#for clarity sake I had a fever

[rice-pudding-slaps]

how last week went

[ikemenomegas]

Bloody Monday, Blue Diamond

new underrated polycule, Villain!nanami, you, and getou.

Nanami succumbs to the utterly understandable despair of late-stage capitalism and decides he's tired of working with the people who create it by scamming those on the cusp of retirement to create their own wealth. He snaps etc etc, blood, guts, pollock spatters all around.

He's fully expecting to get caught and initially thinks he doesn't have the arrogance to avoid capture. He did it. He'll have the courtesy to look his old classmates in the eye (...maybe not Ijichi) when whomever comes for him.

Except Suguru gets there first.

The flashbang of Nanami's energy didn't originally read like teenaged Saturday night rave Nanami and plenty of techniques involve novel ways to cleave things, so Suguru thought this was some newly realized sorcerer, thought maybe he could provide some guidance.

At first, Nanami isn't sure whether to simply stay seated on his old boss's favorite leather chair, sprawled perhaps a bit more than was polite, or bare his teeth. He's sure it would make a horrifying visage, covered in gore as he was. Or perhaps he should simply curse Getou out, for old-time's sake.

But Suguru smiles, welcoming and nearly ecstatic. Immediately, Nanami pings that something is more wrong with Suguru than expected, but, well... he looks around at the three bodies separated at the shoulders or shins.

The clarity is beginning to die away with the adrenaline high by the time you peak around the door, clearly looking for Suguru, but brightening almost comically when you catch sight of Nanami, different than he was as your kohai more than five years ago.

"Hells, this place made you old," you scoff, a very open mixture of disgust and pity and curiosity and a totally unfamiliar hunger aimed right at him.

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "That's not very polite."

You gave him an utterly irreverent look back. "Yes, I know."

Nanami found himself torn, whether to laugh. Or perhaps to scream. Both jockeyed as equally viable options given this was increasingly becoming some kind of fever dream.

Suguru held his hand out to help you step, nose wrinkled, over a pool of blood that revealed the lazy lean of the room. Nanami found himself glaring distastefully at one of the managers piled across the cheap carpeting. It seemed representative of the current situation that the people who were supposed to call in repairs now didn't need to worry about being four years late.

He'd half tuned out what you and Suguru were saying to one another, but he was practiced at half-ignoring conversations that did not interest him while still tracking their tragectory.

"I've no interest in coming with you," he said blandly, looking around for something to clean his blade on. It had been with him for a very long time, and he would like it at least to be taken care of.

"Oh please, we're not kidnappers," you replied archly. To which Nanami simply glanced at you in the kind of way that implied he hadn't been considering you bodily dragging him out of this horror show, but now he knew it had been one of the first options you had.

Suguru laughed in a helpless, familiar sort of way that also made Nanami think this was some sort of joke.

"We can't force you-"

That was clearly a lie.

"- but it would be in your best interest not to be here in about... ten more minutes."

Without much of apparent interest at the scene of Nanami's deciding crime, Suguru was clearly attempting to wrap this up.

"I'll stay," Nanami said evenly, his conviction as sturdy and inevitable as when he had first stepped into the office with a weapon in his hands. This was not an event meant to be ignored. Over thirty people slaughtered at a fairly reputable finance firm wasn't something that was going to go over well with the press, Nanami thought grimly. Satisfied.

He felt briefly remorseful for the people he knew in passing who would find themselves tainted in a way by knowing him.

It took him a few moments to realize how far silence had extended around him, between you and he, and how there was a crawling feeling going over his skin. He glanced out the window, but it was as bright and sunny a day as when he had come inside. There was no evidence of the kind of monsoon thunderheads that might pile on the horizon.

There were a quartet of over-large, prickly centipedes and the same of stringy earthworms wrapped around his arms and legs. Even with far worse around him, he found himself slightly put off by the conflicting textures.

"Sorry, Nanami," you were saying, tiptoeing over dotted mirrors of drying black blood to get right in front of him with a determined set to your mouth that still communicated the hell you are, and that you were a bit grossed out as you leaned in to touch him.

"What-" was all he got out before light, sound, and then consciousness cut completely out.

He awoke quite gently laid out on a refuse pile. Or...

Yes, there was something soft in the bag on his left. Opening it despite his better judgement revealed some plain clothes, a bit broader in the shoulder and waist than his own size, but serviceable. And it appeared his exposed skin had largely been cleansed of the rusty freckling he'd worn in the office.

He could still see it, the towering building, 35th floor. He didn't much care to count but high-rises stacked much like the tiny boxes of a spreadsheet, so he felt he made a fairly accurate guess.

The third grade curse had been hiding behind the bag, revealed as he lifted himself from the literal garbage pile and began divesting himself of his sullied suit, as comfortable as if he were in the apartment he'd likely never be able to go back to.

Briefly, he mourned the loss of his books and his plants and his other, nicer, better fitting clothing, all while keeping an eye on the curse.

Which looked rather sullen, if a curse could look sullen, as it watched him too.

When he was dressed, still in his dress shoes as the ones in the bag were a touch too large, the curse gave a dull, breathy sigh and drifted to one end of the alley.

He was clearly meant to follow.

So, he did. It directed him to a boring but tidy hotel where the curse concealed him from the front desk with some minor technique, spiriting him away to the 14th floor before giving a relieved sigh, or perhaps a mournful one as it was rid of him, and drifting through a wall of the room he'd been led to.

There was a black burner phone on the table beneath the television and another, smaller, bag on the chair. He stared at both and then went to kick off his dress shoes, strip off his socks, and fall back against the mattress, as comfortable as most hotel mattresses usually were.

A quick sniff at the collar of his borrowed t-shirt revealed an unfamiliar detergent, and it clicked into place that these must be Suguru's clothes somehow, although he hadn't thought you knocked him out for that long.

He turned his head this way and that and thought he should probably shower. It was a bit gross, his hair sticky with gel and sweat. At least there were two beds in the room. He could lie on the other later too.

He smiled briefly. Hysterical. What luxury.

What horrible, awful people you'd both remained.

He thought that after his shower, he should probably call you, for surely that number was in the new phone on the table under the television. He could give Suguru his shoes back.

And, it came to him with a grim sort of irritation, it wasn't as though he'd planned anywhere else to go.

[leslie057]

to kiss away the fevers of girls;

pairings: jonathan/nancy, jonathan/original female character

rating: m

word count: 3.5k (chapter 1)

summary: after a near-death experience, nancy clips through dimensions and incidentally fuses with the body of pierson adams—jonathan's girlfriend in an alternate reality.

read on ao3

@jancyweeks day 2: upside down

The name for it is paradoxical lucidity—clarity where there should be none. She knows this because of Titus Andronicus. How someone can be so sharp, so productive and driven, at the height of their madness…a dumb plot device, but realer than real. It happens. The biggest revelations, the most comprehensive strategies, they just come to her when she’s at rock bottom. This was her baby sister that was lost (still is lost), and what, everyone really thought she would wait an additional day for them to make their plan? When waiting might as well be surrendering?

She’s never cared any less about Elizabethan revenge tragedies than she does right now; Titus didn’t go through any of this bullshit.

All she can think about is being held. All she wants is to not be completely alone when she dies like this, paralyzed on a damp bed of failure.

The concept of terminal lucidity fits right in there with paradoxical lucidity. Premortem Nancy is currently experiencing a clarity more brilliant than the Cullinan Diamond. I shouldn’t have snuck into the radio station. I shouldn't have taken ammunition that belonged to Hopper. I shouldn’t have crawled onto my new ex-boyfriend in his camping cot just because I was sad, and I shouldn’t have told him we could try sleeping together as friends. I shouldn’t have snuck out of the radio station after. I should have never gone to the woods by myself. I should have never assumed that I would see signs of my sister. I shouldn’t have kept going when I noticed the layer of ash on the forest floor getting thicker. I shouldn’t have denied that I was already in the Upside Down, that it had come to me. I shouldn’t have made so much noise, and I shouldn’t have called out to Holly, and I shouldn’t have shot at the Inverwasps that Henry was somehow, somewhere, controlling. Nobody with a brain would shoot at giant, swarming wasp creatures. Nobody with a brain would try to shoot an ordinary wasp, for God’s sake.

How such insects thrive in a place as cold as this, she has no idea. How they developed fur and extendable teeth, she has no idea. There are more mutations than she could have ever imagined. It almost seems that the inactive sectors of the dimension were recently awakened (maybe when she tried to kill their puppeteer) and forced into a state of frenzy. If she had to guess, it won’t be long before they all pour out into Hawkins and beyond. The two worlds may very well coalesce within weeks.

It happened fast; she was weaving calmly and swiftly through the trees, pleading with a six-year-old to follow the sound of her voice, and then the nest fell suddenly, and then she was curled up on the ground and they were all over her. She wasn’t prepared for anything like that. She wasn’t prepared.

Her strategy had been courageous, not comprehensive.

Whimpering, she covers her head and face. They are not merely stinging, they’re also cutting with their conical incisors, over and over again. Her breath is quick, her pulse erratic as the territorial pests compete for her inside her clothing, each buzzing wingbeat sending tremors through her body. They have a weight to them, confusingly, a weight that bears down hard. She can feel fur that’s like crushed velvet as their teeth slice into her flesh, tiny cuts that should burn more but are becoming numb.

Years ago, at the front of a science classroom, she presented on the topic of snakes because Mike loved them so much. He was in the first grade, and his class often came to sit in for big kid presentations. Snake venom is a complex cocktail of proteins and enzymes designed to immobilize and subdue prey. In humans, certain types of venom, especially neurotoxic varieties, can interfere with nerve signals and lead to paralysis. By blocking the communication between nerve cells and muscles, the venom freezes victims and can rapidly incapacitate a person if untreated. He was itty bitty, and he was fascinated. Didn't scare him one bit.

She cannot say the same of herself.

A part of her had expected it to end this way. Not in these woods, not on an arbitrary Wednesday night, not under a colony of supernatural bugs, but in the collapse of everything she had tried to hold together. Holly is thoroughly missing and has been for days. Everyone else was pausing, resting, waiting to think of something while Nancy had rushed ahead, as always, unable to sit still when every moment felt like one wasted. She’d thought she could handle it. Now, as the unearthly creatures gnaw at her, she realizes she was treating her life a little bit like a game…

continue ↴

[cielles-random-vault]

a lonely night (miguel ohara x gn!reader)

‼️ consider this as the second part of the series‼️

disclaimer: it's still an ongoing series and i'll organize it when i will have written more episodes though i don't like the idea of a timeline bc it's like one shots and 🧍🏻‍♀️ idfk bro i js specified for clarity

this is the very first part of my lonely series! idk if i will make this series a miguel x reader only but :> even made my own tag 🦦

part two/one here !

also you don't need to read all the stories to like understand the plot they're js one shots and a good way to cope w my crippling loneliness (this is actually a call for help /srs

Warning: implied suicide (not really because it’s a cliffhanger but it may be triggering to some people idk so I’m still putting a warning.)

Also I’m not really sure abt the “don’t put words in my mouth” bc I’m not a native speaker but in case it isn’t clear I meant that reader basically said “don’t make me say what I didn’t say”

Also 2 there is no mention of gender bc I’m trying my best to like write for my fellow enby pals but jk reader will be fem bodied.

Also 3 I’m asking this once again but please reblog this if you liked it it helps small writers a lot please and fank yew

Also 4 BIG THANKS TO DEEPL WRITE FOR PROOFREADING THIS WHEN I WAS LAZY TO IT MYSELF some AIs need their ass ate fr

(ignore the random ass banner lmao)

You were chilling on a rooftop before you felt a familiar presence.

-What are you doing up this late, carino? Asked the voice.

You didn’t know why neither how, but somehow you instantly knew it was him.

The one who was known to save every universe despite everything.

He sure was a good leader, sometimes he was mean, but it was all for the sake of the many universes he had to protect.

He was a good leader for sure, but a good lover? There’s no way you could count on that.

You loved him very much and you know how painful it was for him to show any kind of affection, but tonight you had too much of holding everything inside.

He put his hands on your waist, sneaking a kiss on your lips before sitting next to you, both your legs dangling in the shining lights of the city.

The weather was cold for a beginning of summer, but it was nothing compared to the cold residing in your heart.

Your relationship was bound to come to an end, and you were here for this end to come.

-Is something wrong my love? Miguel hastened to ask when he noticed your expression was off.

-Do you truly love me? You asked, ignoring his question.

He stiffened at the hearing of your question.

-Of course, why wouldn’t I? he asked worried.

-Listen. I’m going to be straightforward with you. I’m pregnant. And I want the baby to have both parents when they grow up. And I think, with both of us being heroes, this won’t work. Don’t put words in my mouth, I do love you with all my heart and you know it. But I can’t do it anymore. (tears start falling on your cheeks but you continue anyway:)  I am grateful for all the things we lived but I think our relationship is meant to end anyway. I’m sorry but I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

You stood at the edge of the building and disappeared in a snap.

