#but it sounded a little too farfetched

[bumpsyp1ains]

thought about a scenario during the mimic incident in future of freedom

when mimic stabbed tangle in the cheek, she instinctively grabbed the arm that had the knife in hand

through pure adrenaline, tangle TWISTED his arm the other way, breaking it and causing him to let go in pain.

this leads to whisper tackling him and throwing haymakers at his face until lanolin has to pull her off

[baeshijima]

— only under the rain do we shine

just some instances wherein you’re caught under a sudden downpour and you find yourself joined by the company of a familiar man.

INCLUDES : alhaitham ; dainsleif ; diluc ; zhongli

reader is gender neutral w/ you/your pronouns !!

A/N :  *gasp* sophie writing smth in canon timeline rather than an au ??? :shocked_pikachu_face: (blatantly ignores dains part while typing this haha,,,) i just love me some rainy (kinda) romantic moments ;w;;

likes and REBLOGS are appreciated if u enjoyed this !! <33

— alhaitham : kissing in the rain

“are you looking to catch a cold?”

“i’m not cold,” you huff out in response to alhaitham’s remark. “i’m feeling rather warm, actually.”

he blankly eyes your drenched form with scrutiny, and you fight the urge to shiver from the water droplets landing along the back of your neck. it’s not your fault the rain decided to pour when you decided to take a stroll! curse the weather and its unpredictable changes.

he gives a low hum after a few seconds of silence. “then why are your lips trembling?”

“i was just so excited to see you that my lips started to tremble— ack!”

the scribe stares blankly at you once more as he watches you try to rapidly blink away the raindrop that landed in your eye. he takes a brief glance at the downpour steadily increasing in strength before sighing to himself and stepping closer to you, lifting part of his cape to shield you from further onslaughts.

alhaitham had always thought rationality was the best and most efficient course of action. why should one prioritise fleeting emotions over sound evidence and logic? it never made sense to him, and he always thought it would simply stay that way.

well, keyword being “thought”, that is.

had he been told in advance that all sense of rationality would be promptly tossed aside when matters concerning you arose, he would’ve simply ignored that person and walked away. as much as he enjoys listening to others’ viewpoints and thoughts, some things are too illogical and farfetched.

but now he’s become a victim of irrationality and it’s all your fault. whether it’s the accumulation of time he’s spent with you that sparked this unyielding fondness or your terribly reckless habit of acting without much thought beforehand that makes him want to grovel, he doesn’t know. it’s simply a mystery to him how you’ve managed to weasel your way into his heart and plague his mind without much effort.

was it a year ago? no, it was longer than that. perhaps back in your student days? well, thinking back on it won’t change the irreversible. even when you smile at him like you are now, a sight to behold for his traitorous heart that only dares to pound so erratically when in your presence. even now the rain does little to deter him. in fact, it only seems to spiral him further, what with the way the raindrops drip off the contours of your face makes his mind shut down and fixate on the wet gleam along your lips.

ah. screw it.

in a deft movement he dips towards you, head angled and perfectly aligned with yours. something happens, and it’s only after his lips reluctantly part from yours do you realise what it was.

your lips tingle. is it from the kiss or is it from the heat steadily washing over you, the cold now drowned out?

“you’re warmer now.”

there’s something off about his tone — it’s filled with unspoken passion and void of his usual mechanical composure; almost as though he’s come to a groundbreaking revelation.

he stays close, lips barely a hair’s breadth away from yours. as much as you want to deny it, you can’t help but to agree with his statement. in fact, you’ve long-since forgotten the fact it was raining until now.

(mentally though, of course. you wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you openly admitting the affect he has on you. even if he knows a bit too well. but you can just ignore that.)

“however,” he continues in a mutter, and you suddenly find yourself at his mercy as his hand takes hold of your cheek in a gentle caress. “i don’t think you’re quite warm enough.”

yeah, maybe it would be a good idea to stop here and get out of the rain before one of you actually catches a cold. but alhaitham has only ever experienced irrationality and impulsive desires when with you, and this time is no exception.

— dainsleif : seeking shelter from the rain

sidestep to the left. duck. parry. clang! step to the right. clack! raise your arm—!

a resounding thud echoes across the training grounds. you catch your breath on the ground as you watch your training sword skid across the dirt before coming to a stop at the edge of the ring.

“you’ve gotten better, [name],” dainsleif states with a smile. he leans down with one hand stretched out towards you, the other clutching his own training sword at his side.

you huff lightheartedly and accept his hand. “i’m still light years away from your level of skill, captain.”

“what matters is your improvement. don’t be comparing yourself to others.”

you roll your eyes and walk over to the benches, guzzling down the contents of your water bottle and wiping away the lingering sweat with a spare towel. how typical of him. i’ll compare myself as much as i want just to spite him.

“and don’t drink your water so quickly. you’ll choke—” 

his reprimands are cut short when you interrupt him with a slew of coughs, your fist banging against your sternum. immediately, he panics. he rushes to your side and hovers over you for a second or two before patting your back in hopes of alleviating your discomfort.

you settle not a moment after, and he would be breathing a sigh of relief if not for the cunning glint in your expression. if he didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t believe you nearly lost to a bottle of water mere seconds ago.

“y’know, captain, you’re a really clumsy guy.”

“and whose fault do you think that is...” he finds himself muttering. it’s moments like these he’s glad you don’t hear him, for the embarrassment would be too much if you saw the opportune moment to tease him.

“hm? did you say something?” your only response is him turning away and downing his own water. isn’t that hypocritical of him? did he not just see what happened to you, or does he want to experience it that badly?? “uh, captain? shouldn’t you slow down there—” drip. “huh?”

a drop of water hits the tip of your nose. just as you’re about to squint up at the sky, you find yourself being pulled along to the nearest sheltered area in haste. unfortunately, the tree your captain pulled you to does little to avoid the downpour now ensuing, but it’s the thought that counts.

the rain persists and you can just about make out the blurry figures of your comrades running under cover somewhere far off. from what you can see, however, they seem to be having about the same luck as you both.

(you could’ve sworn you saw one knight nearly face-plant if it weren’t for the saving grace known as halfdan, who barely managed to catch him in time.)

with no end in sight you turn to your captain wringing the excess water from his gloves behind you, only for the words you were about to say dissipate at the tip of your tongue instead and a new sound replace it.

it wasn’t intentional, but the laugh that slips by your lips is good-natured all the same. with how the rain made your captain’s hair all flat and stuck to his face, it was impossible to not find the sight at least a little cute. and so without much thought you reach up, brushing away the damp strands from going into his eyes with such concentration that you miss the way his eyes widen and quiver, his body stiffening in place.

his throat runs dry at the close proximity, and he would feel embarrassed by the heat engulfing his body if not for his brain short-circuiting.

“there!” you grin, eyes closing in tandem with your widening smile, and the twilight sword finds himself at a loss once more when before you. “now your hair won’t obstruct your view!”

you’re right. he can see you clearer than before. though that holds little weight when the rest of the world always seems to blur together and leave only you to stand unaffected in the centre of it all — in the centre of his world.

(to hope for this time with you to last an eternity… is that such a selfish thought?)

— diluc : lending the other their jacket

crystalflies had always been a fascinating entity in your eyes. its existence was something akin to that from a fairy tale, though you suppose with the addition of visions and elemental lifeforms anything could be possible.

perhaps it’s the way they always seemed to flock to and hover over you ever since you were young, always keeping you company when you were on your own. people have always said they disliked human interaction, opting to flee when a certain perimeter is met. but you’ve never encountered such an issue — maybe they are the problem.

you blink at the crystalfly sat in your cupped hands, the anemo particles shimmering gently in the darkened rain.

well, they’re cute at least.

a weight abruptly drops itself atop your head and the crystalfly resting in your palms flutters away. from the warmth and scent alone you knew who the culprit and owner of the jacket was.

you turn your head to glance over your shoulder with narrowed eyes and a petty heart. “you didn’t have to scare away the crystalfly like that.”

the winery tycoon merely sighs at your accusatory tone. “i think preventing you from getting sick is more important than a crystalfly getting scared.”

“i’m strong!”

“say that again after remembering the incident from last time,” diluc instantly retorts.

at that you fall silent, a defeated pout settling upon recalling your bedridden week during the last heavy downpour. actually, scratch that, you don’t really want to remember.

(both the incessant pain and diluc’s worried-sick expressions... yeah. you’d rather forget that time.)

hugging the coat to also cover your body you glance up from your crouched form to inspect the expression the man has right now. aside from his usual nonchalant expression there’s a forlorn glaze in his eyes as he stares into something inconceivable to your eyes, but you can hazard a guess as to what it was that caused him to fall into this stupor. (it was raining heavily like this on that day, too, after all.)

“and what about you? what can your short sleeves do in this weather?” you take a jab, and it effectively snaps him out of his daze. unfortunately for you, however, he makes one back.

“i, at least, have plenty of body heat to keep me warm, so i’ll be fine.” you’re about to let out a protest, but he cuts in before you can ever open your mouth. “that’s why i gave you my jacket. is it not warm enough?”

you can’t deny it. it’s warm — too warm, almost. but it’s comforting nonetheless.

diluc’s eyes soften when you bury your face into the warmth of his coat. that familiar flutter of his heart soars once more, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you even if he wanted to.

when he couldn’t find you within the manor he panicked, the dropping of his heart heavier than before. finding you crouched by the grapevines surrounded by crystalflies was no strange sight, but with the recent fluctuations of the weather it made him worry more. so he rushed, driven by the sight of you lying sick in his bed on a similar day to this to prevent you from being in such pain once more.

for you, who’s been by his side even through both his best and his worst, this is the very least he can do; diluc can only hope you accept his company into the unforeseeable future as well.

“come on, let’s go in. adelinde prepared dinner for us while you were out gallivanting in the rain.”

“wha— i was not gallivanting! the crystalflies called for me!”

“yes, yes. let’s hurry now or you really will get sick again.”

— zhongli : sharing an umbrella

liyue harbor always seems bustling, so much so that you can’t recall a time where it wasn’t throughout your years of living here. even when a steady downpour occurs, just like now.

“of course it’s just my luck the rain starts after i finish shopping,” you mumble. you’re grateful the shopkeeper lent you one of their spare umbrellas just as it started. if not for them you would’ve been sprinting through liyue’s streets just to get back home without too much damage done to your shopping.

well, life seems to enjoy spiting you.

a lonesome figure catches your eye amidst the rushing crowd, and it takes you a moment to realise it’s zhongli. you always thought of him to be rather otherworldly, but standing still in the middle of such a downpour is a whole new kind of, uh, otherworldly. can’t all be sane and good-looking, you suppose.

he’s someone you’ve come to worry about in the time you’ve known him (which, admittedly, isn’t all that long. it’s like he just appeared one day out of the blue and stayed ever since!). he’s rather wise and has a good head on his shoulders, but even so, there are moments where his expression shifts; like he knows something you shouldn’t even dare to dream of, or sees something far beyond your comprehension. there are times where even his shared stories and history lectures have an unspoken sense of experience.

in short, he’s an enigma. a bit of a weirdo sure, but not enough to the point you’d avoid him altogether.

and so it’s because of that very sentiment you’re changing course and heading towards him instead of the comfort of your home. can’t have one of the few good people you know catch a cold now, can you?

he’s lost in thought, zhongli is. the rain has minimal affect on him, the ongoing war raging constantly within his body being more detrimental than a few drops of rain. so really it’s easy for him to reminisce on days such as this — alone in dreary weather accompanied by a sombre mood... it’s practically the perfect setup.

idly, he wonders just how many rainy days such as this have gotten him so wistful. no, perhaps it would be best to not think too deeply on it and continue on his way.

a shadow hovers over him and he can no longer feel the dampness of the rain stain his clothes. he glances up — an umbrella? — and not a moment later does he turn, your narrowed gaze meeting his perplexed one. 

“jeez, you’re such a handful.”

...he is?

with a sigh you take a step forward. zhongli blinks at the gesture, only noticing a second later your outstretched arm holding an umbrella between you both and connects the dots.

“there’s no need to worry about me,” he says, about to urge your umbrella back to shield you in your entirety. unfortunately for him, you’re stubborn.

“but you’ll get sick if you keep standing out here the way you were just now. we can just share.”

but i’m not a mortal like you, he wants to retort. he’s not like you, who can get sick without a moments notice. he’s not like you, who has only ever known life within the comforts of liyue harbor and its people. he’s not like you, whose blissfully radiant smile eases his weary soul. he’s not like you, who can effortlessly adapt to and understand human emotion. he’s not like you... you who deserves something meaningful in your fleeting lifespan.

he’s not like you, and you’re not like him. (oh, how he hopes you never have to face even a minuscule fraction of what he’s been through.)

it is only after your persistent stare does he eventually cave, a defeated smile resting helplessly on his lips at this situation.

