#I am new to this fandom and I am so lonely and hungry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lancermylove · 3 years

Text

Why Do You Care? (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Platonic HCS with all the demons.

Warning: Mentions of depression, abusive past, thoughts of suicide

Requested by: @thedragongurl03

Prompt: Okay. Hear me out. The Obey Me demon boys platonically helping MC with an abusive background through a depressive episode. Bonus points if MC can't understand why they care since she has spent her whole life around people who treat her like she is nothing.

A/N: I wrote a somewhat similar request here and did my best to not make this hc the same as that one. Also, how and where do I redeem the bonus points? XD

———————————————

Diavolo

You felt guilty for skipping out on classes but were too drained to even get out of bed.

Diavolo was worried about you and came to visit you. He saw you in bed with a tear-stained face and puffy eyes.

He didn't ask you anything; instead, he sat at the edge of the bed and told you a story.

"For as long as I can remember, I have been lonely. As a child, I had no friends, and my family...well, I am not sure what a family is." He gave a small smile, "On top of that, no one has ever truly cared for me...and the ones that seem like they care...it's either because they fear me, respect my title, or it's their duty."

Diavolo wiped away your tears. "After you came here, I felt like I found someone who cares for me - not for King Diavolo but for Diavolo. I see a friend in you, so I hope you feel the same way about me."

Barbatos had told Diavolo about your past, but he wanted to hear your story from you. And, until you were ready to tell him, he was going stand by you as your support.

Barbatos

You were exhausted, tired of everything, and once again felt like you couldn’t take it anymore.

You aimlessly wandered around Devildom, trying to find a way to end it all.

"Hope is the foundation of human life, and you shouldn't give up." A shadow appeared behind you.

"Hope is nothing but a fantasy."

"Take a look around," Barbatos chuckled and appeared in front of you in his demon form, "you are in 'hell' studying alongside demons and angels. If a fantasy such as this can be real, then why not hope?"

He noticed you getting agitated and spoke, "I am already aware of what you have been through. You are amongst people who care for you, and if anything were to happen to you, then everyone would be sad."

He paused for a second and stared you in the eyes, "This includes myself, so please reconsider."

Lucifer

He noticed on multiple occasions that you were tired and were not eating properly.

Then, you collapsed from exhaustion, causing Luci to worry even more.

When you woke up, he was sitting on a chair next to your bed and immediately asked if you were okay.

"Why do you care?"

Your reply shocked him, but he maintained his composure, "You are part of my family...you are important to me. Why would you ask such a question?"

When you hesitated, he patiently waited for your answer. Slowly, you opened your heart to him.

Hearing that people mistreated you and neglected you angered him. How he wished he could hunt down those people and teach them a lesson.

"(Y/N)," he took hold of your hand and spoke softly, "I would never behave in that manner. In fact, no one in Devildom would dare to misbehave with you. You are important to everyone - my brother, the angels, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos."

Lucifer placed a hand on your head. "Most of all, you are important to me, and that fact will never change. I am and will be here for you."

Mammon

He came to show you his new loot, but as soon as he entered your room and saw your belongings scattered, Mammon panicked.

You were huddled in one corner of the room, sobbing in your knees.

He kept asking you what's wrong, but you ignored him. Until you reached a point and got annoyed with him. "Go a-away, Mammon."

"No. I will not go away." He sat next to you and crossed his arms. "I will not leave until you tell me what's wrong."

When you decided to tell him, Mammon got furious.

"You shouldn't waste your time after me either."

Those words were enough to make Mammon snap. "How could you say something like that!?" He took a hold of your shoulders. "Don't you know how important you are to me? You are my everything...my favorite master, my support, and my...friend."

Tears formed in his eyes. "You are so important to me that I would choose you over money. Don't ever say something like that again."

Beel

Beel noticed that you weren't taking care of yourself; moreover, you weren't eating properly.

Every time he asked you to eat, you brushed him off, giving all sorts of excuses. I am not hungry. I don't like eating. I don't want to eat.

Hearing those words upset him, but he made up his mind that he's going to get you to eat.

He came to your room at different times with a variety of food and asked you to try them.

You thought he was clueless and asked you to eat because he loved food. Until one day you asked him why he cared whether or not you ate.

Beel replied, "humans need to eat to survive, don't they? Don't neglect your health...I don't want anything to happen to you."

Belphie

Belphie learned that just like him, you slept a lot, and from then on, he randomly showed up in your room to take naps with you.

He snuck into your room and saw you stirring in your sleep. He figured you were having a nightmare and tried to wake you up.

To his shock, you woke up screaming.

"Hey, relax. It was just a nightmare..."

Your expressions suggested otherwise, and Belphie picked up on this. “(Y/N), you don't sleep all day because you like to sleep...right?"

From that day on, he came to spend more time with you, be it to nap or not.

"Belphie, why are you doing this?"

"You are my dear friend, aren't you? I care for you and want to spend more time with you to let you know that you're not alone."

He doesn't bluntly state that he is aware that you are suffering, but his words are enough to hint that he knows.

Asmo

Asmo noticed that you weren't taking care of yourself. You were even neglecting your daily personal hygiene.

"Sweetie, you need to take care of yourself. Daily care is important for your health." He proceeded to give you a little lecture on routine care.

You assumed that he was saying this because self-care and maintenance of appearance are important to him.

Asmo noticed your expression and kneeled in front of you, taking both of your hands in his. "Dear, you don't need to be so hard on yourself. I know it's easier said than done."

He doesn't push you tell him what's on your mind; instead, Asmo says, "I am here to listen to you if you want to talk, and I am here to help you in any way you need me to."

He helped you to your feet and smiled, "Sweetie, I care about you a lot...just as much as I care about my brothers. Now, let's get you cleaned up."

Satan

For the past few days, Satan noticed that you were angrier than usual and were easily irritated.

"It's my 'job' to be angry." He joked but noticed that you didn't take it well and asked, "What is making you this upset?"

"Do you care?"

"Yes, I do. You are part of my family, so it's only natural for me to care."

Satan was shocked to see you speechless. As he studied your reaction, something dawned upon him - this possibly couldn't be the first time you heard this, right?

He didn't want to touch on any sensitive subjects or topics; instead, he rested his hand on your shoulder and said, "letting go of the past is difficult. I would know better than anyone, but you need to try."

Satan smiled gently and added, "You are the reason why I learned to get along with Lucifer, and you're the one who brought this family together. Now, it's my turn to return the favor."

Levi

You locked yourself in your room for a few days, and everyone was worried, especially Levi.

He asked you to come to his room because he needs to show you something.

When you got there, he handed you a controller and urged you to play a short game.

As you proceeded in the game, you realized the story seemed familiar. A lonely MC suffering from hate and meeting seven brothers.

Each brother told MC that he cared for them and wanted to see them happy.

At the end of the game, the brother resembling Levi appeared on the screen and said, "you are not only my favorite normie but are also my best friend. I can relate to you and know how you feel, so please don't suffer alone. Let's suffer together!"

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me asmo #obey me satan #obey me levi #obey me headcanons #obey me diavolo #obey barbatos

592 notes · View notes

chicgeekgirl89 · 2 years

Text

A Soft Place to Land

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, Andrea Reyes

A/N: Boy needs his mom so I sent him home. I wrote this after the first ep of Season 3 and I am feeling very vindicated in my inclusion of Andrea Reyes since Tim has let it slip that we're seeing her in ep 4. Also, it’s not often I make myself cry with my own fic, but this one did it.

@bluenet13 is the best beta reader I could ever ask for and the only reason anything gets done around here. Thanks friend!

Read on AO3

He didn’t know why he’d come to the ranch. He’d just…found himself here. Likely because he didn’t know where else to go.

It had been two weeks since his life had fallen apart. Every carefully made plan, every hope and dream evaporated, gone, leaving him wandering through the darkness of each day alone. Truly alone, because he hadn’t told a single soul. His pain was too unreal, too deep seated for him to speak the words aloud. It was like he was in shock and couldn’t quite get himself re-oriented in his new reality.

He’d spent every night since driving. There were miles of open road outside of town, so after his shift he’d get in the Camaro and drive until he was so exhausted that he dropped into his bed and fell instantly asleep. When he was driving his thoughts chased him, but they couldn’t catch up.

Tonight he’d only realized where he was when the road ran out and he’d found himself in the driveway. The house was dark, no one was home, which meant it was probably Tuesday. On Tuesdays his mom went to Bible study and his dad did his one overnight shift a week. That was fine. He wasn’t good company for anyone right now.

He should have just turned around and driven away, but some compulsion or other made him get out of the car and use his key to enter the kitchen. The stove light was on, casting a warm, honey colored glow over the room. His eyes found the long kitchen table, it’s top bearing the scars of years of family meals. Kids, grandkids, cousins, tíos and tías had all gathered around it time and time again, eating, drinking, playing games, doing homework, cooking meals. This table was a part of the family as much as any person sharing his DNA.

He’d grown up at this table.

He’d brought T.K. to this table.

Tears rose to the surface and he turned away, brushing them off with the back of his hand. There was no point in crying over broken history, even if its jagged edges were cutting away at him like a knife.

He forced himself to move, his hands pulling open the pantry door. He’d just grab a couple jars of salsa and scribble a note to his mom so she didn’t bring the entire Texas Ranger force in to investigate a burglary committed by her own son of the family’s secret recipe, then he’d be on his way.

He was searching for a pen when the overhead light snapped on, surprising him completely. Apparently breaking up with the love of his life was a great way to send his police officer observation skills down the toilet.

“Carlitos!” His mother put a hand to her heart. “You scared me! What are you doing here so late?”

“Sorry,” he said, holding up a jar giving her a wan smile. “I just came by for salsa.”

“You were only going to take one jar? You can have more than that mijo, I made a big batch with Tía Gloria last week,” Andrea said, putting down her purse and opening the cupboard to pull out two more.

“No, Ma, one is fine,” Carlos protested, already knowing it was in vain. He was going to be lucky to leave here with less than six or seven Tupperwares full of food. None of which he was hungry for.

“I’ll give you some of the enchiladas I made last night too,” she said, pausing to look him up and down. “You look skinny.”

She wasn’t wrong; he probably had lost weight. He hadn’t really had much of an appetite the last couple weeks as his carefully built life had unraveled around him and sent him crashing to his knees.

“Oh! And I have some of those Mexican candies T.K. likes,” she said, turning toward the pantry.

Her words had him gripping the counter for support. The hole that had been ripped in his chest by the breakup still felt like a fresh wound, bleeding and raw, so much so that he nearly gasped for air, a hand going up to rub the spot right over where his heart had previously lived.

His mom was talking about his sister Teresa’s promotion at work and Carlos was nodding and “mm’ing” in what he thought were the right places, but inside he felt like he was dying. Like he was caving inward, broken beyond repair, a shell of a person. He tried to remind himself that he’d had a life before T.K., a good, fully, happy life, but he couldn’t remember what that looked like anymore. He only felt alone and bereft and—

“Carlos?”

Oh crap. He must have stopped responding. His eyes refocused and he found his mother looking at him intently. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted corn tortillas. I bought some at the market, your father and I will never eat them all.”

“Sure, yes,” Carlos nodded. “Tortillas would be great.”

She set down the Tupperware in her hands, studying him from across the kitchen. “Why did you really come here tonight?”

He shuffled his feet. “I told you, the salsa.”

“You and I both know that you can make your own salsa. Do you really think I raised five children and don’t know when I’m being lied to?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, even though he could feel his grip on his emotions weakening under the weight of her gaze. The words coming out of his mouth didn’t even sound like him. “Just salsa.”

She put her hands on her hips, her eyes soft, gentle, inviting. “Talk to me mi amor. Tell me what’s hurting you.”