-Goodbye, Miguel.

~~~~

You woke up in a hurry, instinctively looking for your husband.

-Is everything ok, my love? Miguel was quick to ask. (he put a hand on your forehead) did you catch a cold or something? You seem to have a fever.

-I’m okay don’t worry! You say with a frank smile. I just had a nightmare but nothing to worry about I promise.

-Mm. If you say so, he said with a tint of doubt in his voice. I’ll stay in bed with you just in case something happens, ok?

Without waiting for your response, he forcefully got into your bed, which made you move.

You inevitably fell into your husband’s arms as he put his arm on your shoulder with your head on his chest, feeling his soft breathing and hearing his heartbeat.

Despite everything, the work he had, the countless nights you spent waiting for him to return home, even wondering if he ever would, the arguments, you were in love with him. And it even if it was hard, he and him only was the one you decided to love.

And that was beautiful.

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Careful [12]

Honestly, Dark Autumn Complex is doing it right. They aren't in a giant hotel/casino mashup where all of the big guys perform, they're in a little bar down the strip. Still enough room for tons of people, but it isn't crawling with bodies like bugs under my fucking skin.

And it's a really nice bar, by the way. Mostly an indoor venue, but they have a little patio right in front of New York, New York-- and also some really tasty looking chicken wings.

My only complaint is the copious and nauseating amount of liquid covering the floor. Yea, people are living it up in here, but I think they're living a little too hard. This is definitely a toxic mixture of vomit, alcohol, and urine-- but I'm not the one who's going to actually confirm that.

Todd, on the other hand...

"For fuck's sake," the man hisses, taking knee-to-chest steps through the nasty flood on the floor. "I shouldn't have come. It'll take me weeks to get this stench off of my shoes."

"Oh, come on Toddler. It's not that bad," Larry harumphs, elbowing an unamused Todd in the ribs.

I snort, shaking my foot out after passing through a particularly goopy substance. Is this even real? It has to be a fever dream. "Actually, it is that bad, Lar. Even The Hangover wasn't this over the top."

Larry rolls his eyes next to me. "You're just a bunch of weaklings. Right, Sal?"

My head drops down at the sound of his name. I'll only add to the mess on the floor if I so much as look at him. He really hurt my feelings, and it's embarrassing to admit that.

The man doesn't say a word, but then again, none of us should have expected him to. He's a little... no. I shouldn't be angry, I should be upset. He hurt my damn feelings. More importantly, I should be focused on why his words hurt so damn bad. It's not like I expect something better from him.

Why do I have expectations at all in regards to him?

Not to mention, there's the daunting fact that he's finally texted Lexi. I don't know what to do-- I don't even think I want to reply. But unfortunately, there's a part of me that would feel horrible for making Lexi ghost him when he clearly cares about her to some degree.

Too many questions, not enough answers, and way too many worries. I'll file this all away in my cabinet titled Later.

Our group continues to push through the crowd. We're about an hour early, as per request on behalf of Ash who's hoping to find hot girls. Can't hate on the game, I just hope I have a bed to sleep in tonight.

I watch my every move, all three boys trailing behind me as I walk along the sopping ground. The LED's flash across feet and skin, and more importantly, the slick floor makes the light reflections seem even brighter. That means I'm blinded the entire way with only a few moments of relief and clarity.

There's one step I take in which my foot catches against something, so I desperately grab onto Ash's forearm to keep myself steady. She doesn't even look back, just lets me hold onto her-- I guess she's used to having me around already. That's cute. So, I balance myself then let go, traipsing through this toxic quarry of sorts.

Something I've never learned, no matter how many times it's made itself known to me, is to never trust myself. Or my feet, for that matter. If there's an open opportunity for me to be clumsy, my body will absolutely break in two to ruin my day and everyone else's.

Our prime example tonight is when I slip on a meticulous placed slice of banana bread that has had a wonderful time soaking up all the liquids on the floor.

The entire ordeal mimics the classic banana peel take-down. I mean-- really. My hands fly up, my legs about damn near follow me as I start flying toward the ground, unable to catch myself with Ash's arm this time.

I'm bracing for impact and a nasty swim in the thick contents below when hands slide under my arms, catching me right before I can hit the ground.

There's an awkward beat of silence where I'm hanging from hands with my ass hovering over the ground. I take a breath and glance up. Another beat of silence when I see that it's Sally who caught me.

He's leaned over me, watching me with agitated, narrowed eyes and his fluffy hair falling around his face. His fingers are digging into the flesh of my arms, his rings cold against my skin. The way heat envelops me in a millisecond both pisses me off and has me fighting for a way to get out of this situation.

I huff out a frustrated breath, blowing my hair away from my mouth and slapping a glare onto my face that I know he'll be able to see in my gaze. And then those infuriatingly pretty eyes of his roll before he puts some weight onto my arms, helping me back into a standing position.

I bite the inside of my cheek when he pulls his hands away from me quickly. I hate how much I enjoy his touch, but I blame the accent. I blame the style. I blame the allure. I blame it all. Even the asshole personality.

And I sure as hell am not about to thank him after what he said to me earlier. So I dust off my skirt, making sure it didn't manage to touch the... secretions... on the floor. But as I'm double-checking myself, he grumbles out, "Careful."

My head snaps to the side to look at him so aggressively that I'm worried I've snapped my neck for a moment. Did he really just say that? Have the gates of hell opened up on earth? Is this the end of times? Because there's no fucking way he just told me to be careful.

"Damn, Vi," Larry breaks my stare-off with Sal for a moment as he walks around us. He claps a hand on my shoulder, a gorgeous grin plastered on his lips that distracts me for just a second, only a second. "Falling for me already?"

"If that was me falling for you, then this has to be a Stockholm Syndrome thing because there's no way I wasn't going to slip on this floor," I reply, cocking an eyebrow when his smile falls into a pout.

"Awe, c'mon. You wouldn't be complaining so much if you actually fell," he notes, tilting his head inquisitively. "In fact, you'd be doing a backstroke right about now had you hit the floor."

No wonder he and Sal are best friends.

Todd walks past Larry, cackling the entire way as he passes us up. And Larry knows he's won, so he raises his eyebrows, a sly smirk pulling his lips as he turns away to catch up with Ash.

And then it's just me and Sal again.

I watch him closely, waiting for him to say something since he's looking at me like he has words just on the tip of his tongue. And then I hear a syllable leave his undoubtedly pretty mouth and immediately cut him off with, "If you're going to be a cunt, you might as well shut the fuck up right now because I'm absolutely in the mood to punch you in the middle of all these people."

He looks confused, shocked for a moment. I can even see his eyebrows because they're scrunched together, but then he seems to understand my words and proceeds to roll his eyes so hard that it literally looks painful.

"Larry gave you enough hell," he says shortly, adjusting his stance as he regards me with those forever irritated blue eyes. "I was going to say, do you remember what I said to you? That shitty stuff?"

Is this some kind of trick question? Because who could possibly forget the shit he said to me? But then again-- he just acknowledged that it was shitty... what kind of Sal Fisher am I witnessing right now?

I watch him with wary eyes, too afraid to look into the angry facade of his because just beneath that facade is an actual drop of vulnerability. And I don't think I like seeing him this open and fucking... fucking understanding.

"I guess that's a stupid question," he mumbles to himself, never breaking our eye contact. But then he sighs and speaks yet again. "I saved you. That's all the apology you're going to get."

A weight so heavy lifts from my soul and I feel like I'll start floating any second now. The barbed wire around my heart loosens, the boulders bouncing around my brain shrink. And I'm left with feelings I don't want to have, but feelings that are welcomed either way. I feel like, for the first time, Sal and I are on even ground. We both know something was wrong, and he even apologized, even if that apology was saving me from social suicide and reminding me to be careful. He wanted to make up for the way he broke me earlier. And he did.

And I also want to say that finding common ground with Sal is fucking weird.

"This is weird," I voice, suddenly tensing up over the awkwardness floating around us.

Sally's eyes close with relief and he seems to relax just a bit. "It is fucking weird. So can we forget about today and just continue the way we have been?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. That's even weirder," I sputter out, taking a quick step away from him as my heart flutters over his words. I can't believe his willingness to let bygones be bygones is so fucking hot to me. Maybe it's because this is something I didn't think I'd ever get from him. I'm not sure. "Yes, fuck, anything to stop you from being sentimental. Please."

"Cool. Glad we agree," he grumbles, looking up and past me. Then he actually starts walking, intent on passing me.

But my eyes bug out of my head. "No, not cool! I don't fucking want us to agree-- just shut up. Stop fucking talking," I grit out as he passes me, turning to walk behind him.

Sal's head turns, eyes acknowledging me with disbelief. His voice is higher-pitched and filled with aggravation as he says, "How are you going to tell me to shut up when you fucking never do it yourself? Hypocrisy isn't cute."

"Oh, yea?" I retort, folding my arms against my chest as heat wells in my chest. He really is always fighting me, and he should be thanking me right now. I was just trying to end whatever weird shit was just happening. "Don't talk about hypocrisy Mr. I-Want-To-Fuck-You-But-I-Don't. Go try that one on for size."

"Didn't I just tell you to forget that?" he says exasperatedly. "Do you deliberately ignore every bit of sound advice you get?"

"If it's coming from you-- hell yea, I ignore it," I snort, stopping my walking when we finally catch up with Ash, Larry, and Todd who are standing in front of the stage.

Sal turns to me with fury burning in his eyes and I relish in it. This is normal. This is back to what we were doing just earlier today. No apologies, no forgiveness-- just going back to what we know.

"Wow, yea." He says, showing off dramatic jazz hands. "That sounds about right. Dumb bitch can't do anything but tear herself apart."

"Boo hoo," I answer, placing my hands on my hips. This is a good one. No one can hear us so we can just wail away on each other-- keeps me busy. It's pretty fun too. Exercises my funny bone. "Sounds like something the selfish prick would say. Assume that everyone's falling apart while he's so put-together, right?"

"You--" Sal starts, voice piercing straight through me with its sheer ferocity, but he cuts himself off with a frustrated groan, eyeing me with a sickening glare the entire time. "What fucking ever. Just shut up."

"Happy to know I won," I chirp, smiling sweetly at him.

I'm sure he's about to burst and reign hell on me, but a security guard approaches us. A flash of fear slams into me and I shrink in on myself when I realize this guy has probably been watching Sally and I yell back and forth at each other for a few minutes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Sally dip his head down too, a sign of nerves and shame. Hm. Serves him right.

The security guard, a huge and burly man that somehow stands a bit taller than Larry stops in front of Sally and I. He has an impenetrable glare in his eyes and a face so emotionless that it sickens me just thinking about how strong he must be.

And worse, he isn't looking at me. His grey eyes are dead set on Sally beside me.

I gulp, a chill running down my spine as the guard crosses his arms over his chest. Sal looks like he's about to literally start shaking and, hell, I don't blame him. I'm not far off from doing the same.

Sally's the type to put up a fight, clearly, but sometimes you have to know when fighting is no use. When fighting means you'll get thrown into a hospital. This is that time and I've never viewed this asshole as intellectual before, but I think he's making a good call by holding off right now.

Eyes still set on the bluenette, the security guard finally speaks in a deep, booming, authoritative voice. "I need you to come with me," he says to Sally and I feel like I'm going to shit myself.

Holy crap, I do not want to end my night on this type of scenario. With the fact that I got the notorious Sally Face arrested. I do not want that sitting on my conscience because the second this motherfucker gets out of jail, he's coming for me. Aw, fuck.

I watch the security guard with a gaping mouth, noting the way Sally's eyes widen. They're so big right now that I'm a tad worried they'll roll right out of his face, but I focus on getting out of dodge first.

"Um," I mumble shakily, shrinking back a bit more. I'm so going to throw up once this is done. "Is everything okay, sir? Are we in trouble?"

My main goal is to not die right now. And if the man who hates me most gets arrested or something tonight, I won't have a head in a few days. There's no doubt.

Okay, sure, I'm probably really overreacting but anyone would be in this situation. I mean this guy is huge and so, so intimidating.

The security guard looks down at me with aggravation and confusion flashing across his face. He raises a blonde eyebrow that could cut air and suddenly I think that vomit sesh I was saving for later is going to happen now.

"Who the hell are you?" He asks, looking down at me and squinting his eyes. "I'm here to grab the blue-haired kid in the mask and the really tall, super emo, questionably buff guy."

I blanch for a moment, staring up at the behemoth security guard that I just embarrassed myself in front of. What did Sal and Larry do? Are they both about to get arrested?

I glance over at Sally and he matches my gaze, shrugging subtly. His blue eyes are filled with wariness and concern as he turns his eyes back to the man.

And then the security guard looks like he's about to drop kick both of us, if his horrifyingly intimidating glare is a hint at anything, that is.

"Come on," he growls out, making me flinch in fear. "North wants you," he points to Sal, "and the really massive emo guy with the Dave Grohl hair. Can you hurry the fuck up?"

My eyes widen. Oh, for fuck's sake. Dark Autumn Complex's lead singer asked for Larry and Sal, which, hold on, how do they know that the boys are here? Is that even possible?

My eyes narrow as quickly as they previously widened. Something's weird about this.

I watch Sally from the corner of my eye, noting the relief that swamps his pretty azure irises. He puts a hand to his chest and breathes deep, throwing his head over his shoulder to call for Larry who turns to us with a raised eyebrow.

Larry sees the giant security guard and stiffens up like a Tom and Jerry character come to life. It's comical up until the guy gets into position to bolt out of dodge.

He crouches down and sets his right foot forward, ready to race through the crowd to escape the security guard. But right now, when North is asking for him, and with this freaky guy retrieving him-- that doesn't need to happen.

Sally groans and motions Larry over, shaking his head at the taller guy. "It's just North," Sal reassures. "He wants us for something. I don't know what."

Larry doesn't look convinced, but he walks over to our small group. "So he fucking sent the 'roid mall cop after us? Does he not know me and my history with the justice system?" He scoffs and glances over at the security guard who looks like he's barely holding back some unyielding rage. "I'm with Vi on this one man, I'm totally an anarchist."

"Larry," I hiss, heat enveloping my cheeks as a very real and very concerning tsunami of genuine fear for my life slams into me. Why would he say that in front of the justice system he supposedly has a bad relationship with? And why the hell did he have to rope me into it? "Shut the fuck up. Just go with the 'roid--" I cough, eyes close to flying out of my head because of my mistake. It's not my fault that the nickname stuck, but it's definitely damning. Fucking hell, Larry. "Just go with this nice security guard." I smile, wide and fake as fuck as I look over at said security guard who's hands are fisted at his sides. I grimace and glance back at Sal and Larry who look like deer caught in headlights. "Now," I grit out.

Both boys are clambering after the security guard in seconds. Larry may be a heathen and Sal may be clueless, but at least they were smart enough to read that play.

I heave a sigh of relief as both boys disappear into the crowd. I've never had trouble with police before in my life and I'd really like to keep it that way.

But as I walk forward to meet Ash and Todd, I think of a couple things.

My friends are standing right behind the barrier that separates us from the stage. We're as close as we can possibly get, and even that is way too close for me. Meeting my idols is something I sincerely don't want to do because I'll probably pass out. The thought of embarrassing myself in front of someone so amazing feels like a death sentence, so I'd like to avoid making eye contact with North, South, and/or East.

Maybe I haven't mentioned it before, but all three members of Dark Autumn Complex choose to go by one of the four main cardinal directions on a compass. The only member, or direction, they're missing is West. Whether they're looking for someone to fill the spot or just didn't want a member to be compared to Jade West, I'll never know. But why wouldn't someone want to be compared to Jade West?

To each their own, I suppose.

The point is that I don't know the reasoning behind their names, but the way it goes is: North is the singer and guitarist, East is the bassist, and South is the drummer. That's how it's always been.

I step up next to Ash, wrapping my fingers around the cool, metal barricade. Multiple neon colors flash around us as the crowd grows thicker. And as a result, the little swimming pool at our feet grows thicker too. You know, maybe I wouldn't let Ash buy me new clothes... but I think I'll let her buy me some new shoes after this fiasco. This is quite unique.

Our concert grows closer with each passing second. Ash and Todd meet some fans in the crowd while I hide away, trying to pretend I'm some random woman in a mask. Sally and Larry never return. I'm assuming they'll stay backstage... but then again, I still have some questions I'd like to have answered. And there are quite a few...

Do North, Larry, and Sally know each other? I mean, for the guys to be called backstage, they must be acquainted somehow. But since they are, why hadn't they mentioned that they knew Dark Autumn Complex personally?

Larry said that he could get me backstage, but I thought that was a farce. I still fucking think it's a farce. My spidey senses are tingling and there's something that just doesn't add up.

For example, again, no one mentioned that anyone was friends with Dark Autumn Complex. Another eyebrow raising detail is that Ash and Todd didn't get asked backstage. Why? Do Ash and Todd know about the connection too? Maybe they don't if they haven't brought up the friendship either...

I tap on Ash's shoulder once I notice a group of girls walk away from her. My gorgeous, jade-eyed and strawberry-lipped friend turns to me with a stunning smile gracing her angelic face. She looks down at me, tilting her head in question as she waits patiently for me to say something.

But I narrow my eyes. Everyone's a suspect in my non-murder mystery right now.

"Are Sal, Larry, and DAC friends or something?" I ask, pressing my lips into a thin line.

Ash's brows furrow and that's my first red flag. Why the hell is she doing that?

