#it’s just acid splash nothing else

[iliterallydecepticanteven]

The stupid running joke of me perpetually rolling horribly when trying to cast Acid Splash during DnD is not funny anymore. It’s been 7 sessions and I still somehow keep failing this silly little cantrip!!!!!

[shotmrmiller]

forcing your presence onto simon late at night because insomnia and a cup of tea always helps, or so they say, but you were taught better than to not offer others some but now the steaming cup is just sitting on the table to cool while you carefully sip on yours.

he doesn't look at it, you, nothing. keeps his eyes fixed on whatever he's doing, maybe cleaning his gun or something. fine. what matters is that you did your part.

and it eventually becomes routine. every night, like clockwork, he's darkening a corner in the coffee room and you've got a kettle warming. and every night, he ignores everything in his peripheral.

until he doesn't. it starts slow. you're already headed for the door, hand covering your yawn when he picks up the mug and takes a sniff. then, it's the tiniest sip, as if it's got teeth. come morning, the mug you used and his are clean, drying on a dish mat.

the following night, he waits for you to put it on the table before grabbing it. "you've a shit hand," he mutters. "left to steep too long. more bitter than the cigars price smokes."

okay. bastard. the next pot is too bland. calls it dog water. but he drinks all of it just the same. little to no sugar, splash of milk. the stare he leveled your way when he added milk could've destroyed the block.

"secrets safe with me, lieutenant. swear it."

unless he's tearing your ego into tatters with his scathing tea critique, he says nothing else. listens well enough, though. maybe. his eyes look blank most of the time. but he lets you ramble without interruption about nonsensical stuff; your day, your job, soap being the usual nuisance.

it's nice.

and then you fall ill. nothing water and cocooning yourself with your bedsheets for a day or three can't fix.

but then there's a very violent knocking on your door, hard enough to rattle it in its hinges, flaring the already painful throbbing that sits behind your eyes. no matter how hard you try to tell them to piss off, they don't.

"open the door."

now you've got a 6'2+ man barreling into your bedroom, turning his unnerving gaze your way. his eyes flick to your runny nose, chapped lips and wrinkled sleeping clothes.

"you're sick." brilliant observation. truly a man worth his sniper position.

"yes. i'm quite-" your words come to settle behind your clenched teeth as you watch him dig into his front pockets and pull out crinkled tea bags. and open your cabinets because now you're the visitor and he the (g)host.

you'd rather drink battery acid than another one of his brews. it made your eyes prick with tears, burned as it went down, warmed your chest. it was lukewarm when you drank it.

(he clears up a space on your foot table, and by clear up i mean use an arm to shove everything off the edge so he can continue to clean his weapons. has your couch always been that small?)

[cultofdixon]

Life can try and take you away. But I won’t let it

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • People were falling sick and it turns out the new doc in Alexandria was slowly poisoning people. Boy did he meet his end • ANGST/SFW • TW: Nausea & Vomiting / Anxiety / Poisoning

Requested by: Anon

She looks exhausted Daryl thought when looking at Y/N from across the gardens watching her work slower than usual.

“Daryl, before you head back to the Sanctuary…Siddiq wants to load you up with more pain meds and vitamins he fou—-“

“Imma hang back for a bit. Besides, Rosita is training some of the women there. She can keep an eye on it until I get back” Daryl interrupts Rick but kept his attention on who matters. Rick noticed where his attention was and couldn’t help himself with stating the obvious.

“You know you love her. You’ve loved her for years. Why don’t you just—-“

“Shut it” Daryl cut him off once more when he watched Y/N stand to her feet a bit too fast for her liking and before she even knew it, she was falling back down. “Shit—-“ he quickly ran over with Rick following behind.

Hey

Wake up

Cmon Y/N

Cmon girl

Didn’t want to do this

Splashing her face with water only resulted in Y/N throwing a punch at the nearest person which happened to be Daryl as he caught her fist.

“Chill out. You fainted” Daryl helped her sit up along with Rick as they had someone grab Siddiq in case of anything else.

“So you splashed water in my face?” Y/N frowns pushing Siddiq’s hand away when he tried to feel her forehead. “I’m fine. I got up too fast”

“Are you feeling lightheaded? I would stay on the ground until—-

“I’m fine!” Y/N snapped pushing Daryl back a bit to give her room to stand up and once she did, she stumbled back into Rick as he quickly helped her steady herself. “Ugh. Whatever I’m going to lay down”

“It’ll do yea some good” Rick made his comment and caught her glare his way. “We will come check on you every once in a while. Daryl will you—-“

“I’ll stick with her”

“Oh well I meant just to walk her—-“

“Nah. I’ll give her her space but I’m sticking around in case of anything” Daryl stated, not taking any other suggestions as he rose to his feet keeping close to his currently upset friend who only wanted to work more. But everyone was afraid if she did, she’d pass out somewhere they couldn’t find her.

A couple hours passed and Daryl started to get worried the more he sat in the living room of Carol’s old place. He and Y/N still live there.

“Y/N?” Daryl eventually moved from his spot downstairs, entering her room with hesitation and a bit of panic when her supposedly sleeping form wasn’t in the bed. “Y/N?!” Then he flinched to the repulsive sounds of vomiting but he pushed through and entered the bathroom connected to her room finding her shaking form gripping the toilet. “Y/N, isn’t it getting—-“

“Worse” She choked out before vomiting again and at this point it was bile. Nothing left but her stomach acid coming up. “Everything fucking hurts” she sobbed, feeling Daryl pull her hair back and tie it up with the hair tie he always carries on him just for her.

Daryl gently rested his hand on her forehead feeling that the fever has gotten worse. His anxiety decided to act and radio Siddiq because he wasn’t going to leave her side.

He was instructed Daryl to carry her to the infirmary and to be careful because of her dizzy spells and the fact that she puked. The archer wouldn’t care if she threw up on him if it meant getting her on the road of recovery.

But arriving Siddiq uncovered more that was going on with Y/N. There was a rash on her arm and it seemed to go further under her clothes that Siddiq asked Daryl to get another set of clothes. Specifically a tank top and shorts.

“Y/N, come on. Need you to stay awake for a minute” Siddiq frowns holding her face to watch her eyes slowly lock onto his. She squinted looking at him feeling that pain return as she shut her eyes tight letting him practically man handle her to be on her side leaning over the bed to vomit. “It’s okay…we’ve gotcha. We’ll figure this out”

As Daryl makes a quick descend down the stairs with clothes in hand, he couldn’t help himself when it came to investigating what could be the cause of her symptoms. He set the clothes on one of the bar stools before checking around the kitchen finding ingredients left out.

Carol’s recipe? Daryl thought as he lifted the piece of paper beside the mess reading the ingredient list and the note left by Carol. He shoved the note in his back pocket about to leave when he couldn’t help but grimace to an off smell.

“The fuck…” Daryl scoffs picking up a few of the ingredients to see what the smell was coming from.

After a moment, Daryl came back with the clothes finding Siddiq finishing up an IV line and injecting a sedative.

“Did you—-“

“She was poisoned”

“What?” Siddiq frowns taking the clothes and getting his radio to contact one of their girl friends to help Y/N get changed. “How can you be sure?”

“She was making cookies. One of Carol’s recipes and she didn’t share any because it was a bad batch.”

“I still don’t—-“

“But there was this weird smell and I thought it was just. What was made. Burnt. Then I checked the flour she got and it was rat poison.”

“She grabbed rat poison from the pantry—-“

“No, it was in a flour bag. Somebody tampered with the pantry…this was deliberate” Daryl stated feeling his gaze latch onto Y/N’s curled up form as he gripped onto the clothes he got for her. “This is bad ain’t it”

“Being poisoned is no joke and she’s exhibited a lot of symptoms and if they only get worse…there’s only so much we can do. But right now I need to get my hands on the charcoal tabs from the Kingdom. They are known for helping with absorbing the poison.”

“I’ll go get it. You just. Please.”

Siddiq knew what he wants, what they all want. But it was different with Daryl.

“Siddiq….” Y/N shifted trying to keep herself awake even if her body ached terribly. But she needed to. “Is he gone?”

“He just stepped out. I can go—-“

“No…Siddiq…promise me something” She frowns watching him kneel to her bedside. “Don’t let it eat himself alive if I don’t make it”

“Y/N—“

“Please…we don’t know what could happen further. I…ugh. I wasn’t thinking either” She started to tear up feeling Siddiq’s hand gently brush them away.

“What happened isn’t your fault. We are going to find whoever tampered with the pantry and they will receive consequences. For now just let the sedative work while Daryl gets what we need” Siddiq reassures her fixing the blanket to cover her more as she was shivering but the fever was also still presented.

Carol was notified of Daryl’s arrival from Rick who was updated on Y/N’s condition from Siddiq. She had what he needed at the ready but when he arrived there was much more on his mind and she knew that it was her time to shine.

“Daryl. Don’t you dare”

“I just fucking got here”

“Yeah but you’re taking the blame for something you didn’t even do.”

“She got poisoned. In fucking Alexandria. A place we thought after the war they wouldn’t fuck with. But no that was delusional thinking…” Daryl scoffs opening his pack as Carol packed up what he came to grab. “I could’ve—-“

“Daryl. Stop it” Carol snaps to get himself out of that headspace. “Anything could’ve happened to anybody. It’s a terrible way of thinking that it’s good someone had this happen so that we can get the person who’s tampering with the supply. Now you better get back so she can use this.”

“I read the note. What you wrote under the list”

Carol softens, still keeping a sense of sternness in her expression. “Do you have any idea how badly she would’ve felt if it was you in her shoes? I know you would’ve rather had your place swapped with hers…but she would be just as self destructive. Now go”

When Daryl returned Y/N was situated in the clothes he grabbed for her, an IV for fluids, and a few loose bandages on the rashes that got terrible. She turned her head when she heard the door open tiredly smiling at Daryl watching him as he made his way to her side opening the bottle of the activated charcoal.

The archer almost stopped what he was doing to help her sit up when he watched her struggle a bit given all of her energy depleted.

“What’s that”

“The charcoal shit Siddiq wants you to take”

“Mmm…for what again?” There’s a fuckton of symptoms for someone who was poisoned. Just be glad it’s mental confusion and not yknow a seizure or coma.

Daryl frowns opening her hand and placing the tablets, the required amount, in her hand watching her stare at them for a bit while he grabbed the water from the bedside table. Y/N took the tablets drinking shortly after, giving the glass back to Daryl. He kept his eyes glued on her every move in case something more were to happen but all she really did after taking the tablets were lick her lips and bring her fingers to them.

“Shit…vomitting really dries out your lips somehow…” Y/N scoffs hanging her head down. “I look how I feel huh?”

“You look beautiful” Daryl said as if it were fact and that brought a bit of a heated hue on Y/N’s face while his were set on the tips of his ears. He reached into the inside his vest pocket (something he installed himself) to take out a silver circular tin and giving it to her.

Y/N hasn’t even opened it yet as she was smiling the second he took it out. She knew it was the lip balm she gotten him that she thought he had thrown out.

“Thanks…” She expresses after handing it back once she used it on her lips.

“Mhm. I gotta…tell Siddiq you got the tablets. He’ll instruct yea if you need more” Daryl stated watching her nod along to what he was saying. “I want to check in with Rick about the pantry shit. I’ll be back after” as he started to get up and make his way toward the door he heard a bit of a soft gasp escape her that when he looked at Y/N she averted her gaze grabbing fistfuls of the blanket. “What is it?”

“I…Do you mind…”

Daryl frowns looking at her confused bringing himself back to her bed and checking her person in case she was trying to bring up any pain she was in.

“Y/N?”

“Can you just…stay with me?” Y/N whispers keeping her gaze down. She felt a shift in the bed lifting her gaze with a hint of a smile.

“Yeah, I can do that” Daryl returns the smallest smile, gently tucking a stray hair behind her ear and letting her lean against him.

Until eventually, Siddiq came to check on her finding Daryl holding her close rubbing circles on her back as she slept. She was making a turn for the better and Daryl was keeping an eye on her.

Like always.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Just read what you wrote about autobots reacting to rain, and now I'm wondering what would happen if they saw the kids jump into a pool full of chemicals (chlorine and whatever else they use to maintain a pool).

Basically, on a hot summer day the kids were complaining about the heat, so agent fowler got a pool for them to cool down in. The bots saw what the people assembling the pool put in the pool, and they freak out when the kids jump in with no hesitation.

Ooooooooooooooooh boy.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The bots do not like rain. On Cybertron, the stuff was acidic and capable of killing a mech through prolonged exposure. Even on Earth, they still aren't fond of it. Big bodies of water have received the same treatment. Not a spark likes them. Bumblebee may appreciate the rain and running in it off and on, but not a single Autobot enjoys any large body of water. Its wet, gets everywhere, and most notably, could hide any number of threats that they cannot see. Not to mention their very code demands they remain away from anything that even resembles and acid pool. Optimus is especially wary due to his time growing up in the wilds.

These fears were largely not an issue due to the bone dry nature of Jasper. But one hot summer day, the children decided it would be a grand idea to swim. The team knew in theory what the concept was. They had seen enough videos and were largely alright with the children swimming in purified water. If Ratchet could run scans and have them come back with nothing but majority H2O, the team could be content. As such when Agent Fowler finally caved in and got the children a pool for the base as well as all the necessary cleaning tools, the children were thrilled.

They constructed the pool in the training room just to make sure they didn't mess with any of Ratchet's stuff and promptly began filling it up. Bulkhead and Bumblebee were roped into getting buckets to help fill it up faster while the rest of the team hovered nearby to watch. Once the pool was ready, Miko threw in the filter and got the pool cleaning systems running before scurrying away with the others to get her suit on. The team didn't know what she had done but remained passive for a long moment until Ratchet got suspicious. He dipped a chemical tester into the pool water and scowled at it as he waited for the results. By the time he read them, the children had already canon balled into the water and begun laughing.

But of course that joy was short-lived as Ratchet all but screamed and demanded the team get the children out NOW. The medic hurried to try and do something but skidded on the water on the ground and promptly lost his balance. Upon reading the results of Ratchet's scan for themselves, the rest of the team lost their minds.

Smokescreen who had not wanted anything to do with the pool backed away screaming as the children splashed him. He scrubbed down his armor in terror and flew toward the washracks. Ultra Magnus, Wheeljack, and Bulkhead were too large to get near to the children and all three were similarly terrified of the "Contaminated' liquid. Bumblebee and Arcee were the only ones small enough to take one for the team and put a pede into the pool and carefully scoop up the children. They shrieked as the liquid seeped into their seams and both dropped to the ground as soon as the children were handed to Optimus. The Prime for his part mentally prepared himself to have mangled servos for the remainder of his functioning as he rushed to the nearest pure water source and sprayed down the children with the hose.

