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leighsartworks216 · 8 months

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This request is actually inspired by my fic I'm writing and I wanted to see your interpretation of the scene.

Tav is the daughter of a well known pirate, basically the black beard of Baldur's Gate, but after an attack that lead to her father and alot of the crews death she roamed Baldur's Gate until the mindflayer thing happened.

Currently, she and everyone are at a tavern, celebrating another successful quest and honestly still being alive when she hears a familiar song and she sees four old crew members (family) she thought was gone. What is your interpretation of the scene, how would Astarion would react to the news, and seeing her reuinte with her family?

I did not expect this to turn out as long as it did lmao

Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader (can be read as gn)

Warnings: fear of abandonment, alcohol/drinking, swearing

Word Count: 2,123

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The tavern was lively and bustling on the evening you and your companions squeezed in, the sun beginning to paint the sky in dramatic colors as it sets. Almost instantly, your party's spirits are lifted - yours included.

Finding a table for 7 people is no easy feat, but you manage to snag one in the corner. Drinks were served around, jokes about the battle you’d just endured and old stories of lives before the Illithid threat fill the air with an easy camaraderie. It reminds you of your father's ship, of the crew that raised you. Thinking about them again left a bitter taste in your mouth. Astarion must have noticed the distant look in your eye. He reached under the table for your hand, interlacing your fingers easily, and trying to catch your eye.

You smile at him, but your eyes are still glazed over. “I’m just thinking about my family, is all,” you tell him, as though it’s as mundane as thinking of what one needs to get from the market to make dinner. You’d told him of your father, his crew, the ship - and what happened to it. It’s been months, but it’s still too fresh. You still wake up in the dead of night from visions of colossal waves that pull your head under, and screams cut short with the slice of a cutlass. “This… reminds me of them.”

He offers a concerned smile, though it comes out as more of a grimace. “I’m flattered we remind you of drunken sailors,” he drawled sarcastically. It worked to get a laugh out of you, if nothing else.

“Drunken pirates,” you correct. He watches the smile slip, your eyes become distant once more, water pricking at the corners.

Astarion had a… complicated relationship with family. He couldn’t remember his parents, and the “family” Cazador provided were less-than-welcoming at best. As such, he never really knew how to comfort you in times like these. Not that he knew how to comfort anyone, really, but he wanted to try, at least.

“Gods,” you sigh, choked with emotion, “I miss those daft fools.” You lean your head against his shoulder. He maneuvers to wrap his arm around your middle, holding you close, and takes your hand again. “We used to celebrate like this,” you mumbled. His elven ears picked it up easily. “We’d drown the night in ale and groan about it in the morning. Played knife-throwing games as our visions start to spin and double. Sing songs at the top of our lungs, like screaming it would scare away any monster at sea.”

You sigh again. Though he can’t see your face, he can see when you use your free hand to wipe your eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.”

“Darling,” he hums, squeezing your hand, “we are technically in this together. Your burdens are mine and all that. In any case, you’ve carried all of our burdens, even when you didn’t have to. I’m only returning the favor.”

“Thank you.” You lift your head from his shoulder to kiss his cheek. He grins, all too pleased with the simple affection you lavish on him. “Now, enough wallowing.” You clear your throat and grab your tankard. “This is a celebration. And I intend to be too drunk to walk before the night is out.”

He sighed dramatically, lifting his goblet of wine. “And I suppose I’ll be the one to carry you back to camp?”

You smirk up at him, a glint in your eye. Like this, he can imagine you as the pirate you are. Swashbuckling and taking down other ships, climbing up ropes to the top of the sails, peering out from the crow’s nest for any sign of adventure. Dry land did not suit you, he thought.

But then came the thoughts that always followed. If you did return to the sea, to your old life with a new crew, after these tadpoles are removed, he couldn’t follow. The only reason he’s safe from the sun and the burn of running water was because of the damned, wriggly things. He couldn’t follow you onto a ship to be locked away in confined cabins until night, or help if the waters chose to fold over the deck in great big waves, threatening to take down the vessel. He couldn’t have that life. Not with you.

Your head was thrown back, neck bobbing with each gulp of shitty ale. You did not see the pain on his features those thoughts brought him. He tossed back the last of his wine.

You stand and gather the empty mugs of your companions, bright-eyed and ready for round after round (Karlach only encourages this.), when something sounds across the tavern. It’s a rather large establishment, and the bustle of other patrons covers up everything. But it’s there. Loud and boisterous and-

You rush to step over the bench and find the source of the noise. Astarion frowns and chases after. He’s right on your tail as you push through drunkards with half-formed “Excuse me”s and “Coming through”s. As you get closer and closer, the sound becomes clearer. It’s not just noise - it’s singing. A cacophony of voices all singing together.

You squeeze past a barmaid, nearly knocking the drinks from her hands, but the apology is lost when you see a table full of drunken pirates. One starts to take a swig mid-song, when his eyes land on you. He’s on his feet - Is that a peg leg? - in an instant, dropping the tankard carelessly to the table.

“Tav?” he gasps. The rest fall silent, turning around to see what the man was gawking at. They thought he was imagining it, as he’d done time and again since the attack. They all leapt up and rushed forward when you were more than a figment of their alcohol-addled minds.

Astarion was pushed aside as a horde of pirates surrounded you, hugging you and ruffling your hair and all speaking hurriedly with worry and joy. He can’t ignore the pain in his chest, as though someone had driven a stake through his heart. You hugged each one, misty eyed. Questions fell ceaselessly from your lips as you asked how they survived, what happened, what they’d been doing all this time. And he knew. He knew without a shadow of a doubt. He could not hope to be more important than your family. He couldn’t be the one you chose - not when you’d recounted your friends with tales of the open ocean and your father’s crew for hours.

He quietly backed away. The others ask why you rushed off and what was happening when he returned to grab the bottle of wine. He wasn’t too sure what he said. He’d like to think it was some sort of “They found their family” said with a charming grin, and a simple, but believable, excuse to go back to camp not like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, but like a vampire with things that need doing back at camp. Alone. With a bottle of wine.

Your eyes are red and your smile is about to burst off your face when you drag your pirate family over to meet your companions. You’re bouncing on your feet with energy, introducing everyone and nearly crying again when the pirates embrace everyone like family. Your heart is soaring when you look around for Astarion, searching around the table, the bar, the crowd. And it starts falling when you don’t see him anywhere.

“Hey, have any of you seen Astarion?”

Gale groaned as he was released from a bone-crushing hug. He winced as he held his shoulder. “He said he was heading back to camp.”

Your heart crashed firmly against hard cement, leaving cracks in the foundation. “Back to- Why? Did he say why?”

“No,” Shadowheart answered this time, trying not to get caught admiring the intricate braid of another crewmate. “He just took the wine and ran.”

The warm environment suddenly felt cold and unwelcoming. Was he uncomfortable with your family? They were known to be rather callous and loud - maybe they’d scared him off? Was the idea of confronting their family just too stressful for him? Did it bring up unwanted memories? Why… Why did he run off?

You touch an older pirate’s arm, letting them know you’ll be right back. They smile and nod and pull you in for one last hug. It feels bittersweet. You dash off from the tavern back to camp.

When you arrive, he’s uncorking a second bottle of stolen alcohol, frowning and grumbling and pacing. He’s so deep in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice you’re there until you say his name. He frowns deeply at you. “Shouldn’t you be catching up with your family?” he asks, but it’s bitter and cold.

You frown. “I wanted you to meet them. Why’d you leave?”

He looks away, focusing instead on taking a long drink from the bottle. It’s had no time to air out; he almost grimaces at the flavor. He pretends to read the label. “It was getting a little crowded in there,” he dismisses.

“So you leave without saying anything?”

“Well,” he begins, drawn-out and sarcastic, creating a barrier between you and his emotions, “you were busy. I’d hate to get in the way.”

You huff. “Astarion, please, just tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing.” He scowls. He begins pacing again. “Nothing’s wrong! You’ve found your family again! I’m so happy for you.” He spits the word like it burns him to say it.

“Is that what this is about? My family?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?” you plead. “What’s wrong?”

“YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE!” He sighs at his outburst, glaring at the ground. His feet are locked to ground, refusing to move closer or further away - because he can’t decide which would be better. “Once this is over, once we figure out how to remove these tadpoles, you’re going to run back to the sea. To a ship, with your family. And I can’t follow.” He scowls at himself. He hates laying out his thoughts, his feelings. It feels too vulnerable. He feels exposed. “You won’t stay on land.”

You won’t stay with me.

A silent war wages on in your head and in your heart. You’re torn in two directions - forced to choose between the people who raised you, the last fragments of your father and his ship, or Astarion, your vampiric lover. It’s painful.

You step forward slowly, like he’s going to startle and run away like a frightened rabbit. He doesn’t move. And he doesn’t look at you. The bottle in his hand feels too heavy.

“I love my family,” you start. You can see in an instant as his walls come back up. His face, still upset and angry, becomes stoic and defensive. “And I love the sea.” You stop in front of him. “And I love you.”

He closes his eyes, prepared for the rejection.

“I… I had a whole life on the ocean.” Your fingers brush his hand. It twitches involuntarily, wishing to hold you, for just one last moment. When he doesn’t pull away, you tangle your fingers with his. “I want to see what a future on land would be like.”

He swallows. He opens his eyes, but he can’t look at you. He looks instead at your hand in his. “And when you decide a life on a ship is better than hiding in the shadows with me?”

You pull his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles. He watches longingly.

“If I decide to sail again,” you accentuate your words with a kiss to the meat of his thumb, “I’ll come back. Over and over again. I’ll sail for a week and stay with you for a month. I’ll sail a month and stay with you a year. I love you, Astarion. And I will always choose you. And when we find a cure for vampirism, you can come with me.”

He huffs a laugh. “I’d be a poor excuse for a pirate.”

“You can scrub the deck.”

He finally meets your eyes with a playful scowl. It softens into something quiet and sad. “I don’t want to tear you from your family.”

You shake your head, stepping even closer. “You’re not, I promise. Now that I know they’re alive, I’ll be damned if I don’t keep in touch. But all they know is the sea. They have no reason to stay ashore - they’re heading out with a new captain next week.” You cup his cheek with your free hand. He sighs and leans into the touch. “I want to stay on land for a while longer.”

---

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piratefalls · 2 months

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welcome back to the latest edition of biweekly fic recs! as always, mind the tags, if you can't leave a nice comment don't leave one at all, and happy reading!

masterlist.

There's No Problem That San Diego Can't Solve by @historicallysam

Alex doesn’t even bother knocking; he simply twists the knob on the door and shoves it open. His eyes narrow as the door bangs against the wall and he sees Henry on the phone. Maybe (definitely) it’s rude but his blood is fucking boiling so he doesn’t really care.

All the Ocean was Sleeping by @sparklepocalypse

The worst part about being a siren in the modern era, Henry ponders as yet another ship flies past his cove at a speed that he knows will disturb the anemone gardens below, is the yacht bros. Between the sound of their vessels’ motors and the dissonant noise the humans call music, Henry’s singing has no chance of attracting anyone’s attention.

cause you're a classic, and i'm reckless by @firenati0n

“I've, actually, uh. I've never done this before.” At this, Henry stops short, takes a second as his gaze moves up and to the left, trying to recall something. “I've seen your films. You most certainly have done intimate scenes.” Alex clears his throat. He hopes his nerves aren't completely obvious, the slight waver in his voice about to give him away. “Yeah, well. Never with a man, so. Not at this scale, anyway.” “Would it help to, er, practice?" Henry winces a little as he says it, which does not inspire confidence. But Alex is shocked nonetheless. What the fuck?

Over Land and Sea by SatinBirds

Alex and Henry come from very different worlds, and still, they manage to find each other.

