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enemiestolovershoe · 2 months ago

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Bandaged Hearts

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

Summary: YN, a nurse, joins Bad Omens on tour and quickly finds herself patching up chaos. Especially when Noah keeps needing her help more than anything.

Words: 13.3k

Warnings: mention of blood and burn-out, noah crying a lot, smut p in v, oral male recieving, mention of alcohol and drunk people, probably wrong medical stuff

A/N: Some of you may know that I struggled with burn-out not long ago and wanted to write down my feelings in a story

Disclaimer: While the characters in this story are inspired by real people, the events and interactions are purely fictional and not reflective of reality.

When you decided to become a nurse after high school, you never imagined you’d one day find yourself on tour with four rock stars. Yet, somehow, here you were.

Bad Omens had decided they needed a nurse on tour. Mostly because Noah, along with the others had a bad habit of getting hurt during their Europe leg. In addition to that, there was an unusually high number of fans passing out at shows. Matt, their manager and sound engineer, figured it was time to bring someone along full-time. Someone they could trust.

And that’s where you came in.

You and Matt had known each other since high school. You weren't inseparable, but you'd been close once. Over the years, life got in the way, and your conversations had dwindled down to the occasional “Happy birthday” or “Hope you’re doing good” over DM. Nothing serious. So when Matt’s name popped up in your inbox one evening, it caught you completely off guard.

At first, you stared at the message for a solid five minutes, wondering if he sent it by mistake.

mattxdierkes: hey, random question. u still a nurse?

Your brows furrowed. Was he sick? Did he need help? You typed back, thumbs quick on the screen:

You: hey lol yeah i am. everything okay??

The typing bubble popped up immediately.

mattxdierkes: yeah! all good. actually, i might have a weird offer for you.

mattxdierkes: you busy for the next one and a half months?

You sat up a little straighter, heart kicking up.

You: uhh depends?? why?

mattxdierkes: wanna come on tour with me and bad omens? we need a nurse. for real lol.

You: wait WHAT??

mattxdierkes: seriously. think about it. it's chaos out here. noah’s been hurt like 5x already. fans are passing out left and right.

You laughed under your breath, already feeling the rush of adrenaline. Without thinking twice, you fired back:

You: YES. absolutely yes. get me out of this hospital pls.

Matt sent back a string of clapping emojis and a "let's goooo."

You weren’t exaggerating. You were desperate to get out of the hospital you were currently working at. The place was a mess. Short-staffed, overworked, and management was a nightmare. Touring with a rock band felt like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of escape.

And honestly? You needed it.

Which led you here, standing awkwardly at LAX next to the guys from Bad Omens, waiting for your flight to the first stop of the tour. Your suitcases, packed half with your own stuff and half with an overwhelming amount of medical supplies, getting a lot of suspicious looks from security.

A TSA agent flagged you down, pointing at your gear. “What exactly are you transporting, miss?”

You fumbled to pull out your hospital badge. “I’m a registered nurse," you explained quickly. "I’m touring with a band. It's all first aid stuff, I swear.”

The agent wasn’t impressed. "We're going to have to check everything manually."

Cue you, practically begging, “Please, I have to have this. I can show you everything. I’ll unpack it here if you want. Just, please, don’t throw anything away.”

Luckily, after what felt like a lifetime and some intense pleading, they let you through. You shuffled back over to where the band was lounging near the gate.

Noah, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a hoodie pulled low over his eyes, looked up and smirked. "That took forever. Are you smuggling something in a portable hospital or something?"

You rolled your eyes, dropping into a seat beside Matt. "If you keep getting hurt, you're gonna thank me for every Band-Aid in those bags."

Jolly, who was scrolling on his phone, glanced up and grinned. "She’s right. Noah’s a walking disaster."

Matt chuckled, bumping your shoulder with his. "Told you we needed her."

Bryan, sipping a coffee, added, “Just wait till Tomorrow. You haven't seen chaos yet.”

You laughed, already feeling strangely at ease with them.

The flight itself was long but mostly uneventful. You spent most of it flipping through your notes, double-checking that you had packed everything you'd need. When you finally landed and made your way out to the tour buses, you expected to be loaded onto one with the rest of the crew. Other techs, assistants, security. Instead, Matt threw his arm around your shoulders and steered you towards a different bus. “You’re with us,” he said simply.

You blinked. “Wait, with you? Like... with the band?”

Matt laughed. “Yeah. Better to have you close. Trust me, they’re gonna need you."

You climbed aboard, a little stunned, and found a spot by the window. The bus was nicer than you’d expected. Still cramped, but cozy, lived-in. Guitars leaned against the walls. There were random shoes, hoodies, and open bags scattered around. It smelled like cologne and Red Bull.

As the sun dipped lower over the Colorado landscape, painting the sky in oranges and pinks, you settled in, staring out the window in awe.

You didn’t get long to soak it in.

"Uh, nurse!"

You turned to see Noah jogging toward you, clutching his nose, blood streaming down his upper lip.

You scrambled up. "What the hell happened?!"

He grinned sheepishly, blood smeared across his teeth. "Got hit in the face with a soccer ball. Bryan’s got a hell of a kick."

You burst out laughing despite yourself. “Wow, that was fast. Matt didn’t lie about you being a magnet for disaster.”

Noah wiped his hand on his hoodie. "Yeah, well... consider this your welcome gift."

You ushered him over to a bench, pulling out your kit like second nature. "Sit. Tilt your head forward. Not back, you’ll swallow it."

He obeyed, and you expertly pinched the bridge of his nose, grabbing gauze from your bag. “You think you broke it?” you asked, examining the angle.

"Nope. Still pretty," Noah said, grinning at you under his hands.

You rolled your eyes. "Debatable."

Nicholas came up behind him, laughing. "Five minutes on the road and you’re already getting patched up. New record, man."

Jolly leaned against the doorframe, watching. "Should we start a bet? How many times Noah ends up in her care before the tour’s over?"

Matt clapped his hands together. "I’m saying... twenty."

“Twenty?” you gasped, laughing as you taped gauze under Noah’s nose. “You think he’s gonna survive twenty incidents?”

Matt winked. “Optimism, baby.”

Once Noah was fixed up, he sprinted off after the others like nothing happened, yelling about a rematch.

You shook your head, chuckling, wiping your hands with sanitizer. “I’m gonna need hazard pay,” you muttered.

Matt dropped into the seat next to you, tossing you a water bottle. “You’re gonna need a vacation after this tour.”

As the bus rumbled to life and pulled onto the highway, you leaned back, heart hammering in a mix of excitement and nerves. Tomorrow was the first show. You couldn’t lie. You were thrilled... but also kind of terrified.

You’d heard most Bad Omens fans were incredible. Sweet, loyal, passionate.

But you’d also heard the horror stories. The ones who crossed the line. Who could get a little too intense.

You swallowed hard, trying not to overthink it. You were here for a reason. You could handle it.

Before you could spiral into anxiety, the steady hum of the bus and the exhaustion from the day caught up with you, and you drifted off to sleep with the Colorado sunset burning behind your eyelids.

May 4th, 2023. Greenwood Village, CO

It was the first night of the US leg of the tour.

The show had just ended, and the air was thick, electric with adrenaline, sweat, and that heady buzz that only comes after a live show. Voices echoed in the distance, roadies shouting instructions, the hum of equipment being packed up filling the background.

You were near the stairs, crouched down, carefully repacking your first aid kit. All in all, it hadn’t been a bad night. Only two fans had fainted. Way less than you had mentally prepared for.

You blew out a quiet breath, feeling the tension slowly start to leave your body. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be as crazy as you thought.

But then you heard it.

Folio's voice was sharp and low. Cutting through the noise.

"Noah, dude. Are you fucking bleeding?"

Your head snapped up so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash, the ice pack you were holding slipping from your hand and hitting the ground with a soft thud.

The others turned too. Jolly, who had been laughing with Nicholas a second earlier, immediately went serious. Bryan swore under his breath and started making his way over. Matt was already striding across the floor with a grim look on his face.

You rushed forward, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Noah was limping slightly, the hem of his shirt torn and stained dark. A deep, ugly gash ran along his left side just under his ribs. Blood was soaking through the fabric, the red spreading fast, and though his face was mostly stoic, you caught the tightness around his mouth, the way his jaw was clenched.

"What the fuck happened?" you demanded, pulling on gloves as you closed the distance.

Noah gave a lopsided shrug, the movement making him wince. "Crowd was fucking insane. I went down to the barricade and..."

He hissed as you pulled the hem of his shirt up to inspect the damage.

"Someone had sharp rings or something. I don't know," he gritted out.

"Jesus, Noah," you muttered under your breath, already reaching for antiseptic.

You eased him down into a nearby folding chair, steadying him with a hand on his good side. He sank into it with a grunt, his fingers curling tightly around the seat.

As you peeled the bloodied fabric back more, you got a better look at the wound. It was deep. Deeper than you’d hoped.

"This needs stitches," you said, your voice firm.

Noah tensed the second the antiseptic touched the wound, a sharp breath hissing through his teeth.

"I’ll be fine," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just slap a Band-Aid on it."

You shot him a look so sharp it could cut through steel. "Yeah, not happening."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, cocky and stubborn as ever. But the pain was starting to show through now, flashing in his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

"Stay still," you ordered, reaching for your suture kit.

Around you, the other guys hovered. Nicholas running a hand through his hair, looking stressed. Folio pacing a few steps away, muttering curses. Jolly standing silently with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed in worry. Matt leaned against the wall nearby, arms folded, watching with a grim set to his mouth.

"You need to be more careful," you muttered under your breath as you threaded the needle, your fingers steady despite the adrenaline thrumming through you.

"Some of your fans are sweet," you said, glancing up at him as you tied off the thread. "Some of them are psychos."

Noah chuckled low in his throat, though it quickly morphed into a grimace of pain.

"Please," he said, gritting his teeth as you pushed the needle through his skin, "you sound like Matt now."

Matt snorted in the corner, shaking his head. "Because I'm right."

You focused on your work, the neat, practiced rhythm of stitching. "You keep playing tough with them, you’re gonna run out of skin to patch," you said under your breath.

Noah was quiet for a second.

Then, softer, he said, "Good thing I’ve got you then."

You felt your face heat up slightly, but you didn’t let it show. You just smirked a little to yourself, tying off the last stitch with a neat knot.

Behind you, Matt groaned dramatically. "Oh my God. I’m gonna puke," he said, rolling his eyes so hard you were sure he saw his own brain.

Nicholas barked out a laugh, and even Jolly cracked a smile.

You sat back, snapping your gloves off with a satisfied little pop.

"There," you said, giving Noah a pointed look. "You're patched up. Try not to get stabbed again for at least twenty-four hours."

Noah grinned at you, lopsided and a little too charming for someone who was literally dripping blood a few minutes ago.

"No promises," he said.

Matt muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "fucking idiot," under his breath, but there was no real heat behind it.

You grabbed fresh gauze and tape, wrapping Noah's side carefully while the others started gathering their stuff for load-out.

The adrenaline was still buzzing in your veins, but under it, there was something else too.

Something steady.

A feeling that maybe, just maybe, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

May 6th, 2023. Atlantic City, NJ

Two days later, chaos found you again.

The bus door slammed open with a loud bang, rattling against the hinges. You jerked your head up from where you were sitting, surrounded by a mess of supplies. You were halfway through reorganizing your gear case.

Noah stumbled inside, grinning like an absolute maniac, breathing hard like he’d just sprinted across the lot.

"Yo!" he gasped, practically bouncing on his heels.

You narrowed your eyes immediately, already suspicious. "What?" you asked, your voice wary.

Noah didn’t say anything right away. He just lifted his shirt.

Your stomach dropped.

Three of the stitches you had so carefully placed had split open. Blood welled up, fresh and vivid, a dark smear against the pale skin of his side.

"Noah..." you groaned, your voice filled with exhausted disbelief.

He winced, but still somehow managed to look smug. "I was just messing around with Nick and Jolly," he said, like that somehow made it better. "Someone shoved me."

You dropped your forehead briefly into your hand, inhaling deeply before forcing yourself into motion.

"You're unbelievable," you muttered, already snapping on a pair of gloves and grabbing fresh gauze from your kit.

Noah flopped down onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, spreading his arms over the back like he hadn’t just reopened a literal wound.

"You need to be more careful, Noah," you said, voice sharper now as you knelt beside him.

He shrugged one shoulder, the motion stiff. "It didn’t hurt at first," he admitted, watching you work.

"That's because you're running on fumes and pure stubbornness," you said, pressing gauze firmly against the bleeding. He winced but didn’t pull away.

This time, the mood shifted.

Noah grew quieter, less cocky. The air between you softened, humming with something you didn’t dare name yet.

He watched you from under his lashes as you cleaned the wound carefully. His voice, when he spoke next, was softer. Almost shy.

"I like it when you fix me up," he said, almost whispering.

Your hands faltered for a fraction of a second before you quickly busied yourself threading the needle again.

"Stop needing to be fixed," you muttered back, not daring to meet his eyes.

You placed the last stitch with careful, practiced movements, tying it off neatly. You grabbed a large band-aid from your kit and smoothed it over the fresh stitches with a gentle touch.

Just as you were finishing, the bus door swung open again.

Matt stepped inside, sunglasses perched on his head, a coffee in one hand and pure exasperation written all over his face.

"Seriously, Noah? Again?" Matt said, staring at the scene like he was physically in pain.

Noah immediately pointed an accusing finger at the empty air behind Matt. "Nicolas shoved me!" he blurted defensively.

Matt snorted, completely unimpressed. "Yeah, and I'm sure you were being a perfect angel, huh?"

Noah grinned wide, still unapologetic.

Matt turned his gaze to you, raising his coffee cup slightly in salute. "Well, Y/N, good thing I brought you along," he said, shaking his head with a laugh.

You finished taping down the bandage and sat back on your heels, glaring playfully at Noah.

"At this rate," you said dryly, "I'm gonna need a punch card for every time I patch him up. Free coffee on your tenth visit or something."

Matt laughed, ruffling Noah’s hair roughly as he walked by.

"Just try not to need a full body cast before the end of the week, alright?" Matt called over his shoulder as he disappeared toward the back of the bus.

Noah looked down at you, a lazy smile pulling at his mouth, the trouble still glittering behind his eyes.

"No promises," he said, his voice low and teasing.

You shook your head at him, trying and failing to hide the little smile tugging at your lips as you began cleaning up your supplies again.

May 12th, 2023. Oklahoma City, OK

It started subtly.

At first, you almost missed it.

Noah still laughed, but a little less each day. His smile was still there too, but it no longer touched his eyes.

He pounded back energy drinks like they were oxygen, but his untouched plates after catering told a different story.

The dark circles under his eyes deepened, blooming like bruises only you seemed to notice.

So you started watching him. Closer.

During soundcheck, you kept your gaze on him between pretending to organize your kit.

Backstage, when the others joked and killed time, you caught him zoning out.

Even during the shows, when you usually hung out by the side of the stage, half-watching, half-on alert for emergencies. Your eyes always found him.

You saw it happen once. Just once.

A missed cue.

No one said anything, and the fans probably didn’t notice.

