#Anyone who disapproves can respectfully get bent

[pillowbeast]

I tell you what, you start having so much more fun working on your fursona when you shed the self inflicted notion of needing to have as many people's approval as possibe when making them honestly.

Like as a recovering people pleaser, I kinda didn't really have an identity for my fursona on their own, it was only a couple years ago that I even actually had the freedom to make something for myself? Even now I catch myself being like "Will people even like what I do with" them before reminding myself

A. The answer is more than likely yes anyway.

B. Even if it wasn't, its none of their business really?

Like idk, pursue whatever you want to see in your sona, whatever makes you happy, who cares what it is. Your sona could be weird, they could have so many of your personal interests or vibes stuffed into them, just fuckin go for it.

[haunted-by-catholic-guilt]

I’m bent with bitterness, I can’t foresee.

“Jon was ill, I found him last night, took care of him.”

Basira hummed and looked down at the cane that had fallen.

“Must’ve been quite poorly, if he was using that, should’ve come got me.”

Daisy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

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Jon is sick, and seeks out comfort. First sickfic, maybe a little OOC, but I kept thinking about the effects of Basira treating him like a monster could have on his subconscious.

TW CONTAINS VOMITING AND WHAT COULD BE CHILD ABUSE AND NEGLECT

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Something was wrong.

Daisy could feel it, whether it be from being in the police force for as long as she was, or the hunt, she just knew.

They have all been sleeping at the institute for some time now, and tonight she was drifting off on one of the cots in a spare room, that had used to be Martin’s.

There was someone in the hallway, and she needed to investigate.

She pushed herself off the cot, her legs were weak and stiff, side effects from sleeping on a cot for as long as she had been, and The Buried, respectfully.

She shuffled over to the door of the small room and cracked it just enough so she could see what was going on.

She did not expect what she saw.

Maybe an avatar coming to kill her, or Martin wandering the halls like a ghost, but not Jon.

He was staying there, like the rest of them, but either didn’t sleep, or stayed locked up in his office and slept at his desk.

But there he was, limping down the hallway, and he looked like shit.

His skin was ashen and pale, and his hair was matted down with what could have been water, but she wasn’t sure why it would have been, and he was using his cane, which is what finished painting the picture for her, that Jon was not ok.

She took a breath, and stepped out of the room, trying not to startle him.

“Jon?”

He looked at her, his eyes tired and glazed over, but it seemed like he was looking through her, not at her.

“Jon, are you alright?”

He didn’t reply, so she crept towards him slowly, careful not to scare him, he had been jumpy, but she supposed they all had.

When she got close enough to him, she could smell the sickness rolling off him.

Ah, that explains it.

“Jon? I’m going to touch you, alright? Let’s just get you laying down.”

She carefully wrapped her arm around his back, and began to guide him to the cot, but even though she had told him, it didn’t seem like he even registered her presence until she touched him, and he startled and would have fallen over if not for Daisy’s arm holding him up.

“Daisy?”

He was staring at her sleepily, at least knowing she was there this time.

“Hi”

At that, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell into her.

Fuck.

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She had scooped Jon up into her arms, the cane falling to the floor beside them, and she decided she didn’t care enough to grab it.

By the time she placed Jon on the cot, she was rather out of breath herself, so she sat on the cot next to Jon’s sleeping form.

She looked at him, and was honestly taken aback at how different he looked without what she thought was a permanent scowl painted on his face.

He looked almost peaceful.

She sighed, and brushed her hand against his face, moving some of the loose hairs out of the way.

It worried her that Jon Sims, the same man who always Knew you were coming, and would normally shy away from any touch, hardly stirred under her hand.

She was also worried by the heat that was coming off of his small, shaking frame.

She needed to find the first aid kit, and some water, she decided.

She looked around the small room, and cursed, realizing her crutches were not with her, but in the breakroom.

This could be a problem.

She pushed herself shakily off the small cot, and swore she heard Jon whimper at the loss of body heat.

She hummed, and shifted the small blanket on the bed to cover him, and started what she hoped would be a short journey to get the supplies she needed.

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Jon felt like he was going to freeze.

It was so cold.

The blanket someone had put over him was not helping much, but he curled into it anyway.

He was so cold, and so alone.

