#swankitty

[khrtbh]

xanxus edit!!!

love xanxus rb if u agree

[kinosternon]

Here’s my @natsume-ss gift for @swankitty! 

(Ugh, I’m sorry this is so late and also such a mess. And I hope it isn’t too gory or two angsty, because honestly I did try, but I apologize if it is)

Word count: 5,506 TanuNatsu, hanahaki AU with a happy ending, confession, hurt/comfort Summary: Tanuma takes on a curse that exploits people’s secrets in Natsume’s place, because he has much less to hide...but he may have been overlooking something in that assessment. 

It starts as a curse spreading from spirit to spirit, from an ancient, bitter, withered old tree that has finally fallen, releasing a curse that is difficult to contain, and even more difficult to purge.

Natsume first hears about it from Tanuma himself, who heard it from Matoba, who goes to Tanuma's father, of all people, to ask him to purify the area. Tanuma's grateful that he cautioned his father to wait until he could ask Natsume about it, after seeing the look on Natsume's face when he explained who, exactly, came to visit.

Tanuma insists on coming along, despite Natsume's protests.

"We'll be careful," he promises, instead of arguing about how he'd feel if he put Natsume in harm's way and left him to face it alone. It's easier that way.

The spirits all cleared out of the area long since, when Natsume and Tanuma and Ponta go to investigate. They find the tree, ultimately, at the base of a mountain, well off the beaten path, a ring of dead grass all around it.

"I don't sense much of anything," Tanuma says, eyeing the tree. "It seems pretty creepy, though."

"Me neither," Natsume admits. "But...there's definitely something strange about it."

"No, it smells like trouble." Ponta waddles between them and the tree, hackles raised.

"The tree?" Natsume asks, skeptical.

"There's something inside, fool," he says. "It's strong enough to try hiding its aura, but it's there."

Suddenly, Natsume jumps as if stung and turns behind them, looking at something over his shoulder. Even Ponta twitches, his stance shifting so he can keep the tree and the spot Natsume's staring at in his sight at the same time.

"Why?" Natsume asks the trees, and Tanuma settles himself to wait for someone to explain to him what's going on.

"It's a curse left over from a spirit that's long gone," Natsume says, finally, after a conversation that's left him pale, shaken. "It's been attacking the spirits in the area. All of them have left, or are hiding."

"They're the smart ones," Ponta says, nose in the air, still glancing occasionally over his shoulder. "Don't underestimate that thing just because it looks like a plant. It's pretty powerful. Just being around it is making my nose itch."

"What does it do?" Tanuma asks, when the clearing falls into an uneasy silence after that. "The curse."

"It latches onto people's secrets," Ponta says grimly, "and eats away at them from the inside out."

"Oh."

Tanuma wants to say something more, wants to have something to add, but he can't think of anything. The two of them are the experts here, not him.

Still, he can't help but notice that suddenly, Natsume looks afraid, and that, more than anything else, puts him on his guard.

It keeps him two steps behind Natsume, and when his eyes widen and he's able to make out a shadowy presence from a hollow in the tree, it has him stepping forward.

Natsume suddenly jumps back and screams and starts clawing at his chest, and Ponta disappears just before the clearing is shook by a huge gust of wind and the old withered tree simply evaporates in a bright burst of light.

Tanuma's on the ground beside Natsume in a second. He's not unconscious, but his hands are pressing against his chest and his eyes are so, so wide.

He starts having a conversation with someone right beside his head, and then with Ponta, judging by the angry huffs ruffling Tanuma's hair. But as he's only privy to half of the conversation, Tanuma can only wait and watch, and gather what he can from Natsume's side of the conversation.

The curse that they'd found—that the Matoba's were too frightened to face themselves, that they'd tried to send Tanuma's father to encounter—is the last remnant of a youkai grown bitter in its final moments, a parasite that has so far proven impossible to destroy.

