how diluted we make it, the cyanide solution just keeps reverting the cells!” he wailed in distress. He looked up at her with tear-filled eyes, disappointed in himself.

“There’s no need to fret, Chopper. Science isn’t an easy process. None of the greatest scientific achievements have happened overnight!” she responded encouragingly from her seat on the bed. She had several of Chopper’s medical textbooks spread out around her, and had been scanning the passages for useful biochemical or cellular physiology information that may have been relevant. His bottom lip stuck out in a pathetic pout. He was less than reassured. He slunk down from his office chair to scamper across the room and climb into Robin’s lap and hug her midriff sadly. She laughed lightly as he buried her face into her belly, and she wrapped her arms around him in a motherly embrace.

“I’m a failure as a doctor.”

“No, you aren’t, Chopper. We all think you’re a fabulous doctor. Think of how many times you’ve saved us from our wounds! The Straw Hats couldn’t ask for a better doctor.”

“Ah, shut up, you bastard~!” he giggled as her kind words finally seeped through his depressive aura to send a fluttery, blissful butterfly of joy flapping around in his little heart. He looked up at her with a grateful grin which she returned with a soft smile. He spun around to sit in her lap, feeling quite contented perched on her pillow-soft thighs, and picked up one of his toxicology textbooks to begin flipping through the pages. He then screamed and brought it close to his face, as if the passage that had caught his attention would be more significant if it were literally right in front of his eyes.

“What is it, Chopper?”

“How could I miss this? Of course! We shouldn’t have been diluting the cyanide! We should’ve been converting it into a related but less toxic substance! Sulfanegen sodium; do I have any sulfanegen sodium?!” he screamed as he dropped the book and jumped off of Robin’s lap. With how fast his little hooves were whirling, he probably ran on the air across the room to frantically clamber onto his desk and begin rifling through the various bottles shelved in his desk. Cyanide poisoning wasn’t exactly something that pirates had to worry about, as it was mostly used in assassinations performed by elite bounty hunters (and the Navy, probably) but Chopper kept a stock of random antidotes to all kinds of things just in case. It had been a habit after his beloved mentor had perished thanks to his ignorant gift of a poisonous mushroom. Chopper knew much better now, but in the back of his mind he was always afraid that one of his beloved crew mates would suffer some kind of intoxication and he wouldn’t have the antidote for it.

He squealed in glee when he found the labelled bottle reading “Sulfanegen Sodium.” As he sat down on the desk, not even bothering to use the chair, Robin crossed the room to lean over and watch his experiment, hands on her knees. He drew up a small amount of the liquid into the dropper before transferring the little droplet to his current diluted cyanide solution, mixing the two together. He then took one of his cell plates and scooped up a bunch of them to re-plate them on a fresh media plate; they immediately adhered and began rapidly dividing, slowly spreading out in a circular fashion. Before they could fill the plate too quickly, he aliquoted a drop of his new solution and dropped it onto the cells. He awaited a reaction with bated breath. In all his trials previous, the parent cells would shudder and die, while the others changed color to a silvery hue which was indicative of their reversion to clone carp cells as a result of the toxin being negated by the small amount of cyanide from the crushed apple seed solution.

Instead of the aforementioned result, the cells quivered before their division slowly came to a stop and remained the salmon hue that was indicative of human (or in Chopper’s case, human-reindeer) cells. Chopper crowed triumphantly and held the plate over his head as he did a happy jig. “Robin! I did it! I did it!”

“Yes, you did. I told you that you could do it!”

“Hey, what’s with all the noise in here? You woke me up from my nap…” Came a sleepy third voice. Chopper turned around to see that Zoro had opened the door and was scratching his stomach while he stifled a yawn with the other hand.

“That’s what you get for sleeping literally in front of his door,” Nami chimed as she shoved him aside to poke her orange-haired head into the room. “What’re you so excited for, Chopper?”

“Go on, Chopper. Why don’t we tell the entire crew your monumental discovery?” Robin mused. Chopper nodded eagerly and hopped down from the desk to skip out of his study and out onto the main deck. It only took a short moment to assemble all the crew members, and soon they were all looking with expressions of confusion and interest at the little cell plate in his tiny hooves.

“Robin and I have been working with clone carp cells to see if we could find a way to stop their transformation without reverting them back to the fish!” he announced proudly. Sanji stopped his scientific revelation reveal with a startled gasp.

“Chopper, you what? But we agreed that the clone carp was bad news. We don’t need two of Marimo or Captain Idiot!”

“Hey!” the two insulted parties chimed in irritated unison.

“Shut up; you know I’m right.”

“Yeah…”

“I just felt bad about what we did to all my clones,” Chopper admitted with a deep frown. He looked down at the plate of unassuming cells. “Sure, I’m the real Chopper, but all the other Choppers still had feelings, too! It makes me feel sad that we just disregarded that…”

“Are we really debating the morals of getting rid of clones produced by a dumb fish?” Nami asked uncomfortably, but from the look on her face, the moral dilemma was affecting her too. A discontented murmur rippled around the group.

“But with this new solution I made, we can stop anyone who eats the fish from dividing indefinitely! The host cells live in the main host and the other cells that are the clones communicate by quorum sensing to conduct their cellular operations!”

“What the hell does that mean?” Luffy asked while picking his nose. The scientific jargon was rapidly making him lose interest.

“The cells talk to each other,” Robin clarified.

“Whoa! That’s so cool!”