He wanted Martin.

He wanted anyone.

The body that had been next to him was gone, and he was alone again.

He always was when he was sick.

He remembered being a child, he was stuck in bed with a fever and stomach bug for a week, and his grandma refused to be in the room with him for more than a few moments at a time, and he remembered her disapproving look whenever she had to clean the bin he had been ill in, or the floor next to his bed.

He didn’t get sick often after that, or at least he didn’t tell anyone.

He had gotten ill during his first few months as a researcher at the institute, and had to stay home for three days, and when he got back, he wasn’t sure if anyone besides Tim had realized he was gone.

He missed Tim.

He wasn’t sure when started crying.

He was so cold and alone.

He felt like utter shit.

His stomach rolled and he curled into himself more, trying to make himself as small as he could.

He closed his eyes and hoped it would be over soon.

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Daisy was playing a balancing act with a glass of water and the first aid kit while trying her best not to fall over despite the shaking of her legs.

She carefully opened the door to the room where she left Jon, and she’d never admit it, but her heart broke as she looked down at the shivering form on the cot, curled into himself, and sobbing quietly.

She sat the glass of water on the ground close to the cot, and carefully sat next to Jon again.

“Jon, I need you to open your mouth so I can take your temperature, alright?”

He whined, but let her slip the thermometer into his mouth and curled around her, just a little, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Daisy noticed, and ran her hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

When the thermometer has gotten a read, she looked at it and felt her heart drop at the reading.

39.4

Shit.

She grabbed the fever reducers that were thankfully in the first aid kit.

“Jon, I need you to sit up and take these for me”

He whined and curled tighter into her.

“Jon, please.”

He sighed but let her move him into a sitting position and took the pills and water he offered her.

His hand was shaking as he tried to grab the glass, and Daisy grabbed the glass back from him when he was going to drop it, and held it to his lips where he took just enough to swallow the pills, and begrudgingly took a few more sips when she did not remove the glass.

To her surprise, when she let him lie back down, he wouldn’t, instead slumping forward into her as soon as she put the glass down, and she let out a small oof noise as he collided with her chest.

It scared her more then she’d like to admit when he weakly grabbed her and started to cry and shake.

“Alright, you’re ok.”

She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back as sobs shook his small, far to warm body.

He was sobbing something that sounded like an apology, and it broke her heart all over again.

“It’s ok, sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong, why are you apologizing?”

He took a break from the apology, still shaking and crying, but moving his head slightly so she could hear him more clearly, not that he needed too, The Hunt had made her hearing more sensitive than ever, but she still had to strain her ears to hear him speak.

“Because I’m sick”

He then buried his face back into her neck and kept sobbing.

“Oh Jon, it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize for being sick, that’s the least of things you need to apologize to anyone for.”

She bit her lip, contemplating what to do next.

“Let’s get you lying down again, okay?”

He nodded slightly, but didn’t seem to want to move.

“Jon?”

He whimpered.

“Please stay”

Daisy hardly believed anything that she was hearing tonight, Jon almost always wanted to be left alone, yet here he was.

“Of course I’ll stay, but I need you to lay down so I can grab something, alright?”

He nodded, and loosened the grip he had on her, allowing himself to be laid down, and immediately curling into himself again, letting out a whine, moving his hands to his stomach.

She sighed, and got off the cot, moving to the corner of the room to grab a bin that was thankfully left in there, and set it next to the cot, within arms reach if he needed it.

She sighed, not sure what to do next, she had never been the caring type, especially not towards Jon.

Jon seemed to still be awake enough to know she was there and reached out an arm weakly to grab at her, and pull her towards the cot.

She sat next to him, careful not to jostle him too much, but when he tried to curl around her more, and was shivering, she decided on her next move.

She shifted slowly, and picked him up and moved so she was sitting in a position on the cot where it would be easier for her to, well, cuddle Jon, since it seemed like he wanted to be held if the past half an hour was anything to go off of.

He seemed to like this, and curled up happily on her lap, like a cat.

She closed her eyes, and let herself fall asleep until she was needed again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Jon wasn’t sure where he was when he woke up, he wasn’t sure of much but one thing.

He was going to be sick.