But then she says, "Didn't they tell you about that? We're all friends with Dark Autumn Complex." Her voice is just as sweet and tender as always. In fact, she seems a little shocked at the fact that I'm new to this information.

"Yea, no. I just thought you were all fans," I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating the friendship confirmation. "Well, why didn't North invite you and Todd backstage?"

Ash shrugs, not too worried about that apparently. "North and Sal are buddies because they both play guitar. North's been waiting for, like, ages to see what talent Sal has. And Larry has some history in music. That's why Sal brings him along for practice-- Lar has really good ears and can tune a guitar to fucking perfection. With all of those similar interests, North, Sal, and Larry naturally got closer than Todd or I were able to." A smile pulls at her lips again. "I'm good friends with East, but I have time to meet him later."

I raise my eyebrows at that last bit of information. After all, Ash answered all my questions so I feel much better. All the gaps are filled in and there are no more red flags.

"Oh?" I say suggestively. "And how close are you, exactly, to East?" My lips stretch into a little smirk when Ash rolls her eyes at my teasing. She's just so easy to offend.

"Not like that, you little slut," she jokes, winking at me.

"Oooouuu," I hum, leaning closer to her with a little grin. "Call me that again."

Poor Ash groans, rolling her eyes yet again as she throws an arm around my shoulders. "Shut up. I can't believe you're so into degradation." Her voice falls into a mumble as I look up at her with a smile, but her next words nearly make me choke. "Sal would love you." She shakes her head and looks down at me. I struggle to slap a stoic expression onto my face after hearing that. I have way too much information. I was hoping my new knowledge would stop after finding out that DAC and The Faces are buddies.

But, then again, my entire body warms at her words. While it's shocking information, it's also very interesting information.

"Anyway," Ash cuts off my thoughts. "It really isn't like that. I am so not into guys. Sometimes I find that one in a million, but, fuck, it's hard. I much prefer women."

I shrug, still reeling over whatever it was she let slip about Sally. I might as well just throw "Sally Face (Sal Fisher) has a degrading kink" into a file cabinet to save for later when I'll actually have the time and desire to mull over that.

"I don't blame you," I decide to tell Ash. "Men really suck sometimes."

Ash scoffs like she's just had an epiphany. "They really fucking do!" she exclaims, throwing her free arm up into the air.

I'm about to yap about the topic a bit more to distract myself when the neon lights over the crowd suddenly shut off. They're all pointing to the stage in front of us now.

When the hell did Dark Autumn Complex walk out here?

All three characters are set up on their respective sides of the stage and I suddenly feel like I'm going to throw up again. They all look so immaculate, so pretty, so mysterious.

My stomach turns with a mix of nervousness and excitement. A group I genuinely look up to is standing less than six feet away from me, doing some last minute checks on their equipment. My head feels fuzzy and I almost keel over with the way my heart repeatedly slams into my ribcage. I've never had this opportunity before in my life. I can't help but imagine if this is how I would have felt meeting The Faces for the first time if we were never friends.

I'm about to take in and observe their dark clothing when a screen lights up behind the band with HELLO written in big bold letters. This is interesting.

All I'm able to see before turning my attention to the screen is the striking, electric blue of North's guitar as the light catches it. Holy hell, that's a nice instrument.

North turns their body to the side, holding out a hand that gestures up to the screen. They glance at the crowd over their shoulder, then look back to the screen.

A booming voice is heard over a speaker and I almost shit myself for a second, the sound so loud that I have to cover my ears. But then, Ash, Todd, and I are all cackling. No fucking way.

"Hello Dark Autumn Complex bitches and cunts! My name is Larry Johnson. You may know me from the online streaming group called The Faces," Larry's stupid ass voice is full of confidence and pride as he snarkily opens up for the band. Wow. I don't even blame DAC for having him do this. If anyone could engage a crowd, it's definitely Larry. "If you'll all kindly turn your attention to the screen, I'm going to walk you through some rules that Dark Autumn Complex has set up for this little concert of theirs." Suddenly, Larry groans. "Ugh. Rules. Fucking boring, right?"

North drops their hand and shakes their head as the crowd starts to giggle. Like I said, Larry is perfect for this kind of job.

The screen changes from HELLO to some other stuff that Larry very sweetly explains with his adorably snarky gamer voice.

"So, first up, if you couldn't tell, no one from the band is going to talk. They want to keep their identity completely concealed, so as a precaution, you will only be hearing their instruments and singing." Larry's a bit more serious. I find myself admiring the way he knows when to be more tactful regarding sensitive or important information. It comes off as very genuine and so sweet. He cares. "They also want to say that they're extremely appreciative of your attendance tonight."

The crowd cheers and I do too. All of the screaming and clapping is infectious, even more so when North bows to the crowd, followed by East who waves at everyone, and finally South who puts a drum stick in the air.

"Next and finally," Larry begins again. "As you can see, there is a microphone in front of North who also, obviously has a mask on." The high self-esteem is reflected in Larry's voice again, an amused lilt in his tone. "The microphone is a fucking prop, you haters. Let that man pretend he's singing into it and not the little tiny microphone taped to his face under the mask, okay? He's a sensitive little guy and absolutely needed to have the prop or else it was going to, in his words, feel weird."

Okay, so North is a guy. Good to know.

North visibly cringes, throwing his arms up in exasperation as he turns back to the screen. I just know he's cursing Larry in his mind. No doubt about it.

Larry cackles a bit scarily before ending his opening segment. "But without further ado, I present to you, Dark Autumn Complex in all their might and glory."

The packed crowd around us cheers. Ash throws an arm around my shoulder and screams at the top of her lungs, so I join her. My eyes never stray from the stage filled with exceptionally hot looking musicians who are looking between each other as the audience quiets down.

They're all in black-- no other colors. Straight black clothing, which makes them all the more appealing. From what I can tell, based on where I am, East, the bassist, is exceptionally tall. But North and South are about average height. Other than that, there's nothing else of note other than their insanely elaborate masks.

It's clear that they have some other kind mask on to hide their hair-- probably black ski masks-- and then another mask on top of that. I can't see them all that well, but even from here the colors are gorgeous and it just feels like they must have been expensive.

North's mask is red, gold, and black. I can see some kind of drawing on part of it, but can't tell what it is exactly. The same goes for the other members-- East who's wearing a primarily black mask with white and gold, and finally South who's sporting dark blue with white and gold. Other than their colors, all three masks match.

We love hot people.

I feel like I'm going to happy vomit everywhere when East starts up a song with this sick riff on his bass. Even better, it's my favorite song by them. The same song, in fact, that made me so upset the other day. Wherein Christine Daaé Became Her Own Phantom.

I sing the lyrics as the rest of the band kicks up the song. It's crazy to see them live and realize they sound just as good in real life as they do in a recording. That's such a flex, considering so many people sound much different when they get out on stage. For their very first concert, they don't seem nervous about it at all and that helps the crowd become more immersed, makes the music so much better.

DAC goes through a few of their songs, some older and some newer, like the song they released about a month ago. I'm all jitters and a fluttering heart during the entire set, finding that my eyes never stray from the amazing band rocking about on the small stage.

They've gone through most of their songs after about forty-five minutes and at this point, I'm assuming that our concert is over. I'm already expecting the worst case of post-concert depression to hit me in a few seconds here, especially when the screen pops on behind all three band members again. And, naturally, this is followed by Larry's voice.

"Alrighty, sluts and whores," he starts happily. I roll my eyes but let a smile envelop my face anyway. "You're in luck tonight. While DAC may be ending this amazing fucking concert soon, they've decided to play a brand new song for you. From what I've heard, they've been working very hard on it. So be grateful, for fuck's sake!"

A new song? Really? Here, out in the middle of Vegas?

"The name of this new song, which also happens to be my favorite so far, is 'Actually Carrie Underwood Doesn't Like Me," Larry giggles a bit over the name. "Another insane title. I'm fucking pumped."

I look over at Ash who looks like she's about to have a brain orgasm. Then I look at Todd who probably couldn't care less, but he has a little light in his dark gaze that says he might be really excited about this.

I glance back up to the stage as my feet go numb. It might be excitement, or it might be from having to slosh around in liquid for nearly two hours. Maybe it could be both. But the point is that a shiver runs through my entire body, electrifying me in a way that's so addicting that I wish there were a way for me to make this concert last forever. It's going to hurt so bad to walk out of here and go back to the hotel later.

My attention and gaze are solely focused on North as he starts the song with a serene little melody on that gorgeous, electric blue guitar.

And almost immediately, before I can even take a moment to appreciate the short guitar solo, everything turns metal as fuck. And I'd go as far as to say that this is the hardest song the band has ever made. Yea, they're a rock band and they put out some really good and heavy hitting stuff, but this is different. This is angry.

"Look at what I've become-- My mother's careful knitting is undone. Sixty stitches and a price never paid, Might as well have sliced me with a blade.

All gaping wounds and pity, Disgust has never looked so pretty. My own disgust or theirs; Or is it just hospital rooms and wheelchairs?"

I officially think I'm with Ash on the mind-jizz bit. This is good. It's deep, it's angry, it's got that hidden meaning that no one will ever understand. It's something that only the writer will only be able to fully comprehend. Even if they would tell someone else what it was about, it'll never compare to everything that goes on inside their head when they think of this song.

"Self-inflicted cuts and scars, Just like the first which left me marred. So sick of the metallic taste Of the way I'm two-faced.

Bursting with hopes and regrets Falling through like fingers in fishnets. Regard myself as something to dispose of-- You think me a disgrace, don't you, my love?"

Leave it to DAC to fuck with my head again. As always.

I nearly crumble to the floor again-- this time with no one to catch me. The second North screams out the word 'fishnets' and grabs onto that prop microphone of his to get into the moment, I feel my heart skip a beat. My head is suddenly filled with memories of Sally weaving his fingers through my own fishnets just yesterday night. It feels silly to immediately remember that scene because of a song, but how couldn't I? The lyrics are literally the same as what happened to me.

And in the long run, that's the entire reason music exists. So it can resonate within those who find their own meaning in the lyrics. So others can create something from a pre-determined scenario. Make it their own.

But hell, I really don't want to think about that asshole while I'm trying to enjoy this new, really amazing song that one of my favorite bands just dropped. Live and in person.

"There's a monster in your bed, In your head, It's me-- Too bad I'm not dead.

Shove my face in a pillow case And curse the human race. Why'd I have to suffer? Why the character development to make me tougher?"

Ash is gripping onto my wrist so tightly that my arm is starting to tingle. She's excited and so am I. What's there not to like about dark lyrics and angry riffs?

We all listen closely, literally everyone on the floor. East is standing in front of South and they watch each other, playing wonderfully and completely invested in the music they're making. Meanwhile, North walks languidly across the stage, ditching the prop microphone and singing into the one that actually works instead. It's a win-win-- he can still sing, but he can focus on playing his guitar rather than fucking around with something that doesn't even work.

I can't help but watch him, my gaze never falling away from North's every movement. His hands expertly playing his flashy guitar, his head tilted down to watch his finger movement, and his black dress shoes taking calculated steps. I've never seen a musician wear dress shoes in the middle of a concert before in my life, but I'm certainly not complaining.

Regardless, it's very interesting.

"Years of therapy couldn't fix me-- No llores por mi. Such a futile attempt at a kill, Was it really worth the thrill?"

No way did this suddenly hot individual just spit out Spanish in the middle of a song. Is he single? If so, I think I'd like to change that. Anyway--

"All I am is rage and revenge-- Every little bit of me is unhinged. I'd say there's nothing to fear, But I'm no Shakespeare.

There's a monster in your bed, In your head, Blood red, Filled with dread. It's me, And you'll wish I was dead."

No. Nope. Absolutely not. I don't have some stupid celebrity crush on a person I've never met because they're openly not shallow and just as torn apart as I am. Not at all. Not a chance.

But the way North shuts his eyes and tilts his head to the ceiling as he sing into the microphone again does something to me. Makes a little corner of my brain light up. Sends shivers through my body. And I really don't like any of it, but what can I do? The heart wants what it wants. It's all shallow feelings anyway. For all I know, North could be the complete opposite of what I want in a person. Not to mention, he's already way out of my league.

"Some things cease, others never end, But my broken brain and diced up heart won't mend. You needn't expect much-- I'll never get too close to touch.

It's over now; Fatal words for your vow. So sick, I don't know how... Never anything more than thou."

I stare up at the stage with stars in my eyes, nearly jumping out of my skin when North makes eye contact with me for just a split second-- then he moves on and most likely makes eye contact with a ton of other fans too. It's nothing special. He's doing what all musicians do and looking out at his fans. Sudden eye contact is nothing rare. Just subtle.

The music calms down, just an eerily slow and melancholic mixture of notes that North and East meld together on their instruments. And then, the next lyrics are whispered. So soft, so terrifying, so angry-- but calm.

"There's a monster in my bed, In my head, Held together by a thread, A fucked path I tread, Memory of where I once bled. It's me. You better fucking hope I'm dead, Before I slaughter the monster I once fled."

I nearly yelp when the LEDs suddenly shut off, leaving everyone in a pitch black room where only the bartenders have lights. And with the sea of people around me, those distant lights are just a speck of dust in this abyss.

But then, music starts playing on the speakers again-- The Misfits, I think-- and the LEDs snap back on. But the entire band is off-stage. They're gone. Disappeared without a fucking trace.

I blink at the empty stage, noting the perturbed sounds of confusion flitting about me from other fans. It sucks that they left so quickly, but at the same time, this adds to the mysterious air that the band carries. I want so badly to find them hiding in the crowd. I want to sneak backstage and get into their room. I want to run off to the bathroom and hope that, by some ridiculous chance, I bump into one of the members.

And more than anything, I'd love to see North again.

I turn to talk to Ash, finding her pretty glossed lips set in a frown. Bet she'd be shocked if I kissed that frown off her right now.

"What's with the disappearing act?" I ask her, watching as she turns to me, that frown of hers morphing into a quizzical look.

"I actually don't know," she murmurs, looking over her shoulder to see Todd talking to someone, probably another fan. "But something about that giant hunk of man heading this way tells me that we might be able to find out," she continues, voice dropping to a seductive little whisper. I look over her shoulder with her, noting that the same intimidating security guard that scooped up Sal and Larry earlier is headed this way.

I grimace. Okay, so yea, I wanted to disappear and find Dark Autumn Complex two seconds ago but if this guy brings us backstage to actually meet them, I'm going to spontaneously combust. I can't meet a famous person. I can't meet someone I look up to like this. I'm going to make a damn fool of myself.

The security guard reaches Ash, Todd, and I. And he sighs. Fucking sighs upon making eye contact with me.

"Do I have to explain why I'm here again?" he asks, nodding over at me with a blonde eyebrow cocked. It's definitely a warning. If I want to test him right now, he's just going to fuck off and maybe throw me out of the function too.

"Nope," I tell him, my voice quiet and reserved. Very close to shaking. Fuck, someone's going to have to drag me back there because I won't be able to willingly walk backstage on my own.

My heart is pumping a thousand miles a second. At least, that's what it feels like when Ash grabs my hand with a beaming smile on her face.

Todd points behind him, saying something I can't hear to the security guard. He sends Ash and I a little wave then literally melts into the crowd.

No. No, did Todd actually just ditch us? Oh my gosh I'd much rather take a swim in this disgusting ocean at my feet.

I don't really have time to contemplate on the situation anymore as Ash gives my arm a yank, dragging me into the sea of people around us.

She and I are led through a bustling crowd, bodies crowding our every shift and turn. Lights flash all around us, Ash's hand grips tightly on mine, and it hurts too much to watch the floor crawl beneath me. It feels like I'm walking on quicksand and the solid, shadowy strangers slamming into every inch of me-- even into parts of me I didn't know I fucking had-- is making me panic.

I tilt my head up, staring at the wooden, planked ceiling above the crowd and the balcony that's left empty for people who pay for VIP seats. Must be nice.

The lights suddenly change color-- going from a normal white to red and, thus, adding an eerie touch to the already terrifying atmosphere.

Finally, Ash yanks me through a doorway, said door slamming closed me with a loud thud-- courtesy of the guard who led us back here.

"Damn," Ash breathes, so I turn to her, noting her flushed cheeks and euphoric expression. "Doesn't that just give you a rush?" she asks, looking down to me with a grin as she momentarily squints her jade irises.

I stare at her blankly. "No," I reply bluntly. "Actually, that freaks me the fuck out," I continue, squeezing my eyes shut. I want to scream. "I want to scream."

"Then do it. Not like anyone out there's gonna hear you," Ash's nonchalant response resonates in my brain and I open my eyes again, looking at her with a flabbergasted expression.

"Are you serious?" I murmur, "I can't do that here, That's social suicide."

"Just do it, Vi!" Ash happily exclaims, trying to convince me with her stare alone. "It's just us right now. Us and these guards and I fucking promise you they've seen worse than two women screaming at absolutely nothing."

I just look at her, waiting for her to say she was only kidding. But she only looks back at me, that ever-present smile on her lips and ecstatic emotions flashing through her viridian eyes.

Fuck it. It's a good way to get rid of nerves and it's just us.

"Okay," I whisper, tilting my head down a bit. "Anxiety scream on three?"

Bold of me to assume that Ash could reach peak excitement.