“Yep! The cyanide in the apple seeds killed the parent cells, which are slightly different genetically from the clone cells. It’s not actually reproducing by budding, me and Robin figured out, but a very complex process in-between asexual and sexual reproduction! The daughter cells are the ones that are direct clones and produce identical cells.” By the blank stares, he could tell that he was losing his audience. “A-anyway, with this solution I made, the parent cells don’t die, but the toxin is destroyed and the daughter cells get a signal to stop dividing so fast, but instead probably undergo the cell cycle at the same speed as our cells do instead! That means that the division stops but the clones don’t turn back into fish and are free to live their lives!” he finished with a big grin.

“Wow, Chopper. You’re brilliant!” Nami praised while patting him happily on the head.

“I understood none of that but it sounds important, but good job! That’s my doctor! Shishishishi!” Luffy laughed with his arms crossed. The rest of the crew similarly showered him in proud, appreciative remarks and Sanji even graced him with a celebratory cookie. He munched on it elatedly, careful that the crumbs didn’t fall into his cell plate, while answering questions about the process. Sanji had forgiven him for stealing the ice since it was such important research.

“So, are we gonna test it or what?” Usopp asked suddenly. Chopper swallowed his last bite of cookie before looking uncertainly at the plate. Sure, it worked in cell-level trials, but an organism was complicated. Would it really work?

“I wanna eat it! I wanna it eat!” Luffy cried and shot towards Chopper’s room to abscond with his frozen fish samples, but thankfully Zoro and Sanji were able to muscle him back. All it took was Robin telling him that two of him couldn’t be Pirate King for him to consent to never, ever eating the clone carp. “I ain’t competin’ with me…” he grumble with his arms crossed as he sat cross-legged on the deck.

“I think Chopper should have the clones,” Nami suggested, which threw the little reindeer for a loop.

“Huh? Why me?”

“Because you’re our most important member, duh!” the navigator beamed brightly down at him. If a reindeer could blush, he would be. “You’re always running yourself ragged trying to heal everyone at once. How many times have you wished there were more than one of you? When they aren’t doing doctor things, they can do other things you like to do too, like helping me water my tangerines.”

“-and helping me and Franky repair the ship and build new things! We always love your help, Chopper!”

“Yeah! It’s superrrrrrr!” Franky agreed with Usopp, striking his signature pose with a flashy smile.

“I always enjoy you helping in the kitchen, too,” Sanji mused while taking a drag from his cigarette.

“And you always make a good audience for my performances! Yohohohoho!”

“Imagine how many fish tons of you could reel in!” Luffy hollered with his fists in the air. “Meat all around!”

As they listed off the so many helpful things that Chopper did on a day-to-day basis, he began to sniffle and cry, so overwhelmed by their appreciation of him.

“Y-you guys… I love you so much!” he wailed and jump forward to hug the nearest pair of legs to him, which happened to be Sanji. Even though he was staining the cook’s black pants with tears, he didn’t seem to mind, only leaned over to loving rub the top of his head through his hat. “But… But… With all those other me’s… Will I still be useful?”

“Of course,” Robin smiled gently at him. He rubbed his eyes while looking up at her. “Those other Choppers will be like your brothers. They might know the same things at first, but in time, they’ll evolve their own personalities and skills- but you’ll still be our ship’s doctor, and they can never replace you in that.” A fresh wave of tears flooded his eyes and he buried his furry face into Sanji’s legs again.

“Wahhhhhhh! I love you all so muuuuuuuch!”

And so, that’s the story of how the Straw Hat crew sort of got bigger. The Chopper clones were an existence only known to the Straw Hats, as they were never taken along in the fighting (to protect them, as it turns out they couldn’t actually use Chopper’s Zoan powers like he thought they would be able to) and lived in the bowels of the ship, all seven of them occupying a cozy little bedroom that Franky had added on. Like Robin had said, they soon developed their own interests, styles, and personalities. Timmy Timmy Chopper was even shyer than Chopper was but took a liking to Robin, and loved it when she told him bedtime stories. Tommy Tommy Chopper was rambunctious and adventurous like Luffy, and if they had no hint of danger on islands they stopped at, the captain would tote him along; if there was danger, they always made sure to bring him back little unique gifts. Terry Terry Chopper had a culinary talent and Sanji made him his apprentice. Tama Tama Chopper had a penchant for gardening and looked after Nami’s tangerine trees whenever they were gone and even has a little garden of his own growing flowers which they sold in port for income. The two they liked to call “the twins” because they were so alike, Tippy Tippy Chopper and Tappy Tappy Chopper, were little shipwrights in their own right and loved to help Franky go to work on the Sunny’s never-ending repairs and improvements or test out Usopp’s newest inventions. Tappy Tappy was a little different from his twin in that he was musically inclined; he enjoyed learning about it from Brook. Finally, there was Tavi Tavi Chopper, who was rough and gruff and looked up to Zoro like an idol. More than anything, though, they loved their big brother Tony Tony Chopper and always made sure of one thing…

That they all went fishing together, because it was what bonded them as siblings. Sometimes, Chopper wouldn’t even sleep in his own bed but would slip down to where his brothers slept, and they would abandon their bunks to all dog-pile in a pallet on the floor. Every day after that, he was so glad he pulled that clone carp out of the sea, because his family just got that much bigger.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to perusemy Tableof Contents!

[wordsablaze]

Fire Is More Than Just Flames

You're not meant to fight fire with fire but that doesn't stop Phil from fighting Dan's cruel, numbing fire with the fire of his love and reminding him that the darkness will fade and he'll be okay... A Phan oneshot, Enjoy!

A/N: How fitting that my 50th fanfic is a phanfic, just like my first... This was inspired by the latest chapter of 'beautifully broken' by @jocollins (and sort of written for her too <3 *hugs*) 

Dan's username might argue otherwise but he certainly feels like he's on fire.

Not a burning fire, not a painful fire, not a raging fire, but a cold, numbing fire.

