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#black forest honey
pradipsutharblog · 23 days
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Black Forest Honey- O-base: Unveiling Nature's Treasure
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The world of honey enthusiasts has recently been abuzz with excitement over a unique variety known as Black Forest Honey, specifically the variant enriched with the mystical "O-base." In this article, we will delve into the depths of this golden elixir, exploring its origins, benefits, challenges, and the fascinating concept of "O-base." Get ready to embark on a journey that unveils the secrets of nature's treasure.
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geohoneyy · 4 months
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Black Forest Honey - A Tale of Flavor
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Black Forest honey is a true delight for honey enthusiasts looking for a unique and flavorsome experience. Derived from the enchanting Black Forest region in Germany, this polyfloral honey offers a diverse and rich taste profile that captivates the senses.
What sets Black Forest honey apart is its remarkable combination of floral notes, deep earthy flavors, and a hint of sweetness. This is due to the diverse range of wildflowers and plants that Black Forest bees forage upon, resulting in a distinct and complex blend of nectar.
One of the most appealing aspects of Black Forest honey is its purity. It is a natural, pure, and organic honey that is free from additives, pesticides, and other harmful substances. Made by bees who collect nectar from a variety of blossoms, Black Forest honey is often classified as polyfloral honey, meaning it is sourced from multiple plant species. This unique blend creates a harmonious symphony of flavors that cannot be replicated.
Moreover, Black Forest honey is raw and unprocessed honey, ensuring that all the natural goodness and nutritional benefits are preserved. Packed with antioxidants, vitamins, and minerals, this honey is not only a delicious treat but also a wholesome addition to your diet.
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ilikeit-art · 2 years
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cozy-fish-crow · 4 months
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at least we got egg sandwiche
at least we got big chunky coffee mug
at least we got thicc spoon from friend
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captainknell · 9 months
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Last night as I was falling asleep, several things were running through my brain and combined into a somewhat reasonable mashup, all things considered. I had an Aaron Fraser- Nash song about Winnie the Pooh Blood and Honey going thru my head and I was thinking about Napoleon and maybe subconsciously about the black forest ham tree but in my dream, Napoleon asked me for some honey ham. That was it.
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blackgirlcinephiles · 2 years
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Incoming: Long Post
*Steps on soap box*
*Clears throat*
BEHOLD!
A collection of Black YA romance novels I need TV/Film adaptations for! Right! NEOOOOW!
Over the past few months, I’ve had the pleasure of reading a lot Black YA romance. And what makes me so excited about these books is that they didn’t just tell a good story, but also imparted strong messages about what it means to share a healthy love between family, between friends, and between lovers of course.
Today I want to talk about these books (sans too many spoilers, seriously go read them for yourself!) and the love lessons we can learn from them.
Lesson 1: A healthy love prioritizes trust and respects boundaries.
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Joya Goffney has quickly become one of my favorite Black YA authors for several reasons. If there’s one thing she can do, it’s tell an entertaining, well-rounded story.
In Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry, she explores themes of racial identity, class tensions within the Black community, and the feelings of shame, guilt, and pressure that come with trying to understand yourself as a Black teen in this world. In Confessions of an Alleged Good Girl, she explores themes of sexual agency and sex positivity, specifically within the context of southern Black Christianity, and how traditional framings of sex and virginity can leave girls in a vulnerable position, without the knowledge needed to assert themselves within romantic/sexual relationships.
Despite being centered around different topics, I found that both of these novels emphasized the importance of being able to trust in your partner. In Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry, when a trust was broken between our leading couple, working to rebuild it through shared vulnerability was an essential apart of the reconciliation process. In romantic relationships, vulnerability is inevitable, but respect for your partner’s timing should come first.
In Confessions of An Alleged Good Girl, the most freeing and affirming romantic relationship was the one where physical limitations and bodily autonomy were acknowledged and respected, no debate. Being in a romantic relationship does not entail entitlement to your partner’s body and the story really drove that home.
These messages are important for people of any age to hear, but especially for young teens having their first experiences of romance. There can be so many instances where you simply go along with things, because you don’t know any better and you assume that its the way things are. Being able to trust your partner with innermost feelings/secrets and your body is a crucial part of healthy relationships.
Lesson 2: Romance is about effort.
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Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s kind of insane the amount of similarities these two novels have while still being wholly unique. Both books include a radio show about love advice, a protagonist wounded by a past friendship betrayal, and wonderful supporting characters who make the story more coloful.