“then allow me to at least hold the umbrella.”

and you beam at him in response, hugging your soggy shopping bag to your chest in delight.

“alright!”

he’s not like you, but maybe he can learn how to be while by your side.

(just for a moment, perhaps he can forget about the corrosion eating away at him. even if it’s as fleeting as the days that pass by.)

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[calypso707]

hey i adore your writing!

i was wondering how astarion would take care of his s/o who suffers from migraines and severe photosensitivity. my friends always call me a vampire because of it so i thought it’d be a funny dynamic 😆

this one is actually funny because i suffer from migraines as well, so here we are! I don't know if I'm proud of what I've written, but it was fun to do! enjoy! ❤

OS - Astarion x gn drow reader : Simple things.

Living on the surface had proved more complicated than the Underdark. Being born, growing up and spending a significant part of your life in the darkness had certainly had its advantages, but now that you were living on the surface, you realised just how different things were. Whether it was people's lifestyles or all those bright colours. So yes, there were bright colours in the Underdark, but they were often signs of danger, such as explosive mushrooms or plants releasing deadly spores.

You may have been used to the dark and could see in the night better than your companions, but constant exposure to the sun had its drawbacks. So, sure, it was nice to feel the light warming your skin, you could now appreciate things like the colour of the sky, listen to birdsong or even hear the sound of the wind, but your eyes still couldn't handle so much brightness. And on top of that, you had a tadpole in your skull that was not only making its own little nest but was also giving you migraines on a regular basis.

But you still tried to stay positive, because thanks to all the adventures you'd been through, however farfetched, you'd met your current companions, who had turned out to be loyal allies and faithful friends.

And above all, you had met Astarion.

A magnificient two-century-old vampire.

It was almost poetic, two beings of darkness who found themselves having to survive under the sun. So what was it between you two? It was a tricky question, but you cared about him as much as he cared about you, and knowing that was more than enough. Though, Astarion was handling the conditions and opportunities this adventure offered him better than you were. He had always loved sunbathing as soon as the first lights appeared. You enjoyed them too, but in small doses.

While you were enjoying a moment's respite from this chaotic and probably deadly mission, you had given yourselves a break and were strolling through the alleys of Baldur's Gate. Astarion was describing the things his former master, Cazador Szarr, had made him do, a certain bitterness in his voice. You tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but the sun was at its zenith, there were no clouds in the sky to dim its brightness and you felt as if your eyes were burning and your skull was splitting in two.

"Are you even listening when I am talking to you?", grumbled Astarion.

"Sorry… Can we take a short break?" you asked, using your hand to shade your eyes as you looked at him.

"My dear, are you sure that you are not a vampire?" said Astarion with a smirk.

"Hilarious" you sighed.

You took a few steps into the shadow under a stall on the main street leading to the Wyrm's Rock fortress. Astarion was looking at you with a slightly concerned expression; he seemed to be thinking.

"Hm.. I think I have an idea. Stay put." It was almost an order.

Before you could reply, he was heading off into "Carm's Garm" shop. You wondered what had gone through his mind. You decided to wait for him and you leaned against the stone wall behind you, watching the passers-by go about their business, carefree. You listened the trout seller shouting about how fresh his fish were and the wholesaler who was delighted with his harvest.

Long minutes passed, during which you examined everyone who passed in the street. You didn't hear Astarion come back, and you were startled when he cleared his throat once he was beside you. You looked at him and noticed that he was holding several hats under his arms. You tried to hide your smile but it was complicated.

"Let's see…" He put the pile of accessories at his feet and picked up a first hat and placed it on your head. It was a sort of pointy wizard's hat with hideous embroidery that went all the way around, and before you could even give your opinion, Astarion took it off, shaking his head and frowning. "Awful"

He then picked up a sort of adjustable steel helmet, and didn't even take the time to let you try it on before he tossed it aside, doing the same with a brightly coloured top hat. Finally, he took a simple brown hat with silver wings embroidered on the stiff leather and placed it on your head as gently as possible. The brim of the hat was wide enough to keep your face in the shade.

He stood back and examined you for a few seconds, his index finger resting on his chin: "Hm.. I think this one will do, darling. Of course, I still am the fashion icon of our group, but I can assure you you are not far from it now."

You readjusted your hat slightly and took a long look at him, biting your lower lip to hold back your smile. You were pleasantly surprised by his gesture and his words made you chuckle. Astarion moved closer to you and put his hands on your shoulders, pressing them lightly as you put yours against his chest.

"I am impressed, so you are able to do sweet things." you said.

"Sweet? What an idea" He grinned before tilting his head to the side, a thin smile on his lips. "It just should not be so unbearable to enjoy the simple things of life."

And he was right.

═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═

thanks for reading this OS, i hope you liked it!

don't hesitate to read my other writings on Astarion! ❤

Astarion x gn druid tav : On your skin.

Astarion x gn tav : No place for love.

Astarion x gn tav : A thousand thanks.

Fiction - Astation x fem!tav bard : Fruit of The Poisonned Tree

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven not Forgotten | Part 4

People often wondered whether a person dreamed while comatose. Whether they were aware of time passing.

It was constantly up for debate, some claiming yes, they could hear people, they could see faint shapes behind eyelids that simply refused to open, could hear questions, and sometimes respond with the faintest of movements.

Some claimed visions of torture would torment them, where IV’s, and tubes were placed to save their lives, chains, hooks, and ropes would be instead, every pull on a tube causing pain from a hook, every itch from bed sheet rash intensified like sandpaper rubbing their skin raw, every noise amplified into screams from chambers down the row, until their minds became inescapable torture chambers of their own making.

Eddie Munson was somewhat thankful that his mind, for the first time in his life, seemed quiet.

It wasn’t a torture chamber, or the semi-dark space behind his eyelids, it was a black void, the floor covered with water, or… some kind of liquid, he didn’t know what it was, but if he thought really hard, usually he could conjure something in there and that something wouldn’t be damp, the water wouldn’t touch it.

Be it that couch from Max’s trailer to lounge on, his bedroom, or a lone, solitary picnic table for him to sit upon and ponder life’s great mysteries. If he thought hard enough, he could make any place he knew appear for a time.

Was he dead? He assumed he should be, given his spectacular final act… but something about the void felt… purgatorial.

Not quite the pearly gates he never expected to get within an mile of, not quite the burning pits of Hell people assumed he’d somehow claim a throne in, but a middle ground. The waiting room between life and death. Limbo, Purgatory, not the up, or the down, but the middle where the powers that be left you until they could determine your fate.

Eddie liked conjuring his bedroom.

It was pretty accurate too!

He had his little fidget toys, he had his baby, which honestly sounded a little funky in the void space, but hey, he could practice things in there! He had his yoyo, was getting pretty good at the rock the baby trick, he had that basketball that he’d stolen from the gymnasium on a dare. He had his handcuffs from that time Hopper had forgotten to link his cuffs to anything, and just allowed him to bolt into the woods to figure out the cuffs somewhere else, he had his notebooks to scribble in.

Although nothing he scribbled ever actually stuck around.

He didn’t like looking in the mirror. The mirror… it felt. Wrong somehow. He couldn’t quite place why it felt wrong. The image looking back at him. It was him, but… it was wrong. Didn’t know how to explain it. Like he was staring into the face of something else wearing his skin, something else standing in a place somewhere else, even though it did look like him, it did look like his room. It felt wrong.

That was really the only thing that felt wrong in his void. The mirror. It was easy to ignore.

Most things were easy to ignore there. Like the strange passing of time. If time actually passed. Eddie had no idea, given his scribbles never stuck around he figured time was pretty much set in stone where he was, it didn’t pass. It didn’t matter really. Not much mattered. He was dead after all right? He’d gone lights out, and frankly had he any choice in his way to go? He’d have probably picked the one he went with.

He just wished it wouldn’t have dealt a crushing blow of trauma to the boy who’d quickly wormed his way into Eddie’s cold, cynical heart. He should apologise for that. Maybe in his next life, or maybe when the powers that be figured out where to drop his ass, he could get one of whoever shared the eternity, to pass on a message for him.

Like some kind of supernatural game of Broken Telephone.

Dustin had a friend with superpowers right? Or at least she’d had superpowers at one point, playing Broken Telephone from the great beyond couldn’t be that farfetched right?

God he was tired. Which was new. His limbs felt… heavy. Which was funny because he’d honestly forgot what his limbs were supposed to feel like. But all of a sudden, while sprawled out on his bed, he just felt… heavy. Eyelids drooped shut, breathing slowed, weighted down, he could hear the faintest beep, repeating, over and over again, it’d never been in his void before but—

It was fine. He could… he could handle a beep in his void. His void that seemed to grow a warmer shade of brown, details of his bedroom blowing away like wisps of smoke on a gentle breeze

Figures moved across his warm brown void, it wasn’t even a void anymore though if he were honest. It felt impossibly small. More just a space. A space behind his eyelids. Eyelids which struggled to open but seemed to want to.

Maybe he wasn’t dead. Maybe he was and this was just the process of waking up in the afterlife. Who knew. Not him. He’d been stuck in a void for… a few weeks maybe? Few days?

Probably a couple of days.

“—e’s coming back… heart rate is steady, vitals seem normal, Mr. Munson, can you hear us?”

“Mnnhhh” oh cool, his voice! There was a crack in his brown space, a crack that looked blurry, like looking through water, through tears, and sleep trapped in thick eyelashes, he tried to lift a hand to clear his eyes but found it locked down, trapped by something he couldn’t see.

“Get those damn things off my client this instant.” That was a voice he didn’t recognise.

“It’s a precaution.”

“Against what exactly? Please, in your infinite wisdom, officer, tell me what exactly this semi-lucid young man could ACTUALLY do to you in his current state? What? Are you scared that he’ll wiggle a pinkie at you? You’re grown men, act like it for heavens sake.” A different voice, feminine, commanding, didn’t recognise it though, respected it a little, but he didn’t recognise it.

“Mom… Officer, please… just take the handcuffs off of him, he didn’t do anything. He wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, knowing him he’d open all the windows in the house just to waft the damn thing out” Oh. Oh now that—That voice. He recognised that voice. The weight on his wrist seemed to vanish. Awesome.

“Oh now… I must be dead” his voice, sure, but awfully croaky, like he’d smoked a full six pack every five hours for a month. “Although how I went up I dunno…” didn’t hurt to speak but… it felt weird.

“Munson? The hell are you—”

“Pretty sure that could only be the voice of an angel.”

“He’s… very medicated.” the first voice seemed hesitant to speak, Eddie assumed doctor.

“Hiiiigh as a kite” he managed to croak out with a crackly chuckle that cut short with a grunt and a pained wince. He preferred his void. He didn’t hurt in his void.

“Jesus Christ, Munson.” His favourite voice was back! “Doc can we get some kind of wipes or something here?” Moments later, the gentle touch of large, rough hands on his cheek had that funny little heart monitor pick up its pace. It largely went ignored, although the silence while it went wild was pretty condemning. “Calm down, I’m just wiping your face.”

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t say it. Dooon’t—“sponge bath from Steeeeeeve Harrington, what a thing to wake up to.” Dammit.

“Maybe we should—" another man’s voice he didn’t recognise.

“Don’t even think about leave me alone with this.”

“Awww” that hand gently whapped his face, it didn’t hurt, just served to shut him up. Weird that it didn’t hurt though, he was pretty sure he’d been bitten on his face, a tap should hurt even if he was high.

“Don’t aww me, you did this shit to yourself. I told you, what the fuck did I tell you, Eddie? Don’t be a hero, don’t be a goddamn hero, and what do you do?” Steve angrily, yet still somehow gently, wiping the gunk away from his eyes as he spoke like some kind of vexed mother hen.

“…”

“That’s right, you got yourself ate. What. What REASON? What could you have POSSIBLY—”

“Would have gotten us both if I hadn’t. They came in… came in through the vents in my room… if I hadn’t—hadn’t drawn em out—Dustin was right there, man… they’d have come through the door. It was me or both of us. Shit—M’sorry Steve… is… is he okay? He hurt his ankle, was limping I think… is he—” oh hey light, everything coming back so quickly as his eyes were cleared up, the light was a lot, but not enough to detract from Steve’s face right there and— “Where’s all your hair gone? I swear you had it last time I saw you… Max! Where’s Max? Did—is she..?”

“Dustin’s fine. Max is fine. Doctors say they think she’s gonna wake up soon. Eddie… what do you remember?”