He feels like someone has frozen liquefied fire and thrown it into his bloodstream. Even his skin feels restless, like it wants to jump away and leave him behind, as if he's not worth sticking to anymore.

The lights are off in his room but he doesn't have the motivation to get up and switch them on because his bones feel like metal inside of him, pulling him down, stopping him from functioning like a normal human being. The curtains are open and he hates that because it means he can see the birds carelessly flying past and the sun shining as if nothing is wrong in the world. The door to his room is firmly closed but he doesn't see the point in opening it because he doesn't feel isolated, he just feels like he's alone in his misery and there's nothing being aware of all the space he has can do to help him.

Breathing is exhausting as he closes his eyes and rocks back and forth, wanting nothing more than to pretend everything is fine and dandy again. The sobs that escape him are quiet, gentle, so much more controlled than he feels. Tears slip over his skin like fleeting touches from a friend who doesn't want to understand, cold and useless and painful.

And then there's a tentative knock on his door.

"Dan?"

Phil.

Dan just sobs a little harder, hating that he's becoming a burden and creating a mess out of their previously comfortable silence. He can't form sentences but, if he could, he'd tell Phil to leave, to run while he still has the freedom to, to avoid getting stuck with his illogical emptiness.

"Dan? Dan, what's wrong? Can I come in?"

He doesn't know what's wrong because nothing is wrong and that's all it is, just a massive nothing where his heart should be, giving out darkness and tears instead of emotions and smiles. He's lost in the thoughts of his nothing when the door slowly opens and moves forward, squeaking a little since neither of them had gotten round to fixing it.

"Dan?" Phil asks, his voice no more than a whisper as he looks around. It doesn't take long for his gaze to settle on Dan, curled up on the bed, his head falling onto his knees as he tries to fold into himself, make himself smaller, disappear from existence entirely.

There's a moment where nothing happens, followed by a shuffling and the sound of something being opened, something being switched on, something being started up. Dan, even though he doesn't look up, lets his teary eyes open when he hears the music start to play. It's quiet and barely there but it's there, all the same, filling up some of the accusing stillness in the air around him.

"Dan, can I come near you?"

Despite feeling weighed down, he gives the smallest nod, one that probably wouldn't be recognisable to anyone but Phil. As he always does, Phil understands and eases himself onto the bed next to Dan, who breathes in the faint scent of cereal like it's morphine.

"Can I touch you?"

Dan knows what Phil is doing, he knows Phil is asking him for permission every step of the way to try and bring him back to where he really is, to try and provide a gateway through which Dan can find himself again. But it's more than that. Whether or not he knows it, Phil asking questions is giving Dan a sense of control, making him feel less contingent and more valued, more in charge of his situation. He uses this dim feeling of importance to persuade his head to nod once more.

Instantly, Phil's arm is around his shoulders and he can feel a soft hand gently brushing through his hair. He can feel Phil's knees pressing into his side and he can feel the warmth of another person near him. Phil's hand gently traces small circles into his shoulder, the gesture making Dan shiver. He can feel.

It's not a magical, tingling sensation or an explosive collision of skin but it's something he can feel and that's more than enough.

He's still disjointedly sobbing, his tears practically non-existent as he struggles to stabilise his breathing, but he gradually uncurls his stiff limbs, leaning into the comforting fire of Phil's warmth next to him. He lets his head fall onto Phil's chest, ignoring the voice in his head that wants him to believe he doesn't deserve human contact.

Phil's heartbeat has never sounded so perfect. He's not a doctor so he doesn't know what a medically perfect heartbeat is meant to sound like but, to him, there's nothing more soothing and comforting than the rhythm of Phil's heart. It's a sound that acts like a road for him, leading nowhere and everywhere all at once, just what he needs to latch onto the world.

The arms that wrap around him are cautious but firm and Dan finds himself smiling at the way he's cocooned in an embrace of care. It's always nice to know there's someone who wants to wipe your tears away, someone who wants to make sure you know you're appreciated, someone who loves you, and Dan has never known it more clearly than now.

"You're perfect," Phil whispers into his hair.

Dan's next sob dies before it can reach his lips, destroyed by the reassurance that he's allowed to be empty, he doesn't have to be okay all the time.

"I love you."

At first, he doesn't believe it. He wonders how anyone can love someone as messy as him, someone who can fall apart within the blink of an eye, but then he remembers this is Phil. The same Phil who'd accepted his unorthodox onomatopoeia, his ever-changing obsessions, and his intermittent self-hatred. This is someone who'd known about his dark thoughts before knowing his favourite colour, someone who doesn't seem to mind whatever the world throws at them as long as they can face it side by side.

"You're going to feel okay," Phil tells him, his voice gentle and full of compassion.

Dan doesn't say anything but he lets his arms wrap around Phil in return, the fact that he can touch, that he can hold onto someone acting as a sedative to the whirling numbness in his mind. Phil shifts so the two of them are even closer together again, the space between them dying as Dan clings to him, his chin wobbling and his frame shaking.

The music continues to play in the background, drifting around the two of them as a reminder that happiness is subjective and doesn't have to be shared by anyone else for it to be valid.

Dan opens his eyes and catches sight of the birds flying outside before his eyes settle on Phil's shoulder. The birds might feel happy when they're soaring through the air but Dan is content with staying where he is, with being stuck on the earth, because he has the little things to enjoy, the hundreds of moment he can share with Phil that birds will never experience because they're too busy relishing in their freedom.

"You're going to be okay," Phil repeats, louder this time, or maybe that's just Dan now letting himself hear the words he so deeply desires to agree with and believe.

Dan pulls back only enough to meet Phil's eyes, the eyes full of hope and love and a promise that things can get better, things will get better, and he finds himself drowning in the way those familiar colours are telling him not to give up.