His eyes found the table again. The table where she’d cared for him and his sisters and anyone else who had walked through their door. The table that meant home and love and family. The table where she’d bandaged his skinned knee and wiped away his tears when he was six, where she’d consoled him at age twelve when Teresa had left for college, where she’d hugged him tightly when his team had lost the state championship his junior year of high school.

He’d spent hours in this kitchen being consoled by his mother when he was at his absolute lowest, and it had called him here tonight once again. He was broken and she was his mom and he needed her right now.

“Mama, T.K. and I—we—” He was finally ready to speak, but in this moment he found there were no words. Not a single one that could explain the agony inside him.

A choked sob burst out and once the dam broke he couldn’t stop it. He clutched at the counter, tears falling freely, gasping for air that refused to fill his lungs, everything inside of him pouring out on a wave of anguishing heartbreak.

“Oh Carlitos,” she said, with all the sympathy of a mother who feels every pain her child has as if it’s her own.

She gathered him into her arms as if he were a kid again, holding him while he cried, while he finally released all of the pent up grief and broken dreams.

“I just thought,” he managed after a while, his voice weak and pained. “I thought he was the one. I thought we were forever. And I was—I was wrong.”

She reached out and brushed a curl from his forehead. “Just because things are not working now, does not mean you were wrong.”

Carlos shook his head. “Dad is always telling me to trust my gut, and I thought I was. It felt real. And now it feels like it was a lie. That I lied to myself the entire time, seeing things that weren’t really there.”

“Oh mijo, just because you are hurting, doesn’t mean it was a lie. It’s because you are hurting that you know it was true. If the love hadn’t been real, you would not feel so sad that it’s gone.” She squeezed his arm. “Tell me what happened.”

This time the words came, haltingly at first, then faster, spilling out of him as if they’d spent the last two weeks trying to escape and were finally free of the confines of his body. He’d been falling for days and his mother had provided him with a soft place to land.

“There’s just no working it out this time,” he said when he was done, voice hoarse from speaking and exhaustion. “We’re broken. I’ve lost him.”

“If I could give you all the answers and take your pain away, I would,” Andrea told him. “I would give you the heart out of my body if you needed it, but since I cannot fix this for you I will simply tell you this: Lost things can be found again.” She put her hands on his cheeks. “And broken things can be mended.” She kissed his forehead. “Stay tonight. You shouldn’t drive home like this.”

She turned away and opened the fridge. “Sit. I have lasagna. You need to eat something. What would Tía Maria say if she saw you like this? She would tell me I’m a bad mother for letting you starve.”

His world was falling apart and his mother offered lasagna. Because Andrea Reyes believed all problems looked a little less problematic when you had eaten something and been told how much she loved you.

Tonight he wasn’t sure it was going to work. But it was less miserable than being alone in his car. At least it felt like home.

#911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Tarlos #Andrea Reyes #Carlos Reyes #Break up fic #Angst #Feels #Crying #Carlos is so sad #And needs his mom #Tarlos fic #911 Lone Star fic

16 notes · View notes

tt0bu · 3 years

Text

Periwinkles

Originally posted at AO3

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: GiyuuTan

The first time Kamado Tanjirou met Tomioka Giyuu, he was eight years old.

His Ma and Pa came out of the back door, away from their old oven where the last batch of the shokupan was left to sit, maybe to burn, since little Tanjirou thought something must be wrong. There was haste in his father’s steps, hurried and careful. His mother’s strides were stiff, nervous, unsure. Nezuko, his little sister, was pulling on the grass where she sat, streaks of bright sunlight bouncing off her giggling face.

Tanjirou watched his parents trek up to the end of the street on that little hill in the middle of a city they call home.

He saw every adult from the neighborhood walk the same path, disappearing behind the gates of Nishida-san’s house.

Except for one unfamiliar uncle.

The said uncle, who looked too western, who looked like those uncles from foreigner spy movies his father loved watching, stood unmoving under the waiting shed just across the Kamados’ home. He was looking towards the end of the street too, where all the adults had disappeared, but made no move to follow. He was holding a black book close to his chest, and little Tanjirou couldn’t see anything aside from three blue lines on the cover of it.

New neighbor? “Uncle!” he called out to the man, jumping on his feet and waving his little palm enthusiastically. His young mind wouldn’t have noticed, but whenever Tanjirou would look back to this moment, he finds it weird how everything just disappeared – no adult to reprimand him because he was talking to a stranger, no chirping of the sparrows perched on the wisteria tree behind their fence, no sound from the nearby train station.

Maybe he dislikes being called uncle? The unfamiliar man with raven black hair and pale skin didn’t heed his call, not sparing a glance at the curious boy trying to catch his attention. Tanjirou took the man’s cold demeanor as a sign of discomfort, probably because he may be new to the neighbourhood. But it did not stop him from crossing the street, diligently looking to his left and right, twice to be absolutely sure, just like how his Pa taught him.

“Uncle,” his tiny hands pulled at the hem of the coat the pale man wore.

Tanjirou saw how the most beautiful pair of eyes, blue like the noon skies and the periwinkles he picks behind the hill where the Hashibiras live, looked down on his little self with disbelief. The man continued to gawk on him, gaping and frozen in his place. He clutched the thick book closer to his chest, tightening his grasp on its spine. The blue lines seemed to shimmer, a quick flash of shine running through the three lines, but Tanjirou thought nothing of it. After all, it’s almost naptime, his eyes may be playing tricks on him at the moment.

“You-“ the pale man with the clothes of a spy and the eyes of the sky swallowed, eyeing little Tanjirou with hesitation. “-you can see me?”

“Uhhh,” Tanjirou looked around, but neither his parents nor the neighbor uncles and aunts were in sight. “Am I not supposed to? Are you hiding from anyone?”

“How, how is this possible?” the boy heard the pale man whispered, his own burgundy eyes examining the leather shoes he wore. Those are pretty shoes, but he never saw his father wear one. Maybe, when he gets a little bigger, he will get the same pair for his Pa. “You never saw me before. Not even once, not even when you d-“ the man with blue eyes bit his bottom lips and stopped muttering to himself. “What’s the difference this time?”

“Uh-oh, no,” Tanjirou shook his head, the hanafuda card earrings swaying along his movement. “Are you new here, Uncle? Are you lost? My Ma and Pa went to Nishida-san’s house but if you’re hungry I can get you these anpans my Pa made! They sell out really, really fast and I’m lucky Ma keeps some for me and my little sister before taking them to the store-“

By the time Tanjirou realised the lost uncle was never really listening to him in the first place, he could already hear the faint wailing and sobbing from the house at the end of the street. However, before he could ask, he heard the lost uncle take a shaky breath, pinching the base of his nose in annoyance, Tanjirou wasn’t sure, before carefully opening his book to a certain page. The pale uncle traced what the little burgundy-haired boy could only imagine were words, before softly uttering the name he knew very well.

“Nishida Sora. 58. Lung disease.”

“Oh!” Tanjirou bounced on his feet at the idea. “You know Nishida-san? Are you here for him? If you don’t know where he lives, just walk to the end of the street. You’ll see a really huge wooden gate with crow carvings. That’s where he lives!”

The pale, blue-eyed uncle didn’t even acknowledge his words.

“If you want, I can walk with you. I just need to take Nezuko with-“

The lost uncle gently tugged on his collar to stop him from running back to their home. “I know where it is, tiny human.”

“Owwkay, big human!” The man visibly grimaced at his words, yet Tanjirou beamed. “Are you his doctor?”

The big human seemed to be ignoring him again.

“Sensei?”

“Uncle?”

“Sir?”

“Grandpa?”

“Grandpa? Do I look that old?” Blue eyes met tiny burgundy ones again, offended, making Tanjirou giggle on the back of his hand. The little boy just shrugged, rocking back and forth on the heel of his feet. He saw the uncle sighed once more before shaking his head. “Cheeky tiny human.”

Tanjirou pretended to know what cheeky meant, tilting his head to the side to get a proper look at the man who was ignoring him a minute ago. “Are you Nishidan-san’s relative? I can introduce you if you want?”

“No. I am here to collect.”

“Collect? Collect what? Stones? Bugs? Ohhh! I know a great spot to catch emperor beetles! Inosuke-chan always catches the biggest ones though and Zenitsu-chan’s just a scaredy cat so we don’t have to worry-“

“No, not that. Not beetles. Look-” This time, the man crouched to the little boy’s eye level, and with the close up view of his blue eyes, Tanjirou thought he was staring at the sky itself. “You shouldn’t be seeing me. You shouldn’t be talking to me.”

“I can see you though. I have eyes, Uncle. Ma said they’re very pretty.”

“That’s true – uhum.” The big human coughed to his fist, hiding his face. Tanjirou wanted to ask if he was alright and should he fetch this uncle a glass of water? But the man faced him again, gone was his coughing fit. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to talk to strangers?”

“They did.”

“And?”

Little Tanjirou tapped his finger against his chin, pursing his lips, deep in his childish thoughts. “You seem lonely, and Ma said if one of my classmates smelled lonely, I should do something to cheer them up!” He tugged on the hand of the pale uncle, jumping slightly at how cold his palm felt. “What’s your name? I’m Tanjirou!”

“I don’t have a name.”

“Boo! Don’t be silly!” Tanjirou giggled like a child on a swing flying into the air. “Everybody has a name!”

“Not me.”

“But I told you mine!” Tanjirou stomped his little feet on the concrete pavement of the empty street, throwing a tantrum. His father would give him a good scolding, maybe a little spanking, should he see the burgundy-haired boy giving others troubles. Remembering his father’s words, Tanjirou decided to attack from a different angle.

“Hey, hey – hey, oh, come on.” The blue-eyed man crouched again, meeting teary, burgundy orbs and blushing cheeks. “What now? Why are you crying?”

“Because you wouldn’t tell me your name!” Tanjirou wailed louder, acting like a spoiled little kid which is nothing like him, all because he wanted to befriend this uncle who has the bluest eyes, who looked like a spy.

The big human exhaled, evidently troubled, while Tanjirou beamed. “Fine. You can call me Yuu.”

“Yuu-chan!”

“Not Yuu-chan. Yuu. Yuu.”

“Yuu-chan!”

“Why am I even trying,” Yuu-chan whispered mostly to himself, and Tanjirou’s grin grew wider. “I need to go. Nishida Sora will be here any moment. Is that your house?”

Tanjirou followed where his Yuu-chan was pointing. Red, wooden gates, unlit house lanterns, an old service truck with Kamado Bakery hand painted on its back. Yep. That’s their house. “Yes, Yuu-chan! I live there!”

“Come.” The little burgundy-haired boy tilted his head slightly to the side, confused. Uncle Yuu-chan seemed to understand his unspoken question. “I’ll walk you back to your home.”

Years later, when Tanjirou would look back to that moment, he would laugh at the memory of what he would always fondly call as his first brush with death. But his little self wouldn’t realize that, enjoying the coldness of Yuzu-chan’s palm against his own, celebrating his newfound friendship. He wouldn’t catch how Nezuko, as young as she was, got confused about him laughing on his own, hand raised in the air like he was holding something invisible.

Later that night, delirious from a high fever, Tanjirou dreamt of blue skies and periwinkles and spies invading Japan in crisp suits.

“I heard you spoke to humans today, Giyuu.”

“Human. A tiny human, Shinobu. So what of it?”

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“He has the gift of Sight!”

“Just be careful, Giyuu. They may let this slip up pass, but we both know consequences are harsh. There’s a reason we never interact with living, breathing humans.”

“I know.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Tanjirou would always look out of his room’s window, ceremoniously, watching each and every adult passing on their street. He was lucky enough to have his room on the upper floor, albeit slightly hating the room during summertime when the sun would burn through the roof. But it was the perfect place, for he can spot Yuu-chan from the crossing.