Clean Slate by smc_27

“Henry.” Pez comes over, puts both hands on Henry’s cheeks and looks him dead in the eye. “You are not a sad man who’s gotten dumped. You’re in the prime of your life, and I quite desperately need you to act like it.” “The prime of my life,” Henry scoffs, more incredulous than questioning. “I’ve just gotten out of a 15 year relationship, endured a divorce, am suffering an almost impressive case of writer’s block, and your hands are like bloody icicles.” Pez grins, doesn’t take his hands away. “Explain to me how this is my prime. Please.” Pez tilts his head, and sounds entirely serious when he says, “Literally anything can happen from here.”

in bloom by stutteringpeach

Yoo, can u hook me up with some flowers?? It's the busiest day of the year for florists. Alex texts Henry with a last minute request.

here is a map (with your name for a capital) by @alasse9

That day at the Rio de Janeiro Olympics, Alex comes across the very same Prince Henry who just dismissed him having a panic attack in a bathroom. The choice Alex makes then has ripple effects neither of them could have ever expected. What's the story like, when they actually are friends all along? “So, you’re going back to England tonight, and you’ll spend the next three days pretending you two are the closest and best of friends until we can put this mess behind us.” And there are reasons he hasn’t told anybody this, good reasons, even though he’s sure June and Nora saw through him ages ago. Faced with his mom’s disappointment, though, and with the realization that the entire world apparently thinks he hates Henry and would willingly shove him into a fucking cake, he can’t stay quiet. “But we are friends,” he says, vehement and serious. “We have been for years. He’s—he’s probably my best friend, actually, along with Nora.”

thoughts of you consume by yrsonpurpose

Henry sees Alex appear on the red carpet in a blue suit that screams sex on legs and is ready to throw away all attempts at concealing their secret relationship in the name of dropping to his knees at the first available opportunity.

eyes on me by matherine

Alex’s hips buck back against Henry’s mouth the moment his tongue does more than tease, and Henry squeezes his hip in gentle consternation. But before he can say anything, Alex is already rambling. “Sorry, I’m — I’m sorry, I know you said not to move, and I’m trying, I — I’m trying to be good, I promise,” he blurts, voice shaking ever so slightly from something that certainly doesn’t sound like pleasure, resolutely refusing to turn his head so that he can meet Henry’s gaze from where he’s positioned behind him. Henry’s heart aches. “Alex — love, it’s alright. Where’s your mind?” Or: Sometimes, Alex needs a distraction. Something to take the edge off, to scrub away at the stress of the day. Some days, it works better than others.

the evolution of intimacy by Poutini

There’s no spontaneity anymore. One might think this boring. That the novelty had worn off. The spark snuffed. Absolutely not

Want Me by OrchidScript

Henry had always been weak for a nice smile, but his was impossible to ignore. Blame it on summer heat and a fresh flush in his cheeks. Blame it on sunset painting the outdoor bar sweltering, romantic colors. Blame it on two healthy glasses of albariño thrumming in his bloodstream, or the good music floating on the air. Henry could blame it on anything liked if he thought long and hard about it, but that didn’t change much at the end. The core remained the same: he had been gone from the jump. -- Henry and Alex hook up on a vacation in Spain. Henry falls a bit deeper.

fill my lungs with sweetness by @priincebutt

Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor wakes up at 3 AM on his birthday to an empty bed. What could Alex possibly be getting up to at 3 AM the night before his birthday? The possibilities are endless.

got myself in quite a tangle by coffeecatsme

"It seems I've gotten myself in quite a tangle." "Tangle?" Henry's voice is hoarse, eyes darkened as they travel over Alex's body. They stop at his crotch, and Alex can see it even under the dim lights—Henry's growing hard too, a visible bulge pushing at his sweatpants. Alex's cock gives a desperate twitch. "Y'know, I was trying to put them around the tree," he starts, gesturing at the plain tree at the corner. It's clear he didn't even attempt to touch it. "And somehow I've managed to completely trap myself. Can't even move my hands." Henry makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat as his eyes snap up to Alex's face. Alex flashes him a suggestive grin, teeth biting down on his lip. "Seems I'm completely at your mercy."

The Forces of Chance and Coincidences by @stellarm

Bad weather leads to a late flight that leads to no one being where they wanted to be, but maybe everyone was where they needed to be.

I've never felt safer (than when I'm with you) by viciouslyqueer

Alex takes the bag and opens it slowly, careful not to rip it, and gasps quietly as he sees what’s inside. “H, you didn’t…” Strong arms wrap around his waist from behind, Henry’s chest warm against his back. “Do you like it?” Henry asks in a whisper, resting his chin on Alex’s shoulder. Alex doesn’t know what to say. Gingerly, like he might ruin it with even the smallest touch, he takes out the silky fabric and holds it up in front of them. It’s a gorgeous dress, fancy too, in a deep red color with thin straps and an open back. It’s long, almost touching the floor even as Alex holds it up and has a slit on the left side that would probably end a little above Alex’s knee.

An Amateur's Guide to Professional Gift-Giving by anincompletelist

Alex, a former-law-student-taking-some-time-off turned professional part-time gift giver, is tasked with finding a gift for the most high profile client he's ever worked with, both in and out of the world of law. It turns out finding the perfect gift for the Prince of Wales might be easier than he'd anticipated.

Love At First Bark by everwitch

“I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

don't let me get drunk again by headabovethewater

Alex had never wanted to cancel plans as much as he had while watching Henry pull a pair of light wash, tight jeans over his stockinged legs and bare ass. Christ, he’s getting hard thinking about it now.

The Beginner's Guide to Floristry by clottedcreamfudge

As if there's anything romantic about it; as if it's not the most humiliating death Alex can imagine. This is why he doesn't do relationships. This is why he never will. The risk, as far as he fucking sees it, is too great. -- Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible.

Everything you take, you make it better. So go on, take forever by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

It's 2024, and nobody knows they're engaged. But they will, just as soon as Alex can decide what to wear to his birthday dinner. Henry has an idea and a special gift to match.

false pretenses by rizcriz

Henry spins around, glaring at Alex. “For christs sake,” He hisses, holding a hand out between them. “Can we just not? I do not have the capacity to pretend to hate you today.” Alex splutters as Henry turns on his heel and starts to walk away. He stares after him helplessly. “Pretend?” After a beat, he starts to follow after him, “What the fuck do you mean pretend?” Three years of breathing down each others necks, fighting every time they come in contact with each other. And if Henry is saying every single thing on his end has been pretend, Alex Claremont-Diaz is going to have a fucking breakdown. Because he has been harboring this stupid fucking crush and burying it beneath false antagonism, meeting Henry where he’s at, for three years, and if Henry is implying that they’re both faking it— -- or, Alex learns better.

turn the desert to glass (you would be the one) by @taste-thewaste

Henry and Alex's domestic bliss has lead to some changes in Henry's body. Henry doesn't really mind being a little chubby, but he wonders if Alex does. Alex, it turns out, does not. Not one bit. He does not mind one bit, and he is more than eager to prove it.

coming on fast like good dreams do by cricketnationrise

When Henry recovers from his unexpected factory reset, he still can’t really breathe properly and somehow Alex is still standing in front of him with a hopeful and excited expression on his face. “Run that by me again?” he asks faintly. “I need your help.” “Right…” “I need you to edge me. Like a lot,” Alex says with a shrug. Nope, it’s not any clearer a second time around.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in future lists, whether you're a reader or writer!

tagging @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift @enablelove

#rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfiction #red white and royal blue #alexhenry #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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writing-for-life · 2 months

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Right, okay, I’ve thought long and hard whether to write this:

A squick (even a strong one) is not the same as a trigger.

Emotional discomfort, even emotional discomfort that leads to low-level physical symptoms like e.g. mild nausea, is not trauma. Unfortunately, TikTok pop psych has done nothing to help people understand the difference, because the trend to perceive (even strong) emotional discomfort as equivalent to a trauma response is worrying and neither helps people with nor without PTSD. I don’t wish it on anyone to actually find out the difference if they haven’t yet (disclaimer, since this is unfortunately necessary these days because everything gets misconstrued: I am not talking about individual experiences, because only you can know about those. I’m talking about wider trends in an often young audience with not enough background info to be able to tell apart sound medical/psychological info and viral BS created by “influencers” for some kind of personal gain).

What people in the current fandom spat want to have tagged as “triggers” are overwhelmingly squicks. And we’re probably all guilty of quickly saying “that triggered me”, myself included (and I’m a licensed psychotherapist, shame on me). It has become somewhat of a shorthand for “extremely annoyed or grossed out”. But when it gets used in the context of tagging, it’s good to remember that no one owes us a tag list the length of our arm just because we don’t like certain things. Even if we strongly dislike them.

And even on the occasion someone else’s yuck or yum is an actual trigger for us, it is impossible to cover for every possible trigger, because in theory, EVERYTHING has the possibility to trigger someone somewhere.

E.g., a certain smell in a supermarket holds the rare possibility of triggering someone, but do you see disclaimers at the supermarket door that say, “May smell of 484 different things, which are in detail [list of 484 things] and might be different tomorrow. Plus, we might have a customer today who smells of that perfume that brings up your triggering childhood memories. Or maybe we won’t, but just on the odd chance we do, we thought we’d rather cover it”.

There might be one person with a very specific trigger that does literally nothing to the vast majority of people. Do we expect everyone on Tumblr to tag for “eyebrows” or “white T-Shirt” because of that? How about that person just puts “eyebrows” or “white T-Shirt” in their content filter instead?

Do we really suggest to put that type of responsibility on creators? More importantly: Who are we protecting that way? All we do is put people into bubble wrap and shift responsibility for our mental wellbeing away from ourselves to others.

We are trying to tell other people what to do for our own comfort. That’s controlling.

If we’re squicked out by something, there is a simple solution: we can stop looking or reading. We can use content (not tag) filters. In the worst case, we can block. We don’t have to put that type of responsibility for our personal sensitivities on creators (or people who reblog, for that matter).

We can tag for certain things as a courtesy, I’m all for it. I love being able to filter out stuff I’m not into, and I sometimes wish people would tag better or not tag a certain way (getting ship tags for a ship you’re not into slapped on your character-metas is annoying 🤣). But I don’t die, neither does it cause me unbearable distress, if I see cows where I don’t expect them. Scroll past or block. And if I’m worried about mature topics like nudity or violence: Tumblr has a community label for mature themes you can (and in my view should) use if in doubt. Funnily enough, many people don’t do that though—maybe because they worry about reach?

Of course we should include content warnings where they are due, no one says we shouldn’t. It’s also fair if a creator doesn’t wish to do that beyond general warnings (no specifics) though because they might give away, say, major plot points that way. In that case, general disclaimers like “contains depictions of violence”, or whatever it might be individually, are a good idea. And if that’s not specific enough for us despite knowing that “violence” in general might also contain our personal trigger, we might need to make the decision not to read it to stay safe, but we shouldn’t have a go at the writer for not tagging very specific things that might be considered spoilers.

Long story short: If we assume people are “triggered” by werewolves with vulvas or non-human characters, it might be worth thinking about whether we’re just talking about squicks that very much fall into the category of “personal responsibility”. And there are plenty solutions to that at our end—we don’t need to put that on creators…

#fandom problems #fandom entitlement #fandom stuff #squicks #vs #triggers #tagging #being grossed out or strongly disliking is uncomfortable #but it’s not the same as being triggered

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mxtxfanatic · 9 months

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Was thinking about how often I see reactionary pro-Jiang Cheng content, and I just realized something: jc stans, just like their fav, believe that every good thing Wei Wuxian has—whether loved ones or good memories or admirable characteristics or character growth, whether canon or fanon—is actually the rightful property of Jiang Cheng that Wei Wuxian “stole” from him through the sin of existing, and it is their sworn duty to correct this “oversight” of canon.

Wei Wuxian gets his happily ever after with the love of his life, so jc stans give Jiang Cheng Lan Xichen and call Lan Wangji “second place.” Or they make Lan Wangji a cheater because “he actually likes Jiang Cheng more (who doesn’t, amiright?)” or Wei Wuxian a cheater because “he can never appreciate a good thing like Jiang Cheng can.” People point out how Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang seem to have had a closer relationship than Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng, so jc stans make the latter two a ship or make them the bestest friends ever that bond over being annoyed with Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian has a close relationship with the Wen siblings, so jc stans make Wen Qing spend all their time together saying that Jiang Cheng “was right” about him while Wen Ning is being “bullied” into being “anti-jc.”

Wei Wuxian is canonically smart and driven, so jc stans say that he is lazy while Jiang Cheng is hardworking. Wei Wuxian is canonically charismatic, so jc stans say that it was actually Jiang Cheng who was loved by all the disciples and is the sole reason the Jiang Clan of the present was able to pull in new disciples post-fall. Wei Wuxian loves to learn, so jc stans say that Jiang Cheng was actually a model student being sabotaged by the slovenly Wei Wuxian.