Natsume looks so afraid, talking to Ponta and whatever spirits are watching them. And Tanuma, though he can only follow part of the conversation, thinks he knows why.

Natsume isn't a liar, Tanuma knows. He's just been trapped by a world that refused to accept his view of the world, his suffering, the dangers he faces, so he learned to hide it all. Even a handful of good years with people who care about him aren't enough to erase the fear of rejection that his childhood forced into him.

Because of that, it's hard to imagine a spirit more dangerous to him than one that finds and exploits what you don't want to say.

"Natsume," he says finally, when the conversation seems to have stopped. "I'm not following everything they said, but is it possible to transfer the curse? It only just started, so there has to be a way, right?"

Natsume looks more frightened than ever. "Tanuma, no. Even if there is..."

"You don't have to do this on your own," Tanuma says, right over him, because this is no time to let him sacrifice himself. "You have to keep your secrets. You live with the Fujiwaras, and you're always seeing things nobody else can. There's no way this thing won't be incredibly dangerous for you. Right?"

Natsume looks like he wants to argue, and then stops, biting his lip. There's sweat at his temples, and he's looking a little bit like he regrets everything he's ever done.

(Tanuma wonders if the curse has started already, and the thought only redoubles his resolve.)

He turns to the side, his best guess at the spirit Natsume was talking to before, then glances over at Ponta, who's transformed back and is looking at him with that eerie, knowing gaze he gets. "Is there a way to transfer the curse?" he asks them.

There's silence, and then Natsume says, voice grim, "She thinks there is. She isn't sure."

"What do we need to do?"

Natsume shakes his head. "It's pointless. Who would I even pass it to?"

"Well, it's a truth curse, right? Ideally, someone like Nishimura," Tanuma says, smiling humorlessly. "I don't think he could keep a secret even if he wanted to, which he usually doesn't."

Natsume glares at him. "I couldn't possibly—"

"You can't do that to someone who doesn't know," Tanuma says. "I know. It'd be wrong, and if you could explain it to them first, you wouldn't have this problem in the first place."

Natsume's hands are shaking at his sides, but he's still smiling, trying to be brave.

"So it's me or Taki, then," Tanuma continues, and Natsume's smile crumbles. "I'm the better choice. Taki doesn't talk about these kinds of things with her parents, either."

Natsume looks ready to shut down the conversation altogether, so Tanuma presses on. "I don't have to lie to the people in my life," he says, voice and face hard, direct. He's trying not to be unkind, but he isn't sure it's working. "I'm very, very lucky in that. I'm the safest person to bear the curse, until we can find a way to deal with it. Maybe it won't even take at all."

Natsume shakes his head. "I can't..."

"You can't take this curse, Natsume," Tanuma says. "It would really, really hurt you."

"But—"

"You aren't listening to me," Tanuma says. "You can't say things even when you should, even when you seem to want to. I know that you keep secrets for good reasons. Do you really want to choose between frightening your friends and family by telling the truth, and worrying them when the curse takes effect?"

Natsume falls silent, then, but in his eyes Tanuma thinks he can see indecision.

"Taki survived a worse curse than this one," Tanuma says. "Let me take this much on."

"All right," Natsume says. "But if it causes any problems, we're putting it back. And we'll find a cure, somehow."

"Sure," Tanuma says, smile tight. "Think of it as a way to buy time."

The process for transferring the curse doesn't take very long at all. Half of it is invisible to Tanuma's eyes, but he can see the ritual circles easily enough, and he knows the moment the ritual is finished because something catches, ever so briefly, in his throat. He coughs, and falls to his knees.

"It's all right," he says a second later, as Natsume half-falls beside him and starts looking him over. His face is twisted in concern and guilt, and instinctively, Tanuma reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

"Are you sure?" Natsume asks. He searches Tanuma's face so, so carefully, looking for concealed pain or fear.

For a second, Tanuma feels lighter than air, and can't keep a faint smile from moving across his face. Natsume is so close and so open, where normally he's guarded, his kindness couching itself in a thoughtful distance.