He mentioned Yuu-chan one evening at dinner, and even when his Ma and Pa was glad he made the new neighbor feel welcomed, they expressed their interest in getting to know the blue-eyed man. He even overheard them talking about it when he went for a pee and his parents were in the living room watching old spy movies again.

“Tanjirou said he’s a new neighbor. But we didn’t hear anyone moving here.”

His father’s kind voice cut through his mother’s worried one. “I’m sure he’s just a passerby.”

“But what if...”

“Don’t worry, if anything, he may be talking about an imaginary friend. Yuu-chan seemed harmless.”

Imaginary? He’s pretty sure Yuu-chan is real! But even if he wanted to defend his ‘not-imaginary’ friend, he would hear his Ma’s voice reminding him to never eavesdrop at adult conversations, Tanjirou. So he let them be, did his business, and went back to sleep. He decided between dreams that he would invite Yuu-chan to his home one day.

But Yuu-chan never showed up at his street again for a long time.

It was snowing when Tanjirou saw him once more. Not the harsh, unpleasant winter, but enough to color the world white. He was clothed from head to toe, layers over layers of protective shirts, mittens and socks. His Ma had always been careful, reminding him that it would be awful to catch a cold during Christmastime.

He was permitted to accompany his Ma on her trip to the local hospital to drop their freshly baked breads and pastries, a Kamado tradition during the holidays. His parents would wake up really early to prepare for it, kneading doughs and cooking fillings because it would mean the world for the health workers if they can get savoury curry pans or their bestselling anpans in between shifts.

Tanjirou watched as his mother dropped the box on the counter, the hospital guard behind her bringing the second one. From the corner of his eyes, on the far-end of the long, white, empty corridor, stood a man who seemed too familiar to him. Before he could even think, Tanjirou let go of his mother’s dress, walking hastily to catch up, sprinting into a full run when the figure headed for the door.

Yuu-chan?

Tanjirou really did his best to catch up, but his tiny legs could only do so much, the stranger who bore resemblance to Yuu-chan got further away even when he pushed against the floor with all his strength. He did not hear his mother’s faint cry, calling his name, wondering where on earth would his first born go and who he was chasing after. But Tanjirou only had one thing in his mind.

“Yuu-chan!” He pushed the heavy glass door open with his little hands, no guard to hold it for him since the man helped his Ma haul the box of pastries inside. But the stranger, with the same black hair cascading below his shoulders in a loose bun, the same crisp gray suit, the same lonely, closed off scent, didn’t acknowledge the pet name. So he tried, hoping to get a reaction, his young heart clenching in sadness because why wouldn’t Yuu-chan want to talk to him? How did his collection go? Would he know if Nishida-san was really gone? “Yuu!”

The man continued walking, past the gates, leaving no chance for the boy to catch up. Tanjirou watched as Yuu-chan turned right to the sidewalk, disappearing behind the brick wall. He wanted to run and give chase even when his lungs felt like it was shrinking in exhaustion, his legs numb from the sprint, his head aching from the lack of oxygen. But before he could move, a gentle yet firm hand grabbed him by his left shoulder, spun him around and before he even realized, his Ma’s comforting and worried scent enveloped him.

“Don’t you dare do that again, my boy.” His Ma whispered in his hair, running her palm up and down Tanjirou’s back to let him know he wasn’t in trouble. “You scared me Tanjirou. What was that about?”

“Sorry Ma,” he was suddenly sobbing, partly because Yuu-chan ignored him like he was a stranger, but mainly because his Ma’s scent was so distressed, anguished, and he never wanted to make his Ma feel that way again. “I-“ a hiccup. “I saw Yuu-chan and I wanted to say hi but-“ another hiccup, and he reached up to wipe the snot dribbling from his nose with the back of his hand. “-but maybe he didn’t like to be my friend anymore.”

“Oh Tanjirou,” his Ma cooed, embracing him tightly against her chest, occasionally wiping his son’s face with her handkerchief. If she noticed that there were no fresh footprints on the snow, no signs of another human being around, she never said a word. Even when she saw his son calling out Yuu-chan to an empty corridor, running after a formless person, she never mentioned a thing. His son doesn’t need anymore heartbreaks on Christmastime, and doesn’t need to hear about how this Yuu-chan is only a fragment of his imagination.

Year: 1945

Month: April

Day: 26

Battle of Okinawa

Giyuu stood in the middle of the dense foliage, on the isolated island of Okinawa, as he watched soldier after soldier fall to their death at the hand of the enemy. Bombs would go off in the distance, their detonation shaking the earth. But he stood unmoving, completely in displeased awe, because this was a scene he had witnessed numerous times before.

“I will never understand humans and their obsession with war.” Makomo stepped quietly to the ground beside Giyuu, and he knew his fellow collector shared his facial expression. They were tired of humans killing each other, hurting each other, to satisfy their greed and hunger. “It hurts Them, these pointless endeavour of humans to best each other.”

“How many have you got?” He chose to ask instead, because even if they wanted to do something, they’re merely collectors. Humans and their dumb ways of dying were out of their duty; they were just sent to collect their due.

“Considering the numbers of soldiers on this island and the guarantee that not even a fourth will come out alive?” Makomo opened her book, flipping several pages. “A lot. You?”

“Thinking about the cups of tea I have to prepare for Choosing already wore me out.”

“Don’t worry, Giyuu. Kyojurou, Mitsuri, and Tengen are here too. Who knows, maybe the numbers are off and we won’t have to collect these much considering the collectors present?”

“When was the book ever wrong, Makomo?”

“Don’t ruin my optimism!”

Their little banter to pass time came to an end when a young, bleeding soldier ran towards their way, a group of foreign forces hot on his trail. He hid behind the trunk of a fallen tree, crying and clutching his jammed rifle to his chest. Giyuu only saw a part of his hair, black like his own, peeking under the helmet he wore on his head. Soot and mud dirtied his young face, but what caught the blue-eyed collector’s interest was his fierce, burgundy eye.

Eye, because his right was shut close, blood covering the half of his face.

“This is what I hate the most.” Makomo opened her book again, tracing the names under her watch. Once she located what she needed, she clicked her tongue in frustration. “Beautiful, innocent souls like him who get dragged to a war he did not wish for. Do you think he cries because he knows he’ll never see his family again? Or perhaps, because he killed another human even when he didn’t even want to fight this war?”

“I think he’s praying.”

“Should we listen to his words?”

“What? No, that’s private.” Giyuu looked at his companion with slight horror in his expression. “He prays to Them, and we can’t disrespect this young soldier’s last minute on this land.”

“I’m just kidding!” Makomo poked him on his cheek, but immediately turned when footstep grew nearer. When they saw the group of soldiers who gave chase surround the praying man, Makomo tucked her book in her arms and whispered. “It’s almost time, little soldier. I’m sorry your family will never see your beautiful eyes again.”

Giyuu decided to leave and do his part of the job too. He gave one last glance at the praying soldier, only to see one of the enemy hammer the heel of his rifle down to the wounded soldier’s forehead. Said soldier slumped against the trunk, but Giyuu thought he saw enough and turned around in haste.

A blunt force like that would likely scar, and he hoped it won’t seep through the soul. But it had been a traumatic experience for the young soldier with burgundy eyes, spending his last minutes alive surrounded by unfriendly faces. That wound would be a birthmark in most cases, but Giyuu hoped this soldier wouldn’t carry the wound to his next life should he choose to be reborn.

Tanjirou reached for the towel as he straightened his back, wiping away the droplets of water on his face. He absentmindedly traced the birth mark on his forehead as he brushed his teeth, his mind going over his plans for the day. He will meet Inosuke and Zenitsu at the latter’s grandpa’s house for a group study in preparation for their high school entrance exam. On his way back, he has to buy cough drops for his Pa who refused to see a doctor and will always counter their arguments with all I need is a good night sleep and plenty of water.

There’s nothing much to do for the day but to study, he figured, so he stuffed all his textbooks and notes into his bag and rode his bike to the Hashibiras to collect his friend. Inosuke thrashed like a bug lying on its back, complaining about why he always gets to sit and not pedal. He said he bets he’s a much better rider than Gonpachiro.

“It’s my bike, Inosuke. That’s why.”

“You’re just afraid I’m better at bikes than you, Monjirou.”

Zenitsu once told him, back when they were young, that Inosuke would actually get their name right after seven tries. I counted, his blond friend would say, because he kept yelling at me and shoving worms and beetles and acorn nuts in my face. Tanjirou tried to keep track the first few months after knowing the dumb fact, but eventually grew tired counting the wrong names before he could hear the right one.

The burgundy-haired teenager squeezed on the breaks, the rubber tires squeaking against the asphalt. He then got off, and gestured for Inosuke to take the handlebar grip. “Pedal away, Inosuke-sama.”

“Ha!” His loud friend thumped his back, with the aggressiveness that would match his excessive energy. Tanjirou had to step a foot forward to stop himself from toppling over. “I knew choosing you as my favorite friend was the right decision!”

Tanjirou shook his head with a little laugh. “Oh, what an honor!”

“Stop daydreaming and get on already! I can’t wait to run Monitsu over!”

“Don’t do that Inosuke.” Tanjirou transferred his backpack to his front, facing the opposite direction, watching the hills roll as his friend pedalled vigorously downhill. He only realised his mistake when they zoomed past the gate of Zenitsu’s home. “Inosuke, stop! Don’t go too fast –“ Tanjirou looked back to see his blond friend getting smaller and smaller until he was just a tiny dot of yellow. “ – we’ve passed by Zenitsu’s house! Turned around!” He shouted over his shoulder, closer to his friend’s ear. “Inosuke! TURN AROUND!”

Without a warning, Inosuke swiveled a hundred and eighty degrees, not knowing he had almost threw Tanjirou off. The burgundy-haired miserable back rider yelped in surprise and fear for his life. But before he could complain, Inosuke started pedalling again with the same intensity, Tanjirou thought he would die on the ride back to where Zenitsu’s home is. Good thing his friend waved and jumped, catching Inosuke’s attention, and the boy squeezed on the break so hard they almost did a cartwheel with the bike.

Never again, Tanjirou thought, as he combed back his hair. I refuse to ride a bike with Inosuke ever again.

“Wow,” Zenitsu stared at the two of them from head to toe. “I’m surprised you didn’t get into an accident.”

“He’s a walking accident.” Tanjirou pointed at his friend who wore his favorite boar shirt. “I am not getting on a bike with you again.”

“Just admit I’m better than you!”

Zenitsu pushed the two of them inside before their pointless discussion lengthened, the three greeting grandpa Jigoro along the way. Soon they fell into a series of question and answer, index cards and flashcards flying across the room. Inosuke would constantly complain about math and why did he have to learn such useless things. Zenitsu would also complain about Inosuke’s complaints, but would snatch away the problem, solve it for the boy, and explain how he got 12 as the value of X.

“Uhhhh,” Tanjirou stretched his arms, arching his back to pop the joints as he stood from their table. “I’m going for a quick konbini run. Anything you guys want?”

“Didn’t you bring any snacks from the bakery?”

“We didn’t open today. Pa’s sick.”

“Onigiri and Nissin for me, Tontaro!”

“Same, but I want tamago sando instead of onigiri.”

“Then it’s not the same, stupid butter head!”

“Bold of you to call me stupid when you’re the walking definition of the word!”

Tanjirou didn’t want to witness the inevitable wrestling match to which Inosuke would mercilessly hug Zenitsu from the back to squeeze out his oxygen, so he excused himself without saying a word. He checked for his wallet before mounting his bike. He didn’t spot any konbini on the way, so he decided to try the opposite street so see if there’s a nearby store. To his luck, he saw the green and red signboard a couple of streets away.

He parked his bike on the sidewalk as he repeated his friends’ choice of snack over and over again to make sure he wouldn’t forget. He opted for a katsu sando and a bag of potato chips, carrying all the food he picked to the counter. Just as the girl behind the register dropped the change to his open hands, he caught a hauntingly familiar figure, through the glass walls of the konbini, with the identical black book held against his chest.