People imagine the Lan as accepting Wei Wuxian post-canon or imagine aus where the Lan adopt him as a child, so jc stans make Jiang Cheng the adopted Lan child, who Lan Qiren now likes better than his own nephews. People write Nie!wwx, so jc stans write about how “actually” Nie Mingjue sees Jiang Cheng as the brother he never had and views Wei Wuxian as an unwanted nuisance and competition. People make the most batshit ooc au where the QishanWen are actually good and adopt Wei Wuxian, and jc stans turn that into actually, the Jiang siblings are adopted while Wei Wuxian stays with the “totally horrible, abusive” father in Yunmeng. Fucking Baoshan Sanren descends from her mountain to look for her martial grandson, and jc stans will shove Jiang Cheng into the narrative as a disciple because “he’s just so lovable!” In all of these cases, some will still imagine that Wei Wuxian still gets left on the streets as a petty afterthought.

Shit, even some of the BAD things that happen to Wei Wuxian canonically are misappropriated by jc stans to give Jiang Cheng unearned sympathy. Wei Wuxian was whipped as a child? Now Jiang Cheng was too, but also his dad hates him. Wei Wuxian is an orphan who creates his own family in adulthood? Jiang Cheng is now disowned/an unloved runaway who later finds his people because who wouldn’t want him (amiright?). Wei Wuxian was at risk of losing his golden core completely in the transfer if it failed? Well Jiang Cheng was going to DIE! “See? Look how much harder Jiang Cheng’s life was than that pathetic attention whore Wei Wuxian! Doesn’t he deserve all the things Wei Wuxian has? Aren’t they rightfully his???”

And it’s like, you can’t even escape into fan content with this type of mentality, because look out how much I mentioned is popular fanon. Notice how ubiquitous these ideas are surrounding anything to do with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, even if only one of them is mentioned. No matter what anyone reads in the novel, no matter what individuals come up with in their own heads, no matter what tag or platform is used or not used to keep it out of their hands, jc stans will be there to create a reactionary counterpart to prove that nothing, nothing can ever just be Wei Wuxian’s. Because at the end of the day, the “oversight” that jc stans want to correct isn’t Jiang Cheng’s supposed depreciation by the author. The “oversight” was the author daring to say that Wei Wuxian deserves to be treated as his own person and not Jiang Cheng’s personal property. And every fandom interaction has been retaliation towards that fact.

The main character of the novel is relegated to mere a lightning rod that exists to attract all of Jiang Cheng’s bad qualities while injecting him with all of Wei Wuxian’s good, but jc stans wonder why people are upset.

#mdzs #human gripes at fandom

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shankschewtoy · 1 year

Note

idk if you’ve done this before but can you do either zoro or luffy finding out that their s/o is actually alive? like they watched them die and stuff and then a while later, they just come back like

a/n - I woke up at 3am today and I’m very motivated for some reason :) thank you for this request anon!

Warnings ⚠️ - angst, g/n reader

You had died a while ago, and Zoro still hasn’t recovered from it. Your death was… Enough to break the unbreakable man. Everyone in the strawhat crew knew how much you meant to him, he would die for you.

He still had little pictures of you laying around, little things to remember you by. It was sad, feeling how the bed you two shared was now one for only him. How when he trained, you weren’t hanging out with him. You didn’t save him from the pervert cook ever again… Nor did you help him deal with Luffy’s recklessness.

it was so… empty with you not there anymore. As if his life wasn’t complete. He was with his best friends for life, on his way to fulfill his dreams, and help his captain fulfill his. It was everything he could’ve wished for. Except you. You weren’t there anymore.

On the next island, zoro reluctantly came along with Nami and Robin to help with the supplies shopping. They thought it would be good for him to get out of the ship for a little while. He walked, his head hanging low, his hand perched on the hilt of his katana in case anyone dared to attack him.

Suddenly he heard a familiar voice, he could’ve sworn it was yours. How could he ever forget it? Your tone that always brought comfort to him, whenever you spoke, it put him at ease, no matter what you were talking about. He looked up to see a hooded figure speaking with a merchant, negotiating a price.

His body moved for him, walking towards the person quickly, taking off their hood and staring at them to see if it was you or not.

It wasn’t.

“What the hell man?! What’s your problem?!” The man yelled at him angrily, swatting his hands away. Zoro sighed heavily, great, now he was hearing things.

“Zoro?!”

He looked up at the merchant. No fucking way. It was you.

He literally jumped over the stands of fruit and tackled you, wrapping his bulky arms around you so tightly you couldn’t even breathe. No, what are you thinking? He totally wasn’t crying!

“Y/n- where the hell were you? And how did you survive? I saw you-“

“Die? Yeah nope that didn’t happen. I’ve been waiting here for a while since I know you guys had planned on coming here.”

“You could’ve sent a letter dammit! And there’s things called den den mushis where a literal fucking snail can call me?!!”

He was mad, happy, sad, confused, but most of all? Relieved, to see you alive, safe, and in his arms again. “Sorry Zoro- but I’m too broke to afford one! I can barely pay for an apple in this expensive town!”

He chuckled a bit, kissing your cheek before leading you out of the stand. “Ahem?! My fruit?!” The hooded man asked before Zoro shot him the nastiest death glare he’d ever experienced. Anddd- that shut him up pretty quickly, sending him running away with fear.

“Come on, I bet everyone’s going to be excited to see you again.. don’t ever do that again or else I’m going to kill you.”

“Ok ok- sorry babe.”

Luffy was never- truly the same after your passing. Watching you take that hit for him as you fell off the cliffs into the steep waterfalls. God he remembered it as if it was yesterday, it kept haunting him, following him, stalking his life.

He still smiled, had his rambunctious attitude, reckless behavior, and meat loving self. But whenever your name was brought up, he wasn’t smiling anymore, in fact, he never could find happiness in hearing about you anymore.

All he could think about was how he let you die. Just like he did with ace. Everyone knew, everyone saw the changes from his old self. They hoped that this new island would help cheer him up, since it had been known for its very delicious meat.

He obviously tagged along with Robin and Sanji to pick out the “best” meat. When he was standing around, struggling not to eat it before Sanji even got a change to cook it, he saw a glimpse of someone he used to know. They looked- just like you!

It took him not even a moment to start running towards the person, turning them around to see that it… it was you!

“Y/N!”

He tackled you down, his arms wrapping several times around you, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “LUFFY!”

Oh god you missed him so much- just to be able to hug him like this again was more than enough to bring life back into your heart again. “How are you here?! I thought you- fell off the cliffs?”

“I did, and Luffy. It wasn’t your fault ok? I’ve been wanting to tell you that for so long. Don’t blame yourself, I was the one that was too angry, and just attacked with no plan. I was the one that got myself almost killed ok? Not you.”

You kissed his forehead, you definitely knew Luffy had been blaming himself this entire time for your “death”. He grinned, peppering your face with his kisses, tickling your cheeks. “Sanji picked out some yummy meat, tonight we’re gonna have a feast!!!”

You smiled at him. Finally, you were home.

a/n - this was adorable help

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nightgoodomens · 4 months

Note

Shipping D/M is fine, cute even. It's disrespecting their partners that a lot of us draw the line at. Don't say that never happens either. I have seen it personally and have blocked more than one blog for it. Calling their relationships with their partners fake, or over, or nothing but baby trapping, or whatever else is beyond just cute fun shipping. It's actually hurtful and has led to things like Georgia being bullied off Twitter. That is taking things way too far.

Super long answer so I put it under read more, also if you’re not interested in these conversations then you can simply not click ‘read more’ and everybody wins.

You do realise that nobody is obliged to respect and love Georgia and Anna just because one is David’s wife and the other is Michael’s girlfriend?

There is this weird thing in this fandom that just because you’re Michael’s and/or David’s fan you must love and respect their partners and think their relationships are perfect. And that’s simply not true.

Georgia and Anna are separate people. I will judge them based on what they show and it would be healthy if others started to too, because while many are shocked that the ladies are not entitled to automatic respect and in extreme cases worship, I am surprised Georgia is called a Queen because she films David doing grocery shopping and Anna is called a Queen because she will post a picture of miserable as fuck Michael.

But you know what? It doesn’t bother me. They make people happy? This is what people think they deserve to be worshipped for? Cool. I might think it’s weird but I will let people be and I’d appreciate if they let me be for not thinking that the sun shines out of their asses. What I see from them make me not a fan of them but I hardly have any deeper feelings about the two of them, so I usually don’t talk about them.

People are allowed to theorise on celebs, their partners, and their relationships, based on what they see from public people who provide the material themselves. There are private couples out there who share nothing because they don’t want the public to theorise, but the people we talk about aren’t one of them.

There’s no terms and agreements that you are only allowed to squeak at what you see.

It goes both ways. If someone is allowed to comment positively, then someone else is allowed to comment negatively.

You are allowed to disagree with one and agree with another or form a completely different opinion.

The blogs that I read merely provide their thoughts on what they see. The shippers themselves discuss and sometimes even disagree with each other - politely. One thinks that. The other thinks something a bit different. Third one pops in with a completely different mindset. And that’s fine. They have a chat and that’s it. If it bothers anyone to see discussions about relationships then they can always block. But it looks like it only bothers when the discussions aren’t positive.

I block people being creepy about Crowley and Aziraphale and they’re fictional so I don’t blame anyone for blocking anyone else for whatever reason. It’s your space. Make it whatever you want it to be.

Now, Twitter is hell. It gave people the opportunity to talk with celebs. Some use it wisely. Some are slightly over the top, some are pure creeps, some are weird. If someone messages Georgia or Anna with their theory then they’re an idiot. That’s it.

I have never heard of Georgia being bullied off Twitter because of shippers so I can’t comment on that. The last time she was bullied off Twitter was because she searched her name on Twitter which she’s known for and then responded to a teenager who talked about her views (without tagging her) regarding the war. She decided to respond. People attacked. She decided to quit.

Now, I have two opinions on that - One, I think what happens on Twitter is insane. There is a reason why anybody with bigger following is refusing to post any opinions now because no matter what opinion they will give, it won’t satisfy everyone, and a mob of hate will follow. Two - barely a few months prior Georgia saw exactly what happened to Michael for sharing his opinion when he was actually asked for it, so I am not sure why she thought that fishing for trouble herself was a good idea. I guess she thought she’s above the treatment that Michael received which is interesting. Or she simply didn’t think. But considering she was posting photoshoots of herself moments later on Instagram fishing for compliments from fans… She survived the realisation that not all fans will always worship her.

Also - just a final point. It really isn’t evil or stupid to theorise and I’d urge people to have a bit of a read about PR relationships because it’s nothing new. Generally have a read about PR and you will understand why believing everything that you see on social media is simply foolish. Use common sense, trust your gut, question yourself and your views. There is a reason why celebrities have PR. There is a reason why there are contracts involved. If a bunch of people say something stinks here and they’re noticing patterns of PR/fake relationships/unhappy relationships etc… maybe have a read instead of having a meltdown about how dare they suggest this relationship isn’t an utmost perfection.

It’s good for your own development; learning behaviours and patterns to make it easier for yourself to spot people fooling you in personal relationships and in business relationships. Learn the signs of bullshit and toxicity, you will be surprised how much easier they can make your life and have you avoid shit. Be critical and use common sense. If something doesn’t click, there is a reason for it.

You see on social media how your friend bullshits people because they post a picture of the best boyfriend in the world while you know they are fighting three bloody times a day. You think celebs are truthful on social media?

Anyway this has gotten long - my point is: People are allowed to theorise but they’re stupid if they directly message the person about it.

#dingdong night went on for too long #oh well #hugs and kisses mwah mwah #NightGoodOmens answers #I had a tag for such posts so you can block them and I forgot fuuuuuck #Michael and David answers #was that it #I don’t knowwwww

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ingravinoveritas · 6 months

Note

David and Michael get lots of acclaim and heart eye emojis for being adorably cute and proud and lovely and OOP! And as if by magic… #dontforgetaboutus

Oh, boy. Well, I was tagged in several posts about this and had it sent to me by several people, and it's just...going back to what I mentioned the other day about predictability, here is another perfect example of exactly that.