"Yes," he says, the words floating out of him, effortless. "I'm okay. It doesn't even hurt."

"Okay," Natsume says. "Then we should get home. I need to call Natori, and probably Taki..."

They talk about the curse on the way home, but Tanuma can't help but feel that Natsume's worried over nothing. He's blessed with family and friends he doesn't need to hide from, not any part of himself; what would the spirit even have to work with?

It isn't until that evening, thinking over the events of the day and how it'd felt to be fussed over, that he feels the faint sensation, like a pinprick, in his chest, just under his ribs. He dismisses it as a phantom sensation and turns over, going to sleep.

Natsume talks to Natori that weekend, and gives Tanuma a charm to wear. He hangs it on a cord and wears it under his shirt, below his heart. He trusts Natsume enough to forget the matter there, though the occasional worried glance Natsume throws his way tells him that he might be the only one that's comfortable forgetting.

A few weeks later, as winter drags its bitter way along into the first hints of spring, it takes weeks of a cold getting progressively worse for Tanuma to even begin to wonder whether spirits are involved. Natsume's suspicions come first, of course, and he ends up soothing them before his own even really start.

For a little while, it seemed that every time Tanuma so much as came down with a cold, Natsume would give him that certain wide-eyed, wary look, like he was trying to figure out if something was going after him. After a while, he'd started to grow accustomed to the way Tanuma was out of class more frequently than the rest of their classmates, how everyone accepted this as more or less normal for him.

It takes longer, now, for an illness of his to raise red flags for Natsume, as long as there are no sudden headaches or other telling signs.

"Are you all right?" he asks, with that one specific concern in his voice, the third or fourth day that his persistent cough just won't settle.

"I'm fine," he says, with a fond smile, because a week or so to shake off the tail end of a cold is still well within a normal period of time, and Natsume hasn't adjusted that much, it seems. Tanuma doesn't like to worry Natsume, but it's nice, when it's something small and harmless and easy to reassure him of, to be reminded how much he cares.

When, a week later, it's still not great—when the coughing is more violent and more painful, he still doesn't think it's any more than a nasty cold. He switches to a different kind of medicine, starts carrying cough drops in his bag, and still doesn't suspect it's anything supernatural.

Until, of course, he realizes that breathing hurts a bit more when Natsume's around, and the pain lingers till a little while after.

It's like claws digging into his chest, tightening ever so slightly every time he breathes. It's like something rising up in his throat, occasionally choking him when he tries to brush off Natsume's concerned questions. It's a flutter in his heartbeat when Natsume stands by his elbow with an arm around him on the stairs, because he's been a little shaky lately and sudden coughing fits throw him off-balance.

(Come to think of it, that last one could be caused by something else entirely. Tanuma isn't sure whether that's better or worse.)

It doesn't even feel like he has words for it, for the crest of emotion that comes over him when Natsume leaves and all the things he can't say, can only feel, come crashing over him like waves.

What if he is lying, and it's the curse after all? How can he tell the truth if he can't find the words?

The next week, Tanuma starts staying home from school. Natsume goes over from the first day to go check on him, and though he wasn't expecting it, Nishimura and Kitamoto and Taki all come along.

Tanuma sounds awful—he's definitely got a nasty cold—but he seems pretty energetic otherwise. Kitamoto tells Nishimura off for trying to bring him a bouquet, talking about allergies and spring fever. Tanuma says cheerfully that he's never had much of anything like that, and rushes off to find a makeshift vase. They play card games and pretend they're going to work on their homework, and when Nishimura has to leave for cram school and Kitamoto to make dinner, Natsume and Taki linger behind briefly.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Taki asks him this time, quietly. "It's not the curse from before, is it?"

Tanuma just shrugs, looking between them. "If I figure anything out, you'll be the first to know. Probably I just need to sleep it off."