No way.

Yuu-chan?

He quickly grabbed the brown paper bag after throwing a hurried sankyu to the cashier , pushing the doors with his shoulder. He then left the bag on the basket of his bike, before taking off to run after his Yuu-chan. Why didn’t he take the bike instead, Tanjirou could no longer think rationally because he couldn’t believe he’s about to see Yuu’s after all these years.

Was his eyes playing tricks on him again?

Because there’s just no way the person he was made to believe wasn’t real and was just a part of his childhood imagination was actually there. He looked exactly the same; charcoal gray three piece suit, light blue dress shirt, and a navy blue necktie. Just like the spies from his Pa’s old movies he often dreamt about.

“Yuu-chan!” He could no longer contain his excitement, jumping on the back of the man when he was an arm length away. But Yuu quickly turned around, reached for his wrist, effortlessly twisting it in a quick, practiced movement. Tanjirou didn’t manage to introduce himself because his wrist hurt and was twisted in a very awkward way, he thought he might snap it any second. “Ow, ow, ow, ow! It’s me, Yuu-chan! It’s me! Ow!”

As quick as Yuu grabbed him, the man immediately let him go once recognition dawned on his face. “Tiny human?”

“Wow, you remembered me!” Tanjirou beamed, the same wide smile he wore the first time he met Yuu. He almost forgot about those periwinkle eyes and snow white skin as he tried to bury the memory of the day when Nishida-san succumbed to lung cancer. “I almost thought you weren’t real, like a story of make believe I came up with in a desperate attempt to make friends.” Yuu-chan looked away, and Tanjirou wished he could read whatever was on the man’s mind. “It’s been seven years, Yuu-chan.”

“I owe you no explanation, tiny human.” Yuu-chan continued to look away, his blue eyes never meeting Tanjirou’s burgundy ones. “I never agreed to being friends.”

“But you remembered me, big human.”

Yuu-chan flinched. “My work involves a lot of names, and a mistake would result in grave consequences.” The man tucked his book in his arm again, turning around to walk away. “Go home and stop following me.”

“You sound like you’re just making excuses!” Tanjirou continued to annoy the man, hoping to make him talk more because his voice was somehow calming. He didn’t know where the boldness came from, but before he could think, he reached for Yuu’s hands, cold as ever, and pulled him towards the empty bus stop across the street. It should have been strange, with the absence of people on the street and the silence in the air, but Tanjirou didn’t notice. “Come with me! I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“What are you doing?” Yuu-chan gently freed his arm from Tanjirou, keeping it inside the pockets of his pants this time. “This is dangerous. Please keep your distance.”

“Why do you talk so formally, Yuu-chan? Come sit beside me!”

Tanjirou watched as the man glared at the innocent bench, burning holes in it as he considered his options. All the while Tanjirou’s wide grin never wavered, choosing to observe quietly as Yuu-chan argues with himself. The man looked like he never aged at all, like the past seven years were merely a week for him.

“You won’t stop until I indulge you, would you?”

“Nope!” Tanjirou bounced in his seat, grinning triumphantly.

“Fine.” Yuu-chan finally took a seat, a meter away from him. “But you shall not cross this distance.”

“What? Why? I’m not sick!” Tanjirou whined but immediately shut his mouth when Yuu glared at him. There was no hostility, but Yuu-chan has the ability to disappear from his sight, like how he did the past years, so Tanjirou chose not to push his luck further and truly anger the man. “Alright, no need to kill me with you eyes. Very pretty eyes I must say.”

Tanjirou’s throat tightened, and if he was standing, his knees would have buckled from the intensity of Yuu’s eyes. At first he thought the man didn’t like praises, didn’t like talking to him, but he continued staring. Tanjirou, unsure on what to do, chose not to meet Yuu’s eyes as he tried his best not to crumble because the weight of his stare makes the burgundy-haired boy melt.

To his surprise, Yuu, who was so adamant to observe distance, pushed against the metal bench and stood in front of him. Tanjirou raised his head to look at him, but Yuu-chan’s cold fingers brushed against his forehead. Chilly wind blew past them, causing strands of burgundy hairs to fall, but the cold fingers were there to brush them back up. Tanjirou couldn’t help but shiver, due to the wind or the cold skin, he couldn’t tell.

“Is there something wrong?” He managed to ask even when the chill he felt crept up from his lungs to his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

“This,” Yuu ran the pad of his thumb over the mark, twice, before tracing the outlines. “Was this always here? I didn’t – “ He stammered, as if he couldn’t make a sentence out of his train of thought. “ – seven years ago – “

“Oh, this?” Tanjirou instinctively reached up, not expecting a cold hand meeting his own where his sturdy forehead should be. “It had been there as far as I can remember. It just got bigger as I grew older. Seven years ago, it was just this tiiiiiiny thing, you could have mistaken it for a scar.”

He heard the blue-eyed man, who was acting so strange that day, mumbled something under his breath. It was so soft, Tanjirou could have heard three different languages, because even when there were no cars, no people around, he still didn’t understand the incoherence mumbling. Tough luck, for he has lost his gift of keen nose after turning ten, so he has absolutely no idea what this strangeness was all about.

“Does it hurt?” he heard Yuu-chan ask as he pulled his cold fingers away. But he didn’t step back to create a meter of distance again, much to Tanjirou’s delight. “Does it bother you?”

“Not really, no,” he bit his lip, recalling a stupid myth Zenitsu recounted once when they were nine. “They said birthmarks were signs of how a person died in his past life, but that just sounds silly to me.”

Tanjirou looked up, hoping to see Yuu share his opinion about the absurdity of the myth. But he only saw anxious eyes which couldn’t meet his, lips flattened into a straight line, brows furrowed. “Sometimes, old stories passed down with words of mouth would hide a truth or two.”

“Are you telling me - ” Tanjirou’s voice climbed a pitch higher, trying to suppress his laughter after considering that he had a life before this. “ – that I died from a blunt force trauma to the head in my past life? Was I murdered?”

“Don’t be silly,” Tanjirou wanted to scoff because Yuu-chan dared call him silly when he was just spouting nonsense about old stories and hidden truths a minute ago. “Besides, is that your only birthmark?”

Immediately Tanjirou crossed arms over his chest, balling the shirt he wore with his hidden palms. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t spooked at Yuu-chan’s question, because he sounded like an honestly curious man, but his instinct pushed him to cross his arms over his chest where a different set of marks hide. “How did you know about that?”

“Know about what?” Yuu asked back, and Tanjirou couldn’t determine if he was feigning ignorance. “I was just asking.”

Tanjirou gulped the knot on his throat, suddenly feeling stupid about his fascination with his own birthmarks. Science has explanations for these, there must be, so he shouldn’t be bothered by Yuu-chan’s vagueness or Zenitsu’s old stories. He was about to ask the man where he went and why he didn’t see him again, but Yuu was suddenly flipping a page of the book he was carrying over and over again. “What are you doing, Yuu-chan? Looking for something?” Tanjirou tried to peek at the pages, but Yuu-chan pivoted his body around to keep the book out of his sight. “I can help?”

“This is strange.” Yuu flipped the page again like he was trying to see if flipping back and forth would make a change to what was already written in the book. Tanjirou wanted to laugh at Yuu-chan’s endless turning of the page, but the man seemed troubled. “How did this happen?”

“How did what happen?” He was never proud of his nosiness, but it was harmless, he thought. He just wanted to help and stop Yuu-chan from tearing the poor page out of the book. The same book, with three blue lines spreading out horizontally, he was carrying back then.

“I was here to collect, ” Yuu shut the book close, tucking it under his arm once again. “But it seemed I was mistaken. I need to go.”

Collect? Like Nishida-san? Tanjirou wanted to ask, but such things weren’t easy to explain, and he wasn’t even sure he was ready to accept Yuu-chan’s secret, if there is one. He chose not to define who Yuu is, all that matters is that he was there again, talking to him, no longer ignoring him.

Tanjirou knew Yuu was going to disappear again. To where, he had no idea, but at least now, he was sure Yuu wasn’t just a part of his imagination. He felt him, his cold touch, his intense stare. Yet he couldn’t help but feel lonely for no reason at all. “Will I see you again?”

“Perhaps,” was Yuu-chan’s answer which offered no comfort to the boy. Perhaps could mean another seven years, or never again. Perhaps isn’t a guaranteed yes, sounding more like a gentle no. “These meetings wouldn’t benefit the both of us, and could put you in danger. Think of it as breaking the law, tiny human.”

Because more spies will be watching. This he knew, after seeing crisps suits blending in the crowds, peach hair and platinum, purple and aqua eyes. Yet he pulled Yuu to an embrace, burying his face on the folds of his three piece suit. “I stopped dreaming about you. For reasons unknown to me, I kept seeing you in my dreams when I’m running a fever. But when you disappeared, the dreams went away too.”

Yuu removed his arms around his waist, Tanjirou already missing the coldness that seemed to come from every part of Yuu’s skin. He couldn’t read his expression again, but he didn’t expect anything more from the strange man. He speaks vaguely, dresses the same, never aged, so his expressionless face was the least of Tanjirou’s concerns.

“Stay healthy, tiny human.”

Tanjirou snorted at Yuu’s choice of response, turning back to where he left his bike at the konbini. He didn’t want to say goodbye, even when he knew that perhaps he wouldn’t see Yuu-chan again. So he continued walking even when he didn’t hear the man move from his place, because he has his hungry friends waiting for him.

He looked back, hoping to see Yuu watching him leave and walk away.

But like how he disappeared seven years ago, the man was suddenly gone, like he wasn’t even there a minute ago.

He rode his bike back to Zenitsu’s home in a bleary state. Thanks to the numerous trips he made to his blond friend’s house, he found his way even when he didn’t even remember pedalling. He couldn’t feel his legs, his head buzzed, his fingers numb. He recalled grandpa Jigoro asking him what’s wrong and why he looked so pale, before seeing Inosuke’s worried face rushing to him as he slumped against the nearest wall.

He black out a moment after that.

I kept seeing you in my dreams when I’m running a fever.

“That’s not it,” Giyuu sighed, finding it hard to breathe as he watched Tanjirou stumble out of his bike, pushing the gate of his friend’s house with all his strength. That was his fault, for he couldn’t help himself, even when he promised not to bring harm to the beautiful soul again. “It was the other way around. You get fevers because of your dreams.”

“Who are you talking to?” came a voice behind him, but Giyuu didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Instead, he walked towards the gate of Kuwajima Jigoro’s humble home. He pushed it open, stepping into the other side where his office was. Sabito came in after him, shutting the metal door. “You were supposed to collect a soul today, Giyuu.”

“Who are you, my assistant? So what’s my next schedule?” Giyuu dragged a chair to the table in the middle of the wide room, the only furniture present. His office, much like the others in his line of work, was a high-ceiling room, with a tiled countertop where he prepares teas, coffees, sometimes even sodas, for the souls he brings to the Choosing.

Sabito hauled a tea bag at him, hitting Giyuu on his head, flakes of the dried leaves scattering in his suit. “I wish your brain was sharper than your tongue!”

Giyuu clicked said tongue, wanting to agree because he admits his earlier actions were not well thought out. How could he let a human touch him? How could he not say no, only because those burgundy eyes kept haunting him?

“Kuwajima Jigoro should have died today.” Giyuu pressed his fingers between his eyes, already feeling the early signs of migraine, still wondering what and how it happened because he wasn’t mistaken; he never made mistakes in his job. “I saw his name. It was cardiac arrest.”

“Were you on time?”

He shouldn’t be answering such silly questions. “You know I was never late, Sabito.”

“Were you,” His peach-haired friend sipped on the tea he brewed, holding Giyuu’s periwinkle eyes in an intense stare. “on time, Giyuu?”

