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wlntrsldler · 5 months

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poisoned mercury | long way home

a/n: poisoned mercury is officially over :( but i will be adding small blurbs in between chapters and adding post-chb five star and luke to the masterlist because i'm not ready to say bye to them just yet. enjoy pm's sophomore album cover, optimism don't come easy (unless it's with you). also no tags for this one because tumblr has been super weird and the tags haven't been working for everyone.

x. long way home by 5sos

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“thank you all for your participation this summer at camp half blood,” mr. d said into the microphone. he was finishing up his end-of-the-year speech and there was no dry eye in the house. all the campers were sniffling as they reminisced on all the memories they made this summer. your dad cleared his throat, “if any of you tell anyone that i cried, i will never forgive you.”

annabeth giggled, rubbing the tears from her eyes, “your dad makes that joke every year, i swear.”

“oh, i’m sure,” you replied, laughing along with her. “above all, he is a dad and that means he recycles the same jokes over and over again.”

“and they’re never funny,” percy added, though he was laughing at what mr. d was saying. “but i feel like i gotta laugh or else i won’t be accepted next year.”

“you have my permission to not laugh, perce,” you nudged him. “he gotta get some new material.”

“hey,” clarisse said from beside you. you turned to her, letting annabeth, percy, and grover fall into their own conversation. she was no longer adorned in her camp counselor outfit, opting to wear something from her own closet now that her duties for the summer were finished. “thanks for getting me this job, y/n. kinda changed my life with this one.”

your eyes darted between clarisse and chris, who was waiting by the wings of the stage ready for his cue to close out the farewell celebration. you placed a hand on clarisse’s knee, giving it a squeeze, “thanks for always having my back, clar.”

“always,” she nodded, “you’re my sister.”

you were feeling a lot of things at once. there were a lot of emotions coursing through your veins. you always knew that there were people who cared about you. your parents had a funny way of showing it sometimes, but you never doubted that they loved you. your friends, clarisse, silena, charlie, were always there for you, even during the most stressful times of your life. the poisoned mercury boys who welcomed you with open arms like you were a part of their dysfunctional family the whole time.

and luke.

where do you even start with luke? luke castellan was the boy you had promised yourself never to fall for again. the heartbreaker, the player, the musician, and yet, here you were, completely eating your words. everything you thought you knew about him was wrong and since you let your guard down, your world was turned on its axis. he was so much more than what people made him out to be. he was so much more than you expected him to be.

and you were lucky enough to have him. who knew a summer in montauk would lead to this?

“to close out our incredible summer, welcome poisoned mercury!” your dad said, clapping wildly as the boys entered the stage. he placed the mic back on the stand, giving short hugs to the band as they walked up to him. luke was the last to hug your dad and their interaction lasted longer than the rest of the boys’. when they pulled away from their embrace, luke had a slight blush on his face and a goofy grin as his eyes scanned the crowd to find you.

he sent you a shy wave from the stage as he adjusted the mic to his level. you blew him a kiss, which he returned and that made the crowd go wild. to them, luke was blowing a kiss into the ether, a message with no recipient, but you knew it was meant for you. something about it made your heart constrict in your chest. it was still hard to believe he chose you, but luke spent every waking moment making sure you believed it.

“camp half blood,” luke said, eyes twinkling under the lights. travis picked up his drumsticks from the floor, giving the left one a twirl, as he got situated on his stool. connor and chris played their guitars experimentally, tweaking the strings to get the right key. “man, i don’t even think we can explain just how thankful we are to have spent the summer with you all.”

luke turned around to face the boys who all nodded in agreement.luke faced the crowd again, sighing, “i learned a lot of things here. one being, there are a lot of talented people out there in the world. getting to work with y’all was such an amazing experience. many of you guys are aspiring musicians, and i’m here to tell you to keep going. i know it seems like sometimes your dreams aren’t worth chasing, but i promise you they are.”

“some of you kids are so talented,” luke said, shaking his head in disbelief. “little beth, i’m talking about you when i say this. you’re brilliant and i know i’m gonna be seeing your name in the charts in a few years. you got more talent in your pinky finger than we four up here have combined.”

the rest of the boys laughed, but agreed. luke narrowed his eyes, searching for a few more faces to give a shoutout to, “oh! and our boys percy and grover! we love you guys. keep in touch. you guys have to join us in the studio one day.”

“did luke castellan just give us a shoutout?” grover asked, turning to percy with his eyes as wide as saucers.

you laughed, patting him on the back, “i believe he did.”

“holy shit,” percy mumbled.

“language.”

“come on, counselor clarisse,” the blond boy groaned, “camp is over.”

clarisse huffed, smiling teasingly, “fine. i’ll give you a pass this one time.”

“not many people know this, but i went to camp half blood when i was younger,” luke continued, looking down at his feet. “it was my favorite place in the world. some of my best memories involved me sitting right where many of you are sitting right now, but then life happened and things went sideways for me for a while. it took me a while to pick up a guitar again, but man, i’m so glad i did.”

“if it wasn’t for music, i wouldn’t be here in front of you guys today,” he smiled, locking eyes with you, “and i wouldn’t have had the best summer of my life.”

“holy shit,” clarisse said, mimicking percy. she turned to you with a wide grin, “castellan is talking about you up there.”

“he is not.”

as if he read your mind, luke leaned into the mic, “thanks, five star.”

your heart swelled as memories of this summer flooded your mind; the smoke sessions in your secret spot that soon became luke’s as much as it was yours. hours sitting on the creaky bench as you both got lost in the fog of vices and genuine conversations. the bench where you learned about luke and he learned about you, something more than just introductions and superficial answers; the countless impromptu jam sessions in your cabin that started with you playing records on your speaker and ended with the boys playing their instruments as they screamed out lyrics to their favorite songs with you and clarisse. constant noise complaints from neighboring cabins because you were being too loud so late at night with melodies and laughter escaping through your open window. luke pulling you into his lap as he whispered cheesy love songs into your ear as you giggled; the days in your room, locked away with luke, enjoying his company. his lips always finding their way back to yours like a promise that he’ll always be around. luke. luke luke.

you were glad the lights were focused on the stage so nobody could see your red cheeks. the boys cheered from behind luke, unabashedly voicing their approval of your relationship. the crowd cheered along, even if none of them knew what the situation was. luke rolled his eyes at his friends for the commotion they started, “the song we’re playing for you today is not yet released, but we decided that it’s the perfect song to end the perfect summer. this song is called long way home, we hope you like it.”

–

“did you know you had a dimple on your back?” you asked, letting your finger linger in the crevice on luke’s skin. goosebumps raised on his tanned flesh as you lightly grazed his exposed back. “right here.”

“mhm,” he replied, off-handedly. he didn’t really know what you were saying. he was too dazed by the feeling of your touch on him. you two were on the grass on the hill by the lake, a reprieve, a plead for time to stop even just for a few minutes. tomorrow summer would officially be over. tomorrow the two of you would be leaving camp half blood. tomorrow you would no longer have empty hours to fill with each other.

luke didn’t want to think about it too much. he’d gotten too used to finding you lounging in your room or in the living room where he could join you to do nothing. to do everything. he didn’t know how he’d survive the next few months without you. your coach gave you the all-clear to resume practice once you were back on campus, which meant that visits during short breaks were no longer an option. luke was happy that things worked out for you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that you could no longer visit him during thanksgiving break.

droplets of water from your hair trickled down his back. he was face down with his head facing you, eyes fluttered shut as a sign of peace, while you leaned over him, tracing shapes on his back. you’d both just emerged from the water, checking off items on your “summer goodbye bucket list.” that’s what you’ve been up to this last week, revisiting memories and places that you weren’t ready to leave yet.

you chuckled softly, pressing a light kiss on luke’s spine. he smiled at the feeling of your lips, eyes hazily opening to meet yours. you took your place beside him, propping yourself up on an elbow as you watched luke come back to his senses, “are you even listening to me?”

“of course,” he lied, grinning at you in the boyish and charming way that always had your knees buckling. he squinted as you moved your head, the heat of the sun hitting his face, “‘m always listening to you, five star.”

“liar.”

he laughed then, letting the sound echo into the air, “i try my best, at least. but i’m no multitasker. i can’t concentrate when you’re sitting here all pretty in front of me and touching me like this.”

“you’re such a flirt,” you grimaced, though the smile on your face gave away your true feelings for the boy. luke looked pretty like this. there was no tension in his shoulders, like he was finally letting himself breathe. you wondered when you’d see him like this again. just last night after the celebration, you two had stayed up talking until deep into the night about how nervous he was to come back to the spotlight. he’d found solace in camp half blood, in not having to look over his shoulder every day in fear of the world. he didn’t know how the public would react to him being back again, especially since he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up his facade now that it’s all crumbled since he met you.

maybe it was his lack of sleep that was making him vulnerable and a little delirious, but he shared with you that he felt like he’s changed. the luke that walked into camp half blood who was too scared to be himself in fear of rejection and failure was no longer there. a few months ago, he wouldn’t be caught dead like this, all soft and gentle for a girl. he couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to see a girl more than once. but with you, he couldn’t help it. the luke that he truly was became his default state when he was with you. all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and be with you for as long as you’d let him.

“you say that like it’s a bad thing, baby,” he grumbled, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “you don’t like it when i flirt with you?”

you rolled your eyes playfully, adjusting your head until you fully blocked the light from his face again. you laced your fingers with his, letting out a hum when he squeezed your hand. “i didn’t say that.”

“so, let me flirt with you,” luke said. “i like flirting with you. you blush every time i do it and i think it’s fucking adorable.”

“stop,” you whined knowing that the blush he was referring to was starting to show on your skin. maybe you could blame it on the heat, but you both knew that that would be a lie. it was because of him. it was always because of him. “you like teasing me, don’t you, castellan?”

“a little bit,” he admitted, scrunching his face up in a way that brought out the creases between his eyebrows. his lips curved into a lopsided smile. his arms reached out to snake around your waist, pulling you on his body as he laid on his back. he placed his hands along the expanse of your bare thighs as you situated yourself on his abdomen. your fingers played with the silver chain around his neck. luke massaged your thighs, sighing out, “i like knowing i have that effect on you.”

“me and half the female population,” you snorted, “as much as you act like you know just how amazing you are since you have a gigantic ego, i feel like you also don’t give yourself enough credit.”

luke quirked an eyebrow, “was that a compliment, five star?”

“don’t get used to it,” you smacked his shoulder lightly, making him let out a chuckle. his chest rumbled from under you as his hands made their way up your waist. luke’s hands were always warm. he had callouses on his fingers from playing guitar and bumps on his palms from lifting at the gym. there were characteristics about his hands that made you believe that you’d know his touch even if you were blindfolded. there was something different in the way he touched you, even in the most innocent ways, you knew when it was luke. there was a light in your brain that would go off every time he was around, like your body, mind, and heart knew when he was there.

“i’ll take what i can get,” he conceded.

“does it bother you that i don’t compliment you as much as you compliment me?”

“nah,” he replied, looking up at you. the sun was framing your face in a way that made his breath hitch. you looked ethereal like this. it was like you were a figment of his imagination. luke had to place his hand flat on your ribcage to feel you breathe just to convince himself that you were real. “makes these little moments even sweeter.”

“but you know, right?” you questioned, eyes not once leaving his own. a shadow of doubt flashed across your irises. “you know what i think of you?”

luke castellan had a way with words that left you speechless. perhaps it was because he was a songwriter, trained to string together words in a way that you could never achieve. he made a living by writing, by voicing how he felt, and turning it into art, into music. there were many moments where luke would say things so poetically that it made your head spin. he says things so casually, so easily like he didn’t just utter out the most romantic things you’ve ever heard in your life.

you envied him for it, a little bit. you wished you could tell him how you felt about him as easily as he said it with you, but anything you tried to say felt like it would pale in comparison. luke didn’t mind. you had your own way of showing him how you felt. it was in your touch, taking your time to admire his imperfections. it was in the way you kissed him, smiling so wide like you couldn’t help it whenever he would press his lips to yours. it was in the way you paid attention to him, the little things that he didn’t even realize he did.

“‘course, i do,” luke tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. he took his time bringing his hand back to your waist. he liked seeing you nuzzle your face into his palm as you kissed his wrist. “but i wouldn’t be opposed to hearing you say it, either.”

“i’m not good at saying how i feel,” you said, shoulder hunching as you spoke. it felt like you were letting him in on a secret that you’d never told anyone else. luke could feel his heartbeat in his chest. you dropped the poisoned mercury pendant back on his chest as you leaned down to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “i’m working on it, though. might just take me a while.”

luke smiled at you. his voice was earnest as he placed a kiss on the top of your head, “we got all the time in the world, five star. there’s no rush.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at his words, “we leave tomorrow, luke.”

“mhm,” he repeated, thumb running across your lower back. it made you shiver, the realization of his words hitting you. “like i said, we got all the time in the world.”

you pulled away from him, cradling his face in your hands as you placed a kiss on his lips, “yeah, we do.”

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you

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adorawritesalot · 8 months

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The Cafe

hi everyone! my first ever kpop one-shot (and my longest one ever)! spare me pls

pairing: widowed father!bangchan x cafe owner!fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of death, about five curse words, two idiots in love, overthinking, the L word, lmk if i missed anything

STORY UNDER THE CUT

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Chan was a regular at your cafe. And by regular you mean he comes by every day, 3:12 pm sharp. You would be stupid not to notice him; he’s too beautiful for his own good. His dark brown curls rested peacefully on his forehead, blissfully unaware of the effect they had on you, and his chiselled jaw looked like it could cut through diamonds. It didn’t matter if he was wearing a T-shirt or a coat, you could see his well-built body even through his clothes. He just looked so dreamy to you, and maybe that’s why you were thinking about him on your Sunday shift. One of the two days that he doesn’t come by the cafe. It was hard to wake up at the ass crack of dawn at the weekends long before Chan started going to your cafe. But ever since he first showed up in a black sweater and his hair unruly, asking for an iced americano to-go, waking up for your weekend shifts was even harder.

“You need a coffee.”

Snapping your head up quickly, you smiled at your friend tiredly, “Thanks, Hwa. Just what a girl needs at 9 am on a Sunday.” You quickly started making his drink to wake up at least just a little bit.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged, “you probably haven’t gotten many customers anyway. Had a long night?”

You turned around with a fake scandalised look on your face, making him laugh. “You make me laugh, Park Seonghwa. I have a child to take care of!” you cried out jokingly, flailing your hands around. It made him look around the cafe and ponder on how far you’ve come. He had known you for quite some time now, meeting you at one of the many college parties his friends dragged him to. Back then this cafe was real only in your imagination, and he can remember the mental picture of the cafe he had when you first told him about your dream quite well, seeing as it was standing right in front of him. Well, besides the autumn decorations on every surface imaginable. He felt proud of you, and he would come to this cafe even if the coffee sucked.

“I know, babe, but don’t you think you deserve to at least go on a date? And before you say something,” he put a finger up, making you turn back around, “maybe you can ask a hot customer, ‘cause I know damn well you don’t go anywhere other than your flat and the cafe,” he looked at the back of your head pointedly.

You keep your eyes trained on the coffee in front of you as you think of a certain customer. Obviously, you’ve thought about asking him out, but what if he was taken? He seemed to be older than you, and honestly, it would be a crime to leave that man single. And the second problem was even worse; you couldn’t for the life of you function properly when he was just on the other side of the counter. Yes, that may be because you haven’t felt the touch of another human being in quite some time, but you told yourself that it was just because of his stunning looks to keep your sanity.

“Your coffee’s ready,” you turned around, smiling at him sarcastically.

“You really don’t wanna talk about it, huh?”

“No, not really.”

He looked at you plainly in silence before softening up. “Just hit me up once something happens, please. Or even when nothing happens. You know that our door is always open for you, y/n.”

“Of course, Hwa. We still have to plan the sleepover, anyway. Now shoo before the Sunday brunchers start coming,” you laughed, and it made him check his watch.

“Oh god, I left Wooyoung in the car alone for fifteen minutes.”

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

3pm on an October Sunday had never felt as good as that day. Cleaning tables after a long day of being alone at the cafe mixed with your playlist playing softly in the background sounded like music to your ears. Even though it wasn’t by far the busiest day that the cafe had lived through, it felt like it. Your Sunday part-time worker texted you yesterday evening that he got the flu and could barely even stand up, so you told him to get well soon and then cried for an hour, like the responsible boss you are.

After you finished cleaning up, you set the cleaning timer on all coffee machines to 4pm, turned off all the lights, put on your coat and grabbed your stuff. Stopping the music, you looked at your phone, only to see 3:10pm written on it. That means you can still catch the earlier bus without running to the bus stop and then start that series you’ve been itching to watch half an hour earlier. You add a little skip into your walk to the door, opening it. Just as you stepped out, a body stepped right in front of you. Yelping, you step back slightly, looking up at the stranger who wanted to come into the cafe, only to find Chan standing right in front of you, in that black sweater of his that you saw him in for the first time.

He took a step back. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

You nodded at him with a laugh, “yeah, of course. I’m sorry, too. You just really scared me.”

He then looked at your hand, which was holding the keys to the cafe, and then inside the building behind you, seeing the lights off. His expression falls and a little frown makes its way onto his face instead. “You’re closing? I thought you were here ‘till 5 today.”

Your expression fell too, “oh my god. I forgot to put up the autumn schedule on Google,” he giggled a little at your expression, “in autumn and winter, we close at 3pm on Sundays. I’m so sorry, this is totally my fault. Do you still want coffee? The machines are not going to start the cleaning process until 4, anyway.”

He interrupted you with a laugh, “you really don’t have to apologise, it’s nothing. But, um,” there was some hesitation in his voice, “but would you, maybe, no pressure, really, I don’t want you to feel like you have to, um.” He looked down at his feet and then back up at you with a nervous smile. “Would you want to go somewhere? With me. If you’re not busy, obviously.”

You laughed out of shock, “Oh, um. What? I mean, really?” He smiled, his dimples on display, and nodded.

“Yeah, sure. Sure, I would love to.” Were you dreaming? “Do you want to go in, then? O-or-”

“No, no, I was thinking maybe, um, get street food and just go to the park around the corner? Because I don’t want you to spend time making something? Actually, scratch that, that’s just plain and stupid, maybe I should plan something fancier,” rambled Chan, combing his hand through his hair.

“No, I think that sounds good,” you said, maybe a little too quickly, “I mean, uh, yeah. Sure, sounds good. Perfect, even.”

“Okay!” There was that smile with the dimples.

“Okay,” you smiled up at him sweetly, “oh!” Turning around, you locked the door quickly before turning around. “Shall we, then?”

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The food wasn’t necessarily good, but you would honestly eat worse if it meant you could spend more time with Chan. You were sat on a bench, a first date friendly distance between your bodies. You’ve gotten to know random things about him in the past hour and a half; he is 30, just seven years older than you. You also found out that he works in the local firm that’s ten minutes away from the cafe, which is why he comes to the cafe at the same time every day, and that he likes to make music with his friends. What mattered to you more, though, was how attentive and awfully nice he was. Paying for your food, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, and actually listening to what you had to say came to him naturally.

“I’m sorry, y/n, but I’ve gotta be somewhere at 5, so I’ll have to go,” he exclaimed after laughing at your previous statement. His words made you check the time on your phone, seeing that it was, in fact, nearing 5pm.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t even notice it was already 5. Time flies by when you’re having fun, I guess,” you giggle at the hopeful look in his eyes once you said you had fun.

“I had fun today, too, y/n. I’m glad you had time for me. I’ve been meaning to ask you out for a while now, and I’m happy I finally managed to do it. You’re a great person and even better company,” he stood up and look at his feet, red tinting his ears.

“Chan,” you started, also standing up, “could I get your number before you go?”