“…Most metal concert that the world never saw, evil bat tornado. Then… pretty sure I died. I mean. I did right? There’s no ifs or buts there, I kicked the bucket, hopped off this mortal coil, one with the wiiin—”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry. Uhm… yeah, not much, Harrington, sorry to say memories kinda end after death. Not that I was ever a believer of the pearly gates but—would have been nice to be proven wrong.” He remembered the void. Remembered every waking second of the void, but… with so many people around him, he wasn’t about to mention the void. “Why, should I be remembering something?”

“…No. No this… this is better. This is proof enough.” Steve turned to the soldiers in the room, right at the back where Eddie hadn’t looked. Not the police who looked cramped and uncomfortable. The soldiers standing rigid in the back, eyeing the bed and its occupant with suspicion. One standing in front of the others, stoic, his uniform adorned with the medals of rank. “You lot hear that? That’s proof enough, right?”

“…For now.” The one in front spoke “We’ll be keeping an eye on you all though, as a precaution.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, his expression one of pure hatred, one that looked so foreign on his face to Eddie, yet… it seemed so at home there now, it became it so easily. “You’d better believe we’ll be doing the same to you too, sir.” The soldiers left, the front man first, then the other two followed stiffly, and Steve relaxed, expression softening, he released a soft breath through his nose, then turned back to Eddie.

Eddie who found the silence that followed just suffocating enough to come to an unsurprising conclusion. Something that should have been obvious from the clues around him but yet he still had to ask about.

“…I wasn’t just out for a few days. Was I?”

Part 6

[sickficideas]

may i propose the idea of dazai crying until he throws up but Actually. do what u will with this information😭

hello anon, i greet you 11 months later...i am so sorry....and I have no idea if this was even a fic request or just a Hey. This Concept is Cool. and you're right so I wanted to write a fic about it and it took me 11 months. so. here you go Im so sorry LOL

just get up, get up || kunikidazai sickfic

ao3! 5.2k - please refer to the tags in the link for content + warnings! this one is a little heavy (past suicide attempt references, death mentions)

Kunikida is standing outside of Dazai's apartment, originally with a bone to pick with him for not showing up to the company dinner, but he’s long forgotten that. He's far too focused on the fact that he hears Dazai crying through the front door.

Dazai doesn’t cry.

Kunikida has the key to his apartment, as a precaution. He’s had it since the first time Dazai seriously attempted to kill himself, swallowing nearly forty pills from something he stole from Kunikida’s bathroom, that being the only reason Kunikida found him in time. He’s told Dazai he won’t disrespect his privacy unless he thought he had good reason to, and he thinks he has a good reason to do just that right here. He fumbles with his keys to find the one labeled Dazai.

Because Dazai does not cry for no reason.

He barges in, closing the door behind him but not bothering to even lock it properly before he runs to Dazai’s bedroom, where the sobs are coming from. Kunikida’s praying in his head on repeat that he isn’t in a life-threatening situation because that’s not a farfetched idea here, but he doesn’t quite get that feeling here.

Dazai is curled up in the corner of his nearly barren bedroom with the lights off, on his side, on the floor. Kunikida doesn’t see any signs of a suicide attempt, but that doesn’t mean much - just because he doesn’t see a noose or a pill bottle doesn’t mean he’s fine, and clearly, he’s not.

Kunikida can count at least five empty bottles of various types of alcohol on the floor.

“Dazai,” Kunikida starts, but he doesn’t detect any reaction from him, he’s just choking on sobs and sounding nearly unable to breathe, and Kunikida is contemplating calling Yosano. But he can’t do that. Dazai won't do any better with a doctor here, even one he’s familiar with.

Kunikida, for once, can't think of anything to help.

He's seen Dazai drunk before, but he doesn't think that's what's going on. Something else is causing this.

Kunikida kneels down in front of him, laying a hand over Dazai’s arm, covering his face for the most part. The bandages on his arms have long come loose, which tells him just how far off his mental state is right now.

Dazai’s face is red and his eyes are shot, a fact that Kunikida is only able to tell because of how Dazai looks up at him, brow furrowed and almost somehow begging Kunikida to make it stop. What exactly that is, he doesn’t know, but he can’t stand seeing Dazai like this. He needs to do something.

"Did you take something?" Kunikida asks as Dazai’s eyes drift away from him again. Kunikida’s forcing eye contact with a death grip on his arm. "Medications? Drugs?"

Dazai shakes his head just barely, and for some reason, Kunikida feels inclined to believe him. Kunikida is shocked Dazai is even listening to what he’s saying.

"Were you drinking?" Kunikida asks, even though the answer is obvious. Dazai barely nods before pulling his arm back over his face, trying to make himself smaller in some feeble attempt to tell Kunikida to leave, but he won’t even consider it.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, but Dazai doesn't answer. He cries out like he's in pain and his body twists, eyes screwed shut. Kunikida panics, he presses against Dazai's shoulder to lay him flat on the floor and check him over for injuries, but he sees nothing. No blood, no rips in his clothing, nothing. Dazai's eyes have relaxed, but they're still flooded with tears.

“Dazai,” Kunikida starts, not even sure what to follow up with. He feels dizzy. What does he even do here? He needs a plan. He needs to figure out how to help Dazai at least feel better enough temporarily so he's not choking on his sobs. “Let's get you to bed, come on.”

Kunikida scoops a hand under the shoulder that's against the ground to encourage Dazai to get off of the floor, at least, hoping that he can walk himself. Dazai's not crying as hard right now but it almost sounds like there's something else keeping his focus. He manages to get himself together enough to prop himself up, but Kunikida realizes too late that he looks nauseous all of a sudden, and the gag confirms his suspicion. The choking he was hearing were probably half-gags to begin with.

Dazai leans forward and chokes up a torrent of pale, watery vomit, just barely missing Kunikida's knee, but he's not to lucky the second time he gags, most of it splattering up the side of his thigh.

In any other circumstance, Kunikida would have certainly shouted at him. For drinking so much, for not being able to control himself, but he can't even bring himself to say anything, much less reprimand him. All he can do is make sure Dazai doesn't fall face forward in his own vomit.

His seemingly endless tears join in the vomit and drool that drips from his chin as he breathes heavily over the puddle, not able to keep himself up anymore. Kunikida doesn't want him to lay back down anymore -if he's not down throwing up, the last thing he needs is to choke on his own vomit, so he tries to at least prop him up.

He isn't finished, so it was a good call. He manages to avoid Kunikida this time, gagging and spitting up more of his stomach contents to add to this existing puddle, a hand pressed against his tummy.

He hasn't calmed down at all. His eyes look wild, as if throwing up has just made him feel a hundred times worse. Another thing that Kunikida can't do much about. He's so helpless, sitting right in front of him and watching him cry his eyes out without any idea what's going on.

Kunikida leans forward and holds him close, both arms wrapped around him in some kind of attempt to ground him.

“Dammit, Dazai,” Kunikida murmurs quietly. He’s completely and utterly heartbroken. Dazai was just suffering here. He wasn’t trying to end his life. He wasn’t hurting himself. He wasn’t even on anything, he just drank his sorrows away and sobbed for what must have been hours before Kunikida got here. “I'm going to stay with you tonight. Okay?”

He feels Dazai nod against his shoulder. That's a good sign, but he still shakes and sobs against him, like he wants to curl up and disappear in his arms.

That's fine with him, if the feeling helps. Kunikida will hold him as long as he needs him to.

He can't tell how long it's been once Dazai starts to breathe normally, but Kunikida takes the opportunity. He manages to move him over to his bed and under his covers. Dazai's eyes have glazed over. His lashes are still wet but he doesn't seem to be crying much more right now, and he's hoping he will at least be able to sleep for a few hours.

Kunikida tries to straighten things up, per his nature. He picks up all of the empty alcohol bottles and trash that litter his bedroom floor and brings them to the kitchen. He brings a trash bin beside Dazai's bed in case he needs to vomit again soon before he cleans the puddle in the corner. He feels nauseous himself, but he certainly won't make Dazai do the job right now. He wipes up the now-dried bits of vomit on his pants, and grabs another rag for Dazai's face.

He's almost asleep, finally. Kunikida wipes up his mouth and his chin. His face is warm, he lays a hand against his cheek to feel it. He's not worried about a fever, thinking it's probably just how much Dazai has worked himself up.

“I wish you would've called someone,” Kunikida says quietly.

He's glad he got to him before it got worse, at least.

…

The next morning, Kunikida opens the screen door to Dazai's porch. He should have done that last night. The entire dorm room reeks of alcohol and vomit, something he's only realizing with a taste of fresh air.

The rest of the night was easier than it could have been. Dazai somehow managed to sneak past Kunikida at some point, who had fallen asleep on the floor next to his bed, to puke in the bathroom for a few minutes. He would've fallen asleep there if Kunikida hadn't noticed and put him back to bed.

He groans, trying to stretch out the aches in his muscles from sleeping on the floor.

There's not a long list of people he would do that for.

When he wanders back into Dazai's bedroom, he sees him watching. On his side, head halfway engulfed by his pillow and looking at least seventy-five percent asleep, but he's awake.

"Hey," Kunikida says quietly.

"Hi,” Dazai croaks. The first coherent word he's spoken.

“I'll be right back. Just going to my dorm room for a moment,” Kunikida tells him. Dazai only nods. He wonders if maybe he shouldn't leave him alone, but it doesn't look as if Dazai has any energy at all to do something he shouldn't. “Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head, and lets his eyes fall shut. Kunikida feels relieved.

Thank god they have today off, too.

He disappears into his dorm for no longer than ten minutes to change clothes and do his morning routine - brush his teeth, wash his face. He thinks about showering but decides to put that off, not wanting to leave Dazai alone for longer than he needs to. He thinks Dazai would certainly benefit from a shower, too.

He makes it back soon enough to Dazai's bed room. The air feels much more fresh now, which will certainly do Dazai some good. He's turned around, now, the glass of water Kunikida had places beside him on the other side, but still full. Like he had tried to drink some, but decided not to. Kunikida wouldn't be surprised at all if he was still nauseous.

He needs to make him something to eat. Rice or soup would do him some good. Nauseous or not, he needs some substance in his stomach or else throwing up will be much more painful, and leave him feeling much worse - especially when he's pumped full of alcohol.

He turns to walk back into the kitchen, but Dazai's hoarse voice stops him before he can go any further.

"Sorry about last night. Kunikida," Dazai mumbles, his back still turned to him.

Kunikida doesn't think he's ever heard him sound that sincere about an apology before. It's genuine but dripping with guild all the same. It feels strange to hear. He almost wants to joke back.

"It's alright," Kunikida tells him, deciding now is not the time to be having any sort of conversation about it. He'll talk later, right now he just wants Dazai to feel normal. "I'll make you some food. You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry, ‘s okay,” Dazai replies quietly. He’s lowered his voice, like it hurts to keep it over a certain volume. Kunikida watched him shift like he wanted to move, but ultimately decide to sink back down.

"You still need to eat, Dazai. You threw up at least six times last night,” he says with a little sigh. “Just a little so that there's something in your stomach. It doesn't need to be right this second.”

Dazai has two packets of instant rice if he remembers correctly, and nothing else. Kunikida decides he'll go get groceries for him tomorrow. He's pretty certain those packets are left over from the last time he got groceries for him, too.

“I’ll eat later,” Dazai agrees begrudgingly, which Kunikida thinks is certainly better than the response he was expecting. “What’s the time?”

Finally, he turns so that he’s on his back. He tilts his head in Kunikida’s directly. He looks like he’s nearly on his deathbed - he’s so pale and looks exhausted.

“It’s almost nine in the morning,” Kunikida tells him.

“It feels like it’s five AM,” Dazai grumbles.

“Do you want to shower?” Kunikida asks. He’s trying to think of ways to get him out of bed. He doesn’t think wasting away in his dark room is any good for him, and he thinks a shower would certainly help him feel better.

“No,” he grumbles, glaring at Kunikida.

“Well, you should,” Kunikida says, leaning against the door frame.

Dazai groans like a child, turning away so his back faces Kunikida once again. This reaction, he should have expected.

“I'll help you,” Kunikida offers.

“Can it be a bath instead?” Dazai mumbles. Kunikida can hear the pout on his lips.

“Whatever will get you smelling better than a bar,” Kunikida says. He doesn’t care either way. “I’ll start it now, then. I’d really like if you had some water, I don’t need to you pass out on me.”

Dazai makes a vague noise in acknowledgment, but the way he pulls the sheets over his head tells him that he’s going to take advantage of his bed before he makes any plans to drink water.

Thankfully, Dazai doesn’t make the rest of it difficult for him. He doesn’t even argue about the bandages anymore.

Kunikida massages a second round of shampoo into his hair, with Dazai underwater from the shoulders down, quiet for the most part. The water is the perfect temperature and it’s certainly doing him some good, some color has started to come back to his face. He’s a little more quiet than Kunikida is comfortable with, though.