Ash's smile widens into a grin and I watch her eyes fill with so much excitement that I'm afraid she'll go crazy for a moment. "Anxiety scream on three."

I nod, confirming yet again as I say, "One."

"Two."

I gulp. "Three."

Ash and I both let out the most banshee-like, horror movie-worthy, tortured person screams we can possibly muster up. Not a single person flinches around us, no doubt having expected this based on our conversation. But that makes it ten times better because then it's like there's no one else there in the first place. Just me and Ash.

At some point, I need to breathe and I'm shocked Ash is still going by the time I keel over and cough up half a lung.

It's a mix of laughs and gagging over our sore and dry throats once Ash finally stops her scream. My hands are on my knees, tears in my eyes as I fight for my life to actually take a good, deep breath.

Ash has her face angled toward the ceiling as she coughs out bellowing laughs-- they're cackles, really.

I stand after a moment, pushing a hand under my mask to wipe at my wet cheeks. But then I look past Ash and notice the three people in all black standing off in a corner of the room-- all of them with three matching masks.

I sober up immediately, clearing my throat and straightening my posture. Fuck, when did they walk in?

Shit, I don't know how to react. I feel so embarrassed to have been caught recovering from a vulnerable moment. And hell, maybe they walked in while we were screaming. Fuck, that's even worse. But at the same time, I'm elated to almost nearly be face-to-face with one of my favorite bands. They don't beat Breaking Benjamin, but damn, they're so close.

It feels like falling in love. Especially when North and I's gazes connect.

Butterflies erupt from the depths of my stomach like a volcano overdue for an explosion. My cheeks heat up as I wonder if I look good enough. My hands grow clammy and my fingers begin to shake, and a very specific type of fuzziness in my head accompanies my racing heart.

I don't know what to say. I suddenly would rather walk out of the room and brave thousands of bodies than actually accept this chance to meet one of my favorite bands. I mean, they aren't going to talk to me anyway. They'll probably just watch me as I babble. Yea, it's better to just leave. I'm five feet away from them-- that's close enough to meeting to me. Time to go.

As I take a single step back, all three band members eyes on me, Ash grabs my hand and keeps me rooted in place. I look up to her, fear holding me still before I can ask her to let me go. But she doesn't let me get a chance to speak either.

"Hi, boys!" Ash chirps, waving a hand at the group. "Nice to finally meet you!"

All three are men?

My gaze travels back over to the group. The singer and guitarist, North, dressed in black slacks, black dress shoes, a black turtleneck, and black leather gloves. His mask is red with gold and black accents, the top portion a sheet of music. Very fascinating.

Then there's East, wearing a black mask with white, silver, and gold accents. He's in black jeans, a black Deftones shirt, black converse, and a leather jacket to top off the look. He also has the black leather gloves to match his outfit.

Finally, South has a blue mask with gold and white accents. He's wearing a black sweater, a white collar peaking out of the top. Black jeans, very fancy black boots, and, of course, black leather gloves.

Damn, they are so fucking cool. I really need to know what the gloves are about though. Everyone saw their hands earlier, what's the point?

"Vi," Ash says, forcing me back to the real world and away from ogling. "Say hi."

"Hi," tumbles from my lips like involuntary and unplanned vomit after a night of multiple screwdrivers that were mainly vodka (yep, that explanation is coming from an experience that will never leave my soul).

It's awkward, and even South rears his head back like he smelled three day old sardines. North simply tilts his head a bit. East is stock still. Worse, they're all still looking at me.

I cough, clearing my throat a bit. Okay, so I can't avoid this. Great. We love it here.

My feet move forward as I bite down my anxiety and bashfulness. I walk until I'm just a foot away from the three men and raise a hand in a pathetically awkward wave. "Hi," I murmur. "My name's VioletViolence. If you can't tell, I may or may not be, like, a big fan." I try to add some humor to the situation, but it's weak and it shows. I can hear Ash hiss awkwardly behind me. "Sorry," I decide to tack on, wincing lightly. "I don't know how to do this."

They all continue to stare at me. I'm considering just saying thanks for the eye contact before walking out.

But then North decides to take pity on me and sticks a hand out, his black glove on full display for me. He's so close that I can see the small bit of pale skin that shows-- the bit of skin where his shirt sleeve and glove don't quite meet. I try not to pay too much mind since the entire band prefers to be anonymous and faceless.

I hesitantly grab onto his hand, my heart pounding at a speed that should probably pronounce me as dead by this point.

His hand is warm and envelops mine fully, his fingers gently wrapping around the back of my hand. I can hardly even feel the cool, smooth leather of the glove because his hand is just that warm underneath. It's calming, intoxicating even.

I pull away before he can, offering a hand to both East and South who shake my hand immediately.

Once I shake hands with the three, I stand directly before North again-- the head of the small pack. He watches my every move, but I can't even make out the color of his eyes due to how incredibly concealed he is. It's almost frustrating. I want to know what he looks like.

I don't ponder. It's not my place to wonder who they are. After all, why should I be a hypocrite? I'd shit if anyone figured me out.

"You guys did so awesome," I say, grinning as Ash walks up beside me and envelops East in a big hug, droning on about how she's so excited to finally meet her favorite bassist after talking to him online for so long. Her voice is so insanely obnoxious that I start wondering what her motive is.

I look back to North who nods at me in thanks. But then it goes quiet. What the hell is supposed to happen here? Maybe Ash is good at rambling, but I'm not and I don't want to ramble. Especially when I won't even get a response back.

North glances over my shoulder, then looks over his own shoulder before turning back to me. Is he looking for something?

He pats his pocket, but his hand pauses mid air before he can pull anything out, and he motions over to one of the guards instead, pointing at something on a table full of snacks. The guard walks over and picks up a clipboard for North to see, and the masked man nods in response, using his hand to mimic writing.

Next thing I know, North has a clipboard and a pen in his hands. He looks at the contents of the clipboard-- a back stage guest list with all The Faces names written on it, as well as mine. But he rips the paper off the board and flips it over to the blank back and starts writing.

I listen to the quiet scribbles, trying not to sweat in anticipation and anxiousness.

Finally, after what feels like minutes but was probably only a few seconds, North hands me the clipboard and the pen.

I flip it around to look, my insides twisting about as I nervously glance at the scrawled handwriting. All caps, but small.

'ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ?'

A little smile quirks my lips. How funny. Me and the lead singer of an amazing band having to communicate through a pen and paper. It just feels silly.

"Sal and Larry?" I ask, glancing up at North who nods, then holds a hand up with his pointer finger as a symbol of the number one. I think about that-- one? What does that mean? Hm... "Oh," I voice, thinking I know what he's trying to say. "Another one? Todd?"

North nods again.

I shrug, holding the clipboard between my arm and side as I flip the pen around my fingers. "Honestly, I'm not sure about Sal and Larry. I figured you guys would know. They've been back here since before the show." I frown a bit. Where could they be? "As for Todd," I continue, "he dipped into the crowd. I don't know if he'll be showing up."

North lifts his head in kind of an 'ah' way, like he understands now that I've explained. Then he motions for the clipboard again, so I hand it back along with the pen.

He scribbles again before handing everything back to me. I look down, scrunching my eyebrows at the message.

'ɪ'ᴠᴇ ꜱᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪ���ᴇᴏꜱ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀʟʟʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ ᴄʜᴇᴍɪꜱᴛʀʏ'

Holy fuck, what part of this do I address first? I ask myself this, but the first reaction I have is a raging blush on my cheeks. "You watch my videos?" I squeak out embarrassingly. I haven't even made another video yet and it's been nearly three days now...

North hesitates for a moment before nodding, so I continue. Albeit, I continue with a racing heart and the clammiest hands on this planet. "And you think Sal and I have chemistry?" I can't help but giggle at that. North just shrugs in response.

I smile at him, feeling a bit calmer with this topic as a distraction. "I'd beg to differ, but if that's what it looks like online, I won't complain. I'd rather everyone think we were just... that we just have a weird friendship. I don't want them to know that things are actually just as tough as we make it seem."

Why am I blabbing so much? Imagine if Sal walked in and heard this. He'd peel my scalp from my fucking skull.

North motions for the clipboard yet again so I struggle to get it back to him as quickly as I can. More awkward scribbling, then he holds the clipboard up to me instead of handing it back. I guess he anticipates having to write more.

I lean a bit closer, squinting my eyes to read what's written-- curse my shitty vision and contact prices.

'ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴇɴ, ɪ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏꜱᴇ.'

I suck in a breath. "Well, he's definitely hard to be around. But he hasn't done all that much to make me say I dislike him." I think about it. I mean he's rude to me, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. And either way, I don't have to mention that I borderline hate the guy... "He's aggravating and rude, but I'm starting to get used to that. Maybe that's just how he is." I trail off toward the end because I've seen Sally in other social settings. He really isn't like this with anyone else. It's just me. It's always me.

But then something more important resonates in my mind. I'm literally telling Sal Fisher's friend about how awful of a person he is.

My eyes widen and I look up, noting North's stoic eyes that hide any and all emotion he could be feeling. I start to panic, waving my hands at my sides as my mouth works silently, trying to find words to say. My stomach churns and I struggle to hold down all the fear that wants to break through my skin.

"Ah, fuck. I'm sorry," I say shakily, bringing my hands in front of me to crack my knuckles. "I don't mean to bad mouth your friend. He really isn't all that bad, I just..." I trail off and shake my head. "I'm just making this so much worse."

I hear what sounds like a muffled snort come from North. The sound makes my insides go still while I wait for his response that's currently being written.

He holds the clipboard up to me, settling into a very nonchalant stance.

"ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴏᴋᴀʏ. ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴅɪᴄᴋ."

My mouth gapes, but then I look into his slightly squinted eyes and can't help but grin. Well, at least we agree somewhere and he isn't angry with me. That helps a lot.

Suddenly, the little connection between us is interrupted. A woman walks into the room and she motions over to Dark Autumn Complex with the most outlandish expression I've seen all day.

"What the hell are you three doing?" she asks, voice falling off into a scoff. "I told you we have shit to cover. You can come hang out with everyone later. Can't any of you listen?"

My eyes widen as I watch the band members all glance to each other. That's one scary manager-- if she is their manager.

North looks back to me, gives me a quick wave, then walks off with the other two members. And they disappear as quickly as they came. I almost feel like the interaction never even happened.

Ash and I shrug at each other, then have a fuck it moment and pick through the snack table.

For a full two uninterrupted minutes, I sit there, snack on chocolate-covered strawberries, and ponder whatever the hell just happened. I think about my own feelings as well.

North was ridiculously nice, especially compared to some of the people I've met before (*cough* Sal Fisher *cough*). He was easy to talk to, even with our speech barrier. We still found a way to communicate, and I'm glad we did. I enjoyed getting to converse with him, however short the moment may have been. Do I have more of a viable reason to crush on him? Yea, absolutely. maybe he isn't as out of my league as I thought. He knows who I am. He watches my videos. And he's nice? That's, like, twenty extra points in my book.

I won't get too ahead of myself though, not when there's this stupid thing going on with Sally. I really need to figure that out first.

And like I specifically said-- I had just two minutes of silence. And after those two minutes are up, the giant metal door that Ash and I walked through a few minutes ago swings open and bounces off of the cement wall beside it.

Lo and behold, in walks Larry and Sal. They're both out of breath, carrying at least four bags in both their hands. Larry's face is red, though he still has that signature grin. Sal's neck is covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

And suddenly, a thread of an idea begins to weave itself through my mind. The thread quickly turns into a full, fleshed out, and calculatingly mapped theory that I'm almost 75% sure about.

And it scares me. Deeply.

Fishnets. Masks. Height. No talking. The sudden disappearance. Sal and Larry's perfectly timed arrival.

I watch the boys with terror in my eyes. I track every step they take toward the snack table. My gaze follows each little treat that they lay out. My ears zone in on their mumbled story about missing the new DAC song to pick up some of their favorite snacks.

But I don't believe any of it. Not a word.

Because I wholeheartedly think that Sally Face and Larry Johnson are two of three members of Dark Autumn Complex.

There are too many coincidences. Honestly the timing of Sal and Larry walking in and the lyrics about fishnets are what set me off the most. There's no way someone can nail an event so closely without having experienced it. And there's just no way Sal and Larry can walk in here like it's nothing after having enough time to quickly change their clothes and grab some random bags of snacks on their run back over here.

It's genius, but it fills me up with dread all the same. No fucking way. I keep getting shocked, but each time, the discovery is so much worse.

Larry randomly boasts about in front of me, wiggling his eyebrows as he skips up to me with that sexy smirk. It has no affect on me right now though. I'm contemplating, I'm theorizing, and I'm genuinely horrified.

He grabs my hands and brings me a little closer to him. I swallow thickly, watching him and waiting. Ideas are running through my head, driving me up the fucking wall. I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm right on the cusp of confirming this unfortunate discovery.

I refuse to have a crush on Sal Fisher.

"Quiero comerte viva," Larry suddenly drawls, pulling my attention away from my desperation for a second. I don't know what he said, but it was random enough to confuse me. But, I at least know the language.

"You speak Spanish?" I decide to ask him, clearing my oddly hoarse voice.

He chuckles, winking at me. "No, but I am an intellectual in the art of romance. I know how to woo the ladies."

I pinch my lips together and give him a pitiful look. "It's not a very good wooing if no one even knows what you're saying."

Larry frowns at me, seemingly thinking about that. But before he or I can say anything more, Sally walks past us and toward Ash. And he says, "It means, 'I want to eat you alive.'"

I choke on air, struggling to take a breath in. Sal just said that to my face and it was hot as fuck. Not to mention, Larry said that to me in another language. That's really hot too.

My head snaps to Larry who looks impressed. "Oh," he says thoughtfully, tilting his head. "So that's what it means."

And now I have to think about how ridiculous Larry is. About why and how Sally just happened to know what that Spanish phrase translated to. And on top of that-- their hidden identities as member of DAC.

But the doors that I believe they disappeared into just a couple minutes ago reopens, and a fresh wave of utter confusion and shock rocks my body all over again.

North, East, and South walk back out, facing us. But they also come face-to-face with Larry and Sal, which means... I was wrong. And I don't know if I'm disappointed or extremely fucking relieved.

Sal, Larry, and Ash talk animatedly to Dark Autumn Complex who simply listens to them without answering. All the while, I stand behind, watching.

Maybe I assumed that Sal and Larry were part of the band because I was desperate to find someone like me. Searching for someone, anyone who was hiding behind another identity. Hoping I wasn't the only selfish person with more than one name. Because I feel guilty about it.

I know I feel guilty-- deep down, I genuinely feel bad for lying to Larry and Todd. Even Sal. He may be a dick, but he and Lexi seemed to really connect. And I didn't have the guts to even tell him who I really am. I still don't.

And so I thought I discovered something in this fucked up situation that I created. Discovered something that never existed in the first place.

_____

A/N::::: hi babies :3 sorry it's been so long, but if it helps any, i have a lot planned! as always though, of course.

I present to you another ryver original *screams* but i've been super excited about this chapter. i'm even more excited about the next though!!! eeeekkkk!

i have chapter thirteen completely written up and fleshed out, i just have to go in and fix a few things and give it a proof read. 'cause i mean, 10,000 words worth of smut is a bit of an overkill right? ;)

For now, here's Dark Autumn Complex's masks.

North's mask ^^^ (fyi, his outfit is inspired by Noah Sebastian. Look him up and see him in a turtle neck. it'll change your life😫)

East's mask ^^^^

South's mask ^^^^

i'll be posting the next chapter in a couple days so i can give myself some time to catch up with you guys. until then, happy days and sweet nights. i love you all endlessly <333

[real-total-drama-takes]

Hello Mod Courtney! there's some speculation over at td takes takes about this blog and no one has just asked you directly so I thought I'd take the intiative.

You and td takes 2 did not have any intentional beef with each other, right? Cause to me it seems like there was one night of confusing reactions (and a lot of nonsensical poetry) and then you and TD takes 2 did your own things while occasionally interacting in a friendly manner.

People are going back and forth on who was morally "right" or "wrong" in that situation but I don't think it's worth fighting over because you don't seem to hold any malice or hatred for td takes 2.

Hope you are doing well!

Hi! Thanks for letting me know about everything that’s going on at td takes 3. Let me clear some things up.

After original td-takes became inactive, I had just assumed there wasn’t another one. I was vaguely aware of td-takes 2 existing, but I had assumed it was mainly a shitpost blog. I don’t know any of the mods, I have no idea who they are. All I wanted was for another blog akin to td-takes original where people could send their opinions without any commentary. Almost immediately after I made my blog, td-takes 2 changed their url to total-ramona-takes or something, which really threw me off. I was basically like—did I just imagine td-takes 2 existing? It kind of felt like a fever dream. All the Austin powers shit and the fujoshi stuff just didn’t make sense to me.

I know the general response is “how could you not know? They post in #total drama all the time!” And the simple answer to that is… I don’t really check the total drama tag or any tags relating to it. The total drama fandom is a little… weird, to say the least. And I think that’s generally a common consensus among the fandom.