He's not sure his head is clear but his heart can see past his doubt, latching onto the fire of affection he can practically sense spilling from Phil. This time, the fire that Dan feels fighting its way through him is a pleasant one, one that lets him breathe a little better and one that reminds him he's okay, even if he's not.

His voice is quiet and croaky when he says, "Thank you," but Phil doesn't seem to mind, beaming at him like he's just discovered a new planet and is the most important person in the universe.

"Oh, Dan…" Phil just closes the tiny gap between them again, burying his head in Dan's shoulder. "I love you."

Suddenly, just like that, Dan can smile.

Where he'd felt like he would drown in his own emptiness only a few seconds ago, he now feels like he's capable of working with himself, with the darker, more depressing parts of himself that he can't detach and destroy.

He burning in a fire but he's okay with that because he's burning in the fire of Phil's love, one that needs no gasoline to maintain but, rather, a little bit of hope and faith. He's burning but he's not getting burnt because he's a part of the fire, the fire wouldn't exist without him, and he can use the fire to push back the cold hopelessness in his soul that wants to swallow him whole and hide the light so he just crumbles and falls apart.

He's not going to fall apart though, he's going to renovate his heart and forge himself a new happiness, the happiness he deserves, the happiness everyone deserves.

Whoever said fire can't fight fire had clearly never known that fire is more than just flames.

like/reblog but please don’t repost, thanks! :)

[cherry-kirsch]

1. a vase of daffodils : wishing on dandelions

ushihina || multi-chaptered || sfw || hanahaki au

Takeda stops halfway down the corridor, watching Ushijima as he looks at the mural. “It was their idea.” He says and Ushijima barely glances at him. “The flower mural. They said the walls were depressing.”

“Isn’t looking at flowers depressing?” He asks and Takeda gives him a small shrug.

“Some people have come to love flowers again,” Takeda says softly. “I hope you will too.”

Ushijima doubts it.

[ AO3 ]

“I didn’t know,” Was the first thing that Tendou says when he steps inside Ushijima’s hospital room.

Ushijima just gives him a soft sort of smile. “I didn’t want you to know.”

Tendou had brought red roses, and Ushijima can’t help but feel a low pang of irony as he imagines the nurses digging red roses from his lungs and pulling the petals from his flesh, but he takes them in his arms as carefully as he would hold a baby, and thanks him though he feels sick. He can almost feel the thorns making his way up his throat, scratching him raw as he coughs up petal after with droplets of his blood.

He sits on the chair beside Ushijima’s bed, his hands folded in his lap. “You should’ve told me,” he presses. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t need to know, and what would you have done if I told you?” Ushijima asks, placing the bouquet carefully on the bedside table. “Would you have loved me back?”

Tendou hesitates. “Not necessarily…” He says slowly, his eyes snapping to Ushijima’s. “But you’re my friend, Wakatoshi, I shouldn’t have found out through Semi that you were in hospital.”

Ushijima’s hands tighten on the sheets of the bed frustration running through his mind. If he had it his way, Tendou wouldn’t have found out at all. “Semi told you,” he says. “Well… I suppose that can’t be helped.”

“Can’t be helped? Wakatoshi, you almost died and I had to find out through someone else,” Tendou hisses, leaning back in his seat in exasperation. “You’ve loved me for years and I’ve only found out because you had surgery to remove flowers from your lungs.”

Ushijima sighs. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he points out. “I don’t have feelings for you. We can just move on.” Where he once felt his fingers curling and warmth spread from his chest upon seeing or speaking of Tendou, he now felt nothing more than platonic love; a side-effect of the surgery.

Tendou just sighs and nods, tapping his foot on the floor as the room grows deathly silent. He looks back to Ushijima. “What kind of flowers were they?” he asks, and Ushijima tilts his head in question. “The ones that grew inside you?”

“Roses,” Ushijima tells him shortly, meeting his eye. “Red roses.”

Tendou nods again and Ushijima moves his eyes away from his body to look outside the window. The sky an azure blue and dotted with white cotton clouds, it was a day almost too perfect to be stuck inside— but Ushijima would suffer it if it meant the roses got far away from him. It was then that Tendou stood up, the chair legs scraping loudly across the linoleum and Ushijima’s gaze snaps back to Tendou.

“I wanted to come in and check on you,” Tendou says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “That’s all.”

The air hangs awkward and uncomfortable between them, but Ushijima nods regardless. “Thank you for coming.”

“I wanted to,” Tendou tells him before he turns and strides towards the door, stopping just outside it before he turns back to Ushijima with a small smile cracking his lips. “You don’t need to be so formal, old man.”

Once Tendou leaves, the room feels odd, and Ushijima takes the opportunity to grab the scissors from his bedside table and cut all the heads off the roses one by one, watching them fall into a pile on his lap until he’s left with blooms and stems. He throws the stems into the trash and eases himself out of bed, struggling a moment with the catch of the window before he throws the flowers out and into the courtyard below him, where they scatter across the ground like blood.

He feels a lot better for doing it.

“Name?”

Ushijima snaps himself from where he was staring blankly at the woman in front of him, lost in his own thoughts. She’s peering at him with a perfectly sculpted eye brown raised, her acrylic nails hovering gently over her keyboard, and he notices that a lollypop stick hangs from her lips.

“Oh,” he says. “Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

The woman nods and types his name into the server, and, while she waits for the data base to load she drums her nails on her desk. Once the computer lets out a small noise, she’s back to scrolling through the list of names that have popped up, clicking back and forth until she finds what she’s looking for.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi,” she repeats. “Recently undergone surgery for Hanahaki disease and was recommended… one-week in-patient on the ward?” She asks him, leans on her hand as she peers up at him.