Okay, so there was no use lying, and he sincerely believed the slight delay couldn’t hinder death that was already written in the book. He would be guilty if Kuwajima Jigoro’s name was there and that death had simply taken a detour due to his tardiness, but the name was completely gone. Erased, with no sign that it was there before Giyuu left his office, which it definitely was. “I may have been late by a couple of minutes. But it shouldn’t matter because the time of death is absolute even when no collector is present to – “

Sudden realization dawned on Sabito’s face that he was momentarily stuck with his jaw dropping to the floor, and a look of complete disbelief in his eyes. “You talked to a human again, did you? What were you thinking? Were you even using your head like you’re supposed to?”

“He jumped on me from behind! He recognized me-“

“Oh no,” Sabito took the chair opposite him, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He catches his head in his hand, murmuring curses at Giyuu’s stupidity. “It was the same human back then. The human with the gift of Sight. Oh no.”

Giyuu nodded, feeling incredibly frustrated with his inability to follow the rules. “Seven years ago.”

“That was already seven years ago? Yet he still remembered you?”

Giyuu nodded once again, not finding the words to defend himself from Sabito’s unabashed judgment. He couldn’t blame his friend and fellow collector for reacting the way he did, because they weren’t Divines with blessed holiness, nor humans with free will. They were just reapers, tasked to guide souls to the afterlife where they could exercise their freedom to choose one last time and help them decide what they want their fate to be.

He wasn’t human, therefore he doesn’t have the same freedom.

Even if he wanted to see Burgundy Eyes again, not only on the times he was dying, he simply couldn’t choose to do what he wanted.

The clanking of the Sabito’s teacup on the saucer shook Giyuu out of his silent dilemma. His peach-haired friend frowned, the scar on his face more prominent as he pursed his lips in frustration. He once asked the man about his facial scar, which they both agreed seemed to be a birthmark, but Sabito couldn’t recall how and when he acquired it.

“You can’t keep doing this, Giyuu.” Sabito sighed, tracing the patterned yellow and green lines of his own book sitting on the table. “We didn’t know, we may never know, how our presence affects living souls. I’m sure you’ve heard of the myths.”

“I have, but they’re just myths.” Like those about birthmarks, and Giyuu suddenly found himself with the realization that if the myths of men were real, then there’s a chance the myths of the reapers of the old were real too. “No,” he hunched over the table, burying his face in his folded arms. “I messed up. What if – “ Giyuu raised his head, the frantic look in those periwinkle eyes making Sabito flinched. “What if Kuwajima Jigoro’s death took a turn and – “

Sabito reached for his head, shaking it vigorously in an attempt to rattle his brain. Giyuu groaned at the harshness, but was thankful for the distraction. “Don’t think too much of it, Giyuu. If something was indeed wrong, you should have heard from Yorichii-san by now.”

“I swear the name was there!” Giyuu flipped his book open again, trying so hard to prove he was simply mistaken so he could step out of his door to collect the soul. But he couldn’t find the name, couldn’t find the reason why it would just disappear when death was something no one could hinder. Not even the Divines could defy death if They deemed it to be the right time to take back the gift of life They bestowed. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Tan – “

“Don’t speak of his name!” Sabito abruptly stood, his chair tripping over. His booming shriek effectively stopped Giyuu’s string of apologies. “Don’t make another mistake, Giyuu. Remember who we are, and what we bring. Don’t.”

Giyuu understood, for there is a reason souls should only see them after passing.

There is a reason he should never let Tanjirou see him again.

For he brings nothing but death.

Tanjirou should have known.

He tried to whisper, sometimes in his pillow before he sleeps, a wish to see Yuu in his dreams again. But he never had bad fevers again, never got the chance to see the man turn his nightmares into sweet stupor.

He tried to whisper, against the glass pane of the train as it whirred and swayed, words of intercession and petition, begging for a chance to see Yuu once again.

He tried to whisper his name, trying to call for him to come and explain, to let him know that he doesn’t care what he is, to finally understand why he can’t get Yuu out of his system, even after trying to make himself believe the man with the sky in his eyes isn’t real. He wanted to ask him why it felt like Yuu knew him longer than he should have, the same way he felt strangely familiar even when he only met him twice.

Tanjirou should have known that perhaps meant an empty promise, a parting word disguised as an assurance that he will see Yuu again.

For after he touched him with his cold fingers and reached for the scars he was born with, he never saw Yuu again.

#giyuutan #kny fanfic #grim reaper au #reincarnation au #demon slayer #tomioka giyuu #kamado tanjirou

50 notes · View notes

mrslittletall · 3 years

Note

saw your whump post, honestly the "I'm fine" screams Hornet to me, so it'd be cool to see that! - dooblebugs

Title: The Idol Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: Hornet & Little Ghost Word Count: 2.825 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30941981

Summary: After the Hollow Knight is freed from the temple, Hornet does her best to take care of the ones that are still left in Hallownest. Everything should be fine... until it isn't.

(Author's note: @dooblebugs

I thought about using canon verse with “Almost everyone lives AU” or your Mer AU. But ultimately, canon verse won, because I still miss some context for the Mer AU. I hope you enjoy.)

Hornet opened her eyes and jumped on her feet right away. Her day would always start with hunting and gathering food, preferably before Hollow woke up and tried to move, and it was a whole other problem trying to haul a bug their size back into bed, especially when they rigorously ignored their wounds.

While Hornet trusted Quirrel and Cloth enough to leave Hollow in their care for a while, she always felt better if she could look over them personally. However, the longer she hesitated with leaving, the longer she would need to come back, so Hornet left the house in Dirtmouth they had inhabited for Hollow's recovery and went towards the crossroads.

The little pitter-patter of tiny feet next to her prompted Hornet to look down. Ghost had decided to accompany her again. They always would. She could tell them a hundred times to stay behind, they would never listen. For a vessel meant to be void of mind, Ghost was one of the bugs with the strongest will that Hornet ever had seen.

“You will still come with me, even if I say no, right, little Ghost?”, Hornet said, shouldering her needle. Ghost didn't nod or sign at her, they simply stared, with their unblinking, never changing expression. It was enough for Hornet to know that they wouldn't leave.

“Alright, but don't get into my way.”, Hornet said. At this, Ghost swung their nail and jumped in front of Hornet in a pose that depicted a challenge, then their nail went down on the ground in a strike, the swing of it breaking through the calmness of the morning.

“I know! I know! You've beaten me twice, but... I have gone easy on you.”, Hornet half hissed. It was a blatant lie and she knew it. The first time she had simply underestimated them (or she simply had become tired of fighting) and the second time... she had given it her all and they still had remained victorious. In a sense, Ghost was the new king of Hallownest, but they didn't seem to put any mind on the title. They didn't even seem to be wanting to be celebrated for being the saviour of Hallownest. They simply joined Hornet every morning for hunting and went off on their own afterwards, always coming back to play with their friends in Dirtmouth.

As the both of them jumped down the well, Hornet couldn't help but think about that there wasn't much to rule anymore. This kingdom was in shambles. It had been two weeks and the dried off infection still crusted the crossroads, too little bugs alive to care much about cleaning the place up. It was becoming more and more difficult to get food, because so many of the infected had simply been reanimated husks, without any meat left in them.

They surely would have to wander to Greenpath again, hopefully finding a few vengeflies and mosscreeps to bring home.

Hornet was used being alone. She had been alone for a very long time. She had managed. She never was lonely... well, maybe a little lonely and now there was a bunch of strangers up in Dirtmouth who relied on her. Hornet never wanted for anyone to rely on her. She had seen what happened when bugs relied on someone and... there wasn't a solution.

She looked down on Ghost again, they had their nail on the ready and stared vigilantly in front of them. They must have crossed this crossroads a dozen times on their journey, still expecting to be attacked by the infected every given minute. Hornet could understand that it was hard for them to let go of old habits.

She was the same. She never let go of her needle as well. Even with the infection never being able to come back, she had to remain vigilant. She would protect her siblings, no matter what. She wouldn't, no she couldn't, let anyone down.

“We are nearing Greenpath.”, she said, only to cut through the silence between them. She knew it wasn't Ghost's fault that they didn't have a voice, but after years of not being able to talk to anyone, Hornet barely could stand the silence, when there was someone she could talk to. “Remember, when we hunt the mosscreeps, take their leaves as well, for the herbivores.”

While Hornet was able to eat plant matter as well, it never had been satisfying to her. She was the daughter of a spider and a wyrm, both predators, and therefore she usually would hunt for food. She was unsure about what kind of diet Ghost and Hollow needed, but they seemed to be content with the prey she brought back, so she wouldn't change anything about it.

“And remember, we can't hunt too much. The population needs a chance to recover.”, she said as well. The infection had done a number on the whole of Hallownest... it wasn't a surprise that there was such a food shortage. In fact, Hornet had cut her own food intake in favour of her siblings and anyone who couldn't hunt or still needed to recover. That bug, Tiso, came to mind. Had a far too big stomach for having been utterly destroyed by the colloseum of fools. Why Ghost had dragged him back to Dirthmouth, she would never understand.

Ghost showed that they understood with a little nod of their head and the both of them entered Greenpath. It was a MUCH nicer place without the infection, but they still had to pay attention, the fool eater plants were easy to overlook (not that Hornet had ever overlooked them, but Ghost tended to forget...) and there were some predators still around, though they were no match for her needle. The problem was to avoid them to not hunt too much. Like she had said to Ghost, they needed to give the population time to recover, if they wouldn't want all to starve beforehand.

“We get only enough for everyone back in Dirtmouth.”, Hornet said again. “Then we leave again. Let's search for some mosscreeps first.”

The both of them jumped and slashed their way through the vegetation of Greenpath. While Hornet preferred to use her needle, Ghost had found a lot of new ways to move around since the first time they fought and they dashed (literally leaving their shell behind and somehow phasing through time and space) and jumped with wings that reminded Hornet of her father... and she got a bad feeling in her guts every time she saw them.

After a bit of time, they had managed to hunt two vengeflies to bring back, Hornet keeping them cocooned up for transportation and were now searching through the vegetation for some mosscreeps. Finally, Hornet found one and struck it down with her needle, preparing a cocoon for it again, when Ghost picked something up from the grass.

“Ghost, what do you have there?”, Hornet asked. The item was too small to be prey and they tended to hoard stuff they found. It probably was just something that was completely worthless nowadays, only generating Geo when given to this historian in the City of Tears. She still wanted to know.

Ghost came over and laid the thing they had picked up in her outstretched hand. When she looked down on it, she froze.

It was a King's Idol, the item that the citizens of Hallownest had crafted to worship her reclusive father. Each of them looked different, but they all shared the general shape and depicted his most salient feature: The horns that resembled a crown.

Staring down at it, something in Hornet broke. It might have been the stress she felt since Ghost had arrived. Or the fact that Hollow recovered from years of abuse from both the gods of Hallownest. Or that she was running on an empty stomach most of the time. But once she saw that thing, all her frustration crashed down on her at once.

You!”, she hissed. “It was all your fault! You knew that the plan wouldn't work! You knew that they would suffer and you still have let it happen! The teacher, the watcher, my mother, all sacrificed for nothing! And then, in the moment you were needed the most, you vanished, you damn coward! We needed you! I needed you! I hate you. I hate you and I can't even say it to your face anymore!”

Hornet threw the king's idol on the ground with so much force that it skipped on the ground and then fell on her knees, slowly getting aware of the tears on her face and the presence of little ice cold hands patting her arm.

“I am fine.”, she said, wiping the tears away. Just a moment of weakness, nothing else. Even though she could feel the judgemental stare of Ghost, she was fine. She had to be. “Seriously, I am fine.”, she continued once more. “Let's continue hunting.”