“Anything you usually do on Sundays?” Kunikida asks him, leaning Dazai’s head back just a bit before taking the pitcher of water to rinse the shampoo out.

"I usually…" Dazai mumbles, pausing like he’s not sure he wants to share. He keeps his eyes shut as Kunikida continues to rinse out the shampoo. "I go visit a friend."

"A friend?" Kunikida asks. He thinks most of the shampoo is out. There’s a bottle of conditioner that Kunikida put in here years ago that Dazai clearly never uses - he decides he’s going to do it now, while he has him here.

"Yeah," Dazai nods. He pauses again as Kunikida words the conditioner into his hair, but the silence must have encouraged him to say what’s on his mind. "Do you…can you come?"

Kunikida's surprised at this.

"I don’t have any plans today,” Kunikida says. Not entirely true. He has a Sunday routine, but he can make sure he gets to that in the evening, and just stay with Dazai this morning. “Does he live here? In Yokohama?”

“At the cemetery. By the Port.”

Kunikida almost replies, wondering which neighborhood that is exactly, but his stomach drops once he realizes what Dazai is saying.

Oh.

He's visiting a grave.

Somehow, all of this makes sense, now.

…

Kunikida lets Dazai take his time. Of course, he’s not going to rush him out of the dorm room to go see his friend’s headstone, but he’s moving much slower than normal this morning anyway. Kunikida dries his hair and gives him a change of clothes as he cooks some rice for him to eat, even if it’s only a few bites. He argues, hopes he’ll win, but Kunikida manages to get him to eat at least half of it.

“You go here every Sunday?” Kunikida asks him as they approach the cemetery, now within their sight. Dazai’s been relatively normal on the trip there. It was only a stop away on the train station and a few blocks of walking, but still, he seems much more like himself, he’s realizing now, though, that he was simply trying to distract himself.

“Every Sunday,” he confirms, the tone of his voice now changed. He sounds far away, living some past memory, but his voice holds the same texture of when he was trying his eyes out last night. Kunikida chews his lip.

He’s not sure how he never noticed this tradition of his, either, unless this death was recent. Dazai’s never around on Sundays but he’s never clear about his plans either. He’ll say anything from he’s getting a coffee to he’s planning on overthrowing the government, if he threw in a I’m visiting my dead friend, Kunikida would have thought nothing of it.

Atsushi’s mentioned finding him at a cemetery before, once, when Dazai failed to show up to an emergency meeting. But even then, Kunikida never thought he was there to visit someone.

Dazai slows down as they make it to the entrance, and Kunikida makes it further ahead of him before he realizes he’s stopped. He’s turned away from the direction of the sea, almost looking like he’s holding his breath. Kunikida decides if he should ask him if they should turn around before Dazai brings a hand up to his mouth.

"Dazai, are you - " Kunikida starts, but Dazai is already bent over with a hand on his stomach, throwing up onto the sidewalk before Kunikida can finish his question. “Shit.”

Kunikida curses, laying a hand on Dazai's back. Dazai probably assumed the rice would come right back up anyway, that’s no doubt why he was refusing to eat, but Kunikida wonders if it has something to do with the nerves of where they are right now. But certainly, he wouldn’t react like this every Sunday?

“I’m fine,” Dazai breathes out, spitting up the rest of what’s in his mouth into the small puddle at his feet. It’s not much, but he didn’t have near anything in his stomach to begin with. He looks even worse, now. Kunikida wants him to sit down and drink some damn water.

Kunikida keeps his hand on Dazai’s back as he straightens up and tries to take in a steady breath. Kunikida is almost certain he’s going to throw up again, but he manages to pull himself together enough to continue on to the cemetery gates.

Dazai snakes his hand into Kunikida’s and squeezes it, hard. Kunikida squeezes it back as Dazai leads him to a gravestone, right underneath the tree on the far side of the cemetery.

S. Oda.

Reading the same sends a chill up his spine and he can’t explain why. Kunikida's never heard Dazai mention this person before, not even unnamed. A friend. Dazai doesn't seem like the type to have friends at all, not outside of work.

Whoever he was, he must have been very important to Dazai, to affect him like this.

And the longer Kunikida stands there beside Dazai and stares, the faster he starts to realize that the date of death on the headstone was yesterday's date.

"You should've said something," Kunikida sighs quietly as Dazai slips his hand out of Kunikida’s grip.

"I have a friend who I've never told you about who died in my arms four years ago yesterday. There," Dazai says. It's incredibly nonchalant, something he's trying to pass off as a joke, but Kunikida can hear the pain in his voice. He can feel it.

It must have been an awful death, to break down Dazai like that.

Dazai kneels right in front of the headstone and lays his forehead against the cold marble. He chokes back a sob, evidently, completely incapable of holding himself together. It hurts him so much. He can’t fathom what could have happened. Dazai’s completely broken by this.

Kunikida can't just sit there and watch. He kneels beside him, a little further back. He wants to lay a hand on his shoulder, but he hesitates, and takes his hand again to squeeze it hard instead.

“I'm sorry,” Dazai mumbles quietly, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his hand. “I think…he would've loved working at the Agency.”

“You think so?” Kunikida asks. Four years ago would have been someone in the Port Mafia with Dazai, Kunikida is fairly certain.

“He would've…he would've deserved it more than I do, Kunikida,” Dazai tells him, a few teardrops landing in the earth right in front of the headstone. He’s getting that look in his eyes again, like he’s somewhere else.

Kunikida bites his lip. “Don't say things like that, Dazai.”

“Maybe…maybe if he found him instead of me, then…then they both would've…” Dazai murmurs, and Kunikida starts to worry, because he's not making much sense. He’s not sure who he’s talking about. “but then Atsushi…what about…”

“Hey,” Kunikida starts, squeezing his hand a little tighter, “I don't know what happened to your friend, but no matter how things ended for him, there's nothing you can do to change the past.”

Dazai’s shoulders tense up. Kunikida worries he's having the opposite of the desired effect, but there’s nothing he can do to guess what Dazai could possibly be thinking. 

Dazai lifts his head off of the stone, a little too quickly, it seems, because his whole body slumps forward and he smacks his forehead into it before Kunikida can stop him. He holds his shoulders to move him off the stone and he seems to have come back to him already. Kunikida steadies him and makes sure he gets a good look at his face. He still looks dizzy. "You're dehydrated."

"Mm," Dazai huffs. He doesn't seem to care. He rubs the part of his forehead that smacked against the stone and groans.

"Let's take you to Yosano,” Kunikida insists, taking Dazai’s hand and helping him off the ground. He’s really concerned. All of this is very out of the ordinary for him. He wants to take him somewhere he can rest for a few hours, at least.

"I'm okay, Kunikida,” Dazai mumbles, his eyes still pointed down at the headstone. He’s not crying anymore, but he's certainly not all there.

"Like hell you are, Dazai," he huffs, reaching out to lay a hand under his chin and point his face up to look at Kunikida. He looks like a sad, wet cat. "She could get some fluids in you, at least."

"I don't like needles," he murmurs. His eyes drop back down to the ground.

“I know you don’t, but you just fainted because you’re so dehydrated. And I don’t think you have any interest in drinking water right now,” Kunikida says with a deep sigh. Dazai doesn’t argue, but he leans forward to lay his forehead on Kunikida’s shoulder.

Kunikida holds him, one arm around his back and the other on his head, for as long as Dazai needs him to. He knows a lot of what Dazai shows him on a regular basis is a front, a disguise, he’s learned that after many years of working with him - but to see it completely torn down like this breaks his heart.

After a while, Kunikida leads him out of the cemetery. Dazai doesn’t object. He keeps his arm around Kunikida, his eyes on the ground in front of him, not lifting his head. Kunikida lets him. He plans to walk the two of them to the Agency, which isn’t more than a fifteen-minute walk. He knows Yosano is there today, even though it’s closed - it’s when she catches up. He can at least have her look him over.

The Motomachi shopping structure starts to come into view as Dazai starts to lift his head a little and slip his arm out of Kunikida’s. There’s more people around here now, and he can already see Dazai start to mask on, even around people he doesn’t know, people he’ll never meet.

Kunikida feels Dazai’s hand slip out of his grip, and he worries for a moment before he hears a voice coming from behind them.

"Dazai? Kunikida?"

It's Atsushi, Kunikida realizes upon turning around. 

"What're you guys doing here?" Atsushi asks. He’s by himself, it looks like.

"Work," Kunikida answers simply, trying to avoid any tough conversation for Dazai. He doesn’t think Atsushi will ask any questions beyond that. "And you? Are you by yourself?"

"Kyoka's in the bakery over there. But I saw you guys from the window and wanted to say hi," Atsushi says, but the smile on his face fades as soon as his eyes peer over to Dazai, who, no matter how much he's trying to fake it, still looks miserable. "Are…you okay, Dazai?"

"Oh, I'm fine. You know. Hungover," he jokes, but he still doesn’t sound like himself, no matter how hard he’s trying. Kunikida supposes the hangover bit might be partially true.

"You really should stop drinking so much," Atsushi scolds. Kunikida mirrors that sentiment, mentally, but he thinks Dazai probably has a much bigger problem than they can address with scolding.

"Mmm…maybe you're right," Dazai says, but it's impossible to tell if he's going to take that to heart or not. Kunikida is going to guess, likely not.

"Me and Kyoka were going to try out this new tea house. It’s like, a block over," Atsushi tells them, gesturing in the general direction. "Would you guys wanna come?"

"Hm. We're pretty busy with work," Kunikida lies, but he's trying to give Dazai an out in case he needs one. "Dazai?"

"We should go. Tea's good," he says simply with a shy-looking smile.

Kunikida's heart melts. Atsushi looks a little suspicious. Certainly, Kunikida would never let Dazai decide if they were going to work or not. Maybe he’s not covering their tracks as good as he thinks they are.

"Alright. We'll come."

"Why are you guys working, anyway? We're closed today," Atsushi says, turning around and leading them towards the bakery down the street, where Kyoka is, presumably.

“Just something the president asked us to take on,” Kunikida explains. “Classified, though.”

“Uh-huh…”

He’s not buying it, but he doesn’t press on. Kunikida’s relieved.

Once they meet Kyoka, the tea house isn’t far at all, and in the direction of the Agency anyway. Kunikida still plans to take Dazai to Yosano afterwards, but he thinks this is a good idea. Tea would definitely do him some good, if he’s willing to drink it.

He doesn’t last long at all, though. He only takes a few sips of what Kunikida had ordered, claiming he would decide from there, before he sneaks off to the bathroom. Kunikida say the nausea on his face, though, that green tinge, his hand over his stomach. He can’t keep anything down right now. He really needs to see Yosano.

“Do you think he’s sick, Kunikida?” Atsushi asks, concern written all over his face. He knows something’s going on.

“He might be. I need Yosano to take a look at him,” he says with a shaky sigh, already having finished sending her a text that they would be on their way over very soon. He’ll flag down a taxi to get them there. It’s not far, but he doesn’t think Dazai should be doing any more activity than he needs to.

When Dazai comes back, looking even worse than before with three concerned faces staring at him, his shoulders sink. Kunikida thinks that he can’t possibly believe he wouldn’t get caught.

“I’ll meet you guys there after we pay,” Atsushi tells them, and Kunikida thanks him. He’ll send him money to cover the bill later. He takes Dazai by the arm and leads him outside. He’s hoping he can get him feeling a little better soon.

…

Atsushi gets to the agency about an hour later, so worried about Dazai that his stomach hurts because of it. Something’s not right, he could tell that as soon as he saw the two of them in the street. Sure, he’s certainly sick with something, but he’s too quiet. He looks sad. That’s just not something he ever sees on Dazai’s face.

He makes it up to the Agency floor. Kyoka decided to go back to the dorms, so it’s just him, and no one but Yosano, Kunikida or Dazai should be in the office. The door to the infirmary is open, but he hears something coming from the office couch.

Dazai sounds like he's gagging again.

He carefully wanders over, not seeing any sign of Yosano behind the partition, it’s just Kunikida and Dazai - he’s curled up on the couch, his arm attached to a fluid line. Kunikida is in the middle of laying a blanket over him and holding a trash bin under his chin. Atsushi wonders why Dazai isn’t in the infirmary instead, but he does like this couch. Maybe he’s just more comfortable here.

Atsushi knows something must be wrong with him if Kunikida of all people is being so kind and gentle with him. Laying a blanket over him just can't be something he'd do for no reason.

Dazai spits up something into the bin before Kunikida lowers the bin. He groans and curls up in on himself again. He doesn't look good at all. Atsushi isn't sure if he's sick or not, but even if he is, it's concerning.

