#I get super pale and weak and it's like. I feel so sick lol. I have to limit what I can do bc it feels like moderate blood loss fr | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

splendidly-secret-sick-fics · 4 years ago

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Hi!!! Love your writing style you're so cool! I was wondering if you'd be able to write a sickfic focusing on atsumu and osamu-specifically atsumu taking care of his little brother! And maaaybe if you wanted to add some angst before it got better 👀 anyways hope you have a wonderful dayyyyy 😊

Anonymous said:

Can I get an unexpected sick atsumu that is at home from school with his brother after sleeping in. Their mother had the day off and didn’t feel like going anywhere so she allowed them to stay home. Maybe in the middle of the afternoon Atsumu starts to feel strangely sick but he hoped it would pass if he took a nap. He slept on the top bunk while Osamu plays video games on the bottom when he sudden wakes up without warning and starts to projectile spew. Caretaker Mom (cause I need some sweet momma content) and Osamu being supportive and understanding.

The Biggest Idiot of All Idiots: a Miya twins sick fic

Characters: sick Atsumu, caretakers Osamu & Mama Miya (lol)

Word Count: 3,426 (!!!)

Warnings: swearing, heat exhaustion passing out, and Miya-family shenanigans

Part 2

————————————————————

Thank you for the requests and kind words!! I combined it with one from @super-secret-sick-fics

I changed a couple details, but tried to stay mostly true to what was asked for! I hope that’s okay :)

This is gonna be a two-parter bc it got to be way too long. I’m not sure when Part 2 will be up yet.

I didn’t edit this at all (I never do, honestly) and I know I’ll hate myself for that later. But alas, I have zero patience so here it is!

Enjoy :)

————————————————————

Atsumu was rudely awakened by something annoying and probably stupid pushing up on his back.

“Tsumu, get outta bed ya lazy asshole.”

Ah yes, the annoying and definitely stupid thing was his equally annoying and stupid brother shoving the bottom of his mattress up from the bottom bunk.

“Why?” he grumbled and flipped over onto his stomach. He buried his head into his pillow and sighed. There was a subtle ache nagging at him on the left side of his head and he wanted it to go away.

“Cause Ma took the day off to do yard work and chores with us. It’s ‘sposed to be hot today so we said we’d do the yard work first thing. Remember? Or are you really that stupid?”

Osamu’s face popped up over the railing of Atsumu’s bed. His brother’s normal deadpan stare was accented by a single eyebrow raise of expectation.

Atsumu narrowed his eyes at him for a brief moment before groaning. He sat up and the pain in his head spread to encompass the rest of his head. Immediately, he was cranky.

“Fine. Just get outta my face,” Atsumu all but spit. Osamu’s face scrunched up, but he jumped down to the floor.

“What’s crawled up yer ass so early?” He mumbled, pulling on some athletic shorts. Atsumu wanted to respond with something snarky, but the pain in his head muddled his thoughts and he couldn’t think of anything clever enough.

“Screw you,” he settled on and crawled to the ladder to get out of bed. The headache would most likely go away after he ate something, so there was no need to say anything about it and risk getting teased.

Osamu eyed him, a frown on his face for a second. Then he scoffed.

“Alright assface. I’ll be downstairs. Ma made breakfast.” With that, he left the room.

Atsumu took his time getting dressed and ready for the day. He was moving slower thanks to the ache in his skull. The dumb headache also made his body feel tired and achy so he didn’t really feel the need to push things and make it worse.

“Good mornin’, Sweetheart!” His mother greeted when he finally made it to the kitchen. She was at the stove, flipping some pancakes, her salt and pepper hair pulled back in a loose braid. She was already in work clothes. Atsumu had to admit that it was going to be nice to spend some time with his mom. Their father ran a small convenience store, so she had to work full time to help supplement that income. He was excited to spend time with either of his parents when he could, even if it was doing chores.

The twins had, of course, offered to get part time jobs. However, both of their parents shut down the idea quickly, telling them to focus on volleyball and “enjoying their youth.”

“Mornin’” he yawned and sat down across from Osamu at the table. He was already half way done eating and scrolled mindlessly through his phone. Atsumu tried to do the same, but the tiny words and the blue light from his phone only exacerbated his headache, so he sighed and gave up. Instead, he put his head down on his arms and waited for his mom to tell him to come get his food. After a minute, Osamu kicked his shin under the table.

“Oi, what’re ya doin’?” he asked roughly. Atsumu rolled his eyes and exhaled, annoyed.

“‘M tired. That alright with ya?” He glared at his brother. Osamu kept steady eye contact, rising to Atsumu’s challenge. The lights burned though, and Atsumu had to blink. He clicked his tongue and turned his head away.

“Yer bein’ weirder than normal,” Osamu said with his mouth full of pancake. Atsumu’s lip curled in disgust.