As Hornet was putting her composure back together, she didn't notice how Ghost continued to stare at her, picking up the idol from the ground, and only starting to move again once she called out for them.

The hunt had been more or less successful. At least they had found enough prey that nobody should go terribly hungry (at least when Hornet halved her own portion again). As usual, hunting had taken the better part of the day. Hornet would have liked to go hunt at some different locations, but the Old Stag from the stag ways wasn't around lately, apparently he was taking care of some personal business. With him not being around, it was just too far to walk to the Fungal Wastes or Deepnest, at least not when she wanted to come back the same day.

Currently Hornet took in her meal in Hollow's room with Ghost present as well. She was busy thinking about if there was another route that would make sure she could hunt elsewhere but Greenpath for once, when she felt a nudge. When she looked down, she saw how Ghost offered them a half of their mosscreep, holding the prey up in their little hands, seemingly eagerly awaiting for her to take it.

“I can't take this, Ghost.”, Hornet said. “You need all the food you can get, you are still growing.”

Ghost cocked their head and for once their eternal deadpan expression was on point. Hornet knew how ridiculous her argument was. Ghost had been born before her. They hadn't grown in years. Their body had been unable to grow because they didn't had access to void. “You know what I mean.”, she defended herself. There was the possibility that Ghost would start to grow as long as they stayed in Hallownest.

Ghost offered their meal a little while longer and then gave up with a little frustrated stomp of their foot. It was then when Hornet felt another nudge... this time it was Hollow, who had simply watched the scene unfold in front of them, offering their part of their meal.

“Oh no, not you too, Hollow.”, Hornet sighed. “You need the food much more than me, you are still recovering. I won't accept anything from you.”

The both vessels shared a look and once again Hornet asked herself if they could talk to each with some kind of void telepathy, before both of them looked at the ground in defeat.

“I am fine.”, Hornet repeated herself, she knew that. “Really, I am fine...”

Hornet awoke the next morning... not because her stomach cramped and she had trouble sleeping because of it, but because someone nudged her. She cracked one eye open and murmured: “It's barely morning...” She just craved to go back to sleep, to forget about the day in front of her for a few minutes longer, but the nudging got more and more intense, until she shouted: “Fine! I am getting up! Stop bothering me!”

It was Ghost in front of her and immediately Hornet stopped being annoyed. What if something had happened? “Is something the matter with Hollow? Or is a threat approaching the village?”, she asked, already fumbling for her needle, once again forgetting that Ghost was more than capable of defending the village themselves. They just looked too much like a little, defenseless child, even though Hornet had experienced otherwise.

Gladly, Ghost shook their head, though this put Hornet right back into annoyance. “Then why have you woken me up?”, she said, falling back down in her pillows, ignoring the urge to close her eyes and looking at Ghost again, making sure to give them a judgemental stare.

Ghost did grip something under their cloak (wings? Hornet never knew what this thing around the vessels was) and after a bit of struggling, they produced a jar... a jar filled with honey. The smell actually made Hornet's mouth water. Honey was one of the few things she liked to eat that wasn't meat, mostly because she had trained in the Hive in her youth.

Though, as lucky as she felt about having more food, she couldn't help but scold Ghost. “Ghost, did you get this on your own? The Hive is dangerous, even without the infection! What if the Hive Knight would have found you?”

Ghost shook their head and then outstretched their hand, showing Hornet a shiny little charm. A charm she remembered. The charm of the Hive. “Wait, you have been there and challenged him already?” Hornet wanted to be surprised, but Ghost couldn't really surprise her anymore. When they could surprise her somehow, then it was that they were full of surprises.

“Anyway... I guess I have to thank you, though I don't approve that you sneak out at night into the Hive.”, Hornet murmured. “At least we have more food for the group now..”

Ghost rigorously shook their head and pressed the jar in her hands. “For me?”, Hornet asked and Ghost nodded.

“But... Ghost, I appreciate it, but I don't need.. the others need the food much more than...”

Another shook of their head and a stomp of their foot along with crossed arms and a slight turn around. Hornet suddenly felt very small, she had never seen them that upset.

“Alright, alright...”, she said. “Maybe I have eaten insufficient lately...”

Ghost nodded again and gave the jar of honey another press, so that she had to hold it firmly in her hands.

“Alright alright...”, Hornet finally gave in. “I will take your offer, Ghost.”

As she opened the jar, her hunger became more and more apparent and soon she dug in and had finished the whole jar in what felt like no time and finally, for once, she didn't feel overly hungry. Satisfied even.

She then saw Ghost holding up something. A little rock with a few letters written on it. Lately Cornifer had given them writing lessons, though it still was a work in progress.

“Fine?”

That was the word they had painted on the rock (where did they even have the colours from?).

“I am fine.”, Hornet said. “This time for real. I am sorry, Ghost, I shouldn't have lied to you. I just feel so... responsible for everyone. I can't show weakness in front of anyone.”

Ghost shook their head again and then got something out. Hornet recognized it as the King's Idol they had found in Greenpath. They tossed it at the ground, just as she had done and then hit it with their nail, leaving a notable crack in it.

“You as well don't have the best memories of him, right?”, Hornet said. Both of them had been left behind, though in a different kind of way. Ghost had been discarded and Hornet had been left with responsibility far too huge for her age.

Ghost nodded again and gave the King's Idol another smack, so that it landed in front of her. Hornet took it into her hands and stared at it. She did miss him, that she had to admit to herself, but she also knew that her anger and her disappointment were real and there was no reason to hide it in front of Ghost.

She squeezed the Idol until it cracked into two pieces and just watched as they fell down. “Thank you, Ghost.”, she said. “But make sure to not tell Hollow about this.”

The way Hollow idealized their father... it would break their heart seeing his image being defiled like that.

Another quick nod and then Ghost actually got another one out, their face clearly saying: “Wanna break another?”

A grin crept over Hornet's face. She would never get her mother back or escape her responsibilities, but at least she could vent out her frustrations, even though it took her sibling for her to realize.

“Oh you bet I want.” (Author's note: Little Ghost is kinda fun to write. I think they are a character mostly showing what they feel through body language and it was fun to come up with how they would act. I also like to think that they can stare very judgemental, even though their expression never changes, a stare of them can make anyone falter. Hornet's relationship to PK is... complicated. He hasn't actually been a bad father to her, but as the infection came back and depression took over, he left her alone more and more and she got angry about it... especially when he decided to just vanish. She felt utterly betrayed by it and it is a huge source of her frustration and anger. I put in some little references to the game in there, try to find them if you please.)

#hollow knight #fanfiction #hornet #little ghost #march of the whumps #request fill #hornet has issues #whump #emotional whump #ask answered #thx for the ask #littlewritesstuff #Anonymous

81 notes · View notes

kingreywrites · 3 years

Text

Beyond Those Trees

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2263

Eugene Appreciation Week Day One: Childhood

Summary: When he was five, Eugene climbed a tree.

Note: i am very very weak for orphanage stories so here is a self-indulgent one asfhdghj also i generally hc that lance grew up for a few years with his parents before losing them (around the time he was six or seven) and then going to the orphanage and meeting eugene, which is why he won't really be there because they haven’t met yet ;;

Read on ao3

When he was five, Eugene climbed a tree.

He shouldn't have climbed that tree. He knew the matrons at the orphanage would be mad at him, and tell him that he was causing trouble again, that he should stop making it more difficult on them by being up to no good all the time. Something like that, at least; he heard the sermon often enough.

But, for all that they hated when he did stupid stuff, it wasn't like the matrons paid much attention to him in the first place. Not enough to stop him, in any case. As long as they didn't know, it would be fine, and Eugene knew they wouldn't notice anything if he did it before they checked where he was. So he left the orphanage right after lunch, went to the big old tree not too far at the edge of the village, and decided to climb it. He saw the older boys do it a few days before - they weren't his friends, and so he had been too shy to join them, but now he knew how to do it, and he wasn't gonna wait anymore.

He wanted to do the same thing as Flynnigan Rider on the cover of his favourite book, the one he was painstakingly learning to read with. On it, the adventurer stood tall on the branch of a tree, looking towards the sun rising on the horizon. The rays of sunlight were the same colour as his treasure, and the golden accents were in relief - Eugene had traced them with his finger time and time again, yearning for a life like this one.

So Eugene climbed a tree. It wasn't too hard, and he was very proud of himself, because he knew the older boys had needed each other to get up there, but he had done it all alone. He reached the thickest branch he could see, stood up tall, and... well, Vardaros was not as pretty as the city drawn on his book, and the sun wasn't exactly rising, but it still looked wicked cool, in his own words.

If you had asked him then, he would have said that this was the best moment of his life.

He was bored after exactly four minutes. To be fair, there wasn't much to do on a tree, and he really wanted to go tell everyone about what he did - except the matrons, of course. Anyway, he reasoned, Flynnigan probably didn't stay there long either, instead running off to go on new adventures, which was exactly what Eugene was going to do.

Eugene looked down.

Climbing had taken him mere minutes. He had been so focused on his goal that he did not even stop to think about the height, or anything, really. But he looked down, and suddenly the distance to the ground was nauseating, and the closest branch seemed miles away. Leaning on the trunk, feeling small, Eugene shakily tried to extend his foot towards it, before immediately giving up.

He... He was scared.

As he remembers it today, the tree was the tallest thing he had ever seen, reaching towards the sky, nearly on par with the clouds. When he came back during his teenage years - when Eugene wasn't his name anymore and his dreams had drastically changed - he saw the tree again, and realised that it was simply a sad, old tree, who wasn't even that tall compared to those in Corona's luxurious forests.

But he had been five. He had been five, and little, and scared, so he had decided to stay on the tree, and wait for someone to notice his absence. Wait for someone to come help him.

And he waited. And he waited.

The sunset had been prettier, bathing the entire town in red and golden light, just like on his book. He hadn't really appreciated it.

(When he tells this story, he always acts as if he had tried to distract himself, and that was it. He doesn't talk about the tears, and the heart wrenching loneliness he had felt, certain in that way kids were that this was permanent.)

Exhaustion and fear got the best of him, and he fell asleep. When he woke up, he was still here, and no one had come.

The sun was rising this time. Eugene got up, looked down, and something clicked for him. No one would come. He was cold, and scared, and hungry too, but no one would come, and so there was only one person who could save him. Only one daring adventurer, ready to brave his fear and save the day.

He tried to convince himself that this hero was him. Despite how terrified he felt, he was an adventurer, he was just like Flynnigan Rider, and Flynnigan never backed down when faced with a challenge.

"If it's not possible, it's not worth doing," he muttered, before jumping to the nearest branch.

Miraculously, he reached it. The same couldn't be said for the next branch, and he fell heavily to the ground.

He remembers pain exploding in his arm, staying on the ground for a long, long time, and then making his way back painfully, stomach growling loudly.

"Eugene?"

Rapunzel's voice breaks him out of his narration, and he looks at her, squeezing her hand lightly. They're both sitting in the special spot he found on the roof, an easily accessible ledge giving one of the best views on Corona.

"Yeah?"

"You said… You said this was a funny story," she remarks, tone hesitant, uselessly tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear.

"It is!" he exclaims. "After spending all day and night away, I was so sure I would find the orphanage in absolute chaos that the whole way back I prepared a lie about going to fight off bandits or something. Imagine my surprise when not only no one had noticed I was gone, but the adults were even mad at me because I was late for my chores!"

He chuckles, and stops when he sees the lack of amusement in Rapunzel's eyes.

"It's funny because… I was being overdramatic?" he tries. Her frown deepens. "Guess you had to be there…"

"You were five," she protests. She's the one who takes his hand this time, an intensity he hadn't expected in her eyes. "You were five, and alone, and- no one cared you were gone?"