The children were not pleased at all to say the least. However as they watched the team huddle around staring at them and their own frames in horror, their anger faded quickly. They instead felt guilty as Smokescreen began wailing about how he was too young to end up like a mech called Kup. The entire team was lamenting their fates as Ratchet checked them all, the medic having already come to terms with the possible mutilation of his back if the "contaminated" liquid was as bad as he initially thought. Miko fussed over her Wreckers, Jack went to Arcee and tried to comfort her as she looked at her leg sadly, and Rafael did his best to explain.

It was only after the team had quite a while to realize that they were not about to be mutilated for life that they looked over the children and came to the conclusion that, like rain, the water wasn't going to kill them.

Rafael: "What your scans picked up were just some cleaning chemicals. Chlorine and a few other things."

Ratchet: "Those are dangerous aren't they?"

Rafael: "Well they can be in large quantities and some people's skin don't handle it well, but it won't kill a person unless they eat it or something."

Smokescreen: "So... we aren't about to die?"

Jack: "Well I think you would be dead already if that were the case."

Yet another instance of the team nearly losing their minds over a simple thing. The Wreckers almost passed out from relief and while Optimus will never admit it, he was genuinely terrified of losing his servos. Bumblebee and Arcee looked at each other with completely deadpan expressions, both murmuring about how they "should have expected this". Ratchet merely grumbled and shakily stopped planning how to tell June and Fowler that the children died from being turned into sludge under his supervision. At the same time Smokescreen had to hastily wipe his face to try and act as though he weren't two seconds from a breakdown.

The team never spoke of the incident again and collectively acted as though nothing happened whenever the children brought it up. It was agitating to the children, but they got back at the team once they were allowed back into the pool again. There was always a bot there to watch them just in case they started melting or something, and whoever the poor bot on duty was, they got splashed. Most flinched or stepped away, but Smokescreen always. screamed.

The children find it hilarious to this day.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

10,000 Leagues Under Fontaine

Synopsis: The life of a guard of the Fortress of Meropide is mostly dull and structured, until a chance encounter with an otherworldly beast gives you a reason to smile again.

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Angst Warnings: Mentions of drowning, acid, burning, very slight mentions of blood

~ * ~ The Fortress of Meropide is always cold. Cold, but never quiet; the underwater complex is unmistakably alive despite being made of metal sheets and grates, the sound of machinery weaving with the chatter of both inmates and guards, sharing their days and gossiping here and there as good citizens of Fontaine always do- rumors spread fast in the Fortress, and there’s not a moment that isn’t exciting or entertaining in some way. Or so you like to imagine. Being one of the top guards of Meropide has its benefits- getting to choose your days off, occasional trips to the surface, even the Duke’s personal trust in your abilities. But with trust comes difficult, often tedious tasks, ones that Administrator Wriothesley only assigns to the most capable workers, and so you find yourself patrolling the space between the main prison and the ocean gates. The room is an odd mixture of metal and screws and a gradual incline towards the sea floor, a shallow puddle transitioning into a passage filled with water that someone could swim in. You keep wondering when Wriothesley will properly fix the gate at the end, and he simply responds that he’ll get around to it at some point. For now, keep watch- it’s almost a straight shot to the ocean, and we wouldn’t want inmates attempting to escape, now would we? And you just nodded, expression steady as stone and twice as unmoving; no prisoners would sneak in on your watch.

Not that they often do. Life at the Fortress is a new start for many and even a step up in comfort for most. Besides, the passage is much too long for anyone without a Vision to swim through without the danger of drowning- you’ve had to haul a few corpses out in the past, and that was enough to dissuade most of the other prisoners, it seems. Good for security, but boring for you, as there’s little else to do but watch water drip from the ceiling and skirt around the jagged bits and edges of metal left on the walls and floor. Occasionally a gardemek going through its initial testing will join you, and you’ll idly teach it to play rock paper scissors- so far, you’ve kept up a 50% win rate against the robotic soldiers- but nothing more. At least it smells of rain here instead of smoke and fire. You’re alone on the day that the noises begin, sitting on a crate and mistaking them for distant ocean waves and the clanging of hammers against metal. They’re simple at first- vague splashes and a faint scratching sound- but as you listen they morph into something else, like echoing cries, or perhaps a song through the sea. Something beautiful, for once, one corner of your mouth twitching up ever so slightly- what few friends you have call this expression your “almost-smile”, and know it’s as pleased as you’ll get. Something close.

Your almost-smile vanishes as your ears pick up the distinct sound of something swimming through water, the water that flows through this small passage, scrambling to your feet and snatching your weapon from its spot on the floor as whatever-it-is turns the corner, the water’s surface rippling. You really should’ve taken up on His Grace’s offer to get you a rifle. You’re expecting the aquatic thing to burst forth from the sea, attacking you first and asking questions once you’re dead, but instead you’re greeted with the sight of two crimson horns poking out into the air, the water stilling if not for slight movements. Slowly, steadily, your gaze follows the horns down as a head rises out of the water, a single crystalline eye blinking curiously and settling on your form. There’s a moment of silence, and then the creature chirps. You can only freeze in place, brows furrowed in deep confusion as the beast- Archons, it’s big- hauls itself onto shore, tilting its head this way and that as it cautiously approaches. The hand holding your weapon tightens, your heartbeat almost painful, and the monster’s eye widens as it pauses, glancing nervously from you to your weapon and back again.

With slow, deliberate movements, you watch as the beast lowers its head to your height, letting out a soft trill. It almost sounds apologetic, hunching its shoulders inward shamefully, and something in your heart, the one you molded and fixed into being cold and quiet, cracks. You lower your weapon, eyes narrowed, and you swear you hear the creature purr. Legacy is its name, his name- Foul Legacy, a monster from beneath your world. But he’s a monster only in appearance, you’ve learned, navigating the ocean with boundless curiosity and a demeanor sweeter than any Fontainian dessert or cake that you’ve ever eaten. Tell me everything, he begs, scratching his claws through the dirt in a language you only vaguely remember from an old book. Tell me anything and everything- about this world, about here, about there, about you. He likes you, you’re kind and caring and gentle, so unlike the countless stars he’s seen before. You try to protest. You’re not caring, or gentle, or kind- you’re a guard of Fontaine’s prison, someone who was stabbed through your spine and constructed walls around your fragile heart, watching the Fortress to make sure that no one could ever be hurt like that again. You’re not soft or loving, you’re not. But Foul Legacy merely chitters, fluttering those sparkling wings that you swore used to be fins and staring at you so sincerely that you’d think he adored you.

And he does adore you, loves you, even. Ah, if only he spoke your language, the language of mortals that his tongue can’t seem to wrap around, if only he could say three simple words and hug you close, showering you in affection. But he can’t touch you. The last time he tried you had clamped your teeth down on your tongue, a drop of blood falling from your mouth as your skin burned like acid, a sickly heat creeping up before you had jolted away, gasping for air. Legacy whined in concern, trying to nudge your seemingly-unblemished hand, but you’d simply shaken your head and stepped away, slightly feverish. Every person in Fontaine is born with sin. No matter how the Nation of Justice holds trial after trial, this sin cannot be absolved. He didn’t touch you after that, merely curling his body carefully around yours during your visits, hanging on to your every rambling word and always parting with the same question- Tomorrow? Yes. You’d return tomorrow, despite your chilly expression and flat words and tone. You always return tomorrow.

The Fortress has been buzzing with energy- not that it isn’t always- but the arrival of a certain golden Traveler has kept everyone on their toes, the dread and anticipation of something happening seeping into your bones, because it’s always something whenever that Traveler and their tiny, floating companion are around. You almost prefer your monotonous routine from before, but a small smile blooms slowly on your face when you watch Foul Legacy happily splash around in the water, shaking his head and cooing as the droplets rain down around him. He chirps at you curiously, your quiet, fond expression reflected back in his sapphire eye, and you just let out a small laugh and wave your hand as he stares at this new facet of you in awe. With a soft plink, a bead of water falls and lands on your cheek, a hiss of annoyance escaping you as you quickly swipe it away, settling between your nail and finger. It burns, and your throat closes up in horror. Not a minute later, Wriothesley’s voice rings out through the building. “All residents, evacuate immediately.” There’s a crackling pop and a split second of silence, before the alarm blares and your ears ring with pain. Until one day, the water levels in Fontaine will rise, and the sinful people will slowly be drowned.

Your hands slam against the barred door, tearing desperately at the metal that mercilessly rips into your fingers and closes off the room you always guard so carefully from the rest of the Fortress- they forgot you. They forgot you. They forgot you and left you here to drown and rot, and your eyes burn with repressed tears, fear enveloping your senses like a sticky, jagged web. No no no- you swore you’d never be this afraid again, that you’d never surrender so easily again, that you’d never cry ever ever again. A soft, concerned whimper snaps your head around, Foul Legacy standing behind you. His wings droop at your damp eyes, claws twitching and curling from the urge to hold and hug and comfort you as is right and proper, banish the panic away because it scares him to see you, normally so composed and quiet, this terrified; instead he shakes his head and trills, hastily beckoning for you to follow him, boots splashing in the water stretching into a long passage. Out. It leads out. It leads out to the sea and the surface, where you can breathe and cry and admire the sun, and your feet move forward before you can even think. You want to live- yes, finally you want to live. You want to live and be able to smile and laugh again, keeping the warmth that this strange, otherworldly monster brought to your life and never let go.

With a deep breath, you plunge into the water, kicking your feet and pushing yourself in the general direction of the path. Foul Legacy guides you with his chirps, now turned to eerie, song-like notes under the waves. His tail and fins- weren’t those just wings?- propel him faster than you could ever dream, yet still he slows his pace and stays behind with you, and your heart feels like it's joining in on his melody. The water swirls around you like oil, lungs burning as a few stray bubbles trickle out of your mouth and you taste salt on your lips. What little you can see in your murky vision flickers black, and Legacy lets out a sudden, terrified shriek. In the end, the people will all be dissolved into the waters, and only the Hydro Archon will remain, weeping on her throne.

It’s just salt in your mouth now, the taste coating your tongue in a horridly thick layer. Your fingers twitch as they burn, pushing through the water with arms heavy as lead. Foul Legacy whimpers and sobs in despair, grasping his claws around your wrist to try to pull you out, get you to the surface away from this sickened water only for the ocean itself to sink its teeth in and hold fast. What’re you trying to do, again? You’re having trouble remembering where you are, what you are, who you are, scrubbing your eyes again and again and swallowing gulps of salty seawater. This is where you’re supposed to be. This feels safe, comforting- you’re going home after all this time, see, somewhere less confining and fleeting. Finally, you’ll be where you belong, free from the bindings that hold all of Fontaine in their grasp. There’s a vague sense that someone has wrapped their arms around you, faint, anguished wails echoing through the depths, and when you finally open your eyes again you see stars dancing across ripples and tides. You return to the Primordial Sea, and Foul Legacy’s talons close on only foam and bubbles. Only then will the sins of the people of Fontaine be washed away.

[jjkeremika]

it is hot (with you; love you)

description: eren and mikasa make love in a hot spring… that is all…

pairing: eren x mikasa, eremika (aot, snk)

universe: og/original

**smutty**

ao3

Eren found peace in the hot springs, often spending his free time hiking well within Wall Maria to the hot spring, sauna and spa resort in the mountains.

A small cabin complex for weary travelers, wedged into the side of the mountain, small pools of hot water scattered, isolated. The long trees and tall rock structures surrounded the spring like a cocoon, wooden planks imitating walls creating roof-ed structures.

Eren would sit naked on the smooth wooden surface, let the steam tickle his skin with a warm embrace. The hot dewy air made it easier to breathe, easier to bear the reality and responsibilities of this world. The bright shine of the near-setting sun on the water highlighted what little beauty was left to enjoy, made it more difficult to close his eyes on it.

He heard a splash and ignored it, keeping his eyes closed and breathing meditatively, spacing out his breath into three intervals of five seconds: five second inhale, five second hold, five second exhale. He was always alone here, the splashes always being a small animal or a twig falling in.

Being lost in the crystal-clear air of the mountains had its perks, one being that rarely did he encounter anyone. No one to ask who he was, why he was there, where he was going to, who he was running from. He never had an answer for those questions, or at least never a good one.

Never having to introduce himself, never having to actively be himself... The feeling erupting in his chest, like he had been uplifted from the ancient curse, like the weight of eternal and immortal expectations had dissolved like acid kissing skin... A taste of freedom.

It could only be made better with the company of select friends, the presence of certain family, the close shared proximity with the love of his life.

He thought of her... of leaving her behind. It was inevitable, and he was searching through his dreams for some solution to stop it, to live on by her side. His attempts felt futile, and as he sat in the most beautiful place alone, wondering if maybe he’d end up wasting the rest of his time cluelessly searching for a way to extend it, instead of spending it with her and everyone else too.

He used his forearm to wipe the water droplet from near his chin. Another perk of the sauna is, if it was hot enough, the sweat was indistinguishable from the tears.

*********

Eren had been feeling particularly dirty today and he'd had an awful premonition that were getting more horribly more vivid and despite Erwin and Hange's disapproval Levi still used Eren as titan-target practice. So it was a long day, and he really wanted nothing more than to hurry to the hot springs.

But Mikasa had insisted on visiting the replacement graves for their parents today, citing that it might be the last time in a while before they can visit again, and only Eren knew just how correct that statement was.

They were silent on the walk there, their bodies actively fighting the magnetic pull between their fingers as they walked.

At the grave site, they had become aware of the temperature drop, and Mikasa started shivering slightly, her muscles too fatigued from training to resist the cold.

He draped his sweater over her arm, his hands lingering on her shoulders as he thoughtfully placed the fabric in a way to keep her warm. The touch from his hands was warm enough, the area instantly heating up her skin and radiating throughout her body.

It was the walk around the cemetery, no particular destination, when Mikasa finally broke the silence: "How are you doing, Eren?"

He stopped walking momentarily, the question catching him off guard. He thought about what he was doing all the time; never how he was doing. Did he even want to burden her with that?

Was there any point in lying? This was Mikasa, she knew so much about him she could likely tell if he were lying from the sound of his voice.

And yet she trusted him so deeply she’d also reject that.

She stopped a couple paces in front of him and turned to face him. He debated how much to divulge. The details were long and nuanced and boring and he was still sorting them out.

“I'm... adjusting," Eren answered neutrally after pondering. Mikasa eyed him carefully, squinting as the final ray of golden light struck her face, lighting up her eyes.

He smiled lightly as he stared her, heat erupting from the center of his chest and spiraling out like an untamed fire. He suppressed the forming tears in the corner of his eyes, blinking them away. He always did think she was beautiful. He never told her that.

Maybe he should tell her that. "I'm happy right now." He smiled softly. With you.

She turned around to face ahead. She was skeptical, but she also doubted that skepticism, leaving her at a crossroads. He felt the stinging signal spread to his tear-glands, forcibly swallowing to take his mind off the sensation. "That's good. Maybe we should visit here more." She started walking again.