"He's having a hard time today, Atsushi. Don’t bother him too much," Kunikida says sternly, quietly, before he disappears into he infirmary. He hears him and Yosano faintly chattering about something, but the sound is lost on him as he focuses on Dazai’s miserable form.

Atsushi sits on the couch opposite of Dazai for a minute, watching him. Dazai knows he’s there, but he doesn’t look up. His eyes are on the floor. His breathing looks off, like it’s a conscious effort every time. He’s pale and he looks terribly nauseous. Atsushi feels guilty. He wouldn’t have offered for them to come if he knew he stomach was bothering him this much.

"Are you okay, Dazai?" he asks meekly, even though he knows the answer. It's a stupid question to ask, really. Dazai’s eyes finally dart up to meet Atsushi’s.

"I'm always okay," he says. The most non-answer possible.

“You don’t look okay,” Atsushi tells him with a little pout. He’s seen Dazai hungover before, it’s never, ever this bad. The worst it does it make him complain and give him a headache.

Dazai sighs quietly. "Just…missing a friend."

"A friend?" Atsushi asks, scooting up a little further. Dazai doesn’t ever talk about friends. "Why don't you go see them?"

"I saw him this morning."

Atsushi’s heart sinks as he puts all of the pieces together. He’s seen Dazai’s friend before, too. He and Kunikida were coming from that direction before Atsushi met them today. “Your friend in the cemetery?”

Dazai nods slowly.

“I'm sorry, Dazai,” Atsushi says quietly. Dazai shifts his body so that he’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “He must’ve been really important to you.”

"He's the reason I left the Port Mafia," Dazai says gently. “I wouldn’t…be here without him.”

Atsushi gives him a halfway smile. It’s not often that Dazai ever opens up about anything. Maybe it’s how he’s feeling, maybe he’s just deep enough in his thoughts to let his guard down, but Atsushi’s thankful that he’s shared that with him.

“I’m glad you knew him, then. Even if…even if you wished you knew him longer. He changed your life, right?” Atsushi says. He can’t part much wisdom to Dazai, someone who seems to know everything, but Dazai turns his head to look at Atsushi. It’s a warm expression on his face. Atsushi can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.

“Right, Atsushi.”

[jmflowers]

Still taking prompts? Carina feeling emotional over Maya learning/knowing Italian.