"Okay," Natsume says, but he doesn't look terribly happy about it.

Natsume comes by every day after that, sometimes bringing others with him, sometimes arriving alone. Tanuma would be lying if he said that he didn't appreciate the company.

The flowers Nishimura brought seem perfectly healthy, a welcome spot of color in the room, but petals keep appearing in odd corners of the room. One morning, Tanuma thinks he sees some on his pillow when he wakes up, but then he blinks and they're gone.

He sits up, coughs, takes some more medicine, and stumbles downstairs for breakfast.

By the time Natsume comes over that afternoon, the coughing has gotten worse. They make a half-hearted attempt at covering what they did in class—Natsume's grades might go up a little after all this, Tanuma teases him between coughing fits—and then try to play some shogi, but Tanuma can't concentrate, and they put that aside, too.

Suddenly, a coughing fit starts and doesn't stop. The tearing noise in his throat is painful just to listen to; Natsume doesn't want to imagine what it feels like. His hands rise of their own volition, but he isn't sure what to do with them.

The sensation of something slightly wet and oddly soft, cool even, lands on one of his palms. He lifts it to his face and sees that a flower petal has landed there. It's stained with blood at the corner.

Natsume feels a completely different kind of sick from Tanuma in that moment, dizzy and terrified.

"It's okay," Tanuma gasps, breathless, when this fit is over. "I've had worse than this. Really."

Natsume holds the petal to his face, examining it closely. The edges are ragged.

Tanuma blinks at him. "What is it?"

Natsume looks at him seriously. "Are you sure you're not hiding something?"

"...Ugh," Tanuma says, and rubs his face, sounding resigned. "Yes, I'm pretty sure." Still, he doesn't look surprised when he adds, "Why? What are you looking at?"

"Flower petals," Natsume says. "I think it's the curse from before."

"But..." Tanuma shakes his head. "It's not like I've been lying to anyone."  

"I believe you," Natsume says, frustrated. "Have you told your dad...what's going on? Would it help if I talked to him?'

"Maybe," Tanuma says. He's leaning against the pillow, face gray. "Actually, yes. I guess. You could invite him up here, and we could do it now."

They try. Natsume is intensely uncomfortable about talking about spirits with an adult who isn't Natori. He pushes through it anyway, and Tanuma's father, though he seems a bit lost, is also very grave.

At the end of the conversation, Tanuma has another coughing fit. The only thing that changes is that Natsume can double-check that Tanuma's father can't see the flower petals, either.

Tanuma's father takes him to the doctor the next day. They aren't sure what the problem is, but there seems to be something in Tanuma's lungs.

"It's liquid," Tanuma said. "They think the tissue there is getting weaker, or something."

Natsume isn't used to things like this having tangible effects, not like this. He is very, very scared.

"This is all my fault," he confesses, running his hands through his hair.

"It isn't," Tanuma says seriously, and how can he still have such an even keel about this? How can he still be looking at it logically when his life is in danger and Natsume is the one to blame? "I made a mistake. I thought I knew myself better than I did. It was hubris. Like we talked about in literature class, remember?"

Natsume smiles, but he knows the expression is pained. "Not really."

"Maybe you were sleeping through that part," Tanuma says, and it's so gentle that it doesn't even sound like a reprimand, barely like teasing. "I shouldn't have been so proud. I guess...I guess I was a little mad, too."

"Mad?" Natsume asks. He is not used to Tanuma being quite this honest, but he's remembered of raised arms on a hillside, terror abating slowly into relief and deep, deep regret as Tanuma bares his soul to him without meeting his eyes.

"I guess I was a little mad at you," Tanuma says in a tiny voice. It's a steady one, though, and not as breathless as Natsume has gotten used to. "You...I know you have good reasons for hiding things, Natsume. I know you do. Even when they're old reasons that aren't true anymore, they were still good ones, once. But...I wished you didn't have them. I thought that...that I wouldn't be like that. That I could show you that some people weren't like that, and maybe..." He pauses. "This is stupid," he says, frustrated. "I was stupid about this."