He looked back up at you for the second time that day. He thought you wouldn’t want anything more with him, maybe just chatting when he gets his coffee, but that’s about it. He let his insecurities cloud his judgement. He thought you were the one who saved this date from being a complete disaster, not knowing that this was the sweetest date you have ever been on.

Maybe this whole dating thing isn’t as hard as he remembered it to be. Or maybe it’s just your presence that’s making it easier for him. He doesn’t know, but he thinks exchanging numbers with you could be a good idea.

And as you part ways with him, he waves at you with a giddy smile, dialling the 3racha group chat. You wave at him with a giggle and a bright smile, calling Seonghwa quickly.

“You won’t fucking believe what just happened.”

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

It’s been almost a month since your first date with Chan. And to be honest, you were in deep. You have been texting him almost all the time, and every time he would come by the cafe, he would stay a little longer, just to see you smile. You’ve gone on different dates in the past month, but your favourites were probably the museum and the aquarium date.

But today marks the day of the biggest, and in your opinion the most important, date so far. You will be going to a respectable restaurant, dressed in your finest clothes. Seonghwa told you, that he thinks Chan might finally ask you to be his girlfriend, something you aren’t too sure of. Sure, you’ve fallen for him, and you would love to think he’s in the same predicament as you, but your overthinking mind cannot help but worry.

Especially since he texted you at half past ten in the morning that he can’t go on a date today, because his work will probably keep him busy until late at night. So, you texted him that you understand and that you hope he doesn’t stay in too late, and then took a break to cry in the breakroom. Your mind was screaming at you from every corner of your brain. Why are you crying over this? It’s nothing personal, you’re sure, Chan wouldn’t do that to you, but you can’t help but worry. What if you are just another girl to him, while he is the main topic of your conversations with your best friend?

Trying to push those thoughts away, you got up from the floor and cleaned up.

At least your part-time worker doesn’t have to close by herself, you tell yourself to feel better about this whole thing.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Chan felt like an asshole. He accidentally put his daughter’s recital on Saturday instead of Friday in his calendar, so he made plans with you. Turns out, the recital is, in fact, not on Saturday. His daughter was talking about it all the way to the kindergarten, all while he was silently cussing himself out. What is he supposed to tell you? Oh god, what if Jisung and Changbin can't come today? Nari would probably stop functioning if she saw two empty seats next to Chan. And then her teacher, who already didn’t like Nari for some reason, would be mad at her. This was bad.

Then he remembers that he’s talking about Changbin and Jisung, the two guys who were by his side every step of the way. They wouldn’t miss Nari’s recital for the world.

You, on the other hand? He was planning on telling you everything today at dinner; from his daughter to his feelings for you. And now he had to call off the date. Driving to work had never seemed this long. His mind was running through all the possibilities. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he should’ve told you sooner. Chan was just too scared to say anything. You were probably the best thing that’s happened to him ever since the death of Nari’s mum. What would he do if he fucked this up, too?

Brushing it away as best as he could, he texts you that he won’t be able to make it to the date due to work and that he’s sorry. Because he truly was, and all he could do was hope that you wouldn’t take anything personally.

Thankfully, his day at work went by quickly. Nothing out of the ordinary popped up, and so he could leave peacefully at 3 pm. He really wanted to see your smile and get coffee, but he knew he couldn’t, so he drove past the cafe to Jisung’s place, where he would be picking him up. Thankfully, Jisung lived quite close, so the drive didn’t take too long. Chan pulled up to his friend’s house like he had a million times before, unlocking the car as he saw Jisung standing there.

“Hey, Chan,” he greeted enthusiastically, receiving a greeting back, “you excited?”

“Hell yeah. This is Nari’s biggest recital so far. I just hope everything goes well.”

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

“Excuse me, sorry, excuse me, sorry,” he muttered as he passed people to get to their chairs.

Changbin looked at all the parents around them, “Gods, when did these people even get here? I thought we were gonna be the first ones here.” He received an enthusiastic nod from Jisung.

“Well, we were, but then Channie hyung just had to talk to Nari’s teacher,” Jisung rolled his eyes jokingly.

“Sorry I care about my daughter.”

A beat of silence passed through the group. Changbin and Jisung held eye contact with raised eyebrows until Jisung averted his eyes to look at Chan, “you okay?”

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

All three of them knew he was fucked with that response.

“Is this about y/n?” Changbin asked, already knowing the answer.

The lights started to dim, “we’ll talk once the recital ends.”

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

He stood up, clapping proudly as he looked at his daughter. She waved at him with the biggest smile on her little face, and he knew he had to make things right. He turned to Jisung. “Could you go to Nari? I have to talk with Bin.”

Jisung nodded sombrely, seeing as he wanted to hear this conversation, but ran off happily to his niece.

Changbin sighed, “so, what did you do?”

And so, Chan tells him. Changbin knew that he hadn’t told you about Nari, but he didn’t know Chan wanted to tell you today. Chan tells him how he lied to you, and how it’s slowly eating away at his conscience. And mainly, he tells him, “I don’t want to love her, Bin. I don’t like what that means to me.”

“What do you think it means, Chris?”

“It means I have something to lose again, and I’m not strong enough for that anymore,” he whispers harshly.

“Well, if I can, I’ll tell you what I think it means,” Changbin started, “I think that means having someone who can help you bear all your problems. It means having someone who is here for you all the time. But mainly, it means having someone who loves you unconditionally, Chris. And from what you’ve told me, she’s great at all of these things. And she would probably be great with Nari, too. Nari would love her,” he paused, wondering if he should say it, “Nari will love her. But you gotta let her.”

“But, Bin,” Chan tried to reason.

“We both know she would want you to be happy. And if that means being with y/n, which I personally think it means, then she would want you to be with her.”

Chan finally looked back up from his shoes to his friend. Chan knew he was right. Changbin was always right. But what about you? Would you even want him?

“Stop overthinking and go tell her how you feel, please. I’ll cry if you don’t,” Changbin joked.

“But Nari-” Chan began, only to get interrupted.

“We’ll take her home. Go make things right,” he replied, pushing Chan to the entrance of the building. Chan only smiled before he took off, taking long strides to his car.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

You sighed as you wiped down the last table. It was almost 5 pm, which meant you were closing for the day. It wasn’t your normal schedule, but it was the annual maintenance day, so your customers knew about this.

All you wanted right now was a tub of ice cream, a cheesy romance movie to make you feel even worse, and three boxes of tissues to cry into. You knew this was stupid to cry about; after all, it was just a cancelled date. But what if this was just one out of many? Maybe he just didn’t want you anymore, or he never wanted you in the first place.

And maybe you could just cry over a man on a random Friday night.

You stopped the playlist sombrely, turned off the lights, and grabbed your things, seeing it was eleven minutes past five. You were supposed to be sitting in the best restaurant in the city right now.

A ring of the bell above the cafe’s door interrupted our train of thought. “Sorry, we’re closed for the day,” you turned around, only to see him standing there, dressed in that damned black sweater of his.

“Chan,” you breathed out, “what are you doing here?”

Chan froze for a second. He was finally here, after sitting in the traffic for ten minutes. He had plenty of time to think about what he was going to say and do. Problem was that he forgot all of it the moment he saw you. And so, his heart took over. He took quick steps towards you. He stopped just short of you.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I need to tell you so much, but first I want to apologise. I haven’t been truthful with you in every aspect and,” he took a breath,” I’m just so sorry. Could we sit down?”

And as he told you about his late wife and his daughter Nari in one of the cafe’s booths, you felt like a complete asshole for overthinking this. Of course he didn’t tell you, dumbass. You wouldn’t tell yourself either. A few minutes of silence were all it took for you to realise what Chan had just said.

“Chan,” you started, trying to find the right words as you stood up, “be honest with me right now, please. Do you see this thing between us going somewhere serious? I get that you lost your wife a few years ago, and I’m really sorry to hear that. And I get that you have a daughter, so you probably won’t want her to meet me this soon or anything, but-”

He kissed you.

He kissed you, and it felt like all the tension from your shoulders fell right between the two of you and then dissipated into thin air. His kiss felt like a breath of fresh air although you were losing your breath slowly, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your hands found their way around his neck as his hands traced your waist, bringing you even closer.

You then parted; you were both breathing heavily, but Chan’s face had that dimpled smile you’d fallen for.

“I’m sorry, I just had to shut you up, y/n,” he giggled, “I do see this going somewhere and I do want you to meet Nari as soon as possible, because I don’t think I can handle another day without letting you know I love you. I love you, y/n.”

The smile you had on your face could probably brighten any of Chan’s dark days, and he just wanted to kiss you again.

“I love you, too, Chan.”

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

THANK YOU for reading! friendly reminder that my asks are open!

asked to be tagged: @bangtancultsposts

#chan is a sweetheart #just a puppy #bless him #chan is a girl dad #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bangchan x reader #bang chan #changbin #han jisung #seonghwa #wooyoung #ateez mentioned #bangchan x y/n #bangchan x you #cafe owner au

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wisecrackingeric-2 · 2 months

Text

Word Count: 3,083

Summary:

“Luis still got nightmares. Even after living with Leon and Chris for years now, he still couldn’t shake the memories of Valdelobos every time he slept.

…But if there was one person that got nightmares worse than him, it was their son, Matteo.

And tonight was no different. So Luis did all that he could to comfort his little boy and get him back to sleep.”

Part 5 of my Dad! Leon/Luis/Chris AU is FINALLY up after so long!!! I started writing this waaaaaayy back last year and I’ve only JUST NOW been able to finish it, so I hope you enjoy!! :D

Full fic below the cut!!

Luis very rarely got a full night's sleep lately.

And he knew exactly why; but he’d never admit that. At least, not out loud. Not to Chris or Leon.

Because, truly- how could he? How could he possibly justify the way he tossed and turned in the sheets every night, leaving sweat stains beneath the pillow where his graying hair fanned? How could he possibly explain away the need for cold water after silently screaming into the cool night air at almost disgusting hours of the morning? How else was he supposed to show cause for the reasons behind why he almost fell asleep on his feet every time he had to get their Son ready for school?

How was Luis supposed to approach them and say, ‘Oh, yeah, remember how I used to get horrific night terrors after escaping Valdelobos? Yeah, well, they’re back, surprise!!’ When it’d been decades since he first made a brand-new life for himself with the two of them? Since the ache of a knife in his back was still fresh?

There wasn’t any way to explain it, Luis had decided. He just prayed to a god he no longer believed in that they’d go away eventually; for both his sake, and for the rest of his families.

He didn’t want Matteo to worry, after all.

His boy had been through enough.

Luis skimmed his ringed fingers along the raised timber of his home's walls; feeling his way through the darkness and scuffling his wheelchair ever so slowly as his eyesight slowly morphed the blocky and dark shapes into solid objects. His breathing felt all-too loud in his own ears and each creak of the boards beneath his wheels interrupted the thrumming of his heart; his prayers sent to nobody in particular that he wouldn’t wake anybody else up seemingly coming to fruition.

Luis should’ve been used to this by now. He’d lived in the shared suburban home with his two partners and his son for five years now. But no matter how many times he tries to memorize the corners and tables and lamps by heart, the back of Luis’ neck still stung with a sense of dread and uncertainty everytime he fumbled to put his reading glasses on and scuffled to the kitchen. He still felt his blood roar in his ears; and the aftershocks of whatever nightmare still left the grip on his cane unsteady and shaky.

But Luis wasn’t used to it. And he feared he never would be.

He was afraid this would never end.

Logistically, he knew that that was just his brain talking- never trust your mind after 10:00 PM, after all- but that didn’t mean the thought didn’t still sting. That didn’t mean he couldn't focus on the cold glass in his hands or the blueish light of the refrigerator blaring in his eyes through the cries of his mind's cruel taunts.

Even after taking a large sip of water, Luis still felt disconnected from his body. The bluish light reflected off of the counter in front of him and illuminated the kitchen with an almost uncanny glow, only adding to the feeling of unease that rested dormant at the bottom of his chest. Ready to leap up and snarl at any given opportunity. He stared at the cup in his hands, unblinking- just about ready to collapse on the couch or wherever else was nearest, until….

“Papá…?”

Luis spun around faster than he could think.

“Oh, Teo, bebé…”

If there was one person in the house that was struggling with sleep more than Luis was, it was Matteo.

For the life of them, none of the three men knew why. Leon had long-since retired from field work after rigorous mental health testing, and Chris took extreme caution in never divulging the details of his work to their son. So Matteo’s insomnia couldn’t have stemmed from his home-life or a knowledge of Bioweapons and the horrors they bring. Knowledge he didn’t have. Knowledge Luis secretly hoped he’d never have to have.

But even still, Luis’ precious son still had nightmares.

‘Nightmares’ was probably too kind of a word. They were worse than that. At only four years old, they were much, much worse.

Matteo would often wake up in the middle of the night having completely sweat through his clothes- his breathing clogged by his racing heart and his eyes dry from too many tears spent. At first, he’d venture into his Fathers’ bedrooms- wailing incomprehensibly about the things he’d seen during the night, desperately looking for some kind of comfort.

But no matter what Luis, Leon, or Chris ever did- there’d be no comforting him. They could rock him and sing to him and tell him he was safe all they wanted, but he’d never fall back asleep.

He’d stay up until the early hours of the morning, beyond terrified and shaking like a leaf by the time the sun rose.

To say he would be exhausted was an understatement.

The nightmares only became more and more regular, until they were an unshakable event of every evening. Matteo gave up on looking to his Fathers for comfort. Instead, Luis oftentimes found him lying in the bathroom floor, dead to the world, with his teddy bear in hand and his only explanation being;

‘The cold helps me sleep.’

The three of them had taken Matteo to so many psychiatrists- more than Luis could even count on his fingers. They all drew their own conclusions; each one more outlandish than the last. Some more harmful than others. At the very least, though, they were all well-meaning to some degree. But that didn’t mean they weren’t still wildly unhelpful.

Matteo had been prescribed with all sorts of medications- every pill you could think of, every injection under the sun- some doctors even prescribed more extravagant and herbal medicines, and some just told them to go to Church and pray for the best. Because, apparently, that was their best option.

Luis shuddered at the thought.

There were only so many doctors appointments and medications and psychiatrists a child could go through before it started to affect them more than the lack of sleep did- the stress alone of being torn between unfamiliar offices and the side effects of the medications were enough to have to pull Matteo out of school entirely for the time being.

It was isolating and hard for Luis, Leon and Chris, sure-

But they weren’t the ones who couldn’t sleep at night.

Or at least, Leon and Chris weren’t.

“Ssssssshhhhhh, está bien, Teo, está bien…”

Matteo practically bolted into Luis’ arms the second he opened his mouth, clutching onto the back of his shirt with his tiny little fists with such fervor it made Luis want to cry at the sensation alone. His son was shaking like a leaf; head buried in his chest with tears having long-since stained the fabric as little sniffles and sobs escaped from his throat.

It took every ounce of energy Luis had not to break down crying right then and there. He knew he had to be strong, he knew he had to comfort Matteo, but seeing his son- his entire world, the boy his life revolved around entirely- break down like this? It gutted him from the inside out.

He’d rather go through a thousand more knives to the back than hear him cry ever again.

“Don’t cry, bebé, don’t cry- I’ve got you, ¿si?” Luis brought a hand up to Matteo’s dark and tightly curled locks- stroking them with a feather-light carefulness. His free hand rubbed his back as Luis continued,

“Did you have another nightmare?” The question seemed obvious, but Luis breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Matteo respond with a little ‘mmmhmmm’. At least he hadn’t completely shut down.

“Did you get some sleep at least?”

“Y-Yeah..”

“See? ¡Ahí tienes!” Luis kept his tone upbeat, trying to pull any semblance of joy from the situation. At least Matteo was talking. That was a positive.

“At least you got a liiiiitle bit of sleep, ey? That’s more than nothing,”

Luis leaned down to place a kiss on Matteo’s head, smiling to himself as he heard a little chuckle erupt from beneath him.

“I’m very proud of you for falling asleep. So, so unbelievably proud- do you wanna know how proud I am of you?”

Luis gently pulled Matteo away from him, before stretching his arms out either side of him as far as he could reach, smiling brightly all the while.

“Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis proud!!”

That caused Matteo to go from grinning cheekily to bursting out into infectious and uncontrollable giggles- laughter that Luis was soon to follow suit in. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of his Son’s reddened and tear-stained face now upturned in that smile he just beyond adored, so much so that Luis just couldn’t help but grab Matteo again and pull him into the tightest hug he could manage.

He kissed the top of his head over and over and over and over and over again, warmth fluttering in his chest with every annoyed yet delighted squeal that Matteo let out.

“¿Lo entiendes? I will always be proud of you, Teo,”

Luis paused mid-sentence to give Matteo yet another peppering of kisses,

“Always. Nothing in this whole world could ever change that”

“But why?”

Luis paused.

“Why?”

“Yeah,” Matteo repeated like it was obvious,

“Why?”

Luis’ immediate gut reaction was worry. Which, to be fair, was his reaction to most things Matteo-related, that’s just how parenting was- but there was no mistaking that familiar pit growing in his stomach with every second that passed.

Luis knew the feeling better than he knew his own faith, his own family, and as much as he hated to admit it, his own son. It was all-consuming and a monster to battle even as he got older.

Which was why it scared him half to death when he heard familiar words come from his beautiful boy's mouth.

Where would he have learnt that? Where would Matteo have learnt that self-deprecating habit of insisting he wasn’t worthy of love? What made him think, even for a second, that Luis’ affection had to come at a cost??

Was it genetic?? Did Matteo pick it up from him??? Luis felt a little sick thinking about that possibility. Was his own son doomed to repeat that same cycle of constant guilt self-sacrifice and-

“Papá?”

“L-Lo siento, bebé,”

Luis snapped out of his own thoughts and back to reality. Back to a reality where his son was staring at him with big, expectant brown eyes- eyes that held no grief, no anguish. Just curiosity.

Right. Curiosity. That’s probably what it is. He was four years old and was already in what Chris affectionately called his ‘why?’ Phase. He’d ask why to everything.

‘Come outside and look how pretty the sunset is, Teo!’

‘Why?’

‘Because you only get to see it now!’

‘Why?’

‘Because the suns gonna set soon’

‘Why?’

‘Because the sun needs to sleep, Teo’

‘Why?’

It’d almost get annoying if it wasn’t so damn endearing.

Luis grounded himself; taking big, deep breaths and reassuring himself that his son would be OK.

“Weeelll… I’m proud of you because… that’s what fathers do”

“Why?”

Ah, there it was. He’d almost burst out laughing with relief if he wasn’t struggling with how to answer the question as simplistically as possible.

“Becaaaaauuuse fathers work hard to raise their kids! And, if I do say so myself,”

Luis leaned over to ruffle Matteo’s hair up, which earned him a little squeal of surprise.

“I raised a very talented, kind, beautiful and thoughtful little boy”

“Yeah but why?”

“So they can grow into even more talented, kind and thoughtful men when they get bigger.”

“No, like-“

Matteo huffed in frustration, waddling his way over to the side of Luis’ wheelchair to rest his weight against the knee and pick at the rubber on the wheels absentmindedly. Luis tried to hold back his visible amusement at Teo’s grumpy little face as he tried to express what he meant.

“Why do you, like… why- why do you like me so much? Why do you think I’m talented and… and- and all those things?”

Luis met Matteo’s eyes and sighed. He knew it was just curiosity- he was four, there’s no way he could understand the impact of his statements.

But as much as Luis tried to bury that guilt and misery deep down in his chest, it’d rear its ugly head once again and whisper in his ear to project those insecurities onto his son. He couldn’t do that. He never, ever wanted to do that.

Luis also didn’t want to leave Matteo with a shallow answer, either- even if he wouldn't remember it, he wanted to teach him something at least a little valuable.