But you caught the way his whole body stiffened, the way his jaw clenched like he was trying to hold in a scream.

You didn’t say anything then. Not yet.

Tonight wasn’t any different.

Noah hadn’t eaten a single thing all day.

You noticed.

And from the look Jolly shot him as they prepped for the show, you knew he noticed too.

"Yo, dude. You good?" Jolly asked, keeping his voice casual but his eyes sharp. He was standing a few feet away, bass slung over his shoulder, adjusting his strap absently.

Noah barely looked up from where he was tuning his mic.

"You look like you haven't slept in like a month," Jolly added, his tone light but his frown deepening.

"I'm fine," Noah said immediately, a little too fast, a little too sharp.

You crossed your arms, leaning against a case of cables.

"You've said that every day," you muttered under your breath, not even bothering to mask the doubt in your voice.

For the first time, Noah really looked at you.

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, like he hadn’t expected you to call him out. Like he hadn’t realized you'd been watching him this closely.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching up automatically, but it didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.

You caught Folio’s eye across the room as he slipped his sticks into his back pocket.

He gave you a small nod, subtle but clear. He saw it too.

"Watch him tonight," Folio said quietly, lowering his voice as he moved closer to you. His shoulder brushed yours briefly, grounding you in the buzzing chaos of the backstage area.

"He's burnin' at both ends," Folio murmured, his eyes following Noah’s hunched figure as he adjusted his mic stand again, like if he just tweaked it a little more, maybe everything else would fall into place too.

You nodded slowly, feeling that same knot tighten in your chest.

"He’s been like that for a while now," Folio added, his voice almost lost under the thrum of bass leaking from the stage monitors.

You stayed quiet for a moment, watching Noah’s hands tremble slightly as he tightened a strap that didn’t need tightening.

Something had to give.

You just hoped you noticed before it did.

May 17th, 2023. Birmingham, AL

The venue was pure chaos.

Crew members shouted over each other, cables snaked like vines across the floor, and Matt was in the center of it all, pacing back and forth with his headset slipping off one ear, practically vibrating with frustration.

"I swear, if this rig doesn’t work..." Matt barked into his iPad, jabbing at the screen like it personally offended him. His voice was sharp, his free hand tugging at his hair as he disappeared backstage again, still muttering threats under his breath.

You caught Noah sitting off to the side, slouched deep into the corner of a battered leather couch, a strange calm settled over him.

Too calm.

You made your way over, weaving through the equipment cases and stressed-out techs, and dropped down beside him.

Without thinking, you reached out and ran your hand gently along his arm, grounding him, needing the contact almost as much as he did.

"Relieved?" you asked quietly, keeping your voice low so it wouldn’t get swallowed by the madness around you.

He shrugged, a hollow, almost resigned gesture.

"If we can’t play," he said, his tone light but empty, "I can’t fail tonight."

Your stomach twisted sharply.

"Noah..." you said, leaning in closer, wishing he would really hear you. "You don’t fail. You play your heart out. You are human, Noah."

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, twisting the fabric like he needed something to do with his hands.

"Some nights," he finally said, voice low, almost like he was talking to himself, "it’s all muscle memory. I’m not even there anymore."

The admission hit you harder than you expected.

You wanted to say something. Anything. Anything to pull him back from wherever his mind was spiraling.

But before you could find the words, Matt stormed past again, looking like he was two seconds from throwing the iPad across the venue.

"We go live in twenty or we cancel!" Matt barked, whirling around. "I need a decision, Noah!"

Noah didn’t even flinch.

He just kept staring at the floor, like Matt’s voice was miles away.

He didn’t answer.

You bit your lip, heart pounding. You reached out again, this time catching his hand, lacing your fingers through his. You squeezed gently, trying to anchor him back to you, to now.

"Are you okay?" you asked, barely above a whisper.

For a second, he just looked at your hands, at the way your fingers were twined with his.

Then he lifted his gaze to yours.

All the walls he usually kept up. The jokes, the stubbornness, the cocky smiles. They were gone.

Just him. Raw. Tired. Frayed at every edge.

"No," he said quietly.

And the honesty in that one word nearly broke you.

May 18th, 2023. Chattanooga, TN

The day was brutal.

The kind of heat that clung to your skin like syrup, thick and heavy, making it hard to even think about moving.

It was 103 degrees outside and somehow even hotter inside the venue.

Everyone was soaked through, faces flushed, moving like they were dragging invisible weights behind them.

Everyone except Noah.

He tore around the place like a man possessed.

Running from soundcheck, to fan meet-and-greets, to helping the crew set up some lighting rig he probably had no business touching.

You watched him dart past again, carrying a case that looked twice his size, face red and sweat dripping down his neck. Like he thought if he just moved fast enough, he could outrun the exhaustion setting into his bones.

You snapped.

"Hydrate or I’m taping you to a chair!" you yelled, loud enough that a few heads turned.

Noah barely even slowed down.

He shot you a breathless grin over his shoulder.

"After the set!" he called back like it was a promise and not a blatant lie.

You let out a frustrated groan and turned, locking eyes with Jolly across the stage.

He gave you a look. One of those yep, he’s gonna crash and burn looks.

You returned it with a sharp nod.

Jolly wasn’t stupid. He knew it too.

Noah was running on empty, stubbornness, and whatever caffeine he could find lying around.

You pressed the heel of your hand to your forehead, feeling the heat and the headache building behind your eyes.

You needed to talk to Matt.

You wanted to talk to Matt.

You had tried, more than once.

But every time you cornered him. Backstage, by the bus, anywhere you could grab five minutes, something pulled him away.

A tech problem.

A schedule change.

Another fan emergency.

And meanwhile, Noah just kept pushing himself harder, burning brighter, burning faster.

You clenched your fists at your sides, watching him disappear into the maze of cables and crew.

You were running out of time to stop him before he finally broke.

After the final chord of the set rang out, the lights dropped, the roar of the crowd echoing through the venue like a heartbeat.

And so did he.

One second Noah was standing behind the curtain, the adrenaline still buzzing off him in waves.

The next, he crumpled to the floor.

For a moment, everything else stopped.

The world narrowed to a single point.

Folio was the first to move.

"Shit! Someone get over here!" he shouted, his drumsticks clattering to the ground as he dropped down beside Noah.

You sprinted across the stage, heart hammering against your ribs so hard it hurt.

"Hydration tab, now! Get water! Cold towels!" you barked, voice slicing through the confusion.

Jolly didn’t hesitate, bolting toward the coolers.

Nicholas was already shouting at the nearby staff, waving them frantically over.

You dropped to your knees beside Noah, hands moving without even thinking.

You pressed your palm to his cheek and forehead.

It was burning hot, skin flushed and damp with sweat.

"Noah," you whispered, leaning close. "Hey, come on, open your eyes."

Slowly, like it physically hurt him to do it, his eyelids fluttered.

Glassiness swam in his gaze as he tried to focus on you.

"Fuck..." he croaked, voice hoarse and ragged. "Did I pass out?"

You exhaled sharply, part relief, part frustration, part absolute panic.

"Yes, you did," you snapped, yanking a cold towel from Jolly’s hand the second he reappeared.

"And next time you ignore me," you added, pressing the towel to the back of Noah's neck, "I'm dragging you off stage myself."

A weak, lopsided smile ghosted across Noah’s lips.

"Can’t tell if you’re mad or worried," he muttered, trying to joke, but even that sounded strained.

"Both," you said, voice cracking despite yourself.

The tears stung the corners of your eyes but you blinked them back fiercely, refusing to lose it here.

You heard Matt cursing under his breath behind you but you barely registered anything except Noah.

He let his head loll back, breathing shallow and uneven, trusting you to put him back together again.

Back at the bus, you didn’t leave his side.

You hovered like a ghost, silently switching out cold towels, forcing him to sip water every twenty minutes, even when he tried to bat your hands away with sleepy protests.

Every time he drifted too far, every time his skin stayed too hot for too long, your chest tightened painfully.

You watched him carefully, the way someone watches something precious they are terrified of losing.

Because no matter how stubborn he was, no matter how much he tried to hide it...

Tonight proved it.

He wasn’t invincible.

May 19th, 2023. Asheville, NC

You couldn’t find Noah anywhere after the soundcheck.

It wasn’t like him to just vanish.

Not unless something was really wrong.

You asked around but no one had seen him.

Finally, Folio caught your sleeve as you passed, his face creased with worry.

"Check the hallway behind the storage crates," he said quietly. "He’s... he’s not doing great."

Your heart dropped.

You moved quickly, weaving past cases and gear and tangled cables until the hallway narrowed and dimmed.

And there he was.

Curled up in a corner, half hidden by towering crates, hoodie pulled up over his head like a shield.

His hands were trembling visibly.

His knees were drawn up to his chest, and his face was buried deep into his folded arms.

It looked like he wanted to disappear.

You sank slowly beside him, careful not to startle him.

"Hey..." you said softly.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t lift his head.

Didn’t even flinch.

"I brought snacks and sarcasm," you added, trying to coax a smile out of him. "Best of both worlds."

Still nothing.

The silence between you stretched long and thin.

You hesitated for a second, then reached out, placing your hand gently on his shoulder.

He flinched but didn’t pull away.

And then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he whispered,

"I don’t feel like me anymore."

Your chest ached so fiercely it hurt to breathe.

You squeezed his shoulder, grounding him.

"You don’t have to feel okay all the time," you said, voice barely above a whisper.

"You just have to let someone in, Noah."

He finally lifted his head a little, just enough for you to see his face.

Red-rimmed eyes. Tear tracks glistening on flushed cheeks.

The kind of broken look that cracked you right down the middle.

"I’m fine," he rasped, but his voice was so raw, so hollow, it shattered the lie before it even finished leaving his mouth.

"You’re crying," you pointed out softly, not accusing, just stating the truth he didn’t want to admit.

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t make some sarcastic remark to deflect.

He just wiped at his face angrily with the sleeve of his hoodie, like he could erase the weakness if he scrubbed hard enough.

"I don’t know how to keep up anymore," he whispered, voice cracking.

"Every night I feel like I’m falling apart. And I still go back out there... like it’s nothing. Like I’m supposed to pretend it doesn’t feel like everything inside me is breaking."

You slid closer, closing the distance between you until your knees bumped.

You didn’t say anything yet.

You just sat with him in the dark.

Letting him know he wasn’t alone.

He let out a shaky breath, hands digging into his hair, gripping it like he was trying to hold himself together by sheer force.

"It’s like... like no matter what I do, it’s never enough," he choked out.

"I scream my lungs out and I still wonder if they even hear me. I give everything and I still feel empty. I get up there every night and... it’s like... it’s like I’m screaming into a void that doesn’t care if I bleed."

The words tumbled out faster now, years of pressure cracking wide open.

His whole body was shaking.

You could see how hard he was trying not to completely fall apart.

But it was too much.

Finally, finally, the dam broke.

Noah pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, shoulders shaking with the force of the sobs he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Harsh, broken sounds ripped from his chest, and you didn’t hesitate. You pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around him tight, letting him bury his face into your shoulder.

"I’m right here," you murmured, rocking him slightly as he fell apart in your arms.

"You don’t have to do this alone. You’re not alone, Noah."

He clung to you like you were the only thing keeping him from falling through the cracks.

May 21st, 2023. Myrtle Beach, SC

Matt scratched the back of his neck, wincing like he was about to get punched.

"Okay, uh… so I messed up the hotel reservations," he said, not meeting your eyes.

You blinked at him.

Noah, standing beside you, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"How bad?" Noah asked flatly.

Matt grimaced. "You two have to share a room."

Noah's brow lifted higher, amused. "One bed?"

Matt nodded, looking thoroughly miserable. "Yeah. I booked a room too less. It’s either share or one of you sleeps in the hallway."

You exchanged a glance with Noah. He shrugged, not looking particularly bothered.

"Fine by me," he said, already grabbing his bag. "Not the weirdest thing that's happened this week."

Later that night, the room was quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioner.

You lay in bed, facing the ceiling, your body exhausted but your mind buzzing.

Across from you, you heard Noah tossing and turning, the sheets rustling with every frustrated movement.

You turned your head toward him.

"Noah?" you whispered into the dark.

No answer.

Only the faintest sound of whimpering.

You sat up quickly, heart tightening painfully in your chest.

He was thrashing lightly, trapped somewhere deep inside a nightmare.

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his arm.

He jerked awake with a sharp gasp, body tensing under your touch. His eyes were wide and wild, chest heaving like he couldn’t get enough air.

"Hey, hey," you said softly, keeping your voice low and soothing. "It’s just me. You’re safe. I’m right here."

He blinked rapidly, trying to reorient himself.

Sweat clung to his forehead, and his whole body trembled.

"I’m here," you repeated, sliding a little closer so he could see you clearly. "You’re okay, Noah. It’s over."

He nodded shakily and laid back down, but you could still see the way his hands fisted into the sheets, how hard he was breathing like the fear hadn’t left him yet.

You hesitated, then asked gently, "Wanna talk about it?"

He didn’t answer right away.

For a moment, you thought he might brush it off like he usually did.

But then, voice rough and broken, he whispered,

"I dreamt... I dreamt that I was on stage and the lights were so bright, I couldn’t see. I kept singing but... no one was there. The whole place was empty."

You listened, heart breaking all over again.

"I screamed until my throat bled," he continued, voice cracking. "But there was just... silence. Nothing. No one cared. I was just... standing there, bleeding and screaming into nothing."

His voice broke completely then, a sharp, aching sound he couldn’t hide.

Tears slid down his cheeks, and he angrily wiped at them, frustrated at himself for crying.

Without thinking, you shifted closer and pulled him gently into your arms.

At first, he stiffened, like he wasn’t sure he deserved the comfort.

But then he sagged against you, all the fight draining from him.

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, letting him bury his face against your shoulder.

He clung to you like a lifeline, silent tears soaking into your shirt.

"I’ve got you," you murmured into his hair, one hand stroking slow, steady circles across his back.

"You’re not alone, Noah. You’re never alone."

He didn’t speak again.

Eventually, his breathing evened out, his body relaxing bit by bit as exhaustion pulled him under.

You stayed awake a while longer, holding him, making sure the nightmares stayed away.

May 23rd, 2023. Raleigh, NC

Noah had stormed off after the set, slipping away before anyone could stop him.

Now, hours later, the exhaustion was bone-deep.

You and Folio had spent the night combing the streets around the hotel, scanning alleys and bars and parking lots with growing desperation.

Jolly and Nicholas stayed back by the bus, just in case Noah circled back on his own.

Matt paced the hotel lobby, phone glued to his ear, barking into voicemails that never got answered.

By 2 AM, you and Folio finally dragged yourselves back to the lobby, shoulders slumped, defeated.

Matt sat hunched in an armchair, head buried in his hands. He looked up at the sound of the doors swinging open.

"Nothing?" Matt asked, voice raw.

You opened your mouth to answer, but the hotel door creaked again.

Everyone's head snapped toward the entrance.

Noah stood there.

Eyes glassy and distant.

Blood dripping from his hand.

His hoodie was half-off one shoulder, his knuckles scraped raw.