This seems to be a callback to Georgia referring to AL as "#mywife", and in both cases, the "flirting" between Georgia and AL feels very forced and disingenuous. I would say this is especially true of today's post, as it comes right on the heels of that photo of Michael and David on press night and how it has subsequently been overwhelming the social media chatter.

The problem here is that Anna's caption makes absolutely no sense at all. As it is worded, it makes it sound like Georgia has two husbands (if she has a first husband, then logically that would seem to mean she has a second one). So is Anna calling herself a husband? It seems like this is yet another attempt at her and Georgia trying to be like Michael and David, and once again, it falls completely flat. All of this is riffing on Georgia calling Michael David's "other wife," but that was never something Anna was originally part of--she never called Michael David's "other wife" or was included in any of the banter/exchanges between Michael and Georgia, and certainly not in anything involving David.

So the fact that people are now describing this as a "polycule" is sort of mind-boggling to me, because while calling Michael "other wife" was rooted in the unavoidable chemistry and powerful connection between Michael and David (on and off screen), in reality there is nothing to suggest Georgia or Anna are attracted to or even like each other as genuine friends beyond a superficial, surface level. And while many fans on Twitter are up in arms about people shipping Michael and David (who were just photographed actually looking into each other's eyes), it somehow is completely acceptable for people to tweet/comment about Georgia and AL "making out," asking if Georgia "can fight," and so on.

That all being said, what's really interesting to me is what Anna and Georgia haven't posted, which is any sort of personal pictures. The pictures AL re-shared from Georgia are production stills (rather than a picture with David backstage, for instance), and she also did not post a picture of her and Michael, which she did do when they went to see David in Good in October of last year:

There has also noticeably not been a personal picture posted of Georgia and Anna, and even more notably, no picture of Michael and David from last night. For me this calls to mind the recent blurry photo that AL posted, and the fact that it appeared to have been a sneaked photo that was taken without Michael or David's knowledge (which would explain Michael looking so caught off-guard/alarmed and David not even looking in AL's direction).

Thinking about the warmth and adoration on Michael and David's faces in the theatre photo, it seems like last night was very much "their" night, and so I do wonder if Anna--much to her chagrin, no doubt--was strictly told not to take any photos for the sake of Michael and David's privacy.

Whatever the case may be, it is definitely tiring to see this predictable pattern of behavior from Georgia and AL. I think what folks are missing is that whether Michael and David are together romantically or not, they do not care what people think of their friendship/relationship, because it is for them, not for anyone else. But Georgia and Anna seem to want people to think that they are close, and have created this "flirtation" for the purpose of public consumption and furthering a narrative.

So yes, those are my thoughts on the new Insta stories from Georgia/AL. Glad as always to hear from my followers on what you all think of these latest developments. Thank you both for writing in! x

#taraiha #rainbowposes #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #georgia tennant #again if this was a one time thing i wouldn't even say anything #but the fact that it keeps happening is...yeah #the patterns are patterning #she also keeps 'joking' about leaving Michael #and usually someone doesn't do that if they are happy in a relationship #but what's the old saying: when someone shows you who they are believe them the first time #TL;DR: Michael and David are pure cane sugar and Georgia/AL are aspartame #so much cringe #relationships #anna lundberg #discourse

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kiwiana-writes · 1 month

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Six Sentence Sunday

Thanks @hgejfmw-hgejhsf and @stellarm for the tags! And don't forget: only a couple of days left to get prompts in for my subscriber shindig, if you're keen ❤️

I come to you this evening bearing more Doctor Who AU, which I am very much hoping to finish... soon. This month? If my brain would stop fucking with me, that would sure be nice. The dream, etc etc.

“Is this what you’re always like when—” NORA’s landing gear fires up, the materialisation sound cutting Alex off mid-sentence as she sets them down. Henry checks both the outdoor camera and the date and time information, just in case; it’s not that he doesn’t trust NORA, exactly, but she does tend to have a mind of her own sometimes. However, it looks like she’s delivered them exactly where he asked, and he lays a grateful palm on her console. “If you want to stay in here, you can,” he tries, but Alex is shaking his head before he can finish the sentence. “No way, sweetheart. I’m in this now.” There’s that nickname again; it’s too easy, in the middle of NORA’s control room, to remember the way his Alex would call him sweetheart, fingers curling against Henry’s jaw. The face might change, but the way he kisses Henry never does. Perhaps he should stick around when he returns NORA to where he found her, later. Perhaps actually getting to see Alex again would be worth it.

Tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius

@clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n

@getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heysweetheart-writes @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine

@jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy

@magicandarchery @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @nocoastposts

@nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @piratefalls @read-and-write-

@rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse

@stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

#six sentence sunday #kiwiana-writes #fic: like loving the stars themselves

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months

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she runs a tight ship

rated t | for @strangerthingsocweek day 1 "introduction" | 1,573 words cw: mentions of illness (just a cold), mildly suggestive language | tags: future fic, corroded coffin, original character, robin gets to have a girlfriend because i said so

author note: a lot of meg's original backstory also revolves around OCs that other people have created, so I've doctored it up a bit to fit in without pulling the other OCs into the mix.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Meg rolled her eyes the moment she walked onto the tour bus.

The boys, and they were in fact boys since they refused to act like grown men, had left clothes scattered across the floor and couch, empty beer bottles and bags of chips on the table, and a pack of cigarettes on the counter.

Unbelievable.

But actually, totally believable.

They weren’t always like this. It’s just that the first night of the tour was always a celebration when they got off stage and Meg had the unfortunate task of making sure they were alive and prepared for the rest of the tour.

She wasn’t their manager, or security, or really anyone of importance in the grand scheme of things. All of those people were just not good at the job, and she took over quickly to ensure the members of Corroded Coffin didn’t end up ruining their careers before they even got started.

“If I see a single ass cheek when I come back there, I’m quitting!” She yelled towards the back of the bus. It was an empty threat, and they knew it, but she’d seen enough ass cheeks to last a lifetime.

She leaned over to pick up the pile of pants and pair of boots right in front of the door, face crumpling into disgust as she caught a whiff of sweat and weed.

“Meg, good to see ya!” Gareth said as he came from behind the curtain leading to the bunks. “Are we in Cinci already?”

“Yep.” She popped her mouth and continued picking things up off the floor. “Soundcheck in two hours. You guys have to at least try to get your shit together for it.”

“We will! You doin’ okay?” Gareth started gathering the trash on the table, throwing it all in the trash can without even seeing what was full and empty.

“Yeah. Good show last night. Didn’t think you’d do the new one on your first night,” Meg admitted. She’d worked on the song with them for weeks in the studio, curating it exactly to their tastes while still staying true to her own style. She didn’t think it would make the setlist at all, especially since they hadn’t even decided if it would make the next album yet, but sure enough, they performed it last night.

And they’d given credit to their “amazing songwriter friend who made sure they didn’t die or forget to eat.”

She would never admit to the tears that fell when she watched them perform their song.

“Ed and Robin agreed it should be a surprise. I think they both just wanted to see you cry,” Gareth nudged her on his way over to grab the guitar on the couch to put it into its case. “Steve told them not to.”

“This is why Steve’s my favorite,” she joked. Well, half-joked. She considered Steve to be the other half to her Keep Corroded Coffin On Track Team. Without him, Eddie would have been left at a rest stop the first time they went on the road.

“Yeah, that’s no secret.” She could hear the eyeroll in Gareth’s voice, but chose to ignore it. “He was snoring so bad last night, I almost had to consider kicking him off the bus.”

“Wait. Snoring? Steve doesn’t snore unless he’s-”

“Fuck.”

They both realized at the same time what was coming. Gareth looked back at Meg, eyes wide.

“Not now! It’s the beginning of tour!”

“Maybe if I load him up with vitamin C? I have a whole vitamin kit in the van and Robin has that nebulizer for her breathing treatments.”

A round of sneezes came from the back and Meg cursed under her breath.

“He’s gotta get away from everyone. He can take the van with Robin and I’ll bunk on your couch for a few days. Did he have a fever?” Meg was known for being dramatic over small inconveniences, but this wasn’t small. It had the potential to ruin tour dates. If anyone in the band got sick, it could ruin a concert.

“Don’t know. I don’t think so? He seemed fine when we went to sleep. He passed out before all of us though.” Gareth quickly set the guitar down and opened the cabinet closest to the bus door. “We’ve got cold meds. Some cough syrup. Tylenol. Cough drops. You think that’ll be enough?”

Meg nodded. “For now. Let’s see how bad it is first.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Eddie and Jeff came out at the same time, panic written all over their faces.

Meg sighed. “Bad?”

They nodded.

“Okay, stay away from him. It could already be too late, but you guys have to stay healthy.” Meg grabbed the basket of meds and a bottle of water from the fridge. “All of you get outside, tell Robin what’s up, and go with security into the building. I’m gonna get him settled in the van and scrub this place from top to bottom.”

“But I’ll miss him,” Eddie pouted. “How long does he have to stay in the van?”

“Until he can breathe through both nostrils.”

“Can any of us ever really breathe through both nostrils?” Eddie wondered.

Meg blinked at him. “Get a shirt on and get out of here before I make it impossible for you to breathe out of one nostril.”

Eddie threw his head back and groaned. Jeff patted his shoulder and turned to grab a shirt that was still on the couch.

“It’s okay man. Might just be a little cold. Could pass quick!” Gareth tried to reassure him, but Meg could already see how this was gonna go.

She was surrounded by slightly codependent idiots. She loved them all dearly, but she needed them to function individually sometimes.

The door banged open and Robin came up the steps.

“I swear, I sleep in one time and my girlfriend abandons me for her harem of idiot men.” She glances between everyone and tenses. “What’s wrong?”

“You stupid soulmate is sick,” Meg grumbled. “Everyone is in the process of leaving this bus before it happens to them.”

“I’ll wake up Frankie. He’s gonna be pissed,” Jeff sighed. “He got his pillows just right.”

“I’ll get him, you guys go,” Meg shooed them away, waiting for them to all leave before turning to Robin. “Hey, Robbie. Sorry I didn’t wake you up, just wanted you to get plenty of sleep.”

Robin leaned her head on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, babe. Steve gonna make it?”

“Haven’t put eyes on him yet. Think you could go check? I gotta avoid getting sick, too. The less I’m around him, the better,” Meg handed her the basket and kissed the side of her head. “Get him to the van so he can contaminate that area instead.”

“But then I’ll get sick.” Robin pouted.

Meg couldn’t resist leaning down and pulling Robin’s bottom lip between her teeth, smirking when she let out a yelp.

“You’ll be fine. You’ve got a strong immune system. Promise I'll make it up to you in a few days. Maybe we could convince them to let us have a hotel room so we can-,” Meg said, pulling away when she heard shuffling behind the curtain. “Oh, good, it’s you. The rest of the guys are gone. Steve’s sick. Don’t come back in here until I give the go ahead.”

Frankie yawned, scratched his head, and nodded. “Got it.”

He was slowly becoming her favorite just by the fact that he never really argued with her. Maybe that was because he was terrified of her, but she could enjoy her power a little if she wanted to.

He walked out of the bus in his pajamas, probably not awake enough to realize he wasn’t properly dressed, but also probably not caring at all that he wasn’t. Frankie was a chill guy.

“Eddie?” Steve’s pitiful raspy voice came from behind the curtain. “Eds?”

“I’ll go,” Robin gave one final kiss to Meg’s lips before walking behind the curtain.

Meg only caught a glimpse of Steve, but a glimpse was all she needed to come to the conclusion that he was miserably sick and she needed to air this bus out immediately. She could hear Robin gently explaining where everyone was and trying to bribe him to put some comfy clothes on to move to the van.

She looked around and wondered what he’d touched last night before going to bed.

She opened the window behind the couch, and propped the window by the sink open to get some fresh air in the bus.

“Sorry I’m sick,” Steve suddenly said behind her, his eyes glassy and nose and cheeks bright red with fever and congestion. “Don’t know how.”

Meg smiled sadly at him. “Not your fault, bud. Just make sure to keep your distance from the guys until your fever’s gone. Don’t need them all getting sick at once and having to postpone a concert.”

Steve nodded sadly. “Okay. Can you tell Eddie I love him?”

“‘Course I can.”

Steve was acting like he was dying, but Meg didn’t say anything. Robin had been honest about a lot of her past, their past, but couldn’t say everything. She knew why they were all a bit codependent on each other. Sometimes small things like the common cold felt like a monster they couldn’t fight.