"No, keep going," Natsume insists. "Please."

Maybe this will help, he doesn't say, but the hope hangs between them anyway. Natsume is pretty sure that secrets that are open between the people talking about them don't count as secrets anymore.

"I thought...if I could show you, encourage you...then maybe you could change, too." Tanuma's shoulders hunch in on themselves. He looks miserable. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't work like that. I should have been more patient."

"Tanuma..." Natsume puts a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. It's okay to be frustrated with me. I get frustrated with me, too, sometimes."

"I'm mostly frustrated with myself at the moment," Tanuma admits, voice tight.

"That's okay," Natsume says, because he isn't sure what else there is to say.

He rubs Tanuma's back when the next fit comes, and brushes the fresh petals off the covers.

When Natsume comes back a few days later covered in dirt, with twigs in his hair and a cut across one cheek, he tries to blow it off as no big deal.

Tanuma's feverish and weak, but even so, he's having absolutely none of that.

"Did they hurt you anywhere else?" he asks. He's still mobile enough to shuffle to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit under the sink.

"I'm fine," Natsume says, looking alarmed. "You should stay in bed—”

"Please don't be like this," Tanuma says, sitting back on the bed and patting the space beside him. "Over here. It would hurt if that got infected."

Natsume looks very sad as he sits beside Tanuma, but something else creeps into his face as Tanuma starts to brush at the wound on his cheek, doing his best to be gentle.

Tanuma doesn't let himself look. He's trying to focus on doing a good job at this, and the pain in his chest is already distracting enough as it is.

"I don't want you to leave me out of the loop about things like this," he says. "I want to know what's happening to you."

He sees the corner of Natsume's mouth turn down in a frown. "I don't want to worry you when—”

"I'm going to worry anyway," Tanuma rasps out. "Please, don't keep me in the dark. Tell me when you're having trouble. At least let me be someone you can talk to. Let me do that much."

He pulls back, and sees that Natsume is shaking. It's hard to hide, when there's only a few inches of space between them.

"I don't...I can't..." he says, but stops like the words are sticking in his throat.

"What?" he asks, softly. He squeezes Natsume's arm, hoping to get him to lose that thousand-mile stare.

"You...if something happens to you...then..." Natsume finally manages to look at him. "I couldn't stand it," he says quietly. "I would rather have never...I can't let the world of youkai harm you because of me. No matter what happens."

It takes more than words for Tanuma to really understand, but some careful thinking. He imagines being Natsume, and having only three people in the world he can talk to. (Tanuma only has three people, too, but they're all human and they're his three most important people, and it's enough.) He remembers the bits and pieces of the stories Natsume's told, about spirits, and how so few of his friends aside from Ponta ever seem to stay.

Natsume's not seeing him as lesser, not the way Natori did even when he was being (barely) polite about it. He's afraid of being alone again, and the fear of Tanuma not being there to protest someday in the future weighs more heavily than his fear of hurting Tanuma's feelings in the present.

Tanuma almost thinks, in that moment, that he's pinned down what it is he has to say. There's something on the tip of his tongue, and yet...

He can feel the vines sink in deeper as he makes an exasperated face and musses Natsume's hair, but it doesn't matter. Natsume's shocked expression is almost worth it anyway.

"Silly," he says. "I'm not going anywhere."

When he comes upstairs to visit the next day, Tanuma's eyes seem glued to his lap.

"I went to the doctor again today," he said. "They're thinking about putting me in a hospital."

Natsume just stares at him, fear freezing the pit of his stomach.

"I'm sorr—" Tanuma starts, and then starts coughing again.

Helplessly, Natsume bends down to help him, rubbing his back and hoping against hope for the fit to pass.

"Natsu...me..."