“C’mere, Teo,”

Luis patted his knee and gestured Matteo over, scooping him up by his lower back and resting the boy on his lap best he could. He looked back up at his father with all the trust in the world, and Luis trusted himself to explain his past as gently as he could without giving too much away. Not yet, at least. Maybe when he was older.

“…When I first met your daddy and poppa, I was a much… sadder man. I’d been alone for a very, very long time, and I didn’t think I deserved their love”

“What does deserved mean?”

“To deserve something is to show somebody else that you’re allowed and should get the thing you want”

“But that’s silly”

Luis had to hold back his laughter.

“You’re right, it is silly”

“So why… um, why did you-“

“Why did I think I didn’t deserve their love?”

“Yeah”

Matteo’s ‘why’s’ were starting to get harder and harder to answer. So, so badly did Luis wish he could just cave in say ‘because I said so’, and leave the heavy conversations for another day, far into the future. But that wasn’t fair to him.

“I… truthfully, I don’t know,”

Luis settled with gently. Which made him realize more things about himself than he really wanted to.

“I was in a very not-nice place, all on my own, which made me think things that weren’t very true. But that’s not a story for tonight”

“Why not now?”

“It’s a bit scary,”

Luis kissed Teo on the forehead.

“But I’ll tell it to you when you’re older.”

“Promise?”

“Promesa,”

Luis reached out his pinky for Matteo to take, which he did with a smile, shaking his hand as much as his tiny little fingers could. His father laughed, leaning back before asking;

“Now, can you promise me something, Teo?”

“Yeah?” His eyes were eager to hear what he had to say.

Luis held his sons face in his hands ever-so gently.

“Never, ever think that you’re not deserving of my love. Of any of our love. And if you ever do think that, you come and tell one of us, ¿Sí?”

Matteo nodded against his hands, and Luis gave him one last kiss on the forehead.

“You will always, always be loved by us. No matter what you may feel inside, no matter what people tell you, we will love you to the moon and back forever and ever”

“Te amo Papá…”

Luis’ heart just about squeezed into a million pieces.

Teo leaned forward and rested his head in the crook of his fathers neck; curling up his hands below his chin and closing his eyes to fall asleep within seconds.

Luis held him there for as long as he could, rocking his little boy back and forth while pressing gentle kisses to the top of his head every so often and humming to himself against the kitchen echo. He didn’t even notice the footsteps behind him or the gentle sound of laughter at first before a hand was already running through his hair.

“Couldn't sleep?”

“Sí, Teo woke me up and-“

“I meant you, dove,”

Leon leaned over and kissed both him and Matteo on the cheek. Luis could just barely make out his features in the dark.

“I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Luis laughed dryly. “You read me like a damn book, don’t you, ¿cariño…?”

“I’ve known you for sixteen years my love,”

Leon gently scooped Matteo up in his arms and out of Luis’ lap, holding him against his side with his head resting against his shoulder. For a split moment, Luis couldn’t think of anything he’d prefer to be staring at in that moment.

“I can tell when somethings up…

“Ah, caught red-handed, ay?”

“You're not good at hiding it.”

“How dreadful.”

Leon laughed dryly and shook his head, focusing his gaze back to the little boy in his arms. The two of them stood in silence for longer than either cared to admit; waiting with bated breaths to make sure Teo was properly fast asleep in the blondes arms.

“Y’know,”

Leon spoke up all of a sudden,

“I get nightmares about Valdelobos too, sometimes”

“Wha-“

Luis shot his gaze back up at Leon, his mouth hung open a little in surprise.

“How did you…-?”

“I know it doesn’t compare to what you went through there,” Leon didn’t answer his question, instead choosing to continue with a faraway gaze.

“But if it brings you any comfort, that place haunts me to this day, as well.”

Luis fell silent. He didn’t know what to say. He almost felt a little childish- what was the point of keeping his emotions all bottled up if Leon was going to drop the bombshell that he felt the same way, too?

His husband must’ve read his mind or something, because a soft smile etched upon his face before he continued.

“Just promise me that when you’re ready, you’ll come talk to Chris and I about it, okay?”

Luis did his best to hold back a huff of laughter as his mind conjured up the memory of making a similar promise to Matteo just moments earlier. He appreciated Leon giving him the space to talk to them about his nightmares on his own terms. “Promesa, mi vida.”

Leon blew him a kiss before turning to take Matteo to bed.

“I love you, Luis. You know that, right?”

Luis chuckled, blowing both him and Teo a kiss back

“I know it as well as I know the sun will rise tomorrow”

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rxqueenotd · 5 months

Text

The Verdict- Chapter Seven

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, divorce. see prev. tags.

A/N: I am a woman of the people and with the reaction from last chapter, you guys can have this one early. I’ll be in NYC all week, so I’m not sure I’ll have the next chapter written until late next week. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy and I look forward to your reactions! (Someone make new Swann gifs, please, with Vincent’s hair)

Leah's arrival at JFK at noon left her feeling disheveled. Boarding the flight from Paris at around eight PM, she landed at JFK at two PM, with jet lag immediately taking its toll due to the time change. Craving a quick dinner, a speedy shower, and the comfort of a warm bed, Leah knew she had no time to waste as duty called. She promptly arranged for a car to take her to Brooklyn Heights.

Living just a few blocks away, Brooke's apartment was a convenient stop for Leah. With two toddlers and a six-year-old, she understood that asking Brooke to meet her for coffee was out of the question.

“Mommy, Auntie Leah is here!” The front door swung open, hitting the wall with a thud as a snaggle-toothed girl rushed into Leah’s arms. “Hi, sweet girl.” Balancing the girl as she entered, Leah closed the door behind her. Once the girl wriggled free, she beamed up at Leah.

“Aria, don’t wake your brother and sister,” Brooke scolded as she appeared from around the corner. Opening her arms, she warmly embraced Leah, her old friend.

“France suits you,” Brooke remarked, eyeing Leah playfully.

“I brewed the strongest coffee I had, knowing you must be exhausted,” Brooke said, leading Leah into the kitchen and seating her at the bar. “Not just from the time change, but from the hot lawyer you've been hanging around with.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Kate and her big mouth strike again.”

Accepting the coffee Brooke handed her, Leah leaned back, her chin resting on her hands.

“Tell me all about him. Distract me from this ridiculous divorce,” Brooke said, a twinkle in her eye.

Leah decided to cut to the chase. She briefly recounted the details of the case to Brooke, who seemed disinterested, before delving into her move-in with Vincent and the ensuing events. Speaking about it out loud felt surreal, as if she was observing herself from a distance, noting the absurdity of it all.

"It's... crazy," Leah confessed, taking a sip of her coffee.

"It's real," Brooke reassured her. "The way you light up when you talk about it says it all. You're practically glowing."

Leah buried her face in her hands, letting out an embarrassed groan.

"Are you going back to France?" Brooke inquired.

"Yeah," Leah confirmed. "I only came back to assist you with the custody agreement. I intend to see the case in France through to its conclusion."

"Ever the resilient one," Brooke chuckled. "Stepping out of your comfort zone at last."

"Took you long enough," Brooke teased.

They spent the following hour poring over Brooke's divorce settlement and custody arrangements, discussing her entitlements following the dissolution of her marriage and what she would be left with.

"So, you'll be there tomorrow, right?" Brooke asked anxiously.

"Yes, of course. It's normal for lawyers to attend mediation sessions. I just need to catch a flight at noon," Leah replied.

"My little jet setter," Brooke teased, eliciting a playful response from Leah in the form of her raised middle finger.

________________________________________

After ordering enough takeout for a family of five, Leah indulged in a quick shower, trying to reacclimate to life in her apartment. She felt like a ghost, haunting the familiar spaces she once occupied. The bed felt foreign, lacking the softness and comfort she had grown accustomed to in Vincent's bed. Thoughts of him consumed her, wondering if he was thinking of her too. Memories of their time together played on a loop in her mind, only to bring her back to reality, picturing him peacefully asleep. She questioned her longing for his arms and wondered why she had been denying the truth of her feelings for so long. She welcomed the embrace of sleep gratefully as it finally enveloped her.

At five in the morning, Leah found herself facing the day with weariness in both body and mind as she rose from her bed. Swiftly preparing for the day, she reached for the pre-selected outfit hanging in her closet. Satisfied with how she looked in the high-waisted slacks and neatly-pressed silk shirt, she effortlessly slipped into her red bottoms. Fashion had taken a backseat during the intense involvement in Sandra's case in France, but then, as she admired her reflection, she felt a sense of familiarity wash over her, reconnecting with her old self after a long time.

Stopping at a midtown coffee shop just before seven, Leah placed her usual order and waited patiently as the barista worked their magic. Suddenly, a wave of nausea swept over her, causing her to break out in a cold sweat. Her palms turned clammy, and she felt the color drain from her face as a tingling sensation spread. Pushing through the crowd of waiting patrons, she hurried to the bathroom, slamming the door shut just in time to drop to her knees and empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. After the ordeal passed, she rose unsteadily to her feet, wiping a cold paper towel across her neck to soothe herself. Her complexion was devoid of any color, while the tips of her ears blazed a scarlet red, a stark contrast to her drained face. Shaking off the episode, she emerged from the bathroom with a facade of composure, determined to carry on as if nothing had occurred. "Out of sight, out of mind," she reminded herself as she grabbed her order and briskly made her way towards the meeting place a few blocks away.

"You don’t look so good," Brooke observed as Leah joined her in the lobby.

"I had bad takeout last night," Leah explained, falling into step with Brooke as they entered the elevator.

"Was it Ming’s?" Brooke inquired, sharing her own unfortunate experience, "They nearly killed me with the worst food poisoning last year."

Leah shook her head in response, and Brooke fell silent. As the elevator doors slid open, they were greeted by an army of lawyers and Brooke's soon-to-be ex-husband, the epitome of an asshole. Leah couldn't help but wish she had managed to hold in the urge to vomit a little longer, just so she could unleash it on the whole group.

_______________________________________

As Leah swiftly tidied her apartment, preparing it for her return, she called for a car to take her to the airport. During the journey, her thoughts raced. Brooke's shattered marriage, torn apart by an unfaithful spouse, and the collateral damage inflicted upon her children, weighed heavily on Leah's mind. She pondered the cruel twist of fate where love, once a beacon of hope and joy, could spiral into darkness.

Vincent also occupied her thoughts, a figure of quiet strength and unwavering kindness. His gentle demeanor nurtured the connection between them with each touch, each embrace, each glance.

She mulled over what she knew of Vincent, what remained a mystery, and the things that seemed to divide them. Yet, in the midst of this contemplation, a spark of hope flickered within her, a tiny flame fueled by the warmth of his presence and the thought of being back in France with him.

Leah hurried towards the designated gate, her mind racing with thoughts. Despite her intelligence, she often found comfort in the saying "ignorance is bliss" and lived by the mantra of "out of sight, out of mind." As she deftly entered the corresponding number/letter combination into the CVS vending machine, she swiftly grabbed her selection and made a beeline for her gate.

Leah suddenly felt a wave of regret wash over her. She regretted moving in with him, getting involved romantically, and losing focus on her original purpose for being in France. The weight of her failures weighed heavily on her as she navigated through the airport and boarded the plane, almost like a zombie in a daze.

In the tiniest lavatory imaginable, Leah's hands shook as she ripped open the box, a sudden turbulence tossing her around like a forewarning as she gazed at the stick in her grasp. Completing her task, a sense of humility washing over her, she hurriedly washed her hands and concealed the evidence within her bag. Back at her seat, she drew a deep breath, preparing herself for what lay ahead. Nestled within her bag was her destiny—a small, blue plus sign, a souvenir from her time in France.

________________________________________

It was nearly seven PM when Leah landed in Paris and headed to Vincent's apartment. She expected him to be alone, so she was surprised when Joan answered the door.

"Bonsoir," Joan greeted Leah, opening the door wider for her to enter with her bag.

"Salut," Leah replied, glancing around the empty kitchen and living room.

"Where's Vincent?" she inquired.

"He's gone with Tim to the country house," Joan explained. "They're clearing trees from the main drive due to bad weather."

"Ah, I see," Leah nodded, walking into the space and heading towards the bedroom to drop off her carry-on and slip out of her shoes.

"You look nice," Joan complimented. "Did you win your case?"

"It was just a mediation," Leah clarified. "Divorce arrangements, custody agreements... all the unpleasant stuff."

"I'm glad I never got married," Joan admitted, motioning for Leah to join her at the table.

Leah poured herself a cup of tea and sat across from Joan.

"I understand," Leah acknowledged.

"My Vincent was always a stoic child. I don't think he ever truly needed a father," Joan reflected. "Maybe he did, but that ship has long sailed."

Leah listened attentively, chiming in, "I witnessed quite a battle during that mediation.”

"And you're scared, aren't you?" Joan asked, smiling knowingly at Leah.

"Of what's happening between you and Vincent," Joan elaborated.

"I'm not sure if it's fear or logic guiding me right now," Leah confessed. "Nothing seems to make sense."

"When I got pregnant with Vincent, by a worthless man, I had nowhere to turn. I was deported from Ireland and returned here. I had my parents, well, my mother briefly, but that's another tale. Despite being conceived in such dire circumstances and raised with all my quirks, he turned out to be a good man. I couldn't be prouder of him," Joan proudly stated.

Leah smiled at Joan's openness, slightly taken aback until Joan added, "But you're not pregnant by a worthless man, are you, Leah?"

Before Leah could respond, Vincent arrived, greeting her warmly as he removed his jacket and boots.

Joan hugged Vincent, giving Leah a knowing look before seeing herself out.

"What was that about?" Vincent asked, brushing Leah's cheek.

"Nothing," Leah replied. "Did you know your mother is psychic?"

Vincent chuckled, "Don't tell her that, or her ego will inflate even more."

_______________________________________

Taglist:

@weakling-grace

@bibistatic

#vincent renzi fanfiction #anatomy of a fall vincent #vincent renzi x original female character #maitre vincent renzi #vincent renzi #the verdict

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selfcare-with-senshi · 2 months

Text

How to care for your body - Hydration

The five fundaments of proper self care are eating enough food, drinking enough water, getting enough restful sleep, exercising, and your personal hygiene. If even one of these fundaments is out of balance for a while, you will feel unwell. That's why most times when you have a headache, feel exhausted or just unhappy, the first questions include whether you ate, drank or slept recently, when the last time you went outside was, and when you took your last shower.

It's annoying to hear, especially when you struggle with your mental health. But sadly, it's very important and very true - when you make a change in these habits, you will notice a difference in your wellbeing, even if it's small at first.

Most people struggle with consistently keeping these fundaments covered, so don't worry, you're not alone if you feel like it's a lot.

Let's take it step by step. And step one should always be hydration.

Start with drinking enough. Always, always start with drinking enough. Water is life. Without water, there is no life. Even our bodies are mostly water. So it only makes sense we need it the most out of the fundaments of self care.

The human body needs about 2 to 3 liters of water a day. The heavier the body, the more exercise you get and the more you sweat, the more water you require. If drinking water by itself is difficult for you, there are lots of ways to make it more appealing for you. I'll be listing some useful examples below:

Set an alarm every hour to remind you to drink a 250 ml glass of water. If you wake up at 8 AM for example, you'll have 2 liters by 4 PM, and 3 liters by 8 PM.

Use small drinking glasses, or cups you enjoy drinking out of in general. I personally find it easier and more appealing to fill a 80 ml glass three times in a row than to drink from a bigger glass.

Make it fun. I pretend I'm taking shots from my 80 ml glass for example. Or I pretend I'm a flower on the verge of drying out and I finally receive much needed rain. It doesn't matter if it's silly, as long as it helps you stay hydrated.

If you're like me and water makes you nauseous or gives you an icky feeling, I suggest trying healthy additions like water syrups, waterdrop microdrink cubes, making iced tea or fruit juice yourself, or if you crave the bubbles of a soda, I can only recommend purchasing a soda maker. You can regulate the amount of bubbles you want yourself - AND you can add syrup after if you want, too!

Other alternatives to get more water into your body include (but aren't limited to) sucking on ice cubes or eating crushed ice for example. Foods like watermelon, strawberries, cucumbers or milk also help with keeping you hydrated.

Keep a water diary or a log, if it helps you. Personally I feel stressed out by these things, but if it's helpful for you to write it down whenever you drank something, go ahead! I saw there are also apps designed like games that help you drink enough, like every time you drink water and type it in, a plant grows a little more... it's very cute, but like I said, stressful for me personally.

If you have any more ideas or questions, feel free to comment, reblog, or send me an ask :)

Hydration can be very difficult, especially when you're ill, busy, or dealing with sensory issues. If you can manage to hydrate well, your body will thank you. You're at a lower risk for UTIs, your body has an easier time flushing out toxins and illnesses, your skin will become clearer, maintaining your weight will be easier too... it has lots and lots of positive effects.

You can do it! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

#selfcare with senshi #senshis adventurer bible #hydration #drinking water #drink water #stay hydrated #hydrate #health #health tips #mental health #recovery #pro recovery

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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 11 months

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The things we leave behind: PERSISTENCE

In the last act of my postgame Headspace AU, Sunny and Omori finally, *actually* talk. You can start from Chapter 1 (of 6) here: ao3.org/works/45213322/chapters/113743957

Then nothing happens for two weeks.

...Well. That’s technically not true. Now that Sunny lives in the real world, things are always happening. Kel’s intramural basketball team wins a grudge match against the YMCA that Kel’s decided is their nemesis. Aubrey bums a cigarette off some girl in an alley and then drops off the grid for eight days before resurfacing to report, with clear regret, that “Helen still has a lot of growing up to do.”

Sunny squints at her. “You’re like... 20.”

“Maybe physically,” Aubrey sniffs. “But I’m wise beyond my years.”

Basil spirals into a full-fledged breakdown over an end-of-term deadline before very nervously accepting a few of Kel’s Adderall. Then he writes the whole paper in five hours and spends the rest of the night deep-cleaning Sunny’s kitchen and alphabetizing the spice rack and organizing all the treasures in the junk drawer by material and size. Which would be fine, until he wakes Sunny up at 4 in the morning to ask if the arthropod fossil should be filed under ‘stones’ or ‘organic materials.’

“I don’t care,” hisses Sunny, who’s 80% asleep and 100% incensed. “I hate you. If you ever take Kel’s meds again, I’ll kill you.”

Hero convinces himself that he bombed an exam and spends four days stress-baking before Sunny has to physically stop him, because the fridge is so full of banana bread and shortcake that there’s no room for actual groceries. (Hero gets an A. Obviously. This happens every month.)

Kel gets his ear pierced. Aubrey goes along to keep him company and walks out with two new tattoos. Basil starts experimenting with aquaponics. Sunny starts experimenting with gouache.

Things keep happening, but only when he’s awake. No more nighttime visitors. No more weird, reality-breaking dreams. Sunny thinks about Omori sometimes, but he doesn’t waste time worrying. If Omori needs him, he knows how to find him.

It might have been nice to find out how everything turned out. To wrap the whole ordeal up neatly, with a bow. But by now, Sunny knows that closure only exists in fiction. In real life, stories don’t end. They just… stop.

Then he starts seeing things.

And not just the usual things, e.g. street art, stray cats, sunsets. A specific thing. Something… behind him.

He’s in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, when his eye snags on a blur of motion in the mirror. Something long and lifeless, swinging from the rafters. When he whips around to look, it’s gone.

He’s lying awake late into the night, waiting for sleep to take him. He’s already taken melatonin and Advil PM and two CBD gummies and a Valerian tincture under his tongue, which is… pretty much everything a guy can do, sleep-wise. From there, it’s just about keeping your eyes shut and not looking at your phone. But Sunny hates doing nothing. He spent four years doing nothing but. And when he finally sighs and sits up, he can’t not see the figure looming over the foot of his bed. Lank black hair on dead white skin.