"Noah," you gasped, breaking into a sprint. You reached him first, hands hovering, unsure where to touch. "What did you do?"

He gave a crooked, exhausted smile.

"Got into a fight. With a wall. I think the wall won."

You turned sharply to look at Matt, then at Folio.

"Noah… are you drunk?" Matt asked carefully, stepping closer.

Noah shrugged, swaying slightly on his feet. "Maybe?"

Without another word, you took his arm. Gently but firmly and started leading him toward the elevators.

Matt and Folio were right behind you.

"I’m gonna text Jolly and Nicholas. Let them know we found him," Matt muttered, pulling out his phone.

In the elevator, the silence was heavy.

Noah leaned against the wall, eyes half-shut, a thin trail of blood still dripping onto the floor.

You squeezed his arm lightly, a silent reassurance.

Back in your hotel room, Noah slumped down at the end of the bed without needing to be told.

Folio dropped onto the mattress beside him, keeping a steady hand on Noah’s back to ground him.

Matt helped you drag out your medical kit, spreading gauze, antiseptic, and bandages across the desk.

"Alright, superhero," you said softly, kneeling in front of him. "Let’s see the damage."

You pulled a pair of gloves on and gently took his hand. His knuckles were split open, deep enough that the blood still oozed slow and steady.

You cleaned the wounds carefully, muttering soothing nonsense under your breath.

Noah hissed once when the antiseptic hit, but otherwise stayed quiet, gaze locked somewhere far away.

You stitched him up slowly, methodically, threading needle through torn skin while Folio kept a steadying hand on his shoulder.

You wrapped his hand tightly in clean bandages, smoothing the tape down with extra care.

Just as you were finishing the last knot, Noah’s voice broke the silence.

A whisper. Barely audible.

"I can't do this anymore."

Everything in the room froze.

Matt’s head snapped up. Folio’s hand stilled against Noah’s back.

You looked up at him, heart thudding.

Matt was the first to speak. "Do what?" he asked, voice rough with confusion.

Before Noah could choke out a reply, you answered for him, standing slowly, your hands trembling with the force of your emotions.

"Matt," you said sharply. "Don’t tell me you didn’t notice."

Matt blinked at you, confused and tired.

"Notice what?"

You turned, pointing gently toward Noah, who sat crumpled and small at the edge of the bed.

"Matt, he’s completely drained. Burned out. He needs to rest. He’s been running himself into the ground for weeks. And no one said anything."

As you spoke, Noah’s shoulders shook silently.

At first, none of you noticed.

But then Folio’s eyes widened slightly, and he reached out, pulling Noah into a side hug.

You dropped down in front of him again, placing your hands carefully on his upper arms, grounding him, anchoring him.

You could feel the way he trembled under your touch.

Silent tears streamed down Noah’s face, raw and unguarded.

He buried his head against Folio’s shoulder, his entire body curling in on itself like he was trying to disappear.

"Hey, Noah," you whispered, voice thick with emotion, "it’s gonna be okay. We’re here. You have us. You’re not alone."

Matt knelt down beside you, guilt etched deep into his face.

"Dude… I’m so sorry," Matt said hoarsely. "I didn’t notice. I should’ve seen it. I’m sorry, man."

Noah didn’t answer, just shook harder.

Matt reached out too, squeezing Noah’s other shoulder gently.

"We’ll figure something out," Matt promised quietly. "Together. I swear. You’re not gonna carry this by yourself anymore."

The four of you stayed like that for a long time.

No one in a rush to move.

No one willing to leave Noah alone in the dark again.

May 24th, 2023. Raleigh, NC

Matt had cleared Noah’s schedule for the day. No meet-and-greets, no soundcheck, no interviews. Just rest.

You were relieved. Honestly, both of you were. Noah had barely been holding it together lately, and today felt like a breath finally being let out.

Now, you sat side-by-side on the roof of the tour bus, lemon sodas sweating in your hands, the metal warm beneath you from the day’s heat. The sunset dripped pink and orange across the horizon, smearing the sky like someone had taken a paintbrush and dragged it carelessly. It was beautiful in that messy, aching kind of way.

Noah had slept nearly the whole day. He needed it, that was obvious. Even now, he still looked tired. His hair was messy, pushed back by the breeze, and he hadn't even bothered with shoes, just socks against the roof.

For a long time, you didn’t speak. The cicadas buzzed somewhere off in the trees, the distant hum of the city behind it. Noah tapped his thumb slowly against the side of his can, staring off at nothing.

Then, quietly, like he was almost afraid to say it aloud, he said,

"I’m feeling like I’m watching my dream rot."

You turned immediately, heart squeezing at the sound of his voice. The way it cracked slightly at the edges. He wasn’t looking at you; he was staring down into the opening of his soda can like it held the answers.

"I love this," he added after a second, almost like he had to defend himself. "I do. But... I’m crumbling."

You shifted closer without thinking, setting your can down with a soft clink against the metal. You reached for him, your fingers brushing against his knuckles first before you threaded your hand through his and squeezed gently. His skin was a little cool from the drink, but his grip tightened around yours immediately, like he’d been waiting for something to anchor him.

"Hey," you said softly, squeezing again until he finally looked at you. His eyes were tired, rimmed in faint red, but they were open. "You’re not crumbling. You’re tired. There’s a difference."

Noah let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, but not quite.

"Feels the same," he muttered.

"It’s not," you insisted. "You’re not failing. You’re just... human. Even superheroes get tired, you know."

Noah smiled a little at that. Small, crooked. But it was the first real smile you’d seen from him all day.

"I don’t feel very super lately," he said, voice low. He leaned his head back until it rested lightly against your shoulder. You didn’t move, just adjusted slightly so he’d be more comfortable.

"You don’t have to be," you murmured, looking out at the sky as it deepened into darker pinks and purples. "You just have to be Noah. That’s more than enough."

He didn’t say anything for a moment. You felt the slow, steady pull of his breathing. The way he let himself be with you, no expectations, no pressure. Just the two of you, lemon sodas, and the endless Carolina sky above you.

"Thank you," he said finally, so soft you almost missed it.

You turned your head slightly, resting your cheek lightly against his hair. "Always."

Noah smiled again. Wider this time, the kind that touched his eyes and squeezed your hand back.

May 25th, 2023. Columbus, OH

The yelling echoed through the venue, sharp and unignorable even from the other side where you sat at your makeshift med station, repacking the first-aid supplies from the night before.

You didn’t need to hear every word to understand the heart of it. Voices cracking against the high ceilings, desperate and worn.

"Pressure,"

"Unfair,"

"Fucking tired."

The words carried like smoke, seeping through walls, curling around you even though you tried to focus on your work. You bit your lip, glancing toward the heavy curtains that separated you from the chaos.

Then. A shift.

The curtains stirred, and there he was.

Noah.

Eyes glassy, face pale, shoulders hunched in defeat like the weight of the whole world was tethered to his spine. He looked smaller than usual, like the fight had finally drained out of him.

"I didn’t know where else to go," he said, voice cracking halfway through.

You didn’t think. You dropped the gauze onto the table and immediately opened your arms.

He stumbled forward without hesitation, collapsing into you with the kind of force that made you take a step back to steady both of you. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist like he was trying to hold himself together through sheer will.

You held him tightly, hands splayed across his back, anchoring him to you.

"I’m losing everyone," he whispered, the words trembling against your skin.

You shook your head, speaking firmly even though your heart was breaking for him.

"You haven’t lost me," you said, brushing your hand up and down his back in slow, soothing motions. "And you won’t lose the others, Noah. It’s just... it’s hard for them to see you breaking down. They don’t know how to help yet. But they love you. They're just scared too."

He clung tighter at that, fingers bunching into the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid letting go would mean unraveling completely.

"I don’t want to be broken," he choked out.

You pulled back just enough to cup his face between your hands, forcing him to look at you. His cheeks were damp, lashes clumped together. You wiped the tears away with your thumbs, gentle but sure.

"You're not broken," you said, voice steady. "You're hurting. There's a difference. Broken means you can't be fixed. And you're still here, Noah. Still fighting. That’s not broken. That’s brave."

For a second, he just stared at you, breathing unevenly. You could see the battle in his eyes. The part of him that wanted to believe you, and the part of him that was still drowning.

Then. Noises from the hallway.

Heavy footsteps. Voices calling out.

"Noah?"

"Bro, where are you?"

"Come on, man, just talk to us!"

You turned, still keeping a steadying hand on Noah's back as the curtains shifted again.

First Nicholas, looking frantic and guilty. Then Matt, Jolly, and Folio right behind him.

They all stopped short when they saw you holding him, the tension immediately dropping from their shoulders.

"There you are," Matt breathed, stepping forward. His voice was soft, careful, like he was approaching a wounded animal.

Nicholas scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting from Noah to you, clearly unsure how to start.

"We didn’t mean to..." Jolly started, but faltered. "We’re just worried, man."

Folio stepped in next, crouching slightly to be on Noah’s eye level even though he wasn’t sure Noah would look up.

"You’re not losing us," he said, voice thick with emotion. "Okay? You’re stuck with us, like it or not."

Nicholas took a tentative step closer, heart in his throat.

"We get it now," he said, voice rough. "We should’ve... we should’ve seen it sooner. You’re not alone in this, Noah. You never were."

Matt gave a small, almost sad smile, hands in his hoodie pocket.

"You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, dude. Let us help. Let us be here for you."

Slowly, Noah pulled his face from your shoulder, blinking like he was still trying to process that they were really there, that they meant it.

"Even if you’re tired... even if you feel broken..." Jolly added, "We’re still here. Always."

For a beat, nobody moved.

Then Nicholas crossed the space first, wrapping his arms around Noah from the side. Matt and Jolly followed, piling into the hug, Folio throwing his arms over all of them. You felt yourself getting caught up in it too, squeezed between them, the warmth and pressure a tangible reminder: he wasn’t alone. Not even close.

Noah let out a wet, shaky laugh against your shoulder, a sound somewhere between relief and disbelief.

"I’m sorry," he muttered.

"Don’t be sorry, bro," Matt said immediately. "We’re sorry for not seeing it sooner."

"We love you, man," Nicholas added, squeezing his shoulder tightly. "Nothing’s gonna change that."

Noah sniffled, a real, soft smile finally pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Love you guys too," he said, voice hoarse but real.

They all held on a little tighter at that.

May 26th, 2023. Grand Rapids, MI

The final note still echoed through the venue, vibrating through the floorboards and into the bones of everyone there. The crowd’s deafening roar followed it, washing over the stage like a tidal wave. But to Noah, it sounded far away, muted, like he was underwater.

He strode offstage, mic still clenched tightly in his hand, each step toward the wings making his chest pull tighter, breath harder to catch.

You were waiting just beyond the curtain, heart hammering painfully in your chest as you caught sight of him.

Noah barely made it two more steps before he sank to his knees against the wall, the mic slipping from his fingers and clattering softly onto the ground. His shoulders trembled, silent sobs already racking his body.

Without thinking, you dropped to your knees beside him, gathering him up into your arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn’t resist. He folded into you immediately, forehead pressing against your collarbone, fists clutching weakly at your shirt.

A handful of crew members stopped nearby, uncertainty written across their faces. Nobody quite knew whether to step in or give space.

Then Matt rounded the corner, jogging lightly toward the commotion, and stopped dead when he saw Noah crumpled in your arms. His face paled, concern flooding every line of his body.

"Noah?" Matt whispered, voice breaking the stillness like glass.

Through the haze of tears, Noah just shook his head fiercely, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. His voice, when it came, was barely audible:

"Too loud," he choked out. "Too many eyes."

You tightened your arms around him, pressing a soft, grounding kiss against his temple. His skin was clammy under your lips, and your heart ached.

"You were incredible tonight," you whispered, close enough that only he could hear. "You always are, Noah. Every single night."

Noah shuddered, and then his whole body seemed to go limp against you, the fight bleeding out of him all at once.

You rocked him gently, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other rubbing soothing circles into his back.

"It’s okay to break," you murmured, lips brushing against his hair. "I’ve got you. Always."

Matt dropped to his knees opposite you without hesitation, already pulling his radio up to his mouth to quietly call for a water bottle and a towel. His movements were quick but careful, trying not to overwhelm Noah more.

Nicholas appeared next, his face tight with worry. He fumbled for the tissue packet in his back pocket and held it out with shaking fingers.

Jolly knelt down too, resting a broad, steady hand on Noah’s trembling shoulder, grounding him without crowding him.

Folio crouched on Noah’s other side, not saying a word. Just placing a firm, reassuring hand on Noah’s knee, a silent I'm here.

For a few moments, the world outside the curtain didn't exist. Just the soft clatter of the crew moving quietly, the distant thrum of the leaving crowd unaware of the scene unfolding backstage, and the fragile, heavy breathing of the boy in your arms.

Noah finally lifted his head slightly, blinking hard against the tears still clinging to his lashes. His red-rimmed, glassy eyes found yours first, locking onto you like you were the only steady thing in a world still spinning too fast.

"Thank you," he rasped, the words raw but full of meaning.

You brushed his hair back from his forehead gently, giving him a soft, reassuring smile.

"Always," you whispered back. "Always, Noah."

The others stayed close, creating a protective circle around him without ever making him feel trapped.

The room was suffused with a kind of tender, unspoken hush. A reverence for the moment, for the break in Noah’s armor, for the way love sometimes looked less like loud declarations and more like quiet presence.

You tightened your arms around him slightly, feeling the subtle way he leaned into your touch, trusting you, trusting all of them.

Here, in the dim backstage of a roaring venue, you held him steady. Not in secret, not hidden. But right in front of everyone who cared more than they had ever admitted out loud.

And they would be here, you all silently promised, for as long as he needed.

May 27th, 2023. St. Louis, MO

It was just past 2AM when a soft, hesitant knock at your bunk pulled you from the edges of sleep.

You blinked groggily, heart already tightening a little because you knew exactly who it would be.

"Hey," came Noah’s voice, a rough, trembling whisper through the thin fabric. "I can’t sleep."

You reached out, pulling the curtain open just enough to see him standing there barefoot, in sweatpants and a hoodie that looked a size too big on him. Eyes glassy, skin pale in the dim blue emergency lights lining the bus hallway.

You didn’t hesitate. You patted the little empty space beside you, lifting the blanket invitingly.

"Hop in," you said softly, your voice still raspy from sleep.

Noah didn’t need to be told twice. He ducked his head and slithered under the covers with you in the way to tight bunk, moving slowly, like he was trying not to break something fragile.

As soon as he was close enough, you shifted to make room, wrapping an arm securely around his middle and pulling him into your chest. His body was stiff at first. Wired with exhaustion and whatever storm still brewed in his chest. But the second your hand splayed across his back, he melted against you.

"Your hoodie smells like home," he whispered, voice muffled against your shoulder. His cheek pressed into you, seeking every ounce of comfort you could give.

You smiled softly, threading your fingers gently through his hair, letting your nails scratch lightly at his scalp the way you knew soothed him.

"I’m right here," you murmured, pressing your lips to the top of his head.

Noah breathed in. Sharp at first, a stuttering inhale like he was trying not to cry again. Relief. Exhaustion. Safety. All wrapped up into one broken, beautiful breath.