He looked around the room and saw the bin that had been placed next to the cot, and he practically flung himself off of whoever has been holding him.

Normally, he would have been embarrassed by all of this, but he felt to poorly to feel much shame at the current moment.

He barely made it to the bin on time before he started to heave into it, and it was only a second later he felt a presence next to him, rubbing is back and saying what he assumed was comforting words.

He couldn’t breathe, he felt sick rising in his throat and he felt hot tears running down his face.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed, or how many times he was sick before he finally fell onto the form next to him, feeling exhausted and in pain, he hardly had enough energy to open his eyes, let alone apologize to whoever was holding him.

He let his eyes slip closed, his stomach still cramping, but the exhaustion overruling anything else.

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Daisy wasn’t sure what had happened.

She felt Jon scrambled off the cot, and the next thing she heard was him gagging into the bin next to the cot.

She was next to him in seconds, quickly pulling his hair back with a hair tie she thought to grab before, and then holding him up with one arm, and the other rubbing circles on his back while mumbling what she hoped was comforting words quietly.

It was half an hour before he finally slumped bonelessly against her, clearly exhausted from it all.

Once she was sure he was asleep, she lifted him and placed him back onto the cot, where he curled around his stomach, which was now clearly hurting him.

She stood for a second, before checking the time, and she was almost relieved to see it was almost five in the morning, Basira would be waking soon, and maybe she could help her, or at least grab her crutches, because at this point, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand, her legs shaking from exhaustion, and she was rather tired because of the night’s ordeal.

She knew she should clean out the bin he was sick in case he needed it again, so she grabbed it and quickly left the room to do so, and when she got back to the room, Basira was standing outside of the door, looking upset as she had always recently.

“Basira, hi”

Basira turned to face her, and gave a tired smile upon seeing her.

“Daisy, what’s going on?”

Daisy sighed, she was sure Basira would be mad for her treating Jon like a human.

“Jon was ill, I found him last night, took care of him.”

Basira hummed and looked down at the cane that had fallen.

“Must’ve been quite poorly, if he was using that, should’ve come got me.”

Daisy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Basira, I know you mean well and all that, but you haven’t exactly been kind to him, recently, and he was really bad, I think that having more than one person would’ve overwhelmed him and-“

“Daisy, it’s ok”

Daisy sighed, and then paused. Basira spoke up.

“How is he doing?”

Daisy opened the door to Jon, still curled up on the cot, audibly shivering, and calling out for people.

Calling for Martin.

For Tim.

For Sasha.

Daisy walked over to the cot, setting the bin back down, and smoothing out his hair.

“What’s his temperature”

Basira asked, leaning against a door frame.

“39.4”

“Jesus”

Basira walked further into the room, and went to grab the first aid kit, and grabbed the thermometer.

Daisy grabbed Jon’s shoulder and lightly shook him awake, which he did not seem pleased with.

“Hey Jon, can we take your temperature again?”

Jon looked up at the ‘we’ to see Basira standing there, and promptly began to panic and bury his face in the blanket and pillow.

“Jon, hey what’s wrong, it’s just us”

That didn’t seem to help much, but he did remove the blanket enough so they could hear him say something.

“Basira, I’m sorry I didn’t- I didn’t mean to- msorry”

Jon was mumbling something, and Daisy took the thermometer from Basiras hand, and moved her head to motion for her to leave, which she, thankfully, understood, after the door clicked shut, she tried again.

“Jon, hey it’s ok it’s just me, no one else, can you open your mouth for me?”

This time, Jon let Daisy slip the thermometer under his tongue, and to her relief, his temperature had dropped to 38.6, not a normal temperature, but not as bad as it was.

“Ok, thank you, Jon, I’ll be back in a second”

Jon whimpered, but she got up and walked out the door, not bothering to close it.

“His temperature went down, I’m sorry, I didn’t know he would react like that when you came in”

Basira seemed to think for a second, before sighing.

“It’s ok, probably my fault. I’m going to go grab a cold cloth, see if we can break his fever.”

Daisy nodded, and walked back into the room, where Jon was trying to get out of the cot.

“Hey, hey Jon what are you doing, you need to lay back down.”

She rushed over to him and tried to maneuver him back down, but he fought weakly against her grip.