Maybe it was because deep down he wanted her to know that despite everything, he was still human, and he still needed joy and relief to survive; maybe it was because he wanted the most serene place in the world to be her surviving memory of him; maybe it was because the weight of the world was crushing him and the strongest soul in existence stopped in front of him and he so desperately didn't want to be alone.

Eren took a rushed couple steps and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to a stop and causing her to twist her body to face him. "I want to take you somewhere. Come with me."

He didn’t wait for a response, just started leading without looking back to see if she truly stayed. She followed Eren to the mountains obediently, asking questions at first but stopping after becoming frustrated with Eren's cryptic answers. This place was sacred, exposing this place meant exposing his remaining solitude, his last freedom. Or maybe she'd be the spoon making it easier to taste.

When they'd finally arrived, Eren quickly rushed Mikasa through the main entrance and out the back. Mikasa was confused as there was little time to process her thoughts and surroundings, but she was amazed at how comfortable Eren was here, that alone was strikingly obvious.

He brought her to his most frequented spring, his favorite because of how isolated yet comforting it was. The enclosure was small and warm, moss covering the rocks and wisteria--fake, maybe--hanging between. He stopped in front of the open door and held his arm out, gesturing for her to enter. She did, glancing around in wonder, still taking it all in.

"A hot spring?" Mikasa asked, turning around to face the doorway. "This is where you come every day." It was more of a processing statement than a question and it didn't necessarily require an answer, but Eren nodded anyway. His future and dreams were cloudy and ambiguous; he didn't want tonight to be.

He started taking his shirt off, already warming up from the steam accumulating in the loosely closed-off room. "I love it here," he answered quietly, eyes gazing around the room, noting the small differences from yesterday. He moved on to remove his shorts.

Mikasa's face erupted into various shades of pinks and reds, her eyes widening slightly and fixating on Eren's eyes, biting her lip to relieve the tension from holding her gaze above his sculpted collarbones.

He shifted slightly to pull the short off his foot and Mikasa's eyes glanced at the glistening sweat forming on his sharp collarbones, pointing like an arrow towards the tough ridges that make up his abs.

She licked her lips, catching glimpses of his firm ass as he stepped into the spring, wading to the middle where it reached his naval. She gulped harshly as the water kissed up his thighs, instantly hugging his skin.

"I can't describe it," Eren sighed, running his hands over his face and letting the hot water forge different trails to his chest, his brown hair turning black as it absorbed the water. Mikasa's eyes followed the sweat traveling down his chest, watching it culminate into the reflection of the same site and watching the process in reverse. "You have to try it, Mikasa."

She pursed her lips, hesitant, before complying by slowly undoing the buttons on her shirt. She could feel Eren's eyes on her, intensely watching the finite movements of her fingers caressing the button, and she felt the heat rising to her cheeks. The thought of asking him to do it for her crossed her mind.

She shrugged off the top and her hands moved to the buttons on her pants, surprised at the increased breathability for her skin. Mikasa briefly caught Eren lick and bite his lip as he kept his eyes trained on her hands.

Eren waded closer, the water line settling now just above his hips. The water lapped at the paler skin, inching threateningly closer to where his cock was starting to harden. His breath hitched at the sight of her bending over to pull the pants over her knees, her cleavage rounding and the weight of her boobs distorting the structure, starting to fall out of the bra.

He kept his eyes fixed on her chest, fully aware of her gaze on him, as she started to stand up and stepped out the pants, leaving them on the floor.

She placed her hands delicately on the thin straps of her lace panties, and she was secretly psyched at her bold choice this morning. Eren stepped forward, the water loudly splashing out of the way, a splash lapping at her feet.

"Wait," he said quickly, "wait." He looked up at her from in the pool, the water to his knees. He held one hand up to her. "May I?" There was a hopeful rejuvenation sparkling in his eyes, an unspoken promise on his tongue.

His hands were inching towards her hips, giving in to an unseen magnetic pull, like he already knew she'd say yes. She'd paused in disbelief, her body becoming unbelievably warm. "Mika?"

As soon as the breathless "Yes," landed in one ear, Eren's hands snapped to her hips, holding the thin delicate fabric so tightly in his rough hands. His palms and forearms rested against the length of her thick thighs, the fading light still highlighting the muscle.

Eren took a slight step forward, disturbing the peace of the water and pressed his face to her crotch, still clutching onto the panty straps, like he'd drown if he let go. Eren inhaled deeply, a shiver ran down his spine and pulsed right to his cock because she smelled so, weirdly delicious.

He swallowed the saliva building on his tongue and rested his chin just above the top panty line. He stared up at her to find her staring at him, both hands reaching to his hair for stability. He could feel her heart beat to the pelvic muscles; she could feel the panty fabric dampen.

His throat was dry and he was at a loss for words as he stared at her and slowly started tugging down the straps. He stopped when the fabric had bunched just above the lips, letting them teasingly peek out at himself, and he licked his lips. Eren bit the fabric quickly, pulling back, looking up to make eye contact with it in his teeth before abruptly letting it recoil back and roughly yanking the rest of the panties down.

His hands immediately wrapped to her butt cheeks, grabbing one in each hand, like they were his new life support in the still pleasant waters. Mikasa moaned as he fondled the skin, grabbing and folding the soft flesh in his strong, rigid grip.

Meanwhile his mouth pressed kisses like it was paying a nonexistent fare as his mouth ventured lower, lips meeting lips. Her soft gasps served as conductors, waving him on. He sucked firmly, licking out exploritorily, smirking as his tongue registered the taste of her.

Eren lowered one hand from her ass cheek to between her thighs and swirled his thumb in the fluid. She was more wet than the steamed air.

He smirked at the gasp Mikasa released as his thumb cautiously pressed between the labia, his tongue following his finger and his mind making mental notes of where he'd touched that she was the loudest.

His thumb slid easily on her wet skin, alternating pressure with light thin tongue flicks or hard flat licks. Butterflies and extreme heat erupted in her stomach, spreading across her body like wildfire instantaneously.

"Oh, Eren!" she moaned loudly, clutching onto his scalp and pushing her weight onto him slightly, her knees wobbling from the pleasure.

Eren firmly grabbed one thigh in his hand and guided it to rest on his shoulder, his other hand supporting her standing leg. He supported her weight and she pressed into him and tightened her thigh to his face as he continued to lick hungrily at her clit, happier with this angle, with the weight of her thigh against his cheek.

After a few moments he smacked her cheek and pulled his head away, staring up at her with shiny eyes and a moist mouth. “On the ground,” he ordered.

Mikasa instantly obeyed, scampering onto the cold stone ground and sitting down. She hummed as the strangely cool rock soothed the hot stinging of the smack.

He leaned over her a heart’s beat later. Within seconds he was hovering over her legs, manhandling and kissing up her thighs, biting at the skin and licking to make up for it.

Eren moaned when he tucked his nose to her pussy and delicately touched his tongue to her clit again, his hands gripping her thighs that squeezed together, blocked by his head, pressing against his cheeks instead.

The pleasure went on for minutes, the sound an ungodly symphony, before the skin became too raw and too sensitive and Mikasa had to push his face away.

She was aching to catch her breath, her chest heaving, her heart racing, her pulse electrifying. He was smirking at her, also breathing deeply, like he were willing to sacrifice air to drink more of her. His eyes sparkling like he were staring at an angel; she was shining with a halo of sweat and condensation.

Mikasa opened her mouth to say something, barely got the semblance of an “I” out when Eren had lunged to her, the magnetic pull becoming too overwhelming to ignore anymore. Their mouths collided, his hand reaching out to hold her in place, and it felt like the steam from the sauna had penetrated their barriers.

She had moved to hover over his lap, lower thighs kissing but upper thighs barely touching, yearning out and aching to close the space. Eren’s hands were too busy exploring her breasts and upper back to pull her closer, and he was too overstimulated to focus on the drops landing on his hard cock, the mixed droplets of his saliva and her discharge.

Eren’s brain was short-circuiting: there was too much of her to focus on, and there were so many sensations of her skin of his to process. She was overwhelming.

Eren loudly moaned when her hand shyly reached for his cock, confidently gripping it yet stroking it coyly. The contradictory strokes sent electrifying waves of pleasure to his brain, pumping more blood back to his cock so he could feel it more.

The noises blissfully slipped out of his mouth as she tugged on him, kissing and nipping softly at the skin on his neck while bouncing lightly on her knees, letting her clit just grace his tense thigh, the ghostly friction teasingly divine.

When the heat boiling inside became too much and the heat from the moist air made the sweat stick to his skin, Eren roughly gripped her bum with both hands and pulled her onto her lap.

She fell into him, yelping at the sudden motion then quickly moaning at the friction between her wet clit and his thigh, the moist sheen between causing her to slide towards his crotch, his hard cock upright wedged between their abdomens.

He waited until she made eye contact before kissing her, brushing a strand of hair from her eyeline then holding her neck. He used his other hand to guide her hips as she rocked back and forth, both of them moaning softly into the other’s warm mouth.

Mikasa used her hand to lather his cock in the wetness that had gathered between her legs, the mixture of sauna steam and sweat and saliva and fluid. Eren’s eyes screwed shut and his face twisted in pleasure at the movements, pulling away from the kiss and softly moaning her name, his grip on her skin tightening.

The steam was infiltrating his mind, he could feel the water lift the weight of everything despite the very real muscular weight shifting in his lap. He felt the buoyant feeling in his chest, lifting the shackles.

“Mikasa,” he started softly, tears welling into his eyes, “whatever happens…” He tucked his nose into her neck, unable to look at her. A hot tear slid down his cheek. The words choked in his throat, making it hard to breathe.

Her hand firmly gripped his cheeks and forced him to look at her. She was smiling so softly, a look that made the warmth of the sauna air around them feel cold. Her thumb unknowingly wiping away the tear.

“I know, Eren,” she replied soothingly, rubbing her thumb once or twice against his cheekbone. “Me too.” He returned her smile before she kissed him gently, slowly, so slowly Eren wondered if time had been paused. “Always,” she murmured against his lips.

“Always,” he whispered quickly in agreement, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed.

She lowered onto his cock, the explosive burst of electricity inside drastically drowning out their quiet tones, amplified the feeling ten thousand-fold.

Eren’s lips hovered over her chest, panting, periodically pressing kisses or nips to the goose bumped skin. He pawed between her bum and hips as he rocked his hips in rhythm with her bounce, drinking in her loud moans.

The motion was slow, not greedy like before. The kisses were softer and more tender, the touches were longer and warmer. The pleasure felt amplified somehow, like the crowded steam air made it impossible for it to evaporate, keeping it condensed inside them, making every touch and every movement and every kiss feel so much more powerful.

He gently rolled them over, carefully placing his hand behind her head to prevent it from hitting the hard rock.

Her nails clawed into his back, breaking through the steam-heated skin but stopping at the strong muscle, leaving raised red reminders for tomorrow.

He thrusted in and out, slowly, taking his time, like he had all of it in the world. Mikasa’s fingers clawed at his pecs with one hand and the other grabbed a fistful of Eren’s overgrown hair, dragging him closer.

When the sensation in her pelvis spread to the rest of her body and her toes started to curl, she wrapped her arms underneath Eren’s shoulders and held him close, eliminating as much of the distance between their skin. The sweat acted like magnetic glue, pulling and sticking their bodies together with intricate forces.

She moaned loudly and unapologetically, taking each thrust as he whispered compliments and novelties in her ear, telling her she looked so gorgeous like this, being fucked by him.

She was too breathless to tell him he looked and felt godly, hand crafted by a higher power. She worried he’d laugh at her anyway.

Eren was rapidly approaching his climax, and from the way her thighs clenched around his waist—so tight practically preventing him from moving—he could tell Mikasa was too.

He pushed deeper, fighting against the strength of her thighs around him to pull out ever so slightly and using even more force to push deeper inside. Only two hard pumps and he came inside her, Mikasa still grinding herself against his overstimulated cock, causing him to choke out her name and jerk his hips back, which her hips instinctively chased.

Her thighs loosened around him and he slipped out. He layed onto the cool stone and pulled her into his arms, resting her head onto his chest, her skin hot and red and sweaty.

He stared at the wooden ceiling, wondering if his vision was so blurry because of her or the steam. He closed his eyes. He didn’t even care if it was blurry. He was in his favorite place with his favorite person, living in his blissful freedom.

She lifted her head a little to look at Eren, their eyes and lips aligning. “Mikasa… I…” She stared at him with a happy, cozy smile, like the ones they’d wear when they snuggled with his mother by the fireplace when they were kids—at home.

The words choked in his throat. Tears welled in both their eyes, but her expression didn’t waver. He kissed her instead, mouthing the words into her mouth, etching them inside with his tongue.

He relaxed into her touch, fell into her intoxicating kiss all over again, when she carved the reciprocal sequence of letters into his mouth.

Love you.

[sexlapis]

-> to take a life

❀ : levi ackerman x reader

ᨳ  ࣪ . cw : gender neutral! reader, reader almost kills someone, levi does kill that someone, descriptions of blood & murder, angsty, hurt/comfort (kinda), implied age gap, vomit, hyperventilation, levi being soft for reader, levi comforting reader in his own levi fashion, idiots in love

ᨳ  ࣪ . summary : reader almost kills someone and is sad. levi comforts them in his own disturbing way.

wc : 1k

a/n : this is vry late but thank you all for over 1,000 followers :) i typed this up very quickly. i just had to get it all out bc i am in my levi phase again. he is so papa ♡.

*

ringing is all you hear. your body trembles and shakes, gasps and short breaths escaping your dry mouth.

tears blur your vision as you stare at the now almost lifeless man before you, lying limp on the ground. blood flows out of his mouth as he gurgles, pools next to his body, coats his shirt, his eyes still wide open. a shocked expression on his face.

your fingers twitch and you drop the bloodied sword from your hand and fall to your knees. your hands are stained red. now and forever.

heat curls from your stomach up to your throat, and before you know it, bile and acid is rushing out from your mouth and splashing to the floor, next to the man you have just near slaughtered. you gasp, heave and groan, crawling backward and away from the consequences of your actions. you’re on the crisp of hyperventilating.

a hand grasps your should from behind and you jump violently. on instinct, you grab the hunters knife strapped on your hip and swing behind you aimlessly. the person grabs your wrist and stops you with no effort at all. your weapon falls from your clammy palm.