You tucked his arm securely across your waist, holding it there with your hand so he’d feel anchored, tethered to something solid.

"Sleep now," you whispered against his hair. "You need it, Noah."

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t need to.

Within minutes, you felt the change. The way his breathing evened out, slow and steady, his body growing heavier against yours as sleep finally, finally claimed him.

You stayed awake a little longer, unwilling to move, unwilling to break the fragile peace that had settled around the two of you like a blanket.

Your hand drifted in slow, lazy circles across his back, tracing invisible patterns, grounding him even as he slept.

And as you lay there in the dark, listening to the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, you found yourself silently, fiercely grateful, that tonight, you could give him this.

Peace.

Safety.

Home.

All the things he deserved, wrapped up in your arms.

May 28th, 2023. Fort Wayne, IN

The morning was quiet on the bus, the kind of sleepy peace that came after too many late nights stacked together.

You stood at the little counter in the cramped kitchen, carefully measuring out ingredients for pancakes, trying not to jostle the bag of flour too hard and send it puffing everywhere. A bowl of chocolate chips sat within reach, waiting to be folded in.

You barely noticed when Matt stepped in until you felt him hovering.

He leaned casually against the doorway, arms folded across his chest, watching you a little too intently.

"Hey," he said finally, voice easy but edged with something more serious.

You glanced up, giving him a questioning look without pausing in your measuring.

Matt scratched the back of his neck, shifting his weight. "I’ve noticed you two," he said, tone gentle, almost teasing. "Getting pretty close."

You froze mid-pour, batter dripping slowly from the measuring cup.

"I’m just helping him," you said quietly, setting the cup down and wiping your hands on a dish towel. There was no defensiveness in your voice. Just honesty.

Matt exhaled through his nose, a small, knowing grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t accusing. He understood.

"Good," he said after a beat. "Because he needs you right now. But..." He pushed off the doorway, stepping closer. His expression softened, voice dipping lower, more protective. "Don’t let him lean on you so hard that you break too."

You turned fully to face him then, meeting his steady gaze without flinching. The sincerity there — the quiet worry for both you and Noah — settled heavy in your chest.

"I’ll let you know when I need a breather," you promised, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

Matt studied you for another moment, then nodded, satisfied.

"He trusts you more than anyone," he said. "Just... make sure he doesn’t forget how to trust himself too."

You bit your lip, emotions swelling under your ribs.

Wordlessly, you reached into the bowl of chocolate chips, scooping a spoonful, and held it out to him like a peace offering.

Matt chuckled, the tension breaking. He leaned forward and plucked a few off the spoon before popping them into his mouth.

"Deal," you said, voice lighter now.

Matt clapped your shoulder. A solid, grateful kind of touch. One that said more than words ever could.

"Thanks for being his anchor," he said, squeezing once before letting go.

You watched him walk away, disappearing back down the narrow hallway toward the bunks.

As you turned back to the batter, stirring it gently, a quiet realization settled into your bones:

The band didn’t just rely on Noah.

They were starting to rely on you, too.

And somehow, without even meaning to, you had become part of the thread stitching them all together.

You glanced toward the hallway where Noah was still sleeping, and smiled softly to yourself.

You wouldn't let any of them fall apart alone.

Not if you could help it.

May 30th, 2023. Des Moines, IA

The next evening, the green room was almost empty, filled only with the low hum of a distant air vent and the quiet rustle of supplies as you sat cross-legged on the carpet, reorganizing the first-aid kit.

Bandages, antiseptic wipes, gauze. You methodically checked every box, every roll, hands moving out of habit more than thought.

You didn’t hear Noah approach at first.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat. A small, uncertain sound.

He stood just inside the doorway, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair still damp from the post-soundcheck shower. There was a hesitancy in the way he hovered, like he wasn’t sure if he should interrupt.

Without a word, you shifted to the side, making room on the floor.

Noah crossed the room and sat down across from you, mirroring your position, his legs folding awkwardly under him. His gaze found yours almost immediately.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You went back to stacking supplies, giving him space to find the words he was clearly working up to.

Finally, Noah broke the silence, his voice small but steady:

"I don’t think I ever properly thanked you," he said.

You set down the box of gauze you were holding, giving him your full attention.

"You don’t have to," you said quietly, meaning every word.

But Noah shook his head, almost fiercely, leaning forward across the scattered first-aid supplies. His hand reached out, tentative at first, then firmer as he took yours, cradling it between both of his.

The touch startled something warm and aching in your chest.

"No," he said again, voice thick with emotion. "I do."

He squeezed your hand lightly, grounding himself. His thumb brushed absentmindedly over your knuckles, like he needed the connection just as much as the words.

"You saved my life," he said, the confession tumbling out in a breath. His eyes, wide and dark, searched yours with a rawness that made it hard to breathe. "On stage. Off stage. In flights. In hotels. Everywhere. You never left."

Your heart clenched painfully. You swallowed hard, forcing back the lump rising in your throat.

You tightened your hand around his, steady and sure.

"We’re a team," you whispered, voice catching slightly. "You would’ve done the same for me."

Noah didn’t look away. His fingers laced tighter with yours, like he could somehow say the rest of the things he didn’t know how to voice through touch alone.

"Thank you," he said again, softer this time, like a prayer. "For everything."

The air between you buzzed. Not heavy, not uncomfortable but thick with all the things words would never fully capture.

You gave his hand one more reassuring squeeze and offered a tiny, trembling smile.

"You don’t have to thank me," you repeated, just as quietly. "Just stay. That’s all."

And Noah nodded, a promise written all over his face.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Neither were you.

June 1st, 2023. Omaha, NE

The bus rocked gently beneath your feet as you padded down the narrow hallway, the soft hum of the engine and faint chatter from outside lulling the world into a late-night haze.

As you passed the little kitchen nook, you spotted Noah standing there, half-shadowed in the dim lighting.

The overhead bulb cast a soft, almost golden glow across his features highlighting the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of everything he'd been carrying.

He lifted his head when he saw you, something tender and vulnerable flickering in his gaze.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, voice low, almost hesitant.

You immediately shifted your path toward him, offering a small smile.

"Of course," you said. "What's up?"

Noah didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out, fingers curling around your hand. His grip was warm, steady, but you could feel the tremor underneath like he was holding onto something delicate and precious.

Without letting go, he tugged you gently toward the front of the bus, pulling you into the living room where the couches and worn coffee table sat in cozy disarray.

He didn't let go of your hand even as he sat down heavily on the couch, looking up at you with an expression so open, so raw, it made your heart ache.

You sat down beside him, turning to face him fully, your knees brushing his.

Noah took a deep breath, visibly gathering himself. His thumb rubbed a nervous pattern across the back of your hand.

"I’ve been wanting to say this the whole day," he began, words tumbling out in a rush. "But... I couldn’t find the right words. I kept overthinking it and—" He broke off, shaking his head.

You squeezed his hand gently, silently telling him to just breathe. Just talk.

He inhaled shakily.

"You..." he said, voice cracking slightly, "you saved my life. Not just the night in Raleigh, or Grand Rapids, or anywhere in between. You saved me every day. Every time you smiled at me. Every time you sat with me when the world felt too heavy to move. Every time you told me it was okay to not be okay."

Your chest tightened, emotion building under your ribs so hard it hurt.

"You made me want to stay," Noah whispered. His fingers tightened around yours, like he was afraid if he let go, he'd lose his nerve. "You made me smile again. You reminded me that... even when I felt broken, I wasn’t unlovable. That I was still worth something."

He looked up at you then, and the sheer vulnerability in his eyes stole the breath straight from your lungs.

"You made me feel like I could be more than my sadness," he said, voice trembling. "You made me feel like home wasn’t some place I’d lost. It was right here, in you."

Your breath caught audibly in your throat.

"Noah," you whispered, barely able to get his name past the tightness in your chest.

He shifted closer, so close now you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His hands. Both of them came up to cradle yours, thumbs brushing soothing, reverent circles across your skin.

His eyes never left yours as he said, in a voice so full of certainty it made you want to cry:

"I love you. In every stitch. In every scar. In every broken, battered piece of me... you’re my home."

Tears pricked sharply at your eyes, blurring your vision. You let out a shaky, broken laugh, overwhelmed, heart splitting wide open in the best way possible.

"I love you too," you choked out, no hesitation, no fear. Just truth.

For a heartbeat, you both just stared at each other, emotions laid bare between you like a map of every scar and every healing wound.

Then Noah moved. Slow, careful, giving you every chance to pull away. And when you didn’t, when you leaned in just as eagerly, he closed the distance.

His lips met yours softly at first, like a secret being shared for the first time.

You sighed against him, melting into the kiss, arms sliding up around his neck as he pulled you closer, closer, like he couldn’t stand a single inch of space between you.

The kiss deepened gradually, growing surer, more desperate, like all the things you hadn’t said, all the moments you hadn’t touched, were finally pouring out.

The world outside faded into nothing. The engine’s hum, the distant noise from the venue, even the flicker of the bus lights.

There was only Noah.

Only you.

And the quiet, beautiful truth that had been waiting between you all along.

June 2nd, 2023. Kansas City, MO

The next morning, the bus was already stirring with soft laughter and the smell of brewing coffee when you and Noah finally emerged from the hallway.

His hand was wrapped tightly around yours, fingers intertwined like he wasn’t ready to let you go.

You made your way toward the little dining booth at the front of the bus where the rest of the guys were already gathered, sleepy-eyed but lively.

As soon as they spotted you, Jolly let out a low, teasing whistle.

"Well, look at you two lovebirds," he drawled, smirking over the rim of his coffee mug.

Nicholas, still nursing his first cup of caffeine, lifted it in a lazy toast, his eyes twinkling.

"Congrats," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Matt, who had been sprawled out across the bench, immediately straightened up, grinning so wide it nearly split his face. He slid into the booth opposite you two, leaning his elbows on the table with exaggerated excitement.

"About time," he said, shaking his head like he’d been waiting years for this moment.

You ducked your head, cheeks warming, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Noah squeezed your hand beneath the table, grounding you with that quiet, steady touch you were already so hopelessly attached to.

He cleared his throat, glancing at the guys, voice thick but certain.

"She saved me," he said, giving your hand another gentle squeeze, "and so did you guys. Thank you... all of you. So much."

There was a beat. A soft moment where everything stilled, like the gravity of his words deserved space to settle.

Then, as if they’d rehearsed it, all four of them said at once, voices overlapping with easy, unfiltered affection:

"Of course."

Folio, who was leaning back in his seat with his arms stretched over the back of the booth, tipped his head toward you both with a smirk.

"Just so you know," he said, his voice teasing but fond, "I called that from the second she stitched him up back in Colorado."

You laughed, unable to hold it back, the memory flashing through your mind. Noah wincing, you hovering over him with shaking hands, neither of you realizing that something bigger had already started that night.

You leaned into Noah’s shoulder, hiding your grin against the soft fabric of his hoodie. He tilted his head slightly, pressing a small, secret kiss to the top of your hair.

The guys erupted into cheers, clinking glasses, mugs, and even a random water bottle together in a loud, messy, absolutely perfect celebration.

The teasing was relentless. Jolly pretending to wipe a tear, Nicholas fake-offended that no one placed bets, Matt loudly announcing he better be the best man if there’s a wedding someday. But it was warm, easy, and wrapped in all the chaotic love that had built itself between you all without even trying.

As you sat there, tucked into Noah’s side, his hand still clutching yours like it was the only thing keeping him steady, you realized something beautiful. This wasn’t just a relationship.

It was a family.

And you had never been more at home.

June 3rd, 2023. Memphis, TN

The air backstage buzzed with the low hum of crew chatter, the faint rumble of the crowd bleeding through the walls like a living heartbeat.

You weaved through the maze of cables and cases, scanning for him and there, by the monitor world, you spotted Noah.

He was adjusting his in-ears, fingers fumbling slightly, his shoulders wound tight with nerves.

You moved toward him quietly, not wanting to startle him. When you reached him, he looked up, the tension plain in his face.

"I’m nervous," he admitted, voice low, almost sheepish, as if confessing a secret he wasn’t proud of.

You stepped closer, into his space, feeling the familiar magnetic pull between you. Gently, you reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair back from his forehead, fingertips lingering a second longer than necessary.

"You’ve come so far," you reminded him softly, your voice steady, sure, "Remember that night? The one when I found you crying in the corner after the show? You were convinced you couldn't do this anymore."

He let out a breath that trembled at the edges, his gaze dropping for a moment, like the memory still hurt to touch.

You hooked your finger under his chin, guiding him to look at you.

"Look at you now," you said, smiling gently.

His eyes, dark and uncertain, searched yours.

"I never thought I’d make it," he whispered, almost like he didn’t believe it even now.

Your heart squeezed. Without thinking, you cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the faint stubble there, grounding him.

"You did," you said fiercely, "Not just because you had to. Because you chose to. You’ve been stronger than you ever knew, Noah."

He leaned into your hand like it was the only thing holding him up, eyes shimmering with the kind of gratitude that words could never fully carry.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely, "for believing when I couldn’t. For staying."

You smiled through the emotion thickening your throat. Leaning up on your toes, you pressed a kiss to his lips. A soft, lingering kiss that was part promise, part prayer, part I’m with you, always.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead lightly against his.

"I am so, so proud of you," you whispered. "Now go out there. Show them the real you. Show them the heart they fell in love with. The same one I did."

Noah exhaled, a deep, steadying breath. You watched as the tension slowly uncoiled from his frame. He nodded, a small but sure smile curving his lips.

"Okay," he said, squeezing your waist gently, grounding himself in your touch one last time before he had to let go.

He squared his shoulders, standing taller, a light coming back into his eyes.

And without another word, he turned and strode toward the stage, the roar of the crowd growing louder, swallowing him whole.

You stayed back, hand pressed to your chest, heart full, watching the man you loved step into his light. A light he had built from the ashes, with your hand in his.

June 4th, 2023. Wichita, KS

It was the last night before you would fly back home to LA.

The final show had ended in a haze of cheers and lights and raw magic. Better than either of you could have dreamed. It felt untouchable, almost surreal.

Hours later, in the dim, quiet hotel room, the adrenaline was still humming beneath your skin, refusing to settle.

Noah closed the door softly behind him, locking the world out. His eyes found yours in the low light, and that unspoken tension. The one that had been simmering between you all day finally snapped.

He crossed the room in two strides, hands cradling your face as he kissed you hard, like he was starving, like he couldn't get close enough.

You barely made it to the bed before he was guiding you down, hovering over you, his weight a comforting pressure you needed more than air.

You kissed for what felt like hours, slow and deep, the kind of kisses that made you forget what day it was, what your own name was.

You tugged gently on the hem of his shirt, breaking the kiss just enough to whisper, "Take it off."

He hesitated, breathing heavy, forehead pressed to yours.

"Are you sure?" he rasped, voice thick with tension, hope, and a trembling restraint that made your chest ache.

You nodded, thumb brushing the sharp edge of his jaw.

"More than sure," you breathed. "Please, Noah."

He kissed you again, softer this time, almost reverent, before peeling off his shirt and tossing it somewhere into the dark.