He’s getting up to get a glass of water. Or he’s skulking between high-rises on a storm-gray day, trying not to look at his reflection in the glass. He dips his brush into the palette and pretends he can’t see the eye glaring up through a pool of Eggshell White.

But he can’t run away forever. He’s not sure he’d even want to.

It feels increasingly clear that Mari (or Omori, or his subconscious mind or whatever) is trying to tell him something. He just doesn’t know what it is.

It would help if he could talk about it. Hero is unnaturally good at sussing out why Sunny’s feeling what he’s feeling, usually before Sunny’s even noticed that he’s feeling it. Not as good at Mari, but still very good. And Basil knows more than anyone about what’s going on in Sunny’s head.

But they would worry. Their nightmares might get a little more colorful; a little more specific. And it’s not like Sunny really minds. He’s always happy to see Mari.

####

Legacy is funny. It never looks the way you would’ve guessed, but it’s almost always right.

Take Mari. Mari’s legacy is:

Mischief (and with it, the growing conviction that she knows more than she’s letting on),

Unnervingly keen, loving attention,

Fucking with people for sport, and

Picnics.

Picnics are the big one. Like Mari, they sit at the junction between worlds. It’s the ideal middle ground between indoor kids and outdoor kids; between fragile, bookish readers and rough-and-tumble wrasslers. Even after seven years without her, the friends she left behind are still happiest stretched out on a grass-stained gingham blanket, with the wind in their hair and the sun on their skin.

Everyone picnics differently. Kel and Aubrey romp around in the grass, throwing a frisbee or racing to the nearest bodega to decide who’ll foot the bill for a family-pack of ice cream sandwiches. Basil likes to find a safe little corner to write in his notebook or read—anything that makes him look busy enough to speak up when he wants to, without feeling like he has to. Hero studies and studies and occasionally glances up to make sure Kel didn’t leave the cooler open again. And Sunny? Sunny sits back and watches the show. He yawns and rolls over and naps in the heat of the sun.

Speaking of which. Sunny stretches like a cat and flops backward, till his head comes to rest in the crook of Mari’s knee.

“Hehe,” she giggles, grinning down at him. “Silly little kitty. We should get you a bell. You and Mewo could match!”

Sunny wrinkles his nose. “It might wake me up.”

“A fate worse than death,” she says gravely. “Don’t worry, little brother. If anyone tries to bell you, I’ll bell them.”

Well. Good.

He’s about to close his eyes when a shadow falls over her. Long, dark. Cold. A gash of white in a pillar of black, its edges billowing in the breeze.

Sunny’s breath catches. Mari. But— But she was just—

…Oh. He must be dreaming. When he’s awake, Mari doesn’t go around hosting picnics. When Sunny’s awake, his sister is dead.

“Um,” he says. “Hi.”

His sister’s smiling face flickers. The phantom looming above her stretches longer still. “...Sun…ny… Can we… ta…lk…?”

Sunny sits up obediently. He always wants to talk to Mari.

“…ehe…” the shadow giggles. “Listen… Nee…d… you… Omori…”

Sunny stiffens. Does that mean that Omori really is in trouble? But—Omori knows where to find him. If he needed help, why wouldn’t he just ask?”

One huge, sideways eye creases with amusement. “…Like h…ow… you did…?”

Oh. Right. Sunny knows how to ask for help now. And even now, it’s rarely his first instinct. But when he was Omori’s age…

He shakes himself off. “What do I do?”

“...Eas…ier… if…” The phantom stretches out one long gray tendril of shadow. “…show… you…”

Her spectral flesh feels gelatinous against his skin, rubbery-cold as dragonfruit. “Show me.”

###

Sunny opens his eyes in a white void. Cold as the vacuum of space and just as endless. But this time, White Space isn’t vacant. He can hear murmured voices, the rustle of cloth and the hush of breath.

When he sits up, he finds three figures and seven eyes staring back at him. The weird thing is, not one of them belongs to Omori.

Ex-Chairman Hero is here, looking vaguely puzzled and majorly perturbed. Basil hovers by his elbow, wringing his hands worriedly. But his shadow is distinctly not wringing its hands. Its arms are crossed, its searing eyes narrowed with impatience. Behind them, the specter of Mari—or is it Something, now? Sunny makes a mental note to ask her what she likes to be called—still looms.

“Um,” Sunny says. It’s not exactly the welcome he expected. “Hi?”

Headspace Basil gives him an anxious little smile. “Thanks very much for coming. I think we could use all the help we can get.”

When he closes his mouth, his voice keeps on going without it. “Yeah, right,” it mutters.

Basil looks mortified. “S-Stop that!!”

“I just don’t see why he’d open up to some random guy if he won’t even see his best friend,” Basil’s voice says sullenly. The words seem to issue out from his shadow, without any intermediary vocal cords.

“Aw, c’mon, Basil,” Hero laughs. “We talked about this! Sunny isn’t just some guy. He’s Omori’s—um. He’s…”

Sunny listens with interest. He’d always wondered what Omori’s friends thought of him. (If they’d thought of him at all. Until recently, Sunny had never actually set foot in Headspace. And the only one who ever came to White Space was Omori. Sunny had sort of had the impression that no one else could come here.)

Hero clears his throat. “A-hem. Um. Sunny is— He’s Omori’s…” He frowns a little and leans back, looking up into Something’s sideways eye. “What did you say he was?”

“...I thought y…ou were su…pposed to be an… honor student…”

“It’s not like they put this on our exams!!”

The specter snickers. “…Don’t… think too hard… about it…”

Hero grins ruefully. “Yeah, that’s… not really something I’m good at.”

“…ehe…” the phantom giggles. It’s not the same as Mari’s laugh. Mari’s laugh was a cheeky little snicker, like a cat playing with its food—unless you caught her off guard, in which case it barreled out of her like a foghorn. This is barely an echo of that. But the mischief is the same. “...If you… insist… Just… think of Sun…ny as my… little brother…”

Hero frowns. “But Omori’s your brother.”

“…yes…”

“But Sunny’s not Omori’s brother?”

“…definitely not…”

Basil’s shadow snickers. “Trust your girlfriend on this one. You’re not ready for the big picture.”

“G-Girlfriend???” Hero squawks, his voice breaking halfway. “We’re not— I mean!! It’s not like we…” He trails off. On the ground in front of him, Sunny is raising his hand. “Uh. Yes? Sunny?”

“I don’t understand.” Of course Sunny is happy to see them all. Together, especially. But— “Where are Kel and Aubrey?”

The specter of Mari flickers like a moth trapped inside a projector.

Hero winces, too. “We’re, uh. Still working on that.”

“...Still… a little sc…ared…” Mari whispers. “...Not their fault… Doing their best…”

Sunny’s forehead furrows. It doesn’t make sense. Aubrey is famously fearless. And Kel never slows down for long enough to get properly scared. Basil, on the other hand…

Mari’s edges flutter with another whistling laugh. “...Stranger and… I… go wa-a-a-ay back…”

“The nerd’s only scared of stupid stuff, anyway,” Basil’s shadow agrees. “Being wrong, and getting in trouble and things. He’s fine when it’s actually scary.”

“A-hem!” Basil huffs, planting one foot squarely on his shadow’s two-dimensional face. “I-I think we can all agree that— The point is, we’re all just worried about Omori!!”

“Worried he’ll disappear again,” his shadow hisses. “That he’ll leave us all behind.”

“Which would be fine!!” Basil rushes to clarify. “I-If that was what he really… Or, I mean… If that was r-really what was best for him, then—”

“But it’s not,” his shadow says flatly. “What? It’s true. You don’t have to pretend like it isn't. He isn’t moving on, he’s just being stupid. Again. Running away like a scared little kid.”

“He is a scared little kid,” Sunny points out.

Basil’s shadow rolls its eyes. “Yeah, well. Join the club.”

…Fair.

But that still doesn’t explain what Sunny’s meant to do about it. If they just need someone to talk to Omori, there’s got to be someone more qualified. Like. Literally anyone else. There’s a reason that Sunny’s friends are so talkative. If you put two wordless, socially stunted weirdos in the same room, nothing ever happens.

“...N…ot about… what you say…” Mari’s ghost whispers. “...No one else can… get inside… Only him…”

Ah. Okay. He’s starting to see the larger picture. Sunny might be worse at talking than anyone else in this room—and that includes the sentient nightmare who can barely fit two words between a sea of ellipses. But he’s also the only one here who arguably is Omori. (A part of him. The rest of him? Whatever.)

“Okay,” he sighs. “I’ll try. But. I’m open to suggestions.”

###

Omori is holed up in what used to be Sweetheart’s Castle.

Not that Sunny has any idea what that means. Omori said something about “getting rid of it,” but… what? Even by Headspace rules, it’s a little hard to swallow. Weren’t there people inside? Sprout moles are one thing—their sentience is very much up for debate—but did Omori remember to flush Rococo out of the basement before wiping it out of existence?

…There’s only one way to find out.

Sunny turns to face the others. “Any ideas?”

Hero practically trips over himself in his haste. “I-I made some soup!!! It’s, um. It’s… the same kind Mari used to make.”

“...Tell him… I love him…” the phantom whispers.

Basil squeezes his eyes shut. “Tell him I miss him so much!!!! I— There’s no pressure, it’s okay if he still needs—but we just!! I don’t know what to do without him!!!”

“Tell him we’re pissed,” his shadow hisses. “He can’t keep pulling this shit. There’s a limit to how many times we’ll—”

“Shut UP!!!” Basil screeches. “You know that’s not true!! T-Tell him we’re— W-We’re not going anywhere!!!”

“...but… don’t fe…el any… pressure…” Mari’s ghost whispers. “…might not even… get inside…”

Sunny snickers. Cool. Got it. Very helpful.

He throws back the doors—

—and steps into his living room.

(No, Sunny reminds himself. Not his. Just a room, now. Just a room where he used to live.)

Omori’s hideout isn’t a palace or a prison. It’s just a normal room. Beige carpet. Beige couch. Beige walls papered over with photos, so so so many photos. School pictures and Christmases and family portraits from a shop that’s long since shuttered, all stiff stances and smiles with too many teeth. But afterwards they went to All Star Burger and Sunny got a milkshake for making it through the whole session without shutting down or crying. Mari got one, too, just for being Mari. She deserved a million milkshakes. Eighty more years of milkshakes, at least.

The stain on the carpet. The way the lamp always flickered, no matter how many times you tightened the bulb. Mari said it must be haunted. But when Sunny ran into her room crying, she didn’t yell or send him away. She just told him, gently, that ghosts are really only people. Just lost, lonely people. And when they act out, it’s not because they want to scare you. They’re just afraid of being forgotten. They just want one last chance to be seen.

Mari, Mari, Mari. Everywhere he looks, there’s so so so much Mari. Gap-toothed and beaming, holding out the stag beetle she caught all by herself. Standing stick-straight in front of the concert piano, prim and well-groomed and stiff with fear. Dancing. Laughing. Carrying her baby brother on her back even when her knees buckled. For years after Sunny should have been too old for it, Mari never minded carrying him home.

“What are you doing here?” a voice asks. His own voice, ten years out of date.

Sunny jumps. He’d almost forgotten why he came. “What are you doing here?” he counters, for lack of anything better.

Omori looks down at himself, then back up. “…Sitting?”

“Right. But. Why here.”

Omori rolls his eyes. “White Space isn’t ours anymore. I guess nowhere is. The others kept bugging me. I just want to be alone.”

Sunny frowns. “You hate being alone.”

“You hate being alone," Omori says dully. "I don’t know what I hate.”

…Oh.

“And anyway, I’m not alone.”

Sunny’s forehead furrows. He follows Omori’s gaze to the corner of the room, where there’s a heap of old laundry scrunched against the wall.

—No. Not laundry. Mari. Not as she was, but as she is. Dead gray flesh mottled with rot. Crumpled limbs stacked like kindling. Empty.

“I made this place,” Omori announces. “Like you made everywhere else. You made a million miles of light and life and I made one boring room. I couldn't even figure out the TV. I tried, but it’s only static.” He looks up at Sunny, stone-faced. “Did you put anything good in me at all?”

What is he supposed to say to that? “Your friends seem worried…”

“Your friends. I don’t have any friends. Just hand-me-downs.”

Maybe. “They’re still worried.”

Omori shrugs.

Sunny shifts his weight uneasily. Omori isn’t giving him very much to work with. “You’re—um. You’re… not having a good time.”

“No.”

Then why are you here? “Then…”

“Why did you leave?” Omori asks abruptly. The words short and sharp. “Everything was fine before you left. Kel was never busy, and Aubrey never picked on us. And Hero was happy. And Basil was always okay. And—” He digs his nails into the arm of the couch, forces the name through his teeth. “Mari was. Alive. Mari was alive and she was perfect. Everything was perfect.”

Yes. That’s true. Sunny remembers.

Omori’s face darkens. “I know you," he spits. "You can fool them, but you can’t fool me. I don’t care how many stupid piercings you get. Out there you’re pathetic. Just some loser shut-in freak who’s too afraid to be alone. You think because you can talk now, it means you’re doing fine? You’re not fine. You’re still a freak. And you’re still a murderer.”

Sunny nods. Why would he argue? It’s the truth.

“So—why?” Omori grits out. “Why go back there? Why would you even want to?”

Oh. Hm. It’s an interesting question.

Sunny takes his time, thinking it over. There’s no use trying to answer right away. A half-baked answer won’t do Omori any good, and it might upset him even more. You can’t just throw a slurry of wet flour in the oven. You have to give it time to rise.

…Why did Sunny go back? It wasn’t just that he was dying. He’d been dying for ages, for years and years and years. He knew he was dying and it didn’t scare him. He used to think about it sometimes. It sounded… peaceful. So it’s not as though he was running away from the dark. He must have been moving toward something.

A lot of it was Mari. Obviously. Always. Was it ever even a question? Mari was the catalyst for everything. She’s the one who taught him how to be a person, and then a decent person. Before her death and after. She crawled out of the grave to pound on his door and remind him to be brave.

But it wasn’t only Mari. It was just—everything.

Sunny opened the door and everything was different. Everyone was different. He’d stepped into the last act of a story that no one had bothered to tell him. His friends looked like strangers. Everything that should have been familiar felt alien and strange. There was so much that he didn’t understand. So why did he decide to stay?

Part of it was just concern. Love and fear and the guilt that blooms from the marriage of the two.

When he first laid eyes on Basil, Sunny didn’t even recognize him. Basil had always been brittle, but now he was broken. Bloodshot. All the meat chewed from his bones. He shuddered and twitched and his hands flinched around in violent little jerks, like a fledgling flung from the nest before it’s finished growing its pinions. Too weak to fly, but too afraid to die.

Basil moved like breaking glass. Like breaking bone. He looked at Sunny with a million words trapped under his tongue. Civilizations rose and fell behind his eyes. Comedy, tragedy, catharsis. What had made him like this? Could it really have been Sunny?

(No. Yes. Sort of. But Sunny didn’t know that yet. He wouldn’t find out till there was only one day left.)

But it’s not as though Sunny faced the truth for anything as noble as concern. Sunny is many things, but he isn’t noble. He’s pragmatic. Realistic. (Selfish.) He protects his friends because he loves them. He loves them because it makes him feel good. He knows that he’s nobody’s hero.

So it wasn’t only worry. He was curious, too. About Aubrey, especially.

Aubrey. Seeing her was a shock to his system, a lightning-strike straight to the brainstem. He’d remembered her fussy, unflinching. Brash, but not insensitive. Forceful, but never cruel. The girl he met in the park… It couldn’t be Aubrey. How could it be Aubrey? She was wild with hate. Her eyes burned coldest when glaring at him.

But Sunny had trusted Aubrey. She was his compass, his focus. The one he could trust to speak from the heart. Aubrey was true to the bone. What could have made her like this?

(Sunny, Sunny, Sunny. Everything she lost and kept losing, it was all because of—)

—But he’s getting carried away. And anyway, that can’t have been the reason. Sunny didn’t have to go outside to hate himself, or blame himself. He was doing a perfectly adequate job of that all on his own. So then, why?

Ohhh, he realizes. It’s because— “It was fun.”

Sunny confronted the truth—the searing torment of an unbearable reality—because he was having fun. Fun! While he was awake! When’s the last time that he could say that?

When Kel knocked on his door, Sunny was, truth be told, probably not taking very good care of himself. Not being altogether kind. He used to think that he liked himself well enough, when Mari was alive. And then she died, and Sunny realized it was only ever Mari. Mari had loved him, and Mari knew everything, so it stood to reason that he must have deserved it. He’d felt entitled to all kinds of kindness, when he was Mari’s little brother. But when she was gone—and after what he’d done—

And then he opened the door and Kel beamed at him like a living, breathing sun. Kel took him by the hand and drew him out into the light and then acted like Sunny was the one who’d done something amazing. He looked wildly different, a hundred feet taller and stronger and more beautiful, and somehow he still felt exactly the same. And hanging out felt exactly the same.

But everything else was so new! The town thronged with faces that Sunny’d never seen before, or that he’d known and then forgot. He walked up to a million strangers and made Kel do all the talking, just like he used to when they were small. And even though Sunny had spent the past four years rotting inside, somehow Kel had grown more confident than ever. He was just as utterly, instantly at ease as Sunny remembered.

You could make a sort of game of it. Pushing Kel’s buttons, pushing your luck. Pressing at the boundaries of his comfort zone to see where they would break. Of course Kel could find rapport with the anxious artist drawing landscapes in the park, or the boy on the bench with the dreamy green eyes. But what about those fashionable newlyweds lost in the throes of choice paralysis? Or the bearded old weirdo muttering to himself in the hardware aisle?

Sunny walked into the homes of total strangers just to see what Kel would say. He wasn’t doing it to hurt him. It was like Mari hiding spiders in Hero’s desk. It’s just so exciting, finding out what someone’s going to do. Never knowing what’s going to happen next.

“So that’s it?” Omori demands. “That’s why you left. Uncertainty? Surprise? You left because you wanted to lose control?”

Hm. Sunny wouldn’t have put it like that, but… yeah. Maybe, yeah. It sounds sort of right.

“But that isn’t fair!” Omori hisses, flaring hot. “You made me to protect you from change, and then you went and changed into someone who didn’t even want that!”

Sunny frowns. “Do you want to change?”

“No!!”

Hm. Maybe that was the wrong question. “Do you… want to want to change?”

“No!! Or—” Omori hesitates. “I—don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know if you could be here if I didn’t.”

…Hm.

“The others,” Omori says shortly. “They’re—different. From how you made them. They’re not just our friends anymore. They’re, like. People.”

(Ideally friends are people, but that probably won’t be very helpful right now.)

“It’s like…” Omori trails off. “Like they’re not bound by what happened. Or who they used to be. I don’t even know if Mari is our sister anymore, or if she’s just—” He slams one fist against the arm of the couch, burying his knife to the hilt in the faded upholstery. “I don’t know how to say it.”

Sunny knows how that is. “Just say whatever. Sometimes some of it is right.”

Omori lapses into silence, but Sunny knows how that is, too. He sits on the ground and waits.

A few minutes drift by before Omori opens his mouth. “…That story you told.”

Sunny blinks.

“About pissing yourself.”

Ah. Naturally.

Omori huffs a breath. “I don’t remember that.”

Well… of course not. When Sunny was in first grade, Omori didn’t exist.

“I’m supposed to be you,” Omori mutters. “Or, something that used to be you. A piece of you. Whatever. But I don’t even have any of your memories. I don’t remember growing up, or coming here or anything. I’ve been trying and trying, but the first thing I remember is just empty white. And a black hanging bulb. And hearing someone crying.”

Sunny frowns. “Do you want my memories?”