After I made this blog, one of the mods at td-takes 2 had a mental breakdown (I can only imagine it had very little to do with me and more to do with outside circumstances) and I got a ton of asks telling me to kill myself because I caused that mod to spiral. Or telling me that I was a bad person because… why? Because I made a total drama takes blog? Lmao. I said this way back in the day, but it’s worth repeating. There can be two blogs dedicated to the same thing. Regardless of my opinion on td-takes 2, it wasn’t the same vibe as the original td-takes. I think we can all agree on that. This is where all of my feelings regarding td-takes 2 comes from, and I don’t believe it is the fault of any of the mods.

I never intended to sound pretentious by calling this blog real-total-drama-takes. I picked that because I had assumed td-takes 2 was like. Just a shitpost blog. Like not even total drama related. I don’t know. I just wanted to make it clear that I was carrying over the spirit of the original td-takes. So I said REAL-total-drama-takes for clarity’s sake. I do wish some of the mods at td-takes 2 had addressed the harassment I was getting in a way that wasn’t just “hey don’t do that” and more like “this person is doing something totally different, it’s okay for both of us to co-exist.” Honestly though, I don’t really care. I’m not angry nor have I ever been angry at td-takes 2 or any of the mods.

And honestly, it doesn’t matter now, does it? They’re gone, and I’m here.

[dinosaurchurch]

2023 has come and gone. We're done and spite the insanity that ensued over the course of the last twelve months I feel like I'm going to miss it. What it provided for me was definitely a sense of clarity, there was a lot of things that really put it into perspective of where I am and where I'm going to go with my life.

It's been a whirlwind of emotions having every little bit of the rose coloured vision of the people and places I care about being wiped away. I feel like it was when I really became an adult, leaving my twenties behind was almost symbolic in a sense. There was a point where this felt so far away and yet here I am.

After the past three years and the strange fever dream that was the pandemic it was relieving to head into last year. I had enough mental fortitude to handle what I had to weather over 2023, that was the biggest thing I think I had going for me. I wasn't going to let anything stress me out to the point of panic attacks like 2022 or the year before.

I may not have done everything I wanted to and there's definitely things that took a back seat but all in all I'm okay with how last year unfolded, the good and the bad. I much rather know the truth then not. Having to say goodbye to people or simply leaving when I know I'm not needed or wanted in a space for the sake of my own mental health are things that I've had to do. Burning down the bridge entirely with some folks and being aware that I'm never going to able to please everyone is something that I've gotten comfortable with. Having to entirely let go of all the little things that I had gotten hung up over the pandemic.

I've become more grounded mentally over the past year. At the end of the day as long as I'm still breathing I know I'll be alright. The people that have stuck it out with me on this journey have been nothing but a gift - an absolute blessing - and I'm thankful for each and every one of them.

Giving myself enough space to breathe and having to know when to lay off the gas peddle is equally important as knowing when to fully lean in and just go with the flow. I think giving myself some leeway and letting myself experience my emotions with enough time to process them has been one of the biggest things I've worked on in recent times. I kind of had to, I didn't really get a solid break over 2023 - it's been one thing right after the other. Honestly the biggest thing that did take a back seat was my lifting, spite that I still managed to get stronger so go figure. Rest is important.

Guess looking forward now to 2024 I've got to ask myself what goals am I setting? I'm not entirely sure to be honest, I accomplished a lot more during 2023 than I expected to. I finished DIVE (and now I'm doing a prequel arc lmao), I did a lot of drawing, and I even got to play some of the games I really wanted to (I'm currently chomping through Jedi Survivor which is fantastic!). If anything I've been very productive.

It’s bittersweet to see another trip around the sun come to an end. I suppose for now I’ll just get back on track with what I normally do and probably continue to give myself the much needed TLC I should have from time to time.

Either way, onwards and upwards! Goodbye and good night to 2023. Thank you for the adventure once again.

Hello 2024!

Happy New Year!

[sunsblaze]

I am fine.

A lie. Yoriichi knew well that his brother had pushed himself too hard for his sake, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the sight. If only he hadn’t gotten sick then Michikatsu wouldn’t have had to over work his tiny body like this. He didn’t need his sight into the Transparent World to know that the other had put a terrible strain on his muscles- one that would likely leave him sore for days.

“Shh, just let me be of use for once,” his voice was small and hoarse, but it had a small tinge of worry laced through it. Worry that Michikatsu might fall ill from his own illness combined with the fact he had barely slept and pushed his physical limits as well. While it was true he himself was still in no shape to be lugging his elder brother around, he had managed to get some rest while being carried and he would repay that kindness by giving his brother a decent place to sleep.

No words were needed, he knewn his twin loved him in his own way, if he didn’t Yoriichi would likely be laying out somewhere in the cold just waiting to succumb to his illness or worse. He simly offered a faint smile as he would lay and watch Michi, he watched the elder’s heart as it beat in his chest, watched his lungs expand and contract with each breath- both signs they were there and that they were alive. Over the next hour he would slowly drift off to sleep as well, one of his little hands reaching out to cling to the other’s sleeve as if his life depended on it.

It would be late into the next morning when his fever finally started to break, he would sweat through his clothes and shiver until he finally began stirring awake.

Yoriichi took a deep breath and some sort of clarity washed over him, he didn’t feel completely better, but it was leaps and bounds from how he felt just the day before- he barely remembered a think past gathering their belongings.

He had crossed the limits.

Going beyond them as he managed to get Yoriichi to the inside of the estate, even by dragging him right at the end to make it possible, as his legs were killing him, his arms felt like they were barely even attached to him for the time being, but through it all he had one thing on his mind and one thing only, he had to get Yoriichi to safety, he had to get him inside to ensure that he would be well.

That he had walls around him, a roof, that the coldness of outside, the falling rain, everything would not be an issue, make no mistake about it, there are still a thousand other issues to be dealt with, but this one right here was his main concern, to get Yoriichi inside, even if it killed him, which it almost did as he dragged Yoriichi within and would fall down and breath out.

“I am fine …”

He managed to say as he lay there, hazed eyes watching as Yoriichi would take the medicine, another problem dealt with, but it would be time for it to work and for Yoriichi to start to feel a little bit better then. “Ugh, just leave me.” He said, where he was on the floor on his side, Yoriichi needed to rest for himself and here he was, picking him up and carrying him as well into the next room and setting everything up then for them both as he sighed.

“...”

He didn’t know how to respond. He just nodded his head and lay there, head now on a pillow, a blanket as well, for warmth, and that was really it, he had no more strength within himself, he had nothing more to give and nothing more to offer as well, he had reached his complete and utter limit here and now, and would want for rest and nothing more than that as he breathed out, eyes heavy, closing as he would get some sleep and hopefully, he and Yoriichi both.

Would feel better come the morrow.

[kyberphilosopher]

Oʀᴏᴛᴜɴᴅ

Requested?: Yes. Contains allusions to sex and illness, non graphic.

Word Count: 3301

Eren has disappeared beyond the walls, finding refuge with a sick ex-soldier. 

Orotund: (adj.*) speaking or singing with fullness, clarity, or strength of song or voice. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*. 

 The sickness had spread slowly, but surely. 

You couldn’t tell where you had gotten it from. At first, you had assumed it was simply an intensified version of the flu. However, the longer you took care of yourself, the more you realized that this was far worse. 

Dividing the time into five stages, you began keeping note of what was happening to you during Stage Two. During Stage One, you began to experience relatively short periods of a fever. They’d usually last for days at a time, with you lying in bed draping a wet rag on your forehead. So intense, you could not even get up to urinate or eat, it was difficult not to feel pathetic. 

Stage Two had made the fever die down. You were more than thankful for this, of course, but it had come with it’s own crashing, crushing waves. Stage Two had begun to make you lose weight at a rapid and inexplicable pace. You often frowned at yourself in the mirror, observing how your torso was slimming and shaping around the form of your ribs. It came before the loss of appetite, which only made matters that much worse. 

Stage Three, during which you had met him, was strange. It didn’t directly cause any physical changes to you, but it did indirectly. You grew restless in the night, and exhausted during the day. Riddled with fatigue, the daily chores you relied on for life became troublesome. Drawing water from the well strained your back, and because of what Stage Two had done to your stomach, you lacked the energy needed to keep yourself upright. 

One day, in whatever season it had been, you returned to your cabin to find a stranger inside. Instantly on sight, your pail of drinking water fell from your fingers and splashed against the wooden floors. Your boots and socks were soaked. The knocking of wood against wood made your ears ring as if a bomb had gone off. 

The boy was still, but his eyes were somewhat wide as if he was also surprised. He must not have considered someone was already living in the cabin. Yet, he was sitting at your dining table, watching you with open eyes and open ears. 

Before you could scold, yelp, or simply say hello, you collapse over. The fatigue overpowers you and you crash against your counter in a heap. 

The boy leapt forward on instinct. His right arm wrapped around your back to steady you somewhat, his left hand gripping onto your other shoulder. It didn’t help you too much, as your ankle was already rolling out from under you, but it did keep you from hitting the floor completely. Thus, the boy had at least saved you a head injury. 

“My room,” you croaked with hazy eyes. The hand attached to the arm over his back weakly pointed in the direction of your bedroom. It wasn’t too far away.  You were lucky that he craned his head to see where you were gesturing to, and understood. “I have to get to... my room...”

“Right,” the boy replied.

He hoisted you up, the both of you grunt quietly in unison. And then he practically dragged you across the floorplan of your home, stumbling and groaning all the way. The boy let you drop into your bed on your own, partially kicking him in the process. 

You hum out a sigh of relief. Your head is immediately alleviating itself, and the room is ceasing to spin so quickly. The boy is confused as to the lack of yelling or anger. Instead, he is enthralled with the calm, tired, demeanor of your form. He’d broken into your cabin, eaten your food, and you hadn’t even looked mad. In fact, you looked almost sickly. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Stage Four brought depression. Yes, you already had that. But now your sickness was piling onto the chemical imbalances, adding to the lack of calories, nutrients, and sleep. Whatever strength you had before was dwindling away faster than before, although this time, things were different. 

The strangers name was Eren. Eren Jaeger. He had large, piercing teal eyes, bold eyebrows, and dark hair. At the time of your meeting, it was the length of his shoulders. His palms were wrapped in gauze at the time, but it wasn’t permanent. He’d since removed them, and helped you work. 

Eren was strong. He could repair things that were broken around the cabin and help you with the well upkeep. Sometimes he would go hunting and bring home venison or herbs for you, which was kind. He didn’t ask for much in return, other than you not tell anyone of his presence. Not like you had anyone to tell anyways. 

Eren gave you a ride on his Titan once or twice too. That was something you loved. You were scared at first, but Eren didn’t let anything happen to you. He would lift you up in the palm of his hand so you could reach the fruits at the top of the tallest of trees. Then you’d go home and slice the fruit up for him in a small bowl. 

He slept on the bench in the living room. You’d felt particularly guilty about that part, but your weak body needed all the relaxation it could get. Eren knew that, and he never forced you to share or give more than was even remotely necessary. Really, Eren was quiet most days. He seemed to do a great bit of brooding, but you’d grown accustomed to the presence of another human being, and thus, warmth. And Eren liked you. You weren’t obsessive, didn’t yell for the way he cleaned, didn’t rip up his clothes, or remind him of a fading dream. 

Time blurs together when you’re living on your own in the middle of nowhere, but the boy was with you for more than two months, at least. He figured out that you were sick in that span of time, including that you didn’t deserve to be. There wasn’t much around your cabin to suggest much of past life. Eren didn’t blame you. That’s why he stayed in the cabin as well- hoping to leave the past for a blank space. 

You took care of each other. Your favorite example was on a morning in Spring. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Eren wore a simple brown cloak. No shirt underneath, giving you a much appreciated view of the boys abdominal muscles. Though, you’d probably never get the opportunity to admit you found the boy physically appealing, you took it in. His hair was back in a bun today. The sun broke over the horizon, illuminating his eyes. 

Jaeger held your horse by the reigns. His right bare foot was rubbing against his left shin, tired as the horse began to excrete last nights meal. Eren must’ve gotten up earlier than usual this morning for chores, because the circles under his eyes seemed more prominent. Not that it specifically mattered. He looked handsome all the same. You appreciated the view for a few minutes before starting towards the well. 

First, you set the bucket on the earth where the water is sure to fall. Then, you place both hands on the pump, digging your feet into the ground for leverage. Stage Four has made you weaker than most people. This will take a lot out of you. 

Pushing down, it takes all of your strength to get a single pump of water into the pail. It’s not enough, and sweat is already beading at your forehead. It’s not even hot yet, and something mediocre is nearing you close to death. Your heart strains against your chest, but you ignore it. You have to get the water. 

You push down a second time. Now, the container is half full of the clear stuff. It ripples in the light of the sun like a rainbow. Your head feels like it’s on fire. A slow, dull fire. You have to push a third...

With a final great heave, your blistered hands scrape against the contraption. The water gushes out like a miracle, filling the bucket again. So crisp it makes your mouth water, you kneel to the ground to catch your breath. 

Stop, your heart begs. Stop. Rest. But the responsibility is staring you dead in the eyes, and you can’t ignore it. And you can’t ask Eren to go a day without water. He deserves it. For Eren’s sake, you must do this. 

Although your world is dizzy, you push yourself to your feet. Your blistered fingers wrap around the handle, ready to pick it off the ground without issue. However, water buckets are heavy. There is nothing you can do but struggle to raise it off the ground, tears and sweat pricking at the corners of your eyes and goosebumps appearing at your arms. It’s not even really that chilly. 

Eren was like a God sent. You didn’t fully hear what he said to you, but you felt his arms slide around you to lift you up. “Y/N, do you hear me? You have to stand, alright?” You hadn’t replied. 

Jaeger connected the dots. With one half of his body, he leveraged you up and to your feet. With the other, he grabbed the pail of water and began moving forward. 

It was slow with you practically slumped against him, but he was a soldier. Eren wasn’t about to just let you drop in the middle of nowhere. He wouldn’t let you succumb to your illness that easily, if he let you succumb to anything at all. 

Eren set you on your bed. You had a fever, so he laid a wet cloth across your forehead. He stripped you down to your undergarments as respectfully as one could, laying two more rags on your forearms for extra help. Then he drew you  a bath, knowing the water would be cold for your lingering fever. He never asked for anything in return. 

But, he had set a hand against your shoulder. His thumb ran in soft circles against your hot skin, a comforting, loving gesture. You could feel his long hair brush against your chest as he leaned down to make sure your heart was still beating. Aside from a slight palpitation, it seemed in working order. 

His brushing thumb lingered a moment longer before he let you rest. Even in sleep, you missed it. You wouldn’t forget this. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This leads us into the final Stage. Stage 5. The one where you die at the end. 

“Eren,” you call out softly, watching the curtain windows sheer in the sunlight. 

In response, the boy bows his head to look down at you. His eyes are calm, but bright as always. His hair is half up, half down. Laying between his thighs comfortably, your stomach rumbles from hunger. Despite this, things are quiet. 

“Yes?” he replies.

You swallow dryly. Then you reveal your desire. “Do you sing?”

His right hand comes to rest on your forehead. Yes, you have the fever again. But Eren knows you are in the right mind. His thumb strokes your temple, catching a few wisps of your hair as he does so. 

“Not well,” he answers with the ghost of a smile. “You want me to sing to you?”

You shift, and one of your hand grazes by his knee. “Maybe,” you tease back. Then you frown. “You seem tired today.”

Eren exhales. His right hand lays against your forehead, a mix of concern and something like affection.

“Is it the Attack Titan?” you continue, gazing up at him through soft lashes. 

It was. Eren’s history- the worlds history- was churning around his mind until it seemed like a bunch of mush. You were the only thing that was clear to him at this point. But you were silent. Calm, compared to everything else in the universe. 

“No,” Eren decides to assure light heartedly. His thumb begins to circle around your sticky skin in the little way that it does. “It’s nothing.”

Silence again. 

The warm breeze brushes against the window outside, but it’s not loud. It’s warm from the light of the sun, and the hills of emerald grass span for miles ahead. The sky is as blue as the birds that soar across it. Serene. That was how you would describe the life you currently lead. And blessed be you for leading it as peacefully and quietly as the loud and complicated world would allow. 

“I think I’m going to die soon.”

The quiet was broken with another fracture of quiet. Eren’s heart gave a great, vibrating beat, and then paused. In contrast, you couldn’t recall the last time you’d heard your heart beat. 

All the violent death he’d seen, just for you to die of an unknown illness? 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You knew you were going to die at the end. You knew it for a fact. You’d just gotten lucky. 

Lucky, you think as you look up at the man above you. Yeah, I’m lucky. 

His pacing is held back for fear of hurting you. His long, dark hair sways back and forth in time with his thrusts. His face is contorted, mixed with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure and determination. There’s a little clear, slick spot on the corner of his lips. It slips from between, drips down his chin, and onto your abdomen. Eren wants to apologize, but his teeth are gritted together and he doesn’t want to embarrass either of you with shaky words. 