Every touch after that felt sacred. His fingers trailed along your collarbone like he was memorizing you, while your hands mapped the planes of his back, the dip of his spine.

You let out a low moan when his fingers found your chest through your shirt, pinching your nipple gently.

You arched into him, reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head in one fluid motion.

Noah sucked in a breath, eyes devouring you.

He carefully unclasped your bra, letting it fall away, leaving you bare under his gaze.

"You're so damn beautiful," he whispered like a prayer, tracing his thumb over your exposed skin. "How do I even deserve you?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Not with the way his words cracked something open inside you. Instead, you tugged him down into another searing kiss, hands threading through his hair.

You kissed your way down his throat, his chest, his stomach, taking your time, feeling every shiver he gave you.

When you reached the waistband of his jeans, you glanced up at him, asking for permission without speaking.

He gave the softest nod.

You undid his belt slowly, teasing him, hearing the hitch in his breathing. Then you tugged his jeans and boxers down in one swift, confident motion.

You pressed slow kisses to his thighs, feeling him tremble under your touch.

When you finally took him into your mouth, his reaction was instant. A deep, guttural groan that made heat flare between your legs.

You licked the tip first, swirling your tongue, before taking him deeper, bopping your head in a steady rhythm.

After a few blissful moments, his hand found your hair, guiding you gently but urgently, hips stuttering.

"Shit, I’m so close," he gasped, voice wrecked.

You let him slip from your mouth with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting you still. His desperate whine nearly undid you.

"Why'd you stop?" Noah asked, breathless, wide-eyed.

You climbed back up his body, straddling his hips, smirking against his flushed skin.

"Because," you whispered against his ear, "I want you to cum inside me, baby."

Noah let out a groan so raw it made your whole body shiver.

"Are you trying to fucking kill me?" he growled, but his hands were already gripping your hips like he’d die if he let go.

You kissed him hard, stealing the rest of his sanity, before pulling back just enough to shimmy out of your skirt and panties.

Noah’s eyes darkened as he took you in, hands roaming like he couldn't decide where to touch first. He slid one hand down to where you were aching for him, rubbing slow, teasing circles that made you keen.

"Noah," you whimpered, rocking into his hand, "I need you. Inside me. Please."

He didn't make you beg twice.

Guiding you carefully, you sank down onto him, both of you letting out broken, desperate sounds as he filled you.

You moved slowly at first, adjusting to the sweet stretch of him, your forehead resting against his.

His hands gripped your waist, and then he was meeting your hips with his own, thrusting up into you hard enough to punch moans from both of you.

"Fuck, you feel like heaven," he groaned, lips ghosting over your throat.

You rode him like it was the only thing that mattered, skin against skin, messy and beautiful and real.

The room filled with the sounds of your bodies. The wet slap of skin, the choked off moans, the whispered praises, and quiet, breathless laughter when you bumped noses or fumbled, too drunk on each other to care.

You fell over the edge together, clinging to each other like a lifeline, gasping each other's names into the space between your mouths.

Afterward, you collapsed against him, hearts pounding wildly in sync.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, holding you like he’d never let go.

You pressed a kiss to the inked skin of his chest, right over his heart.

"I'm always gonna be here for you, Noah. No matter what," you whispered, voice cracking with the weight of how much you meant it.

He tightened his arms around you, resting his forehead against yours.

"And I’m always gonna love you," he murmured back, sealing the promise with a soft kiss.

You lay there like that for a long time, tangled up in each other, breathing the same air, sharing the same future.

After a while, Noah brushed your hair back and looked at you with something new in his eyes. Something scared and hopeful all at once.

"I know it’s still fresh," he said quietly, "and it’s extremely early... but... will you move in with us? With me?"

You blinked, tears stinging your eyes for a whole different reason this time.

Grinning wide enough that it hurt, you cupped his face between your hands.

"Of course I will, Noah," you said, voice shaking with happiness. "There’s no place else I’d rather be."

He kissed you again, smiling against your lips.

Later, you lay together, already talking about which room would be yours, how you’d make it a real home. Not just for Noah, but for you both.

The future didn't feel so scary anymore.

Taglist: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @courta13 @lacy1986 @bloody-spades @take--me--first

Navigation | Requests | Masterlist

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#fanfiction #noah sebastian x you #noah sebastian angst #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian x reader #noah bad omens #noah sebastian davis #noah sebastian #new writer boost #new writers on tumblr #support new writer #like comment share #enemiestolovershoe

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lynxgriffin · 11 months ago

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Wrist Health Update

Hey all, I thought I'd give an update regarding my wrist injury and recovery: I'm currently seeing a physiotherapist and (less frequently) a RMT to try and get my wrist all recovered. I've got exercise and strength training regimens to do in addition to appointments for getting the muscles worked on.

I'm still working hard trying to get it all better, but the most frustrating part about injuries like this is that it takes a long time to get back to 100%. If this is about the same as last time I was injured, I expect that I won't be back to normal (i.e. able to draw full days both for work and my fandom stuff without issue) until the end of the year/start of next year.

That said, that doesn't mean there will be no art from me! I'm trying to ease back into drawing with small amounts of time each day, seeing how much work I'm able to tolerate. Right now it's not more than 1-2 hours a day, all spaced out. So I'm trying to make a little progress on some fandom stuff. With a lot of luck (and exercise), I may be able to finish the short DR project I was doing by next month, and then another Eldritchrune comic after that.

However, that will probably slow down again once I try to go back to my job, which I'm hoping to do at the end of the month. Considering I've already missed way more work (and paychecks) than I'd like, even part-time work is going to take priority. And in general any drawing I'm doing for pay (like Patreon) will come first.

So, that's all to say: I'm getting professional help on getting better, I'm making sure to do my stretches and exercises, and I can tell I'm SLOWLY but steadily improving. There will be art, but it will likely be slow and spaced out for the rest of the year. I'm not sure when it will be safe to do art streams again, but in the meanwhile I can manage some game streams! And I can still answer questions or do discussions from the inbox!

Thanks so much again for being patient! I wish recovery was a faster deal!

#wrist health #it really is frustrating how long this takes sob

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lilderitter · 4 months ago

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Endings are Hard. But so are Beginnings.

Hi all!

I'm Lil. I'm showing up on tumblr under my own name for once because I was one of the writers for Blades of Light & Shadow 2 and 3 as well as being the designated lorekeeper. (I also worked on Cursed Heart 2 (and was the facial reference for the Fae version of Longclaw, hence the icon), as well as Kiss of Death and Murder at Homecoming, and I was the lead writer on Villainous Valentines and the Blades Tabletop Guide.

I was one of the many people who were laid off by Pixelberry when the Cursed Heart team was dissolved over a year ago now. But my final contribution to PB canon, Blades of Light and Shadow 3, officially finishes its wide release today. The layoff was traumatic for a lot of reasons, but it did offer me the strange silver lining of getting to be on both the brainstorm team for Blades 3 and being the person who wrote the initial drafts of the book. I was not the book lead, to be clear, but I'm honored to have gotten to work for Emi and to have been gifted the absolute privilege to act as an archaeologist in the world of Morella and beyond in Blades 2 & 3. I especially loved writing the lore tablets and found objects like Nifara's letter, Kade and Tyril's poetry and songs (and Kade and Bakshi in general, my beautiful bards), the Old Gods, Mal and Tyril's romance routes, and both Mal and Raine's mental health journeys.

Since I wasn't the lead, not everything I wrote made it in, and there's some stuff that even ended up on my own personal cutting room floor for Blades 3 (mostly due to length). I got nostalgic over the weekend, and found a longer version of one of Tyril's poems that I thought y'all might like to see, so I've included it below as thanks for everything y'all have given the Blades team. You are what made the sequels happen, especially Blades 3.

Because I figure you might be looking for more stuff like Blades now that we've come to what I dearly hope is a bittersweet but satisfying end, I did want to shout out the art I was consuming when we were working on Blades 3:

Not Another D&D Podcast - If you're a fan of Dimension 20 (and who isn't?), you know the brilliant work of Emily Axford and Brian Murphy, but Jake Hurwitz's hilarious and heartfelt himbo fighter Hardwon from Campaign One was my direct inspiration for the voice of Nithrax. (Wanda Maximoff was Midys's, if ya couldn't tell. An autistic queen.) But truly pick any of NADDPOD's campaigns (or Dungeon Court), and you'll have a great, hilarious, and surprisingly poignant time.

Transplanar RPG "The Second Stranger" Show and Podcast - Mercer? Lee Mulligan? Iyengar? You know them, you love them, but I guarantee you've never heard someone like Transplanar's Dungeon Master Connie Chang. His work is poetic, visceral, and wickedly funny in a way that is, might I say, otherworldly, and her cast is magnificent. "The Second Stranger" is an all trans, POC led actual play show about a group of misfits who have to save their world's gods before they can save the world. It is also shippy (and gay) as fuck. Truly, if you wanted the Blades gang to be a polycule, this is the show for you.

Baldur's Gate 3 and The Dungeons & Dragons Movie - the new and worthy additions to the canon. If you haven't tried 'em please do.

Anyway. The poetry is below the cut (please be nice. Tyril is a baby writer.) and I'm feeling some kind of way so if you have lore questions (or questions in general), feel free to drop 'em in my inbox and I can try to answer them. They'll be non canon answers and I can't talk about PB's internal processes in detail, obvi, but I did hang around with the fire with Kade a fair time so I know a thing or two. (And if you like any of my recommendations, I'm always up for chatting about them!) P.S. Don't worry about me. I actually work at Chapters now, and my first book was high fantasy as well (primarily Norse and Celtic mythology). I'm also working on a new indie game with some other Pixelberry layoff casualties including some incredible artists, the head writer of the Cursed Heart, The Crown and the Flame, and It Lives series. (They are the same person can you imagine???), and the writer who gave us that scene at Joaquin's apartment in LoA2. (You know the one.) We hope to be able to tell y'all more about it soon.

Thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. It has truly an honor and a privilege to work for these characters. And for you.

[A behind the scenes note, I always told myself that translated Morellan Elven/Elvish tends to lack the full poetry of the original because they have more words for things than the human tongue does. Part of this is just that we were working with only a few references from Book 1 and added as we went, but i also liked the idea that a culture this old (and a culture partially founded by a storyteller) would be difficult to translate to a younger language like Morellan. So if the poetry's bad, I blame the imaginary translation.]

This was originally going to take place in Tyril's second 30 diamond premium (when they're resting in the Elements.) MC has just asked Tyril for another poem.

Tyril: I have one other that is somewhat presentable. But Kade said the scansion was simple.

Raine: Kade... has opinions. And bar tabs. If he wants me to tolerate one, he needs to manage the other.

Raine: He also may have meant it as a compliment. He's a translator, remember? He appreciates ease.

Tyril: But he's correct. It is simple.

Raine: There's nothing wrong with simplicity, Tyril. Simplicity can be elegant.

Raine: The stars, the sun, all of nature is simple. Would you blame them for what they are?

Tyril: You're better at this than me.

Raine: Maybe you're just inspiring me.

Narration: You bring Tyril's hand to yours, kissing each pale blue fingertip.

Raine: Tyril. Read it to me. Please.

Narration: But he doesn't read. He doesn't have to. Every word is a whispered caress along your shining skin.

Like blood and water (s/he) is Eternal and ephemeral. A mystery few can solve, a puzzle box to be opened. How like a statue s/he stands, too proud and too strong to let the cracks show. Let me be your mason, O great Light, great Patron I will honor your wounds, fill them with pearls from the Sea and diamonds from beneath the earth. That hallowed earth Yawning wide to call me to your quiet, cold embrace. Give me but a word and I will follow. I wait And wait And wait And hear Nothing. This time interminable, this torture endless I search for you everywhere but the undiscovered country Hope is a fragile, dangerous thing, a candle in a tempest. I find the flame in each new face, each new question, begging Have you seen (her/him)? They ask me to describe you, your hair, your skin, your frame But the words turn to dust on my tongue. There is nothing. Nothing to define the wonder of you. You are not copper nor marble, clay nor precious gold. You are a river, an island, a forest ever growing beyond my reach. Lungs burning, limbs aching, I pursue. Begging the stars to return their (daughter/son) to me. Forgive me, my Uluin, my world, my love. Forgive me.

Narration: Tyril pauses, his bright eyes sliding to the floor.

Tyril: See? Simple. Unfinished.

Raine: Yes. Exactly. Simple. Perfect. Even when unfinished. Because that means there's more story to tell.

Narration: You gently bring his gaze to yours, soft and clear like first snow.

Raine: There is nothing to forgive, Tyril. Nothing I haven't done myself.

Narration: As promised, he kisses every scar, every fear you've ever had. They do not disappear of course. That was not his aim.

Narration: Instead they are immortalized, perfect and true in the night sky of your love.

#playchoices #pixelberry #blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow 3 #tyril starfury

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peachdues · 7 months ago

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not gonna lie, motivation is so hard to muster lately when I feel like interactions are so low.

This is more a personal thought than anything — but I have so, so many asks in my inbox right now asking for various teasers and snippets, and when I do share them (or, certain ones), they rack up interactions. Sure, they’re more easily digestible/there’s less commitment involved with scanning a few hundred words, but those always prompt an additional wave of asks questioning about timelines for updates. Awesome! It lifts my spirit up! People want to read!

Except, when I finally do post an update, there’s few to no interactions with it. Almost no reblogs/comments. What makes me feel worse is that the full chapter itself ends up having far fewer likes even than the 200 word porn teaser from the same fic.

And then the cycle repeats. I post one small snippet and then a flurry of asks about the timeline for the next release, (better) interactions on extremely short (and usually, smutty) teasers, and then next to nothing by comparison when I actually post an update. Idk, so much about writing on here has changed since I joined last summer. Maybe I just need to give up the creative fic stuff and focus on doing exclusively requests and smut and keeping everything below 1-2k words.

TL;dr. It’s hard when the majority of your interactions are asking for updates because, when you do put them out, you only get more of the same questions.

#anyways that’s why Netherwood is taking so long #and compass too #it’s just hard to put this much effort into something only to be treated like a machine #delete later

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months ago

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I've been trying to focus on thinking about things I enjoy about the idea of the TWST anime. And regarding overblots, I think an anime version would really help illustrate (even more) how terrifying the process is. I really like how the manga shows Riddle's OB, and I love anime as a medium, so I'm pretty hyped to see how it will be conveyed in it.

I really hope they accentuate the horror of it- I'm aware that they might not go all in w the horror like I would personally like, but the thought still excites me. What kind of music will they play? Will the animation change like it does in some animes when the characters are distressed (wobbly lines, glitchy effects)...? What sort of directions will the voice actors get? I mean, they already voiced the game, but anime gives them more room to do voice stuff. I'm really hyped for this aspect tbh...