“No! I don’t know! I just want—anything! To know anything! What I’m supposed to be, or—who I’m supposed to…” He trails off. “I just want to know what I’m for.”

“I’m not sure people are for anything.”

“Maybe where you’re from,” Omori scoffs. “Not here. Anyway, I’m not a person.”

There’s a lot that Sunny doesn’t know, but that definitely doesn’t sound right. “You’re—”

“Don’t argue,” Omori spits. “I know what people are. They feel things, and grow, and—grow up. That’s why you left. Isn’t it? Because you wanted something real.”

Sunny hesitates. That’s probably true, but… it’s not the whole truth. But he doesn’t know how to say it.

Omori barks a laugh. “You made it so I couldn't change, and then you changed into someone who didn't want that. Not that I cared,” he adds, bitterly. “I still had my friends. But now they’re changing, too. And I thought… If I brought your stupid friends here and made them face themselves, like we did, then… maybe everything could go back to how it was. But it didn’t. They’re still changing. Everyone is changing, except me. Because that’s how you made me.” He bares his teeth, ablaze with sudden fury. “It isn’t fair! I hate you! I should hate you forever and ever! Till you die and ever after!”

For a second, Sunny is scared that he’s going to get stabbed again. But it only lasts a moment, and then Omori collapses back into his seat.

“After you left,” Omori says. Leaden, resigned. “I. Missed you. Isn’t that stupid? It’s not like you were good company. All you ever did was lay around and cry.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Sunny says quietly.

“Hah. Right. Of course you’d want me to be as pathetic as you. I’m just a memory. Just a scar over something that’s already healed. Being here probably feels nostalgic.”

That’s… not entirely untrue. But saying so would probably also not be very helpful.

“You threw me away and I can’t even hate you,” Omori says. “Or resent you, or—miss you. Because that’s not how you made me. And even if I could, I—” He has to force the words through gritted teeth. “—don’t. Want to.” He barks a laugh. “All you ever gave me was your ugliest, broken-est parts and I still won’t throw them away, because it’s—all I have left. Because I don’t want to lose you. Even after you threw me away.”

“I didn’t throw you away.”

“You—” Omori trips over his tongue. “—What?”

You can read the rest of the finale here: ao3.org/works/45213322/chapters/129661372

#omori fanfic #headspace au #omori spoilers #timeskip #omori sunny #omori #closure #no ships

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honeysucklepink · 2 years

Text

Covid Day 3 (apparently? What happened to the other days? I’ll tell you under a cut cause damn I’m long-wimdy):

Day 0: Thursday, when I started having symptoms (scratchy throat, sinus congestion, achy joints though to be fair one of those is a jammed up finger from my fall two months ago, and a temp of 99, which for me is actually a bit high). Went to work anyway LIKE A MORON, but stayed closed up in my office. About noon, when no one showed up to my online workshop (one person tried to login on mobile twice then gave up) and I realized I could barely get through it anyway, I took a Covid test I keep in my desk drawer--negative. Okay, so maybe the flu? Even though I had my flu and covid booster a few weeks ago, maybe it’s a strain they didn’t catch? I went to student health. Did I tell you my campus has declared we are “post-covid” and they aren’t even doing masks? And now you need an appointment, my primary doc had the week off, and the lady said “oh it’s probably just this bad cold that’s been going around anyway” *GGGRRR* I say fuck it, call it a day, run to Walmart to grab some meds and soup and decide I’m taking Friday off too.

Day 1: Friday. Still feel like crud, though the cough is starting to be productive at least, the temp is up and down but mainly in the upper 98-99 range. Sit in virtually on a faculty meeting, then a phone meeting with the estate attorney re: Dad’s will. Hubby is in a tree stand all day so I take care of myself. Fix some veggie beef soup and a roll for lunch, PBJ for a snack, and some stir-fry Hubs made the night before for dinner. Plus LOADS of ginger tea with honey and lemon. Hope I’m improving by Saturday because a work friend is having her “Birthday/Halloween/Breast Cancer in Remission” party tomorrow night and my Coach Beard costume is on POINT.

Day 2: Saturday. Fuck me. I wake up SWEATING, burning up. My temperature is now 100.0 (Allie Brosh gif “no, I wanted the opposite of this”) and I decide “fuck it, I’m taking another Covid test.” Well screw me sideways, for the first time since March 2020 when all this shit started it finally got to me. I text Hubs “DON’T COME IN HERE” and he texts back “LET ME GET THE FLAME THROWER” (haha very funny). Instead he brings me coffee, toast, and eggs. Then I ask him three separate texts for 1) apple butter for my toast 2) Crystal hot sauce for my eggs and 3) a glass of orange juice. Hey it’s the least he can do after the flame thrower quip. Fortunately there is an urgent care open until 4 pm down the road, so I go there, follow protocols, they don’t give me another test (apparently the home test positives are pretty accurate, they are more likely to give you false negatives). Interestingly they do not recommend paxlovid at this clinic, especially with my high blood pressure. They give me a shot to start my antibiotic/steroid boost, I run pick up a bunch of meds and some McDonalds, and hunker down in my isolation chamber and proceed to watch my Ole Miss Rebels end their seven-game winning streak. Joy. Hubby brings me soup and a roll and some gatorade.

So that makes today (Sunday) Day 3. According to CDC guidelines, I should isolate 5 days from the start of my symptoms, then so long as I’m feeling better after Day 5 and my temp has been normal for 24 hours, I can go back to work wearing a mask for at least five more days (though I will probably wear a mask for the rest of my life. I’ve realized I don’t like my lower face; my teeth are crooked, my lips are oddly scarred from years of cold sores, I’ve developed a complete lack of a chin which now blends into my neck...yeah I’ll wear a mask forever. Which would be easier if I didn’t also have to wear glasses)

#covid-19 #now back to my regular shitposting

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fancybelieverdinosaur · 2 years

Note

Disclaimer: this is joking! It's a regular weekday evening after training at su Hardersson casa. Magda has cooked and Pernille has done the dishes after dinner. Magda starts to write a new column and her girl watches something on tv.

P: I'm going to bed early. Training was so hard today, I feel exhausted 🥱 Magda: Ok baby, I'll just finish this up. Pernille does her evening routines and falls fast asleep the second her head hits the pillow. Magda the perfectionist thinks long and hard on how to best express herself on a somewhat sensitive topic. Magda five minutes later, thinking to herself: I need to ask Pernille real quick what she thinks. Wonder if she's awake? The bedroom lamp is still lit, she must be reading a book.

Magda, shouting in a normal voice from the living room: Baby I need your opinion on this. P: *silence* 😴 Magda: Pernille? P: *more silence* 😴 Magda, now screaming from the top of her lungs: PERNILLE!!!! 📢 P, woken up abruptly: WHAT? WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? I'M SLEEPING! 😡 Magda ashamed, walking to the bedroom door entrance: You were... sleeping? Omg I'm so sorry! I thought you read a book. The light was still on. Thought you didn't hear me call for you because of the ear plugs. Please don't be mad at me! I just needed your help 🥺 P: I fell asleep so fast I didn't even have time to turn the lamp off or put in my ear plugs!

Magda: Are you angry? 😭 P: NO! I'M JUST TIRED AND WONDERING IF IT'S POSSIBLE TO GET ANY SLEEP IN THIS HOUSE. IF IT ISN'T SNORING AND HEAVY BREATHING IT'S YOU SCREAMING! Magda: I'm sorry baby! I'll leave you in peace now so you can go back to sleep 😭 P: It's too late for that! I'm wide awake now. Magda: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please forgive me 😭 P: STOP APOLOGIZING! 😡 Magda: 😳 😭 😭 😭 P, sighing: 🙄 You big doofus. Let's go to the living room for some Netflix and chill. It's just 8 pm. Make evening tea? Magda: 🥲 🥰

Pernille falls asleep on the sofa and Magda is scared for her life to wake her up. She tucks her girl in under a blanket and as silently as she can leaves the room closing the door behind her. The next morning Pernille wakes up on the sofa as Magda prepares breakfast. Magda: Did you sleep well? P: I guess but why did you let me sleep on the sofa? It's not good for my back. Why didn't you wake me up? Magda: I-I-I... I didn't dare to after what happened earlier in the evening 😅 P in a frosty voice: It's. Not. Good. For. My. Back 😠 Magda: I'm sorry! P: Stop apologizing! Magda: 😭 P: Oh ffs!

Rest of the morning Pernille is in a foul mood and Magda is a wet little puddle of 🥺. On the way to training Magda has bawled since they entered the car because Pernille has barely uttered one word to her. P, as they see the facilities in the distance: Get yourself together captain Chelsea! We're almost at work. Magda: I'm sorry! P: Stop apologizing and keep driving woman! 😡 Magda: 😶

On the player parking lot they meet Zecira and Sam who arrive at the same time. Sam: Good morning gu... *interrupts herself after one look at Pernille's and Magda's faces* Zecira: Uh, you two ok? Did something happen? P: Don't ask 🙄 Magda: 😶 Sam and Zecira: 😮 Sam: Board games? P: Just don't Sam. And the answer is no 😠 Sam: 😅 Zecira: 😬 Magda: 😞

Honestly, you should win a writing competition with this. 🤣 Sooo good. The drama.

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kaerichan-yatta · 2 years

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hi everyone~! i'm back, feeling a bit better and with normal thoughts now, finally.

But what exactly happened?

(THIS WILL BE A REALLY LONG POST🥹🫶)

| Narcolepsy

As some of you know, I have narcolepsy (inability to regulate the sleep-wake cycle) which caused me A LOT of visible and auditory hallucinations, su1c1dal thoughts, /// thoughts, and a lot of things like this.

During my break, this happened infinite times. I woke up hearing disturbing music, only for me to realize it was loud as heck but just in my head.

I kept falling asleep at 1 am until two nights ago, when I starter feeling dizzy as never before and I almost fell asleep on my plate during dinner. One of those moments that I like to call "when I don't even know where's left and right".

I fainted for two days in a row during class cause my brain was completely off and I couldn't keep my head up straight. My eyes literally gave up and I collapsed onto my desk. My teachers got very scared too (I kind of blame myself?? But I understand them tho, I'm really sorry).

Yesterday, I fell asleep around midnight after I took a painkiller cause tennis is "breaking" my muscles (as I don't get proper rest, my muscles are weak as heck and sometimes respond to a ball with the racket is really difficult for me, let alone running to catch it).

Tonight, I have to finish studying Latin (I want to voluntarily go to an interrogation to recover a very bad grade) and then I plan to go to sleep around 11 pm.

~~~~

| Studies

And now, let's switch to the (probably) worst part of this post.

My studies got way worse, unfortunately. I kept getting bad grades for almost a week, I saved myself with a decent grade but only in some subjects.

That's why tomorrow I want to volunteer to the interrogation. I plan to get a 9 (which -if you don't know- one of the best grades you can get) and recover a 3 (one of the worst grades you can get).

I have to be honest with myself tho, I really didn't study for the test, that's why I got a 3.

I realized a bit too late that my study method wasn't good, so I'm trying to improve and change to get better grades.

I'm planning on not having recover lessons in the summer, nor during the change of the semester, so I'm focusing even more.

~~~~

| Asthma

Definitely better!

I didn't have to use Aerosol for too long, I only had to do 2 rounds per day and I still managed to breathe properly even during panick attacks, so it improved a lot ^^

~~~~

| My Bully??

Ok, this is probably the funniest parte of this post.

Cause this involves tickles.

So, after speaking to my parents about this, they talked to the teacher (I'm very shy when it's about talking to an adult I'm not in confidence with, I never talked to a teacher about a very serious problem) and the teacher called my bully here to talk to me.

We had a little discussion where I explained how his videos affected me and my mental healt/condition.

He had no idea my hallucinations could go so far that could lead me to think about ending my life.

He apologized. I could say ue begger for forgiveness cause he really looked sorry, and I forgave him in the end. And strangest but sweet part, we even became friends after three days.

So as we started talking more, he asked me

"But seriously now, are you still mad at me?"

That's when I understood he really was sorry for what he did, but deep inside he was also afraid that I would never really forgive him.

"No, i'm not mad anymore. Honestly, i've never been 'mad', but just upset about it"

But he still looked sad. So, what did I do? Of course duh🙄, I tickled him!

And I'm telling you I've never thought he could be so cute and ticklish. His giggles are the cutest thing and his worst spot is probably his neck (AHHHHH TICKLISH NECKS ARE SO CUTE).

So I managed to get him happy again and he even gave me a hug aw <3

~~~~

So yep, that's all ^^

My timer is currently at five months and fifteen days without ///ing so I'm really proud of myself, and I started loving my body more than before <3

Thanks to the two anons that sent me kind asks about how I was doing and wished me happy things <33!!

Stay safe & hydratated! ^^

Bye~! <33

#kaeri talking #sleep trouble #///mention #<3

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surviverp · 1 year

Text

JANUARY 2ND, 1966 — WINTER, 2039

stroke mention tw

❝ in a world overrun by infected, dying a natural death is almost seen as a miracle. and that's how our very own eugene linden went out at 73 years old, a quick stroke claiming his life. one of our leader's oldest friend, there is nothing that he wouldn't do for this community, whether it's picking up a sick patrolman's shift or helping out in the kitchens when we were all feeling a little bit overwhelmed, he would do everything with a fun word and a welcoming smile but he was just as fiery as the next person. you will never quite meet anyone like eugene, a tinkerer of all things electronic and someone that you never knew what he was up to. i remember when he and my father met and, just like that, he was a part of our family and someone that was there to pick jackson community up when henry couldn't. he always said how he wanted his funeral to go and we will be honoring that wish. "i don't want my wake to be some boring, tedious fuckin' get together, ya hear me? a want a quick funeral, a decent eulogy and then i want everyone to have fun and have some barbecue and some music. no tears, but a lot of dancin'," he'd say. eugene will certainly be missed. we should all go out like eugene. old age, living a long life. that's the dream right? may he rest in peace. ❞

𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙥 𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮-𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚. 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮-𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚.

ooc information under the cut.

and here's the first event! i wanted to make it chill and a way for people to write their characters in a setting that's not "normal" but also not too complicated so we can focus on building our muses and our connections! that being said, here's some ic info:

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

WHEN: friday, winter, 2039 ( month wise, around late november, early december )

TIME: starts at 7 pm

WHERE: clay pit bbq ( not a wednesday, but they made an exception for eugene )

WHAT: a bbq night / wake, with music, food, drink and dance to celebrate eugene's wishes

MORE: no limit on drinks or food, no closing time ( though they're not working past 2 am ), though please remember you still have to work tomorrow morning and be mindful of the biting cold outside.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

WE ARE NOT OPEN FOR INTERACTIONS YET. that will come around tomorrow, 9 pm gmt+1.

TAGS TO USE: survive.starter & survive.wake ( both for starters )

TIME FRAME: the event will run for about a week and it can be extended if the group feels like it needs it. it will start on may 14th ( sunday ) and it will go until may 21st ( sunday ). threads can be continued past the end of the event but no new event ones should be started past that date.

A LITTLE NOTE: if you want your character to be connected to eugene in any way, please let me know! although i won't be accepting any family connections, they could have been his co-worker ( he was a retired patrolman, having been a technician for the past FIVE years, going to the dam many times ), neighbour, etc.

please like this post so i know you've read it!

#survive.event #survive.wake

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calamityblog · 2 years

Note

I missed your posts, Sasha. I follow this blog for all three of you, even though I understand that you were sick and that you don't like social media that much. I'm glad that you're posting again. What's your workout routine?

Hey, thank you for sending this. It means a lot to know someone's interested in seeing my posts. Marcy always says good things about you, so it's good to know you live up to that.

I don't want to share my exact routine since I've been training strength for about ten years and doing different sports for most of my life, so I don't want anyone trying to push themselves to do what I do. It's important to slowly work up to more intense activity or you could seriously injure yourself. Working out also involves a lot more than just being at the gym. It's about building healthy habits for all areas of your life including eating and sleeping. When you do more physical activity, your body should begin to crave these positive changes naturally but it's important to stay on top of things.

This is a rough overview of what I do in a day with some advice for how to train if you want to build strength.

I train for around an hour and a half almost every day before I go into work. I'll eat something small in the early morning like a protein bar or shake before going to the gym with a more substantial breakfast afterwards that could include eggs, yogurt, beans, vegetables, etc.

It's important to train different muscle groups each day so I rotate between leg, arm, core, back, and full body workouts. I recommend looking up beginner exercises if you're just starting out. You don't want to immediately jump into heavy deadlifts just because it looks impressive. If you don't have a training partner or coach, you should also look up what the proper form and technique looks like for each exercise you do. YouTube videos are the most helpful to get a visual representation.

These are a few exercises that I do for each area: Legs: Deadlifts, squats, leg extensions, leg presses Arms: Pushups, chin-ups, bicep curls, front raises Core: Planks, crunches, Russian twists, in and outs, bridges Back: Lateral pulldowns, rows, pull-ups

You want to find the number of sets and reps that work best for your body for each exercise and make sure to rest both between sets and between different exercises. A rep is one action, like a bicep curl. A set is the number of those that you do in a row. For example, if you were doing 3 sets of 10 reps of an exercise, you'd do 10 exercises in a row, rest for about 3 minutes, then repeat that twice more. You should feel like you're pushing yourself slightly past what's comfortable. Adequate rest is crucial because otherwise you'll start to tire yourself out and risk doing exercises improperly which can lead to injury.

After working out, I listen to my body throughout the day and eat when I'm hungry, focusing on protein-rich and healthy foods. If I'm craving something sweet, for example, I'll usually reach for Greek yogurt over a cookie. I find that I crave unhealthy foods less than I used to but there's nothing wrong with treating yourself occasionally. Depriving yourself of things that bring you joy can really damage your psyche and make you less motivated. I hate when people use the word “cheat day” for eating foods they enjoy. There is no cheating in balancing your diet.

If I'm feeling very fired up or stressed, I might go to the gym after work for a half hour or so to do some cardio work. Anne usually cooks dinner and she helps with including lean meats, fish, beans, whole grains and rice, and plenty of vegetables as much as possible. I sleep from about 9:30 PM to 5:30 AM to wake up feeling refreshed and ready for another day.

Since I'm very experienced, I work out five days a week, but if you're new to strength training I recommend starting with three days a week and working your way up to four. Taking rest days is extremely important. I take mine on Wednesdays and Saturdays. I might do some light exercise on those days like playing tennis or racquetball with Anne, but I also take those days to actually rest and recover. It might seem like training every day will make you stronger, but your muscles actually strengthen more during rest days. It sounds disgusting, but strength training creates small tears in the muscles you're working. Resting allows those tears to repair themselves and that's how your muscles grow stronger and increase in size.

I also recommend mixing in exercise that you personally enjoy doing. Training is repetitive by nature and it can get boring. Some days, I don't go to the gym at all. I've gotten into surfing, and I practice sword fighting with Anne even though it's an impractical skill here. This kind of exercise lets me see the rewards of my training and it's also just fun for me.

Even if you were just asking for curiosity's sake, I hope this advice is helpful. Taking even a small first step towards better fitness can make a huge difference for your quality of life in all areas. I'd be happy to talk about this more anytime.

-Sasha

#amphibia ask blog #amphibia roleplay #amphibia rp #sasha waybright roleplay #sasha waybright #amphibia #sasha #answers

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redapplechai · 1 year

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☽ Lunar rhythm eating is so fascinating! I like to call it the werewolf diet in my head. Lunar rhythm fasting/eating is a type of intermittent fasting based around the moon phases, that combines 5:2 & 16:8 fasting.

You eat from around 6 am - 2 pm & you fast/restrict on the four major moon phases (full, new, first & last quarter/half moons) & mondays; OR the eight major/minor phases (full, new, first & last quarter/half moons, waxing/waning crescent/gibbous midway between the major phases). I am debating doing a combination, 8 phases + mondays, but I can barely restrict properly let alone fast 12 days a month yet.