You don’t mind. There’s no need for Eren to apologize. Eren is and always has been a sight for sore eyes, especially for you. And, blessings onto your own soul, you’re getting more butterflies from knowing he’s one of the last things you’ll see and feel than what he’s doing with you. 

Your eyes are glued to his. What color are they? Emerald, like the grass? Blue, like the sky? Could they be teal? Yes, that must be it. Though, sometimes you swear they’re gold instead. 

Lucky. 

You both end up finishing. He keeps himself from collapsing on top of you before asking if you’ll be alright if he bathes. You assure him it’s more than okay as he rubs his thumb over your temple. Some people might be upset at their partner for leaving after what you’ve done, but you understood. Physical contact is hard for soldiers. You know. But Eren promises he’ll be back silently, because he feels guilty about it. 

If you had a bit longer, maybe this wouldn’t be the only time you and the boy could do this. Actually, what had even led to it? What had taken it this long? You’d had dinner. The light from the candles came on, and you’d met his gaze. The rest was all steam and blurs. 

When your living mate returns, your back is facing from him. You’re watching the fresh drops of rain crash against the window, falling from under a dark grey cast. There will be a thunderstorm tonight. You wonder if Eren will want to stay in your bed tonight, or if he’ll insist on taking the bench. 

You feel his hands, previously burning hot, touch your shoulder, now ice cold. The mattress dips under his weight behind you, and then you feel his toned torso flush against you. 

His face brushes against your ear so you can hear him speak softly. “I’m sorry if I took too long,” Eren mutters. A few wisps of hair brush against your jaw, but he’s tied it back now. 

In one fluid motion, a hand of your own comes to stroke at his cheek. “You didn’t.”

His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, before he pulls away to put his face in the back of your neck. His hand remains around you tight, so you know he wants you right where you are. 

You didn’t tell Eren that your time was practically numbered. Maybe it would be weeks, days, or hours. You should’ve told him before you let him inside you, but you’d been a bit distracted. Anxious, too. The moment was worth ruining with something so silly and small. But now it’s done. The only sounds echoing around the cabin is the pitter pattering of the rain, and the oncoming onslaught of booming thunder. 

You have to tell him, you say to yourself as his grip on you tightens. Before he tugs your body closer like a lover again.

Before you can speak, Eren mumbles something against the skin of your neck. “Follow my lead.”

What?

He hums for a few seconds. At first, you think it’s just the hum of insanity, random and undefined. The you realize the changes in pitch are too thought out to be random. It’s a song. 

“...always picking a fight with me...”

It feels hazy, far away. Sort of heavenly. Even with his low, muffled voice, it’s easy to hear the musical tones oozing from the whole thing. 

“...you know I’m bad, but you’re still spending the night with me.”

That line feels more like he’s speaking it into you. It’s personal. 

“...what do you want from my world?”

If you had it your way, or his way, there wouldn’t be anybody else but the two of you and your cabin. Still, this also feels like a genuine question. Maybe it is. 

There’s a dry kiss placed against your shoulder blade before Eren continues the tune. Humming. And then, “...every night I’m out... killin’, send everyone runnin'...”

Eren pulls you closer against him and inhales somewhat sharply. You crane your neck deeper into the pillow, silently wishing that you could feel his swollen lips against it.

  “I know you’re mad at me,” he sings, a bit clearer now. “I have demon eyes.”

Eren’s hand creeps up from your shoulder to your throat, able to choke you if he so wanted. His thumb strokes over your Adam’s apple instead. Eren grants your wish, raising his face so his lips brush over the skin by your jaw instead of the back of your head. A soft kiss is pressed to the area, almost as if he was nervous. 

“...they’re looking right through your anatomy...”, he seems to nuzzle against you lightly, though that feels somewhat out of character. “...your deepest fears, I’m not from here...”

Like before, he pushes his head back into your hair. He groans like he’s stretching before going on. 

“...to me, you’re clear... transparent. You have a thing for me... it’s apparent...”

The rain is falling harder now. 

“...you’re not so bad...”

Eren isn’t bad at all. He sighs against you, his fingers stroking your skin gently. 

“...it’s not something I have to try... oh, for the table, as long as I am able... I’m not trying to be bad.”

I’m going to die soon, Eren.

“No... different.”

He doesn’t continue. Only his thumb continues on, circling round and round in an unknowing attempt to express comfort.

“I thought you said you didn’t sing well,” you whisper into the darkness. 

“I don’t,” he speaks against you.

What a liar. And you, the lucky one for knowing the truth.

Eren doesn’t move positions until you’ve fallen asleep, at which point he eventually turns his back to you in his own slumber. And Eren knew that you were sick, but he also knew that you were capable. 

You weren’t breathing when he woke up. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I guess that’s that. I think I like it but I’m not sure about the ending. Mine aren’t usually so simple. Maybe I should’ve made it less depressing. Eh. 

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier (and Lambden) H2O: Just Add Water AU of my dreams (bc Mermay is almost over and I haven’t done a thing for it and putting Geraskier into my favourite teenage shows is too much fun; this got long and messy):

-Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert grew up on the coast of Australia on an estate that is very big and private with its own sectioned-off part of the beach; among all their surfer kid school friends they are definitely the outcasts; they keep to themselves a lot and everyone thinks it’s because of their overprotective father who keeps them from throwing the best parties and also doesn't want them to go out into the ocean or have swimming lessons

-Vesemir is overprotective, but not for the reason everyone thinks; whenever he and/or his boys come into contact with water, they turn into mer-boys, complete with shimmering golden tails; he hoped this genetic oddity would pass them by, but it didn’t and so he taught them to be very careful for fear of them getting hurt

-they all cope with this in different manners: Geralt and Eskel mostly use their ability to do good; they protect little turtles from falling prey to predators, they collect trash from the bottom of the ocean; they also wrestle in the water a lot; Lambert tries to forget this is a thing and stays as far away form any body of water as he can; he spends most of his time secluded in his room, listening to edgy grunge music; sometimes his brothers can lure him out for a round of waterball in their private pool

-Jaskier is one of the popular kids one grade below Geralt (together with Lambert). He always gets the lead role in theatre, he has dozens of friends and a cool band and his outfits are outrageously fashionable; he vlogs a lot, he vlogs so much that anyone who has half a mind to get invested in his life will know everything from his morning routine to the night cream he uses; his favourite cafeteria lunch, the name of his teddy bear and his least favourite cousin

-Jaskier is also determined to befriend Geralt and his bros; he grew up in the same street as them and ever since he discovered Instagram, he’s been dying to take some shots in that house; he’s been over once, when Vesemir made the mistake of inviting a few kids Lambert’s age to his birthday party which ended up in a cake-throwing disaster; little Jaskier thought it was a great idea to tow the garden hose in and clean everything which ruined Vesemir’s favourite rug and had Geralt turn into a mer-boy on the spot; needless to say, Jaskier attributes this memory to a fever dream

-So, Jaskier starts following Geralt and Eskel around (he knows he’ll have no luck with Lambert) and they brush him off every opportunity they get

-What Jaskier doesn’t realize is that Geralt is hardcore in love with him, like so much so that his poor teenage mind cannot stop producing hormones on overload; he spends a lot of time out in the depths to distract himself from this

-What Jaskier also doesn’t realize is that he is falling for Geralt; it’s only for the sake of the 'gram, he tells himself, and because his followers seem to love the chunky mysterious senior with his strangely white hair

-Jaskier’s followers figure it out, the whole school figures it out, Lambert and Eskel figure it out (Geralt lets the guy sit at their lunch table, of course they’re in love) and eventually, even Geralt figures it out. Only Jaskier doesn’t and Geralt has a big-ass secret to keep anyway

-and so, to get rid of his pent-up frustration, he dives deeper and deeper; Eskel starts to worry, Vesemir says it’s just a phase, Lambert plainly doesn’t care

-Speaking of: Aiden is the snarky rich kid / bully that spends way too much time obsessing over uncovering their secret (bc he thinks he’s smart and always thought something about Vesemir was weird and he doesn’t like how they make such a fuss over their privacy). when he invities the three to one of his pool parties, he tries everything to make them reveal what they have going on, but Geralt doesn’t even show and Eskel keeps disappearing to play with Aiden’s dog and so Aiden is stuck with Lambert whom he definitely has a crush on, but won’t ever admit it. they’re enemies, okay? there’s a lot of tension and they end up drunkenly making out behind garden shed, something they both regret in the morning; Lambert doesn’t leave his room for a week straight and feigns a flu so he doesn’t have to meet Aiden at school; Aiden and Jaskier are friends ofc

-one day at school Geralt and Jaskier hang out on the lunch break alone because Eskel’s on a zoo trip with his class and Lambert is avoiding Aiden so he spends all his time holed up beneath the seats of the football field writing angry poems; Jaskier’s forgotten to charge his camera battery so it’s just them, stealing fries off each other’s plates, actually talking for once and Geralt’s sweating because Jaskier sits so close their knees bump and he looks ridiculously cute in his pastel dungarees and there’s this spot of ketchup on his nose that Geralt’s just itching to reach out and wipe away

-Jaskier isn’t all that hungry and he watches Geralt devour a third slice of pizza when he remembers his stupid childhood fever dream; he tells Geralt all about it, the cake fight, the ensuing mess and how he distinctly remembers Geralt growing a fish-tail and flopping around on the living room floor while Vesemir was screaming at them all to get out. “Funny, isn’t it? What your brain can make up?”; Geralt turns chalk-white and splutters a fake laugh

-he isn’t at school the next day and neither are Eskel or Lambert

-nor the next

-they are all a bit afraid, cautious and they just need to spend a few days, just the four of them, throwing themselves into the waves and being free of the shackles of their secrets; they chase each other around, they play some water ball and Vesemir makes them hot cocoa and rubs them dry the way he used to when they were younger and still unable to handle their transformation well

-as he does this, Vesemir thinks about moving somewhere more secure where there are less people, but he can’t take the boys’ life away; Geralt is clearly happy with Jaskier, Lambert’s coming around to opening up to someone, even if that someone is a giant asshole, and Eskel’s too easily unsettled to move elsewhere

-by the third day the boys don’t appear at school - and answer none of his texts - Jaskier gets unsettled; his followers urge him to just go and visit Geralt (they also finally enlighten Jaskier about his own feelings) and Jaskier does. thankfully, his camera is still uncharged and he forgot his phone at home or he would have filmed what he saw as he climbed their garden fence very ungracefully (no one opened the door)

-Geralt went too far out, too deep and got caught in the undertow of some massive waves, then was pulled under and cut himself on some rocks; Jaskier just about catches Eskel and Lambert dragging their brother ashore, his tail flopping helplessly; there’s blood washing away in the waves; Geralt’s eyes are closed and Jaskier understands with rare clarity that somehow this is his fault

-he hurtles towards Geralt, kicking up mud, so afraid that Geralt is going to die and as he does so he calls for Geralt, ignores Lambert’s curses and Eskel’s glower. They gently lower Geralt to the sand where the other two are out of reach of the hungry waves and Lambert runs for Vesemir, Eskel crouches down by Geralt’s tail, inspecting his wounds; meanwhile Jaskier is completely unfazed by the mer-boy thing, he simply drags Geralt’s head onto his lap and strokes his hair, apologizing over and over

-once Geralt is transformed back into human form, his wounds are patched up and Vesemir has given him a thorough lecture, he and Jaskier cuddle on the back porch couch and Jaskier keeps altering between laughing and crying; it’s ridiculous, Geralt is a mer-boy, but also he looked so fragile being hauled out of the water and Jaskier just loves him so fucking much

-and Geralt loves him back. and that’s how a spot of angst orchestrates their happily ever after

-meanwhile Aiden finds out when he has Lambert over for some making out one day and thinks it’s a funny idea to deposit his not-boyfriend in the pool mid-kiss; Lambert just floats in the pool, arms crossed, tail beating, waiting for Aiden to call the cops on him, but Aiden is super turned on and jumps in the pool with him and there’s more making out

THE END

[stellartales]

Xiao | Call My Name — 02

Chapter 02  — Shadow in the Wind

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ©justgenshin 

DO NOT REPOST,  TRANSLATE OR USE ANY PARTS OF MY FICS IN ANY FORMS AND CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

My fics are kept within Tumblr (@savagetrickster​ @justgenshin​ — I am both.) and ao3 but if you do see my works elsewhere apart from these two platforms, please notify me.

Disclaimer: It’s pretty obvious from what you have read in 01 but just for clarification’s sake, this story will not be following the game script. But I will draw ideas and inspirations from there.

Words: 1,734

Night fell hours ago. The moon was hung in full view for all to admire but the feeble light it emitted could barely be seen among the drifting wispy clouds. 

The only thing that was keeping the room illuminated was the tender golden glow of the fire sitting in the two standing lamps. 

Like every night ever since Wangshu Inn received her, a figure, right when no one was around, once again emerged from the shadows. 

His piercing gaze —  the only thing he allowed himself to touch her with — was contradictingly gentle as he accessed her pale face and listened to her breathing.

The tension on his forehead relaxed in what seemed to be... relief, at the absence of the harsh, shallow breaths he heard her fight to take when he found her.

He didn’t like how his steady hands shook then, with a strange…uneasiness, almost like fear. 

“Paimon will stay with her, thanks lady boss!”

Voices outside of the door snapped his focus back. 

“Simply ‘Boss’ will do, Paimon.”

His piercing eyes flickered back down to her and widened almost instantly to the sight of his outstretched hand, which somehow between his absent thoughts had ended up merely inches away from her face. 

Flinching his hand away as if he was scalded, the figure in the room retreated from the bed and vanished into the darkness like the wind.

The moon was hung in full view for all to see but the feeble light it emitted could barely be seen among the drifting wispy clouds. 

The only thing that was keeping the room illuminated was the tender golden glow of the fire sitting in the two standing lamps. 

Just like how it was before, the room was left empty once more. As if he was never there in the first place.

Quiet movements behind her eyelids reciprocated to the gentle touch of a light breeze curling against her cheeks like doting caresses. 

The sense of weightlessness was beginning to lift from her as dainty songs of singing birds and the soft creaks of wood started growing into her consciousness. 

She could hear careful footsteps as well and felt more than saw a presence hovering near her, its warmth brushing against her skin until something damp was placed between her brows.

Her forehead clenched in a frown against the new sensation sitting on her face. Her fingers curled into something cushy and velvety as a weak groan left her lips. 

Light beyond her eyelids beckoned her to open her eyes and so she did, squinting against the intruding brightness until she could finally adjust to the light.

Her vision focused into clarity and was greeted by a familiar stranger. 

“You are...?” She blinked in puzzlement as she racked her brain for an answer. 

Confusion marred a frown between her brows at the Inn’s boss who was standing over her with a mild smile — the fog in her groggy mind made it hard to answer the vague sense of recognition nagging her.

“Verr Goldet. Boss of Wangshu Inn.” The lady filled in the blanks helpfully, “Nice to have you back with us, Lumine.”

Wangshu Inn? 

She tried to wrap her fuddled head around the new information as a memory of her running away from Dark Hilichurls with Paimon flashed past.

“Wait, but I was…” She was pretty sure she was a goner then. “How did—”

“You were out for so long, Lumine!” A floating little figure flew right up to her face before Verr Goldet could finish.

Lumine winced instantly to the sharp rise in volume. 

“Shhh…You-You’re so loud.” She felt her head throb.

Paimon let out a small gasp and her face fell with a sheepish look. 

“Oops sorry, Paimon is just excited ‘cause Paimon has been so worried...!”

“Sorry for worrying you, Paimon.” An apologetic smile sat weakly on her face. “But how long have I been sleeping?”

“And…” Her gaze shifted back to Verr Goldet, face scrunched in confusion “...how did I end up here?”

“Pretty long,” The lady boss merely nodded, “It’s been three days ever since Xiao-sama found and brought you to me.”

Xiao?

Her eyes widened. 

Then that voice she heard...

The thirst to answer all the questions in her head spurned her to sit up in one quick move, only to be greeted by a sharp jolt of pain in her leg. “—ah!” 

The giddiness swimming in her head made her see stars. 

“Easy there, Lumine,” Verr Goldet’s voice matched the gentle backrubs the hand on her back made. “Afterall, you just overcame quite an ordeal.”

“An ordeal?” She held her head. “What happened to me?”

“You were down with high fevers due to the poison from the thorns of a Yingxuē and thankfully, that toxin could be easily flushed out through perspiration.” 

“Ying…” The queasiness in her throat subsided. “...xuē?” 

Then it dawned on her. 

Oh right, it had totally slipped from her that her leg got injured all because of that bush and its stray branch. 

And that was when she heard him.

“But Xiao…” 

She still found it hard to believe — wasn’t that voice just a hallucination caused by the poison flooding her blood?

“Was he really there?”

Paimon nodded aggressively. “He was, he was!” 

There was a spark in her eyes, “Right after you fainted, he appeared out of nowhere, striking down from the sky like lightning and finished off the Hilichurls in one sweep of his polearm!”

There was admiration she’d never seen in Paimon for Xiao since she did not have a good impression of the adeptus previously. 

“...He was so fast Paimon could barely catch what happened!”

A chuckle turned her head back to the lady boss.

“That’s Xiao-sama for you,” Verr Goldet beamed, “He is afterall our mighty Guardian Yaksha; monsters are measly flies to the power of an adeptus.”

Lumine remained silent for a while. 

Strong gratitude resonated in her heart along with a nearly tangible ache of curiosity and wonder for the adeptus.

“Is he here?” 

A smile crept across Verr Goldet’s face. 

“If you know where to look.”

— as she made her way out the door, behind the opened door was a brilliant view of the sky.

“But…” A rush of wind blew through the door, “...whether or not you would find Xiao-sama, it will be all up to him.”

The lady boss's smile turned mysterious as she looked back at them.

The setting sun on the horizon waned in the gathering darkness of the approaching night. 

Guests residing in Wangshu Inn were mostly back from errands they had to run and settling down in the eateries the Inn had to offer. 