“hey! calm down, cadet. it’s just me.”

you know that voice. your captain. levi.

you turn to face him. he looks relatively unharmed and unphased.

levi stares at you, his silver eyes concerned. you must look like hell, rogue painted on your face, and face wet with tears and snot. then his eyes look behind you. at the man you had stabbed repeatedly. who’s life was fading away quickly.

the tears are uncontrollable as you choke out, “i..i killed him. i killed him! i had to..i couldn’t..”

you look behind you and look at the dying man, mumbling incoherent gibberish to try and justify your actions. levi stays quiet.

you’re trying to process what’s just happened before levi takes your forgotten knife into his own hands and stalks up to the half-dead man.

levi kneels down beside him at his head. the soon to be corpse gargles and garbles, trying to lift his hand up. then levi is shoving the knife into the man’s throat. turns it half clockwise to ensure he’s finished the job.

you gasp, covering your mouth. your heart skipping at the display of violence. you knew levi was ruthless and was only doing what was needed, but you couldn’t help your reaction. you weren’t used to this, not like everyone else on the squad was. you would never get used to the bloodshed, the death, the gore. your heart couldn’t handle it.

“you didn’t kill it. i did.”

he says it so casually. like it means nothing. dehumanises the person too. this must be his sick, odd way of trying to make you feel better.

‘no you didn’t kill him. you injured him to near death, with no chance of recovery. i just finished him off. don’t worry about it.’

levi is familiar with this. violence, murder. he justifies it like he has his entire life. he is doing it to survive.

he kneels down in front of you. you’re staring at the floor, almost sobbing again. levi sighs.

to be honest, levi knew you were too soft for this life. he’s surprised you’ve even made it this far. he expected you to have quit or have been dead by now. but he’s not going to lie to himself and say he had no part in how you’re alive today. he won’t lie to himself and say that he doesn’t keep an eye on you more than the others, no matter how guilty that makes him feel. always watching out for you. more protective of you than anyone else. he can’t help it. levi’s fond of you. you softened his old, stone, ancient heart. just a little.

but now isn’t the time for heartfelt confessions. he’ll justify your actions like he justifies his own.

“look at me.” levi commands. when you don’t look up, he repeats himself, softer this time. “_____, look. at. me.”

you whimper and sob a bit and look up at him, eyes red and teary.

“you killed somebody. yeah, you have blood on your hands..but you only did what you had to. you killed him because you had to survive. it was either you or him.” he speaks firmly. “you’ve killed now. and you will kill more. there’s no way around it.”

but i’ll try to take the burden for you as many times as i can goes unsaid.

you whine sadly at the truth of his words. you wish it didn’t have to be like this, but what you want does not matter. you have to do what you must to survive in this world.

“understand?” levi asks, surprisingly gentle.

his change in demeanour should’ve shocked you more, but you’re not. not really. you can’t act like you don’t notice how much more gentle levi is with you. you just assumed it was because you were young, the youngest on the team, more sensitive. you’re not so sure now.

“mhm-hm.” you nod, sniffling and shaking the dizziness from your head.

levi hums and stands. “good. now wipe your fucking nose. jesus christ.”

there’s the levi you know and love. you’re too tired to laugh, so you just huff in slight amusement and wipe your face with your sleeves as best as you can.

“can you stand?”

you nod quickly and attempt to stand on your shaky legs. levi softly grabs the side of your arms and helps you to stand. he briefly caresses your arm with his thumb.

you take some shaky deep breaths and clear your throat.

levi waits patiently until you’re finished calming down. he keeps his hands on you.

“you ready?”

you nod in affirmation. you’ve been doing a lot of nodding.

levi nods once and he’s already walking, guiding you in front of him with his hand on your back. “let’s get out of this shithole.”

[fevers-and-emeto-oh-my]

Because disastrously sick men wearing suits is one of my favorite things, and stranger caretakers is another one of my favorite things, have this scenario:

Character A is attending a meeting for a department on a different floor of the building he works in. It’s a sizable company, so it’s not possible to know everyone. Once the meeting is over/breaks for lunch, A stops in one of the bathrooms to take a piss, wash his hands, freshen up a bit. The bathroom is silent and A is positive he’s the only one there as he relieves himself and then washes his hands and messes with his hair in the mirror.

Then there’s an absolutely ear-splitting retch, the kind that sounds like it’s been pulled right out of the pit of your guts and grates your throat in a way that’s sure to make it sore later. A freezes, staring at himself in the mirror for a minute as he tries to decide what to do.

Then there’s a second equally-rough retch, a heavy splattering of liquid against liquid, and a very sick-sounding belch. A turns around to find that the farthest stall door is shut, and when he steps closer he can see the soles of dress shoes and the ankles of gray slacks of whoever’s kneeling on the floor.

“Are you...alright?” A asks hesitantly. He has no idea who it is that’s hurling--it could be anyone from the meeting he was just in, or it could be someone from elsewhere on the floor or the building.

There’s a burp and a short splash in response, and then Character B clears his throat. “Fine. Got it handled.”

The terse tone of his voice is ruined by how hoarse and thready it is, underscored by panting breaths and a grating gag. A doesn’t recognize the voice. He’s hovering near the stall, not quite sure if he should say anything else, when there’s the sound of B blowing his nose and the toilet flushing, and then the door swings open and they come face to face with one another.

A and B both recognize each other just from seeing one another around the building during work, but they don’t know each other’s names. A can’t help wincing, because B looks terrible. There’s a ring of sweat around the collar of his dress shirt, and his tie and jacket are both askew. His face is ashen pale, covered in a clammy sheen, and his eyes are the glossy bright of a fever. He’s glaring at A like his life depends on it, but it’s undermined by his visible trembling.

“Can I help you?” B asks with a voice that sounds totally wrecked by stomach acid.

A feels his ears go red, but his voice gets caught for a minute, taken aback by B’s surly attitude. “You sound rough. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to keel over.”

“I don’t know you,” B says shortly, heading for the sinks and washing his hands as if nothing’s happened. “The concern is appreciated, but not necessary.”

A can’t help but scoff at that. B somehow has gotten even paler, holding onto the sides of the sink with both hands and bowing his head. 

“You must be fun to work with if you have this much of a stick up your ass even when sick,” A comments. “I was just trying-”

A cuts himself off with a yelp, because B’s knees seem to buckle. A grabs him under the shoulders, but B’s head lolls and to A’s utter horror and dismay, he passes out completely and his dead weight nearly topples them both to the floor.

B’s out for less than a minute, coming around with a groan, head rolling against A’s shoulder. He bats A’s hands away, and they scowl at each other.

Does A drive B home himself, after finding out from his boss where he lives? Does he take B back to his own office, or to A’s to rest a little? Does B give up the attitude for long enough to let A be helpful?

I do also like thinking about this scenario in a scat or both ends scenario, but I’m not sure what the climate is on that so decided to just do the emeto for now XDD 

(PS. If you write something using this, tag me not even for credit but just because I’d be dying to read it XD.)

[arcade-chaos]

Promptober 1: Sugar

Decided to do one of these for the first time!

Sun x Reader x Moon, 1448 words, they/them/Y/N for reader, forehead kiss is the most romantic it gets :3 enjoy!

“Yo Y/N!” One of the teens barked from across the employee lounge, despite the smallness of the space. 

“What are you hooligans up to?” They hummed, eyeing the cup they were all gathered around wearily. They didn’t know how they ended up being so popular with the young crowd- though it was probably because they were the least likely to yell at them for mistakes, and offer them rides home, and comp their food if they forgot their wallets- okay ya maybe they did know. 

“Wanna try some battery acid?” 

“What.” Kyle looked up with a wide grin, gesturing to the acidic green ooze in the cup.

“Battery acid!” 

“That clarifies nothing.” 

“Okay so-” ohhh boy “you get a monster-”

“Green apple-” 

“And a bunch of sour candy-”

“And some nerds!”

“And some nerds, and you mix it all together!” 

“... Is the point to throw up or something?” He shrugged, slipping one of the extra sour worms into his mouth.

“I dunno, I saw it on tiktok. Wanna try?”

“Are you making me the guinea pig? Who else has tried it?” None of them raised their hands. 

“... I’ll give you 20 bucks if you slam at least half of it.” Rachael piped up suddenly. The promise of a free lunch made the cup look no less rancid.

“40.” They bickered for a moment, each digging through their wallets until a pile of bills was on the table. With a sigh they poured half of it into a new cup grimacing at the chunks of gummy worms and undissolved nerds that splashed into the bottom. “Chunks too?” They all nodded. 

Swallowing their pride, and the sour pang in the back of their throat, they slammed it back. They got a few gulps before coughing, pulling away to cringe at the taste coating their mouth.

“Fucking hell-” 

“Language-” One of them teased, pointing to the daycare badge that hung around their neck.

Y/N stuck their tongue out and swallowed the rest, crunching the last few bits with a disgusted grimace. They grabbed the bills and quickly stuffed them in their pockets before running over to the sink to stick their head under. 

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever done. And I went to college.” The teens snickered, now shoving the other cup amongst themselves to goad the others into a sip. “I gotta go work now. Don’t let Gwen sniff that or she might actually keel over from a sugar rush.” They waved goodbye and half heartedly hummed affirmations, now more interested in Lilly’s cautious sniffing of the cup. 

The walk to the daycare was uneventful, though their stomach swam with quiet threats. 

“Hh…” The daycare was loud, kids running amok as the daycare attendant and the morning shift struggled to keep them contained. 

“Oh thank god-” Stacy wheezed, buckling over the desk as three kids screamed by.

“That bad huh?” 

“Tiny terrors.” She hissed, putting on a false smile as Sun squinted at her. “Todd got into the slime and started hitting kids with it, Rene is missing her blanket, and for the life of me I cannot find Freddy’s toy dog anywhere!” They nodded and glanced up towards the structures, noting a little brown paw poking out near the top of the structure.

“Ya Paula likes to chuck it up there. I’ll get it for you, you can go if you want.”

“Really?” She tried to hide the excitement in her eyes. “I mean it's a mess-”

“Eh, I can deal.” Their blood was rushing fast, glancing around at all the kids. They could keep up, it would be fine. 

“Thanks!” They hardly noticed as she grabbed her coat and high tailed it, instead focusing on Sun who was comforting one of the kids. He glanced at them with a nod as they ran up the structure, grabbing the foot of the toy before jumping back. 

“Mr. Sun!! L/N climbed on the playplace!!” Kennedy cried, nearly getting knocked over by some kids who they hoped were just playing tag. 

“Thank you Kennedy! I told them it was okay, just this once!” Sun sung, sighing in relief as they handed the dog over to the sobbing boy. 

“There there friend! See, he’s okay!” Freddy’s sobs quieted down as he held his toy tight, glaring at Paula who sat in timeout with a few other kids. 

“Why don’t you see if Roger wants to play house?” They suggested softly, pushing him towards the quieter area of the daycare. Sun huffed as soon as he was out of sight, glancing over his domain nervously. 

“You okay Sunny?” He whined and nodded, tapping his foot against the ground. 

“Naughty kids, too many little hands today. So so happy you’re here though Starshine! Sorry I didn’t get to say hello!” They shrugged, bouncing on their toes as he glanced at them with a hum.

“What?”

“You’re… bouncier than normal.” He commented, following them as they headed towards the open area in front of the desk. 

“I feel pretty good today, that’s all.” Sun nodded slowly, cut off by another scream from across the daycare. 

“Be right back!” He barked, taking off through the maze of kids and toys. Instead of settling by the desk they walked, darting around kids and checking over the areas where Sunny couldn’t be. Most of the kids were calmer as the day went on, leaving them restless and bouncy. By the time they crossed paths with Sun again all the kids were either drawing or playing with some of the calmer toys, though a few were looping around the slide.

“Sunshine?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re shaking.” They paused, glancing at their hands. They were stuffed with craft supplies, and notably trembling. 

“Oh.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay? What did you have for breakfast?”

“Just a leftover sandwich… I slept well too before Moon butts in.” Sun snorted, pulling the bucket away from them gently.

“Maybe you should go sit until nap time hmm? I’ll call if I need you.” It was clear from his body language there was no argument to be had, so they trudged back to the desk. While they were there they could at least do some paperwork. 

None of it held their attention for long enough, soon there were half filled out forms and scratched up lists littering the desk. They snapped up as the lights dimmed, startled Sun hadn’t called them to help the kids.

“Shh…” Someone pushed them back down into the chair, Moon’s hands rubbing little circles into their shoulders. “Relax.”

“Don’t you want help with the kids?”

“I want you to rest, starlight.” He hummed, placing a water bottle from god knows where on the desk. “I’ll be back in a few.” The lack of light soothed their pulsing temples, aided by some pain meds someone had stashed in the locked cabinet. They could hear Moon’s voice across the way, soothing the kids to sleep with one of the many princess story books. Their stomach growled as they glanced at the clock- almost time for lunch. The door creaked open as Rachael snuck in, eyeing the scene as they made it to the desk. 

“Hey, here to relieve you. I’m sure you’re probably feeling sick by now.” She whispered, squinting into the darkness to find a familiar set of red eyes. 

“Thanks.” 

“Now why,” Moon started, snorting as she yelped away from where he had snuck up “would starlight be feeling sick hmmm?”

“Uhh-”

“Moon, play nice.” Most of the staff was weary of him, but the teens were usually the least jumpy. They were more likely to tease him in all honesty.

“Hmm.” He mulled over the idea, tapping his faceplate as he squinted at her.

“I um, I may have made them drink battery acid?”

“You didn’t make me-” they ignored the way Moon jerked, waving his concerns away. “It’s just some energy drink thing they were making-”

“I did bribe you into it though-”

“Well I said yes-”

“Still, I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry Moon.” Moon squinted as she shuffled, eyes down. Y/N not to subtly gestured to her, raising their eyebrows as the night attendant shifted.

“... Apology accepted.” He grumbled, clearly not too into it. She smiled anyways, taking over their chair as Moon walked them to the door. 

“I’ll come back and eat with you if you’d like.” They offered, noting the way he hovered close.

“... Please.” He mumbled, knocking his faceplate into their shoulder. “And then you rest. You’re gonna crash.” They hummed and toyed with the end of his hat, swaying as he looped his arms around their waist. 

“Okay.” They pressed their lips to his forehead before backing away, glancing at the desk where Rachael was clearly trying not to oogle. “Be nice for me, nightlight.” His face rotated as he clung to the door, covering his face with his hat.

“Only for you.”

[angstyaches]

thinking about mitsuko and bastian rn 😈

can you write sick bastian with caretaker mitsuko? we’ve never seen him sick before, right? 🍄

Hahaha OOPS, this got long.

Context: Takes place shortly before they become a couple (I thought that would be better, for the ✨angst✨). Also: a gold star for anyone who knows why Mitsuko growls and pulls away near the end 👀

Word Count: 4,700ish

CW: work stress, sickness, fever, dizziness, confusion, vomit, hiding sickness, food description, pining.

___

Sucking in air through a mask – when most of that air seemed to be made of steam – was proving more and more difficult as time went on. Bastian was starting to see stars at the edges of his vision, and it was getting less and less likely that he could keep powering through the ache that was building in his temples. 