You got it, dude. Canon-compliant for your reading pleasure.

~~~

Ding!

Carina smiles as she steps through the front door, the smell of dinner on the stove wafting down the hallway to greet her.

They’ve been in their new home all of three weeks and already they’ve fallen into a symbiotic routine – one she finds herself endlessly enamoured by. A warm meal waiting for whoever’s last to arrive home, a load of laundry in the dryer before bed each night, swapping shifts to rise when Liam cries out at 2am to be fed.

There’s balance forming, now that they’re here. Balance and love and support that seemed so far away, so farfetched, just a year ago.

“I’m back!” she calls out as she wanders into the kitchen, heavy grocery bags dangling from her hands. She can’t wait until they renovate this space; can’t wait until there’s more room on the counters and in the pantry for all the things she has to keep slipping out to buy.

Mela, a slightly robotic voice says.

Carina frowns, turning towards the sound, groceries piled half on the counter and half in the sink. She lets them tumble from her grasp, traipsing down the hallway after yet another Ding! echoes from the nursery.

Arancia, the robotic voice says.

“Arancia,” Maya repeats, her voice so whisper soft Carina barely hears it. “That’s an orange.”

Ding!

She’s leaned back in the plush rocking chair they’d settled on for the nursery, Liam curled in her lap with his eyelids fluttering as he tries desperately to pay attention to the phone she holds in front of them.

Elefante, the robotic voice inside the screen says next.

“Elefante,” Maya replicates, lips pressed to the side of Liam’s cap-covered head. “You know elephant.”

Ding! the phone chirps.

“Oh, you know this one, too,” Maya whispers, smiling softly. “Mamma says buona notte every night before we go to sleep.”

“Sì,” Carina murmurs, stumbling into the gravity that’s dragging her across the room towards them. “Buona notte means good night.”

Maya nods, turning just enough for Liam and his heavy eyelids to catch a glimpse of Carina as she leans over the arm of the chair to kiss his cheeks. “And ciao is hello.”

His little face splits into a grin, reaching for his mamma even as he fights a losing battle with sleep. “Ah,” he chirps.

“I got a few lessons ahead of him,” Maya explains, setting her phone aside on the dresser. She tips Liam backwards in her arms, laying his head in the crook of her elbow with a practiced ease. He gazes up at her with a toothless smile, nearly giving in to the weight of his eyelids. “So, we had to go back and review what he missed.”

“Ah,” Liam repeats.

“Sì,” Maya nods, looking down at their baby boy with a ferocity of love that causes a clench of something deep and primal and unquantifiable in Carina’s chest. “Apple is mela. That’s your favourite, I know.”

One of those tiny, perfect fists finds its way into Liam’s mouth and then, finally, he loses the fight. Finally, his eyes close and he tumbles into sleep.

And that feeling in Carina’s chest seems to explode.

She leans forward, reaching for Maya with a desperation she can’t quite explain. Tugging, needy, until their lips connect. Until she can try to convey with her body what she doesn’t have English words for.

Ti amo. Ho bisogno di te. Sono così perdutamente innamorato di te.

Maya won’t understand them all – not yet.

But she will. One day, she will.

[sirianasims]

A few days later I made my way to GeekCon, feeling excited.

For one weekend every summer, the famous Casbah Gallery was completely transformed and filled with cosplayers, merch stalls, and a plethora of geeks.

I had never been able to attend in person, Copperdale was too far away, and the online pass just wasn’t the same.

The gallery shop, normally selling tickets and art prints, was now filled with comics and collectibles, snacks and toys. It was honestly a little overwhelming.

I decided to start from the beginning and looked at the MySims display. I had quite a few already, but I really wanted Violet. She was a little expensive though.

I went through my budget in my head and decided that she would be my reward when I hit 50,000 subscribers. Then I moved on to the Voidcritters.

Everyone knew Voidcritters, but it always felt a bit too much like a children’s game for me. Still, I did occasionally stream myself playing video games, and it might be nice to throw in something more casual – although few Voidcritter fans had anything resembling a casual relationship with the game.

Either way, it could get me some new viewers.

My train of thought was derailed by a guy next to me clearing his throat.

“Hi… uh, are you Jules? From DesignedByJules?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I knew I recognised you! Sorry, I’m Marten, I’ve followed you for years -“

He stopped abruptly.

“OK, it sounds super creepy when I say it like that, but I do follow your channel. Do you play Voidcritters? I’ve never seen it on your streams.”

“I’m considering it.”

His eyes lit up.

“Who are you gonna main? Please don’t say Vulpes, newbies always pick Vulpes just because it’s one of the main characters.”

“Actually, I…”

“You should go for the Earth types, everyone thinks Void is special but Earth is actually stronger if you know what you’re doing.”

“Actually, I was considering Wind. I kinda like Meduso.”

Marten wrinkled his nose.

“Wind is kinda finicky though. If you’re starting with a Common critter, you should try Nymphaea.”

He gestured to one of the decals on the wall.

“If Nymphaeas are in danger, they produce these fungal spores that invade animal hosts so they can propagate the species in a safer environment. In episode 19 there was a bunch of Nymphaea that took over a flower shop and started reproducing like crazy and Leif had to free his friends from their hypnotising pollen and relocate them to a remote nature preserve – the Nymphaea, that is, not his friends.”

“I see.”

I started moving through the shop and Marten followed, still talking at breakneck speeds as if determined to impress me. It was actually a little adorable.

“And you know how Vulpes is based on a fox and Suintor is a pig and such? Some of the fans actually believe that Nymphaeas are based on a real thing.”

“Except water lilies usually don’t have hypnotising pollen.”

“No, but what if something did? I saw this discussion on one of the fan forums once where someone claimed to have heard that there was a rare flower on Sixam that did something like that.”

“It sounds a little farfetched to me. I mean, most super powers are just made up, right?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I guess we’ll never know where they got the idea from, none of the original creators of the show are still alive and there has been no communication with Sixam for decades. Maybe Sixam was never even real. They could have faked it all.”

I thought of the old pictures of a little blue boy in grandpa Eric’s house.

“No, Sixam is definitely real. My great-grandma went there.”

Marten didn’t seem convinced but dropped the subject. 

beginning / previous / next

[classtrialguru]

Hu is the original attempted murderer Theory

So I want to start with the mechanism that almost ended Ace's life. Well we already know that the mechanism acquires the wire to be wrapped around one's neck and we know that the fan that had the wire taped to it had to be turned on to raise the person being murdered. Now when I was looking at the way it was supposed to be set up before it got botched and I realized something. Tension! The way of how the wire can work is the tension of Ace's body weight being hugged by the fan. Then after realizing that I came up with a thought. "This seems really familiar to how you would string up an instrument."

And this was my smoking gun! So the chain of events I think happened went like this.

Scene one

It was the middle of day two when Ace and Nico started fighting again, but Ace was going to take it too far this time. He was going to expose Nico's secret. Backed up in a corner with a feeling of desperation Nico threatened Ace's life to just scare him off. Things escalated though when Hu came in and smacked Ace across the face. With feelings of rage and sympathy to a victim that didn't do anything to elicit such aggressive bullying and all in all one big thorn in the group that if left unattended would leave the whole group unravelled. She had to do something, she had to do something quick no matter the consequence.

Scene two

It has been almost a whole day and Hu had a plan to get rid of Ace. She had the weapon of choice which was her wire, She steeled her resolve not actually taking Ace's life, all she needed was a way to make sure that he didn't struggle when she put him in the mechanism. Now I know this is going to sound a little farfetched believe me when I say that it is very out there, but Hu needed something to knock Ace out which is definitely Rose's tuberpine, now comes the unbelievable part and her name is Eden Tobisa. Thanks to thebadjoe for the idea that Eden was the one to swipe the tuberpine the day before for her own murder scheme. Now we know that both Hu and Eden clean the dishes after the meals so they would be kinda close to each other and both are trying to get the group to work together and fight against the killing game. So maybe Eden lets Hu use the tuberpine for her murder plan, because she had a glimmer of hope that she didn't have to kill Arei, she didn't need to kill her new friends that saved her from being killed.Eden became an accomplice. Both couldn't out the ones plan without the other outing them.

Scene 3

With two people in on the plan it was fool proof. Eden would act as the lookout and Hu would wait in the gym waiting for Ace. She brought two things to commit murder, a broom to prop Ace up and a step stool to reach the upper side of the fan. When Ace came into the gym, Hu came from behind and used the tuberpine on him. After Ace was knocked out the only thing she had to do was tape the one end of the wire to the top side of the fan and wrap the other end around Ace's neck. With a flip of a switch the fan was turned on, tightening the wire around Ace's neck. While Eden was distracting Teruko in the dressing room Hu made her get away, but she wasn't aware of one person on the floor.

Scene four

After feeding the fish Nico was coming out of the relaxation room when they noticed something off. It was Hu going into the elevator, "Huh why would Hu be on this floor at this hour?" Nico decided to go and investigate. When they looked in the gym the first thing they saw was Ace being choked by the wire. They panickely tried to find a way to get Ace down. They turned off the fans, but that wasn't enough. They would try to take the wire off of Ace's neck, but it was to taunt. Using the broom and step stool that Hu brought in the Gym Nico swatted at the fan till it broke off the ceiling. Nico went to prop Ace on the wall and started to take off the wire wrapped around his neck when Teruko and Eden came into the gym to investigate the noise of the fallen fan.

Scene five

A million thoughts were rushing around their head. "Why would Hu do this?" "What do I do now?" "Could this have been avoided if I just stood up for myself?!" "How can I explain this?" They couldn't explain what looked like a murder attempt that was done by them. They panicked and ran away. They knew that Hu was the one that tried to kill Ace but who would believe him, they were the one caught with the wire in hand.Back in the gym Teruko and Eden started to investigate when Ace woke up. Just because he was knocked out doesn't mean he couldn't hear anything and multiple people were saying Nico's name. Ace connected that and the death threat that Nico told him earlier in the day and jumped to the conclusion that Nico tried to kill him. He was furious and he wanted to get back at them.

Scene six

It was the next day and Hu gave Eden the tuberpine back. Eden told Hu what happened after she left the second floor and Hu felt guilty. When Ace came in to get on Nico about how he was a killer, Hu was quick to jump in and defend Nico, because she knew that they weren't the one trying to take Ace's life. She felt so guilty about dragging the very person that she was trying to stand up for the day before into this mess.

Conclusion

So that's how everything played down. I think more of what happened will be revealed in chapter three and I can't wait for what happens next. If anyone wants to add anything feel free to do so.

[hozaloza]

Logan thing I literally noticed by accident

Okay-- so,

We all know Logan's parents are out of the picture.

It's pretty obvious.

So, I'm now gonna talk about something completely different but it's still relevant to Logan.

So... you notice how their noses are literally the same in shape? Also, their skin tones are EXTREMELY close to one another. One last thing to note is that the eye shape is also pretty similar. (Note that the hair color may not be the same, since it's likely Ryan has black hair due to his eyebrow color... But parents with blonde or brown hair can have a kid with black hair, as long as both parents have the recessive gene, or someone in the family had the gene.)

This is pretty farfetched, but I honestly like the idea of Ryan being Logan's dad already, so now that I accidently made this connection while swooning over Ben's dad just makes my stupid lil au even truer.

Although, it's too farfetched for him to be his dad, so I'm making the safe bet that he's just related to Logan, like perhaps an uncle. It could explain why he doesn't really say anything about Logan, or there wasn't any hint that he was his dad. It could be that he left his family a little after Logan was born, so he would never know how he looked like after some time passed.

(fast pass spoilers here!) He also probably doesn't know the names of the kids (obv), so he won't realize Logan is his nephew for a bit until someone mentions his full name around him, and he's like "Hol' up-- That sounds like the name my sibling gave to their kid--" He also wouldn't care for the parents either, therefore he doesn't know his mom and dad are being kept here. Once he realizes that Logan's his nephew, he'll realize his parents are here. Because if the parents got kidnapped as well, Logan's guardians would also be here.

(end of fast pass spoilers)

Now, let's circle back to the first thing I talked about.

I may have an idea on what could've happened to Logan's parents because of the Ryan thing...

Since I was looking for pictures of the grandparents in all s2 episodes, I happened to be reading over the dialogue. When I read this at first, I was like "hm, great words spoken by James." Then I realized, "...WAIT-- WHAT IF THIS WAS THEM SELF-REFLECTING ON THEIR OWN MISTAKE WITH THEIR OWN KID--" And yeah, that's how I came up with this dumb little theory:

What if by possibility, Logan's parents were in danger, and whoever was the child of Mary and Jame's tried telling them about it, but they didn't believe them. So, trying to keep Logan safe (he was just a few months old at the time), they left him at their parents house, lying about needing to run some quick errands with their spouse, and never returned, possibly dead. Mary and Jame's heavily grieve the lost of their child. They already had one run off (Ryan left them after Logan was born, there was a huge fight about his alcoholism problem), and now their second child was missing, possibly dead.

They raised Logan as a sort of apology to their own child. And because of the trauma, they were really protective of Logan.

Now, this could also explain why Mary and Jame's were the first to believe the kids. The situation reminded them of their own kid, and they realized that there could be a chance the gang was in danger, obvious evidence being Tyler. So, to make sure the other parents didn't make the same mistake they made, they stepped up and encouraged the other parents to believe the gang.

Again, this all could be pretty far-fetched, but there's always the chance of it being right. (I also realized Ryan may have seen Mary and James, but never hinted at saying they were his parents, but then again maybe it's either too soon to reveal that, or he couldn't exactly notice since it was likely from a distance.)

That's all I have for now. Bye bye 🧖

[reki-of-the-valley]

Through the Seasons

Read it here on ao3!

1 - Spring

Reki chews on the inside of his cheek as he watches Langa. His head is resting against Reki’s shoulder, blue hair tickling Reki’s cheek with every slight movement of his. And with every tickle, Reki finds himself staring, staring longer than what must be considered bro-appropriate. Until now, he’s never stared at one of his friends the way he was staring at Langa. Until now, he had never felt the urge to just stare, take in everything that is Langa, Langa who is prettier than any boy he’s ever seen. Prettier than girls too! Langa who is just… the prettiest.

Reki tears his eyes away, forcing himself to concentrate on the phone that’s propped up in front of him. He forces himself to look at the screen, but he can’t help the flickering of his eyes to the side, the quick glances at this best friend quite literally pressed to his side. Just quick glances; they don’t linger. And it’s only when Langa moves, snuggling closer. It’s only when Langa seems to be demanding his attention. Because there’s no way this isn’t on purpose. There’s no way Langa doesn’t know his every little movement has Reki staring. Or maybe it’s just a Canadian thing, the snuggling. Reki’s heard that they’re very friendly and affectionate there. He’s heard that cuddling is a great way to keep warm during the long and cold Canadian winters.

If someone were to ask Reki what was playing on Langa’s phone, he wouldn’t know what to answer. He’d probably just laugh nervously and answer “skateboarding,” more of a question than an answer. It wouldn’t be that farfetched of an answer, but he hasn’t been paying attention. Even when he forces his eyes away from the boy cuddled up against him in bed, thoughts of him fill Reki. Thoughts that make his heart race, face flushing. Thoughts that are not things one should associate with their best friend. Thoughts he didn’t exactly think were appropriate to share with the world.

Slowly, carefully, Reki lets his body soften against Langa’s. It’s a step-by-step process, the careful melting against Langa. It’s slow and deliberate, the straightness of his back slowly melting into a slouch. It’s careful and planned out, the pressing of his own head against Langa’s. Everything is calculated as if he’s testing the waters. That’s what he’s doing after all; he’s making sure that he’s not being weird and that he’s allowed to be as comfortable as Langa seems to be.

Muffled, indiscernible sounds leak out of Langa’s phone, but Reki can’t bring himself to focus on them. Even the screen itself seems blurry and distant. It’s not his fault; his eyes just can’t help going back to Langa. How is he supposed to focus on anything other than the prettiest boy he’s ever seen who’s now definitely cuddled up against him? How is he supposed to focus on anything other than the hand that’s innocently resting against his knee? How is he supposed to look at anything other than that silky blue hair that tickles his cheek, and those ocean eyes that seem filled with a sleepy haze? How is he supposed to pay attention to anything other than Langa?

The mattress shifts under the weight of the two boys, Langa burying himself even deeper into Reki’s side. And as his nose digs itself into Reki’s shoulder, Reki can’t help the hitch in his breath. He’s never had someone this close, not even the twins as they snuggle and fall asleep on him. He’s never had someone this vulnerable against him, someone who trusts him as wholeheartedly as Langa does. And the soft touch of the tip of Langa’s cold nose, it sends a shiver down Reki’s spine.