You eat more around the full moon (which I already do because of the monthlies) & less as you approach the new moon. (which, again, i already do!) You keep your diet rich & healthy, allowing for snacks/treats in careful moderation, & your last meal is recommended to be simple. (A fruit mono would be a great choice.)

I'd have to adjust my waking schedule so I was up by no later than 3 am, so I could exercise before, & go to bed by 9-10 pm, definitely no later than midnight. I'd sleep three to six hours; five or six is ideal for me, I can function on less if I get a nap around mid day (at 2 pm, right after dinner basically). If I could be nocturnal I'd be set for life but, alas, I am trapped by responsibilities for the foreseeable future.

It's literally perfect for me, I just have to change my current sleeping schedule or I risk binge eating because I am eating too early after waking up/without exercise first. Honestly, I think I should just go for it, try it for the rest of this week. At worst, I waste a couple days binge eating & give up on the 6-2 schedule, with plenty of time to lose weight this month. At best, I adopt a perfect eating schedule for restriction, & annoy all of my family members. Which is a bonus, not a problem. ☾

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criticalgamingchannel97-blog · 2 years

Text

The Barefoot Girl - Academy Showdown Short Story

IT WAS 9:30 PM. A full moon. A smaller red ‘moon’, known simply as The Yolk, was hovering just beneath it. The fair weather of the day had given way to a harsh chill by nightfall, making him grateful that he had listened to Christy and worn his long thermal black jacket over his skin-tight suit. He sauntered through the cemetery, reading the engraved names on each tombstone he passed. Conrad Kittles...Meredith Patterson...Francois DuBois… He'd read up to ten different people before the next one stopped him dead in his tracks. A massive tombstone stood before him. It bore the symbol of a black dragon, belonging to one of Taqora's most powerful families. That is, until four years ago when a terrible massacre wiped out all but one of their members. A massacre that had become synonymous with their name ever since.

“Kageryuu...” As Amos read that name aloud, his skin tingled. He tightened his lips and sank to his knees, forming a seiza sitting position before bowing in honor of the fallen clan. While he didn't know anyone in the family personally, he always felt a strong connection to his fellow countrymen.

“Yasuraka ni nemutte kudasai.” Let all the souls here rest in peace. From afar, he could almost feel his sister Frida's silent judgment, but he chose to ignore it.

“Huh?”

Just then, a few will-o'-the-wisps emerged from the Kageryuu gravesite, one of which levitated over to Amos.

I must report this to Kaname-senpai.

He stared at the lone specter for a while then nodded before standing up, adjusting his headset, and flicking a switch.

“Wolf to The Garden. Come in, Grand Fisher.”

After nearly fifteen seconds of silence, a teenage girl about two years his senior responded.

“Go for Grand Fisher. Report.”

“I’ve arrived at Holden Cemetery,” Amos began. “The thermal scanner didn’t show any signs of life...”

"Well, duh,” Kaname chortled to herself. There was a brief pause, perhaps to see if Amos would bite. When he didn’t, she cleared her throat. “Sorry, bad joke. Please continue.”

“But, I did happen upon a specter. It is now known that Subject-724 is residing here. The spiritual pressure is quite strong.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

Amos nodded. “Positive. If she were to hide out anywhere, it’d be a place with a plentiful amount of souls.”

“Understood,” Kaname said, “So what now?”

“Gather as many souls as I can find so I can face her head-on.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

His target, Subject-724, was the human subject of their client, The Grimm. Female, blonde hair, short of stature, and an extremely powerful soul mage, S-Class. The target escaped from the client’s underground laboratory, leaving many corpses of failed experiments and unlucky lab assistants in its wake. Not even an ounce of blood was spilled at the scene.

For five long years, Amos had been trained in the art of assassination. He made it a habit to come prepared every time he was deployed. No matter his target’s size, strength, or experience, he did well to study their strengths and weaknesses down to the last detail before setting out.

“Hey, so I’ve been curious,” Kaname began, changing the subject. “When you were coming up with your codename, what gave you the idea for ‘Wolf’?”

“Your sister was the one who had proposed it to me.”

“Oh, you don’t say!”

“Yeah. I wanted to go with Ghost Charmer, but she told me that it was ‘too on the nose.’”

Kaname couldn’t stop herself from chuckling. “Wow, didn’t know my little sister had that much of an influence over you,” she teased. “Sounds to me like she’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Amos felt a wellspring of heat wash over his face. “Uh... it isn’t like that, Senpai, I promise. I just thought the name was fitting.”

“Ha, whatever you say loverboy! I know you’re blushing.”

“Please stop.”

“Uh-uh!”

Kaname was so immersed in her teasing, that nothing could prepare her for what came next.

“Boo!!”

“Kyaahh!!”

The sudden noise on Kaname’s end made her yelp. These antics were not foreign to Amos. Only one person in all of Eden Academy could get that kind of reaction out of her. Sounds like Christy just clocked in. Thank the gods for her.

“Chris-er-Twin Drills!” Kaname yelled, still catching her breath. “I thought I told you to stop sneaking up on me like that! You tryin' to make me have an accident, girl?!”

Inessential information, Senpai…

“Wow, you actually went ‘kyaahh!’ Gods, that was lush!” Christy laughed her machine gun-like laugh. This was usually accompanied by her holding her stomach, but Amos couldn't tell, what with being five thousand miles away and all. “I’m sorry, but you just make it too easy, K,” she went on, pleading her case. “And besides, your reactions are priceless. What would you expect me to do, not act on such a golden opportunity?”

“That would very much be preferred, thank you.”

“Bah! You’re no fun.”

“Well, there’ll be time for that later, hop on a set and help me out here.”

“Roger!”

There was a small hum emitting from Amos’ headset. Christy had opened a channel of her own.

“Twin Drills to Wolf,” Christy called, sounding much clearer than before.

“Go for Wolf.”

“Feel around your headset for a tiny button.”

Amos did as he was told. He tried to reach up with his only hand and feel around for the button but to no avail. After a few more failed attempts, he simply removed his headset to find a tiny yellow button. He sighed at his inadequacy as he used his thumb to press the button and quickly put the headset back on.

“Oh hey, we got a visual!” Kaname cheered. “Nice one, T.D.!”

Amos was still a bit confused. “Uh, so did I activate some sort of camera?”

“Uh-huh!” Christy beamed proudly. Amos could tell that she was grinning. “K and I can now see exactly what you’re seeing. So when we go into radio silence, we’ll be able to keep up with the action.”

“I see,” Amos said, sounding impressed. “This will help quite a bit during these missions moving forward.”

“W-Well, I remembered you were talking about having difficulty fighting and briefing simultaneously, so I figured this would help you focus on your missions. No big deal.”

“It is. Thanks, Twin Drills, I very much appreciate it.”

There was a long pause. A second longer and Amos would’ve assumed he had lost connection if Christy hadn’t spoken up.

“Hmph! As you should!” she scoffed. “But, don’t let this one little favor go to your head.”

“One? Seriously?” Kaname chuckled. “So what about all those times you helped him clean the dorm hallways?”

"Th-that's only because those hallways are massive! No one can clean all that by themselves!"

“Ms. Yamamoto does.”

“Ms. Yamamoto is a professional janitor in the Queen’s uniform and she has two hands!”

“Hm, true that....”

While the girls were bickering, Amos had made quite a bit of ground, all the while finding and contracting will-o'-the-wisps and other spirits that had yet to pass on. She has to be here, he told himself, but why isn’t my mana detection working? Is her spiritual connection that much stronger?

Amos surveyed the area around him after each step as there was a good chance that the target was made aware of his arrival. While he did not doubt that Frida would be quick enough to intercept a potential attack, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Okay, then,” Amos heard Kaname say, “how about all the times you wake him up early, do his laundry, or bring him food?”

“Um, he’ll sleep all day if I don’t, his flat’s always a total mess whenever I arrive, plus he can’t necessarily work a stove and I’m no Marsha Steward, so I have little to no choice!”

By the time Amos returned to their conversation, the girls were still arguing. Although only five minutes had passed, he had already forgotten the topic of their discussion.

“Okay, okay,” Kaname said, having had far too much fun at this point. “So why does it have to be you?”

“Huh? K, what are you…?”

“I mean, there are plenty of people who've got Wolf's back,” she pointed out. “Hell, one of whom could quite literally give him a hand. Yet you always take it upon yourself to help him instead. Hmm… I guess you could say I'm curious as to why that is... ”

Oh, that’s right, he thought to himself as a bit of pondering brought the subject back to the forefront.

“Th-th-that’s…w-w-well… you see...” Christy went into one of her stammering fits while Kaname simply just laughed. Amos took this opportunity to chime in.

“Hey, uh... For what it's worth, I don't mind it when Twin Drills helps me out. I'm always busy, and it's not like I can just call upon the spirits to do my chores. Things were a bit rough when I first arrived in Cambridge, so it's nice to have an extra pair of hands from time to time…”

“......”

His statement came so abruptly that the girls had fallen silent. Amos was seriously beginning to doubt the quality of these headsets. Kaname had claimed they were “brand-spanking-new” and “top-notch”, but after nearly five hours in the field, they've proven to be anything but.

His concerns were quickly dispelled when he finally heard Kaname and Christy speak.

“Oh… my… gods…”

“You... you idiot…”

“That was the sweetest thing I've ever heard anyone say about... well, about anyone! Things appear to be looking up for you, Twin Drills. Don't let this chance go to waste or you'll regre—Ow!!”

Kaname was interrupted by the sudden sound of rapid and heavy pounding against flesh. The perpetrator must have been Christy, as she was cursing something in her native Zelsh in sync with the pounding.

“Ah! Hey, that hurts like hell, you little shit!” Kaname cursed back in the Common Tongue. “I’m so gonna get you for that later…”

Christy's frequency wavered slightly as she blew a raspberry at her upperclassman. Amos sighed and rolled his eyes. At this rate, they'll probably kill each other before I've even pinned down the target's location. He’d imagine an outsider would have difficulty discerning how these two even became friends in the first place…

Suddenly, a low melodic hum drew him out of his reverie. Amos came to a halt and listened. The hum was distant, but not too far off. As he shifted his gaze from side to side in search of the sound’s origin, he felt the facet joints in his neck crack.

“Wolf...?” Kaname called.

“You've been quiet for a while,” Christy said. “What’s wrong?”

“Shh!” Amos pointlessly brought his index finger to his lips. “Listen…”

“......”

The girls simmered down and sharpened their ears. The humming was dulcet, graceful, almost angelic. Akin to a merrow performing Siren's Song to lure in its prey. With each stride Amos took, its volume increased. It was now clear to him that the sound was coming from just ahead. After a few seconds, Christy spoke.

“Is that a… a children’s nursery rhyme?” The tremble in her voice made her perturbation quite clear.

“Mm, not any I recognize...” Kaname paused, perhaps giving the humming another listen. “Ah, it’s a desert elven folk song... S’hara of the Dunes, I think?” Her conclusion seemed to elicit an audible shudder from the younger girl.

“Ugh, humming an old dreary folk tune from Lai-Fatt Desert… In a cemetery… In the dead of night?! Uh-uh, that’s uber-creepy, no matter how you slice it. You’d best be on your guard, Amos!”

The boy nodded. “Will do.”

Amos trudged on. He was only a few steps away from a tunnel of densely planted shrubs when he felt a faint tinge of aura. He sank to a knee and pressed his open palm against the wet grass. As soon as he made contact, a powerful flow of mana began to emanate from just beyond the tunnel. And as he watched the energy swirl and flow around his arm, he began to feel a sense of familiarity. The same feeling he got when making contact with wayward souls. There was no longer a single doubt in his mind.

Bingo.

“Mm. I believe I've just found our target, Grand Fisher,” Amos reported. “She’s dead ahead.”

“Copy that,” Kaname said. “Okay…” She took a deep breath and then continued. “Now remember, Wolf, Subject-724 is an S-Class target, capable of killing an enraged manticore in less than five seconds, unlike anything you've ever seen on the Junior team. If there's even a single misstep, the mission won't be the only thing in jeopardy. We'll be keeping an eye out, so call us again if things get hairy. And please… be careful.”

“And you’d better use your damned brain for once!” Christy demanded. “If you mess around and die, so help me, I’ll curse your name for the rest of my life! Am I understood?!”

“But you kind of already do that, T.D. Quite often if we’re being honest.”

“Then I’ll do it twice as much!!”

Christy was one of the first friends that Amos ever had. As far as he could remember, anyway. They met around five years ago when he was brought to the continent for the first time. Things were a bit rocky at first as he struggled immensely with the Common Tongue, leading to numerous misunderstandings between them. Once Christy, a native Zelsh speaker, learned of his background, she could relate to his struggle to learn a second language and decided to take it upon herself to help him improve. Since then, he's frequently found her at his apartment with either food or a laundry basket. He considered himself fortunate to have met her and was eternally grateful for all she has done.

They then met Kaname Fischer when they were recruited to The Order of Eve's Junior Squad in primary school nearly two years ago. The headmaster of Eden Academy insisted that building trust with the faction's support team would be beneficial to their development. They worked together to complete ten missions, with the team guiding them every step of the way. Kaname, a freshman at the time, was the only member left, as the majority of the faction and support members had graduated or perished before her two lowerclassmen became official members. They've all since remained good friends.

Amos felt the corners of his mouth curl up. This was his first major assignment as a member of The Order of Eve, and it was unquestionably his most difficult one yet. The rest of his comrades were not skilled in soul magic, so they couldn't help him against Subject-724. Aside from Frida, who remained on standby, Amos was practically alone. He was grateful to hear familiar voices throughout his journey.

“I will, Senpai,” he finally said. “And don’t worry Twin Drills, you’re understood. I promise to be careful. Talk to you guys, soon.”

“Over and out,” Kaname responded.

The boy shut off his radio and put away his square-rimmed spectacles. He scanned the cemetery once more as he combed his fingers through his long, pale white mane. Standing up, he let his thermal black jacket drop to the ground. He pressed his palm against the center of his chest, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and recited the words:

O’ spirits... O’ spirits of Holden. With my lifeforce as tribute, I call upon thee, for I have a task that must be sought through.

Will-o'-the-wisps flickered around the stump where his left arm once was. Sickly pale blue flesh materialized in the shape of a human arm, contrasting with his dark skin. From this new arm burst out five thin tree-root digits black as the night sky.

O’ Spirits… Dear spirits of Holden. For this, you have my utmost gratitude.

Amos was thankful that the spirits were still receptive to his call. He had been left on the verge of exhaustion from hours of intense sparring with his sisters just days prior. He removed the chains from his sheath, and held it to his side, gripping it tightly in his new temporary hand.

He concentrated on his breathing, then continued down the path of tall shrubbery, employing the foot roll technique from his stealth training in primary school. The humming grew louder and louder. Before he knew it, he had reached the end of the path. He slowly peeked around the corner and saw her.

A teenage girl wearing a white lace sundress sat on a large semi-collapsed tombstone. Her bare feet dangled over the edge, kicking to the rhythm of the melody. As she sang, the girl moved her head from side to side, and a swarm of will-o'-the-wisps danced all around her. There were so many that Amos couldn't keep track of them all. They always seemed to increase in number wherever he looked.

No wonder her mana was difficult to detect.

Without another word, Amos gripped the hilt of his sword, sizing up his target as he prepared to draw. Just as he began to pull the blade from the sheath, the girl’s tune came to an abrupt end.

“The spirits are certainly lively this time of night... wouldn’t you agree?”

Shit.

Amos ground his teeth and sheathed his sword before stepping out of his spot. The girl lowered her chin as she turned to stare at her would-be assailant. Upon her gaze, Amos became lost in the girl’s emerald-colored eyes, following their every move until suddenly, he could see himself from a bird's eye view.

Huh? What the…?

It felt as if some outside force had ripped his soul right out of his body. He could no longer feel the cool night air, nor could he feel the heavy breaths his body was taking. Amos had fought powerful mages, warriors, and gangsters of many races as well as some of the continent’s most feared monsters, but none of them had ever made him react like this.

No... I can’t let her take me...

Amos focused his mana and after a bit of a struggle, he suddenly found himself back in his body and let out a sharp gasp. His heart raced as a cold sweat ran down his face. After regaining his composure, he gave the girl a once-over, noticing the welts and bruises on her legs as she playfully kicked them back and forth. Soon the moonlight had completely diffused the darkness surrounding them, lighting up the entire cemetery. The girl's pale blonde hair appeared to illuminate in the moon's radiance.

It was odd, the sight was certainly breathtaking, yet the boy still felt a chill run up his spine.

“Hm... you don’t look so well, stranger…” The girl wore a puzzled look as she tilted her head. “Is everything all right...?” Her voice was dreamy and distant as if she wasn’t speaking to Amos at all. It made her question sound all the more condescending. She then turned to her league of will-o'-the-wisps, who indulged her with a cacophony of chirps, which made her giggle. “Yes, yes... he certainly is much stronger than I pegged him to be…”

The girl stopped kicking her feet. She let out a playful grunt of effort as she pushed herself off the tombstone, landing gracefully in the cold, damp grassy field below. At that precise moment, Amos found his new right hand gripping the hilt of his weapon, preparing to draw it should the girl decide to make any sudden movements toward him.

“My, oh my, he’s like a spooked horse! How cute...” The girl giggled, looking the boy up and down. “Half-Hōjinese… half-Anubian?" She turned to her wisps for an answer. They chittered and chirped vigorously as if providing a matter-of-fact response. “Yes, yes, you're right, Anubians don't have white hair… Ah, eyes of amethyst... Perhaps he's Zemian, then? Mm. So he is of bi-ethnic heritage like my brothers and me… Interesting...”

The unfamiliar term made Amos scrunch his face. Zemian?

“Hmm, and then there's that queer aura of yours…” The girl was suddenly speaking to him again; the intonation in her voice was more direct. She rubbed her chin in thought, eyes wide with wonder. “I detect an immense amount of spectral energy coursing through you… And that’s not all, despite making eye contact with me, your soul managed to return to your body… I have never seen such a thing... Anyone else would've simply perished from my Soul Extraction spell, but you…”

“......”

The wisps chirped again, this time in a joyous manner as if confirming her hunch. The barefoot girl grinned at the boy, her eyes dazzling as she slowly raised her right arm and pointed at him. “...Yes… Then it must be so... You are just like me...”

“......”

There was such an air of sureness in the way she appraised the young man standing before her. Amos eyed the girl carefully, looking her up and down for any signs of additional movement. Something was completely off about her. The way she walked, the way she talked, even the way she smiled. Everything she did felt uncanny, like a piece of her just simply wasn’t there. Amos was slowly, but surely starting to see why the headmaster and his associates were calling for this girl’s execution.

“Such unpredictability could prove dangerous if left to roam about as it pleases,” the headmaster explained.

Soul Extraction... No wonder nobody else could track the girl down. With a spell that powerful, she was able to destroy the lab and escape without leaving any traceable DNA. For someone subject to harsh experimentation, it was understandable that she'd develop a firm grasp of her powers. And with all those victims, she had a plethora of new souls at her disposal, far more than Amos could ever hope to stand against.

Fighting her alone will prove difficult, but wearing her down appears to be my best course of action, Amos deduced. She managed to catch him off guard earlier. If he repeated that mistake, he was as good as dead. And it wasn't a stretch to conclude that he'd be no good to her if he was dead. That I know better than anyone.

“Hm… You appear to be high-strung, kinsman,” the girl observed. “Tell me… could this perhaps be your first time… meeting someone else who can communicate with the dead?”

“......”