He opens his mouth, and closes it, unsure how to proceed. That wasn't the reaction he had expected. And, in all honesty, the way she said it did make the story sound sad, but it wasn't! He… They cared, he thinks, they would have if they had noticed because, at the very least, they would be in trouble with the law if they had lost a kid. They cared… They simply didn't know he had left.

"I got up to a lot of mischief at the time," he finally answers. "They were busy, and probably assumed I was out causing trouble."

Rapunzel stays silent after that. She holds his hand on her lap, and gently rests her head on his shoulder, while they both look at the view. The sun is setting on the horizon, bright and burning, the entire town glowing orange because of it.

Eugene sighs, and finally rests his head on top of hers, enjoying the soft brush of her hair against his cheek. Maybe this story isn't as funny as he remembers it. He's good at turning every little anecdote into something grandiose, entertaining whoever is willing to listen with his lively retelling, but… It's different, with Rapunzel. Everything is.

There's no hesitation to have when he says she cares, for one. Maybe she shouldn't, but she does, more than anyone ever did. She's also the first person in his life he doesn't want to lie to. The first person he doesn't feel like he has to lie to. She saw the worst of him already, saw how much of a selfish, useless jerk he could be, and she… she still loves him, for some reason. It's difficult to phantom, sometimes, and in the last month since their first meeting, Eugene kept worrying that he would wake up someday, and this dream would have ended as quickly as it started.

He's used to being forgotten, after all.

"I think we'd have been friends," Rapunzel whispers, interrupting his thoughts. "If we met, as kids. I think we'd have been friends."

"I was a troublemaker," he breathes out softly, still resting on her, "Sometimes, I acted out some scenes from my books, and it often ended with broken windows. You probably would have found me annoying."

"Oh I don't know, I think I would have enjoyed acting out those scenes with you, Mr Troublemaker," Rapunzel teased. "Though… Maybe you wouldn't have liked me. I was a bit of a crybaby when I was a kid, and not a great adventurer."

For a second, Eugene is glad she can't see him, because he knows his sadness for her must show. His heart tightens each time she mentions her childhood, and he remembers how lonely she had been, all alone in her tower.

"I would have loved you," is all he answers, and it's not even a lie. There's no universe in which he doesn't like Rapunzel, he's pretty sure of that, and even then… He had loved the younger kids, at the time. When he grew up a little, got over his tree adventure, and decided that he wasn't gonna be like the older kids he had known - he had read them stories, and had helped the new kids adapt, and had felt both happy and sad when they got adopted, and he inevitably wasn't.

And then… Then he started stealing, and it all went downhill from there.

"I would have loved you too," Rapunzel echoes, a bit too intensely. "We would have played together all the time, and- And I would have noticed that you were gone. I would have helped you come down from that tree."

They're still hugging. Still looking at the view, though Eugene is not seeing much of it, too focused on her words. He wants to joke that she couldn't have been more than one year old at the time, that she would have had trouble doing anything, but the deflection doesn't feel right. She's squeezing his hand tight, and he understands what she's trying to say, understands what she's trying to make him see.

"I know," he whispers, because he does. He knows she cares about him. He knows- He knows she wouldn't forget him. As much as he worries, deep down he knows she loves him, because she tells him and shows him in every little moment.

Rapunzel shifts, and they finally meet each other's eyes again.

"Do you know how I found you here?" she asks.

"Uh…" Eugene hesitates, thrown off by the subject change.

To be perfectly honest, he had come here because he was bored out of his mind, since Rapunzel was taken by her princess lessons, and no one really cared where he went as long as he didn't cause trouble. And then, all alone here with the sun shining warmly on his face, and the ledge offering more than enough space to stretch, Eugene had simply… fallen asleep.

Before waking up to Rapunzel curiously peering down at him, which surprised him so much it nearly made him fall off the roof. Thankfully, she had quick reflexes, and caught him, but she had looked spooked and he had wanted to make her feel better, thus the tree story he had been reminded of with this adventure.

"Usually, when my lessons are over, you always manage to find me and let me talk to you about my day, or try to take me on a date even when Cassandra says we can't, or… Well," Rapunzel chuckles softly, "what I mean is that you're always there. And today… Today you weren't."

"Oh," he breathes out.

"Cass said there was no reason to worry, and I knew she was right, but- but what if, you know? What if you were in trouble, or what if you had gotten hurt somewhere and couldn't come, or- or… I was worried," she sighs, looking down.

Gently, he put his hand on her chin, and made her raise her head again. The thing is, he does know what she was talking about. That worry gnawing at his insides every time he can't find her, and doesn't know where she is, he understands that all too well.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," she immediately corrects. "I simply… I notice your absence. Always, all the time, I notice when you are there or not, and I care about that. If… If you ever were in trouble, if you ever disappeared, I would find you, I promise."

When he sees the honesty in her eyes, Eugene thinks back to that little kid crying all alone on the branch of a too big tree. He thinks about him, growing up, meeting people he loved, finding a best friend in Lance, and yet continuing to ruin all of that little by little, because he was so sure the only way to carve his place in this world was by doing it alone.

He had been an idiot, he knows.

"I know you would, Sunshine," Eugene says. "I would too." Because now that they have each other, he knows that, no matter what, they will never let the other feel lonely ever again.

#tangled #tangled the series #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel #EAW

48 notes · View notes

dangerouscommiesubversive · 3 years

Text

because i was a fool for loving her over you (and if i call i really hope you’ll call me ‘cause i’m not over you)

Fandom: Choujin Sentai Jetman

Characters: Tendou Ryuu, Yuki Gai, Rokumeikan Kaori, Hayasaka Ako

Song: “Empress,” Morningsiders (playlist here)

Note: Alternate title for this story is “The Jetman Trap (1992) starring Hayasaka Ako”

Directly following the defeat of the Vyram there are several days of frantic, exhausted reports and debriefings and meetings, some of which take place in hospital rooms where the various team members are receiving medical care, and then once those are done there is a month total, blissful peace. The Jetmen return to their homes to rest and recuperate. Raita is able to begin the spring planting, Ako to consider and then reject university entrance exams, Ryuu to mourn the second death of his first love, Gai to brush up on his saxophone in preparation for going back to his usual occupation, and Kaori to spend a day with her parents for the first time in ages. Perhaps they’ll be called upon to save the world again, but hopefully not.

At the end of that month, though, comes a strange moment of confluence as in a sumptuous mansion, in a mediocre bar, in a sparsely-decorated military apartment, three people find themselves staring into space and sighing heavily as they murmur, “Well, I screwed that up.”

---

Gai is there when Ryuu finally asks Kaori to dinner, and he’s mature enough by now to admit that it stings somewhat to hear, just as he’s still immature enough to find Ryuu’s gut-punched expression when she turns him down a little bit funny.

“Why?” Ryuu manages to stammer out after a moment, and then he visibly backpedals—“which is to say, of course if you don’t want to I respect that.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “Why now?”

“Well, I, I…I just realized that I’ve wasted so much time on obsessing over the past that I never actually gave…other options…any fair consideration. And because I like you, Kaori, you’re a dear friend, and I’d like to have dinner with you.”

“Well, I’m not interested in being your runner-up.” And that haughty little chin tilt, the one she doesn’t actually pull out too often, and Gai is trying not to eavesdrop, really he is, but she’s just so wonderful to watch when she decides to put the rich blood on. “Ask me again when you want me and aren’t just ‘giving me fair consideration,’” with a hand gesture that manages to indicate quotation marks while concealing how hurt she actually looks.

Then she leaves, and Ryuu stares after her until she’s out of sight before turning to Gai and saying, sounding bewildered, “I did something wrong there, didn’t I. You heard all that, right? Did I do something wrong there?”

Gai takes a sip of his drink—a soda water, he’s trying to drink less alcohol. “I think you might have messed up a little, yeah. Nobody likes to feel like they’re a fallback option.”

---

Ryuu is there when Kaori asks Gai to try meeting her parents again, and it’s a little painful to hear, but not as much as the hissing argument that it devolves into. Nothing that either of them says is untrue, but all of it is put unkindly, two injured people cutting further pieces out of each other in the hopes that it might make everything more even. He’s unexpectedly hurt by the realization that they slept together, probably more than once, even though they’re both mature adults and certainly didn’t need to consult him about it.

Of course, in the end, Gai is the one who stalks off, mouth tight and brow furrowed, and Ryuu almost chases after him—but that would mean leaving Kaori by herself. She stares after Gai for a moment, looking forlorn, and then turns and buries her face in Ryuu’s chest and bursts into tears. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” she sobs, and he pats her shoulder awkwardly and offers reassurances that he’s not sure he means.

“It’s all right,” he says, staring over her head in the direction Gai went and trying not to focus too much on the warmth of her body pressed up against his. “I’m sure you’ll get another chance to talk things out with him.”

---

Things are still very busy on the farm, so Raita’s not with them, but the other four meet up at a park as the weather starts to warm up. Ako and Kaori are sitting together sharing a thermos of tea and a basket of cookies while Ryuu and Gai play catch when Ako says, “So how are things with you guys?”

Kaori blinks down into her cup and says, carefully, “It’s a bit lonely without the team all together, but I’ve been doing well, thank you. How is school? You’re graduating soon, right?”

“I am, but you know that’s not what I was asking. How are things with you three. You and Ryuu and Gai.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, you totally know what I mean.” Ako shoves an entire cookie into her mouth, chews, swallows, and continues with her mouth still partially full. “Honestly if I didn’t already like girls better I think watching you three would have made me prefer them, guys just seem like a hassle.”

Kaori does not choke on her tea, but only through main force. “You like girls?”

“Don’t you? I mean, have you seen girls?”

“I…I suppose I’ve never considered it.”

“Huh. Well, anyway, girls are amazing, not the point, I’m worried about you guys. Which one of them do you actually like?”

Kaori doesn’t answer, she just stares down at her hands.

Ako’s eyes go wide. “Ohhh. It’s like that.”

“What, what do you mean, it’s like what?”

“Have Ryuu and Gai figured out that they’re in love yet or are they still being dumb boys about it?”

“Have—Ryuu and Gai are what?”

“Come on, you have to have noticed.”

Kaori looks over at where Ryuu and Gai have abandoned their game and are sprawled on the ground side by side, catching their breath. Their hands just barely touch, there in the grass, and. She knows. She does know. She’s known for ages now. She’s just been pretending not to, because it hurts to be certain that in the end she won’t ever be the one. But all she says is, “Oh.”

Ako nods, looking unwholesomely knowing for someone who’s not even out of high school, and eats another cookie.

---

“Hey,” Ako says over the phone, “can I introduce you to a friend of mine?”

Kaori thinks about it for a long, long moment, and then says, “Yes, I would like that.”

---

Ryuu says, “I don’t really think I’m ready to try to meet someone new yet, but…sure.”

---

Gai says, “My number isn’t listed, how did you even get it? Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know what you get up to. Yeah, why not.”

---

None of them quite process what she’s done to them until they’re all seated at the restaurant and a waiter is approaching with a telephone to inform them that they’ve received a call. Ryuu is the one who answers, and he doesn’t even start with a greeting, he just says, “Ako, I hope you can understand that I’m a little upset with you right now.”

“You’ll get over it,” she says cheerfully, her voice tinny through the phone receiver. “I hear that restaurant’s really nice, anyway, I hope you three have a good dinner!”

“Don’t hang up, Gai wants to speak to you.”

Gai takes the phone and says, in the most affectionate, big-brotherly voice he can summon, “Ako, you’re a horrible brat and the next time I see you I’m going to spank you because clearly your parents never did it enough.”

“I love you too, and you’ll have to catch me first. Is it Kaori’s turn to be mad at me now?”

Kaori does take the phone, but all does is say, stiffly, “Goodbye, Ako,” and then hang up, turning as she does to smile at the waiter (who is doing his best to not look interested) and say, “If we could have ice water, please, we’ll need a few minutes before we’re ready to order.”