As Robin led Steve out of the bus, Meg made a checklist in her head of everything she needed to do before the show tonight.

Taking care of her boys was always top priority.

#stranger things #strangerthingsocweek #writing challenge #original character #corroded coffin #robin buckley #eddie munson #steve harrington #side steddie #gareth emerson #jeff #frankie or unnammed freak who i have decided is frankie

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rainyweeds · 1 year

Text

Home is where the heart is {Part 1}

Part 0 | Part 1

Pairing: Ao'nung x Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: After finally waking up from cryosleep on Pandora, you quickly realize you're not in the right place. While trying to navigate your location, a certain species of tall aliens take you captive.

Warnings: None for this chapter

A/N: I didn't actually think so many of you guys would want to read this. Anyways I'll have a mini tag list at the end since a few of you guys asked <3 and I'll add you guys to the next part too if you want!

How the hell did you end up here? You were supposed to be in the forest with Grace. This clearly wasn't a forest. The clear body of water surrounded the entire land mass, sandy beaches joining the two together.

There was no way in hell you were in the right place. What even happened while you were asleep? Did Grace know you were alive? Where was the RDA? You began trekking through the wooded area, hoping to find an answer.

The entire island was surrounded by water with no chance of you making it past the reef without drowning. How far were you from the nearest base? You recall Grace once mentioning there were small base units scattered across Pandora. Maybe there was one here?

After remembering all RDA machinery has built in navigators in case of emergencies, you walk back towards the wreckage. The ship was now less than half of its original size. But the question was, how did it even get here? All ISV ships were only supposed to operate in deep space. You were supposed to wake up and be transported on a Valkyrie to the base where you'd meet Grace. So how in the world did the ISV get here?

You entered the ship once again to look for the control panels. Once located, you try to turn them on. But of course, the panel was worn down and rusted. To your dismay, you angrily slam your hands onto the panels. Something you hit must've turned something on because the screen displayed an old recording.

"This is our final log before everything shuts down. The last ship has left and we are hoping this video reaches someone. We need help.

Once the systems shut down, we will have no contact with the RDA headquarters. If anyone gets this, these are our coordinates."

The pilot held up a piece of paper with some numbers on it. Were those coordinates where you ended up? Maybe you could still find everyone else.

"We won't make it. The ones in cryo will. The ship will continue maintaining the people's body temperatures until they either wake up or the ship goes down. But we don't have a chance.

The time is 21:37 and the date is July 15th, 2154. This is Team Beta signing out." The screen goes blank once again."

2154. Two years into your cryo journey. People who underwent cryosleep could stay under for long periods of time and not age. It was scary how long they could remain asleep. But you couldn't have been asleep for more than the six year trip. Right?

You continue to look around what was left of the ship, hoping to find something of use. There were a few extra oxygen masks, an unloaded gun, and a bunch of useless things. You took a spare mask, the gun, and set off into the wooded area of the island. Although you were practically defenceless, the gun could probably act as a threat if you encountered another human.

The jungle was scary to say the least. You continuously looked over your shoulder in case some animal wanted to attack you. And the large roots of the trees cause you to almost roll an ankle. If you could just find a way to leave or contact the other back at the forest, maybe you could make it out alive.

Surprisingly, there weren't many animals on the island, just a few harmless ones wandering around in search of food. And the plants. Oh the plants were more beautiful than any picture you've ever seen. All the vibrant colors seemed to only increase as the hours went on.

Nights on Pandora were known to be dangerous. Grace would always be in the lab at night to protect her and her avatar. But that was in the forest that was probably hundreds if not thousands of miles away. You found shelter under some exposed tree roots, tucking yourself away from the outside.

The sun rose early and the eclipse happened late on Pandora, meaning you had more time to explore your surroundings. You quickly continue your journey to the other side of the island after waking up and realising you were still alive. The hopes of finding other humans being the only thing that kept you going.

The island was huge. Or at least huge for your little human legs because you seemed to be walking for what seemed like forever. The trees finally begin thinning out once you see another strip of beach. This time there were sea creatures swimming around near the shore, splashing about under the sun. You step closer to take a good look at the creatures. They're nothing like any of the creatures you've seen from Grace's research. One of the creatures seems to notice you approach it, swimming closer.

"Hello!" You smile. The cool water now reached your knees as the waves crashed into you. "Can you help me find my way to the forest?" The animal only cocked its head, obviously unable to understand you.

"Who am I kidding, I'm probably going to die soon anyways. This Oxygen mask is only good for a few days. And I only grabbed one extra." You point to the mask tied to your waist.

The creature circles around you as if to examine you. As it does, you notice the handle connecting the two queues together. Someone was riding it. As you reach out to grab the handle, something behind you grabs at your hair and pulls you backwards.

You kick at your captor but with little success. They hold a knife at your neck, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You feel yourself being tied up and pushed forward.

"Olo'eyktan! We found this demon wandering around the ilus." You were harshly shoved forward, causing you to stumble into the sand. Despite the use of their native tongue, you were able to understand the foreign language. Having practiced for years before leaving Earth.

"Skxawng." You mutter. Large hands wrap around your arms, forcing you up to face the na'vi in front of you. The Olo'eyktan. Clan leader. He stood before you, towering over you.

"What is your business here?" He broke the silence.

"I mean no harm. I don't know how I ended up here." You respond with your broken na'vi. It wasn't the best but they seemed to understand you just fine.

"Bring her to the pod. We'll talk later." He waved you off. You were quickly dragged away towards a pod-like room. The warriors threw you into the pod and closed the curtains.

"If you leave, we will have no choice but to kill you."

Great. First you were going to die due to oxygen shortage and now you're going to die by the hands of Pandora's natives. How fun. You sat in the pod, knees brought up to your chest as you thought about how you could have been in the forest by now. Studying plant life with Grace.

You must've dozed off again because the next time you open your eyes, you're tied up again in front of the clan leader and who you can only assume is his mate. The woman steps forward, walking in circles around you, taking in your features.

"Why have you come to us?" She scowled at you.

"I was trying to get to the forest. I don't know how I got here." You watch her grab your hands. Your five fingers look out of place compared to her four.

"Sky people bring nothing but pain to na'vi. We should get rid of it." You were taken aback. More so at the fact that you were just referred to as an 'it' rather than the talk about killing you. You've had too many death scares to be phased at this point.

"I'm telling you. I just want to find Dr. Grace Augustine." You plead. What happened the last time humans came to Pandora to get such a hostile attitude? "I don't mean any harm."

"And who is this 'Grace Augustine." The Olo'eyktan narrowed his eyes at you.

"She's a scientist." You vaguely answer. All you could do was pray to whatever god there was on Pandora that you weren't seen as a threat.

You don't know how you did it, but you managed to make it out of there alive. With the promise to help Ronal, the Tsahik, collect ingredients and run errands, you were able to keep your life. You were brought back to the pod which now doubled as your home to rest. Apparently, there was a family staying on this island that came from the forest. Maybe they could help you.

The salty breeze reminded you of home. How the few remaining beaches would blow the familiar smell into your face. You sighed, stepping out of your pod and walking around the village. The na'vi could only stare at you as you walked by. How could their leader allow a demon to stay?

You found yourself wandering near the shore. The clear water displayed the vast marine life below the surface. One of the creatures from earlier began swimming up to you. An ilu as you learned, was a common mode of transportation among the reef people. Although you could not physically bond with the creature, it seemed to take a liking to you.

"What are you doing with my ilu." You heard a voice coming from behind you. Turning your head, you saw a tall figure. Tattoos covering his arm and face. Despite looking around your age, he towered over you. Sure, he was a completely different species but you liked to think you were tall for a human.

"Sorry it just swam up to me." You move away from the sea creature. The male watching you the entire time. Eyeing you up and down at your awkward movements. You reminded him of a baby. Just learning how to walk. "Well I better go!" You sped away from the scene.

After walking a safe distance, you sit down on a patch of grass in the forest behind the village. Nobody seemed to be around so you finally allowed yourself to breathe. Your mask begins fogging up slightly as you take in deep breaths of oxygen. Everything still felt surreal. What if you were really still in cryo and you were on your way to the forest. No. People don't dream in cryo so that can't be it.

You sigh as you head back towards your marui, na'vi clearing the way as you walk by. As you walk past the beach, you see a dark blue na'vi sitting on the sand. Her short blue hair blowing softly in the breeze. She looks like someone you know.

Like Grace.

"Grace?!" You run up to her. The girl turns her head to you as you run up to her. Shock written on her features. "How come you never told me you were here?" You remember seeing Grace's avatar in the background of the calls every now and then. The girl before you had a striking resemblance. But wasn't Grace supposed to be in the forest?

"How do you know my mothers name?" She glares at you.

The color drains from your face. Grace had a kid? How come you never knew about her? Were you really asleep for that long?

"I'm sorry- you just look like someone I know." You shake your head. There was no way this na'vi was related to Grace. No way in hell. You turn around and walk away, embarrassment evident of your heated cheeks.

"Wait!" She grabs your hand. "How do you know Grace?"

"My mother used to work with her. I was supposed to join her in the forest and research plants with her." You explain. The girl in front of you begins to pull you away as you continue explaining your situation. Soon enough, you find yourself in front of a pod.

"Come." She leads you inside.

When you step inside, you see a man sitting on the floor preparing food. A woman sits beside him. "Father. I brought someone." The girl takes a seat next to the man. He looks up at you, yellow eyes scanning your figure. "She says she knows Grace."

Both adults look at you with wide eyes. "Ma Jake." The woman speaks. Jake? As in Jake Sully?

"Kid?" The male, Jake, mumbles.

Jake would always call you 'kid' when he saw you on call. The nickname brought back memories. "Jake?" You look at the man. The more you look at him, the more he looks like the soldier you once knew. The resemblance was uncanny. "What are you doing here? Where's Grace?" You point to the girl.

"What do you mean where's Grace- What year do you think it is?"

"Isn't it supposed to be 2158?" You quickly do the math in your head. If the video you saw back on the ship took place two years after your journey started, then it should be four years later assuming everything still went smoothly. Jake looked at the woman beside him and then back to you. "What?"

"It's 2173... You were asleep for 15 years..."

A/N: Hi! I really hope you liked part 1 of the series! I have been a bit busy so I delayed the update a little bit but here it is! I'm slowly getting a vague idea on where this series is going so stay tuned! The next update might take a little longer since my weekend is looking a little hectic but I will get it up as soon as possible!

Thank you guys so much for reading and have an amazing day/night! <3

To those who wanted to be tagged: @eywas-heir @sunshinewwx @ducks118 @tiredsoulsorry @thecrazyswamp @ambria @lovekeeho @zeroqueen0555

#aonung x reader #avatar x reader #avatar #avatar twow #avatar the way of water #aonung

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ao3commentoftheday · 7 months

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Hi. First of all I would like to thank you for answering all kinds of asks. Reading what you have to say is very informative. I’ve been writing fanfic and have been posting it on AO3 for quite some years now and usually I know how to tag my relationships but I’m not so sure about one I recently started. My main stories are generally Fictional Male Character / Original Female Character and in a way this new story is just that, but they don’t end up together. They are in love and my OC has talked about her feelings and the guy she’s into has only thought about them but won't tell anyone and has also thought about one day hopefully asking her out and having a future together but because of the life they’re living, they know they can’t pursue a relationship at the moment, so they plan on waiting (they’re not aware the other likes them in return or at least she isn’t, they just know they can’t bring their feelings up just yet). Unfortunately one of them dies tragically before they get the chance to and the other lives on. So here I’m not sure whether I should use the & or the /. I originally thought of using the & but I’m not sure how to make clear that they are into each other in the tags. Should I even? I could add something in the Additional Tags like ‘Requited Love’ but I’m not entirely sure. Hope this makes sense. Thanks a bunch in advance and hope you have a good day ahead of you.

In a case like this, I think it's a good idea to zoom out. What is the overall vibe of the fic? Is it romantic? Even if it doesn't have a happy ending, if the characters themselves are mostly thinking about their relationship in those terms and the story is largely about their relationship with each other, then I'd say the / is merited. If the characters are mostly considering each other friends and just have a little crush or a daydream now and again but the plot is about something other than their relationship, the & might work out to be a better idea.