They're barely even words anymore. Natsume's lucky he can recognize his own name from Tanuma's lips. There are petals clogging his mouth that Tanuma can't even see, can only half-feel, choking his every breath. This has gone altogether too far, and he's scared that if Natori isn't able to come up with the exorcism soon, there won't be enough left of Tanuma's lungs—of Tanuma's life—to save.

Then Tanuma's shaking hands reach up, and Natsume takes one of them, and feels them pushing weakly upwards. He guides them up till they're...on his face? But from the way they cling there, he hasn't interpreted Tanuma's gesture incorrectly. They pull slowly down, and Natsume brings is face down. He tries to turn his head, thinking that maybe Tanuma wants to whisper in his ear, but Tanuma's hands, weak as they are, resist the movement.

"Sorry," Tanuma mouths, when their mouths are bare inches apart, "just...once," and then he keeps pulling down and lunges upwards at the same time, and the soft bitterness of flower petals fills Natsume's mouth, the taste of blood coppery on his tongue.

And then Tanuma falls back, and Natsume reels, and then realizes, and there's a whirlwind of cherry blossoms.

There's no flashback, this time. No compilation of images to comprise a secret. No glimpse at what it was Tanuma saw, the first time the shy golden-haired boy arrived at their school, the first time they talked, the suspicious skulking as Natsume tried to get the measure of him.

There's only a warm body in his arms and Tanuma's gasping breaths, deep whooping, hacking coughs that are stronger than he's been able to manage in weeks. Petals and blood and other, worse things come up, and Natsume pulls himself behind Tanuma, rubbing his back as the boy wheezes, bent almost double.

There are tears streaming down his face by the time he's finished, and tears in Natsume's eyes, too, of sympathetic pain. He's trying to think through the panic, but his eyes keep being drawn to the bloody roots that only he can see, torn from the inside of Tanuma's ribcage as the spirit-seed finally gives up its claim there.

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" is what he says first. It's impossible for it not to, looking at the evidence of all that pain and fear. "Why did you take the curse, if it was something you wanted to hide?"

"I didn't realize," Tanuma says. His voice is a haggard disaster of a shadow of itself, much like he is. "I didn't know."

"How can it be a secret if you didn't know?" Natsume asks, suddenly angry on his behalf.

Tanuma stares down at his hands. "I guess it was a secret I was keeping from myself, too."

"Well, just to be safe," Natsume says. He climbs out from behind Tanuma and half-sits, half-kneels on the chair beside him. He takes Tanuma's hands, blood-speckled as they are, and squeezes them, looking seriously straight into Tanuma's eyes. "Tell me everything."

So Tanuma does.

They can't stay in that position for long; soon enough, Tanuma is hiding his face again, the embarrassment and the intensity of it all getting to him. Still, he keeps talking.

Natsume almost wishes he could turn away, too, but he doesn't dare miss a single word. Not when it's Tanuma's safety they're talking about.

Not when he didn't expect to have this conversation with Tanuma, ever, in either of their lives.

When it's said out loud...it's not as much as Natsume's expecting. It's still a lot—it's incredible, it feels out of nowhere, it's terrifying—but it's really just a bunch of feelings. Very strong ones, but not so overwhelming that it didn't take Tanuma months to track them down.

It's a bunch of hopes for the future, but that's just what they are—hopes. And the more of them Tanuma says out loud, the clearer they get, the more manageable.

It's like a spirit. Shadows twitching at the corners of his vision will frighten Natsume every time—they can overwhelm him with fear, even when what's causing them turns out to be something small, or relatively harmless.

But hearing Tanuma's words out in the open like this...it's different. It has Natsume thinking about things that he's felt, and the longer he hears where Tanuma is coming from, the more the feelings inside him become less ambiguous, too.

As he listens, too, an answer starts to grow inside him, like a plant unfurling new leaves. He can feel it changing into something very different from what he would have expected even a few hours ago, when they both thought that Tanuma was dying.

"I." He stalls, realizing he doesn't even know how to start.