An uncomfortable beat after the waiter leaves, in which they all keep glancing at each other and then looking away, before Ryuu said, “So are we ordering? Or are we all just leaving? Because I want to say we leave, but honestly I’m hungry.”

Gai pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lady’s choice, I guess. I need a drink, but I can get that anywhere.”

They turn to her, and she looks between the two of them, how they incline ever so slightly towards each other even as they’re also inclining towards her, and how could she choose? Even if she did want to separate them when they were clearly so perfect for each other, how could she pick one and leave the other?

Ako’s knowing voice echoes in her head. “Ohhh. It’s like that.”

Oh, says her heart. It’s like that.

She covers her face with her hands, not crying, because everything makes sense in a way that she’s not entirely prepared for and if she starts crying now then she may never stop. “I think,” she says into her palms, breath not hitching, she is speaking so evenly that they certainly won’t be able to tell how overwhelmed she is, “I think, I think we should order dinner, and I think we all need to talk.”

Ryuu and Gai both speak at the same time, and what they both say is, “Whatever you say, Kaori.”

---

“So that sounds like it went well,” Kyoko says, not looking up from where she’s hunting through her box of nail polish. “Which one of them threatened to spank you? Was it the hot one with the motorcycle? He seems like he’d be into that.”

“Kyoko!” Ako throws a pillow at her. “Don’t be gross, he didn’t even mean it like that.”

“What? I’m not saying I want him to spank me, I’m just saying he seems like that kind of guy. There we go.” She lifts a bottle of deep blue polish out of the box. “You want your fingers and toes to match, or do I need to find another color too?”

---

The next morning the phone in Ako’s little apartment rings, and when she picks it up, Gai just starts in with, “Look, threat rescinded, but don’t do that to me ever again.”

She giggles. “So did you have a nice time? I hope you were safe.”

Sputtering on the other end of the line. “You’ve got a dirty mind for a kid. Nothing happened. We talked.”

“All night? I can hear Kaori’s voice. And Ryuu’s. Who was in the middle?”

“Threat unrescinded, you’re going to catch it the next time I see you.” And in the background, Kaori’s joyful laughter, Ryuu asking where the coffee is, something muffled from Gai as he definitely covers the receiver for a moment, and then, “Thank you. Stay out of my love life from now on, you’re a nightmare.”

Ako says, “Love you too, Gai. Tell the other two I say hi,” and then drops the phone back onto its cradle. A moment to just grin smugly at nothing, and then she whirls around to shout, gleefully, “Kyoko! I didn’t screw it up!”

#tendou ryuu #yuki gai #rokumeikan kaori #hayasaka ako #fanfiction #30 day shuffle challenge

11 notes · View notes

twenty-one-froggy-pilots · 3 years

Note

Yeah I'm honestly a bit surprised by how passionate and vocal people are about hating twenty one pilots? It's kinda upsetting that when I try to interact with content about them I'm always a bit worried in the back of my mind because I'm a pretty sensitive person and it's hard not to let stuff get to me.

I don’t know why it’s always felt like twenty one pilots has gotten a ton of hate for no reason? I’ve been into them since 2013-2014 so pure unadulterated vessel era, I’m a very old fan of them and their music, like one of the oldest picture in my phone is this

(This picture isn’t important I just love it, plus something fun to look at with a not so fun subject material)

(Long history as a fan rant incoming lol)

I’ve been an emo kid for a really long time, back when all of the emo bands were big, when seeing another kid wearing a panic! shirt always meant you talked to them in the mall, I still remember when I would wear the one twenty one pilots shirt I could afford outside, that anyone who knew who they were would come up and start a conversation with me

And it’s like through the years the hate has changed to be... somehow worse

Back in the early days tøp used to get called not a true emo band because they didn’t have anyone playing the guitar so everyone hated them because they weren’t emo Enough

Plus there was the whole ‘emo trinity’ ‘emo quartet’ infighting nonsense but that’s so long past idk if anyone even remembers it lol

Then blurryface rolls around and fans are being made fun of for dressing funky and going through that one fandom phase where everyone was calling the boys smol beans it was great and cute, we were all really close, we called each other frens, told each other to stay street it was great! So what people made fun of us or whatever we were absolutely vibing

Twenty one pilots felt like the coolest secret gang of fans, we were absolutely huge, more so than most people would think, and man it was awesome!! If you saw a tøp fan you knew that you were cool with that person and that person would be cool with you!! It was amazing!! Sometimes I do miss this vibe!!

But then Stressed Out ended up on the radio...

I feel like it really all changed here, all of the sudden the old fandom things were cringy, the boys were sell outs, and every family member you knew was suddenly the biggest fan despite only knowing stressed out

I remember being upset around this time because of strangers invading my space, this was my group, filled with people who understood what the lyrics meant and knew and understood how much they meant to all of us, and suddenly it was filled with people who didn’t belong

I didn’t blame the pilot boys, obviously they can’t control what’s on the radio, I’m fact, there’s plenty of pilot songs that mention never being played on the radio because of one reason or another, so my problem was never with the boys, it was with the influx of new people, and by new people I don’t mean new fans, I mean news outlets and tv show host, and with that influx came the people who didn’t get it, you know? That were rude and outright nasty and refused to understand anything about the genre and effort put into the story and why it mattered to us

(Tw for suicide mention, and uncomfortable themes involving people making fun of themes involving it, tw for mentions of school shootings)

All of the sudden we were the fans of Tyler Joseph the man who ‘Glorifies Suicide’ and actively is supposedly encouraging that behavior

We were the cringy fans everyone knew in high school and hated who were described as being ‘JuSt So QuIrkY 🤪’, instead of the mentally ill kids we all were, by people who hated us

We were the fans of those ‘white boys who look like school shooters’ (this one honestly rocked me to my core, it still hurts to even see??? Like idk why but it almost makes me want to cry)

At the same time a lot of the old fans were turning their back on the pilots, they didn’t want to be involved anymore, they hated ALL of the new fans whether they were respectful or not

It was a REALLY hard time to be a new fan, very few people were open to having them involved in anything, I think this is when a lot of hatred happened in the fandom not only fan-fan fighting/hatred but also fan-band sentiments weren’t great either

The more songs that ended up on the radio the more the hatred grew, in fact this got so bad Tyler did this

youtube

Here’s a transcript in case it’s hard to hear

Like... this was the state of our fan group.... it was suddenly cool to hate all the songs that ended up on the radio so much it affected every part of our music journey

There was a lot of infighting, it was an awful time to be a fan, new or old

Then came silence era, in which every tøp blog I followed except like 2, became kpop blogs and I’m not sure any of them ever came back lol, I actually really disliked kpop because of this for a bit in like a jokey kind of way in my own head lol (ahh how the turn tables have turned... kpop and tøp are the only things I listen to now haha, actually because of all my tøp mutuals becoming kpop blogs I vowed to myself to not change this blog to another group so I have two music blogs now, which makes me laugh but also shows how important music is to me so it makes me happy anyways you know?)

It was kind of a sad way to have the fandom disappear, everything was strangled, the boys were gone, and no one kept up with the fandom, it felt really lonely

When Trench era clues started back people started coming back, the mood was different, we had something to do and it was fun to work on something with others, we had the Clancy letters, and all the clues, and the tower of silence and the vultures!! It was great! It started to feel like we had rebuilt something from the rubble of what we had been

The fandom started calling Tyler stinky and he called us b*stards it was great, sometimes people were a bit meaner than I think they thought they were being, but it worked you know?

When the album released we had more people come back and things slowly started fitting back ok again, more songs ended up on the radio and a lot of older fans said the same things they’re saying now, but it wasn’t that bad, it was mostly very positive

And then we got to the over the summer drama, which........... is a sensitive subject, but I legitimately do not understand how it was Tyler’s fault that people assumed he was talking about something when he wasn’t talking about it at all... especially when people have been begging him for years to talk more about mental health, he wanted to introduce whatever he was going to do with a joke, I personally never though he was talking about the big issue at the time of the incident, but it blew up like wildfire and the next thing you know he’s canceled because Other People Assumed Something

So now it’s ‘Morally Justifiable’ to hate Tyler because he’s r*cist or something, despite it never being his intention and because people assumed something

It’s literally not even with good reason that people are doing this, but because it blew up when it did and about what it did, no one knows what really happened and people just wanted a morally justified reason to hate them because you can’t just dislike something anymore without it being justifiable I guess? I feel like with all of the years I’ve spent on the internet everything has only become more hateful...

All this to say.... yes, it hurts when people hate the things that you do, I get really sensitive about it as well, especially with how long and how many arguments I’ve seen, and I am extremely sensitive to discourse and hatred, it’s why I don’t engage with much of it online, in fact I was about to delete the post complaining about everyone hating on them before I saw it was really resonating with you guys

I guess my best advice to you anon, would to try to understand where it’s coming from, that’s what’s helped me, I know a lot of people dislike the pilots because of the fact that they became ‘mainstream’ during blurryface era, and people are really upset by that, so understanding that, even when it hurts, I can acknowledge that they feel that way and that it’s ok that I feel differently

It’s easy to take that point and test it against your own morals, ‘do I think twenty one pilots became mainstream, or only makes songs to get on the radio?’ If your answer is no, then you can both say ‘I don’t agree with them but they’re allowed to have their own opinion’ and kind of give yourself a wall and barrier against what they say

I know this isn’t perfect advice, but it’s helped me a lot

I know there are two big arguments against this album, that it’s mainstream and made to have radio singles (the underlying argument here I guess being Tyler and Josh are money hungry and no longer care about the music)

And that it’s no longer lyrically meaningful, but I think this has to do a lot with how involved people are in the Dema lore, if you’re not a fan of lore I would imagine this album being propaganda and supposed to be fake and bright to prove a point would really bug you if you didn’t really get it

To best thing to do is digest an argument (only if you can handle it emotionally of course 🖤) and know it’s ok that think differently than other people, and that the chances of someone being mad at you are very slim

A lot of things I’ve enjoyed have been stolen by the fear of getting hated on for something - while in actuality, the very few times I’ve gotten real hate over something barely affected me

I admit the fear of getting hate bothers me a lot more than actually getting it, but I just want to encourage you to stay strong in the face of it, it will pass, as it all does, but if nothing else in this post resonates with you, PLEASE HOLD ONTO YOUR JOY FOR AS LONG AS YOU CAN! And don’t let ANYONE take it from YOU!!

If twenty one pilots makes you happy, just remember that the only person who can take that true joy away from you is yourself, remove the people who make you feel sad out of your life, I apologize if this is a physical person in your life as this makes it a lot harder, and sometimes impossible depending on the situation, but on the internet unfollow anyone, block anyone, don’t engage and leave them alone, it’s not with your energy or effort, and they’ll never change their minds but they can change yours you know?

Being sensitive in a time when everything is hateful is hard, especially when everyone tells you you’re a bad person if you aren’t engaged, but you really don’t have to be, you get to choose your own destiny you know? Don’t let other people choose it for you

#I’m am so sorry this post is so long and I still don’t know how to put readmores on mobile anymore #ajsjjams #I get told I ramble on about to much and that my stories are never concise and take forever to get to the point which might be true.........#I’m sorry #I kinda just rambled on forever but I feel like I finally aired out all my laundry I’ve kept to myself forever haha #it did have a point though! just trying to say like it’s always been a bit difficult but for the things that we love it can be #I’ve had a much better experience this era with the people I follow which has helped a lot #but to get to new content I’m digging in the tags which is where I’m #seeing all the hate so there’s kind of no avoiding it but I understood that going in you know?#anyways I think I’ve rambled on long enough! I hope this helped you out in same way?!?!#I’m not sure any of this is really helpful lol wjsks but one can hope haha #nic writes #tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tw school shooting #tw school shooting mention #tw racism mention

22 notes · View notes