“Reki?”

His voice is faint, muffled against the thin cotton of Reki’s t-shirt. It’s smaller than it’s ever been, barely above a soft whisper. But it’s there and it’s heavy as Langa slowly lifts his head. Reki wishes Langa had stayed in the crook of his neck, but seeing the blue of Langa’s eyes sparkle under the dim light of the room, Reki can’t help the smile that blossoms across his lips. He can’t help smiling when Langa is there, looking at him. Who wouldn’t want to be looked at by Langa? A crazy person, for sure.

“Reki, I…”

His nose dives back into Reki’s shoulder. Maybe Reki hallucinated, but he could’ve sworn he saw a pink tint bloom across Langa’s cheeks. What could possibly have him that embarrassed? What could—?

The touch leaves sparks under Reki’s skin; the arms wrapping around his waist create an eruption of butterflies in his stomach. And the tilt of Langa’s head, the feeling of his nose, of his lips against the soft skin of his neck, lightness hazes Reki’s mind. Everything is wrong, everything is right. Nothing makes sense, everything is crystal clear. The world moves slowly, the moment goes fast. One shift and nothing can ever be the same again.

Reki isn’t sure in which order everything happened. He knows it started with one of Langa’s whispers, his small voice ever so slightly coated with an English accent. Then there were the touches, the hug that was so different from their typical hugs. Reki wouldn’t be able to name the difference now, but it was there. There was something more tender in the embrace, something filled with wanting. It wasn’t just one of those excited, impulsive hugs they would spring on one another. This was a deliberate touch, one filled with need, with want. Langa wanted to be there. Langa wants to be there, in the small of Reki’s neck, pressed against his side, almost falling over him. Langa wants to be this close and Reki doesn’t want him to go. He wants Langa there. He wants Langa there for as long as he can have him.

Then there was the lift of Langa’s head. Or maybe first there had been the turn of Reki’s. He isn’t sure which came first. He isn’t sure of much after that first shift, actually. But what he is sure of is the color of Langa’s eyes, the way they seemed to twinkle. All he knows is that this is Langa, his best friend, the prettiest boy he’s ever seen. All he knows is that everything is on autopilot. All he knows is that his eyes fall shut as soon as he feels Langa’s breath on his lips. All he knows is that whatever happens next, he wants it. He wants it all. He wants Langa. He wants Langa and nothing can ruin this for him.

It's hesitant at first, the soft touch of Langa’s lips against his own. It feels like more like a question than anything, but it isn’t long before the question finds its answer. It isn’t long before the soft touch turns into something more. It isn’t long before they find their rhythm, Langa’s fingers digging into Reki’s hips, holding on for dear life. It isn’t long that what could’ve been an innocent peck turns into something more desperate. It isn’t long before the whole world has been forgotten, or maybe it’s just that Reki and Langa have become each other’s worlds in a matter of seconds. Nothing else matters at the moment, nothing but warm breaths and rushed kisses. Nothing but the fading taste of the sweets they had had early in the day. Nothing but silky hair slipping through Reki’s fingers. Nothing matters, nothing except Langa. Nothing except Langa’s kisses. Nothing but the desperation that comes with the thought of losing Langa’s kisses. Nothing but the thought that this is the only time he’ll get to know what it feels like to be kissing Langa. Langa, the prettiest boy Reki’s ever laid eyes on.

Reki’s lost count of the number of kisses he’s laid on Langa. He’s lost his string of thoughts, his initially detailed plan of how things would go the day he would get to press his first kiss to someone. None of this is following the way he thought it would go, starting with the fact that he just kissed Langa and not some girl like he thought he would. But now with the entirety of his weight pressed into Langa’s lap, his hands tangled in the softest hair he’s ever had the privilege of touching, Reki couldn’t care less of his initial plan. This, this reality, it’s so much better than any of those fantasies he had come up with over the years. Kissing Langa is so much better than anything he could have dreamt up.

“Reki?”

It’s the softest Reki’s ever hear his name be said. A breathless whisper against his lips, a whisper he’ll be dreaming about for far too long. A whisper filled with adoration. A whisper he may never hear again. A whisper that may be Langa’s way of telling him that this was all a mistake. A whisper that might be the end of everything. A whisper that may as well be—

“Reki, I—”

“I’m sorry!” The words tumble out of Reki’s mouth before he can even process what he’s saying. “I wasn’t thinking and I just— I don’t know what I was thinking or maybe I wasn’t even thinking at all? I just… I shouldn’t have… I didn’t actually… It’s probably like… weird? Like,” nervous laughter falls from his lips as his heart races in his chest. “It’s totally weird, right? Bros don’t… bros don’t like… do what just happened, right? We can’t…”

“I like kissing you, Reki.”

Silence crashes down, an invisible weight pressing on Reki’s chest. Langa… Langa, he likes the kisses. He liked whatever just happened between them. He enjoyed the moment that just passed, one that Reki also enjoyed, if he ignores the wave of panic that overwhelmed him. He doesn’t hate Reki for the stolen kisses, the kisses that probably had no business being stolen in the first place. The smart thing probably would have been to ignore the pounding of his heart and the pull Langa’s lips had on him, but it’s too late to regret everything. Not that Reki regrets any of it! Absolutely not! Not when it’s Langa over and over again.

“Y’know, Reki…” This time, Reki can’t miss the blush that blossoms under Langa’s skin. He can’t miss the boy’s averting eyes and the pinkness that sticks out from under his hair. This time, Reki is certain that Langa is blushing and he can’t help but feel the heat in his own face as he stares at Langa, waiting for the rest of his thoughts. “You don’t have to… stop or anything? If you want, we can…”

“I think I like you.”

Reki’s hands couldn’t have flown to his face any faster than they do right then and there, clasping them right over the words that he hadn’t meant to blurt out. While they weren’t a lie, was now the best time to say it? Really, did this have to be all so confusing? Why does everything have to be so freaking confusing!

“I like you too!”

I like you too; truer words had never been uttered. Or at least, Reki sure hopes they hold some truth since they have his heart racing and they have him grinning like an absolute fool. Because if Langa likes him, like likes him, then what is there to be afraid? The scariest part of falling for his best friend was that it might have come with the price of their friendship, but now that Langa is here, smiling that sweet and soft smile, eyes crinkling at the corner, Reki isn’t afraid anymore. He isn’t scared as he lets his body crash against Langa’s, arms wrapping around his neck in the tightest hug he’s ever given his best friend. And as Langa’s arms loops around his waist, everything clicks. This is right. This moment, it couldn’t get any better. Nothing could take Reki’s happiness away. Nothing could take Langa away from him. Because this is right. Because this is Reki and Langa, best of friends, best of everything. Two halves of a whole.

“I like you too, man. I like you so much, Langa. And you mean everything to me.”  

[psychoticallytrans]

Hi! So I’ve been reading about psychosis, and I’m a little confused about what disorganised thoughts means? I was wondering if you possibly had any examples of what that might be like? All the examples I could find in my research seemed like perfectly normal thoughts to me so I’m not really sure what the difference is

I'm not precisely certain what examples you came across, but I can take a strong guess as to why you found the examples less unusual than you might have thought they would be.

Disorganized thoughts are a very broadly defined symptom that boils down to being unable to regulate and/or to express your own thought processes in an organized way. It's one of the primary symptoms for schizophrenia, but it pops up with a lot of other disorders too, particularly other psychotic disorders and anything that contributes to insomnia and/or fatigue. Turns out it's hard to think in an organized way and express it clearly when you're extremely tired.

Autism also has a lot in common with the difficulty in expressing those thoughts. Autism actually was originally considered a type of schizophrenia- and there's definitely a link, since autistics are between three and six times more likely than allistics to be diagnosed with schizophrenia later in life. Echolalia, the repeating of words, noises, and phrases, is anecdotally the most common form of disorganized thinking among autistics.

If you consider disorganized thoughts purely as a "psychotic symptom", they become far more confusing than if you consider them "a symptom common among psychotic people". If all of the examples sound concerningly familiar, you may not have a psychotic disorder, but you have more in common with psychotics than you may have thought.

Personally, the disorganized thoughts I get the most are called "clang associations", where you start putting words together based on how they sound instead of what they mean. It's led me down some interesting rabbitholes about what words are and aren't related, and led to some of my better poetry. I would also make a strong argument that Victor Hugo had some form of "circumstantuality", which is where you begin including excessive context while maintaining a stream of thought. Since it also presents in writing, this isn't exactly a farfetched guess!

[torchiiko]

idk how to characterize bigshot spamton bc i feel like it entirely depends on how long his era of fame lasted & at what point in that timeline hes in depending on the length These are personal ramblings Btw

based on his current behavior i would say its definitely not too farfetched for the fame to go to his head & for him to start acting like a stereotypical self absorbed entitled celebrity. at the same time, going from a little nobody who could barely do his job to what very well couldve been an overnight sensation cant be easy to adjust to right away & he probably had some culture shock

i can also imagine his early days were exceptionally stressful with suddenly being booked for tons of advertisements, publicity events, sponsorships, & so on. i can almost see him being exhausted after the first few weeks, catching himself thinking maybe being a big shot isnt quite the easy life he thought itd be, maybe he even starts to regret it before convincing himself no, this is what hes been working toward all this time, he just has to power thru. he earned this, didnt he?

he sounds like hes always been somewhat confident & self assured based on how the addisons talked abt him "running his mouth" but i dont think he wouldve turned into that arrogant celebrity stereotype too quickly. he wouldve had to have been famous for Years to rlly settle into that kind of personality & im not sure of the generally agreed upon timeline, but part of me thinks he wasnt a big shot for very long at all

thematically itd make sense if his moment in the spotlight was shortlived, less than like 3 years or so, due to the nature of internet trends always coming & going. the next big thing everyones talking abt is forgotten shortly after, & then theres another new thing for everyone to look at, & so on. spamton apparently lost his fame as suddenly as he gained it so itd make more sense to me if his bigshot era was overall pretty short. while a few years is certainly enough time for a person to change, in a scenario like this youre likely to stay true to your roots for a while even if you have to put on a persona for the public. humble beginnings & such

my point is. you dont suddenly become famous without needing time to adjust. you dont become a huge jerk unless youve had plenty of time to let fame get to your head & get comfortable with the idea your success isnt going anywhere anytime soon. both of these bigshot spamton interpretations coexist in my head bc im dumby & idk the timeline so its like shrodingers bigshot spamton

[meimi-haneoka]

I think it's because the only CLAMP's works I read are TRC and CCS but I didn't see the true name thing coming. When I read it, I thought of is as a parallelism to TRC but your recap made it sound like this is a theme for CLAMP's works.

Would you mind giving me more context about how true names play a part in CLAMP's universe? And why did a lot of people see it coming even if is not something that happened in og CCS? At least not that I remember

Yes, true names seem to be a recurring theme in CLAMP's stories, especially in the most recent works.

In general, for what I know (I haven't read all of CLAMP's stories but I plan to fill that gap now that Clear Card is over) it's very common to have characters who are called in a way for most of the story, but are revealed to have another name towards the end.

This thing of the true name, in particular, seems to have taken a more concrete shape in xxxHolic, where Yuuko explained that if you give someone your true name, they can take your soul, and if you give them your birthday, they can take control of your life.

Hence why, especially among magicians, it's usual to go by fake names (Yuuko's name itself is a fake one and they never revealed what is her true name), cause it's particularly dangerous if it ends up in the wrong hands.

I think many people saw it coming, for Kaito but Akiho too, for good reasons: in chapter 51, thanks to Momo, we have the first mention of Kaito going by a fake name. That was also reiterated in a CLAMP Space some time ago. When there's a "flag" for a true name, fans usually expect to get it in the end, and in fact the other flag came in chapter 78 when Akiho told Kaito, in tears, that she didn't have a name to call him with.

Giving someone your true name is no joke and this is a testament to what Akiho means to Kaito (if it wasn't already clear from what he did for her).

For Akiho, it was something that was in the air since looooong time, because both her name and her last name were too similar and related to that of Sakura to be "real". They really looked like an alias that was made up to result in that way.

We had a "flag" for Akiho too, when she was reharsing for the play and there was a line where Sakura asked her "what's your name" and Akiho opens her mouth as if wanting to reply something instinctively, but stops herself and we only see "......" in the bubble of her dialogue.

I always felt that was the "flag" I was waiting for, it seemed to me like she was about to accidentally tell her true name.

We don't know if Akiho has been using this alias ever since she left her clan, to be honest it would be a little weird and it wouldn't be farfetched to think that she uses a different name for every country she goes to.

Akiho comes from a clan of magicians, and even though she doesn't have powers, she still learned all the customs of the magic world.

Moreover, it is sensible that she would be sent around the world with a fake name straight from her clan, since she bore a magical artifact inside of her, that they needed to protect.

Then, as you said, there's also a component of parallelism with Tsubasa because, as I've been saying for some time, Akiho and Kaito do have parallels with Syaoran and Sakura in TRC (they experience similar things in several instances).

[okanra]

⚠️ Note: This post is about Dragon Ball Super, and is written mostly for recap and research purposes, but it involves a few real-life related topics and will be pretty long so you should treat this like a blog post. If you’re comfortable with this and still curious to see what this is all about, keep your mind open and let’s go! 🤓

MY THOUGHTS/CONTROVERSIAL TAKE ON THE CURRENT STATE OF DRAGON BALL SUPER and DRAGON BALL FRANCHISE AS A WHOLE, AND THOUGHTS OF THE FUTURE OF THE BRAND

- PART 1: INTRODUCTION OF THE COMICS and TIMELINES -

1. INTRODUCTION:

Hello everyone, if this is your first time seeing me on your dashboard, my name is Kah and I’m an artist who have been working on a Dragon Ball webcomic named “Trunks and Goten in High school AU”, starring Goten and Trunks since 2021 and is still ongoing.

It’s used to appear on Google a lot until the current arc of Super happened, and Elon Musk’s decision to deleted the Moment feature on Twitter (that was the main link that mostly appeared on Google about my comic). It’s an art project that I’ve been letting it sleep inside my head for ~20 years and finally decided to manifest it into existence while infusing my style in it, until it got unexpectedly “canonized” by the Dragon Ball Super creators in late 2022 while the project is still in the beginning stage, in a way that I couldn’t predict it.

It changed everything afterwards of course. For both myself and the fandom, and maybe, the impact of this will be bigger than we think it will be 🤔

I know there’s nothing for you to believe in what I’m about to say, and I won’t force you to believe them too, of course, you have no obligation to do that. That’s exactly why you should try and read this and decide of what to think yourself, it can be something quite worthwhile.

The time this blog post is written is in January the 3rd, 2023. The incident was in December 2022, I will include timelines and many other articles down below, as well as images for you to see things more clearly. For the current me, this post is a recap for research purposes, and since I’ll be using myself and my work as an example, there’ll be some unwanted personal feelings unconsciously mixed in, but I’ll try to keep my mind as most neutral as possible.

You’re about to read my real thoughts on the current arc of Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero since chapter 88, the similarity of my webcomic in it and many other deeper things, as well as my theory/glimpse at future of Dragon Ball franchise as a whole. I hope this read would be entertaining to you.

2. THE TIMELINE:

Before we get into the main topic, here’re some of my character designs and background visuals for my webcomic. If you can, read through some chapters as well, it’s not much but it will give you an idea of what to come next.

Ok so the first question to ask is, when did my webcomic project start? I say it’s around May 2021, in the midst of the Covid-era, when mostly everyone was quarantined at their homes. This webcomic art project is drawn so I can practice my drawing, storytelling and creative writing skills. It’s an indie project through and through, that takes a lot of time, effort and love. I don’t profit much from it tho, I mean my patreon is even opened in August last year and I didn’t even promote it much on any social media platform other than Twitter sometimes. So yes, the main purposes of it were mostly what I wrote above.

When did the current arc of Super start? Since 20th, December 2022. After the Granolah arc of the Dragon Ball Super manga ended, this is the arc that is currently running: the Super Hero arc. In appearances, there’re a bit of similar vibes from the manga and my webcomic in 2021, and while it may sound farfetched and like false accusation for everyone else, my intention is not exactly aiming towards that, it aims for something lying deeper. This is just the tip of the iceberg, that I would analyze and share a bit of it with you. Like I said, I would try my best to write it out as neutrally as possible.