But probably the most satisfying way these novels resemble each other is how the romance is built between the protagonists. Despite rocky beginnings for both couples, connections are built through mutual effort to understand each other’s passions/interests and support one another in their endeavors. These novels probably have the cutest, most swoon-worthy first date moments and it’s entirely because we can see how each protagonist took the time to come up with a creative way to get to know their love interest while also connecting with their passions.
More and more, on social media in particular, it seems that people equate effort or “applying pressure” with doing the fanciest, most expensive activity right off the bat. But like with giving gifts, the best present isn’t always the most expensive one. Rather it’s the one that’s the most thoughtful. That shows you’re paying attention and that you remembered the small, silly, weird details that would otherwise be forgotten.
Lesson 3: Love is a choice worth making.
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The last book in this collection is Zyla & Kai by Kristina Forest, who is also quickly becoming another favorite author of mine. What I love about this book is the way the author went about building the narrative leading up to the big reveal. The message was so clear: Things between Zyla & Kai have always been quite simple. It’s everyone and everything else that makes it complicated.
Throughout the story there are so many external forces creating obstacles for Zyla and Kai. Their families, their peers, their pasts, and their futures are all pulling them in opposite directions. Yet, despite these challenges, Zyla and Kai always choose each other and make an active decision to make it work. To try again one more time. Their love story illustrated the idea, that while love can be simple, it’s also a choice that you make everyday.
I hope this post sparks some interest in these books if you haven’t heard of them before. And if you have, what did you think of them? Do you have a favorite?
While some of these books would work well as movies, there are others that I would want as a limited series. All of the books novels, so the story begins and ends and probably shouldn’t be drawn out for multiple seasons, but there a few where I would want to spend a bit more time with the characters than a film would afford. What say you?
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geckomeleon · 7 months
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Emmie an Earth Flower. Though she has large intimidating arms and claws she is more prone to running and hiding then being an aggressive force. Emmie also can't help herself from raiding Bell's various hives, usually putting the pair into various fights over food.
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verdant-avidya · 1 year
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"Now what kind of crimes are we getting up to tonight."
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licoriceismyworld · 2 years
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majorworlddelhi · 9 months
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Experience the Power of Safa Black Forest Honey: Boost Your Energy and Strengthen Your Immune System Naturally P-50
Safa Black Forest Honey: Boost Your Energy and Strengthen Your Immune System Naturally!   Discover the exceptional qualities of Safa Black Forest Honey – a 100% pure, raw, and unprocessed organic honey from India. With its rich flavor and numerous health benefits, this vegetarian honey is a delectable addition to your daily diet. Strengthen your immune system, enhance digestion, and enjoy the…
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pradipsutharblog · 3 months
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Deliciously Sweet and Pure: Experience the Goodness of Black Forest Honey
Indulge in the exquisite richness of Black Forest Honey. Experience pure and natural sweetness that will delight your taste buds and nourish your body. Discover the unparalleled quality and flavors that make Black Forest Honey a true gourmet delight. Elevate your culinary creations with this golden elixir straight from nature's bounty.
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geohoneyy · 8 months
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World's Finest Honey: Black Forest Honey
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When it comes to honey, there is an incredible variety available worldwide. From the golden hues of monofloral honey to the rich flavors of pure honey, there is something for every taste bud. However, if you're in search of a truly remarkable and exquisite honey experience, look no further than Black Forest Honey.
World best honey black forest honey is renowned as one of nature's sweetest gifts. Derived from the enchanting region nestled within Germany's picturesque Black Forest, this extraordinary honey stands out among its counterparts for several reasons.
Uniquely Distinctive Flavor Profile
Monofloral Excellence
Unmatched Quality Assurance
If you're in pursuit of the world best honey, buy raw honey like Black Forest Honey which undoubtedly deserves a place on your list. Its exquisite taste, monofloral purity, and commitment to quality set it apart from other varieties. Whether drizzled over warm toast or used as an ingredient in culinary masterpieces, this honey promises to elevate every dish and create moments of pure delight.
So why not embark on a journey through time and nature? Buy unprocessed honey an elixir that encapsulates the essence of this enchanting region while offering a truly exceptional flavor experience.