Somehow, every time he felt he was about to lose all feeling in his body and black out on the floor, he kept going. 

He wasn’t sure if that feeling was met with relief, victory, or disappointment. 

“Mendoza!” a raspy voice from across the kitchen barked over all of the other noise – the hissing, the crackling, the whooshing, the bubbling. 

Bastian’s skeleton almost leapt out of his skin. For a heavy smoker with bad lungs, Chef Yamashita could make himself heard when needed. 

“I need that sauce now!” 

“Hai, Chef…” A spike of adrenaline made Bastian’s hands move faster. 

For the next twenty seconds or so, his heartbeat was the loudest sound in the kitchen. He blinked and found himself dishing up food with hands that trembled like he was caught up in an earthquake, not in the average Saturday-evening-dinner-time rush. 

As the bowls were promptly swept away, Bastian found himself wondering – with a queasy feeling in his stomach – whether the presentation had been up to scratch. He’d been focusing so hard on not spilling something over the edge of the bowl, he hadn’t paid much attention to how it had looked in the bowl. Oh, well. If he’d fucked something up, the owner would read about it online and Bastian would get an earful later. 

It was, quite simply, not his problem right now. That was all he had, and he clung to it desperately. 

Realising he had nothing to work on for the next few minutes, Bastian ducked away to the bathroom. As rare and wonderful as a toilet break could be, fresh air would have been much more appreciated; unfortunately, the restaurant was on the seventh floor and the only outdoor space adjacent to the kitchen was on the fire escape, and… well, Bastian could do without a bout of vertigo on top of everything else. 

He gulped nervously just at the thought of it, his legs swaying as he pictured himself suspended on nothing but a sheet of metal. 

As soon as he was alone, Bastian tugged off his face mask and gulped at the air. It wasn’t much cooler in here, but it was marginally less humid than the kitchen. In the mirror, his entire face glistened with sweat, beads of it glistening in the thick strands of his beard. He grimaced as he noticed that the mask in his hand was soaked through, almost transparent. He’d need to grab a fresh one at some point. 

Bastian grimaced as he pulled his hand towel out of his pocket and scrubbed it unceremoniously over his face and neck. He ran cold water over his hands and wrists and splashed his cheeks with it. He felt slightly better, his soul no longer eager to evacuate his body to escape the stifling heat. But now that relative silence settled around him, he could no longer ignore the throbbing on either side of his skull, like a big set of tongs was squeezing him and preparing to flip him over. 

He planted a hand on the edge of the sink, not liking how weak his arm felt under the weight of his body. The black lines of his tattoos started to swirl back and forth as he stared at them, so he shut his eyes. 

And that was so much worse. 

Nausea bubbled in the pit of his stomach, hot and acidic, like Bastian had swallowed something nuclear and it was cooking his insides. He threw that onto the ever-growing list of things he just didn’t have time to deal with. 

Any second now, he’d hear Chef Yamashita roaring for him. 

Five more seconds, he told himself, drawing a deep breath and savouring the tepid ceramic against his palms and the muted murmur of activity on the other side of the walls. None of it was particularly pleasant, but he knew he’d miss it once he was back out there amidst the hustle, bustle, and craziness. Five more seconds, and I’ll get back out there. 

___ 

When he finally broke free of the kitchen and started making his way through the cramped, busy dining space towards the elevator, Bastian was just about ready to drop. He almost seriously considered curling up on the floor and going to sleep under one of the tables, just so he wouldn’t have to make the journey home. 

But he forced himself into the elevator and slumped against the wall as the thing moved. His stomach protested at the disorienting shift, and before the doors opened, Bastian had muffled two thick, acidic burps behind his fist. 

When the lift opened and the street came into view, so did a woman with two long, smooth pigtails tied at the crown of her head. She was wearing a pair of silky black shorts, and a cropped, puckered white blouse decorated with frills and bows. Her platform Mary Jane shoes made her look taller than she really was, but Bastian knew she’d still go up onto her toes when she hugged him. 

He started to move a little faster, no longer caring about the dizziness in his head or the lurching in his stomach. He didn’t care about anything then. 

Just Mitsuko. 

She looked up from her phone – knowing her, she’d probably been playing Mario Kart – and her face lit up when she saw him coming. God, she was an oasis in the desert, a cool waterfall in the middle of a damp jungle, and all he wanted to do was lose himself in her. 

“Hello!” She treated him to a gorgeous little two-handed wave. 

Bastian couldn’t even greet her. He just sort of fell against her, scooping her body close to his own. 

“Aw,” she said softly, rocking up onto her toes, just like he’d known she would. 

For a couple of seconds, Bastian was surrounded by pure bliss. She smelled like honey. Did she know she smelled like honey? Did she intentionally smell like honey? 

Then Mitsuko touched her heels to the ground again and freed one arm from the embrace. She seemed to be trying to do something with her other hand. He was in no way ready to end the hug, but it occurred to Bastian that he was pinning her inconveniently in place. 

Plus, it wasn’t fair to subject her to the ungodly amount of sweat that was pouring out of him. He stepped away from her, but she didn’t seem at all disgusted or concerned. After all, it was Japan in August, and Bastian worked in an enclosed, fast-paced environment. With fire and hot water. 

“Here you are. A present.” She handed him a can of his favourite cold coffee – which he immediately lifted and pressed against the side of his neck, all without breaking contact with her stunningly dark eyes. 

“O-oh... thank you,” he said. There was a slight tremour in his voice. He couldn’t recall ever getting emotional over coffee before, but this coffee, coming from her? It seemed to break and heal something in him all at once. 

Mitsuko’s eyelids dipped, and her smile deepened. 

Bastian followed her out of the building, his smile wavering as the outside air hit him in the face and the throat. The sun had gone down, but the concrete and tarmac remembered the heat of the day, and spewed it back up at the people trudging home or to the izakaya. It was so humid, and Bastian was so thirsty, he was certain there was more water clinging to the outside of his skin than inside his body. 

“So, wh-what are you doing here?” 

“I don’t know. I didn’t miss you.” Mitsuko smirked over her shoulder. “I just wanted to take a walk.” 

Bastian hurried to keep up with her energetic pace. Droplets of sweat clung to the back of his neck and his forehead. “Sure you did, cool girl.” 

“And… to get McDonald’s.” 

He fidgeted with the pull ring on the can of coffee she’d given him, feeling the condensation from the metal mingling – but not mixing – with the sweat on his hands. With how his stomach felt, the last thing he would have done after work was drink a coffee. 

But she had gotten it for him. She had anticipated that he’d appreciate something cold after work. Not only that, she had... gone out of her way to see him? She was wonderful. And right now, the coffee was an extension of her, so it would be wonderful, too. 

He cracked the can open and took a short swig. A sickly fluid started to flow into the gaps under his tongue, accompanied by a sharp tingling in his cheeks. 

“How was work?”  

“Oh, just…” Bastian pressed a finger to his mouth as the sweet, milky liquid seemed to stick in the back of his throat even after swallowing twice. He coughed to clear his throat, eyes widening as it occurred to him that he might just throw up from the contraction. 

Thankfully, one more careful swallow got it down, and kept down everything that was already there. The over-production of saliva seemed to fade, too. 

Mitsuko cocked her head as they walked, the slightest concern tugging at her face. 

“It was just… so busy.” 

“Mmm. You look busy.” Mitsuko shook her head at herself. “Mmm? No… dono yo ni...” 

“I look like I was busy?” 

“Yes. You look bad.” 

Bastian let out a weak chuckle. “Mitch. We don’t say that.” 

She turned her gaze up towards him, curious. 

“’You look bad’ doesn’t really mean ‘you look like you feel bad’, it… It sounds the same as ‘you look ugly’.” 

She shook her head and flicked the back of her hand towards Bastian’s torso. When it brushed against his stomach, Bastian had the strong urge to pin it there, imagining that it would soothe the ache a little. 

“You’re handsome,” she said matter-of-factly. “You know this.” 

Bastian almost choked on a sip of coffee. “Do I?” 

“Yes, you do.” 

He tried to mimic the inquisitive look she’d given him a few months ago, which made her crack another smile as she shrugged. 

“You have so many photos of yourself.” 

“I what?” 

“On your smartphone!” 

“Those – I-I – when did you...? Those are for checking my beard after shaving!” Bastian rubbed self-consciously at the side of his neck, instinctively feeling out how bad the stubble below his jawline was. “There are angles you just can’t get with a mirror.” 

“You can delete them after look, then.” 

“Okay, I also like tracking the progress of its growth…” Bastian poked Mitsuko’s shoulder. All he wanted was to keep hearing her voice. In fact, it was possible that her presence – in addition to the fresh(er) air – was healing him a bit, because he couldn’t stop smiling. “And what are you talking about, cool girl? How many selfies do you have on your phone?” 

“They’re for my Insta!” 

“It’s the same thing.” 

Mitsuko shook her head and caught hold of his elbow. “Crazy boy.”  

Bastian felt himself flush. He’d never had any friends who were big on physical contact, but she seemed to feel it was normal and acceptable. He wasn’t complaining; he just hoped she would assume he was sweaty because of the weather, not for some other reason. 

He enjoyed walking with her, and listening to her talk about her day, so much that he didn’t mind walking with his head spinning and his stomach doing flips. He took tiny, frequent sips of his coffee and found it wasn’t so bad. He was thirstier than he’d realised, and it was helping to cool him down.  

His pace did slow, however, as Mitsuko pointed towards the McDonald’s sign. The yellow ‘M’ had no business glowing so brightly amongst the cluster of signs full of kanji that Bastian couldn’t read. Even katakana was proving tricky for him in this state. 

“You... weren’t joking about wanting McDonald’s?” 

“Nope! Do you want something?” Mitsuko asked. 

He peered up into the restaurant. The tills were close to the door, to prioritise takeaways, which made the ten people waiting to order and collect their food seem like a dense crowd. 

Not to mention the smell of potato fries sizzling in oil hit him like a punch to the gut; after being stuck in the kitchen all day, the last thing he wanted was to be surrounded by the smell of food. 

“No, no.” Bastian was trembling, his stomach rumbling uncomfortably. “I’ll wait for you here. I already had dinner at the restaurant.” 

The flicker of surprise in Mitsuko’s eyes made his stomach flutter. 

“Okay,” she said, but she didn’t let go of his arm. As much as he adored being so close to her, Bastian prayed she let go soon, because he was certain that he was going to need to burp in the next minute or two.  

Luckily, she pulled away, blissfully unaware of the chaotic tossing of his stomach.  

“Just a moment.” 

“Take your time.” It was hard not to sound like he was begging.  

He grimaced as he watched her go inside, and let the fake smile drop away as soon as she was gone.  

He took a few steps down the street and sagged against a wall. Traffic noise swirled in his head and seemed to come from all around, not just the road. He felt sweat droplets coarse down through his leg hairs. He had stomach cramps so intense that it was a miracle he’d been standing and walking upright this entire time. 

“Urp – ugh.” Bastian smacked his lips, wishing he could dispel the sweet flavour of the coffee. The last thing he’d eaten had been a portion of fish and rice mid-morning, and on top of everything else, he was tasting it again now. Right down to the parsley seasoning.  

His stomach rumbled again, and he felt the vibrations all the way up in the back of his throat. 

Not good. He’d have to think of some excuse not to keep hanging out with Mitsuko. He needed to get home. He was headed for a disaster, and he’d rather she were nowhere near him when that happened. 

The way she’d looked at him just now... Was it possible that she was feeling something similar to what he was feeling? Not the nausea, dizziness, and general unpleasantness, but... the other feeling? The one that had prodded at his mind, kept him awake, made his heart skip beats, ever since they’d become friends? 

It sounded too perfect to be true. But if there was a chance, he wasn’t about to mess it up. 

“Hey.” 

Bastian jumped, swallowing a mixture of saliva and acid. He smiled weakly at the sight of Mitsuko stepping out of the restaurant. Crap. He hadn’t even had a chance to get any burps up, or to think of an excuse to go home.  

“Hey. That was... quick.” 

“Uh-huh.” She was propping up a paper bag between her belly and her elbow. “It’s called fast food, Bastian.” 

“Yeah, that’s... true.” 

Although Mitsuko was clearly ready to get going, Bastian couldn’t bring himself to hoist his body away from the support of the wall, but he knew he needed to. Mitsuko hadn’t noticed his unusual posture yet – she was busy rummaging in her paper bag for a couple of fries, which she popped into her mouth – but she would, and she’d worry. 

Oh, but the smell of the food was outside with him now, turning his stomach with its aroma of salt and grease. 

A few more minutes, Bastian told himself. A few more minutes, and he could break down. Once he’d made his excuses, he just needed to get to the station, say goodbye to her, get on the train, and get home. 

He could do this.  

He stood up straight with a smile. 

Mitsuko pulled her hand out of her McDonald's bag. She was holding a chicken nugget between her fingers, but instead of bringing it to her mouth, she was extending it towards Bastian. 

"Would you like one?" 

Bastian took one look at the crispy, gnarled coating of the nugget, and his teeth did him the unnecessary favour of conjuring up how the spongy texture of the chicken would feel as he bit through it. 

And suddenly he was bent double, retching from the very pit of his stomach, as Mitsuko tottered backwards on her chunky shoes. 

"Bastian!" she screamed. 

His first instinct was to beg her not to be so loud, not to draw any more attention to them; but before he could say anything, he was doubling over again, his insides roiling and clenching as he dispelled some more thick, orange vomit onto the sidewalk. It splattered out in tiny droplets, speckling the concrete, and Bastian couldn’t help but wonder how many times this particular path had been the victim of someone’s stomach contents. 

Mitsuko had a hand on his back, and she was fretting away in quickfire Japanese that his brain couldn’t even begin to keep up with. It wasn’t until she switched to English again that he began to feel like she was actually speaking to him. 

“Bastian, how long do you feel sick?” 

“I –” Bastian raised his head, and Mitsuko’s face split into two blurry copies of itself. He sagged against the wall again, clumsily sidestepping the pungent puddle he’d created. “Since I – mmph – ”  

He broke off into a wet belch that felt like it had gurgled up from very low in his stomach, even deeper than his belly button. He gently pressed a hand to his queasy gut; he’d resisted doing this so far, but since being humbled by the reality of puking in front of her, he wasn’t so much bothered anymore. 

“I’m s-sorry, Mitch.” 

Her dark eyes widened as she tilted her head, peering up into his face as though she’d lost something in the thickness of his beard or his eyebrows. “Why are you sorry?” 

“I didn’t want you to...” Bastian paused, eyelids fluttering against a wave of vertigo. He held fast against another bubbling belch that tickled his throat, and managed to swallow this back one down. “To see me like this.” 

“Crazy boy. Dousho ka na...” Mitsuko mumbled, rummaging in her handbag for her phone.  