Another way to think of it is: would someone who doesn't ship it still want to read this fic? If the answer is no, then you should use the / so when they filter out the / tag, they filter out your fic.

Additional tags really will be your friends here. There's actually an Requited Unrequited Love tag that might be what you're looking for? Or perhaps Not Actually Unrequited Love. Or maybe Possibly Unrequited Love. You can also use ones like unhappy ending, idiots in love, fluff/angst etc (whichever fits the mood) and the archive warning for MCD or Author Chose not to Warn.

You can also create your own tag if you're not sure what canonical one might be right. Unspoken Love Confession, for example.

What do the rest of you think? Any advice for anon?

#asks and answers #you're very welcome btw #it feels nice to answer asks again #for the first time in an EON

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sickficideas · 9 months

Text

nice try || SSKK sickfic

ao3! 7.1k - please refer to the tags in the link for content + warnings! sicktember 2023, day 7: "you're a jerk when you're sick"

Atsushi really doesn’t think Akutagawa should be on this mission. He's already the most difficult person in the world to work with, but he's somehow even more stubborn and rude when he's ill.

"We don't need the two of us waiting here or the informant. Go ahead and head back to your agency," Akutagawa grumbles, stepping back into the shade with his arms crossed over his chest. He coughs twice, only briefly covering his mouth, likely thinking Atsushi didn’t notice.

Atsushi huffs. He moves so he's standing in front of him and puts his hands on his hips to show he's staying where he is, but even while he's in Akutagawa's view, the latter's avert him completely.

"Dazai told us both to stay here in case they cross us," Atsushi huffs. "You want to go against his orders?"

"You're far too incompetent. Even if they were to betray us, I could easily handle a traitor on my own,” Akutagawa huffs. He’s so delusional that he thinks Dazai would praise him for something like that. Atsushi doesn’t even want to think about the scary face Dazai would make if he found out Akutagawa did something like he’s suggesting.

“Well, I’m not leaving, so suck it up,” Atsushi tells him, leaning against the wall beside him, a safe distance away in case he tries to do something.

Akutagawa looks like he wants to say something back, but instead a hand comes up to cover his mouth as he starts to cough again. Atsushi is used to that by now, but today, it sounds worse. It sounds hoarse, like it’s been happening more than usual and his throat is sore from the strain., but it sounds deeper too. Not like the usual dainty coughs he’s used to hearing from him. His shoulders are nearly hunched over as he coughs into his hand.

Atsushi has learned not to say anything. He really doesn’t have any idea why he coughs all the time. Maybe he’s a smoker, maybe he’s got a sensitive throat - it’s anyone’s guess, but he knows that if he ever bothered to ask, Akutagawa would not give him a straight answer.

Atushsi takes note of how Akutagawa checks his hand as he pulls it back from his mouth. Strange. He crosses his arms back over his chest.

“Do you want some water or something?” Atsushi asks, sounding a little more accusatory than he means to.

“No, but it’d be nice if you would let me decapitate you,” Akutagawa mumbles in a soft voice. He almost sounds out of breath.

"You're a real jerk when you're sick. You know that?" Atsushi huffs.

"I think you've said this today already," Akutagawa says, rolling his eyes. "Come up with something else."

"I take it back, you're actually a jerk all the time. You're just more of a jerk when you're sick,” Atsushi groans. He’s so over it. He wants to call Dazai and ask if he really needs to be here. He highly doubts most foes need a team as combative as the two of them. Akutagawa probably could handle it on his own, but Dazai wants the two of them to work together, for some reason.

"I'm not sick. Stop saying that,” Akutagawa murmurs. “It’s just this ocean air.”

Atsushi doesn't even feel like arguing with him anymore. Akutagawa is so frustratingly stubborn, it's unbelievable. Atsushi knows he’s sick. He can see the sweat along his hairline from here, even six feet away, but he’s shivering. There’s a bit of a breeze from the ocean on the ship, but not enough to make someone shiver, even though they’re in the middle of fall.

"When is he supposed to get here?" Atsushi huffs.

"I don't know,” Akutagawa says simply.

“Okay, then I’m gonna look around the boat. Just yell if you need something,” Atsushi mumbles.

“I will most certainly not be doing that,” Akutagawa says, rolling his eyes.

Atsushi wants to kick him in the neck.

He decides to spend some time looking around the docked boat, for no reason other than the fact that he’s bored waiting and he doesn’t want to waste more precious seconds of his life talking to Akutagawa.

It’s unremarkable. The boat is called The Hellscreen, which is a scary name for something that just sails the seas. It’s a yacht, he’s been told, or rather very rudely informed by Akutagawa. Atsushi doesn’t know the first the about boats. He just knows this one is fancy, and they’re waiting for the captain to arrive, to hand off important information relevant to both the Port Mafia boss and Fukuzawa, information Atsushi and Akutagawa aren’t allowed to know the details of.

All they were instructed to do was wait for him, take the envelope, and in case they are suspicious of the captain in any way, they were to detain him until backup arrived. Simple enough, for Atsushi, anyway.

Atsushi sort of wants to dip without saying anything, but they were ordered not to kill, and even though he’s already made a promise not to, Atsushi isn’t sure he trusts him.

A half hour or so passes, and Atushsi finds nothing of interest. He only manages to meet back with Akutagawa because he lost track over which parts of the yacht he’s already explored.

Akutagawa is leaning on the railing of the yacht when Atsushi returns, the shade having extended that far, by now. Atsushi is thrown off, seeing Akutagawa look so weirdly casual. He’s sure he hasn’t relaxed a day in his life. But then, he notices the tension in his shoulders.

Atsushi's taken note of how his breaths have become labored and forced. That's not right, he knows that for sure. He seemed a little short of breath earlier when he was talking, but Atsushi didn’t pay much mind to that until now.

He's sort of thrown for a loop when Akutagawa suddenly leans over the railing to vomit into the water. It’s followed by a series of harsh sounding coughs, ones that somehow sound worse than before. Atsushi almost say something, but the coughing turns into choking and sputtering, and he throws up again. It sounds painful. He ducks his head into his arms with a pained groan, and Atsushi can’t help but notice that breaths still don’t sound any better.

"Are you - are you okay?" Atsushi asks. He’s not sure he should be asking.

"It's motion sickness,” Akutagawa bites, not lifting his head. Atsushi watches his shoulders shake. “Stop talking to me."

"You don’t have to stay on the boat,” Atsushi murmurs. It’s not that he feels bad or anything, but it’s just inconvenient for him to be here if it’s making him sick, he thinks. That’s all. “You can wait on the dock. I’ll stay here.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Weretiger,” Akutagawa growls.

Atsushi takes a few steps close to him, thinking he might end up regretting it. Akutagawa is trembling, he realizes. He’s in pain. Something’s not right. “I’m just saying. It might be better anyway, maybe you can keep watch from the dock, or -”

“I told you,” Akutagawa starts, venom lacing his tone before he whips his head up and turns to face Atsushi a little too quickly, he’ll soon find out, “don’t -”

Atsushi could have seen it coming a mile away with how fast he moved his head, but he watches his eyes roll back and his knees bucking underneath him, and Atsushi isn’t a horrible person. Maybe Akutagawa would have let Atsushi fall on his face if their roles were reversed, but he can’t let that happen for him. He catches him, fully expecting Akutagawa to shout or attack as soon as he regains consciousness, which must be any second now.

But he’s silent, and completely still, even after the mental ten seconds Atsushi gives him to recover. Akutagawa’s labored breaths land against his chest as Atsushi lowers the both of them to the ground.

Shit. He's completely unconscious. He’s not showing any sign of waking up. Atsushi thought it was maybe just a head rush, but he really, actually passed out.

"Akutagawa?" Atsushi mumbles. It comes out like a squeak. He lays him down on the deck, sliding him down from his arms, so he's lying on his side. He's afraid to move him at all, worried Akutagawa might decapitate him without a moment's notice, but he receives no reaction, no attempt at trying to move, let alone get up and bark back at him.

Atsushi still has a hand on his shoulder, worried he might roll forward into his face, and he can feel his hot skin burning even through his coat. He’s absolutely ridiculous for wearing a coat like this when he so obviously has a fever, but his body shivers gently like he's cold. He should probably take it off of him, but he needs to reevaluate his situation.

“Please don't kill me," Atsushi groans to himself as he scoops an arm under Akutagawa's knees and the other under his neck, with little to no reaction from him other than a tiny, pathetic grunt. Atsushi is so tense that the effort hurts, but he thinks he has every reason to be. He's holding a ridiculously unpredictable mafia killing machine in his arms, after all.

He thinks for now, he'll take him inside the cockpit that they've been standing outside of, at least for some cover. Atsushi isn't sure if he really threw up because of motion sickness or something else, but either way, cover is more important when he's completely out like this. They have to keep their guard up.

He's incredibly lucky the door isn't locked, but the captain had told Dazai he left it that way in case they wanted to be inside. Akutagawa said waiting in there was too dangerous, and Atsushi has to at least agree on that. He manages to open the door with his tail and slides in, closing it behind him.

There's long, cushioned benches on either side of the cockpit, and Atsushi gently lays him down on the nearest one. Akutagawa's head lulls to the side once Atsushi steps back, and he thinks for a moment that he's awake already, but still - nothing.

His breathing really doesn't sound good. It's shallow, short, like it's painful to breathe any deeper. Atsushi thinks he probably has a serious cold, but he's not admitting it no matter the case.

He grits his teeth as he remembers he told himself he would take Akutagawa's coat off. It might be good in the end, too, if he can't use it to attack Atsushi when he wakes up, so he moves Akutagawa as gently as possible to sit up so he can undo the buttons on the coat and slide off the sleeves, one by one. He lays him back down, haphazardly folds the coat and lays it down on the other side of the bench.

Now what? Should he call Dazai? He still has the number of Akutagawa's assistant. He saved it in his phone, but he won't use it to call her. He'd need to find a pay phone. Unless, maybe he could find Akutagawa's cellphone.

He makes sure to check outside the door in case the captain has arrived, but he doesn't see any sign of him. So as he pulls the door back shut, decides he's going to look for Akutagawa's cellphone - at least, until he sees him open his eyes.

"Oh, hey," Atsushi starts nervously, not wanting to get too close to him, "you passed out on the deck, so…"

His explanation trails off as he watches Akutagawa's eyes grow wide and he scrambles to sit up. They're wider than Atsushi's has ever seen them. His hair is in disarray, sticking in all sorts of directions, some of it plastered to his forehead from the sweat his fever is causing.

Atsushi knows that look. He's felt it before. Waking up in an unfamiliar place is a horrifying feeling, he's woken up in full blown panic attacks because of that before. Even though Akutagawa was only out for a few minutes, he's scared.

Atsushi's heart feels heavy with guilt.

"We're in the cockpit on the yacht. You passed out like, five minutes ago," he stammers, but he's not sure that's enough. Akutagawa doesn't look relieved in the slightest, he looks terribly confused. He grasps at the fabric on his sleeve and almost looks like he's gotten to breathe when he realizes he's not wearing his coat.

"Where's - what did you - "

He breaks into a violent coughing fit, hunched over and coughing into his hand, somehow sounding worse than before. It's not so dry this time, either.

Atsushi catches a hint of the scent of blood, but he dismisses it. That couldn't be right, anyway.

"Where's…my coat," he somehow manages between coughs as it dies down, each one on the downtick sounding just as painful as the one before it. He looks exhausted. Atsushi can imagine that takes a lot out of him.

"You don't need that right now. You've got a fever," Atsushi murmurs.

Akutagawa sort of hangs his head as he lays a hand over his chest. He's more focused on something else right now, but Atsushi isn't sure what exactly that is. It might be his breathing. He's trying to slow it down, maybe, but his lungs don't seem to be cooperating. It almost seems like he can't really take a deep breath at all.

"Give it back," he says quietly, not lifting his head. He still sounds short of breath. He sounds defeated.

"I'll give it back, but don't put it on," Atsushi mumbles as he approaches the other end of the bench.

"Don't tell me what to do," Akutagawa huffs. A few coughs interrupt him, but thankfully, it doesn't seem to break him into a coughing fit like before.