From here on out, I’ll begin to list the entire timeline that leads to the current state:

- The last time Goten and Trunks appeared as main characters in canon was almost 30 years ago, I was talking about the Dragon Ball Z and Dragon Ball GT versions. Goten and present Trunks were not favored characters by fans, even when they have a small fanbase and have some fanworks throughout the years, they were still mostly listed as a funny dumb duo and unmarketable by the franchise. This leads to these two characters not being developed and touched upon by their creators for many years, because Toriyama is the type of artist that would draw because he likes it, yes, but he would cater to the masses of fans more (for example, a lot of his decision in the writing of Dragon Ball was suggested to alter into something else that fit the general audience more and he would mostly agreed, like his desire for Gohan to be the main character after the Cell arc, but Goku was brought back into the picture due to his iconic popularity and flat-character type, and that’s how we got 30 years of Goku’s journey). (what is a flat character: here)

This personality of his would later have a hand in him selling his ownership and license of Dragon Ball to Shueisha (main license holder), Toei (animation license holder) and Bandai (merchandise license holder). Akira Toriyama is the creator in name only, but big decisions are not depended on him. He’s pretty much like Stan Lee - the creator of Spider Man, but all the copyrights and licenses are hold by Marvel.

- In late 2019, I decided to re-picked up the Dragon Ball manga due to nostalgia. While remembering about my love for Goten and Trunks and seeing the lacked of content for them. Being forgotten by their own creators for unjustified reasons, I decided to write and draw my own story for Goten and Trunks, and published it to the internet since May 2021 on many social media platforms, but Twitter is where I’m the most active. And Twitter is the main international platform for many official account of Japanese brands, including manga, anime and of course, Dragon Ball.

- Any loyal Dragon Ball fans in the fandom community will know they mostly love the Toriyama style, and most will try to make their fan works in his style to honor him and the show itself (and will get more attention from other fans). And even though my webcomic is not as favorable as other Toriyama style fan arts and fanseries/fancomic due to the personal unique art style (I have my own drawing style) and differences in tone and storytelling (while the show mostly veers in the humor/gag/action direction, mine is more towards the dramatic/angsty/introspective side), it did raise the awareness to other fans in the community about the potential of the “forgotten half Saiyans”. Especially when two of my good friends that I usually talked and hyped with on Twitter are a Dragon Ball fanartist (@/amartbee) and a Dragon Ball content creator/YouTuber (@SLOplays) that always share official news of the show on his page, I included their handle names in here just for a few examples, in no way do I want to pull them in this whole mess of course. But anyway, both have a big following on Twitter, have big influences and love Dragon Ball.

- And they love my webcomic. The fanartist shared my webcomics a lot to her page and her community (blessed her), and while the content creator didn’t share it (except for a few times), he felt the love I have for Goten and Trunks that I put in my fan comics, and love them more and shared that feeling to his fans as well. So through my and their influences, the fans during the covid-era began to see the light on these characters, and want to see more of their potential as well as love them more. During this time, the Dragon Ball Super manga was in the Moro and Granolah arc, still focused on the journey of Goku and Vegeta defeating opponents in space, because they’re the fan-favorite, the icon of the brand for many years and Toei/Shueisha felt right to continue milking them for content and marketable purposes. Until the midst of 2021...

- After my webcomic started in summer of 2021 for a few months, the official account/website of Dragon Ball began to dropped the news of “DRAGON BALL SUPER: SUPER HERO” movie (in production) in late 2021. And everyone was curious over what’s this all about.

- Then in February 2022, we had the full key visual for DRAGON BALL SUPER: SUPER HERO movie like this. “That’s something we have never seen before right?”. Yes, indeed it was. It was. But everyone was ecstatic, including me.

- During the time of the movie being in the production stage, several visuals and interviews from the animation staff member as well as Toriyama himself were published online, twitter was always the fastest of course. Toriyama said he wanted to make Piccolo as the main character for this movie only, but Toei wanted to include Gohan as the co-protagonist to lure in the Saiyan fans, which held the more dominant side of the fanbase. Hence why the movie had two protagonists that were Piccolo and Gohan. But the weird thing is, they decided to finally include the Super’s teenager version of Goten and Trunks this time. They were drawn by Toriyama, but I can tell based on how good he was as a character designer, Toriyama himself didn’t think much about their designs due to how simple they were. This made me feel like they were not at the forefront of his mind, and more like he was “told to do”.

- When the movie was finally released across the globe from June 2022 until the rest of the year, we found out about the scene with Goten/Trunks was only about 2 minutes, and they did nothing major in the movie. This would later confirmed my theory of this movie being an experiment and a very clever survey from Toei to know the taste of the international fans at the time with characters other than Goku and Vegeta (because they had been milking them for almost 30 years and even when these two are still the icon, the taste of ithe fans have changed).

Despite that, their 2 minutes on-screen was enough for me, my friends, our friends and followers/fans to expressed our love for these two through likes, shares, fanarts and everything else.

- During this time, I still worked on my passion project aka the Goten and Trunks webcomic series, and with a few fan arts mixed in along the way. Still hyped with my friends and followers as a fan on many social media platforms. Love them, the hype in this fandom is real.

- After the movie was aired for a few months, in August 2022 chapter 87 ended with a note from the editorial staff that said the manga would go on hiatus to prepared for the next arc. This would later confirm my theory of “this break” being the time when the whole franchise and “Dragon Ball” brand’s marketing/research department to check on the stats from the movie (that acted as a survey for international fans) to know which direction to go next.

- Until August 2022, the official account/website of Dragon Ball dropped the visuals of the next arc, which included Goten and Trunks as super heroes, and this arc would be the arc before the Super Hero movie with them as the protagonists.

This is when I began to feel a queasy feeling that whispered something like “that was... Odd. Good but... Odd”. Because from the beginning of Dragon Ball Super until now, it has always been a Goku and Vegeta’s journey to space, there was no build up, no anything to lead to Goten and Trunks being protagonists at this point. Below are some examples from the Moro arc, they still remained in kid’s forms like what they have been for so many years like this.

- In November 2022, there’re leaks about the next arc of Dragon Ball Super aka chapter 88, and we found out this arc will focus on Trunks and Goten’s high school life, with Trunks as a protagonist and learn how to be a superhero.

This was when everything came crashing down on my head, shattered my rose colored glasses and connected all the dots. I decided to wait a bit longer to confirm my theory by reading chapter 88 and see the content in it. While most of the fans were ecstatic, because they finally got what they wanted: Goten and Trunks finally got their spotlight in canon; I was feeling nervous more.

- In 20th December 2022, chapter 88 got released and while it caught the eye of many fans from both Japan and the international, the first chapter of the arc got mixed reviews due to it focuses too much on Trunks’s crush on Mai to the point of forcing readers to accept it. I wrote this thread right after reading chapter 88, giving out my prediction. And later today, it got confirmed by Toyotaro himself in an interview: he did intend to put in lots of romance in this arc.

- But after all of this, I mostly saw the weird and lots of lots of “coincidence” in my theme and the Super manga theme. They are both alike, and TOTAL POLAR OPPOSITE. Imagine two similar (or same) products, but they are being produced under two different brands (in this case, it’s from a company vs a homemade one), with opposite directions and purposes.

We’ll continue the next part after this, it’ll dive deeper into the real life topics to emphasize my points and researchers. The theme of the next post aka part 2 will be:

THE CURRENT STATUS OF THE DRAGON BALL SUPER, THE RELATIONSHIP OF THE MANGA WITH FANS AND FANWORKS, AND THE FUTURE OF THE DRAGON BALL FRANCHISE AS A WHOLE

- end part 1 -

[medusapelagia]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I wanted to do this so badly that I cheated and copied it from @just-my-latest-hyperfixation... sorry 😝!

How many works do you have on AO3?

100 Today!!! Even if I have more stories here on Tumblr that I will post on Ao3 sooner or later.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

728.469

3. What fandoms do you write for?

mainly Stranger Things but I posted a couple of The Witcher fics (one is my anon!) and I'm working on a couple of WIPs

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

28 AU-gust: Royalty  Never Again  I'm so good at telling lies (That came from my mother's side)  Ghost  My lucky charm  (All Steddie)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, always! Even if sometimes I'm a little embarrassed because I feel that "Thank you" is not enough to express what I feel every time I receive a comment.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Sorrow, a very sad little Harringrove with character death.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is hard... but at the moment the one that holds my heart is I'm so good at telling lies and no, the last chapter hasn't been posted yet!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I'm looking forward to the moment someone will actually write something awful about my stories, but for the moment I was lucky enough to have only mildly bad comments.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do but I try to keep it sweet and, apart from some PWPs, it usually takes a lot for my character to get to the smut part: they have to earn it!

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I wrote a crossover between The Crow and Stranger Things (It can't rain all the time) and some crossover for a Metalsandwhich event. The crazy one I wrote is a crossover between Jurassic Park and Kinktober for the Metalsandwich Movie Marathon, but it was so fun! 😂

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I started writing in Italian and translated two of my fics into English (one of them being one of the longest fics I wrote). Never again: it takes forever and it's super boring because I already know the story😅

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Ages ago, when I used to write in Italian on another platform I did. It was a LOTR fic Aragorn/Legolas and it was a wonderful experience but I don't think I would be able to do the same in English.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

in this moment Steddie, but I'm a big fan of Harringrove and Metalsandwich too.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'll finish all of them because for me it's a pac.t between me and my readers: they give me their trust and I don't want to disappoint them.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm a very fast writer and I try to do my best to be better every time I start a new story

17.What are your writing weaknesses?

I always have to fight a bit with the smut scenes because it's a subtle equilibrium between being too clinical and letting the characters enjoy themselves.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I did it and I can do it easily because I speak four languages but in reality, I used it only one time: if the story needs it it's ok but sometimes it sounds farfetched

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The first fic I wrote ages ago was for City Hunter (a Japanese manga), after that, I wrote for Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. Now, after almost 15 years, I'm back thanks to Steddie!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Honestly? Always the next one I'm working on.

My no pressure tags are @dragonflylady77 , @destroya-hargrove, @kallisto-k , @spaceofentropy , @lorifragolina , @rindecisions

[winter-dayz]

Only silence remains

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x Reader Shadow People AU Genre: Horror Words: 1089 Warnings: gore; strong language

Masterlist | Fictober Masterpost

Taglist:  @soobin-chois

“Tae~ how far out are we?” you whined lightly while Taehyun pumped the gas. You leaned against the side of the car, face tilted to the warm sun, and briefly took in the barren dirt road and unending span of trees.

For your fourth anniversary, you and Taehyun had decided to try something new. You’d planned a whole weekend getaway instead of just going on another date night.

It was definitely not how you’d chosen to spend your previous anniversaries, but you both were trying to expand your interests and get outside more. Especially after being cooped up during the pandemic.

It had been your idea to try backpacking after you’d done a short, easy hike with some friends near the coast. Taehyun was, as you expected, down for whatever made you happy, and he had even suggested turning the idea into a romantic weekend away from your busy lives. So, you both sat down and found some really beautiful backpacking trails and campsites within a day’s drive of your home that you were interested in visiting.

He chuckled. “Should be there by sundown. Be patient, baby.”

You smirked teasingly over at him as you both loaded back into the car, “Oooh, sundown, huh? You know this area has a legend about the forest after dark.”

“Oh, really?”

You hummed, “Yep, apparently this superstitious little town tells stories about evil creatures that live in the shadows. Their touch is cold as ice, and if they grab you, you’ll never be seen again… They feast on innocent souls and human flesh~” You wiggled your fingers in a teasing motion, and Taehyun chuckled again at your silliness.

The “legends” were part of the reason you had ultimately chosen this area. You were a sucker for a good ghost story, even if it was ridiculously farfetched.

“Honestly, it sounds like the kind of scary story the big kids tell their younger siblings to make them afraid of the dark.”

“Yeah, I thought it sounded like bullshit too.” You shrugged, hopping back into the passenger seat.

🎃

You arrived at the campsite within a couple hours, just as the sun was fully setting. The forest surrounding your little tent area was dense, having caused you to cut out some brush to even get to your spot, but it was supposedly the best starting point for the hiking trails the two of you had planned out for the morning.

Even if the stories about “shadow people” were bull, the trees surrounding you certainly did cast an unpleasant darkness around you. Paired with the new moon, the rapidly blackening night felt ominous. You stared at the tree line, trying not to feel like something was staring back. Trying not to feel like something was closing in on you. Trying not to feel like you weren’t alone…

“Boo!” Taehyun grabbed your sides, causing you to let out a violent gasp.

“Tae~” You whined loudly, playfully shoving him back while he laughed. “That’s not funny! You scared me…”

“Aww~” He teased you. “Are those scary stories getting to you, baby?”

You opened your mouth to retort back when a strange sound interrupted you. Before you could question the odd thump, it repeated. And again, and again, and again. Until the rhythmic thumping was surrounding the two of you.

You could feel your heart racing, Taehyun’s wide-eyes indicating he was in the same predicament, and you realized you recognized the sound.

They were heartbeats.

“Tae…” You whispered, barely audible over the thumping. But before you could suggest that you two leave and find somewhere else to camp, an unsettling chill ran down your spine. The shiver wracked both your bodies, freezing you in place, while mist and clouds rolled in and blotted out the dim stars above.

The area grew darker; the thumping grew closer; your fear grew stronger.

Neither of you had gotten around to lighting a fire properly yet, but you noticed your lanterns flickering, on and off with the beat of the noise. Each time the light flickered, the shadows along the treeline seemed to dance. They writhed and wiggled, like beasts coming back to life.

There was something in that darkness. Something ancient and evil. It was taunting you… Playing with its food before it devoured you whole.

You had felt it before you saw it, but then one of the shadows cleaved from the rest. It stretched closer towards you, despite no light moving or causing it.

You felt your breath catch, contrary to Taehyun letting out a heavy gasp. The air around you fogged when his warm breath met the icy mist.

The shadow reaching towards you froze. Waiting. Motionless.

The lanterns dimmed, not powerful enough to fight the otherworldly darkness.

More and more shadows cleaved from the treeline. They materialized into indistinct, broken, grotesque figures. They were vaguely human, but in the way that only nightmares could recreate.

The tendrils that were their arms and hands slithered towards you. Predatory.

Fight or flight kicked in. And, while Taehyun raised his arms to shield you, you grasped onto his wrist to run. The break in the treeline you had set up to camp in hadn’t been that large, but as you tried to flee with Taehyun, it seemed to stretch on endlessly. The trees blurred together, becoming a mass of darkness. You felt like you were running in circles, into a labyrinth of nothingness.

The thumping continued to surround you, even as you both ran and ducked beneath branches and pushed through the brush. Nothing seemed to change. The darkness… the shadow people continued to push forward, growing ever closer.

You screamed as you felt a deathly cold tendril slither up your leg and wrap around your waist. It burned with how icy it felt, and you cried out for help when you fell. Your screams were drowned out, though, by guttural whispers and wicked, broken cackling.

Peering over, thinking Taehyun had at least escaped, you spotted your boyfriend.

His body was crumpled on the ground, shadowy tendrils slithering over him like snakes and leaving frostbitten, blackened skin in their wake. His eye sockets were empty pits, almost unending with their depth. His mouth hung open, frozen in his own silent scream, as an inky black substance appeared to ooze out from within the cavern behind his lips.

The cold was suffocating, but the hopelessness is what made you succumb to the shadows.

No one would ever find you. The dark truly would devour you, and only the haunting silence would remain.