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foodwithrecipes · 11 months
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CUSTARD CUPCAKE.Kids love cupcakes. Kids can eat cupcakes any time they feel hungry. So to make Custard Cupcake we need. Milk, vanilla essence, Read full recipe https://foodrecipesoffical.blogspot.com/2023/05/199food-recipes-custard-cupcakes.html… http://foodrecipesoffical.blogspot.com
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lord-of-the-prompts · 2 years
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DESCRIBING THE PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES OF CHARACTERS:
Body
descriptors; ample, athletic, barrel-chested, beefy, blocky, bony, brawny, buff, burly, chubby, chiseled, coltish, curvy, fat, fit, herculean, hulking, lanky, lean, long, long-legged, lush, medium build, muscular, narrow, overweight, plump, pot-bellied, pudgy, round, skeletal, skinny, slender, slim, stocky, strong, stout, strong, taut, toned, wide.
Eyebrows
descriptors; bushy, dark, faint, furry, long, plucked, raised, seductive, shaved, short, sleek, sparse, thin, unruly.
shape; arched, diagonal, peaked, round, s-shaped, straight.
Ears
shape; attached lobe, broad lobe, narrow, pointed, round, square, sticking-out.
Eyes
colour; albino, blue (azure, baby blue, caribbean blue, cobalt, ice blue, light blue, midnight, ocean blue, sky blue, steel blue, storm blue,) brown (amber, dark brown, chestnut, chocolate, ebony, gold, hazel, honey, light brown, mocha, pale gold, sable, sepia, teakwood, topaz, whiskey,) gray (concrete gray, marble, misty gray, raincloud, satin gray, smoky, sterling, sugar gray), green (aquamarine, emerald, evergreen, forest green, jade green, leaf green, olive, moss green, sea green, teal, vale).
descriptors; bedroom, bright, cat-like, dull, glittering, red-rimmed, sharp, small, squinty, sunken, sparkling, teary.
positioning/shape; almond, close-set, cross, deep-set, downturned, heavy-lidded, hooded, monolid, round, slanted, upturned, wide-set.
Face
descriptors; angular, cat-like, hallow, sculpted, sharp, wolfish.
shape; chubby, diamond, heart-shaped, long, narrow, oblong, oval, rectangle, round, square, thin, triangle.
Facial Hair
beard; chin curtain, classic, circle, ducktail, dutch, french fork, garibaldi, goatee, hipster, neckbeard, old dutch, spade, stubble, verdi, winter.
clean-shaven
moustache; anchor, brush, english, fu manchu, handlebar, hooked, horseshoe, imperial, lampshade, mistletoe, pencil, toothbrush, walrus.
sideburns; chin strap, mutton chops.
Hair
colour; blonde (ash blonde, golden blonde, beige, honey, platinum blonde, reddish blonde, strawberry-blonde, sunflower blonde,) brown (amber, butterscotch, caramel, champagne, cool brown, golden brown, chocolate, cinnamon, mahogany,) red (apricot, auburn, copper, ginger, titain-haired,), black (expresso, inky-black, jet black, raven, soft black) grey (charcoal gray, salt-and-pepper, silver, steel gray,), white (bleached, snow-white).
descriptors; bedhead, dull, dry, fine, full, layered, limp, messy, neat, oily, shaggy, shinny, slick, smooth, spiky, tangled, thick, thin, thinning, tousled, wispy, wild, windblown.
length; ankle length, bald, buzzed, collar length, ear length, floor length, hip length, mid-back length, neck length, shaved, shoulder length, waist length.
type; beach waves, bushy, curly, frizzy, natural, permed, puffy, ringlets, spiral, straight, thick, thin, wavy.
Hands; calloused, clammy, delicate, elegant, large, plump, rough, small, smooth, square, sturdy, strong.
Fingernails; acrylic, bitten, chipped, curved, claw-like, dirty, fake, grimy, long, manicured, painted, peeling, pointed, ragged, short, uneven.
Fingers; arthritic, cold, elegant, fat, greasy, knobby, slender, stubby.
Lips/Mouth
colour (lipstick); brown (caramel, coffee, nude, nutmeg,) pink (deep rose, fuchsia, magenta, pale peach, raspberry, rose, ) purple (black cherry, plum, violet, wine,) red (deep red, ruby.)
descriptors; chapped, cracked, dry, full, glossy, lush, narrow, pierced, scabby, small, soft, split, swollen, thin, uneven, wide, wrinkled.
shape; bottom-heavy, bow-turned, cupid’s bow, downturned, oval, pouty, rosebud, sharp, top-heavy.
Nose
descriptors; broad, broken, crooked, dainty, droopy, hooked, long, narrow, pointed, raised, round, short, strong, stubby, thin, turned-up, wide.
shape; button, flared, grecian, hawk, roman.