Atsushi takes the coat from where he laid it down and hands it to him, expecting him to snatch it back, sure, but he rips it from Atsushi’s grip like he's taking something away from him that he can't live without. Atsushi steps back and gingerly shows his hands to show he doesn't mean any harm. Akutagawa brings it close to his chest like it’s a blanket he needs to fall asleep, curling his fists into it and lowering his head.

He looks miserable.

Atsushi sees the captain on the dock through the window and he squeaks, briefly telling Akutagawa to stay where he is before he disappears through the door.

“You’re with the Armed Detective Agency?” The captain asks. He’s a well dressed man in all white, carrying a black envelope. He looks a bit confused to see Atsushi exiting the cockpit, standing in front of the door. He hopes he doesn’t need to go inside.

“Yes - yes, sir. Atsushi Nakajima, nice to meet you,” Atsushi says, bowing his head politely. The captain bows back.

“There were supposed to be two of you. Can I please see your ID, detective?” The captain says. Atsushi bites his lip. Dazai did tell him to look for two people. Atsushi digs in his pockets for his wallet and finds it in the back left, scrambling to flip to the side that features his employee ID. The captain looks it over with a nod.

“I’m sorry, sir. I…my, uh…” Atsushi pauses. What does he even call Akutagawa? He’s not his friend. He’s not his co-worker. “My…my partner, he’s uh, injured. I told him he should sit down for a while. I didn’t mean to trespass or anything.”

“I see. It’s no trouble, as long as everything is left intact. Does your partner need medical attention?” The captain asks. That’s kind of him. Akutagawa definitely needs medical attention, but he has a feeling he shouldn’t get the captain involved with that.

“Oh, he’s…it’s not too serious. I’ll make sure a doctor sees him today,” Atsushi says, accidentally making a commitment. He would really just like to get this envelope and be on his way.

“If it’s not too serious, I’d like to meet your partner as well. Just to cover my bases and verify your identities,” The captain says sternly. He seems a bit suspicious.

Atsushi’s heart drops. He doesn’t want to make Akutagawa walk out here, especially to meet someone when he looks the way that he does - but if he says no, the captain may refuse to give him the envelope, and then Atsushi will have a whole new kind of problem.

“Oh…yeah, of course. I’ll, uh, be right back,” Atsushi murmurs, taking the door handle to let himself in and close it behind him without any room for the captain to follow him. It is his own boat after all, he has every right to do so.

Akutagawa is still on the bench, except he’s sitting now, the coat laying over his lap, both hands twisted in the fabric. He’s holding onto it for dear life, almost. Atsushi didn’t realize the coat was that important to him, although, if it’s his ability, it makes sense.

Akutagawa very slowly turns his head to look at Atsushi, eyes focused and pointed but heavy with exhaustion.

“The captain says he needs to meet you too. Before he gives us the envelope,” Atsushi murmurs quietly. Akutagawa is already attempting to get up. He’s rather unsteady on his feet, and had to use the bench as leverage to stand up, but Atsushi knows he’ll refuse any offers for help. He manages to slide his arms into he sleeves of the coat without much issue.

His hair still sort of looks like a mess. He approaches the door and Atsushi resists the very strong urge to at least rustle his bangs up so the sweat isn’t so obvious, but not for long. He reaches forward and does it before he can convince himself not to, and Akutagawa flinches backward, eyes wide.

“W - “

“Let’s go,” Atsushi says, opening the door and walking in front of him.

Akutagawa stands in front of the door, now, politely bowing his head, much more discreetly than Atsushi had.

“Good to meet you. And you are?” The captain asks.

“I have no reason to give you my name,” Akutagawa says coldly. Atsushi stiffens. Now is really not the time to be rude.

“I know you’re with the Port Mafia. I have no issue with that. I’m simply asking your name to verify your identity,” The captain says.

Akutagawa averts his gaze.

“Ryuunosuke Akutagawa,” he answers. Atsushi realizes he’s never heard his first name before. It’s nice.

“Alright. And I have two questions for each of you to continue my confirmation. Think of them as…security questions, when you’ve forgotten your password,” The captain says. “For you, detective. What is your mother’s first name?”

Atsushi feels sick.

What kind of question is that?

He never knew his parents. The headmaster told him thinks about what they did to Atsushi, but he doesn’t remember them. He has no idea what they look like, let alone either of their names. What is he supposed to say?

“I don’t know,” Atsushi murmurs, his eyes drifting down to the deck flooring. “I never knew her name.”

“Alright, good,” The captain says, evidently satisfied with the answer, and Atsushi realizes that was the correct one. It’s a trick question. Anyone trying to impersonate him might have known the answer, but Atsushi didn’t. “And you, Akutagawa. Where did you live when you were twelve years old?”

Akutagawa seems to have a similar reaction to his question. His eyes are wide, at least, as wide as they can be in his state. But his expression very quickly shifts into anger.

“I’m not answering that,” he snaps. He almost staggers sideways, clearly still rather unsteady on his feet.

“I need you to,” The captain says. “I already know the answer. I’m just asking you to confirm it. Only you would know the answer to this.”

Akutagawa opens his mouth to shout something obscene, he’s sure that’s his plan, but Atsushi is able to distract him by lifting his hands up and pressing them against his ears. He’s not sure why, but he thinks Akutagawa simply doesn’t want Atsushi to hear the answer. And he can respect that. They’re not friends, after all.

Akutagawa stares at him for a moment, not catching on right away to what he’s doing, but he sees the anger fade just a bit after a second, and Atsushi turns his head away to allow Akutagawa to answer, so that he won’t hear it.

But he hears it anyway.

That damn Tiger’s hearing.

Suribachi City.

Atsushi’s shoulders drop a little bit. The slums?

Akutagawa is from the slums?

Atsushi very slowly lowers his hands and just barely catches the end of the captain saying very good before thanking the two of them, He thinks this is a strange way to verify someone’s idenity, but maybe the captain has an ability and this is relevant. Maybe Dazai set this up. He’s not sure, but either way, he doesn’t like it.

The captain hands Atsushi the envelope.

“Thank you to you both. I have some business to attend to at the Marina Club. Feel free to stay here if you’d like, and please make sure your injury is tended to,” the captain says, directing that last part to Akutagawa. Akutagawa makes a very displeased, confused expression as Atsushi bows the captain away, and soon enough, he’s gone.

Akutagawa is quiet for a few moments, and Atsushi is at a loss of what to say. Normally, he thinks Akutagawa would have just been on his way without a word to Atsushi, but he doesn’t move.

At least, until he bolts toward the railing choke up a mouthful of vomit into the water again. Atsushi yelps at how quickly he managed that, and he realizes Akutagawa was likely just waiting for the captain to leave the boardwalk.

Akutagawa grips onto the railing, tight, but one hand comes up to lay against his chest as he starts to cough again. It’s only a few times, but they’re wet and deep, and they make him vomit again, nearly missing to get over the railing. His knees collapse in on themselves and he leans heavily against the railing once he’s on the ground, keeping that hand on his chest.

"You need to go to a hospital or something," Atsushi mumbles, carefully approaching him.

"Nice try," Akutagawa chokes out, not daring to lift his head. He tries to use the railing to stand himself back up, but his legs are shaking so much that they’re completely unreliable to stand on, and he comes back down to the deck. "You…really must take me for some kind of fool."

"What the hell do you mean, nice try?" Atsushi scoffs. He can’t stand this guy. What’s wrong with thinking he needs help when he looks so miserable?

"I'll get arrested if I'm admitted to a public hospital," Akutagawa growls, his faze only then turning up to glare at Atsushi, eyes like those of a hungry wolf. "You've seen my wanted posters, haven't you, Weretiger?"

Atsushi's shoulders sink. "I didn't think about that, actually."

"Just go," Akutagawa huffs, leaning his head to the side.

"What? I'm not leaving you here,” Atsushi grumbles. “You can't even stand up."

"Why does it matter to you?" Akutagawa asks quietly.

Why does it matter? He could simply head home right now, if he really wanted to. It shouldn’t make a difference to him how Akutagawa gets home, if he sees a doctor. He’s not his babysitter.

"Just cause I hate your guts doesn't mean I want you to suffer," Atsushi mumbles quietly.

"I was in a coma for a week because of you," Akutagawa huffs with a shaky breath. "Don't give me that."

"That was different, you kidnapped me and Kyoka cause you're a psychopath," Atsushi snaps before really taking in what Akutagawa said.

A coma?

"So I've been told,” Akutagawa breathes out, letting his eyes fall shut as he lets his head lull to the side just a bit.

He's really starting to look out of it, now. He almost had Atsushi fooled for a moment in an encounter with the captain. He seemed composed and put together, but now he seems to have literally started to fall apart. He can't even stand up, at least not in this moment.

The way he's breathing is deeply concerning. It somehow sounds worse. He takes note of how he tries to take a deep breath, but all it brings him is a round of painful sounding coughs. Atsushi doesn't know what to do.

Akutagawa seems to have lost the ability to care about Atsushi being in his vicinity, he doesn't even remotely try to protest his presence.

"I'm gonna call Dazai real quick. To let him know we got the envelope," Atsushi says. Akutagawa's shoulders stiffen at the mention of Dazai, but not for long. He quickly sinks back.

Atsushi wanders to the bow of the ship before he makes the phone call, out of earshot from Akutagawa.

"Dazai," Atsushi mumbles as soon as the ringing stops.

"What's the matter? Is everything okay?" he asks. He sounds more intrigued than concerned, but he seems to recognize that something isn't right.

"Well - we…we got the envelope. Everything went well, but, Akutagawa…" Atsushi murmurs, staring at the envelope in his hands. What does he even say? What would Dazai do about Akutagawa's condition? They can't take him to a hospital. "I don't know, something's wrong. I think he's really sick, Dazai."

He hears Dazai sigh over the phone. "How sick? Is he unconscious?"

"No, he's…he passed out, but he's awake now. It just seems like…" Atsushi murmurs, and an idea comes to mind. "Do you think…could Yosano help him? I can't take him to a public hospital, he'd get arrested, so maybe -"

"Atsushi, she won't use her ability for the Port Mafia. I can tell you that now," Dazai tells him sternly. Atsushi shrinks. He can't force Yosano to help anyone, sure, but it feels wrong to just leave him here. He can't let it go, for some reason.

"But he needs help," Atsushi mumbles. "I can't just…I can't just leave him. Something's really wrong, Dazai."

"I'll let Chuuya know it's done and he will be there soon. He can take him to the extraction point," Dazai tells him. "He's not your responsibility, Atsushi."

"I'm gonna stay here until Chuuya gets here, then," Atsushi mumbles. "I wouldn't…I wouldn't want someone to leave me while I'm that sick. I can't do it."

Dazai is quiet for a moment, and if it's not already impossible to tell what he's thinking in person, it's certainly impossible right now. He can't even begin to guess.

"Alright, I'll see you when you get back, Atsushi," he says.

"Yeah, see you," Atsushi says quietly. Dazai hangs up.

Atsushi is sure he's better off waiting over here, but he feels like he needs to be closer. He's starting to get this irrational fear that Akutagawa will suddenly stop breathing.

He wanders back over towards him. Akutagawa is leaning with his back against the railing and his knees pulled into his chest, eyes looking nowhere in particular. It's obvious he doesn't feel good, but Atsushi feels like every time he turns around, Akutagawa looks about fifty percent worse than before. His eyes are unfocused and his cheeks are red to match his eyes.

"Chuuya will be here soon to meet you," Atsushi tells him. "Maybe we can wait inside, or -"

“You heard me,” Akutagawa murmurs.

Atsushi freezes for a second before he tilts his head. What is he talking about? Is it something about not telling him what to do? Atsushi didn't really order him around, so he's not sure what he means.

Maybe his fever is starting to talk.

“Heard what?” Atsushi asks. He sits down a few feet away from him, his legs crossed.

“The answer,” Akuatagwa murmurs.

Oh. His answer to the captain's question.

Atsushi isn't sure what to say, because he can't tell how Akutagawa feels about it. It seems like he's upset, at least a little bit, but he thinks he sounds more defeated than anything else, like it's a secret he never intended on sharing with anyone, let alone Atsushi. Atsushi could apologize, make it awkward, but he doesn't think Akutagawa would react well to any of that.

“I knew some kids at the orphanage from Suribachi City," Atsushi says instead, lowering his head as he starts to study the woodwork on the deck. He remembers one in particular, a girl who was practically emaciated, covered in scars and healing wounds, missing a few fingers from wild dogs. The others weren't much different from her, either. It's hard to imagine Akutagawa in that kind of state, especially at ten years old.