Ushijima clears his throat and nods. “Yes.”

The woman nods right back. “Okay, good, Takeda is waiting for you in the evaluation room there,” she gestures towards the wooden door with her thumb. “He’ll run you through the ward rules and what not, and how evaluation and counselling goes. Then he’ll show you around.”

Ushijima nods and bows. “Thank you.” He says.

The woman smiles at him. “I’m one of the regular receptionists; you’ll have to talk to me if you want the card for the phone over there.” She points behind his shoulder. “My name is Saeko. Just ask if you need me.”

“I will,” he says, and then he hesitates. She raises an eyebrow. “Uh… can I have a lollipop?” Saeko laughs and passes a cherry flavoured lollipop under the glass divider with a wink, Ushijima thanks her once more, unwraps it and pops it into his mouth before he drops the wrapper into the trash and heads through the door to meet Doctor Takeda.

Takeda is a short man, he only comes up to Ushijima’s shoulder, and his rather sunny disposition matches his smile and fluffy black hair. He wears a colourful sweater and has his ID badge around his neck, and he smiles and jumps up to shake Ushijima’s hand when he closes the door behind him.

“You must be Ushijima!” he says, giving Ushijima’s hand a firm shake before he drops it and gestures him to sit. “I hate to get all serious suddenly but I do have to do a quick evaluation of your condition, is that alright?”

Ushijima nods shortly and wrings his hands together. “Yes.”

Takeda flashes him a grin and takes a seat behind his desk. “Okay! Now I’m going to ask you a series of questions and I’d like you to answer as honestly as you can.”

“Okay.” Ushijima says.

Takeda nods and turns to his computer, clicking a couple of times before he settles on something he wants; to Ushijima’s dismay, the screen is tinted so he can’t see. “How was your surgery, and how would you compare before the surgery and after the surgery?”

Ushijima thinks a moment, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. “My surgery went well; I don’t have any feelings for the person I fell in love with anymore. I think it was successful.” Takeda nods and picks up a pen, starting to scribble on a piece of paper in front of him. “As for a comparison… I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore. I don’t feel… suffocated.”

Takeda nods and gives him a comforting smile. “That’s good.” He turns back to his computer. “What kinds of flowers were they? Was there more than one kind?”

“They were red roses,” Ushijima tells him. “And there were just the roses. No other flowers.”

“Your case was mild then,” Takeda said with a small nod. “If it was any more severe you probably wouldn’t have gotten as long as you did before you had to have surgery.”

Ushijima nods feebly and offers Takeda a wobbly smile. “I’m glad then. That my case wasn’t that severe.”

“I am too.” Takeda tells him, and, for some reason, Ushijima believes him. “Did you refer yourself for surgery, or was your case an emergency?”

Ushijima frowns. “Shouldn’t that be in my records?” he asks and Takeda shrugs.

“It is,” he says. “But I’d rather you told me.” For a moment, Ushijima hesitates, unsure before he sticks the lollipop back in his mouth and shakes his head, Takeda gives him a small smile. “It’s okay if you don’t want to say; can I just write down what’s on your records?”

Ushijima nods and clears his throat. “Yes.”

Takeda nods and scribbles something down. “Okay,” he says, and when he looks back up again, he looks directly at Ushijima. “Now, have you had any symptoms since your surgery?”

“I’ve been feeling tired more recently, I’ve lost my appetite.” Ushijima replies, thinking for a moment. “I’ve not really wanted to go outside. I hate flowers, though, that was what it was like before. I think I might be a little depressed.” He says and it feels like a giant weight is being lifted off his chest as Takeda nods in understanding.

“That can happen sometimes,” Takeda says, leaning back in his seat a little. “After being in love with someone for however long, it’s… jarring and shocking to have those feelings gone so suddenly. Some people may feel lost, some depressed, it differs.” He smiles at Ushijima. “I’m glad you were able to tell me.”

Ushijima manages his first, genuine smile. “I’m glad I told you.”

Takeda turned back to Ushijima’s file on his computer. “One-week in-patient should be enough, and I don’t see any reason to keep you longer.” He clicked on a few things and then turned back to Ushijima. “I’ll lead you into the ward and have the resident nurse assign you someone to guide you your first couple of days. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

Takeda gestures to his lollipop as they stand up. “I see you’ve met Saeko.” He says as he holds the door open for Ushijima to pass through. “She’s a great receptionist and good for a chat. I think she has a brother a year or so younger than you.”

“She’s very nice,” Ushijima says, and Takeda chuckles. “I don’t know her very well yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to know her well.” He assures him as he leads Ushijima through double doors after swiping his pass over the scanner.

The walls, a dry white, have been painted over with what Ushijima assumes is colourful acrylics in a mural of brilliant flowers; he scans across the mural, searching for buds of blood red and leaves of emerald green, but finds nothing. Something which makes his shoulders relax. The flowers that he does see range from ornate lilies to poppies to daisies to orchids, and for a moment Ushijima wonders what it might have been like to cough them up.

Takeda stops halfway down the corridor, watching Ushijima as he looks at the mural. “It was their idea.” He says and Ushijima barely glances at him. “The flower mural. They said the walls were depressing.”

“Isn’t looking at flowers depressing?” He asks and Takeda gives him a small shrug.

“Some people have come to love flowers again,” Takeda says softly. “I hope you will too.”

Ushijima doubts it.

He allows Takeda to lead him to the next office down and he sits while Takeda talks with the nurse on reception and hands over Ushijima’s file. She takes a quick glance through it and then says something to Takeda and disappears out of a side door. Ushijima rests his head against the wall behind him and clutches the strap of his backpack a little bit tighter as he squeezes his eyes shut, when he opens them again Takeda is gone and a boy is peering over him— his noise almost touching Ushijima’s.