Skin
descriptors; blemished, bruised, chalky, clear, dewy, dimpled, dirty, dry, flaky, flawless, freckled, glowing, hairy, itchy, lined, oily, pimply, rashy, rough, sagging, satiny, scarred, scratched, smooth, splotchy, spotted, tattooed, uneven, wrinkly.
complexion; black, bronzed, brown, dark, fair, ivory, light, medium, olive, pale, peach, porcelain, rosy, tan, white.
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ioniiaa · 2 months
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My Darling, My Honey
Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 6)
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Quick Notes:
This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)
Reader is an artist/painter.
Part 6:
When you arrived at the bar alone, Mimzy asked you where Alastor was, with a look of fake shock on her face which made you squint and scrutinize her lousy attempt at lying. Ironically, Mimzy was always a bad liar despite being the owner of a bar/speakeasy, but you wouldn't ask any questions, if it was a surprise then you'd rather not have anything spoiled for you.
Since Alastor wasn't there with you, you take the opportunity to chat and catch up more with Mimzy and some of the other patrons that you hadn't seen swing by in a while.
Unfortunately, a couple of the patrons in attendance tonight were ones you weren't fond of. Two guys that you could tell always eyed you up whenever they had the chance, there was a reason Alastor was usually so insistent on keeping you right by his side at all times whenever he could- except for tonight.
These two guys were the type that would likely try to follow you home or spike your drink if they didn't know that you were in a relationship with Alastor, who wasn't afraid to pull up his sleeves and get his hands dirty if anyone dared threaten your peace and happiness.
For most of the night, Mimzy was able to keep those two in line. So luckily there were no major incidents and Alastor wouldn't have to worry.
Then it was time to leave.
Unbeknownst to you, the two men followed you out of the bar when you decided to head home for the night.
You had a strange feeling as you walked down the dimly lit streets, heading towards your home with Alastor on the outskirts of town. You even checked your surroundings, to hopefully satisfy your paranoia, but saw no one.
Approaching your home, you start to feel a sense of relief when the forest you've come to know as home comes into view.
However, before you could make it to the path that winded through the forest and led to your house, you felt hands grab you from behind.
You try to call out for Alastor but before you can let even a sound escape, another pair of hands cover your mouth with a rag, and then you fall limp into the men's arms.
When your eyes open, you feel so groggy and dizzy. You lazily and slowly swing your head around to assess your surroundings to the best of your abilities.
You're still in the forest near your home, but you're tied to a tree and there's some cloth tied around your mouth to keep you quiet.
But what you notice next is that your clothes are in complete disarray. Some parts are torn, crumpled, and dirtied, and some articles are completely removed from your body.
It was at this time that your entire body started to ache from god knows what they did to you. Tears start to well up in your eyes when suddenly you feel the cold metal of a pistol barrel pushed up against the center of your forehead, making you gasp.
The owner of the pistol was none other than one of the creepy guys from the bar, "Oh the little bitch is awake now huh? Darn, guess our fun time is over!" The other one chimed in, "Didn't have your little bodyguard to protect you this time, princess. You done fucked up, girlie."
"We know what you did and who you are, don't think you can ever escape your past. Little miss widow."
Tears start cascading down your face as the sobs rack your body and you try to shake your head.
The pistol only presses harder in the center of your forehead, the sinister man's facial expressions warping even further, "Oh yeah, cry all you want. But it'll get you nowhere. The only place you're going? Is hell."
Those were the last words you heard before a gunshot rang in the air, and then everything went black instantly.
You died right then and there.
But this isn't the end of your story.
-> Part 7
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seravphs · 11 months
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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER
When Megumi gets injured on a mission, you realize you’re not capable of taking care of a child.
wc — 1.8k
tags — misunderstandings; self doubt; the pitfalls of teenage parenting when you’re all child soldiers; mild angst with a happy ending; happens post sometimes a family is you, teen dad Gojo, and the six year old child he accidentally orphaned, part I of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together. 
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You shove Megumi into his arms, a bundle of bloody black fabric and dead weight. Gojo doesn’t stumble - he never does - but it’s a close call as he instinctively wraps his arms around whatever you’ve pushed onto him. 
“Teleport! Teleport!” You’re so frantic you’re incoherent. It takes a full minute, a minute you don’t have, before you realize that you can’t just say things. Gojo, as invincible as he is, can’t read your mind. You have to explain what’s going on, but how can you focus when Megumi is bleeding out? His little face is growing paler and paler by the second. 