“N-no, gotta- gotta apologize, to Basira”

Daisy had gotten him to lay down, he was clearly exhausted from even trying to stand.

“Shh, she isn’t mad, you don’t need to apologize for anything”

By the time Basira was back, Jon was mostly asleep again, stirring slightly when the cloth was placed on his brow.

Basira went to go do some work, and Daisy kept watch over Jon.

When Jon’s fever broke, Daisy hugged him and told him they would need to have a talk about some stuff soon, and Jon would apologize profusely for the trouble he caused, but would drink the affection he was being shown.

But for now, he slept, and she kept guard.

[imagine-loki]

Lilacs on a windowsill -Trigger Warning death

TITLE: Lilacs on a windowsill CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-shot AUTHOR: written-loki-imagines ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine you being an Asgardian healer chosen to see to the younger princes wife throughout her pregnancy. After a mishap in the birthing of the first royal grandchildren you’re very quick to blame yourself of the losses of that day. Loki, the mourning prince takes the time to speak to you after you stumble into an area you don’t belong in.  RATING: T+ NOTES/WARNINGS:Trigger warning - infant death/death in childbirth

Loki stared at the same lilac curtains wistfully stuck in the recesses of his own mind. He had sat in that same rocking chair in the same lonely corner for months unfeeling since his dearly loved wife and infant died. That’s how you always saw him or thought of him.

It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault yet you still felt like you indirectly caused it. You were a healer that was chosen to tend to the young mother through out her pregnancy. She chose you out of all the older more experienced choices just because she was kind and aiding in the birthing the first royal grandchild was quite the accomplishment for you. The two princes were away on a trip when she went into labor leaving her scared and alone without her husband.

She expressed that she didn’t want to go through the birth of her first child without him being there and you promised she would be fine. She wanted to hold your hand but it just wasn’t possible since you were her healer and primary physician.

Everything happened so quickly you didn’t have time to react before there was a new crisis. The baby was a stillbirth and she kept losing blood after it was delivered.

There was nothing you could do.

In twenty four hours she lost her battle and traveled on to Valhalla to celebrate her life that was the tale you told yourself to remain hopeful and not in pieces.

You knew her personally in a way, she gave you kind glances in the halls and polite waves. Walks in the garden together was a Saturday tradition. She was nobility from another realm and being here was out of her element but she came to you with questions about traditions since she thought of you as sort of friend.Throughout her pregnancy she asked you a number of questions expressing her worry and asking you to reassure her with your knowledge

Everything was supposed to be okay.

Not even her husband the prince could console her nerves like you could whether late at night or early in the morning.

You told her it would be okay and everyone gets jitters especially since it was her first child. Like you knew or had felt what she was going through. It just felt like the correct thing to say.

You didn’t mean to lie to her.

All of Asgard mourned the loss of the beloved princess in their own way. The warriors put up their weapons to commemorate her losing her battle. The people released small boats and lanterns just as they did when the queen mother died. Even the guards stood weaponless at their posts for a day of peace and purity.

And you?

You cried. Alone in the safety of your servant quarters away from public eyes.

You were the last person who should shed a tear for her but it was your fault and you were ashamed. You weren’t experienced enough or quick enough to see what was happening. You didn’t try hard enough or disapprove of her choosing you to take care of her. The guilt was crippling and you didn’t know how to grieve a person you felt like you killed. You had hoped when the princes came back Loki would be furious at you or blame you as much as you blamed yourself but when his brother broke the news to him he simply hardened.

He hadn’t spoken since the day he arrived to the news four months ago nor has he eaten or drank anything either. The Gods of the Aesir didn’t need food or drink to stay alive but it was by now integrated into your society and concerning of him to quit doing. Castle gossip says he’s also refused to eat any golden apples that are used by the Gods for longevity.

Nonetheless everyday he comes to the room she was in when… everyday he comes to one of the treatment rooms and sits. Always by the corner near the window and always bringing fresh flowers no matter if the ones from the previous day were still fresh.

He would leave the discarded flowers on the windowsill and pour the old water out before replenishing it. No one went into the room while the prince was inside of it and no one but you entered when he left.