He blinks.

“Hello,” Ushijima says and the boy sighs and flicks his hair from his eyes.

He pouts. “Boo you’re boring.” He says and Ushijima frowns. “You’re the new guy, right? I wouldn’t expect someone like you to have Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, I’m the new guy,” Ushijima says shortly. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

The boy waves a hand dismissively. “Nothing,” he says with a small click of his tongue, before he grins and holds his hand out. “I’m Oikawa Tooru. Who are you?”

Ushijima takes Tooru’s hand and squeezes firmly before letting go. “Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“Well, Ushiwaka, I’m going to show you around,” Tooru says with a small grin, and Ushijima notices that he’s wearing sparkly lip gloss. “Try to keep up. It’s a big ward.”

Before Ushijima can reply – or protest to his new nickname – Tooru has already taken off down the corridor and left him in the dust. Quickly, Ushijima slings his backpack over his shoulder and dashes down the corridor, catching up to Tooru just as they enter the common room and he starts speaking; almost smacking Ushijima in the face with his sweeping hand gestures.

“This is the common room, where we bitch about the ones who put us here and how shitty our lives are,” Tooru began, a small grin on his face, and Ushijima shrinks behind him slightly at noticing the eyes on them. “Oh, don’t be shy, Ushiwaka! They don’t bite!”

A man with black hair grins as they walk past. “Oh, but I might!” He says, and when he grins he flashes a mouth of feline teeth.

“Kuroo Tetsuro,” Tooru introduces with a slight frown. “Kenma’s insufferable boyfriend.” Kuroo doesn’t offer a hand but instead gives Ushijima a small wave. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing him around though we all don’t want him here.”

Kuroo punches Tooru on the shoulder. “Kenma does.”

“Where is the Pudding Head anyway?” Tooru asks, peering around the room and even behind the sofa in his search. “I thought he got a new game recently, I’d expected him to be in the common room until lights out.”

Kuroo shrugs and begins to scroll through his phone. “He’s showing the Chibi and they probably got side-tracked.”

Tooru pouts and pretends to care, patting Kuroo on the shoulder of his leather jacket. “How does it feel being third-wheeled in your own relationship?”

Kuroo swatted his hand away. “How does it feel being sidled with the Newbies?”

“Oh,” Tooru grins and clutches Ushijima’s arm with his hands, pressing his body close to Ushijima’s. “This one feels great thanks for asking!”

“Gross,” Kuroo remarks with a wrinkle of his nose as Ushijima escapes his vice-like grip, he then turns to Ushijima and gives him a serious look. “Beware of Tooru. He’ll jump you.”

Tooru just rolls his eyes and begins to push Ushijima towards the other side of the room. “Don’t listen to him, he’s delusional.” He tells Ushijima and he can only nod and follow Tooru through a glass door before Tooru stops and turns to him with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t speak much do you?”

Ushijima shrugs. “Not really.”

Tooru grins, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, we’re going to get along wonderfully. I love talking.”

“I can tell,” Ushijima says. “Where to next?”

“Courtyard!” Tooru chirps happily as he leads Ushijima through a fire door and out into an enclosed courtyard that looks like something from The Secret Garden. Tooru sweeps his hand around. “The courtyard is in the direct middle of the ward! We come out here for lunch, just to talk, or if it’s sunny. North is the common room, the office. East and West are the rooms. South is the dining area, library and where we do art therapy.”

Ushijima nods and looks around. “Where’s my room?” He asks, and Tooru grins.

“In time, Ushiwaka!” He announces as he turns West and heads for the door. “I want to introduce you to Suga first! And it just so happens that you’re close by each other!” Ushijima shrugs and follows Tooru up the corridor until he stops outside a door labelled ‘Sugawara Koushi’ and knocks twice.

“One minute!” A voice comes from inside and Tooru tuts.

“You better not be naked, Suga! You’re not allowed Dai in your room!” He chirps and Ushijima can hear a groan from inside before the door is thrown open and a rather frazzled looking, ashy-haired man is standing in front of him with a smile.

Behind him, a dark-haired male is trying to redo his belt. Tooru notices this and snickers behind his hand. “Naughty, Suga!” he remarks teasingly and Suga only smiles and looks to Ushijima.

“Who’s this?” Suga asks and Tooru grins again.

“Ushiwaka,” Tooru says before he takes a firm grip of Ushijima’s arm. “Look! Isn’t he just… a prime specimen of volleyball fitness?” He asks with a small sigh of adoration and Suga laughs and tuts at him, batting Tooru’s hand off Ushijima’s bicep.

“I doubt Ushiwaka is his name, Tooru,” Suga says before he turns to Ushijima. “What’s your name?” he asks.

Ushijima offers him a nod of his head. “Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He says.

Suga nods and then peers at him a little closer. “Is Tooru right?” he asks and Ushijima blinks.

“Huh?”

“Volleyball,” Suga reiterates. “Do you play volleyball?”

Ushijima considers this. “I used to. I had to take time off for the surgery and for this… I’ve missed the tournaments probably.” He tells Suga and he tries his best not to feel disappointed.

Suga just smiles at him. “Not to worry, I’ve missed the tournament too.” He says.

“You play?” Ushijima asks and Suga laughs.

“I used to.” He replies easily, and Ushijima smiles.

Tooru groans and pouts. “Boo! You’ve only known Ushiwaka for two minutes and you’re already best friends! What about me, Suga?~” He clutches on to the front of Suga’s hoodie. “Is it because he’s so mysterious and brooding? Don’t tell Dai, he’ll get jealous.”