"Tanuma," he says, looking for the words that are true, because after what he's gone through to bring the truth out, Tanuma deserves Natsume's very best effort, "I care about you, so much. I haven't really thought about...the rest of it. It's difficult. I know more about youkai than people, and the way youkai love is...complicated. I don't know what's different and what's the same. But..."

He chokes, and isn't expecting it. He's terrified, for a second, of flower petals...but no, this is just plain old tears.

Tanuma's scrubbing at the few drying flecks of blood on his hands, looking self-conscious. Natsume fetches the rag from where it's lying over the edge of the basin on the bedside table and helps him start to clean them off on something that won't stain the sheets worse than they've already been stained.

"I'm so...so glad that you're not dying," he says, finally, voice tight, knowing that it's not enough. Waiting for the prickle of vines and leaves and roots, and feeling awful, because this is about Tanuma, not him. "I'm so sorry that I made you go through all of that. I don't...I don't understand why you're even still here," and here's the truth, because it's coming out faster than he can control it. "I don't know how you can feel any of that, and not hate me for what I did to you."

"I don't hate you," Tanuma says simply, and if he's irritated by how basic that is, how far behind Natsume is in understanding him, he doesn't show any sign. "I've never hated you. I've always been curious, and then I've admired you, and been scared for you, and angry I couldn't help you, and...I want to be here for you, Natsume. Always."

When Tanuma puts it like that—less of the hearts and star-crossing and more of the simple, steady practicality of it—Natsume thinks of how little he wants to leave now, how little he wants to leave ever, and smiles.

"I think," he says, and has to take a breath against tears in his throat. "I think I'm okay with that. I want to, to help you, instead of hurting you and making you worry all the time, and I'm not sure I can, but..."

"You're...already telling me so much more than you used to," Tanuma says, and there's a quiet peace in his voice. "I must have...wow. This feels really, really good. I must have really wanted you to know."

Something in Natsume's chest warms at the thought. "I definitely know," he says. "I'm not...I don't know how...ugh, I wish I was better at this."

"You don't have to be," Tanuma says. "I don't want you to fell like you have to be anything you're not. I just want to help you. And have fun with you." He bites his lip with a tiny twinge of what looks like guilt. "And...uh, maybe..."

His fingers find their way into Natsume's. He's blushing, Natsume realizes, and it's more than the leftover flush of fever, if his eyes aren't deceiving him. Then again, he's pretty sure his face is giving him away, too.

He's no good, for someone who's an expert at life-threatening situations, at responding to sudden displays of emotion like this. But he twines Tanuma's fingers in his own, and thinks about what he might do later, when Tanuma is feeling better...and for now scoots forward and sits behind Tanuma again, bracing himself so the boy can lie against him.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs in Tanuma's ear, and Tanuma shivers, and nods.

"Good," Natsume says. "Lean back. You need to rest, after all that. We'll clean up in a little bit, and you can ask your dad to set up a doctor's appointment in a day or two, so you can be sure you're really okay, and we can start looking at homework..."

"Ack, stop it," Tanuma says, half-laughing as he slumps against Natsume's chest. "I'm feeling half-dead already, quit killing my will to live."

Natsume chuckles, breathy and afraid of dislodging him, and strokes one hand absently against Tanuma's hair before wrapping a reassuring arm around his shoulders.

They wake up two hours later, covered in small spots of drying blood and a mess of plant life only Natsume can see, and Tanuma turns and smiles at Natsume, and they feel a flutter in both their chests.

They don't say anything about it, not yet, truth or no, because this growing thing is still fragile, needs to be nurtured, not uprooted. It will take time, and care, and it could grow into something very dangerous indeed.

But none of that stops them from quiet smiles, and getting caught looking at each other for a moment too long. It doesn't stop the lingering goodbye hugs, or cuddling the next two afternoons. And, when Tanuma's deemed well enough to go to school the third day after, it doesn't stop them from walking half the way there holding hands.