Of course, Paimon would never give food a miss especially when Verr Goldet just invited her for a second round of dinner. Somehow during the days when she laid in the room on the highest floor battling the poison in her body, the lady boss had grown familiar with Paimon’s huge appetite.

Verr Goldet offered her a second dinner as well but Lumine had other ideas. 

She had her fill in the room she woke up in and ordered a certain dish she insisted on paying, not wanting to be a freeloader but to no avail because— 

“Xiao-sama trusted us to take care of you so it would be rude not to honor his trust.”

—the lady boss insisted after leaving behind a tray of her dinner.

The simple white garb on her was loosely comfortable to move in, but the winding staircase up to the upper balcony proved to be a challenge when she had to limp on one leg with a crutch tucked under an armpit while holding onto a takeaway lunchbox.

It had been what felt like five minutes ever since she began climbing the stairs. The dressed wound on her leg throbbed every step she took; the struggle to move were evident in her harsh raspy breaths and the way the thin coat of sweat stuck her fringe to her forehead. 

Her other hand was clenched tight on the banister, knuckles white with effort.

And when she finally reached the top, she couldn’t help letting out a loud sigh of relief. 

Lumine squinted her eyes against a burst of wind from the gaping door as she hobbled out into the open. 

Her hair was blown back in the rushing wind and she could not hold back a shiver to the cool tickles of the ocean breeze.

“...Xiao?” She called out gingerly. 

There was nothing but the wind and the sweeps of the waves below. 

“It’s me, Lumine!” 

Her eyes wandered to the dark sky above her as she continued to limp forward. 

Her voice calling out to him kept scattering in the wind no matter how many times she tried or how loud she threw her voice into the wind.

Looking lost with sad eyes at the vast sky and the seemingly huge moon above, her voice grew weaker until there was no more.

Maybe this was how it is.  

Perhaps to him...

The hopeful glint in her gaze dimmed as she lowered her gaze to a cruel thought in her head.

...she was nothing but just a mere mortal. Simply an annoyance he had to grudgingly protect. 

— to make things worse, she didn’t even belong to this world.

Even so... 

Her shoulders squared; her resolve to thank him refused to let her give up. 

...just one last time. 

Then she would stop — this bitter promise sank her heart.

“Please Xiao," Lumine raised her gaze again,  "I know you’re out here. I’m sorry I’m back here again.” 

She hobbled forward.

“I know you told me to leave you alone but I just—thunk” She felt the leg of the crutch supporting her hit an uneven portion of the wooden floor beneath her feet.

Her crutch cluttered to the ground before she could adjust her grip.

A sharp gasp surged through her throat as she staggered forward.

The ground was rushing fast toward her, the box in her hand was slipping from her hand.

Horror sept into her widening eyes.

Oh no oh no, the almond tofu is going to—

Then as if materializing out of thin air, a firm hold appeared around her waist and tugged her up in one swift move against a warm, breathing wall that could talk—

“What are you doing?”

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—  published on 17.02.2021

[infinitxes]

@regensia said:

“You’re slurring.” ( Suk to Sat! )

“Heh. W-Who’s fault’s that?”

He supposed that being drunk had it’s virtues. 

The skin all along his torso and abdomen had purpled in the aftermath. Asymmetrical lesions in the vague shape of barely-human dentition marked his throat. The wound had been allowed to heal enough that he’d survived the ordeal, waking up in a coagulated halo of his own blood. In the days that followed, the skin had puckered and become turgid and inflamed, flesh turning rancid and stubbornly refusing to heal. He burned to the touch.

The spreading infection left him fevered and unwilling to do very much at all. He’d spent much of his time alone and wrapped around himself, pouring with cold sweat and nauseous, balled up tightly on the futon afforded to him. With sepsis setting in, he’d drifted in and out of consciousness, losing all sense of chronology. Much to his chagrin, sleep continued to evade him, the pain that hindered his very breathing staving off any fruitless attempt at rest. As was to be expected, he’d been sought out eventually, dragged from the relative comfort of the room and made to attend the very curse who’d taken such joy in inflicting his suffering.

It would have been a mercy to have forgotten the last time he’d been invited to dine in Sukuna’s company. The foreign press of the other’s lips to his own had been a loveless affair, a violation that he still could not shake from his subconscious. He knew well the origin of the meat that had been served that day, that very fare which had been forced down his throat. 

If Sukuna had taken offence at his remark, he did not show it. The bottle of sake (one amongst many others left in the wake of whatever celebration he’d been hosting) sat between them. Though Satoru had tried to limit the amount which passed his lips, it was difficult to defy the king when he was sat in such close proximity. Satoru hunched, his lithe form drowning in the folds of his kimono. A couple hundred years in the Prison Realm had regrettably, done nothing for his alcohol tolerance. 

“Drink.” He motioned, and Satoru scowled in response. Parched and longing for water, he brought the cup to his lips and shakily sipped a minimal amount. The other’s four-eyes gaze tracked his movement. There was a threat in his mere act of observation, and Satoru found that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of willingly surrendering any fraction of the remainder of his mental clarity in the other’s presence. But his transgression had not gone unnoticed.

“Are you spurning my offering? You have some nerve, Satoru Gojo.” Despite his words, Sukuna sounded cheerful. Perhaps the subtle inebriation had something to do with his good mood. The curse rose and circled the table, movements languid and easy, his eyes shimmering with malice. His grasp closed around the back of his neck, hoisting him backwards and spilling him into his lap as he sat, cross-legged behind him. A hand fluidly cupped the back of his head, another bringing the cup to his lips and tipping it forwards, forcing him to swallow.

“Drink.” He repeated, tone firm, hardened to form an undeniable order.

The alcohol soaked his tongue, filled his throat and ran messy tracks down his chin. Satoru choked, spluttering around the burning in his throat and nose and feeling like he was drowning. Sukuna peered at him, somewhat curious but no less predatory. “Is there a reason you’re being stubborn, or would you rather I proceed without?” He clicked his tongue in discontent. Satoru pushed at him, freeing himself long enough to gasp for breath, his front soaked through. Fatigue was becoming commonplace in this state, and he slumped weakly against Sukuna’s chest, trying to stop the world from spinning about him like a top. The other’s voice came in deep reverberations, a thrum that set all his head ajar.

“Entertaining as it has been to see you like this, I’d rather you be presentable for my purposes.”

“You and your purposes can f-fuck right off.” He retaliated hoarsely, albeit slowly. Satoru tilted his head back, the motion straining the edges of the injury painfully. “P-Presentable? Fix this then.“

Sukuna smiled cheerlessly. A finger hooked beneath the collar, pulling it tight just below the wound in silent warning. “No. Though I might consider it after you’ve learned to clip that charming tongue of yours.”

Satoru shut his eyes, letting the air escape him in a single, defeated rush. He felt sick. He was sick. Sick in more ways than one.

“Eat shit and die.“

The curse sighed, sounding almost disappointed. Satoru squirmed ineffectually as he was yanked, maneuvered into his desired position. Facing upwards, Sukuna’s knee pressed into his back to form an uncomfortable arch. Fingers closed around his jaw like a vise, cocking it upwards, and though his vision was obscured in his awkward new position, he heard a metallic scraping as a knife was plucked from the table. There was no warning before the blade was slicing into the edge of one of the wounds, a crude and sweeping debridement. Satoru stiffened as if electrocuted, teeth clenching. He twisted and pressed his face into the folds of the other’s kimono, muffling his cries and clutching white-knuckled at fabric that he spotted with blood, sweat and tears alike.

Sukuna continued at a leisurely pace, cutting and prodding at flesh both devitalised and angry despite his gasping, wordless pleas. “Poor thing.” He chided knowingly, caressing his cheek and hair to pull his face out of concealment, before he promptly poured the remainder of the cup over his handiwork, delighting in the way Satoru writhed helplessly beneath him.

Eventually did he produce a roll of gauze, loosely wrapping the afflicted area whilst Satoru struggled to breathe through his laboured panting. The freshly inflicted wounds wept, painting blossoming petals along the bandaging. “You will accompany me the rest of the night.“ He declared, in a tone that clearly indicated that he would not be defied. A hand crept downwards, cupping his ribs and squeezing decisively until Satoru jerked and shuddered, doubling over in pain. “I expect you to behave.”

Indeed then did the meaning of presentable reveal itself, made all the worse by Satoru’s ignorance of what was held in store. Disobedience was practically his nature, but even that gave way to more crucial notions of survival when need be. He scrabbled, shaking from half a week’s worth of exhaustion. 

“P-Please, let me sleep. Just for a little while, I, just-”

Sukuna pressed his head down to silence him, filling another cup. “Shh. In time.”

The cup was lifted again, clicking against his teeth before he could even think to formulate a response. “Swallow.” 

Satoru gave in. 

He obliged him like a bad habit, mutely letting the alcohol slip past his teeth and burn down his throat. Sukuna’s fingers carded through his hair degradingly in what might have been encouragement, a quiet celebration of such a rare moment of subservient compliance. Every sip pulled him a little further under, dredging him in the impromptu sedation (what was nearly a kindness). Warm, pliable and boneless, he let himself be drawn further into Sukuna’s arms, succumbing to the haze. 

His body gone limp, his pain had subsided enough that the unconsciousness he’d been so yearning for finally began to take hold. 

Somehow, he thought that he would be glad for the partial escape.

[moeruhoshi]

Juvia groaned, holding back her tears as she nursed her ankle, huddling against the rocks she slid down for some semblance of warmth.

She looked up into the dark night that shrouded her in mystery, hiding her from anyone that had the chance of seeing where she was.

She winced, holding the wound on her head, too dizzy to collect herself. It hurt to yell and she didn't want to strain herself in fear of passing out.

It was dumb of her to walk off in the middle of the night by herself, especially when Lucy had offered to go with her. But she wanted to find the scarf that Gray had dropped...the one she worked so hard to handmake for him.

She overheard him talking to his friends laughing about how he tossed it behind him and left it in the snow.

Juvia felt a bit foolish for going back to get it, but she made it herself. She learned how to knit herself and it took months to finally get it right. If Gray didn't want it then she could at least get it back for herself, is what she thought.

But she just had to go and fall down the side of a hill with no luck of finding where he'd let it go.

The cold began to nip harshly at her cheeks and nose, burning and burrowing their way into her skin. Juvia cringed as she looked at the bright light of her cellphone screen. She frowned and turned off the screen after seeing that she had no signal, not even holding it up would help her.

She wiped away the bit of blood ready to fall into her eye, leaning her head to rest against a rock.

"Just don't...just don't fall asleep,"

"Juvia! For christ's sake, Juvia! Where the hel–heck did you go?!"

There was the light of a flashlight bursting through the trees above her, frantically moving around as whoever tried their best to look for her.

Their voice was deep, one that began to fade with each passing moment, but she began to recognize it somewhat.

"Gray-sama!"

The pounding in her head began to be too much for her, her injuries forcibly putting her to sleep.

When Juvia woke up again, her body was being carefully cradled, her head leaning softly against a warm chest.

She mumbled incoherently, cozying up to the person who held her.

"Juvia? You up?" She blinked and stared upwards, surprised by the mop of pink hair that met her gaze.

"...Natsu-san?"

"I know ya wanted ice princess to find you, but that no good piece of...well, you know that I don't like to swear in front of you. Luce told woke me up and said you were gone too long so I came to find ya."

"Is he...what did he say?"

"You're hurt to hell and you're still worried about what that ass–idiot's up to? He didn't even bother getting out of bed. He figured you were fine, a real crackpot he is."

His voice began to fade again, forgetting that she was still injured. Natsu continued to talk which helped her a bit, keeping her from dozing off completely. She couldn't make out what he was saying but felt comforted all the same. Natsu was always there for her when she needed him most, in those times that Gray seemed to let her down the most.

She swore he was still talking to her when she began to come to again, his voice not far off, as though he was still carrying her out of the woods.

"N-Natsu-san...?" Her voice was strained and dry, her hand limply reaching out for his when she didn't feel his arms around her.

"It's me, actually," She tiredly turned her head to face Gajeel, his eyebrows knit together as he gingerly took hold of her hand.

"Gajeel-kun," She smiled softly as he still sported a twisted face.

"The others were here to see you earlier, but they couldn't stop crying...the nurse made 'em leave. Didn't want your fever getting worse,"

"Oh...I didn't notice it," She laughed a bit, coughing and choking from the lack of water.

"Sit up a bit," He instructed, holding her back steady as he tipped a cup against her lips.

"They're not too worried, are they?" Juvia asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke.

"Salamander brought you in with a bloody gash on your head, whaddya think? Bunny girl's beating herself up for not going out with you and Shrimp can't even leave their room. Erza and Cana were tryna keep them calm, but you know them, watching someone cry always makes them cry. The rest of the school doesn't even want to leave the hotel with you sick like this. We're staying here until you can leave, no one wants you to go home on your own."

"And Gray-sama? Did...he come to visit me?" She asked, knowing the answer before Gajeel could even speak. His lips tightened and he stood from his chair, curling his fist as he threw her a pained glare. 

"That fucking bastard...I swear he doesn't deserve you at all! He just ran out of the place, woke up this morning looking happy as hell, and then he just fucking ran off when we told him,"

"Juvia's sure... Juvia's sure Gray-sama...Gray-sama will..." She began to cough, the fever reclaiming her with its delirious haze, trapping her in a swollen headache of a fog.

She came in and out of these blips, her head injury failing to let her keep proper consciousness. Lucy and Levy and the rest of the girls came in with swollen eyes and hoarse voices. Natsu cried angry tears by her side, holding her limp hand between his. 

There was no telling how long she'd been asleep, for a few days she assumed at times. But not once when she opened her eyes, was Gray there beside her. Which made her think that maybe it hadn't been that long, maybe just a day or two. She really didn't know what she was expecting from him at times. 

She still really wanted to see him, for him to hold her hand like the others did. Her eyes never stayed open long enough for her to ask where he was or how he was feeling. 

Her fever broke at some point, just suddenly she felt right as rain. She still had to bandage her head, and her ankle was still swollen, three days having passed.

The nurse recommended she stay in bed for a couple more days, just to regain her health since she couldn't stomach anything with her persistent fever. 

Once she woke up, that first day with a clear head, she wasn't allowed any visitors. Just to give her a bit of clarity and to keep her health steady.

It was a bit lonely, especially since she just woke up and was dying to let her friends know that she was okay. 

Juvia was all napped out, staying awake until the sun fell and the moon rose, flashing its light into her bedroom window. 

The door suddenly squeaked open as she began to doze off some time past midnight, surprised by the person who walked in. With that silly scarf wrapped around his neck. 

"Hey,"

"Hey," 

Juvia could say definitively that Gray often spoke with his eyes before he ever did with his words. And always with her, the way he looked at her just told her what he was going to say. 

"Where has Gray-sama been? Juvia was waiting," She said, a bit of anger in her voice as he took a seat beside her. 

"Looking for the scarf," He said, looking away from her as he rested his elbows on his knees. "It was up in a tree, you never would've found it like that,"

"But...but that isn't the point." Gray cleared his throat, his lips twisting as he tried to force out his next sentence. "You could've died out there...all alone and I would've been the damn reason,"

"Juvia doesn't think that's a very good apology," She stifled a laugh, used to his emotional glares that masked what he was feeling underneath. 

"Don't! Just––Juvia, come on, over this of all things!" He said as he tugged on the scarf. "It's just a fucking piece of––!"

"It means a lot more to me and you know that!" She shouted, wincing as her head wound stung a bit. 

"D-Don't yell!" He said quickly, his attitude changing as he worried over her health. "I'm sorry, I'm not saying any of this right at all..."

"Sometimes Juvia gets tired of how much of an idiot Gray-sama can be," She sighed as he settled back into the chair. "Natsu-san was there for me, he always is,"

"Uh-huh," He pursed his lips, frowning at her words. "If I woulda known you were in trouble...well I never thought you'd just go out in the middle of the...I just always think you're going to be okay, okay? I don't worry about you, I always think you're going to be okay, no matter what happens,"

Juvia smiled a bit as he huffed, his hand wiping roughly over his face. 

"I'm sorry," He groaned, their eyes meeting again in a pained lock. "I'm so sorry, Juvia. I wish I knew you were out there. I should'nt've tossed your gift like that...I should have come to see you sooner, I'm the worst,"

"Juvia's no worse for the wear," She shrugged, blushing a bit as he took hold of her hand. 

“I’ll worry about you from now on, alright? So don’t do anything dumb like this again without telling me,”

“As long as Gray-sama is a little more honest with Juvia, yeah?”

“Yeah...I promise...”

[comfort-questing]

“Can you write a thing where the whumpee wakes up after rescue, but they are still in pain and anxious, so the caretaker looks after them, easing their and reassuring them, telling the whumpee gently to go back to sleep?“

Prompt from @lurkingwhump

Somewhere, there was a blanket. That was the first thing they noticed. There was a blanket weighing them down, their fingers brushing against prickly warm wool, and something soft beneath their body. What little they remembered of recent experiences made them a little confused as to where they were, and why. They startled, trying to sit up, and the shock of pain that arced through them took their breath away, sending them limply backward onto the bed.

“Oh - careful - “ The voice was soothing, a man’s quiet voice with an edge of half-lost accent to it, leaning strangely on one sound or another. “Don’t move yet.”

“Where,” they gasped - where am I, where are the others, where did everything go - and blinked open their eyes into firelight, and the lined gentle face of an older man as he bent over their bed. 

“You’re in a house on the edge of the city. I don’t think you ought to know more than that, for all our sakes.” 

The old man reached down towards them; they startled again, drawing back from the touch without meaning to, flaring once more the lines of burning pain across their chest and stomach. There had been more blood, the last time they were awake - blood, and dry stale cold darkness, and the weight of chains on their wrists, and someone laughing somewhere... 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. May I - “ 