And I'm also excited for the possibility of dubs, since I'm quite a fan of the whole dubbing world. (I know some ppl have their fears about this last possibility, but in my case even if it turns out to not be so good, I think we could still have a good time w something like that. Plus I've seen some popular eng dub actors hyped about the anime and wanting to be casted for certain characters)

I also wanted to apologize for my previous ask ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ I already did so in the comments, but I felt bad about doomposting on your inbox. My mind's first reaction is usually to see the negative first and become anxious, and it's something I'm working on, but it sometimes goes out of hand. But now that a bit has passed, and specially thanks to your advice, I can sit down and try to focus on the things that excite me rather than the ones that scare me. Sure, building too much expectation could backfire at the end— but as you said, we have little to no information at this point. So I think focusing on the things I'd like to see is a better usage of my time. If they turn out to disappoint me... That's something I'll worry about next year, I'll suppose. I'm still a bit anxious and scared, but there's also lots of things I'm hyped for. I'll try to take your advice and focus on those. 🫂 Sorry if my previous negativity made you uncomfortable.

[Referencing this news! Asker’s prior post here.]

I’ve seen a lot of fans speculating that the OB transformation sequences will resemble magical girl ones! While that’s a fun idea, I do feel like it makes more sense for the anime to portray OB as something scary and all-consuming, similar to how it is depicted at the end of animated dorm commercials and in the manga. For the characters experiencing them, it’s not meant to be glamorous… All that agony, the dripping ink leaking out of their orifices and dripping like blood. Overblot looks incredibly horrific, and I think that should come through in the animation—whether they change the usual style for these segments or keep it the same.

I think the anime would reuse (or maybe do remastered versions of?) the Twst soundtrack for a lot of the show. The compositions are already there, so might as well. Maybe experiencing the anime will help to make the music more memorable, since it seems the game soundtrack alone isn’t doing it for some fans.

No clue about the JP voice cast; I did see some people worrying that they could replace the game’s voice cast for the anime, but as I’ve mentioned already, that’s an unfounded claim. If the usual VAs are there, surely they won’t just reuse the already recorded lines from the game?? 😂 I’d think they’d at least have to rerecord those based on how the script and its scenes are laid out, plus additional dialogue to fill in the gaps (such as new scenes).

No confirmation of an English (or other language) dubs yet either! (Again, this is another topic related to the anime that sparks worry, but I must stress that it’s pointless to get into a tizzy about something that isn’t concrete yet.) But yes, I’ve already seen English VAs expressing interest in certain characters; Daman Mills wants to audition for Malleus, Alejandro Saab has made it known he has Twst on his radar and wants to voice Leona, etc. (The latter has done Twst dorm leader impressions for fun before; I think Mr. Saab could make for a decent Leona or even Malleus!)

Don't worry about the previous ask ^^ I think it's better that we discuss these things with one another rather than post or tweet into the void and allow those negative feelings to fester. If you want to view it in a different way, think of it like the OB boys actually getting therapy/finding someone to confide in instead of being allowed to stew in their own emotions and risking OB a second time. Sometimes all it takes is that gentle nudge or a reminder to step back and take a deep breath. When we let our emotions get the best of us, we end up thinking and acting in irrational ways, and then that can lead to people--whether yourself or others--getting hurt.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst manga #twisted wonderland anime #twst anime #twisted wonderland manga #notes from the writing raven #advice #Leona Kingscholar #Malleus Draconia #Riddle Rosehearts #Jamil Viper #Kalim Al-Asim #Scarabia #Azul Ashengrotto #Vil Schoenheit #Idia Shroud

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micahulrichdraws · 10 months ago

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Literally everybody asks you if they can get your work as a tattoo. I think I've seen you respond to that exact question three times in the last 30 days alone.

You might save yourself the trouble if you preemptively made an FAQ post about your work and its uses, and pinned it on your blog.

Funny enough, I get this ask a lot too lol.

So, I used to have my tattoo stuff pinned in the FAQ. But ironically that just lead to a new version of the question in my inbox, being 'i saw in your FAQ you were ok with people getting designs tattooed but what about this specific [anything i've ever drawn here] design', and a link to the picture in question. The folks who couldn't find my stance on tattooing my crap in the first place also couldn't find the FAQ so they still emailed + messaged about it anyway. Also started getting asks telling me what I should put in my FAQ in addition to the tattoo stuff. Ironically the whole thing probably resulted in ~30% increase in asks/emails/messages/smoke signals and probably drove me to drinking in the first place. It's my own personal Kobayashi Maru.

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dixons-sunshine · 1 year ago

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Yielding Isn't My Middle Name—Chapter Two | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: You and Daryl get a little bit more insight on your ambushers. The leader, Liam, is extremely suspicious, but you just can't figure out why. And to top it off, a certain secret of yours gets revealed that changes everything.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 3.6k.

A/n: It's finally done. I powered through and got it done. Yay me! However, this chapter is pretty boring with limited action, but I hope y'all like this nonetheless!

Taglist: @dixons-girl89, @jupiter1700, @enlightndone, @shadowcitrine, @ddamm (comment/DM/inbox to be added!)

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“I know, it's a lot to take in at first.” With a grand gesture and a big, inviting smile, Liam proudly showed off the beautiful landscape behind him, putting all of the luxuries they had on display for you and Daryl to see—well, as far as luxuries could go in a world ran by the undead. “But I promise you, as soon as you get settled into your new...” There was a slight pause before he continued. “...chambers, a wonderful life most certainly awaits you.”

The leader's voice barely reached your ears. The whole scenario baffled you; if they wanted you to join their community, why feel the need to ambush and kidnap you? Why tie you up and throw you in the back of a van, with a sack over your head to obscure your vision, most likely as a way to ensure you didn't know what turns they took? And why wouldn't they just ask you whether or not you wanted to join the community in the first place?

A million thoughts ran with the speed of light through your mind, but there was one thing you knew for sure; you didn't trust this Liam guy, and you certainly didn't trust this community. You could immediately tell that something was off. You couldn't figure out just yet what about it unnerved you so much.

“Dave, Marco.” At the sound of their names being called, the two guys who stood beside you and Daryl perked up, their backs straightening as they regarded their leader. “Make sure that the cooks make enough food for our newest additions. And,” he began, looking at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Whether it was real or not, you didn't know yet. “Call up doctor Miller and tell him to expect two patients.”

“Why two?” one of the goons questioned. He looked at Daryl in disgust, something that irked you beyond belief. “Only the sexy lady here seems like she needs it.”

From the corner of your eye, you could clearly see Daryl tense up. To the untrained eye, they wouldn't even have noticed the way the archer's body language shifted, but you caught it. Of course you caught it. You knew Daryl better than anyone, and you knew that he was getting more pissed off by the second. One wrong move, and that man was more dead than the monster's that roamed the earth.

“Jesus, Dave,” Liam reprimanded him, clicking his tongue and shaking his head in disappointment. “You knocked the guy out with some hardcore stuff. We don't know how much of the fumes he inhaled. I don't want to take any chances. Our guests need to be properly checked out.”

Dave grumbled something under his breath, but ultimately agreed. However, right before he and the other man, who you assumed to be Marco, walked off in the direction of a small building, he stopped next to Liam and whispered something in his ear. The leader nodded before waving him off. They left and soon disappeared, and your attention quickly got drawn to the leader again.

Liam turned back to regard you and your husband. His lips formed into a tight smile, his eyes squinting with the pull of the muscles. For some reason, the action sent a shiver up your spine, and definitely not the good kind you'd experience when Daryl softly traced his fingers over your back. You had a lot to be wary of, and this Liam guy certainly didn't make a very good first impression on you or Daryl. You were sure that your husband wanted to lunge at the man and pound his face into the ground with his bare hands, and you definitely didn't blame him. You wanted to do the exact same thing.

Liam motioned to someone over your shoulder. In moments, somebody was grabbing at your shoulders and hoisting you up onto your feet. You stumbled a bit, not tumbling back to the ground only because Liam stepped forward to steady you. You instantly jerked back, moving away from his touch. You would've punched him for even thinking of touching you when he was the reason you were probably light-years away from your friends and family, but the rope tightly binding your hands stopped you from doing so.

You heard grunting coming from behind you. You spun around and saw the same goon practically manhandling your husband, forcing him up to his feet. When Daryl struggled against his hold, the man decided that punching him would be a good decision. The sight of Daryl being knocked back down to the gravel unleashed a certain protectiveness in you, and you took a warning step forward.

“You stay the fuck away from him, and keep your goddamn hands to yourself!” you yelled in anger, moving over to your husband and sinking down to your knees beside him. You thanked your lucky stars that your hands were bound in front of you and not behind your back, because it allowed you to trace your fingers over his face, searching for any bleeding. “Baby—”

“M'alrigh',” Daryl mumbled, glaring up at his attacker, his eyes alight with the fire of a thousand suns. “Asshole punches like a girl. No offense, Peach.”

You gave him a small smile. “None taken.” You helped him sit back up with a lot of effort, your hands straining against the rope and getting rope burn in the process. You clambered up onto your knees and carefully stood up, struggling to maintain your balance. Daryl followed your lead, and soon the two of you were stood in front of the leader.

Liam gazed at the two of you thoughtfully, his face unreadable. His green eyes flickered between you and Daryl for a moment too long for your liking before he readapted his smile. ��Sorry about that, mate,” he began, his gaze landing on Daryl before moving over to the goon that had just attacked Daryl a few moments prior. “Peter just doesn't know how to behave himself.” The aforementioned man cowered under his leader's gaze, something you instantly picked up on and locked in the back of your mind. “Don't worry, he'll be punished appropriately.”

“Sir, please, I'm so—”

“Save it,” Liam snapped, glaring at the man harshly. “You know the rules, Peter. All actions have consequences. Those are the rules. If I ease up on you, the next person will expect me to do so and order will be disrupted.” He stopped for a few moments, simply staring at Peter with an unreadable look in his eyes. “You are dismissed. I expect you to be in my office in two hours. If you're not, well, you know what will happen.”

Whether that last part was a warning or a threat, you didn't know. However, what you did know was that for whatever reason, this Peter guy was deathly terrified of his leader. He visibly slumped and averted his eyes from everyone as he hurried away, practically bolting as if being chased by something.

Now being left alone with Liam, your eyes locked with the man's green ones. You couldn't quite place your finger on it, but there was something wrong with the man in front of you. He reminded you a lot of the Governor, the more you thought about it, but at the same time, he was different. It annoyed you to no end that you couldn't quite figure out exactly what about the green-eyed man made you feel cautious.

Well, his men ambushed and kidnapped you and your husband, so that was a pretty good place to start.

“Once again, I am so incredibly sorry about that,” Liam started, his face adapting a look of sympathy. “Peter is a rather new addition to my ‘police force’, so to speak. He hasn't quite learned that we don't resort to violence unless it's an absolute necessity.” He stopped for a second, looking at you before sighing. “Miss, I truly am sorry about what Peter did to you as well. Please excuse me for saying this again, but you do look like shit.”

You couldn't understand what this man's deal was. Merely a few minutes ago, while he was surrounded by multiple of his men, he had seemingly mocked you about the injuries you had sustained. However, now he was apologizing and being sympathetic? What was this man's motive?

“Now, Daryl and Y/N, I believe?” Liam began, successfully gaining confused and guarded looks from both you and your husband.

“How the hell do ya know tha'?” Daryl barked defensively, straightening his back to appear larger—almost as if he was facing a bear.

Liam's lips twitched up into a small wicked smirk at the archer, but he very quickly disguised it with a welcoming smile. “I know a lot of things, mate.” He shrugged his shoulders and motioned to the farmland surrounding you. “I need to know things to keep my people safe. They depend on me, you know?”

“Still doesn't answer my goddamn question,” Daryl practically growled, taking a threatening step towards the man. “How the fuck do ya know our names?”

Liam didn't falter under the Dixon man's harsh glare. If anything, he straightened his posture and met Daryl head-on, his height adding an advantage over the archer. However, having known your husband for a long time, you knew it was time to intervene before he started a fight he wouldn't be able to finish. His hands were tied and Liam had who knows how many people to back him up. The two of you were heavily outnumbered and outgunned.

“Daryl,” you called to him softly, raising your tied hands to gently grip his shoulder. “I really don't think that's the thing we should be concerned about right now. It doesn't matter if he knows our names. What matters is that we have to get the fuck out of here. We do that by playing along for now,” you mumbled into his ear, quiet enough to not alert Liam of your plan.

Daryl glared at the leader of the community for a few moments longer before stepping back, sharing a determined look with you. You gave him a small smile before turning back to Liam, regarding the green-eyed man with a strained, fake smile.

“I'm sorry about him,” you began, your voice sickeningly sweet. You were taking a page out of Carol's book—you were playing the wolf in sheep's clothing, biding your time until you and Daryl could strike back. You could only hope that your earlier outburst towards Peter wouldn't be used to call your bluff. “It's just that we weren't brought here under the friendliest circumstances. And now you know our names and it's a bit creepy. He's being wary.”

“For good reason,” Liam replied with a nod, motioning for you and Daryl to follow him. You shared a look with Daryl before following behind the man, Daryl following close behind. “You can't be sure about the dangerous pricks that are out there.”

“Ironic, ain't it?” Daryl grumbled lowly, glaring at Liam through his hair as the two of you followed behind the leader. He received a slight jab to his stomach from your elbow, and he let out a soft grunt.

“You see, that's why we built this place.” Liam walked on and motioned to the fields on his left. There were multiple people working on the crops; some watering, some picking, and some planting. You couldn't be completely sure, but you swore you saw a faint glint of metal wrapped around most of the workers' legs. Were you just out of it from the pain in your head, or were those shackles?

“Well, built is the wrong word. We found this farm back when everything first went to shit. The crops and the farmhouse were luckily still standing. We... expanded, so to speak. We built the walls to keep the flesh eaters out and built more homes on the property to house our growing population.” He stopped and turned back to you and Daryl. “I hope you don't mind, but you'll have to stay in the farm house with me for the time being. We're busy building new homes but it won't be ready for another couple of weeks, maybe months.”

“Jus' one question 'fore we decide,” Daryl began, stepping forward. “Why'd ya have to bring us here by force? Why didn't ya jus' ask us to come here instead of kidnappin' us?”

Liam stared at Daryl with a blank expression on his face. His face didn't give anything away, and it unnerved you beyond belief. However, he soon gave the two of you yet another smile. You were genuinely starting to wonder if his face was starting to hurt from the excessive amount of smiling.

“There's a reason for everything, champ. However, not everyone is allowed to know my reasonings to the things I do. That's reserved for the people I trust. But do know that I did it for your own goods. Between you and me, that entire building was surrounded by flesh eaters. You most certainly would've died without my men.”

“Wha' the hell do ya know 'bout—”

“Sir? I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but Dr Miller is ready for the new arrivals,” a small, timid woman spoke up, gaining the attention of you, Daryl and Liam.

“Ah, Mariah,” Liam spoke, nodding at her in greeting. He turned back to you and Daryl, using his hand to motion towards the woman. “Please follow her to Dr Miller. He'll make sure to patch you up and ensure you're fit and ready for tomorrow.” He walked a few steps backwards and clapped his hands twice. “Welcome to Sunny Meadows! Come meet me in the farm house once you're done.”