That’s it, Bastian thought, panic seizing hold of his thumping heart. She was surely about to block him on social media, walk away, and never contact him again. And who could blame her? He was a disgusting mess, and she was stunning, elegant, perfect.  

A burning streak of annoyance spliced the nausea for a moment. How had he let himself consider that she liked him? 

He lowered his gaze, and it was then that he realised her glossy platform shoes had been in the splash zone during that second, powerful heave. His sick was streaking against the toes and buckles, and tiny splatters had made it into the white, frilled cotton of her socks. 

Shit. Bastian didn’t often cry – didn't often feel the need – but a sob pressed on his sore, abused throat just then. Either the fever was truly messing him up, or he was in way deeper than he’d even realised. 

She was the coolest girl he’d ever met, and he was a sweaty, struggling entry-level cook with barely-passable Japanese and what was possibly the most toxic-smelling stomach acid on Earth. He wished he could have at least moved away from the mess before collapsing against the wall. 

While Mitsuko was on her phone, the blurry shape of a passer-by caught Bastian’s hazy attention. The person turned their head to scowl at his vomit on the ground, but instead of eyeing him next, they eyed Mitsuko. She was oblivious, still tapping at something on her phone screen, but it made Bastian’s blood boil and his sickly stomach drop.  

Mitsuko didn’t deserve this kind of negative attention. She deserved to wear her pretty shoes and to eat her chicken nuggets in peace. 

Oh, god, those damn chicken nuggets. Even though Bastian hadn’t put one in his mouth, the memory of the thought of the taste and texture rolled his stomach over yet again. He shut his eyes and pressed his lips together in a pitiful show of defiance, even as his body instinctively leaned to the side. The surface of the wall tugged on the fibres of his shirt and felt abrasive against his shoulder. 

“Oh –” Mitsuko exclaimed softly, and suddenly a gentle yet sturdy hand was propping him up by the waist, so that he didn’t slide down the length of the wall and end up falling hip-first into his own sick. “Kawai so, Bastian. Are you okay?” 

He responded with a thick mouthful of bile, noisily ejected. Mitsuko was out of range this time, but even if she hadn’t been, he wasn’t confident that he could have avoided her shoes. 

“A taxi is coming,” Mitsuko said, with a tone so reassuring that Bastian wanted to wrap it around himself. 

“Wh-what?” he stammered, the weight of his own saliva slurring his speech. 

“We’ll take a taxi to your apartment now,” Mitsuko said. “If you are sick tomorrow, we’ll take a taxi to a clinic.” 

A clinic? Through the hellish fever and nausea, Bastian almost chuckled. In his family, a visit to the doctor – or, God forbid, the hospital – was reserved for when someone was literally in danger of dying, not for chills and some tummy issues.  

He knew Mitsuko was bring serious, though, because a few months ago, she had mentioned that her sister Yumi had visited a doctor when she’d had flu symptoms for more than two days. 

What a different world he lived in now. 

“Ah... I think this is ours.” Mitsuko was peering up the street, straining to see around the traffic that had built up at the nearest pedestrian crossing. The hand supporting Bastian’s waist smoothed a little reassuring circle through his shirt. “Ja. Yatte mi you. Are you ready?” 

“Mm,” Bastian grumbled miserably. He was still processing the fact that she was even still here, let along that she was trying to help him.  

Mitsuko wrapped her arms further around Bastian’s waist, tugging him towards her. Lips trembling and legs like jelly, Bastian turned his gaze towards her in disbelief. Was she... trying to make him lean on her? On her, whose head barely crested his shoulders in platform shoes?  

“M-Mitsuko, I’m..” Bastian swallowed, trying not to focus on the churning in his stomach or the fact that she was holding him so tightly even now that he three times sweatier than before. “Too heavy for you.” 

“I’m strong, Bastian. Believe me.” 

In the moment, he found that he did believe her. Not that he had much of a choice. It was her or the wall, and he didn’t quite fancy camping outside the McDonalds’ all night. 

He wasn’t sure if he blacked out, or if the fever warped his perception for a little while, but everything that happened between the sidewalk and the front door of his apartment was a nonsensical chain of confusion.  

He slumped across the back seats and Mitsuko pulled his head to her shoulder; he was almost certain that was real. He hoped it was, anyway. She rubbed his shoulder – probably oblivious to how her touch set his skin ablaze – and whispered reassuringly as he struggled not to vomit on the floor of the car. He was fairly sure that all happened, too. 

But Mitsuko had... Well, she’d said she was strong, but as far as Bastian could tell, she practically carried him all the way from the taxi, up the stairs, to his apartment. She didn’t scoop him up and hold him bridal-style or anything, but Bastian had the faint sense that, while he was leaning on her, she took about 90% of his weight the entire time. Impossible, of course, and therefore almost certainly a fabrication of his overheating brain. 

“Should’ve tidied,” he heard himself mutter as they walked into his one-room apartment.  

Mitsuko blew a little raspberry as she led Bastian, hobbling, to his unmade futon. “It’s nicer than Kaz’s place.” 

He shivered as he lay, getting listlessly lost in the depressing thought that she put him in the same category as her younger brother. 

But then he felt her gently unbuttoning his shirt. He swallowed thickly and tried to remain as still as he could, seated at the edge of his futon while she crouched in front of him. She had seen his bare chest and stomach before, at the beach, but his head felt like it was boiling from the inside as he became more and more exposed. 

Mitsuko then slipped her hands inside his open shirt, brushing the fabric back towards his shoulders, attempting to get it off of him. 

And then she jolted back from him, and let out a deep, animalistic growl. 

A growl? Surely that wasn’t right. Bastian’s brain must have been muddling things up again. Still, he frowned up at her, reckoning he definitely looked as pathetic as he felt. 

“A-are you okay?” he croaked. 

“Yes...” Mitsuko stared blankly into the air, squeezing the fingers of her own hand as though they hurt. “Sorry.” 

She didn’t make another attempt to remove his shirt, or mention it again; something must have distracted her. Bastian was probably reading too much into it, thanks to the fact that his thoughts felt like scrambled eggs. In the end, he shrugged the shirt off by himself and dropped it on the floor. 

He didn’t remove the thick, silver chain that bore his grandfather’s crucifix. He rarely did, unless he was shirtless outdoors, where it might leave an odd tan line. 

“Okay. Lie down,” Mistuko said. 

Bastian did. His pillow case was crisp against his cheek and smelled faintly of plastic; he still hadn’t washed his bedding since buying it. He was suddenly a little self-conscious about how flimsy his life in Tokyo must have looked. He had been so exhausted after work every night that he hadn’t even unpacked all of his boxes yet.  

Anyone might have thought that he was ready to leave the country at a moment’s notice. 

And the last person he wanted to think that was here, nearly over his futon. 

“Kawai sou,” Mitsuko whispered. She brushed a hand over Bastian’s hair, and he honestly thought he might float away to Heaven. Her hand was... shaking a little, but maybe she was just stressed out by how sick he was. “Did you feel sick at work today?” 

Bastian sighed. “A little.” 

Mitsuko shook her head. “A little?” 

“A... A lot.” 

Now it was her turn to sigh. “You work too hard, Bastian. You have so many new things in your life. It’s too much.” 

Bastian felt his lower lip start to quiver. 

“You have to be... kind to yourself,” Mitsuko whispered, with a wisdom and a sobriety that didn’t exactly match her personality. And yet, it seemed as familiar to him as her bouncy pigtails, her teasing smile. 

He reached up to take her hand in his, hoping she could see past the clamminess and appreciate his appreciation of her. She let out a low sound – it could almost have been described as a wince, but again, Bastian could have sworn it'd been a growl – and pulled her hand free, but immediately gave Bastian her other one. 

Odd. But before he could begin to question it, his ears were being treated to her soft voice again. 

“You shouldn’t be alone when you’re sick. Kazuhito is going to bring his extra futon,” she said. “So I can sleep here and be here when you wake up.” 

Bastian swallowed over the pain in his throat. He couldn’t believe he was spending the night with Mitsuko for the first time ever, and he was about ready to black out already. Not to mention he was probably going to sweat himself silly and spew his guts at least once during the night. 

“Th-thanks, cool girl.” 

“You’re welcome, crazy boy.” 

[finniestoncrane]

Great Scott, I just remembered a thought about Twoface, I gotta get it out before I leave for this wedding I have to go to, lest the demons get me or I forget it again.

Reader feeling him…them?…up, right? A remarkable amount of body is inexplicably half-scarred for an acid splash, as is par for the course sometimes. The rest of his skin is soft and unaffected.

The reader works their way to his chest, squeezing and massaging and all, he tries and relaxes into it.

But reader lingers there…weirdly long, just feeling up his chest. No kissing. Not saying anything. Nothing else.

They got distracted from the groping and drifted off into thought, this autistic reader had been using his boobs like a sensory board. They’ve just been enjoying duel textures for… dang…15 minutes idk however long it’d take Twoface/Harvey to realize something’s up.

Anyway, thank you for listening.

ok this has been sitting in here for a while because i was like literally speechless. i can't add anything to this, it's perfect ;-;

anon you got a writing blog??? you writing this kind of beautiful prose regularly and keeping it from us??? cos DON'T!!! gimme gimme gimme

(also i am so weak for body worship and harvey like he deserves it he needs it he wants it)

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Clever Boy

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone (TV) Summary: Something explodes in Wylan's lab and Jesper takes the brunt of it. Wylan would feel less bad if his boyfriend would just take his injuries seriously. Warnings: Minor injuries and implied sexual content Word Count: 993 Ship(s): Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck

Archive link!

“Wy?” Jesper called as he walked down the long hallway that led to the basement room that Wylan had taken as his laboratory. As much as the boy had protested against anything that could be considered against the law or criminal, he had still been experimenting with chemicals and explosions well into his career as a Mercher. Since the substances that he acquired weren’t exactly legal, they had to hide the lab that he worked in. The logical place for that was down in the basement, but it also usually meant that by the time Jesper got down there, he had no patience to listen to anything until he got his thoughts out of his head.

That very thing had led to him almost having acid splashed on him because he had startled his boyfriend, who had thrown the nearest beaker at him. It had also gotten him stomped on, punched, and had the door opened in his face. It was nothing hard enough to even bruise and Wylan had apologized as soon as he was back in his own head enough to realize what he had done, of course.

Jesper was never good about learning his lesson. If he was anyone else, then he would have known to knock before he entered at the very least. He wasn’t anyone else, he was the boy that had nearly lost his father’s his farm by playing a handful of cards too many, he was the boy who had worked alongside Dirtyhands to break into the Ice Court, he was the boy who had been all over Ravka to try and bring down the Darkling. He didn’t care about his own safety and he certainly didn’t learn his lesson.

So as soon as he got up to the door that led to his boyfriend, he grasped the doorhandle and then flung it open with the force of a man on a mission. “Wylan! I need to speak with you about-” he grunted when he felt something searing hot push him back against the wall in the hallway.

He had barely even processed what it was before the heat was burning off the hairs on his cheeks and then melting the flesh from his palms. His ears were the last thing to clock what had happened and he was overwhelmed with the sound of shattering glass and a near-indescribable thrum.

“Jesper!” Wylan almost screamed as soon as everything was over.

The world was shimmering in a black and blue haze as his eyes tried to recover their sight. His ears were ringing so badly that he could barely even hear what his boyfriend was saying, despite Wylan being right next to him. His body felt like he was thrumming with the most beautiful kind of rush, the kind that he had never been able to get from the cards and only from a gunfight. He knew that meant that he was in some kind of shock, but it was so euphoric that he could barely pay attention to that.

“Jesper, are you okay?” Wylan asked worriedly. He brought one of his delicate, Mercher hands down onto his boyfriend’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“I think so,” he grunted as he pushed away from the wall and then up to his feet. He brushed his hand over his clothes to get rid of the dust and glass that had spewed through the doorway moments before. It was only then that he noticed the horrendous way that his hands felt against the fabric. “Ah, Saints above,” he whimpered.

Wylan’s pretty blue eyes went wide with panic when he heard that noise. They had been together for long enough, and had done missions for even longer, that they knew every tell of pain from the other person. Wylan immediately reached out, lean fingers wrapping around the zowa’s wrists so that he could flip them over and see what had happened. He let out a little gasp when he saw the half dozen blisters and angry red that covered his calloused palms. “Jes,” he breathed.

“It’s alright, love, it’s alright,” he replied immediately. It took one look from his partner for him to sink back down into himself. They had had many talks about him doing that, most of them resulting in his brain fluttering with thoughts for about a half hour before they drifted away into nothing. He had always had a bad habit of trying to make sure that everyone around him was happy or pleased about something instead of looking after himself. Wylan also had a habit of hiding his pains or injuries, but he was better at breaking himself out of it since Marya was staying with them.

“I promise you that I’m not making it easier this time. This is way better than the first time that I had a gun overheat on me,” he explained. “I can puncture the blisters when they finish developing and then drain them. This is nothing that bandages and a couple of days aloe won’t fix,” he explained.

Wylan gave him an unsure look, blue irises flickering between Jesper’s face and his hands. “Are you really sure?”

“Course I am. Though this means that if we’re still planning to spend the night together, we’re going to have to have you do all the work. I know how much you like showing off for me though, so it shouldn’t be that bad,” Jesper teased. All of the pain was forgotten when he saw the way that Wylan’s cheeks turned bright red. It was a good way to get both of their minds off of what had happened, and one of the only good uses of Jesper’s sharp tongue. Though at the moment, with sex on the mind, Jesper could think of a couple others.

Before he even had the chance to say as much, Wylan was pulling him down the hall so that they could patch up his hands.

[mysticstarlightduck]

5 lines tag game!

I was tagged by @cowboybrunch for this one, (here) thanks for the tag! I'll go with my WIP "Of Starlight and Beasts" for this one.

Your lines are: a line about fear, an adorable line, a line about taste, a line with an argument and a sarcastic/funny line.

_____

A line about clothes: (context: Nimwen's scarf helps her keep herself grounded after she and Corah are trapped in a cave after some misguided decisions, and they know next to nothing about each other . At this point in the story, Nim still thought they were enemies - and due to her less than ideal past experiences with knights, she was terrified, despite Corah trying to convince her otherwise.)

Silence seemed to eat at her, closing in the trapped, suffocating space of the small cave even more, but she still refused to answer, or even make eye contact with the other girl - Corah, she reminded herself, as an afterthought. A knight 'trying to help', she scoffed. What a stupid notion.

Nimwen's fingers numbly fiddled with the fraying edges of her soft red scarf, twisting and twirling the material, as if in an effort to focus on something else other than a swirl of emotions she was faced with right now. They'd be out of here soon - and that would be the end of it, surely.

This one knight seemed well-meaning, Nim figured. Trusting would be a risk that could pay off. Still, her thoughts could not help but wander years away, to sights of the executioner's blade, the sickening squelch of iron against bone, blood splashed at her feet and gown drenching the fine cloth as she was dragged away into the muted crowd, armored figures - the same radiant symbol on their chest plates - clanking to remove his headless body from the square. She closed her eyes and breathed.