They nodded, and the old man reached down to stroke a hand across their forehead, brushing back the hair in a touch as cautious as a mother with a sick child. An unexpected touch, but oddly soothing, and they felt some of the tension and fear melt away beneath it. 

“Thank goodness.” The old man sat down on the edge of the bed, cautiously, as if trying to move it as little as could be. “‘You’ve been ill for some days, but your fever’s broken now. Your wounds were infected when they found you.” 

“Found - me.” Their throat was dry as they spoke the words. “So I was still there, where they’d kept me - “ Their breath quickened again, their heart racing. “They’ll be looking. I’m valuable to them, they won’t let me escape - “

“Yes. Yes, valuable.” The old man smiled, a wry twist of his mouth. “But you’re safe now - they haven’t followed the trail at all up till now. And we’ll protect you till you’re well enough to look after yourself again, don’t worry.” 

“Who’s we,” they said, weakly. Their head was too heavy to lift from the pillow. Being able to sit up, let alone stand, seemed a monumental burden, but lying in bed filled them with helpless fear. 

“People who care. People who understand the kind of thing you’re fighting for, and want to help you fight.” Once again the old man reached down and brushed his wrinkled hand across their hair, warm and alive and grounding against the confusion and haze. “You don’t have to worry about that now. Just rest - you’ve had a rough time of it these last days, friend.”

From the fragments of clarity surfacing in their brain, they guessed the old man was right. It had been so long since they could shut their eyes without fear of what might happen before they woke, that they still felt they needed to struggle for consciousness; but the old man’s fingers combed gently through their hair, smoothing the tangles, and the ache of their healing wounds was less now. Maybe best to sleep, if they’d been safe thus far...

“...Thanks,” they murmured, feeling their words slurring. “Thank you.”

They didn’t remember hearing the answer, but the soft touch of a kind hand followed them into the dimness of sleep, a promise of security waiting until they woke again. 

[punksarahreese]

what if,, you wrote about ava taking vivi home for the first time 👀

👀

***

"You’re sure she’s fine?"

"Ava," Connor couldn’t help but laugh, "You’re the CT attending, you tell me."

The blonde glared at him, a protective hand cradling the back of the baby’s head as she held her close. Vivi was happily asleep in the sling against Ava’s chest, her oxygen cannula snuggly fitted to her face with little heart shaped pieces of tape. Getting her to adjust to the cannula wasn’t difficult, she’d needed one since birth, but getting her to leave it on her ears was a struggle as she started gaining more fine motor skills. The stickers helped though, Maggie’s idea, and Ava thought it looked adorable.

"Ava, seriously," Connor continued, "She’s at a healthy weight now for a seven month old given her history. She’s feeding better and we were able to remove her NG tube. As long as you keep an eye on her respiration and she doesn’t get a fever, I don’t see why she can’t go home."

"But-"

"Don��t let her talk you out of this, Connor," a familiar voice said softly as the door opened a crack, "She’s been like this for days since you said Vivvy can come home."

"I’m just worried!" Ava protested, giving Sarah the same look she had shot at Connor before.

"You’re hovering," Sarah said gently, "You’re a heart surgeon, Ava. She’s in the best possible care whether she’s here or at home. Let her get used to your apartment or she’ll never want to leave the hospital."

Ava huffed but fell silent, knowing Sarah was right. That reaction made Connor laugh again, earning himself a shove from the CT attending.

"It’s just funny," he mused, "Seeing the ever-confident Ava Bekker so nervous. Motherhood has changed you, huh?"

"Shut it."

"Don’t start," Sarah rolled her eyes, "The nurses are ready for her car seat test."

Ava let Sarah grab Vivi’s bag off the exam table, shifting her in her arms a little as she felt her stir. Her mother just hushed her before she could wake fully, following Sarah out into the hall to find the NICU nurses.

The car seat check was important for every infant going home, but for Vivienne it would be a major milestone. Her respiratory therapist noted how her stats often dropped when partially reclined, so the car seat would be a big test of that. She had to stay in it for 90 minutes without issue if they were going to go home today, which made Ava anxious.

The nurses had the car seat set up on the lounge table, since Ava was a doctor there they made it a little more lax than usual. Still, they watched closely as she lowered Vivi into the seat, ensuring she did the buckles up properly. Once she had tightened the straps and adjusted her cannula so it didn’t get caught, Ava took a step back. They got her portable heart monitor leads hooked up to the bigger machine for clarity’s sake, watching as her heart rate jumped for a minute.

Big brown eyes flew open as Vivienne realized she wasn’t comfortable in Ava’s arms anymore but instead in an unfamiliar seat. She looked around the room in alarm for a second, as if she was debating on whether or not to cry.

"Hey, honeybee," Ava said as she crouched in front of the car seat, "Mum’s right here."

The comforting, low sound of her accented words was enough to dull the panic in the baby’s eyes, blinking at Ava. A big smile spread across her face, a sight that her mother would never get tired of.

"90 minutes on the clock, Vi," Connor said to the baby and then looked at her mum, "Let me know before you leave." With that he left the room, probably going to check on his CICU patient from a surgery earlier that morning.

Ava took a seat at the table beside Sarah, watching as Vivi just took in everything around her. She was particularly entranced by the moon and star pattern on her car seat cover, staring at it and babbling every so often. It was relieving to see her act like this, completely normal behaviour for a seven month old trying to occupy herself. Ava wouldn’t change Vivi for the world, but sometimes her normal was just so different from any other infant that it became overwhelming.

"She’ll be okay, Aves," Sarah spoke softly in her ear so the nurses didn’t hear, "You’ve done everything right."

"It’s just... absolutely terrifying."

"I know."

"We’re both so used to it here," Ava admitted, "I don’t know how being alone at home will go."

Sarah nodded, hesitating for a moment before saying, "I could stay over for a couple days, if it makes you feel any better?"

"I-" Ava was about to tell her she didn’t have to but honestly the thought was so reassuring, "Would you mind?"

"Of course not, I’m always here when you need me."

"You’re the best, Sarah," Ava smiled at her, "Thank you."

"I know," Sarah said again, a grin on her face that for some reason made Ava’s heart flutter.

***

"Here we are, honeybee," Ava reached across the car seat to release it from the base. Vivi was staring up at her with wide eyes agin, cheeks a little tear-stained and one of her cannula stickers peeling off. She didn’t like car rides, they had concluded, which would be something to work on once she was settled.

Ava handed her keys to Sarah so she could unlock the apartment door, her own hands full with the baby and her oxygen tank. She had a bigger O2 unit in her room for Vivienne, but the smaller one would be good for moving around the house or outside. It had a little cart or a bag that it could be carried around in, which definitely helped since Vivi was so tiny.

They made it into Ava’s spacious apartment without any issue, Sarah immediately going to set their bags down in the living room. Ava had some trouble kicking off her shoes while holding onto the car seat but she managed, bringing Vivi over to the coffee table to get her out of the seat.

"Not a fan of the car, huh?" Ava asked her, lifting her gently from the carrier. Her attitude completely changed the second her mother picked her up, smiling brightly again. Ava laughed and took off the heart sticker that had slid its way almost all the way down her face, deciding she would just replace it later when the baby started tugging at her cannula.

"Well, welcome home, Vivi."

Ava took her around to look at everything in the living room, stopping at the big fish tank for a moment because she immediately became entranced. She even reached out with a tiny hand to touch the tank, making her mother’s heart melt at the sight.

"Mummy’s gonna have to get you your own fishies, isn’t she, Vivvy?"

She looked at Sarah and laughed, "Don’t give her any ideas just yet."

They let Vivi watch the fish for a bit longer until she started yawning, signalling that it was close to her bed time. She had luckily adjusted to a decent sleep schedule over the past few months, finally sleeping through the night save for a few bouts of sleep apnea. They were working on trying to fix that, but for now close monitoring and her oxygen was enough to help her stay safe. Sarah said she would go make up a bottle for her if Ava wanted to get settled in her room, which she was grateful for.

The surgeon was surprised at how eager to help Sarah had been since Ava first brought up the idea of adopting Vivienne. Of course she knew the psychiatrist was always happy to help people, but she just wasn’t one to particularly want to be around children. That being said, Ava never seemed like that kind of a person either. Sometimes it just depends on the kid, and Vivi happened to be pretty exceptional in Ava’s mind.

If there was one thing about Ava it was that she was very organized in terms of her home. Even as she was an anxious wreck about the adoption, she still took every possible second to ensure Vivi’s room turned out just right. It did, she thought, and complimented the rest of her apartment quite well. The walls were white, save for the furthest wall from the window that had been painted a sage green colour. The rest of the room had purple and green accents. A nice, calming colour scheme with no particular gendered connotation; something Ava was particular about. Besides, Vivi seemed to like cool tones like green; she always focused much more closely on the hospital staff who wore green or blue scrubs.

The corner closest to the crib had a comfy rocking chair, similar to the ones in the NICU for familiarity’s sake. Vivi’s big oxygen tank was snugly in between the two pieces of furniture, already decorated with stickers to offset the harsh medical feel of it.

Ava carried her over to her change table, moving the sleeper she had already set out for her that morning. A soft grey material with space decals on it, a gift from Maggie the week before. She gently laid Vivi down on the table, speaking to her gently as she turned off her oxygen and removed the tubing from behind her ears.

"Tubes away for now, love," she kept her voice low as the baby looked already on her way to sleep, "Well get it all hooked up again before bed."

She changed her quickly and made sure her heart monitor leads were stuck down properly. She had made a little pocket in all of her outfits to account for the wires, allowing them to go out the one side near her hip so they were as comfortable as possible. Vivi was impossibly well behaved as her mother fiddled with the medical equipment and put vitamin E on her older surgery scars. To her this was normal, comforting even, because Ava was so gentle and this routine so familiar.

"Hey," Sarah’s voice made Ava startle a little and the other woman was quick to apologize. She came over to set the warm bottle of formula down out of Vivienne’s reach, the gentle hand that found the small of Ava’s back made her stomach flip in an unexpected way.

"All done, bee," she said as she shook off the feeling, picking up the baby and grabbing the bottle. She made her way over to the chair, sitting down and maneuvering Vivi into a much more comfortable position.

"Want help?" Sarah asked, noticing how Ava was struggling a bit to hook up her monitor leads one handed. The blonde nodded after a moment, letting Sarah turn on the bigger monitor by the crib and handing her the wires. Sarah hooked them up to the machine with easy, ensuring there was enough slack to avoid tugging. Ava didn’t notice herself holding her breath when the other woman leaned over her to check Vivi’s cannula placement too. She still smiled at her friend when she pulled back, despite the vague disappointment that she did.

She was tore from that mindset though when a tiny hand grabbed at her wrist, a firm, “Bub!” punctuating her annoyance.

Once everything was settled, Ava finally listened to the rather disgruntled baby in her arms and let her have the bottle. That immediately pleased her, Vivi falling silent as she ate, her little hand curling around Ava’s to feel more secure.

Sarah laughed a little at that, watching fondly as the baby’s eyes closed heavily, “Her appetite has certainly improved.”

“It has,” Ava smiled down at her daughter, “She’s getting big, almost at a good weight for transplant.”

“Where is she on the list?”

“Second,” a sigh that made Sarah’s heart ache for Ava, this was so hard on her. As a heart surgeon she knew how critical Vivi’s condition was and, while it helped in being an excellent mother, it also led to her overthinking everything related to her health.

“she’ll get there, Aves.”

Ava shrugged, her thumb brushing over Vivi’s sleep-flushed cheek, “I hope so.”

***

Sarah had fallen asleep on the couch around midnight, thankful that Ava was one more expensive furniture because it was the most comfortable couch to sleep on. She woke up at 5 am to go to the bathroom, but when passing Vivi’s room she saw that Ava was still in her chair.

The other woman was slumped uncomfortably in the rocking chair, her arms resting on the railing of the crib. She had clearly fallen asleep while keeping close watch over her baby and it made Sarah sad. Ava loved this baby so much, more than anything as far as she could tell, and it was making her forget she needed to take care of herself.

“Ava,” Sarah walked into the room, leaning down to shake her shoulder. The surgeon startled awake, looking at Sarah and then immediately turning to the crib. When she realized Vivi was okay she sighed heavily, looking back to the brunette with tired eyes.

“Ava, you need to sleep.”

“I’m fine,” she shook her head, “Want to be here with her.”

The constant beeping on the heart monitor and low hum of the O2 tank was so familiar. It reminded Ava of surgeries but also of sleepless nights in the NICU. Her home and work life had merged so much over the past 7 months and she wasn’t quite sure how to cope with it.

Sarah didn’t take no for an answer though, instead she crouched in front of Ava and took her hands gently, “You’re going to make yourself sick. I know you want to be here for her but you can’t do your best if you’re sleep deprived.”

“But-“

“Go to bed, Aves,” Sarah said firmly, “I’ll sit with her until you wake up.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t have to be to work until 10, I have a patient check at the prison later anyway.”

Ava looked like she really wanted to go to bed but she still hesitated, staring down at her daughter. Vivi was fast asleep, her mass of light curls fluffed out against the mattress. She had a tiny fist squished under her chin and she looked so peaceful, so much bigger than she did in that hospital incubator months before.

“Am I doing enough, Sarah?” Ava asked suddenly, “Can I give her the life she deserves?”

That made Sarah grab her wrist, pulling her up and into a hug. Ava resisted at first, she wasn’t a hugger, but eventually relaxed into her comforting embrace. She let Sarah hold her for a minute, realizing just how badly she needed this. She needed someone, someone she could trust and lean on when things got overwhelming. She needed love and reassurance, the kind that didn’t need explanation or excuse. She needed Sarah; she just wasn’t quite sure how to tell her that yet.

“You’re going to give her the best life,” Sarah promised her, “Vivi is so lucky to have a mother like you.”

[amixiifish]

Heat- Chapter 33: Meeting the Dragons

They had learned in the next while that they were to meet some great masters.

They start walking up the stairs before Aang starts talking.

“Zuko?” Aang asks. 

“Yes?”

“Is it really all my fault that dragons are dying?”

“No!” Zuko shakes his head feverishly. “ It’s Sozin and his fucked up belief of how to attain power.”

“It’s not yours either.”

“I know. I think.”

“Good. And Zuko?”

“Yes?”

“Language.”

“Oh, for Agni’s sake,” Zuko mutters.  It went from scary threats of being burnt on the spot for being unworthy to standing on a giant pathway with caves on either side as the Sun Warriors danced with eternal flames beneath you- quite the turnaround. 

“Zuko,” Aang hisses.

“What?” Zuko snaps back.

“My fire went out. Give me some of yours!” Aang cried, distressed.

“Fine,” Zuko sighs.

He was about to give Aang some before a roar surprises him and causes him to extinguish his own flame. “Shit. Whatever. You’re the Avatar and I’m, well. I’m not useless. We can take these two masters,” Zuko said cooly.

Two dragons, one red and one blue, emerge from the caves.

“Still think we can take them?” Aang says in awe of the beasts in front of him.

“Shut up, I said no such thing,” Zuko retorts under his breath. The two dragons look at them expectantly before twirling and almost dancing around them.

“Zuko! We need to do the Dancing Dragon!” Aang says.

“No. I am going to die with dignity, not disco fever!” Zuko snarls. Aang gives him puppy eyes.

Zuko represses the urge to sigh but takes a starting stance.

Aang’s excited smile was enough to make the corners of Zuko’s mouth twitch up in the semblance of a smile.

They do the dance, the red dragon following Zuko’s movement, and the blue following Aang’s. When they finish the dragons blow fire at them.

“What the-” Zuko says, as Aang shrieks, latching onto Zuko’s arm.

But the fire swirls around them in hundreds of colors. 

Aang slowly lets go but doesn’t leave Zuko’s side.

“Whoa,” he whispers softly. Zuko can’t do more than nod in agreement.

Clarity appeared on Zuko’s face.

“I understand,” he whispers in amazement.

Aang makes a noise of understanding. 

The fire slowly dies and the dragons retreat to their caves.

They climb down the stairs.

“My uncle didn’t kill the last dragon. He lied to protect these dragons.” Zuko said, admiration sparkling in his eyes.

“Yes. He was the last person the dragons gave their knowledge too,” The Sun Warrior chief said.

Then he turned dead serious. “Now that you know, we must kill you on the spot.”

Aang looked horrified while Zuko bit back a laugh.

“I’m kidding, young Avatar,” the man said, amusement crinkling the corner of his eyes.

Aang visibly relaxes before saying, “I used to think that fire was destruction. Now I realize it’s also life. It’s like the sun but inside you. Did you guys know this!?”

“Given the fact they are called the Sun Warriors, I think so,” Zuko said dryly.

The chief laughs. “You should go. You have a war to fight.”

Aang nods and Zuko groans.

“Another flight on a giant bison. Great,” Zuko grumbles. Aang shoots him a look of irritation. Zuko rolls his eyes at him and Aang sticks his tongue out at Zuko.

When they reach home, Katara immediately rushes over and inspects Zuko and then does the same to Aang.

“Oh, you’re fine,” she says, relief clear in her voice.

Sokka hugs Zuko from behind and Jet presses a kiss to the top of his head.

Aang spent all of dinner explaining what they learned. Zuko was tired but spoke his piece too.

During their explanation, they got up to perform the Dancing Dragon, and the rest of the group watched with mild interest. 

“Nice dance,” Haru offers.

“It’s a thousand-year-old fire bending technique,” Zuko points out, offended.

“Let’s go ahead and tap dance to defeat the Fire Lord,” Toph drawled.

“It’s not a dance!” Aang cried incredulously.

“Then what’s it called?” Sokka countered.

“It’s called the Dancing Dragon,” Zuko replies leaving a flustered Aang from his response.

Zuko fought to keep his eyes open as the Gaang talked.

Teo, Agni bless his soul, notices first.

“Are you ok, Zuko?” he asks, concerned.

“Did you take apart that nest?” Zuko mumbles, half asleep on Jet’s shoulder.

A shake of the head from The Duke pulls a relieved sigh from the fire bender.

“I’m going to go to sleep,” Zuko said, swaying as he got up.

He almost fell but Haru catches him just in time.

“What did they do to you there?” Jet asks.

“They blew fire at us,” Aang supplied.

Everyone gawked at the tattooed boy. Aang just shrugs and goes to join Zuko in the nest. Slowly everyone trickles in and they fall asleep in the comfort of each other’s arms.