With that, he turned around and stalked off, leaving you and Daryl alone with the woman, Mariah. The aforementioned woman turned to look at the two of you. She was nervously fidgeting with her hands, her posture slouched and her eyes couldn't decide whether to focus on you, your husband, your wounds, the ropes tying your hands together, or the ground. You were confused by her obvious fear towards you. What people was she used to dealing with? Did she really think that you were going to hurt her?

“Please follow me,” she stammered out with a nervous squeak, turning around and speeding off into the direction of the very same building those other men, Dave and Marco, had disappeared into earlier.

You hesitantly started following her. Daryl grumbled and followed your lead, glaring at any person who dared to lock eyes with him. You had to withhold your chuckles at your husband, knowing that it was neither the time nor place for that. Under normal circumstances, you'd laugh at your husband's antics. But not now. Not when your main priority was getting the hell out of that place.

You soon arrived at the makeshift medical building. You followed her in, taking in the pure doctor-like feel of the building. If you didn't know any better and somebody had blindfolded you and brought you here, you would've believed that this was a legitimate doctor's office. But you did know better.

A man, who you presumed to be this doctor Miller character everyone was talking about, placed a syringe down on the table and gave you all inviting smiles. “Welcome!” he greeted you enthusiastically—and rather loudly, too. You winced at the sound, being painfully reminded of the incessant throbbing in your skull. “You both look rather terrible. Who should I focus on first?”

“Owen,” Mariah began in a soft voice. “If I may, maybe the woman? She took quite the beating.”

“Peter?” the doctor inquired, shaking his head and sighing when Mariah nodded. “That man has sent more patients my way than any scavenging trip accident has. I don't even know why your husband still keeps him around.”

Wait, husband? Liam was Mariah's husband? Then why was he treating her like that? Why was she so scared of him? A million different possibilities ran through your mind for the obvious fear the woman held towards her husband, and none of them were good. Daryl's ocean coloured eyes locked with your eyes. He visibly shared the same confusion as you. However, the doctor's orders caught your attention.

“Mariah, is it really necessary to have their hands tied? I can see the irritation from here. Please remove their binds.” Doctor Miller stopped for a moment, regarding you and Daryl with a thoughtful look. “Sir, ma'am, speaking from experience, please don't try to run or attack once those binds are removed. Whenever there's a new addition, the walls are very guarded. You'll be shot instantly.”

Mariah gingerly removed the ropes from your arms and tried to remove Daryl's. However, your husband flinched back at the foreign touch, making the woman confused. You simply gently pushed her aside and moved over to him, starting to untie his binds. This time, Daryl stood still, and in no time at all, his hands were freed. He rubbed his wrists, the rope burns visible.

“Alright,” the doctor started. “Ma'am, please lay down on the bed. I'll tend to you shortly. Sir, you may take a seat on that chair next to the bed while you wait.”

You looked out of the window and weighed your options. However, the doctor wasn't lying; there were multiple guards patrolling the walls in the distance. There also were guards walking up to the makeshift medical building, most likely being sent to ensure you and Daryl didn't try anything.

You had no other option. You had to continue playing along.

You slowly walked over to the bed and laid down. Daryl hesitantly plopped himself down on the chair next to the bed, his eyes darting around the room. He was clearly trying to think of an escape plan, but he wasn't succeeding.

“Alright,” Doctor Miller began, walking out of the side room and rolling a machine out with him.

You instantly knew what that machine was. “No, doctor, you can't. No, don't—”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Daryl stood up from the chair and glared at the doctor, his mind instantly assuming the worst at your reaction. “The hell is tha'?”

“Sir, please relax.” Mariah walked up to the side of the bed, grabbing a tube of some sort of gel from the drawer. “We have some new equipment we've been wanting to test out. We found this ultrasound machine yesterday. We just want to test it out and make sure it works.”

Your heart stopped beating. All at once, thoughts of your unborn baby flooded your mind. You couldn't believe that you had forgotten about the fact that you were pregnant. With everything that happened, your mind neglected to remind you of that pivotal fact. And now everyone was going to know, including your husband who you had yet to tell.

“Doc, I don't think that's a good idea,” you warned him, pleaded with him, but the man didn't listen.

“Nonsense. This'll be over before you know it. It won't hurt, I promise you.”

“Ma'am, can I lift your shirt?” Too frozen to answer her, you simply stared. Deciding for you, Mariah lifted your shirt a bit and opened the tube with the gel. “This might be a bit cold.”

The cold was the least of your worries. You had taken quite the beating. What if your baby was hurt? What if your baby was dead? What if the doctor couldn't find a heartbeat? All of those thoughts flooded your mind, so much so that you barely heard Daryl talking to the doctor.

“Why does she need'a do tha'? Can't some other chick do this?”

“I was going to ask someone to come in today to test it, but she's here now. Might as well get it out of the way.” Doctor Miller started with the exam, placing the object on your stomach and moving it around. At first, the screen didn't pick up a thing, and that made you want to cry. However, the steady thumping of a heartbeat could soon be heard, and a small figure appeared on the screen.

“Oh, wow. That's a strong heartbeat,” Doctor Owen Miller told you with a smile, the ultrasound depicting a growing baby. “Congratulations, you two.”

Your heart was attempting to jump out of your chest. It was amazing to you that the little blob on the screen would soon develop into a baby, your baby. You would pick out their name and scavenge for things for your little one, and you're sure Daryl would—

Oh, god. Daryl.

Slowly looking over to your left, you locked eyes with your husband. Instead of finding the love, affection and adoration that usually swam in his ocean coloured eyes, you found something else. You found anger, shock, worry, but above all else? You could see a renewed sense of determination in his eyes.

The archer was pissed at you for hiding your pregnancy and convincing him to let you wander beyond the walls, but he couldn't think about that. He had to get you to safety, away from these monsters. He had to keep you and your unborn baby safe.

The doctor should've heeded your warning. The doctor never should've insisted to take an ultrasound. Because of doctor Owen Miller, Daryl Dixon was determined. Daryl Dixon was going to tear that whole place apart, and anyone who dared to lay a finger on you would meet an agonizing end.

The people of Sunny Meadows were going to pay.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

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shaymincafe · 5 months ago

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Ask Karma

Okay so since we're dispensing advice into the community for our newer members, I thought I'd throw my hat into the ring with an ask blog etiquette item that I think people have somewhat neglected recently: ask karma.

Ask karma is the practice of sending asks back to people who have sent you one. When someone sends you an ask, it is generally expected that you will send one back in return. It is to your mutual benefit to do this since now not only do both of you have asks in your inbox to work with, but it also exposes your blogs to each others' followers and can potentially gain you new readers.

Ask Calls are a Two-Way Street

Generally speaking, when someone makes an ask call, you should view it as a quid pro quo situation. Unless the person explicitly states in the post otherwise, they usually wants asks back in return for the ones they're sending out. While this is not always the case, like with me where I have way too many asks already and don't need more, more often than not, this is the expectation and it's bad form to not do so.

It's the equivalent of borrowing someone's pencil in school and never giving it back. At the end of the day, it's not super consequential, but the person whose pencil you just took isn't going to be super happy that they gave that to you and got nothing in return. You feel me?

This is especially true for written blogs, who I have noticed tend to get hit by this the most. Written blogs can get through their posts a lot faster than most art blogs and therefore need asks more often. But they also tend to get a lot fewer asks!

I experienced it myself during the PokeAskMagi event where I sent out around 20 asks from @askthewhiterocket and got back 7 in total for the entire event. By comparison, Shaymin Cafe also sent out around 20 asks and got approximately 12 in return. Not a lot more but it's still a better ROI especially consider Shaymin Cafe was the far less active of the two blogs during the event.

Everyone who sent an ask to Ask the White Rocket also sent one to Shaymin Cafe, despite the majority of the blogs I interacted with getting asks from BOTH of my blogs. In addition, during my final ask call for Ask the White Rocket, I got 1 ask in return for like 5 sent out, even after explicitly stating that the inbox was empty and I wanted asks.

I realize Shaymin Cafe is a popular blog and since I had two blogs, people probably ended up just sending an ask to the more popular blog of the two since Shaymes is a fun character and such. But the same thing happened last year when Shaymes wasn't even an active character and I was really only answering asks from Kyo's blog. To be quite frank, that's unfair to the written blogs, and unfair to me too.

It takes time to send asks. Ask hints make it easier, sure, but not everyone has them. Additionally, not all ask hints are incredibly straight forward. Some require you to read a bit in the blog's backlog if you aren't familiar with it to craft an ask that a person can work with (this is why I tend to link stuff with my ask hints). Some people might also want to double check the rules of a blog first or read up on the characters to ensure they're not sending a human character to a blog that doesn't allow them, or a Gengar to a character with trauma from ghost-types without expressed permission from the creator first. This goes doubly so when you're sending asks out from multiple blogs, like I was during the event.

That effort should not go unrewarded, so the least you can do is send an ask in return! It's just good manners.

This also goes for Munday asks

Admittedly, I am pretty bad about this myself, so we're going a little pot calling kettle black, BUT it's generally good form to also send Munday asks back to people who send them to you. Now if they're not open to Munday asks or w/e then no sweat it's fine, but let's be real, we all like to yap. We all like to talk about our characters. We all enjoy answering Munday asks, so spread the love and send asks back to people who send them to you.

Part of the reason I don't really make the effort to send out Munday asks much anymore and part of why I don't open for Munday as frequently either is candidly I got very tired of sending out like a dozen Munday asks to everyone I saw open for Mundays and then getting like... 2 in return. There were a couple weeks back in like July-August were I quite literally got 0 Munday asks, and it was incredibly disheartening. Like, don't get me wrong, I enjoyed coming up with questions for other people, but it was also a total downer to sit there the entire day waiting for asks to come in and then never getting any. Not even one asking how my day was or how my weekend went. Total and complete silence.

And sure, thinking of questions is hard, I get it! You wanna know my secret? When I was sending out Munday asks regularly, I googled first date questions or improv icebreakers. There's so many great questions to ask people from those. Sure, they can be be incredibly shallow and I'm sure any veteran ask blogger whose been at this a while has probably asked and answered whether they like coffee or tea better. But I'd rather answer that ask for like the fourth time than get nothing because then I'd at least get the opportunity to talk about my thoughts on both for a minute.

This also goes quadrupley so for the memes. There are times where I see people reblogging memes and going the whole day without any interaction because they're a smaller blog. And I'll admit, I straight up have sometimes gone on anon and sent them like three asks back to back because I didn't want them to feel like no one cared about them or their characters. They deserve to get a bunch of asks too, that's part of the fun!

And I think with memes the not sending asks in return is far less excusable because usually there's emojis or numbers that you can literally just copy and paste into the ask box. I cannot tell you how many times I saw blogs I'd never met before reblogging a meme post and it took me all of five minutes to go pick a random emoji and a name from their cast page and drop that into their inbox. It is quite literally that easy.

You should also, generally speaking, send an ask to the person you got the meme from too. Whether they were the one who created it or simply just brought it into popularity, sending them an ask for the meme is a nice way to say thank you for letting you use it too. It took time and effort to create and/or find that meme, and I guarantee you they did not do it simply because they wanted other people to use it on their own blogs. They did it so THEY could answer asks from it on their OWN blog. So give them the opportunity to!

FAQ

The blog I want to send an ask to has (insert species of character) and my blog doesn't interact with that (or vice versa).

That's fine! You don't have to send an ask in character if you don't want to. Sure that's the norm, but if the casts of your blogs are incompatible for some reason, then by all means just don't send an in character ask.

The blog I want to send an ask to doesn't have readily available/up to date asks hints.

You have a couple options here. You can read back through the blog to see what has recently happened to get a feel for what might be a good ask. If you're lucky maybe they'll have a taglist somewhere that'll make backtracking easy. But if not, skimming is fine too. Otherwise, just directly DM the blog and ask them what kind of ask they want. I've done this several times and that can be a great way to get a blog exactly what ask their looking for.

The blog I want to send a Munday ask to is doing a meme I don't want to engage with.

Send them a normal question then! I guarantee you they wouldn't be opposed to answering something opposed to the meme, and even if they don't respond, they'll at least know you tried to return their ask.

The blog that sent me an ask said in their ask call they don't want asks in return.

No need to send one back then! If they said they don't want any, then they aren't expecting any in return. I do this all the time! Sometimes we just like sending out asks for fun and that's a-okay!

The blog I want to send an ask to has closed their inbox.

That's okay! In this instance, it is perfectly reasonable to not send an ask in return. If they've closed their inbox, they're likely not expecting asks back. So you're totally in the clear to not send one in return. No need to go crawling through their submission box to send one in (people actually don't usually like this). Just maybe keep an eye out in the future for if their inbox reopens!

Unless they like explicitly made a post asking for asks within like the last day. In that case please tell them because they probably forgot to open it again (happens more often than you think).

The blog I want to send an ask to doesn't have an organization system making their story, characters, hints, and other materials used in ask crafting difficult to find.

In that case, the burden lies with that blog, not you. Organization is EXTREMELY important. Skins covers this a bit in their ask blog advice post. Having easily accessible tag lists, ask hints, and casts pages can really help with getting asks sent your way. In the same way it isn't fair to someone to not send asks in return, it's equally unfair to make someone scroll through a bunch of meme reblogs just find materials to send an ask with.

The best you can do in this situation is message the blog to ask them for what they want. But if the materials to craft the ask aren't readily available to you, that is on them not you.

In short, please exercise Ask Karma. If someone sends you an ask, please send one back! Thank you!

#noblejanobii squeaks #ask blog #pokemon ask blog

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rebelliousstories · 1 year ago

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That’s My Wife

Relationship: Luke Alvez x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Descriptions of Violence, Fluff

Word Count: 3,662

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part Two: Coming Home

Summary: When the team gets called in on a case, an interesting revelation comes out about the newbie.

Khalil Gibran once said, “If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.”

“What do we know?” Emily was in a mood today, and it was not one to mess with. Having just got off the phone with the director of the FBI, she was frantic in finding out what was going on.

“Earlier today, as in two hours ago, there were reports of a bank robbery in progress. But the M.O. is what caught our attention.” Garcia responded, clicking the remote to activate the tv in the round table room. As the other agents filed in, they were met with a horrifying sight.

Animal masked robbers were parading around the lobby. A lion, a tiger, a wolf, and a shark were present. They waved guns around without a care in the world, and kept their finger on the trigger. Shark took off and began to stuff money into his bags, while the other three kept their eyes on the groups of people they were holding hostage. Everyone was analyzing and scrutinizing every frame of the video feed.

“What bank?” Luke asked, keeping his eyes on the feed.

“Three Ring bank in downtown D.C.” Penelope responded, looking around in confusion.

Without a warning, the agent took off to the bullpen silently. He pulled out his phone and was shocked to see a voicemail in his inbox waiting for him. Luke answered the call and just listened.

“Hey baby. I know you’re probably at work, but I am finally home from tour. I was gonna keep it a secret and surprise you tonight, but I just couldn’t wait. Go catch those bad guys, baby. I’m goin’ to the bank and then goin’ to see our baby at home. I love you, sugar. Go be a superhero.”

His fist clenched as he lowered the phone from his ear. Luke turned and was surprised by Emily standing directly behind him.

“Is everything alright?” She asked, despite knowing the answer to her question. The agent took a moment before he responded.