Amos didn’t answer. Or, more accurately, he couldn't. His esophagus had gone bone dry. In truth, this was his first encounter with another spectral mage, or someone of the 'whisperer' class, as the headmaster liked to call it. For a long time, he thought he was the sole whisperer in not only Empyrea but the Holy Kingdoms entirely. Clerics and onmyouji, mages who use divine magic to purify corrupt spirits, were quite prevalent on the continent given its namesake, but whisperers, those who form contracts with wayward souls and use their power to meet their ends, were almost non-existent.

“Oh, so it is!” The blonde girl smiled, her frostbitten hands caressing a small wisp. “It is also my first time meeting someone like me! I struggled at first against the monsters they threw at me, but once I figured out how to use my mana, fighting them became a lot of fun! But after a while... it became tiresome...”

She paused for a moment, lowering her gaze.

“Say... let me ask you a question, kinsman...” Her voice sounded much clearer, and more engaged than before. Again, her eyes met his. This time, Amos did not feel the same sensation as before. She gave him a look as if waiting for him to grant permission. When he said nothing, she continued.

“If your life… and everyone in it was suddenly taken away from you in a single day…” Her smile had faded. In its place, a solemn look of remembrance. “...what would you do… if it meant that you could see them again?”

“......”

It was a question that Amos had not expected. On one hand, he had no memory of his past life, his parents, his hometown in Northern Hōjo, or even how he lost his left arm. On the other, just like the girl, there was also that strong sense of yearning. So in a way, he felt like he could relate. The girl maintained her gaze, this time with her eyebrows raised, lips tightened. It seemed as though she was genuinely seeking an answer.

“I don't remember much about my past,” Amos finally said, “Nor do I remember anyone in it. But if getting those answers was at stake..." He then drew his Chokuto sword. A 27.5-inch blade with a hilt of 26 centimeters. His contracted spirits gathered around it, forming a rippling blue aura. “...then I would gladly go to any length to have them.”

Nodding at the boy's resolve, the girl released the little blue wisp from her grasp. She watched as it rejoined the others. A warm smile spread across her face. “I see…”

She inhaled deeply. A foreboding aura began to encircle her entire body in the blink of an eye. The will-o'-the-wisps danced around her again, this time more ferociously.

“I wish to know your name, kinsman… Could you please tell me?”

“It’s Amos… Amos Naragishi.”

“Well, then Naragishi-san… I believe I shall follow in your footsteps. If it means seeing my friends... seeing my brothers... then I… Nanaya Kusanagi… shall see this through…”

Kusanagi?

She closed her eyes and levitated into the air, holding both of her hands to the night sky. Her eyes then shot open, casting down upon him, with an expression Amos could only describe as dark… brimming with sheer malice. A bit jarring for a girl who was all smiles just moments prior.

“...with no regrets!!”

Suddenly, Amos sensed an overwhelming presence from above and looked up—floating over his head was a swarm of will-o'-the-wisps. When he looked around, he noticed that more spirits were rising from their graves and floating towards Nanaya, joining the others. At this point, there were far more than Amos could count. They grew in size, with some forming an arch around their new host, chirping in unison as they did so. Soon, the spirits began to morph, save for the ones surrounding her. Amos could make out a few knives, swords, spears, halberds, and even a few handguns, and assault rifles. It was at this point that he wondered just how the hell someone capable of all this had been contained for four years up until now.

This is going to get ugly…

He took a deep breath, raised his sword into a high stance, and channeled the mana coursing through his body, preparing for his target's—no, his opponent's—first move. The bladed weapons danced around the girl, while the long-ranged weapons hovered nearby. A few aura swords darted toward him a split second later. He ducked the first three, dodged the next two, and swung on the final one, sending it flying far to the left. When he looked up, he saw two aura halberds descending at full speed.

As he rolled out of the way, he was surrounded by at least 30 more bladed weapons from all sides.

There’s no end to them!

Nanaya lowered her hands as the weapons sped toward him. Amos sank to his knees, his sword at his side. As he closed his eyes, mana flowed through his veins.

Tutela...

The spirits Amos summoned gathered around him to form a shield, deflecting the oncoming volley of weapons. Some of them had pierced the ground around him, sticking out before quickly dissipating. He knew he couldn't keep this up for long; a few more attacks like that, and the shield would surely come crashing down. Before he could recover, a few more weapons were hurled at him, and they were low enough to slip through the gap between his shield and the ground.

This is bad!

Calling off the shield. Amos rolled to his left, dodging all but one Wiccastrean athame cleverly hidden behind an Empyrean great sword. The smaller blade slashed his side, sending a searing-hot pain shooting through his body.

“Guh...!”

Assault rifles and handguns followed. They fired at him with extreme haste. Amos took his sword and rotated it clockwise with both hands, deflecting a hail of orange bullets. These were not the typical guns he had to deal with on a regular basis. For starters, these weapons usually had people manning them, making it relatively easy to deflect their bullets back at the wielder. Those guns also had to reload when their clips or magazines exhausted their rounds—the marksman behind these guns, on the other hand, was currently in the air about 120 feet above the conflict, with no reloading time to speak of. Amos was partially impressed.

Her spectral domain is certainly more extensive than mine…

Knowing he couldn't spin his sword any longer, he broke away and bolted to the right, the transparent bullets close behind.

Nanaya could be heard cackling with glee. “Oh, this is most riveting, Naragishi-san!! It has been far too long since I've had an opponent of your caliber!!”

A Zelsh great sword and a dwarven battle ax materialized ahead of him, and Nanaya flung them at his head with a swift flick of the wrist.

Amos needed to act quickly. He took a large diagonal step to the left with his right leg, then stepped forward with his back foot, turning 180 degrees. He swung his back foot around, striking a brief eagle pose before launching himself into the air with his arms and right leg. He wrapped both arms to the left, which allowed him to rotate in midair. He could see the great sword zip past his head, indicating that the battle-ax wasn't far behind. As he made a full rotation, he noticed the ax spinning just below him, only a few centimeters away from where his feet would land—he had timed this perfectly.

And now for the tricky part…

Both feet landed square on the heel and the butt of the battle ax, he then bent both of his knees and focused all of his innate strength and a little mana on this next leap. Like an eagle, he soared, evading the bullets that pelted the ax below by a hairbreadth.

“Hup!”

He wasn’t nearly as high as he needed to be, so he called forth his newly acquired will-o'-the-wisps. The first wisp formed a flat platform, and the rest quickly followed suit, forming a makeshift staircase that lifted Amos higher and higher into the air. He gripped his sword and readied it as the spirits assisted him in rising high enough to charge directly at Nanaya.

“......!”

The girl exclaimed as a wisp from her arch instantly transformed into a katana. Its orange ‘steel’ flashed as it clashed with Amos’ Chokuto in one swift motion.

“......”

To keep Amos at Nanaya's level, his blue-flaming friends formed a large platform beneath his feet. He swung again, this time aiming low, but the katana deflected it. He aimed high, then mid, and then low again. Same result. He then hurled a flurry of swings at the girl only to be matched blow for blow by the invisible swordsman defending her, sparks flying as their blades clashed fiercely.

No doubt about it… this spirit was a master swordsman.

Amos made for a diagonal slash, but the invisible swordsman parried the attempt with such force, Amos’ arms were launched upward, leaving his torso wide open. The swordsman wasted no time in thrusting its katana toward his midsection. Amos quickly spun to avoid the fatal blow, only to find himself surrounded by a new bevy of weapons appearing out of thin air.

What?!

The weapons vanished as quickly as they appeared, reappearing at a lower altitude before lunging in a sudden burst. Amos sidestepped, ducked, dodged, and parried weapon after weapon, but as each one fell, a new one appeared in its place. He’d only managed to avoid a few more before the rest of them ran through him from all sides, perforating his flesh like a pincushion.

His eyes widened. As he cried out, that searing-hot pain, worse than the last, coursed through him.

“Aaaaagh!!!”

His spectral platform gave way. Nanaya giggled playfully, raising her right arm in the air as she watched the boy fall.

“This... has been quite fun, Naragishi-san,” the girl smiled warmly. “The most fun I’ve had in a long time. Thus, I have decided that you shall become a part of my domain.”

Amos’ breath caught in his throat—as he noticed an even greater number of aura weapons were suspended in the air. Nanaya had rematerialized the weapons that had just pierced his flesh and added them to the collective. She seemed dead set on making quick work of the boy. He became aware of a few orange spheres encircling his body and realized he was no longer falling but being held in midair.

“This will only take a moment...we will be reunited soon...”

With that, Nanaya flicked her wrist downward as the weapons began to rain down on him.

Here they come…

As the weapons drew closer and closer, Amos fought through the pain and let his mana flow through his body.

Christy’s going to curse my name forever if I fail, huh? He thought of the turmoil he put his friend through the last time he returned with a serious injury. He then remembered that she installed a camera in his headset. Who am I fooling? She’s probably cursing my name right this second!

The aura weapons were only mere inches away from him now. He no longer had any other choice. I had hoped that I wouldn’t have to use this, but...

Amos shut his eyes and spread his limbs. Then, for a brief moment, all sounds came to a halt, and he could no longer feel the cool night air as if time itself was at a standstill. After a few moments, his eyes snapped open to find himself surrounded by luminescent white walls that seemed to expand indefinitely. Without a moment’s hesitation, he began his mantra, calling forth an entity far greater than any spirit:

O’ Mother… O’ Mother of Terra... grace me with the phantom's reflection, so that I may embody your strength in my time of need…

Will-o'-the-wisps began to dance and swarm around him, eventually congregating and forming the silhouette of what Amos thought to be the visage of a pregnant woman. The boy had no need for confirmation, for he knew full well who his eyes gazed upon. After a long pause, the entity finally spoke:

Very well, child... I acknowledge your resolve... Heed my power with honor and grace.

The entity then turned to face the boy. It extended its arm and reached for him. The warmness of its giant index finger brought a tingle to his cheeks. Then, in a flash, Amos could make out a large face smiling back at him; bronze skin with hair as verdant as tree leaves in Springtime, and a massive multicolored eye of a brown, green, and blue variety. Its tone was so vibrant, that he could've sworn that he was peering in at the planet Terra itself. This bizarre yet beautiful sight, however, lasted only a fraction of a second, and any recollection of what the boy may have seen would soon fade from his subconscious. Gone from the ether and without a trace.

Huh? Where am…? Oh… That’s right…

Shaken from his momentary trance, Amos looked around. Grimacing, he rubbed at his forehead as the memory of where he was found its way back to him. With a nod, Amos turned towards the entity, now back in its silhouette form, and bowed deeply, giving his thanks:

O’ Mother… Dear Mother of Terra… for this, you have my utmost gratitude.

With this affirmation, Amos felt his being return to the waking realm as the hands of time began to move once more. Now back in the physical plane, his eyes shot open as he uttered the words:

“Spectral… Counter!!”

Just then, he noticed that the aura weapons closing in on him were no longer visible. In their place a large amount of spectral energy. It wrapped around his temporary arm, merging with the power bestowed upon him by the spirits of Holden Cemetery. To add to the craziness, Amos' ears were filled with a cacophony of voices. Love. Laughter. Tragedy. Sorrow. He didn’t even have the time to comprehend any of it as all of that energy quickly expelled itself from its host, forming a massive orange sphere.

“Wh-what… ?!” Nanaya's mouth hung agape as she stared down at the phenomenon. She couldn't believe her eyes. All told, neither could Amos. He'd used this ability against formidable opponents numerous times, but it'd never done anything like this before.

What is this…?

In seconds, the sphere emitted a rapid, tempestuous gale knocking Amos to the ground and launching itself with unrelenting force toward Nanaya.

“Aahhhh!!”

The girl screamed as the impact created an ear-splitting explosion. Its grand force pushed Amos back a few yards upon landing. As he recovered, he noticed Nanaya's body crashing to the ground a few yards away. He took this time to examine himself. He was losing a lot of blood, and his body ached every time he heaved in a breath. I need to close these wounds, he thought, seeking help from the spirits of his domain. However, not a single one responded. Amos also came to realize that he could no longer feel their presence either. Looking over to his left, he was surprised to find that his temporary arm had reverted to his usual stump of flesh.

Odd… I didn’t end the contract, yet they disappeared anyway…

This perplexed him. Normally when the energy thrown at him reached a certain threshold, his Spectral Counter would redirect it. The more powerful the energy, the more difficult the feat. This time, however, it did more than that; it also took the spiritual energy he had gathered before the battle. Something he had never known it to do before.

Was it because those spirits had merged with my domain?

“No!! This… This can't be so!”

The sound of someone crying interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see that it was Nanaya. Her sundress was torn, tattered, and covered in mud. She was on her knees, frantically sweeping her hands across the marshy ground near a slew of tombstones.

“No… no… I… I can’t feel them anymore… Where have they gone? Where?!”

The girl sobbed uncontrollably, nearly hyperventilating, as she surveyed the cemetery, becoming increasingly agitated with each passing second. Amos realized that this was his chance to complete the mission. He grabbed his sword with his lone arm and moved swiftly across the yard toward his target.

Sorry, Frida, I may not need your help after all.

Nanaya silently stood up, her back to him. Pressing on, he prepared to thrust through the girl’s trapezius, which would then penetrate her heart, an effective finishing blow. He was only inches away when he was pushed back by a turbulent force.

“Whoa!” Amos managed to catch himself and gather his bearings before glaring up at the girl.

“You…” Nanaya said, her voice cold and monotone. Her small hands knotted in fists and shook violently. “What did you do…?”

Amos stopped. Perplexed by her question.

“What are you talking about?”

The girl squared around to face the boy, her blonde hair adhering to her tear-stained face, shoulders heaving as she struggled to take in air. Her face contorted into a stony glare that rivaled any of her previous expressions.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY FRIENDS?!”

“—!”

Amos was taken aback by her outburst. It was rife with anguish and hatred. The girl was now brimming with mana, the flower-shaped rune sigil on her left leg glowing bright orange and the air around them began to shift. Amos couldn't detect any spectral energy; this was her power, and hers alone.

This bodes ill…

Nanaya lowered her head, scowling at the damp dirt beneath her feet. “My friends…My...precious friends…” she muttered, her voice trembling as she wiped the bottom of one foot on top of the other. “They’re gone...and it is all your fault…”

“What do you mean, they’re gone? You aren’t making any sense!” Amos didn't intend for that much bass to be in his voice, but he couldn’t piece together what this girl was getting at and it was wearing on his patience. Instantly, Nanaya’s head shot up and snapped in his direction. Her eyes shimmered.

“This was their place! Their home!!” Her voice shook even more as she yelled. She dragged an arm across her face, attempting to wipe away the tears. “We were but humble guests in their resting place…and you drove them away…How could you?!”

Amos couldn't believe his ears. The realization hit him. “No… No, no, no... You…You don't mean I—”

“This was the only connection they had left to this world… It wasn’t their time yet!” Nanaya's tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed from the ground, eyeing a harrowed Amos with disgust. “... And now… Now they can never hope to pass on…” Her body shook with sobs. “You…Because of your actions…My friends…they are forever lost! I was mistaken…you are nothing like me… Leave this place!!”

Her harsh words pierced him like a hot dagger, cutting deeper than the aura weapons he'd taken moments before. Amos had no intention of banishing those spirits from this realm. He shouldn't have been able to do such a thing, as far as he knew. He felt his heart sink to his stomach. As horrid a revelation as it was, he still had a job to do. Amos had mana to spare, but his proficiency in other forms of magic was lacking. His all-around specialty was soul magic, and with the cemetery now completely exorcised, he was barely stronger than the average human teenager.

Amos stood his ground, his sword in midstance. His act of defiance only seemed to incense the girl further.

“I said, leave!!” she roared. Before Amos could act, she was already upon him with shocking suddenness. Something jabbed sharply into his solar plexus.

“Gah!”

As a result of the impact, blood erupted from his esophagus, forcing him to lean forward and drop his sword. His gaze was drawn downward as a result of his new precarious position. He didn't have to guess what had hit him so hard. Nanaya was standing on one leg, her right knee pressing against his injured midsection.

Amos channeled the adrenaline in his legs and drew back, but only by a couple of feet.

The girl came in with a swift left hook, he dodged and grabbed her arm, attempting to throw her over, but the sharp pain in his side allowed her to quickly break away. She threw a right hook that was quickly revealed to be a feint before gutting him with another knee strike, this time with her left.

“Gahhh!!”

Although he stood at about five feet ten inches, his five-inch height advantage over Nanaya proved detrimental, making it easy for her to sneak in her knee attacks. That, combined with her incredible speed, turned her into a force to be reckoned with. Soul magic or no.

Amos knew it was coming, but enduring the pain was a necessary sacrifice in order to lower the target's guard. He coughed up some more blood. His body began to feel numb, senses fading.

No… not yet!

He quickly dropped to a knee before sweeping his right leg, taking Nanaya’s left leg from under her. The force of his sweep pushed her up a few extra inches. Before she could fall, he reached out and grabbed her right ankle, yanked her over, and slammed her face-first into the ground.

“Ahhh!!”

With his target's ankle pressed under his boot, Amos reached down and pulled a large bayonet from the holster on his right leg, bringing it down on Nanaya's back. A strong gust of wind pushed back at the boy's downward stab, knocking the weapon from his grasp. Nanaya then rolled away from her captor. She quickly rose to her feet and brushed herself off.

“......”

She dashed forward again in a burst of speed, but Amos was ready this time. Using all the strength he could muster, he struck the girl in the face with his stump before pivoting around to her back. His arm then encircled her neck, the crook of his elbow resting on her trachea. As he anticipated, she tried to push him away by expelling her aura, so he cast another defensive spell, this time a barrier around himself to soften the impact.

“Nice try…” Amos rasped, trying his damndest not to cough. “Like I'd fall for that again…”

“Be silent!!”

She then fought back physically, scratching, clawing, and biting through his flesh. He didn’t budge, but he could only resist for so long.

“Let... go!!” Nanaya grimaced, her fingernails digging deep into his arm.

She was starting to waver, Amos felt her muscles loosening as she struggled to remain on her feet, her heart was racing as it sought oxygen from her lungs. Her lack of experience with hand-to-hand combat had reared its head, just as the report predicted. Her affinity for aero magic gave her strength and speed, but without the discipline to back it up, she would be outmaneuvered every time she faced a trained opponent. If Amos still had his spectral arm, he simply could have snapped her neck and been done with it all, but he was already pushing himself far beyond his limits. Putting the target to sleep to weaken her before the kill appeared to be his only remaining option.

“Look at me…” the girl rasped, “So much time has passed… and I’m still making things… harder for myself…”

“Shut it!” Amos tightened the chokehold, trying to expel what little oxygen she had left to produce. The barefoot girl simply chuckled before entering a brief coughing fit. Her nails were still digging into his arm. And then, a gust of wind swept past them. This sudden change in the air around them seemed to provide the girl an opportunity to fill her lungs.

“I-If…If onii-chan could see me now…” Nanaya continued. She clenched her right fist, now brimmed with orange energy. “...Surely…he would scold me for being so thoughtless…I can't have that… Can I?”

Amos tried to apply more pressure to the smaller target's neck, but no matter how hard he squeezed, all he could feel was the girl's mana circulation as its intensity began to rise at an alarming rate.

This energy… Where is she getting it from?!

“Matsuga!!” Nanaya croaked as a swirling sphere of energy formed around her fist. The air once again shifted around the two of them. She then threw her fist back, pounding Amos square across the face.

“Augh!!”

The sphere gyrated furiously, grinding into his skin before a powerful gale sent him flying backward. He slid violently against the ground, head, and limbs hitting a few jagged rocks before slamming back first into a tall tombstone.

“Gahh!!”

The spine-crushing impact forced him to cough up more blood and vomit. His forehead was now wounded, throbbing vigorously. His vision was slowly becoming stained with red. He looked over at his target. She was coughing violently, trying to calm her labored breathing.