The scarf. Her hand wrapped around it. She was still alive, she was still here - and the past was in the past. Scarlet would be here soon, and all they had to do was wait. And hope all knights were not like the ones in the square.

A funny line

"If that thing ate us, do you think we'd have a slow and painful death digested by the acids in its stomach as our skin melts off and our brains become jelly or would we just get torn apart limb from limb by its teeth first? I bet it's the first one." Masen tilts his head sideways, peeking beyond the rock at the giant, slithering serpent in the snowy chasm below.

The group turns their heads to him in unison, with a varied mix of equally uncomfortable expressions. Corah broke the silence, still whispering.

"I have a better question. Why are you like this?"

Before Masen could answer, his twin piped up, deadpan voice dripping sarcasm "Now you all know what I had to deal with. But can we get off this rocky death trap before the snake decides to turn brother dearest's daydreams into a reality?"

A line with fighting (Argument, not physical)

Eidan's hand trembled, and he closed it into a fist to hide it. His eyes pierced the nobleman's, seeing a mockery he knew all too well. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah, enlighten me then, 'little hero'." The man sneered, looking around the crowded room as if expecting applause or confirmation, as the others erupted into whispers. "Or should I say, disgraceful nephew of a traitor?"

Eidan opened his mouth, then closed it. There it was, he noticed, the familiar burn of humiliation threatening to silence him, again. He knew this guy knew this too, if his seemingly victorious smirk was anything to go by.

There were laughs, and loud, barely hushed gasps. He urged to silence him, to scream and rage at the slight to his honorable family's name, but couldn't find the words to speak. His uncle was really a traitor - a drunken, shameful wretch who left behind nothing but sorrow in his wake. Eidan wished he could say differently, but the what little honor his name had was lost alongside the Duke and his family. His heart wanted to claw its way out of his chest and stop right there.

But finally, the last second, from the corner of his eye, he met Maryon's eyes amidst the crowd. He remembered their conversation, if barely, and managed to mumble out an answer.

"Trust me, I would." He started, at first shaky but slowly gaining confidence. "But not like this. You're not entitled to my past. Plus, now that I think of it, I guess your head is far too deep up your own arse to understand anything either way, you craven excuse for a lord."

"You impudent wretch -!"

The man moved to strike him, and Eidan didn't back away. Thankuly the great hall doors swung open, and a familiar figure clad in golden robes strode in. "You will stop, Lord Berwyl, if you value your neck." She ordered, and half of her personal guards already had their spears turned to the nobleman, who lowered his hand, albeit begrudgingly.

A line I'm proud of

"What is this place?" Corah looked around, brows furrowed. Her hand still rested idly at the handle of her sword - she'd never seen a city like this in any of their travels. It seemed at the same time lively and homely but also ghostly, like something lost in time, never to be found again.

Maryon turned towards her as she started to speak, but continued walking. "This is the underworld of a dead city that is fighting to be revived." She said, plainly. And that was a very accurate description.

All around them, the city - carved into the ground below what once was a beautiful sunlit kingdom - held traces of a past long since gone, but never quite buried or forgotten. Vast statues whose fine details had long since been brushed off by time peeked through makeshift buildings built out of old driftwood. Cramped marketplaces stood in what once was a city square. To the side, she could see the outline of an old temple repurposed as improvised and crowded house of healing. The past and the present, old and new, something of what was forgotten but never quite left.

Corah felt torn - at the same time, this was the hopeful reminder of what simple folk could accomplish by just working together, despite all hardships, but it was also a testament to the wounds her kingdom had accidentally inflicted on others through its inaction in the past. When Idraven fell into the curse and wars, her kingdom stood and watched - and the thought filled her with an anger she never thought she'd feel towards her kingdom's own royalty.

"If we want to venture further into the Crimson Queen's domain this is only the beginning. We need to find whoever runs this place, and quickly" Kyran spoke, suddenly standing at her side. Corah blinked.

She was about to say something in agreement, when Arammys' voice piped up from somewhere behind them. Corah realized that, in this underground's bustling maze, they hadn't paid enough attention as to where they were going.

"...I have a feeling it won't take much longer. Um, guys?"

When she whirled around, she understood what he meant. They didn't need to find the one in charge, because she had already found them. And whoever this young woman was, she didn't seem too happy to find out trespassers from another land had just discovered the hidden entrance to her city. Neither did the five heavily armed guards standing beside this woman, with crossbows aimed at Corah and the others, ready to shoot at a moments notice.

Corah looked at her friends, all frozen in place - their lives hanging in the balance of a stranger's decision. As Corah raised up her hands, in what she hoped was a placating gesture, the young woman stepped forward, though her soldiers remained at the ready.

"I believe there explanations in order, wouldn't you agree?" The young woman spoke. Now that she was closer, Corah could see that she wasn't much older than any of them, though her eyes look as icy as the storms of the Frosts, and her presence was as imposing as that of any battle worn general. Corah maintained her gaze. "You will follow me to my fortress, and there we shall decide your fate. Choose your words carefully - for they might weigh on whether or not I decide to kill any of you. It's a mercy I haven't already."

With that, she turned away and gestured for her soldiers, who moved in unison towards the gathered group, not so gently urging them to start walking in the chosen direction.

"Name's Leora Tallin, and no one gets into my city without my explicit permission. Consider yourselves 'unwelcome', for the time being. Shall we?"

Tagging (gently, no pressure): @agirlandherquill, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @littleladymab, @little-peril-stories, @illarian-rambling, @elshells, @winterandwords, @writernopal, @moonandris, @eccaiia, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @clairelsonao3, @thepeculiarbird, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs, @ybotter, @aalinaaaaaa, @autumnalwalker, @oh-no-another-idea, @cowboybrunch and OPEN TAG

[presidentbungus]

sneak peek at a longfic that will probably never get published😁

“Oh, yeah. Was, uh… god, what was I doing?”

Half-muttered, between clenched teeth, gaze leveled straight down at the mess of intermingling plans, somehow writing as he talks. “Something about formaldehyde, mixing chemicals. Before I wore goggles, drove Radigan up the damn wall, and I put it in the chemical centrifuge and—figured out soon as it started spinning I didn’t actually cap any of the tubes.”

Demo hisses through his front teeth, dissolving into low chuckles. “Oh, you didn’t.”

“Right. And I’m right at eye-level.”

“That’s bad.”

It’s not silent—it’s their voices, and the workshop’s running heartbeat of machinery churning around them, but the scratch of his pencil scrawling over blueprint-paper just feels so loud. “Yeah. That’s bad. So my right eye’s suddenly splashed with just about everything I just put in the chemical centrifuge, and I just feel—burning. Like, jesus, I’m gonna fuckin’ die good lord, and—“

“Can’t be great for you.”

“And it didn’t actually turn out that bad, like i didn’t go blind or nothin’, but for a buncha things my eye kinda stopped working good after that. Y’know when you look through a wet piece of glass and every light outside kinda flares out into these big rotatin’ lines?”

Demo thumps his fingers on the desk. “Ooh.”

“Imagine that, like it’s raining, all the time. And sometimes things just get foggy, and I have a hard time focusing on things up close, and everything. Still manageable, but it’s annoying enough that when grand—Radigan figures out I got anything wrong with me he tells me I’m wasting so much time on something that don’t work, why don’t we… y’know…” His voice draws out, just a little: “Run a little upgrade…”

“And you said yes?”

“Of course I did, what else am I gonna say?” The pencil clenched between his metal fingers abruptly snaps—and Engie gasps, just a little startled, and then mumbles a curse and dumps the jagged halves in a wastebin under his bench. “Didn’t tell my pops or nothin’ ‘til it was already too late of course—same damn thing that happened with my leg…”

Demo lazily takes a new pencil between two fingers from a penholder up against the wall and holds it out, wordlessly.

He snaps it up like a damn alligator. “But the new eye works. He was right, I can make out a dandelion stuck in a sidewalk fifty miles away on a foggy day, and it don’t dry out so I can just scrunch my other eye shut and not blink for hours, and it’s heat-and-acid-resistant and sturdy enough I could drop it off the goddamn Empire State Building and it’d just bounce off the concrete at the bottom—“

“But you don’t—“

“And he was right. He was right about everything else, too. My joints were weak so he made me new ones and they ain’t weak anymore, and it’s—my hand, and my leg, and my ears and my spine and my hip and my fucking eye—“

“Dell.” And it’s like he snaps back into his body, and all of a sudden he’s back in the workshop, and Tavish’s got a calloused hand on his shoulder (and he feels the absence of a middle finger there, resting heavier than anything else), and there’s the shards of another broken pencil all caught in the joints of the Gunslinger. His lungs are heaving. “Let’s take a breath, lad.”

Then it carves down his face, one singular warm, wet line out of the corner of the eye he still has.

“Doin’ nothing for no one gettin’ yerself all worked up,” flatly, but not disinterested, and the worry that gleams in that one golden eye makes him sick to his stomach.

[crisalidaseason]

A retelling of Iron Flame p. 1 - Epilogue

The water trickled down his arms as Liam splashed his face with the cool water, making a mess on the floor. He skipped looking in the mirror right in front of the basin, going straight for the towel nearby - fingers dancing erratically over the fabric. He dressed silently but quicker than usual, not wanting to stay in that room for a second longer in fear he would grow mad - and also to avoid another check up from Aiseregh, Liam could not stand looking into those amber eyes without worrying about the other pair that had not opened yet. Avoiding the man was the only way to keep the waves of nausea at bay.

“Bodhi” Liam said as he opened the door, finding his friend about to knock.

“How are you today?” he asked, a frown of worry between the thick dark brows.

Liam had no idea how he felt. There was a turmoil of emotions behind a dam that he was not sure would hold for much longer. “I’m alive”

Bodhi pursed his lips, but did not comment on the answer “I came here to check if you had the strength to join us today”

“I feel less weak, I can handle walking to the kitchens” Liam let a humorless chuckle out.

Bodhi nodded and both of them walked side by side through the halls of the very house they grew up in. Liam tried to drown any sort of nostalgia from rising, his grief and guilt tainting all of the memories, but it was difficult not to see the ghosts of their younger selves laughing, of officers walking around in synch, the servants constantly organizing and moving. Liam felt his eyes burn and decided to avert his gaze to the ground, though even that was not safe since the patterns of art and runes sparked more memories.

“Liam” a hand clasped his right shoulder “stay with me”

He did not even notice he had stopped walking. Bodhi looked at Liam with a mixture of concern and understanding. He was probably experiencing things on a much worse level considering Bodhi had actually lived in Riorson’s house his entire life. Liam should be the one comforting and not being comforted.

“It’s okay” he barely whispered “let’s keep going”

Bodhi did not push - he never did. Their walk to the kitchens was silent and even the servants working there seemed to catch their emotional distress, keeping their greetings to a minimum. Imogen was sitting alone by the table, her eyes set outside the large windows, towards the mountains.

“Hey” was all she said at the sight of them.

Liam noticed Imogen had a few cuts and bruises on her arms, but seemed fine other than that. Unfortunately, her quiet demeanor exposed the major wound. A wound inflicted in all of them, with no amount of mending or healing to soothe its sting.

“Good to see you standing on your feet, Liam” her eyes scanned him just like he did to her.

Liam gave her a hint of a smile as an answer and sat down at the table, noticing the abundant amount of food. Any other time he would have indulged in the breads, the goat cheese and multitude of grain pastes, the fresh taste of aloe juice - all of it in such a familiar place - but not in that moment. He could feel the acidic liquid burn his stomach at the mere thought of eating.

He did not want to go through that again.

“Liam. You need to eat” a softness Imogen never displayed painted her eyes “please”

He inhaled slowly, trying to stop his fingers from trembling so much as he reached for a piece of bread. He noticed both of his friends had little to nothing on their plates, which made Liam feel less guilty about not reaching for anything else. He ate the bread with none of the joy he had always dreamed of, the taste bland due to his wicked mind.

Fuck, he wished he could stop thinking for a minute.

“Anything from Deigh?” Bodhi asked “Cuir says he’s still in deep sleep but I wanted to ask you nonetheless”

Deigh. Liam felt a tight knot threaten to push the bread out and had to breathe deeply to keep it in. The familiar imagery of his sunroom was covered in a soft light, the bright red sun hiding behind a milky veil of clouds, declaring his dragon’s dormant conscience, keeping Liam from feeling the comforting presence. He could feel their bond as strong as ever, but the hum of Deigh’s voice and attention was nowhere - which made the last two days miserable for him.

“Nothing yet, but he’s safe” Liam managed to reply “I don’t feel him…slipping”

He had to hold back a shiver after recalling the strange feeling. Liam had been too weak to notice it in the heat of battle, but his comatose state sent him straight to the sunroom. The sky above the glass stuck in the moment before dawn but never breaking the dark blue. He had been terrified, begging for the sun to rise again, watching as it oscilated with the vitality of his dragon.

“It’s a good sign, right?” Imogen asked.

Liam could only nod, not daring to say the words out loud in fear the gods may hear and take Deigh from him. Bodhi’s hand on his shoulder was doing nothing to diminish the pool of dread seeping through his mind, but Liam appreciated the gesture by putting a hand on top of his.

“Morning” a third voice called their attention.

He turned to see Garrick striding for their table. The first noticeable thing was the big scar on his face, mended but still pink colored, the second were the dark shadows under his eyes. Liam grimaced at the state of his friend, wondering if he had a moment of peace and quietness these last 72 hours.

“Tavis” Bodhi smiled “you look like shit”

Garrick sat beside Liam, patting him on the back in acknowledgment and giving Bodhi the middle finger.

“Barely slept” he replied “good to see you out of a bed, Mairi”

“Xaden?” Imogen murmured, eyes set on Garrick.

His friend sighed and Liam finally understood the reason for his exhaustion.

“I’ll bring him breakfast soon, so nutrition is covered. He still stinks though, he draws the line at showering”

Despite the attempt at humor, none of them could laugh at the comment. Liam still remembered how much of a mess Xaden was when he first visited the day before. Seeing his brother so lost and distraught - and a friend on the verge of death - was too much for Liam to handle.

“I can keep watch over Violet” Imogen suggested “We can’t have him rot in that room for gods know how long”

They were not able to stop the surprised stare. Imogen had never called Violet by name. Never.

“What?” she snapped at them.

Liam composed his face immediately, not daring to upset their hot headed friend over a topic as sensitive as her shifting feelings over Violet Sorrengail. Liam had grown past that dilemma months ago, had grown to see the younger Sorrengail as a friend, to let the respect and loyalty take root…but he knew the others were new to the feeling.

“We can try to convince him again” Garrick said to her, but soon turned to Liam “you think you could put some sense on Xaden?”