Akutagawa ducks his head down. He's shivering again, but Atsushi can't tell if it's chills from whatever illness is plaguing him, or he's shaking.

“I knew someone who escaped from an orphanage,” Akutagawa manages, the sound muffled. “I saw a lot of kids like that.”

Atsushi bites his lip. He’s known people to do the same. He’s wanted to try it himself, but he remembers one instance of a kid who froze to death outside trying to escape. She was used as an example. You're safest in here. He shudders at the thought.

“I was…I was the only ability user I knew,” Akutagawa says quietly, having to stop once to take some breaths. “He told me…he knew an ability user at the orphanage. Or, he thought him to be one. I always thought…he must have imagined it…"

Atsushi isn't sure where he's going with that, but he's too afraid to ask. Akutagawa lifts his head, just to cough into his hand. It's only two or three times, but they still sound so painful. Atsushi thinks he sees spots of blood in his hand, but he can't be sure from where he's sitting. He's probably just seeing things.

“You should wait inside the cockpit or something,” Atsushi murmurs nervously. “Didn’t you say the ocean air is bad for you?”

Akutagawa doesn’t say anything, he just lowers his hand and makes eye contact with Atsushi. He’s not all there. Atsushi can’t be sure, but he thinks the fever he has must be really high, that look in his eyes just isn’t right. It’s not Akutagawa.

A chill runs up Atsushi’s spine when he hears a huff come from behind him.

It's almost as if Chuuya appears on the deck instantaneously. Atsushi didn't see him coming. He heard footsteps somewhere, looking back on it, but didn’t think they were on the deck already.

"What're you still doin' here, Weretiger?" Chuuya growls. He sounds mean, but Atsushi doesn't think he means to shoo him away. He almost sounds curious, tilting his head down at Atsushi, a hand on his hip as Atsushi turns his head to face him.

“I - uh,” Atsushi mumbles, standing up and patting down his pants, for some reason feeling the need to look presentable in front of him. Chuuya is starting to look impatient, and his head starts to turn away from him. “I just - well, Dazai said…”

Chuuya suddenly rushes past him in Akutagawa’s direction, and Atsushi realizes he’s completely missed Akutagawa attempting to stand up, and now, it looks like he’s unconscious in Chuuya’s arms.

Chuuya almost effortlessly shifts Akutagawa so that he can easily carry him like Atsushi did earlier. Except, he keeps him lowered on the ground for a moment to lay the back of his hand against his cheek.

“How long’s he been breathin’ like this?” Chuuya asks, running a hand through Akutagawa’s hair. He bites his lip.

“Um…pretty much the whole time, I think,” Atsushi says. His eyes trail down to Akutagawa’s hand, the same one he coughed into earlier, and his stomach drops when he realizes those are spots of blood in his hand.

Chuuya nods and scoops Akutagawa back up into his arms, but Atsushi stays where he is, eyes wide and hoping for some sort of explanation. Chuuya looks like he’s only seconds away from leaving the deck, but Atsushi stops him.

“Wait - ”

Chuuya turns, that same scowl on his face. Atsushi’s eys drift down to Akutagawa, who’s still breathing heavy and shallow. He looks like he’s in a lot of pain, even half-conscious like this, his face all twisted up. “What?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Atsushi asks. He has a feeling Chuuya is sort of familiar with Akutagawa’s weak state right now, based on his reaction.

“It’s probably pneumonia again,” Chuuya answers quietly.

“Again?” Atsushi clarifies. His heart sinks. He’s had pneumonia once before while at the orphanage. It was so miserable that he’s forgotten much of it.

"He always gets hit real hard like this. Doesn’t take good care of his health," Chuuya mumbles, his eyes on Akutagawa’s pale face for a moment before they dart back up at Atsushi, and the scowl has melted away. "Thanks for stayin' with him."

"Yeah…yeah, no problem."

Atsushi can’t take his eyes off of Akutagawa, even as Chuuya leaves.

…

"You're very distracted today, Atsushi. I need you to focus, we have a lot of work to do."

Kunikida’s stern voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

He sounds disappointed. Atsushi doesn’t want to disappoint him. He’s tired. He didn’t sleep well last night and for some reason he’s having a lot more trouble focusing on his work than what’s normal for him. His laptop is just staring him in the face.

“Right, right. I’m sorry,” Atsushi nods, his hands moving to the keyboard, even unsure what to do then. Mabe he should go down to the cafe or something and grab a coffee, but he knows he’s not just tired. The only thing swirling around his brain today is the image of Akutagawa unconscious in Chuuya’s arms.

He opens the web browser on his computer and takes one of the reports from the center of the tables, opening it to the first page. He can feel Dazai’s eyes on him.

Dazai didn’t say anything about Akutagawa yesterday when Atsushi returned to the agency, and while he didn’t expect him to - he’s probably certain Chuuya came to get him and that he’s getting treated now - Atsushi found it strange. It feels like there’s a rock in the pit of his stomach.

Once Kunikida wanders over to Junichiro’s desk to help him with something, Dazai speaks.

"What's on your mind, hm?" Dazai asks, his elbows propped up on the table and his head in his hands. "Akutagawa?"

Atsushi's shoulders shrink. He was sort of expecting this question, but he’s not sure how to answer it. "I just…I dunno. He was really sick, Dazai. Chuuya said he might have pneumonia.”

"I know. That's not uncommon for him, Atsushi. He doesn't have a good immune system," Dazai says with a little sigh. Atsushi isn’t sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or not. He kind of figured that last part, Akutgawa doesn’t seem like a super healthy person, but even so, this weird feeling is still settled in his stomach.

"Yeah?" he says, turning his head.

"Mhm. And they have good doctors in the Port Mafia too, you know. He'll be fine," Dazai says with a little nod.

Atsushi feels a little better, knowing that.

He doesn’t need to worry. Akutagawa has plenty of people looking after him, he’s sure about that.

"If you say so."

…

Two weeks later, Atsushi sees Akutagawa again.

The sun has just set, and Atsushi is outside the nearest train station following a lead on a case on Kunikida’s behalf when he sees him leaned against the wall outside of the station on the phone. He’s not wearing his usual coat, and he thinks he looks a little suspicious wearing tinted glasses at night, but it’s definitely him.

Akutagawa’s eyes dart over, like he knows someone is watching him. A scowl appears on his face.

He really looks ghastly, a word Atsushi can only imagine Akutagawa saying. His cheeks are sunken and his eyes look dull, like the life has been sucked out of them. Exhausted doesn’t sound like it’s good enough to describe him, but he certainly looks better than he did.

Atsushi was planning on just walking off, but Akutagawa is still glaring at him.

So Atsushi walks over, just as Akutagawa hangs up the phone. He’s still holding it, looking like he’ll snap it apart at any moment.

"Akutagawa?" Atsushi starts awkwardly.

"What do you want from me," Akutagawa grumbles. "Weretiger."

“First of all, we’re in public. I’m not stalking you,” Atsushi groans, rolling his eyes. He pauses for a moment to listen to Akutagawa’s breathing, and he’s relieved that it sounds a little more normal - but there’s a faint rattle when he breathes in that concerns him. "You still don't look great.”

"I was released from our hospital two days ago," he mumbles, turning his head to the side.

Two days ago?

Does that mean he was in the hospital all this time? Two weeks? He already figured he had pneumonia because of what Chuuya said, but being hospitalized for two weeks is such a long time.

Atsushi doesn't know what to say. He just stares, his brow furrowed.

"I don't heal as well as normal people. And certainly not as well as you," he grumbles, his eyes briefly turning back to Atsushi. "I'll be fine. Wipe that pathetic look off of your face, it's unbecoming."

"Oh - sorry," he says with a nod of his head. "I…"

"Don't say anything else," Akutagawa huffs.

Atsushi pouts. “Can I at least ask what it was?”

“Pneumonia,” Akutagawa says simply, like it was an obvious answer.

“Have you had it before?”

“Yes,” Akutagawa nods with a small sigh. He’s surprised he’s being so cooperative with his answers. Maybe he really is just more of a jerk when he’s not feeling well.

“I had it once too. It was miserable,” Atsushi murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. An apology won’t change anything,” Akutagawa says with a slightly more annoyed sigh this time, stepping forward so he’s no longer leaning on the wall.

“I guess not, but…” Atsushi says. He shrugs his shoulders, expecting Akutagawa to just walk off and leave, but he doesn’t. It almost seems like he wants to say something, but he’s not sure if he should.

“I’m…I’m sorry that you felt obligated to look after me,” Akutagawa mumbles.

Now that is definitely the last thing he expected Akutagawa to say. He doesn’t like his head or even attempt to make eye contact, but it sounds sincere, he thinks. It sounds like they’re his own words, not fed to him by someone else.

“Oh,” Atsushi blinks. “Um…well, I didn’t…I dunno. It wasn’t a big deal.”

His cheeks feel warm, for some reason. He’s embarrassed. He doesn’t really know what to say or think, he’s just really surprised to hear Akutagawa say anything about it at all. He wonders if he feels guilty.

“If you insist,” Akutagawa answers simply. Now it seems like he’s ready to walk off. “Well, Weretiger, I would really prefer if you would get out of my sight before my company arrives, I -”

“Wait,” Atsushi says, finally having managed to gather his scrambled thoughts together. Akutagawa glares at him again. “I just…I don’t mind helping you if you need it. I’m not a heartless monster.”

“No, you’re not,” Akutagawa agrees, as if it’s the most obvious thing he’s ever heard.

Atsushi’s a bit taken aback by that, too.

“You think?” he says, feeling his ears start to heat up, too. Why, even?

“Weretiger,” Akutagawa sighs. Atsushi has lost track over how many time he’s heard that sound, “on with it. Or leave.”

“I just - I’ve got your back, I guess. Maybe you don’t have mine, but…I won’t leave you stranded if you need help,” Atsushi says. He realizes how corny that sounds, he can hear Dazai’s hysterical laughter echoing in the back of his brain, but Akutagawa doesn’t seem to think so, at least not in the moment. He blinks at him.

His cheeks sort of look pink. Atsushi hopes he doesn’t still have a fever.

“I didn’t realize you were so cheesy, Weretiger,” Akutagawa says as he drops his gaze before he huffs out a breath. Atsushi really thought he was going to say something nice back, but he really is a jerk. Bastard.

Atsushi groans. “Well, too bad, cause I am! And you’re gonna have to deal with it!”

Akutagawa opens his mouth to respond, but his hand covers his mouth to cough a few times, and Atsushi is relieved they don’t sound as bad as they did - they’re certainly hoarse, though.

“Are you -”

Akutagawa nods. “I’m okay.”

“Akutagawa…?”

They both turn their heads at the same time to find a pair has approached them, seemingly without any warning. It’s Akutagawa’s assistant - Atsushi thinks her name is Higuchi, or something like that - and a girl with long, dark hair that he doesn’t recognize at first, but quickly remembers is Akutagawa’s sister. Gin. Akutagawa having a sister is still an incredibly foreign concept to him. They’re both wearing casual clothing, evidently not working.

They both look very confused to see Akutagawa talking to him. Atsushi sees them both reach for something, and realizes almost too late that they’re reaching for weapons.

“Wait, I -”

“He was told to meet me here. Miscommunication,” Akutagawa says simply. Interesting tactic, he makes it sounds like it’s something the two of them already know about. Higuchi nods, accepting the answer, but Gin only looks suspicious. “Finish your business elsewhere, Weretiger.”

“Right, uh…yep, I’ll do that,” Atsushi says. Does he say goodbye? See ya? No, that’s weird, especially in front of his coworker and his sister. They both view him as the enemy.

What is he talking about? He is the enemy. They are enemies. He shakes his head as he walks off, even more confused than he was before this interaction began.

“Is your fever back? Your face looks red,” his sister says, and Atsushi briefly turns his head to see her laying a hand against his cheek, to which he quickly turns away. “You don’t feel warm.”

“Maybe we should take you back to the clinic, just to be safe,” Higuchi starts.

“I’m fine. Let’s go,” Akutagawa says with a heavy sigh, and the three of them walk in the opposite direction, eventually, out of his sight.

Atsushi shakes his head. Why is he still standing there?

And why are his ears still hot?

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