“Our bank is Three Ring. Specifically, we go to Three Ring in downtown.” Luke whispered, rubbing his hands over his face. Emily held an understanding look on her face as she processed the information.

“Is there anything I can do?” Getting her phone out, she listened and read her text at the same time.

“Just don’t take me off of this case. I need to find her.” Prentiss nodded her head and set a hand on his shoulder.

“Go find a quiet, empty room. Clear your head and get all of your frustrations out. Then I want you back in the round table room and getting to work.” Turning on her heel, she left Luke and trusted he would do what she instructed.

“What have you got, Garcia?” Emily marched in to her lair with determined voice and step.

“Um, so I was looking in to who I could identify on the video feed. Now these guys have been staring at a woman, just one in particular. So I did my usual sleuthing into this mystery woman that seems to have their attention and-”

“Get on with it, Pen.”

“Of course,” she readjusted her glasses, and started again. “This woman is the girl behind the concert we went to last month, Amour Yen. And doing some additional digging I found out her name, address, phone you name it. Maybe we can use it?” The colorful analyst rambled.

“Bring up her driver’s license photo again, and shoot it over to my phone, please.” Emily left shortly afterwards. Everyone was tense and on edge as they tried to find out who the men in masks were, but the unit chief only had one job she needed to do. The ping came through, and she searched the sixth floor empty rooms until she found Alvez sitting in a chair, with his head in his hands. Prentiss closed the door which made the agent look up.

“This is her?” Her tone was soft, as she showed him the DMV photo on her phone. Luke nodded without a word, and bowed his head once more.

“We will get her out safely, Luke. But you need to tell them. We think she’s being targeted.” The agent lifted his head abruptly, and made his way to the round table room. Emily followed close behind, and signaled for everyone else to join them. She shot off a text to Garcia, and was met with the whole team upon entering the room. Shutting the door, Emily addressed everyone first.

“Before we continue our investigation, and get our feet on the ground at the bank, there is something that needs to be revealed as Garcia has pointed out that a specific woman seems to be targeted.” She gave way for Luke to pick up.

“I’ve kept something from the team and I can’t do it anymore. The woman in the video is my wife.” There was a pause as the secret was finally out.

“Is that why her last name is Alvez on her license?” Penelope asked, breathless from the information and fear of her team’s family being targeted. Luke nodded before he continued.

“We keep it a secret and keep it on a need to know basis because of my job. The only person who knew before this was Emily, but that was because I had to list her as my emergency contact. Even when I was in the Fugitive Task Force, we kept it close so that no one could use us against each other. If she is being targeted, it’s because of me.”

“We’ll start by digging into Luke’s background with the FTF, then with the BAU. Garcia, I need everything you can find everything you can about his wife. We need to figure out what we’re up against. Rossi, I want you, Reid, and Simmons with the mobile command center in downtown. Let’s get to it everyone.” As the team dispersed, Luke tried to follow the team going downtown only to be stopped by Emily.

“Please, I need to go make sure she’s okay, Prentiss.” Luke pleaded, watching helplessly as the three men left for the SUVs.

“I said I wouldn’t take you off of the case, even though it is protocol. But I will not have you in the field. You’re going to be more useful to us, and to her, here. Now help us figure out who these people are.” She redirected him to go back to the round table room, and begin sifting through his career.

“Keep your heads down!” Lion shouted, waving his pistol around as people whimpered. Huddled with another woman, determined eyes were assessing the whole situation. She twisted her wedding ring around on its chain around her neck while trying to remember what her husband taught her. There were only four men that she counted, and one entrance and exit. Sirens were already outside, which coupled with the entry and exit point predicament, it meant one thing; everyone in this building were trapped together.

Keeping her breathing in check, her hand reached into her pocket, and tried to type discreetly.

Sierra. Oscar. Sierra. Alpha - Delta.

“What the hell are you doing?” A voice startled the phone back in her pocket, and she looked up. Tiger was pointing a gun to her.

“What’s in your pocket?” Reaching her hand back in, she wrapped it around the object and pulled it out to show him.

“Candy? Really?” He asked, not convinced.

“I have blood sugar issues. I keep snacks on me to help regulate it.” She replied, holding the hard candy out for him to take. Tiger snatched it from her hand and slipped his mask up just enough to plop the candy in his mouth. What he did not see, was that she was staring intently at his face at an identifying mark. A long scar on his cheek. Tiger turned around and she hurriedly ducked her head to send another text.

Scar. Tiger.

“What are you doing?” A woman next to her asked. Mrs. Alvez saw the wedding ring on her finger.

“My husband is FBI.” She whispered. “What’s your husband’s name?”

“Frank.” They kept their voices down as they spoke.

“Mine’s is Luke. We’re going to go back to them, okay? They haven’t removed their masks which is a good sign.” A buzz rattled her hand causing her to look down.

Roger. Head down. Romeo, Romeo, Sierra responding. At King Arthur.

The wave of relief at knowing that Luke’s teammates were coming to help her made her relax just a bit. All she could hope for now was that they would get in before the team of robbers dropped their masks and started shooting.

“Just got a text from my wife. She says that the one in the tiger mask has a scar.” Luke walked over to where Garcia was remotely set up at the round table. “Can you search the feed for anywhere that man might have a scar?”

“Of course. Yes. I can do that.” As Garcia worked, Luke watched her efforts on the big tv screen behind them. The tape was rewinding, and rewinding before he intervened.

“Wait, wait, wait. There. Stop.” Penelope followed the order. “There. Do you see it?”

“Yeah. He takes something from her hand and slips it in his mouth.” The tech analyst was confused as she tried to think of reasons, but Luke breathed out a sigh of relief.

“She keeps candy in her pocket for her blood sugar. But I taught her, in a situation like this, she needs to try and find identifying marks on unsubs. Look for men who were put away for armed robbery with a pronounced scar on their faces. Look in neighboring states as well.” Luke turned back to the files as the woman worked beside him.

A big black SUV rolled up on the scene, and out popped three agents already dawning their FBI issued Kevlar vests. Rossi walked forward and went to the command center lead, while the other two trailed behind him.

“You must be captain Romanov. SSA’s Rossi, Reid and Simmons with the BAU. Have there been any demands?” He shook hands with the police captain.

“Not yet. Your guys just finished setting everything up, and helping my guys secure the area. We have access to the security cameras inside, but there has been no contact.” She explained, showing them around. Rossi assumed his position next to the phone box and casted his eyes towards the bank.

“Well, let’s see what we can make happen. Is this tapped in?” With a conformation, he pressed dial.

A shrill ring sounded through the bank. Everyone looked around for the source of the noise, but no one could see it clearly. That was, until, Lion stalked over to a phone that was behind the tellers booth. He yanked the phone off of its resting place, and held it against his ear.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“This is SSA David Rossi. Who am I speaking to?” the man on the other end chuckled as he looked out to the room.

“You can call me Leon.” He answered.

“Okay Leon. What do you say to letting the hostages go? You don’t have to go through with this.” David tried to reason with him.

“No. I don’t think so. There’s some pretty special ones in here that we need.” Leon looked over to the rest of the people around him. His eyes stopped briefly on a woman that his brother stopped by earlier. Shark was trying to find an alternative way out, while Wolf and Tiger were managing the people.

“Is there anything that you want? Something that I can get you?” Rossi asked, looking towards his two other agents.

“We want a way out of here. Call off the cops, call off the feds, and let us go free.” Leon was starting to get agitated the longer he was on the phone.

“I will see about what I can do, but you know that won’t be easy.” The agent was being real, and really hoped that the man with the gun would not use it.

“Tell you what, you call your buddies off, and I don’t kill everyone in here. Deal?” A dull tone rang through as the phone was hung up on Leon’s side. Rossi looked around to his teammates and suddenly had an idea.

“This doesn’t sound like he’s going to follow through. Murder is not in the M.O. but someone inside might. Matt, you and Reid try and find groups of four that commit armed bank robberies. This isn’t their first rodeo.”

Luke marched into Emily’s office with a file and determination. Tara was in there with the unit chief helping her sift through his career.

“Found the man in the tiger mask.” The file plopped down onto the woman’s desk.

“Theodore Jameson. Served five years for a job he did with his twin brother back in 2010. Got a nasty cut from the botched job. The clerk of the store they were trying to rob got him with some broken glass from a window. It healed over into that jagged scar that we saw on the tape. I was the one that put them away. One of the men has to be his brother, Leonard.” Luke explained, feeling accomplished.

“Good work. But who are the other two? And which one is which?” Tara complimented.

“Tiger is Theodore so Leonard has got to be the Lion. Now we need Wolf and Shark. Have Garcia see if there are any connections in or out of prison.” Emily commented, handing the file back to Luke who took off to do the work.

“Come on man. We need a way out of here.” Leonard commented, badgering Shark.

“I’m trying man. Give me a minute.” He replied, disappearing again. Wolf sat at a table and kept quiet as he observed the place. This entire operation had gone to hell.

“Where is the woman? Where is she?” Leonard barked looking around, scrutinizing everyone from behind his mask.

“I’m looking for a woman with the last name Alvez. Where are you?” He yelled. From his right, a woman stood up, however this was not the one he was looking for.

“I’m Sofia Alvez.” She whimpered, standing on shaking legs. But Leonard just scoffed and waved her over with the hand with the gun. Sofia walked over and was practically shaking in fear. He brought his hand up and pistol whipped the woman. It did not kill her, but rather knocked her out cold. Shaking his head, he looked around to see who else was here.

“I’m bored, Leon.” Theodore commented as he waved his gun around. Without a warning or word, the man grabbed a random man and shoved him towards the glass doors. The entire police and FBI forces were on edge as they watched what was unfurling. A bullet planted itself in between the man’s eyes and he slumped forward. Screams erupted throughout as everyone was startled by the display. Theodore laughed as he stalked around. His mask muffled some of his words but everyone he got close to understood what he was saying.

“Eeny meeny, miny moe.”

Garcia shuffled her way into the round table room with an excited air about her. The remaining BAU members gathered around, and patched in the three that were at the bank.

“Okay, so you asked for any connections that would be relevant and I found it.” Pulling two additional pictures up on the big screen, the colorful analyst began.

“So when the Jameson twins were serving their five in the Virginia corrections facility, they were block mates with another set of twins. This time they were serving ten for pleading guilty to involuntary manslaughter after their last job ending in the store clerk being dead. I now present to you Wulfric and Samson Mitchell.” They were drawn to the tv once more.

“Yeah, I remember that case,” came Luke’s voice. “They claimed they were doing the robbing out of necessity and claimed that because they came from a trailer park that the judicial system was prejudiced.”

“So we know who they are. What’s our plan Rossi?” Emily called over the phone.

“They’ve already killed one person. Unsure about anyone else. But we’re trying to establish more contact.” He explained, keeping his eyes aware all around.

“Do we know who was killed?” Luke pleaded urgently.

“It’s not her, Luke.” Garcia confirmed, looking through her screen at the camera. He peered over her shoulder and let out a sigh of relief to see she was telling the truth.

“Rossi, get him on the phone and see if we can break them up. Penelope, give us a full blue print of the bank. I want to know every square inch of the place.” Prentiss ended the call, and delegated the rest of the team to finding out everything they could about the two sets of twins.

“Where are you? I know you’re in here.” Tiger sing-songed as he walked through the lobby waving his gun. When his eyes landed on her, he smiled behind his mask. Stalking forward, he grabbed Mrs. Alvez by her shirt and hauled her to her feet.

“Oh, hello pretty lady. I knew you would be here today.” The man got right in her face, and brought her over to a chair where he dropped her down without grace. “Stay.”

Watching him walk away, she realized that she was in view right in front of the window. She turned and tried to see if she could flag down the uniforms outside.

“Leo! Look at who we have here!” He called out, grabbing his brother’s attention. Leonard came around and laid his eyes on the woman in the chair.

“I think it is high time we have us a little reunion.” Leonard sneered as he neared the woman. Her nerves were going haywire as she realized that they were closing in on her.

Piling in to the SUVs, Luke was furious. These criminals had laid their hands on his wife, and they were going to pay for it. His vest was strapped on tightly, and his firearm was ready.

“How would they know that she was your wife if even the team didn’t know?” Tara pointed out as they drove on.

“She’s a public figure. They could’ve stalked her, or me. Or any variation of the two. Let me get Garcia on the phone.” They turned the corner and parked right as Penelope answered the call.

“Oracle is ready and willing. Whatcha need?” She answered somewhat chipper, but people could tell that it was a flimsy cover.

“Garcia, I need you to track her social media, phone calls, emails, anything. Looking for repeat offenders, text that were deleted or weird phone calls. Anything.” He stated, waiting impatiently with the rest of his team.

“Okay. Don’t know exactly what I’m looking for but…”

“But what Penelope?” Luke was getting fed up with this whole day.

“There’s an account called ‘tigerted’ and it has visited her social medias everyday for the past six months which just so happens to be the same amount of time that all four of the men inside of that bank have been released.” She whimpered.

“Garcia, look into any robberies in the last six months in surrounding states. What’s their endgame?” Matt asked, hands on his hips while they waited.

“I’m not sure,” she started, “they’ve never been around long enough to be caught. They’ve always been in and out with insanely good precision.”

“That’s not going to work, Penelope. Give us something to work with.” Luke growled, pacing back and forth with his phone in his hand.

“I’m trying to help but I have nothing in their previous jobs.” Tears of frustration were starting to build up and push over.

Before anyone else could respond, the phone rang from inside. Rossi held up a finger, and got the phone answered.

“Hello?”

“Agent Rossi, my partner has already killed one person. Who else are you going to let die before you let us go, huh?” The voice of Leon answered.

“Leon, who killed the victim? Was it Wulfric? Samson? Theodore?” There was silence over the other end of the phone.

“Leonard, you can end all of this right now if you let the hostages go, and you put down the weapons.” Rossi reasoned, but the sinking feeling in his gut was not helping.

“You know who we are?” Leonard asked, sounding out of breath.

“We know that you and your brother were put away by one of our teammates, and that you met Wulfric and Samson in prison. This is the first time you have ever been caught and cornered and you need to ask why. Somebody betrayed you, Leonard. It’s time to give it up.” There was more silence. It took a minute before someone finally spoke, after some commotion on the other end of the line.

“There’s no giving it up.” Dial tone greeted the BAU as they watched each other for a minute.

Theodore hung up the phone and pranced around the lobby. He removed his mask, which prompted Leonard to do the same.

“They know who we are. Including how we work. They know who we all are.” Leonard spoke, sounding like he was in disbelief.

“So what? No more hiding now bro. Now, we get to have some fun with her.” Theodore waved his gun to where the woman was sitting. She was still watching everyone with skeptical eyes as they moved about. Wulfric, who was sitting partially on a desk, removed his mask when the other two did, yet remained silent.

“You are just gorgeous. Don’t know how that man ever landed you.” As he grew closer, Theodore raised his gun with his finger on the trigger, and fired.

Bang

#rebelliousstories #writing #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #luke alvez x you #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez #emily prentiss #spencer reid #david rossi #matt simmons #penelope garcia #tara lewis #jennifer jereau

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