“You said... you’d do anything... to get the answers that you seek…” Nanaya panted heavily, she now sported a swollen left eye and bright-red liquid ran down her bruised nose. Amos' offense had done quite a number on her face.

“Well, then…”

The girl took to the sky. Once she was high enough, she closed her eyes and channeled her mana, emitting a massive sphere of red aura floating just above her head. It began to take on a new shape, stretching outward as it was ovated into wedged-shaped layers. From where Amos was seated, he could make out the sphere’s shape.

“Let me show you my resolve!!”

Amos sat there staggered as he stared up at the large object. A flower?… No… a chrysanthemum × morifolium?

Nanaya grinned before bringing both of her arms downward. A mighty gale followed, nearing the wind speed of an F5 Tornado. The wind rushed through the cemetery as the roots of nearby bushes and shrubs and trees held on to the soil for dear life. The force pinned Amos to the tombstone as if holding him in place for the oncoming attack.

“Matsuga…” she uttered as her eyes produced an emerald luminescence. Her pale sundress and long golden tresses danced in the maelstrom.

Damn… She put everything she had into that previous attack… And she still has enough energy to spare?

With all feeling gone in his arms and legs, Amos could not move, let alone fight against this powerful wind. He could only watch as the red ball of aura shaped itself and dispersed into multiple flowers.

I never stood a chance…

“...HANA!!!!!!” The girl roared as the flowers rained down on him. The suffocating aura seeping from them told Amos that he would not survive should this attack land; the sheer amount of red light illuminating the cemetery around him was bound to get caught in the blast as well.

Suddenly, a humanoid figure in black dropped down from the sky, landing in front of Amos. Even with his crimson mask and blurred vision, he could make out the ethereal features of the girl staring back at him.

“...Fr… Frida?”

She nodded before standing up straight and turning to face the threat bearing down upon them.

The girl quickly shed her tops and began to change her form. Her skin transmogrified into sickly pale blue flesh, similar to Amos' temporary arm. She then stuck both hands into her chest and proceeded to rip open her torso, which made a gross peeling sound. The harsh snapping of bone filled the air as her rib cage sprung open like a bear trap, revealing an ominous black rift in the center.

“What?!” Nanaya's eyes widened in both wonder and fear.

The rift then began to vacuum the large sphere. The magnificent gale didn't seem to phase the undead girl one bit as her feet remained planted firmly on the ground. Nanaya watched helplessly as her strongest attack was being drawn into the girl's body.

“......”

As soon as the attack was fully absorbed, the undead girl's midsection made a gross squelching sound as it closed itself back up. She shifted back to her original appearance and threw her crimson shirt and black leather jacket back on as quickly as she removed them. Her Bon Appetit ability required her to be half nude from the waist up. Replacing her ruined clothes after every use would get quite expensive, so this was the best solution. Any normal person would have found the whole prospect embarrassing or unbecoming. Not this girl.

“Hmm.”

The girl then turned to gaze down at Amos. She had limestone skin, round pale green eyes, and long jet black hair tied into a single Artorian braid with a crimson ribbon on top. On the surface, Frida McCoy appeared to be the quintessential teenage beauty, but her speech easily betrayed her true age. Her aforementioned tops were paired with a black and white grid textured skirt, black leggings, and a pair of black platform boots. This outfit was a bit outside of the usual dress protocol for Eden Academy, let alone Order of Eve missions, but no one would dare tell the headmaster’s eldest ward what to do.

“Another one??” Nanaya growled.

After belching out a tiny orb of red light, which quickly dissipated, Frida's gaze shifted up at Nanaya, who was still in a state of utter disbelief. However, upon receiving the black-haired girl's gaze, she quickly returned the sentiment with an icy glare of her own. Amos could feel an overwhelming amount of aura emanating between both parties.

Nanaya brought her gaze over to Amos, back to Frida, then back to him. At that moment, Amos could tell what questions were swarming through her head judging by her dazed expression: Who was this strange girl? Where did she come from? And how was she able to absorb her strongest attack in mere seconds? His role was never to try and eliminate Subject-724 outright, all he had to do was to soften her up a bit until Frida swooped in for the kill. At least, that had been the plan they discussed just days prior. Her cue was far overdue.

Frida raised a hand to the air. Black aura coursed through her petite body as she made to cast a spell. While the cemetery no longer oozed with paranormal activity, a skilled necromancer like Frida, however, still had thousands of corpses at her disposal, putting Nanaya at a huge disadvantage.

The blonde girl's breath caught in her throat. Realizing the looming danger, she clenched her fists and muttered something to herself before swinging her arm clockwise. Suddenly, a giant rift opened up beside her, flowing with immense astral energy.

Amos' eyes widened. “A portal!?”

“She intends to flee!” Frida immediately lowered her arm, canceling her Raise Undead spell, but it was too late. Without hesitation, the girl swooped into the portal. Its surface rippled as her body passed through it, and her feet were the last thing they saw before her form completely vanished beyond the rift.

“Damn.” Frida clicked her tongue in annoyance as a pair of large bat-like wings sprouted from her back. Crouching, she balanced on the balls of her feet, preparing to leap into the air and give chase.

“Wait!” Amos called out to his sister, raising a hand to halt her. “Let her go.”

“Hm?” The jet-black girl furrowed an eyebrow. Watching the portal close, her large green eyes then flicked over to the boy, shooting a searching glance. After a few seconds, she snapped her fingers before pointing at him.

“Tracking device?”

“On the hem of her dress... It should pick up her location shortly…” The boy nodded before changing the subject. “You sure took your sweet time.” He grimaced, applying pressure to the wounds he was able to reach. “I know you were only testing me… but did you really... have to let her beat me to a pulp like that?”

“What was it that you were thinking before?” his sister asked with a rather dull look on her face, her voice devoid of any real emotion. Amos however knew her long enough to know when he was about to be mocked. She placed a finger on her chin, adding insult to injury. “‘Sorry, Frida, I may not need your help after all.’ It was something along those lines, yes?”

“That was a… a temporary lapse in judgment,” He smiled weakly, blood running down his mouth as he looked up at the girl. His head had hurt so much, that he had nearly forgotten that his mind had been intertwined with hers long ago. For as long as someone shares a blood pact with a vampire, the familiar's mind, body, and soul become an extension of their sire. Ergo, the sire can always see what their familiar sees, feel their every emotion, and hear just about every little thought that comes to mind.

“Uh-huh,” Frida said as she stood over him, dangling a bottle of green potion above his head. “Here, I need blood from you, so drink up.”

“Oh right. Th-thanks,” Amos said before he tried and failed to reach for the bottle. “H-Hey. I can't really feel my arm. Could you… help me out a bit?”

Frida sighed as she set down the bottle beside her before grabbing Amos and propping him down from the tombstone, laying him flat on his back.

“Ow, ow, ow!!” he yelled, raising his hand as high as he could in protest. “Please be gentle.”

“Beggars cannot be choosers.”

Frida sank to her knees. With the potion bottle in hand, she removed the cork…

“H-Hey, wait! You're supposed to shake those first! And you could at least sit me up before you—”

...and shoved the bottle into his mouth.

Amos coughed violently as he guzzled down the potion. As soon as the bottle was emptied, Frida sat him up and smacked his back a couple of times. His wounds were quickly beginning to disappear.

"There, there,” she said dryly as her brother continued to cough. “Did it go down okay?”

Does it look like it went down okay?!

“Augh! Well, that wasn't intentional at all, I'm sure,” Amos cringed. “And what's with this strange behavior? Watching you attempting to play ‘mother’ in any way shape or form is simply…off-putting to say the least.”

"Hmph. Well, you are most welcome, my dear brother." There was a heavy layer of sarcasm in her voice as she crawled between his legs. "Now, hold still…"

Frida drew closer, ripped the collar off of his skin-tight suit, extended her jaws, and sank her razor-sharp fangs into his exposed neck. Amos, who was used to having two-inch fangs lodged in his flesh by now, still found himself wincing ever so slightly.

(That Spectral Counter… It was much grander than the ones from previous missions.)

Frida's thoughts spoke to Amos, flowing through the boy's subconscious as she fed. Their telepathic bond was so strong, that only the world's most powerful psychics could pick up on their frequency.

(It is a sign that you are growing much stronger.)

(Do you really think so?) Amos answered. He didn't feel any stronger. If anything, his exchange with Nanaya proved that he still had a ways to go. No matter what he threw at her, she always seemed to have a counter. As frustrated as he was about that, of all things, the girl's outburst was still fresh on his mind. His physical wounds may have healed, but this wound felt different entirely.

(Worry not about what that girl said.) Surprisingly, Frida’s words sounded almost comforting. (Exorcising souls is a tremendous feat. Soon you will be strong enough to lift my curse.)

Amos gave a slight nod. The curse. Of course. That's what this all boiled down to in the end. Long ago, when the world was much different, his sister was born to a vampire and a lycan, making her a werepyre. Conception between the two races was forbidden at the time, and her hybrid blood had made her a pariah among the monster races, who deemed her an abomination. For the crime of simply existing, the Witches Council had cursed Frida with eternal life. She was then abandoned in the Great Forest of Everwood where she would spend this eternity terrorizing its inhabitants. However, the half-breed girl was soon discovered by the headmaster. With the promise of finding a way to break her curse, he took the werepyre girl in and raised her as his first ward for the next millennium.

Then, just five years ago, the headmaster approached the boy himself. Amos had no recollection of his life before that point, only his name and age. According to the master, his spectral magic was the key to freeing his sister from her curse and finally putting her to rest. This task was the main reason he was brought to this continent. Simply put, he had to do it if he wanted to remember everything.

He had only gotten this far because of Frida's training. The least he could do to repay the girl was to break her curse. I need to get stronger, he told himself. Her entire life, she has been denied the very thing that every person will one day experience. She's lived a long life, seen everything there is to see, and done everything there is to do. My sister is overdue for a well-earned rest... That much I owe her.

Amos resurfaced from his trance and found himself back in the cemetery. The brush in front of them swayed to and fro as a gust of wind blew upward and through the taller trees, shaking and rattling their poplar leaves. The cool breeze caressing his cheeks felt nice and refreshing after the agonizing pain he'd been through just moments before. He then lowered his gaze, eyes fixed on the one he called his sister. As expected, the werepyre girl was still feeding. In fact, she had been feeding for so long that his neck had grown numb. Even though the moonlight was now farther away, Frida's jet-black mane still glistened and sparkled under the luminescent beam, a lot like their target's hair had done forty minutes prior. Amos found himself momentarily enraptured by the rare sight, before quickly shaking his head in self-admonition.

While his sister continued her late-night bloody buffet, he reached up and flicked a familiar switch on his headset. “Wolf to The Garden…Come in Grand Fisher.”

Kaname answered the transmission almost immediately. “Wolf!!” she cried. There was a great deal of relief in her voice. “Thank the gods you’re alright! The feed got cut when you were engaging the target. We'd already thought the worst..."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Frida's with me now, so it's all good." He immediately thought of Christy when he asked his next question. "How much did you guys see?"

"We saw just about everything up until you got knocked away by that Matsuga…" There was a slight tremble in her voice. Their Eve comrades were like family to Kaname, Amos, especially so. And for a brief moment, she honestly thought that she had lost a little brother. "...and the camera died right when the target was going in for the kill.”

“Oh… and Twin Drills…?”

Kaname hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, she, um…” Amos could hear what sounded like a door being slammed in the background. “She just stepped out. I think it's safe to say that she may need a bit of time to herself.”

“I... I see...” Guilt washed over Amos. He knew all too well that he had a brutal tongue-lashing to look forward to when he got back home. Of course, she's angry. I broke my promise, why wouldn't she be? Sighing heavily at his looming troubles, he pulled out a handheld tablet. “The target managed to portal out of here. I'd placed a tracking device on her dress beforehand. I'm sending the map your way, now."

“Alright… Got it!” Kaname beamed before something immediately made her groan. “Ugh, wait, it needs to buffer first… This will take a sec.”

Kusanagi...

This may not have been the best time, but Amos couldn’t shake this nagging feeling, so he needed to ask. “Hey, so that girl… She said her name was Nanaya Kusanagi. You don't think…?”

“Hard to say for sure, but her appearance and DNA profile checks out. We can't really ignore her use of the Matsuga, either. It's a Kusanagi bloodline technique, after all.” She paused for a moment, perhaps to gather her thoughts. “Either we're dealing with a perfect clone created by those sickos… er, sorry, I mean our clients. Or we’ve all been lied to.”

“I see.”

Amos had detected an unusual note of bitterness in Kaname's voice as she spoke. That alone told him that none of this was sitting well with her, either. Thinking back to the headmaster’s urgency when he issued this mission, Amos didn’t need her to say it outright. All signs pointed to the latter. Nanaya Kusanagi's existence would only serve to reopen a case that the world was already trying to forget.

“If your life… and everyone in it was suddenly taken away from you in a single day...what would you do… if it meant that you could see them again?”

The blonde girl's question still lingered in his mind. Numerous questions of his own began to pile up, as Kaname's voice snapped him back to reality.

“I know what you’re thinking, Wolf. And trust me, I feel the same way, but we can't afford to dwell on that right now. We still have a job to do, don't we?”

“Yes, Senpai. We certainly do.”

He found the sincerity of his upperclassman's words comforting. After a few passing seconds, Kaname spoke again.

“Ah! It’s finally done… Ooh, it looks like she wound up in Marlia City."

"Enemy territory?” Frida queried as she finished her drink, licking the leftover blood from her lips. “Not ideal, but nowhere near a problem."

Well, it's about time she came up for air!

"Um, they have Project Galanga and Stardom as their protectors," said Amos matter-of-factly.

"Your point?"

“My point is if either of those factions were to catch wind of us, we’d have no other choice but to deal with them. Need I remind you that Project Galanga has Black Fang as their leader?”

"Hmm." Frida thought about it some more as she pulled a large band-aid from her pocket, peeled it from its wrapping, and stuck it over the boy's fresh bite mark. She then crossed her arms and frowned. “Black Fang… now there is a name. With a man like that at the helm, they do make quite the formidable faction… I suppose that may prove a bit of a problem.”

Amos tilted his head quizzically. "You suppose? The guy wrestles drop bears for fun and has even killed 20-foot-tall nightwalkers, and you’re telling me that you suppose?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm all for a good challenge, you know this, but for the sake of the mission, I don't think we're properly equipped to handle them."

Frida looked disappointed. “To think… that an incredibly craven response would come from one of my students. And from my own brother no less… Surely you did not learn such things from me.”

“Wha…?” Amos gaped at his older sister. “Cr-Craven?!” He was appalled, yet unsurprised at the habitual callousness of her remarks. “That isn’t craven, sister, it's just common sense!”

“Excuses.”

“Why do I even try?”

“Alright, you two, enough of your squabbling,” Kaname reprimanded with a light chuckle. “I’ve already dispatched Nano-chan and Spitfire. According to their intel, both Project Galanga and Stardom are currently preoccupied with another assignment near Everwood, so direct confrontation is avoidable. They've just uploaded their rendezvous point to our database. Be sure to meet with them there.”

A green ‘X’ icon appeared on Amos’ screen. He nodded.

“Got it.”

The plan was crystal clear. Right next to Marlia City was a town called Little Hōjo. The place was chock full of Kannagi and Onmyoji, meaning the number of wayward souls in that general area was significantly smaller than that of Holden Cemetery. Their target’s spectral magic wouldn’t be as powerful without a large pool of souls in her domain, thus, overwhelming her with numbers was the ideal strategy.

“And Wolf?” Kaname continued. “One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“You'll talk to Twin Drills when you get back, won't you? After she calms down, I mean.”

“Of course, I will, Senpai.” He answered her with no hesitation. Frida didn't say anything, but he could feel her eyes boring into him.

“Good. ‘Cause I need you guys on the same page if we're going to be working together.” Kaname spoke in a very frank tone. “Sometimes she can be a bit much, but she does mean well. You should know this by now. I'm sure you guys can come to some sort of an understanding if you just talked to each other more, y'know?”

“Understood,” he affirmed, feeling a wave of newfound confidence. “That's what I'm hoping for as well. Although… This isn't the first time I've angered her like this. Are you sure she'd even hear me out?”

“Definitely! Well… I mean after she's done pumping you full of holes if we're being honest.”

Unfortunately, that confidence didn’t last very long.

“You just had to go and make it scary again, didn't you, Senpai?”

“Tee-hee!”

Amos thought it best to cross that bridge when he came to it. In the meantime, they still had a target to eliminate. He looked over to Frida and gave her a nod.

“You ready, partner?”

“I am always ready,” Frida stated coldly. “You are the one who always needs tending to.”

“Well, I’m sorry that we all can't have your absolute healing factor, sis,” Amos mocked, walking over to pick up his sword and return it to its sheath. "And besides, what do you mean that I always need tending to? Did I not just feed you??”

“That... is expected when you enter a blood pact with my kind,” she remarked. "You are merely fulfilling a legal obligation.”

“What does that have to do with…? Ugh! Whatever.” As he walked back over to her, Amos heaved a sigh, realizing there was no point in arguing with someone who could kill him, resurrect him, and then kill him again. While she had never done this to him, he'd seen her do it to others. Amos knew he was valuable to Frida, but given her mastery in necromancy and the utter ferocity of her wrath, chances were, even he wasn't safe. And he for one, didn't dare test his luck.

Ungrateful old hag… Just then, a thought he had fought hard to suppress slipped out into their shared mind. Shocked by his carelessness, Amos clamped his hand over his mouth as if he'd said the insult aloud. Frida's head snapped in his direction, her green wolf-like eyes emitting a faint glow.

(I heard that.)

(I, uh... No, you didn't.)

(I most certainly did.)

(Did not.)

(Did so.)

As their strange telepathic sibling row ended in a momentary draw, Frida spread her wings once again and walked over to the boy. “Mm. We have dawdled long enough,” she said. “I shall deal with you later. At present, let us refocus on our mission. Now, on your knees.”

Amos knelt before her, his arm stretched out to the side. The werepyre circled the boy and knelt behind him, her chin resting on his shoulder. She then wrapped her thin arms around his waist, securing him. Frida readied her wings as she extended her right knee, her foot flat on the ground. She was getting ready to take off.

The boy nodded. “Alright, let's do this!”

“Amos, do not shout when you are so close to my ears. It is quite distracting.”

“S-Sorry.”

With that, Frida's wings beat frantically a few times before she used her right foot to launch them into the cold night air. As they soared higher and higher, Amos took in his surroundings. In no time at all, the shrubs, trees, and tombstones below became indiscernible. As the two began their flight down south, Amos glanced over to his left and peered down at his amputation.

Images of Nanaya's face flashed through his mind's eye. At once, the girl was standing across from him in the endless void. Her eyes welled up and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her lips were moving. He couldn't hear her, but somehow he still made out the words: Why? Why did you do it? How could you? Her gaze was drawn deep into his soul, searching for an answer. Unable to come up with one, Amos simply stared back in silence, hating himself for it. A sudden gust of wind broke the awkward hush between them, and the gale swept at her long blonde hair. And then, she was gone.

Huh…? No, wait, come back!

In the blink of an eye, Amos was once again soaring through the night in the clutches of the werepyre girl, the moon, and The Yolk in full view. Amos cursed under his breath, he still didn't have a firm grasp on his Spectral Counter and this frustrated him. Despite his sister's words of encouragement, the barefoot girl's tears remained vivid in his head, her harsh words echoed in his ears.

“You…Because of your actions…My friends…they are forever lost! I was mistaken…you are nothing like me…”

Those words had bothered him something fierce and he still couldn't make sense of any of it. No one had ever made him feel this way before. And little did he know... a violent storm was beginning to brew inside his chest.

END

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