You kept it clean and the linens fresh you also took the discarded flowers and pressed them into the pages of one of your notebooks to keep and document. Everyday you did this then sat and read quietly to yourself from a spot on the floor. You were going to study until you knew everything there was to know about the topics so that no one would ever die by your hands again.

Today was like any other, you waited until the prince would surely have left to hustle inside the room old textbooks in hand and your notebook made for pressing flowers as well.

Only this time you were startled by his still well known presence inside of the room. He was standing facing the window looking out of it calmly. Upon seeing him you fumbled and let the items in your arms slip and clatter on the ground making a horrendous sound. 

“I’m so sorry your highness I didn’t know you were still here.” You said quickly scrambling to pick up the books as quickly as possible.

He turned slowly to look down at you and his stern features made you shiver as did his rigid stance. “What is your name little one?” He said hardly blinking or offering any assistance.

You thought he was going to report you to your supervisor for being an idiot so without a second thought you started to beg him not to.

“I’m so sorry i didn’t mean to your highness please don’t-

"Name, what is your name,” He repeated watching you stand up and juggle the heavy books.

“(Name), ” you whispered watching him walk towards you with his arms folded behind his back.

“You were the healer of my wife correct?”

“Yes, your highness,” you flinched at every step he took fully expecting him to yell at you for ruining his life.

“Was it a girl or a boy?”

“Excuse me?”

“They never told me the gender of her child.” He said in a cold voice, his use of the word her child instead of our child made you wonder what exactly he meant by it.

“It was a girl sir.”

His thin lips pulled into a bone chilling bitter smile,“hm… tragic.” It had to be the most horrible thing to say you had ever heard. You were taken aback and didn’t know want to say at first but then anger and sadness surged through your blood.

“How can you say that? Your wife is dead, your only daughter is dead. You truly are the monster people say you are."You had officially forgotten your place and screamed at the prince. He looked confused and froze for a moment or two so there he stood looking at you blankly with moss colored eyes.

"You don’t know do you?”

“Know what?” you hissed back wanting to throw a book at him.

“My wife wasn’t my own, her heart belonged to another as did her first born. It was a forced marriage, she was going to leave Asgard to go off with her lover and live as a family with the true husband of her heart. That was not I.” His callous words stung as if you were the one it hurt.

You didn’t know how to explain it but you felt worse somehow. As if her trip to Vallhalla might not have been because of her own life choices. Still you felt guilt and misery for her and you had been feeling this for so long. This dreaded hurt that you had been running from somehow finally caught up to you.

Tears were assaulting your eyes but you tried your hardest to not let them fall. Your vision blurred and you and the numerous books you carried collapsed to the ground in a heap.

You shook your head and tried to make sense of what he was telling you about that kind woman you had known.

“Then why did you leave flowers and stop eating? Why were you so silent… why?”

“She was my good friend and I mourned her respectfully, I must say I never neglected my diet to a risky attempt. No one spoke to me, they all expected me to wallow in sadness but our relationship never ran deep enough for me to live in misery. I never realized this news would hurt you so. I knew you had spoken to her but i never realized you were both this close.”

You weren’t.

It was a strictly professional relationship and yet you still mistreated yourself after her death.

You sat there crying at his feet silently until he bent down to place a hand on your forehead. A strange feeling fell over you but once he retracted his hand his voice was softer and much more caring, “ Oh darling, have you been carrying around all that guilt for this long?” His hand moved to cup your cheek and his thumb wiped away some tears. You nodded and sniffled like a child in his hand until he wrapped his long arms around you as to comfort you.

“I assure you it wasn’t your fault. That was left up to the fates please don’t think any less of yourself as a healer or a person. Don’t cry.”

His warmth spread very you and it was almost as your brain answered letting your tears dry and your breath come back to you.

“Your highness, you are needed in the great hall.” A servant called from behind you causing your head to snap up to look at Loki’s face. It was stern again but when he waved her away and looked back down at you his gentleness returned.

“Such caring creatures feel the worst pain.” His words were simple but nothing else needed to be said as he stood back up to take his leave.

“Keep studying (Name), and just to ease your mind she hated flowers, they were for you to preserve.”

And with that he left, leaving you with lilacs on the windowsill and a heap of books scattered around the cold tile floor.

As all things do maybe it was time your guilt subsided.

Maybe it was the time to be happy again.