His hands are so tiny. Why is that the only thing you can focus on? They’re grasping the front of Gojo’s jacket for dear life as he coughs weakly. 
“Teleport him back to HQ! Get Shoko!” 
You resist the urge to shake Gojo by his lapels, slap some sense into him. It would only hurt Megumi. Why won’t he move?
“I can’t!”
“What do you mean you can’t? Go! He’s losing so much blood, you have to go now!” 
You know you’re getting hysterical, but Megumi is dying right in front of you. 
“I can’t teleport! There are conditions-“ 
“He’s going to die!” 
“Stop- I need to think!” 
In the back of your head, you can hear Shoko telling you in that cool and detached tone of hers that you’re hyperventilating. 
Look, she says, you see that? You’re breathing too quickly. You feel lightheaded, right? 
Gojo spreads his jacket out on the ground of the forest. “Help me get him ready. I’m going to sew up the cut.” 
“Let me-“ 
“I’ll do it. I’ve done Getou’s before. You just focus on keeping him breathing.” 
You can do that. 
Hunched over Megumi’s body, Gojo gets to work. He looks so frail, spread on the grass with only Gojo’s jacket beneath him. His eyes are normally dark, but they’re blacker with pain, his pupils swallowing up his irises. 
The first puncture of the needle makes him wail before he slaps his hand over his mouth. You peel it back and make vaguely soothing noises, trying to be comforting. 
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you murmur, letting him rest his head in your lap.
“You can scream, Megumi. I know it hurts. Oh, honey, I know. I know.” He’s making this face that agonizes you. His nose is all scrunched up as he clenches his jaw. He’s the type of kid that would rather chew up his suffering and swallow it back down then let anyone see it. 
This happened on your watch. 
Sick self hatred rises in your throat. 
Gojo would’ve never let anything happen to Megumi. 
He whimpers quietly and you flinch. Without even thinking of it, you reach for his hand. You force yourself not to tremble. You’re an adult. It’s your responsibility not to scare him like that. 
His eyes are closed as Gojo grimly works the needle through, but there’s a jump in his frantic heartbeat, as tiny as a rabbit’s. You can detect it through the pulsing vein in his wrist, funneling blood to the injury only to waste it on air. 
He’s such a brave kid - your brave little boy. You smooth his sticky wet hair back from his face, damp with sweat. He moans in pain and twists away. Your heart crumples. 
It takes so much for him to be vocal about anything that hurts him. How much pain must he be in?
“Gojo,” you say. 
“I’m trying!” 
You know. Going any faster is likely to have dangerous consequences. This is the only way. How cruel. You have to hurt him to help him, and isn’t that just the story of your parenthood? 
You curl around him, protective as if your body can shield him from his own body working against itself. The more blood he loses, the harder his body fights to keep him alive. 
It’s an infinitely long minute before Gojo proclaims the grim deed finished. Megumi had passed out long beforehand, his death grip on your fingers slackening as the pain pushed him into nothingness. 
He wakes up on the long drive back to campus. Ijichi has never bent so many speeding limits in his life. Normally a careful driver, he shoots furtive looks at the kid staining his back seats red. You can feel his judgment of what kind of parent you are settling over you. 
Shoko must be thinking the same thing as she patches Megumi up in your kitchen. Her reverse cursed technique seals the cut up in seconds flat, though a scar remains, puckering the flesh of his forearm. 
“Just like Utahime,” Gojo tells him, pinching his cheek. “You didn’t cry either, so you’re better than her.” 
“Don’t talk about your seniors like that,” you say absentmindedly, though your mind could not be further from disciplining Gojo for his poor behavior. 
You can’t send Megumi to the Zenins. You know what they’d do to a sweet kid like him. They’d turn him into a monster like his father. You shudder, thinking of the creature from your nightmares who had stolen the life of a sixteen year old girl, and nearly taken Gojo with him. You could never let them do that to Megumi. They probably wouldn’t take care of Tsumiki either, unless to hold her over his head. But just because they aren’t fit caretakers doesn’t mean you are. 
“Hey.”
“Hey.” 
“Hey.” 
Gojo’s been trying to get your attention for who knows how long. When he sees that he finally has it, he sends Megumi off to bed and jerks his thumb at the door. Wordlessly, you follow him to the porch. It’s dimly lit from a singular overhead bulb without a covering. The two of you stand in a circle of light, the night outside pressing in against the walls of your home. 
“What is it?” He says impatiently. “I fixed everything, didn’t I? Why are you still upset?” 