[chamiryokuroi]

swankitty replied to your post: As it turns out I have been asleep most of the day...

WHAT??? why in the world would she do that???

The best remedy for a cold is to rest, and I am known for not giving a fuck when I am sick and doing everything but resting, so she kind of like decided I was going to rest yes or yes. It wasn’t exactly a sleeping pill per se but like something to relax... I have no idea how to translate what it was, but is not as bad as I made it sound... still Aunt, what the fuck????

[lovingnikiforov]

swankitty replied to your post “I can’t vote on Twitter, but I would like more fluff. My reasoning is...”

dessa: next chapter is dazai's pov ; me: yodels into the void

what can i say. i am here to give the ppl what they want.....

[kohakhearts]

(oops lol) uhh bungou stray dogs??

it’s ok!! thank you swan <3

fave character: oda! atsushi is a close second tho!least favourite character: ummm idk haha! mori maybe?otp: dazatsu!!brotp: aku and gin im so soft for siblings hahanotp: souk/oku idk why i’m just not a fan :’c

send me a fandom!

[palms-upturned]

Hello, glad you're back! For the three-sentence thing, Ginzura please

@swankitty said: DO THE GINZURA!!

OOOOH NICE NICE THANK U GUYS

✐ three sentence fic meme

Gin brushes his fingers through Katsura’s roughly cut hair, the edges uneven and yet surprisingly soft.

“I was thinking of keeping it this way,” Zura admits, his voice reserved, and he watches Gintoki’s reaction closely, as if unsure of himself.

Gin stares back, his gaze unwavering as he takes in Zura’s newly framed face, stern and subdued – yet he thinks he looks softer, somehow, just like when they were kids, and Gin looks away as something seems to squeeze the air from his lungs, painstakingly slow, and he simply mumbles, “Either way, you’re still Zura.”

[ask-narsus]

Arslan Senki Holiday Exchange 2k16

For: Swan @swankitty - Who requested Daryun and Narsus or the whole squad, And a Canon, Modern AU or Mythical Creatures AU.

Happy Holidays!

There are many omens said to herald a great ruler - Strange sights in the sky, fantastical swords or shining lights, Omens and portends that prophecy their approach. It is rare that the omens themselves choose their ruler.

The Qilin of legend are good omens. Upon their appearance a great sage or grand ruler is sure to appear. The Qilin heralds peace and they foretells prosperity but their favor is not bestowed lightly. They pick their masters carefully because  there is nothing that can sicken a country so fast as the wrong ruler.

They are Daryun and Narsus for now - they have had other names before and they will have other names again, just like . The mantle of a name is an easily shed thing when you move through the mortal world like a leaf in the current passing the pebbles of a river. In this age they watch the empire fester with corruption in the priesthood and the nobility, slavery, treachery and light is a little prince - he’s barely even a candle’s flame. But he could be a beacon.

A tower of flame. A Golden King. A sun for a kingdom now so frequently in shade.

Daryun and Narsus set their tests and Prince Arslan meets every one of them. It is Narsus this time around that needs more convincing but in the end he is convinced. Daryun and Narsus take on the roles that this little prince needs, be it protector, teacher, father or sacrifice. They do as they always have done and become the wings to raise their king.

In time the world turns. The world changes and they do too. They are no longer Daryun and Narsus nor warriors and nobles but they are still together. Two leaves on a river. Perhaps the world no longer needs kings. But the world needs leaders.

There are many omens said to herald the coming of a great ruler. The Qilin are good omens.

[exile-wrath]

hanahaki disease !

How likely I am to like it: While I love the idea, not very likely because there are only three ways for it to turn out. Either the love is requited, the person with it dies, or the surgery happens to remove it.

... actually wait I’m kind of likely to write it bc I just got a great idea for an absolutely terrible hanahaki disease outcome lolol

What pairings I would write it for: any that I’m interested in. none of my otps are safe.