He wanted to tell them that there was no sense to Xaden where Violet was involved, but refrained from doing so. They knew.

“How…” his voice blurted before he could stop it.

Silence filled the air. There it was. The question he avoided the last two days despite his worry and interest in Violet's well being. A question he had not dared to ask Aiseregh - no brother should have to advertise his sister’s health to the person who put her at Malek’s border in the first place.

“Still asleep” Garrick murmured, eyes on his own plate.

Bodhi and Imogen had the same uneasy expression. It seemed the topic was difficult for all of them. Nobody wanted to acknowledge the fact that Violet sleeping for three days was brewing doubt on her recovery.

“I think…” Imogen said “I think he’ll cooperate if you talk to him. You always had a way with him”

Liam felt his throat dry and his heart beat faster than he thought was possible for a human. His friends were looking at him expectantly though, he could not fail them. He could not fail again.

“Sure” was all Liam said.

Their breakfast was quiet after that, with Garrick leaving first to hand Xaden some food and Bodhi to check on his arm. Liam refrained from the offer of checking on his health, he was physically fine after all.

“Come on” Imogen embraced his shoulder “let’s check on Deigh”

The walk to the base of the mountain range was short, but they kept stopping a few times to see the movement of the growing city below. From the last memories of fire and ashes, a spark of joy flickered inside Liam. There was still visible damage, but also wooden structures in the process of being replaced by stone. He saw the shy market flourishing with wheat, oats, barley and potatoes. In the distance, the temple of Amari stood in all its glory despite the ashes that stained the structure. Liam almost considered uttering a prayer, but he could not find it in him to even think of the words, instead choosing to let out a praise in tyrrish - the language rolling off his tongue in a strange and yet freeing manner.

“I know” a rare smile painted Imogen’s face “I was just as impressed”

He felt his eyes burn at her reply, the language so foreign yet so nostalgic to hear. It reminded him of a time that was long lost.

“Let’s go” she insisted in common tongue, as if reading the sudden sorrow of his eyes.

Their walk progressed much faster than before, the base of the mountains growing closer alongside the drop in temperature. Liam had worn a long sleeved tunic, but he could feel the cold air bite his skin- a feeling he was more than welcome to. Liam could see a shape - dark and massive - perched in a more distant range of mountains . It could only be Tairn.

“Most dragons are hunting, but they rotate keeping an eye on Deigh and Andarna”

“Andarna?” he asked.

Imogen’s face did not say much, but the lack of panic and fear relaxed his nerves.

“See for yourself”

They finally reached the top of a hill, the hollowed terrain below held the second pleasant sight of the day: red scales that decorated Deigh’s being. His curled up form made it difficult to check on the wound, but everything seemed fine otherwise, the massive chest moving steadily. Glane was nearby, wings spread over something - as if shielding it from the sun. The orange dragon moved its serpentine head towards Imogen and slowly lifted the wing up, revealing something Liam could never have expected.

“Is that…Andarna?” he mumbled.

He looked at Imogen expecting a denial, but she simply nodded. He turned his stunned face back to the dragons below. The previously golden small feathertail had doubled in size and the scales were black. That made no fucking sense.

“Apparently Andarna was not fully matured” Imogen explained “Resson…”

She pulled at a longer strand of pink hair, twisting it a bit too forcefully in her fingers “The shit show in Resson had something to do with it, Glane did not reveal much. Dragon secret and all”

He nodded, but did not understand a thing. There was almost nothing recognizable about Andarna. Despite the initial shock, Liam remembered how the small dragon simply materialized in the middle of the battle and a feeling of dread invaded his senses. She was essentially a child-dragon then.

“Was she wounded?”

“No” Imogen replied “she’s just very tired, but Tairn and Sgaeyl are not panicking over it. That must mean something”

He watched Glane drape the large wing over the feathertail, keeping her safe from the sunlight. All Liam could think was how Violet would react to that…If she woke up to begin with.

“Let’s approach” Imogen began descending the hill.

Liam followed her and soon he was kneeling in front of Deigh. The dragon’s large frame seemed small curled up in that half-circle shape, his head resting on the ground and wings neatly folded. Sitting nearby, Liam took in the warmth emanating from the magical creature, smiling at the knowledge that his dragon was alive. They both were. For a moment the guilt dulled, letting the relief flood his veins. Deigh remained asleep for the entirety of Liam’s visit, he did not have the courage to reach out through their bond, his dragon needed all the rest necessary.

“Liam…” Imogen struggled with the word.

He looked at her encouragingly, hoping she would speak her mind - she kept too much to herself - but nothing prepared him for the embrace she gave him. He immediately draped his arms over her shoulders, brows furrowing at the odd action.

“I’m just fucking glad you’re alive” she whispered “I thought we would loose you too”

Too. Soleil’s face invaded his mind with a sting. Despite his initial joy at being alive, the poisonous guilt returned in full force. He lived. Soleil died. Liam, a first year with little experience, was alive while Soleil, a skilled third year, was dead.

Zinhal was either a sick fucker or the gods had a worse fate for Liam.

“I’m glad you’re alive too” he mumbled.

Imogen pulled back, her eyes holding the same grief and a hint of relief. He wondered if she also felt ill towards her survival, if the same thoughts plagued her mind in the middle of the night.

***

He hesitated for the third time, his raised hand barely touching the wooden surface of the door. Liam was not sure he could handle entering that room, looking at their faces, but he had promised to try. The knock was soft, but sure heard by occupants inside the room.

“Mairi” said the owner of the voice he was avoiding more than Xaden himself.

Brennan stepped aside for Liam to enter the room, which he did hesitantly. The spacious room was dark, huge drapes stopping the afternoon lights from bathing everything in orange. Xaden was sitting on a chair near the bed…and she was there, still asleep.

“If you came here to ask me to leave, Brennan beat you to it” Xaden’s voice was hoarse “I’m not leaving this bedside”

Brennan shared a look with Liam, his amber colored eyes holding something that resembled the same annoyance you would give to a stubborn child.

“Good luck” Brennan told Liam, then turned to Xaden “I’ll check on her again before bed”

The soft thud of the door closing was the last sound before minutes of silence went by. Liam noticed how Xaden’s shoulders were slumped, his hair a mess of tangles and clearly in need of a wash. Liam felt his guts trembling as he set eyes on Violet. Her small frame was drowning under a thick blanket, her hair loosely braided to the side, the pale complexion less gray than before.

“You’re feeling better?” his brother broke the silence.

Liam hummed a quiet yes and Xaden turned to look at him. If Garrick’s eyebags were deep, Xaden’s had only worsened since he last saw his brother.

“Take a seat if you’re going to stay”

Liam nodded, taking another chair from the large desk beside the bed and sitting across from his brother.

“Did Brennan say something about…” he began, but Xaden shook his head vehemently.

“Let’s not…I can’t talk about this” his voice was strained.

Liam nodded in agreement. Neither could he.

“I went to see Deigh today”

Xaden seemed to breathe at the change of subject.

“How is he?”

Liam shrugged and soon his hands were reaching for his pockets, taking the wooden shape inside it.

“He’s out of danger” Liam replied.

His brother nodded in response. Liam noticed he was playing with a dagger, spinning it and catching it by the blade. A common nervous tell tale.

“Which one?” Xaden asked, pointing with dagger.

Liam looked down at the wooden dragon. It was finished, but he did not have the courage to look at it for the last few days. The usual rush of calmness and peace that came from carving nowhere in sight considering who the dragon was - whose dragon it was.

“Andarna” he answered “though I think it might be outdated now”

Xaden did not laugh, but the tension on his shoulders seemed to ease and that was more than enough for Liam.

“I’m not going to convince you to bathe or have dinner in the kitchens, right?”

His brother looked at him like it was a more than obvious statement and Liam could not help but chuckle.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything, but everyone would calm down if you left at least to eat. I could watch over Vi”

Like he had always done.

“I know, Liam. I just can’t” his brother sighed, throwing his head back and rotating to relieve the neck pain “I panic just thinking about it”

Xaden’s eyes were dull, as if he was drained of the usual spark of ire and condescending behavior. The man in front of him was simply a shell of his brother and Liam could not blame him. Everyone had seen how Violet revolted Xaden’s entire being, breaking through the walls he kept around his heart, aligning herself to him in a perfect puzzle fit. No wonder his brother was so distraught, specially after they parted to battle on bad terms.

“Were we ever really friends?”

Liam would never forget how hurt she looked while uttering those words. He felt like a bag of shit remembering how he broke her trust - someone who saved his life three times, who refused to let him cross the border of life and death with sheer rage and power. Liam did not deserve her as a friend. The guilt and regret mixed horribly inside him, one could only imagine how those feelings were intensified for Xaden.

“How are you sleeping?” Liam changed the subject.

His brother pointed at a mess of blankets and pillows shoved in the corner of the room. “Brennan brought me these, I just rest on the floor most times”

That did not look comfortable at all, but he doubted Xaden would actually take the bed with Violet laying on it.

“I’ll get you dinner” Liam said “do you want a sleeping draught?”

Xaden denied with a short headshake, the dull dark eyes set firmly on Violet and his right hand ghosting under the collar of his shirt. Liam took it as his leave, clasping his brother’s shoulder firmly and looking at Violet’s sleeping form one more time.

“Brother” Xaden’s voice was barely audible.

Liam let go of the door’s handle, facing Xaden.

“Yes?”

Xaden turned slightly, his profile visible “Thank you”

Liam felt his heartbeat speed up, the guilt and nausea simmering - reminding him of their presence, of the unworthiness of it all. Xaden was sitting beside the woman he loved, a woman who was injured, a friend Liam failed to protect when she most needed. Gratefulness was the last thing he wanted from his brother.

“I mean it, Liam. Always will”

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[fandom-fandom-fandom-17]

Last day. Day 7 Alternative universe. I couldn't decide for 6 hours. I  decided on something I saw on tumblr ages ago and now I can't find. Grimm reaper AU. Warning death,murder,gore

Viggo saw him after victim 21. Viggo Grimborn was the most feared serial killer in the entire US. Everyone knew his name "The Dragon killer" He was going to get a folk story about him at this point or at the very least a documentary. Viggos victims were usually the same Strong arrogant people  oftentimes, meaning they hurt those around them. That didn't make Viggo a good person especially since often his victims were innocent besides a few broken hearts. Not always but usually.  He had 23 victims to his name and nothing was stopping him anytime soon.

Viggo killed out of boredom. Nothing in his life was exiting and after his first victim he didn't want to go back. He killed his brother after a fight with him over the business. Too much had happened that night on both ends and Viggo killed him. Viggo cleaned up what his house warming party was and put his brother in a vat of chemicals he made from things laying around the house. Viggo drove him two hours away and put him in a river but didn't weigh his brother down. So the cops found him a week and a half later, but because of the chemicals only needing a few days more they couldn't ID him. Viggo reported him missing two days later just so it wouldn't seem strange that he didn't report it.

During the day he was a wealthy business man with a blooming business in technology to his name. At night he was the dragon killer putting arrogant people in their place specifically the ground. He was called the dragon killer because all he left was a pile of bones and a coin that had a dragon with its stomach torn open. He choses his victims carefully and with much studying. Making sure they're exactly his type of person before he kills them and that there's an obvious escape goat the cops will go after. He then shots his bow and arrow through an open window in their home that he lock picked before they got there. He uses a bow and arrow because it's quieter and leaves less of a mark on the bones if he misses the artery he's aiming for. Which only happened once because damn the gym junkie won't sit still. Plus he can fold it up and wood isn't seen on metal scanners. Once he shoots them he dips them in acid for squeaky clean bones. He knows he should use a chemical that dissolves the bones better, but he got it wrong the first time when he panicked and likes that the bones vanish after two weeks. Leaving the cops in difficult situations, but also know that he did this. Viggo knew he was himself arrogant, but he could check himself if he needed to unlike his victims.

He first noticed the young man loitering in the lobby of the apartment of the man he just killed. this was his 21 kill. He was leaning on a wall without a care in the world. Viggo only gave him a glance, but brown eyes met green as though the young man knew he was going to look his way. Viggo kept walking as to not attract attention. He was at the 22 kill crime scene in the crowd outside the building. The 23 he was talking to someone else in an alley. The 24 was the kicker. There was a knock on the door causing Viggo to drop the body into the vat which made a splash. Had Viggo been wrong about this victim being isolated enough to give him time to escape? No he had made sure he wouldn't be caught till morning.  None the less he hid in a hallway off the door so he could spring the unwanted guest. He heard the door swing open. He had forgotten to lock it behind him. He had to more careful next time, he couldn't afford to get sloppy. He heard the light thud of a boot before he lunged.

They wrestled to the ground with Viggo wining. The man he pinned being oddly light. When they fell to the floor the intruder's hood fell off. It was the young man! He had green eyes and brown hair and freckles that adorned his skin.

"What are you a cop?” Viggo questioned “ doesn't matter either way” Viggo swung his arrow up " You'll die just like the rest-"

"Not quite mortal" The young man turned in to black smoke before Vigo hit came close. He  phased past Viggo only for him to rematerialize behind him.

"I don't hope to see you again, but I know I will" only giving a sad smile before disappearing out under the door.

The young man occupied his thoughts. His next victim wasn't out of bored but because he wanted to see that young man again. He was still careful, just quicker. Usual it took a month or two for him to get bored again and look for another victim. This time he did it in a week. And he waited longer at the victims. His effort paid off. He saw the young man again and they spoke for a awhile. His name was Hiccup and he was a grim reaper. The kind of reaper that took the soul after the kill. He could be seen by humans if he wanted to and by the victim and often someone close by at the time of death. Kill after kill they talked until he was at kill 31 when he realized he should ask Hiccup out. So he did. Viggo Grimborn asked out the grim reaper know as Hiccup. 

Hiccup seemed flustered at his question and asked for Viggo to give him time. Viggo respected his wishes and for the first time in months he slowed his killing. Which all in all was smart the cops had almost picked up a pattern with how frequent the last couple kills were.  He waited 3 months the longest he ever had when it came to killing, but this kill was about answers and after 3 month he couldn't take it anymore he had to know. With everything set he put his victim in the acid and waited. There was a small whoosh sound and creak of the floor. Viggo turned around and smiled. There Hiccup was standing with a dead rose in hand dressed in a suit.  

"And here I thought you changed your mind when you hadn't killed anyone in 2 months" The grim reaper said along with a bashful smile. 

"I was waiting for you to make the next move. Then I realized I don't have your number" Viggo said with a cheeky grin and a kiss to Hiccups knuckles. Hiccup gave him a peck on the lips before pulling away. 

"You can find me at any graveyard just ask for Hiccup and knock 2 times." Hiccup gave a shy smile before saying " Where should we go for our first date?"

Viggo once again kissed the grim reaper. 

I rushed this one a bit. No beta. 1206 words