As if summoned by his name, Suga’s boyfriend pops up behind him. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because Ushiwaka is taller, broodier, and cuter than you, Daichi!” Tooru bemoans and Suga just rolls his eyes and pecks Daichi on his cheek.

“In your opinion,” Suga says.

Tooru sighs gently and shakes his head. “In everyone’s opinion, sweetie.”

Suga smiles. “Not mine!” He turns to Ushijima. “We watch volleyball every evening after dinner, you should join us some time. And I think we have a net if you ever wanted to play…”

Tooru groans again. “Stop talking about sport, Suga! We don’t speak of it here!”

Suga rolls his eyes at Tooru and pats his head gently before he turns to Ushijima to offer an explanation. “Tooru refuses to watch volleyball with us because he doesn’t want to remember how he can’t play because of how his stitching ripped the last time.”

Tooru moans and puts his head in his hands. “Suuuuga!”

Suga laughs and puts his hands up in mock surrender, grinning conspiratorially at Ushijima. “Sorry, Tooru!” He nods down the hallway. “Why don’t you show Ushijima to his room, we’ll introduce him to the group at dinner,” he turns to Ushijima. “Sound good.”

Ushijima nods and tightens his grip on his bag strap. “Yeah.”

Suga grins and pats his shoulder. “Good,” he says, already edging back into his room. “I’ll see you then.”

Tooru rolls his eyes and grabs Ushijima by his arms, already tugging him down the hallway. “Try not to lose any underwear in there!” he calls and Suga replies by throwing a bouncy ball at him before slamming the door shut. Tooru looks at Ushijima and sighs. “He’s so temperamental…”

Ushijima eyes Tooru. “I can tell.”

Tooru stops in front door with a blank label and opens it for Ushijima, gesturing him inside. “Well, this is your room. Try not to get lost in it.” He begins backing away, giving Ushijima a wave that’s just a wiggle of his fingers, the other hand tucked behind his back. “Feel free to explore after you’ve unpacked, and one of us will come find you for dinner. Later!”

Tooru turns and takes off running before Ushijima could even think about replying. Regardless, he shrugs and enters his room, closing the door behind him. It has drab white walls and a thick pair of blue blackout curtains; the bed resembles something alike to one you would find at a hospital, and the room is fitted with a large wardrobe, a bedside table, a small desk and chair, and a small bathroom through an attached door.

Ushijima drops his bag onto the floor, bends down and pulls out the small amount of clothes he brought with him. He folds his jeans neatly and places his t-shirts on them in the wardrobe, he hangs up his hoodie and the jacket he was wearing, places his books on his bedside table beside the lamp and alarm clock and places his toiletries in the bathroom.

He opens his door to go on a wander, before he is stopped by a person leaning against his doorframe. He’s vaguely owlish, with grey and black spikey hair and wide eyes, not to mention a large grin.

“Ohoho,” The guy says and Ushijima imagines an owl standing across from him. He shakes his head to clear the image from his mind. “You must be the new guy, right? Tooru won’t stop chattering about you to Kiyoko and Akaashi.” He looks Ushijima up and down. “I don’t get it.”

“Huh?” Ushijima asks and the man’s grin widens.

“He said you were attractive and built like Superman,” The man explains with a dismissive gesture. “I don’t get it. I mean, sure you’re tall and have broad shoulders, but if anyone’s Superman here, it’s me.”

Ushijima looks at him. “Who are you?” he asks.

“Bokuto Koutarou!” The man says, grinning wildly as he gestures to himself, doing a rather extravagant superhero pose. “Local Superman, at your service.”

“Okay,” Ushijima says, pushing past Bokuto to step into the corridor, allowing his door to click shut behind him. “I’m going on a walk.” He says, bowing to Bokuto once before he turns and heads in the opposite direction. Bokuto stops him by darting under his arm and spreading his arms wide in front of him, preventing him from slipping past on either side.

“Whoa, what’s the rush?” Bokuto asks. “Come on, lets hang out? Talk about our feelings and shit like that.”

Ushijima shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets. “I would rather not.”

Bokuto grins even wider, if possible. “Good! Because same.”

“But you just said—” Ushijima points out, his brow creasing, but Bokuto cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“Ushijima, Ushijima…” Bokuto says and Ushijima guesses he must’ve picked up his name from hearing Tooru talk about him. “Let’s not stress bout all of that; you should come play Portal with us. It’ll be fun.”

Ushijima eyes the way Bokuto shoves his hands into his pockets. “Puzzle games are frustrating.” He says. “Also, I don’t play video games.”

Bokuto’s eyes bug out of his head. “What do you do for fun then?” he asks.

“I play volleyball,” Ushijima says before he takes a moment to think. “And I watch TV.”

Bokuto smiles and begins to push Ushijima in the direction of the common room. “In that case you can come and watch me and Kuroo play Portal. It’ll be fun.” He says enthusiastically before he pouts and blinks owlishly up at Ushijima. “Please?”

Ushijima groans and pushes Bokuto’s face away from his. “Fine, but only as long as you stop,” Ushijima wordlessly gestures to Bokuto. “That.”

Bokuto grins and begins to tug Ushijima down the hallway. “Deal!” He chirps.

And, before Ushijima knows it, he’s being shoved into an armchair and forced to watch Bokuto and Kuroo yell over a frustration puzzle game. Resigned to his fate, Ushijima just sighs and settles back into his chair, crossing his arms firmly across his chest; that is, until something that feels like hair tickles his cheek. He frowns and brushes it away, tugging on it slightly while thinking that he’d better get his haircut, only for someone to yelp and wiggle away. Ushijima turns to meet the face of a youthful looking boy with rather alarming orange hair, and he grins as Ushijima stares blankly at him.