“It’s not you,” you say. It’s so cliche, but what else is there to say? “It’s my fault.” 
“Don’t,” he says softly. 
You pull your hand back when he tries to take it. There’s a perverse sense of satisfaction in denying both of you what you want. You don’t deserve this. 
He’s silent for a long time. You let the silence stew, determined to outlast him. Quickly, it becomes clear who has the upper hand. You shift from side to side, nervous and tense, while he just waits with his hands shoved in his pockets. When you finally look over, he’s wearing his sunglasses again. His hair glows under the porch light, attracting moths. “Finally felt like playing nice?” 
He’s attractive when he’s mean. You hate that about him, the way the cruel twist of his mouth ties knots into your stomach. It would all be easier if you could hate him, but everything he does only makes you love him more. 
What a twisted little family you’ve built for yourself. 
He sighs. “Stop that. Don’t-“ he waves his hand in your general direction in frustration. “You always do that. It’s not your fault.” 
“He needs a real parent, Gojo. I couldn’t protect him.” 
“I was there too,” he says. “You don’t see me agonizing over my mistakes. It happens.” 
What mistake, you think bitterly. Gojo’s only fault is trusting you with Megumi. He’s the strongest. If it was him, nothing would’ve happened. 
“It wasn’t your mistake. It was mine. If I hadn’t been there, everything would have been fine.” 
“Again?” Gojo says quietly. 
It’s a forceful reminder of how much you sound like Getou right now. He never recovered from what that monster - Megumi’s father - did to him. Even now, your class lives with the scars of that day. Gojo’s face is wistful for a brief moment, deluged by memories. Then it’s gone, wiped from his expression like it had never been there. 
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say, wondering if it’s too late to take it back.  
Gojo never falters. He’s unreasonable and childish, but he’s as solid as stone. You’ve watched him shoulder every single burden he’s ever been asked to carry since he was a child, and now he’s taken on one more. You promised Gojo that you would watch his back, regardless of whether he needed you or not. The words you spoke in a fit of anger and self pity bring you regret now. Weakness isn’t just failing to shield Megumi from all the dangers of sorcery that you wish you and Gojo had been protected from. Weakness is running away when it gets hard. 
Megumi’s your baby. 
You’re not going to give him up. 
A step forward has you pressing into Gojo’s space. He doesn’t yield, watching you with those ancient eyes. 
“I know it’ll only get harder, but it has to be us, right? Who else will keep him safe from the Zenins? I won’t leave, Gojo. I promise.” 
His relieved expression contrasts with his smug words. There’s a crooked smile on his face when he says, “I knew you wouldn’t just abandon us. You think Megumi wants to stay with me? You’re the one keeping him here.” 
“I get it,” you smack his arm. “No need for flattery. I’m with you until the end.” 
“I’m not kidding,” he protests. “There’s no universe in which Megumi likes me more than you.” 
How can you stay upset when he looks so proud of himself for finally figuring out the right thing to say to get you to stay? 
“He doesn’t,” you insist. 
Gojo rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Here, I’ll prove it.” 
It’s not uncommon for Gojo to put Megumi to bed. In fact, it’s a chore he fights you for. It’s probably one of his favorite parts of having Megumi around. He likes telling stories, and surprisingly enough, he’s good at it. He gives each character its own voice. More often than not, he ends up as invested in the bedtime story as Megumi is. Tonight, when he closes the book, he doesn’t leave. The soft light of the lamp on the bedside table shines through a crack in the door as Gojo and Megumi talk in hushed whispers. 
“I want my mom,” he says quietly. 
You lean against the door, pressing your head to the wood to try to keep yourself from falling to the ground. You want to try. You want to be there for him. But Megumi needs his mother, not some teenager who can’t even take control of her own life, much less a child’s. You’re all he has, though, and you have to make it work. You wish Mrs. Fushiguro was still alive, even if that means you would’ve never gotten to meet him. 
“Then ask her to come in,” Gojo says. 
Megumi makes a startled noise. You can almost see him burrowing into his blankets. 
“Go on,” Gojo coaxes. “Oh, come on. Don’t be shy now. You really won’t? Fine.” 
He calls to you. “Come in, sweetheart. Don’t keep us waiting.” 
The first thing you see when you open the door is Megumi’s head buried beneath the covers. Gojo’s trying to peel the sheets back. 
“What are you hiding for? I brought you your mom! You should be thanking me!”
“I hate you!” 
“I told you,” Gojo says. “He loves you more than me.”
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