“If you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked.” He remarks lightly, chuckling as Ushijima continues to stare at him. “How far have they gotten in the game?” he asks.

Ushijima shrugs. “I haven’t really been paying attention.”

The boy perches on the seat of Ushijima’s armchair, and lifts his feet, only to look for Ushijima’s approval. Nervously, he nods and the boy places his feet gently on Ushijima’s thighs, so light the touch is barely even there, and leans over him to nudge Kuroo.

“Hey,” he says and Kuroo’s eyes dart to his. “How far have you gotten?”

Kuroo shrugs and tosses the controller to the boy. “Why don’t you figure it out.” He says with a feline grin as he stands, causing the boy to frown, pout and smack him lightly when he walks past. “I’m going to see Kenma.”

As Kuroo stands, so does Bokuto, discarding the controller on the sofa cushion he was previously sitting on. “Then I’m gonna see Akaashi.” He says, speeding out of the room before the boy or Kuroo can say anything.

The boy, now firmly fixed on the game in front of him, hardly casts Kuroo a glance. “He’s playing his game; you distract him, you die. Painfully.” He says and Ushijima thinks that’s very extreme. “Later.” The boy drawls as Kuroo strolls out of the room.

Then, with just the boy and Ushijima alone, the boy pauses the video game and turns to Ushijima, eyeing him carefully.

“Are you the new guy Tooru won’t stop talking about?” He asks curiously. “Ushi… something-or-other. Ushiwaka was it?” He asks again and Ushijima shrinks a little in his seat.

“Ushijima,” Ushijima corrects. “Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

The boy grins. “I can see why Tooru likes you,” he comments, fiddling idly with the joysticks of the controller in his lap. “You don’t talk much. But when you do, it’s blunt and to the point. You are Tooru are quite similar, when you think about it.”

Ushijima does, and shivers in disgust. “No way.” He says. “We’re the least bit similar.”

The boy chuckles at that. “In any case, he’s trying to flirt with you.”

“I thought that much was obvious,” Ushijima says, remembering the way Tooru replied to Kuroo and the numerous amount of times he grabbed his arm. “Painfully so.”

The boy nods. “I know. But it’s hard to tell with Tooru; he flirted with me too, when I first arrived. He does it to everyone, I guess it’s his way of being friendly, y’know?” Ushijima doesn’t but nods anyway. “I just can’t tell if he’s serious about you or not.”

Ushijima sighs a little. “I hope he’s not.” He says and the boy smiles mischievously, peering at him curiously.

“Why?” he asks. “Do you have a girlfriend on the outside? A boyfriend? A general significant other?”

Ushijima raises an eyebrow. “For such a small man you ask a lot of big questions.” He says and the boy glares slightly, his eyes narrowing and his cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk.

“I’m not small!” he says, turning away with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve just… not hit my growth-spurt yet is all…”

Ushijima pretends to nod sagely. “Ah,” he says slowly. “I see.”

The boy turns back to him, his pout slowly softening. “Well?” He asks and when Ushijima just looks blankly at him he sighs and waves his hand dismissively. “Never mind.”

Ushijima decides not to press it and looks back up at the boy. “What’s your name?” he asks. “Since you didn’t give it to me before.”

“Hinata Shouyou,” He says with a smile that flashes his doll-like teeth. “I like volleyball, video games and tokusatsu. I hope we can be friends!” Shouyou bows, knocks his head against Ushijima and pulls back wincing, clutching the crown of his head as Ushijima does the same. “Ow…” He mutters, and Ushijima has to catch him when he about topples off the arm of the armchair from leaning back too far.

Ushijima tightens his grip on Hinata’s wrists and pulls him up. “Careful,” he says. “We wouldn’t want you getting injured further.”

Shouyou blinks at him. “No,” he says, uncharacteristically quiet from the man Ushijima had been talking to only moments before. “I guess not.”

Ushijima stares at him a moment, meeting Shouyou’s gaze until both of their sets of eyes travel to where Ushijima still has a grip on his wrists. In a hurry, Ushijima drops them like they’re burning hot coal, and looks away, shoving his own hands back in his pockets and Shouyou does the same.

After a moment, Ushijima dares to look back, watching Shouyou for a moment as he rubs his hands together. “You…” Ushijima begins, feeling a sudden nervousness when Shouyou’s eyes meet his once more. He clears his throat. “You said you like tokusatsu? I like Kamen Rider.” He says.

Shouyou grins at him so brightly Ushijima thinks that it rivals the sun. “I like Garo! And Kamen Rider! What’s your favourite series? Mine’s Wizard because the suits looks so cool and they have awesome fights, y’know? Like ‘bwah’,” Shouyou mimes firing a gun. “And ‘gwah’,” He does an explosion gesture with his hands. “And ‘hiyah’,” He kicks his leg out and looks back to Ushijima, his eyes sparkling. “But my second favourite has to be Ex-Aid because they’re all based on video games!”

“I… My favourite is Ghost and Kabuto…” Ushijima says, and Shouyou peers at him more intently. “Because… the fights are… like… ‘bwah’… and… ‘gwah’. Also, I like the suit design.” He finishes nervously, and Shouyou beams at him. “I’ve never seen Garo.”

“I’ve not seen Kabuto! Let’s do a trade; I’ll show you Garo and you’ll show me Kabuto,” Shouyou stick his pinkie finger out to Ushijima. “Deal?”

Ushijima stares at Shouyou’s pinkie for a moment before he carefully interlocks it with his own. “Deal.” He manages.

“Now that we’ve made a pinkie-promise, you can’t go back on it, okay?” Shouyou says.

And he says it so seriously it makes Ushijima want to smile—as for the promise, he didn’t think he could break it even if he wanted to.