“Yer disgustin’.”

“Says the pig.”

“Listen—“

“Tsumu! Come get yer breakfast!” Miya-san interrupted. Osamu smirked at him, smug about getting the last word.

Atsumu sat down at the table with a single pancake, half a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a glass of orange juice. His mother gave him an earful about not eating enough and he was sure that Samu would do the same.

Osamu eyed his plate and then eyed Atsumu and then his breakfast again. His twin pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything, shoving more food in his mouth.

While Atsumu was grateful that his brother didn’t comment on his smaller-than-usual meal, he was incredibly suspicious of the lack of insults.

The truth was, Atsumu’s stomach felt...wrong. He wasn’t sure what it was because he didn’t feel sick persay, but he didn’t feel good either. Starting off with a smaller meal and going back for seconds was more appealing to him than having a plate full of food that his brother and mom would force him to eat.

Atsumu ate his meal in silence and hoped that it would help his headache and the strange feeling in his stomach before he had to spend all afternoon doing yard work in the blazing summer heat.

***

Osamu watched his brother weeding the flower bed with a careful eye. Something was wrong. He knew it from the moment Atsumu woke up. His stupid brother wouldn’t tell him anything (if he even registered it himself, the idiot) so the only thing he could do was keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t start crying or dying.

They’d been outside for about an hour and a half now, weeding, mowing the lawn, planting new flowers, and whatever else their mom wanted and it was only getting hotter. The sun wasn’t even directly above them yet, but the heat surrounded them like a thick blanket. It felt like Osamu was moving through a pool of jell-o while he pushed the lawn mower forward.

Osamu was sweating and panting ever so slightly, but Atsumu looked like he just returned from a grueling volleyball game. He was dripping sweat and his shoulders moved visibly up and down with each breath he took. Osamu figured that his brother was probably dehydrated and too stupid to admit it or too stupid to realize it.

“Tsumu,” Osamu called. Atsumu pulled his head up from the weeds and squinted at his brother across the lawn. He was pale, and all of Osamu’s twinstincts told him Atsumu needed to go inside quickly.

“Wanna go get lunch?” He tried, because Atsumu was dumb and wouldn’t admit that something was wrong, so Osamu needed to find some excuse for them to go inside. There, his mother would realize that something was up and force his brother to rest and hydrate.

“We just ate not that long ago. You that hungry, ya pig?” Came the snappy comeback. It had less bite to it than usual. The lack of venom from this and the weak comebacks from this morning only solidified for Osamu that his brother was not alright. That, coupled with the sheer amount of sweat and his continued heavy breaths made it seem like the idiot was dying or something.

“Screw you,” Osamu sneered (because even if something was wrong with his stupid brother he was still an unbearable asshole). “It’s hot and I’m working up more of a sweat. So yeah, ‘m hungry.” Atsumu waved him off lethargically.

“Then you go in. I’m almost done here,” Atsumu all but wheezed and turned back to the flower bed. Osamu took a deep breath and tried to remember that he was attempting to be a good brother and good brothers don’t punch their dying brothers in the face.

“Just come in and get some water then,” Osamu offered, walking to stand behind his brother. Atsumu looked over his shoulder, his ugly face contorted into confusion.

“Why’re you being so nice?”

Osamu squeezed his fist by his side.

“If you get dehydrated, I’ll have to play setter tomorrow at mornin’ practice and I don’t wanna.”

Hopefully the threat of being replaced, even if temporarily, would get Atsumu to see some sense. The longer Osamu studied him the more (begrudging) concern he felt. Now that he was closer, he noticed a glaze over Atsumu’s eyes and a flush to his cheeks.

Osamu surmised from this that his stupid idiot brother caught a summer cold like a stupid idiot.

Atsumu hesitated, but eventually, nodded. He put his hands on his knees to push himself up. Osamu let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. One battle down. Next he’d have to convince him to rest up some.

His relief was short-lived. As soon as Atsumu stood up, his knees buckled underneath him and he fell back onto Osamu heavily. Startled, Osamu just barely managed to keep his balance and catch him, holding Atsumu under his arms.

“What the fu--” he started, ready to lay into Atsumu, only to be stopped by the vacant look in his brother’s eyes. It was different from the haze he noticed just a second ago. It was like Atsumu wasn’t seeing anything. His eyes stared off blankly at nothing, half-lidded and foggy. He was still panting, but it was shallower, if possible.

The next thing Osamu noticed was how cool Atsumu’s skin felt, despite the intense heat and the flush of his cheeks. Atsumu, the dumbass, was indeed not okay.

“Tsumu? Hey, can you hear me?” Osamu asked. Atsumu’s eyes slowly found Osamu’s, but it still didn’t look like he registered anything. The only response he got was a whine.

“Shit. Yer so freakin’ stupid, you dumbass,” Osamu muttered. Atsumu groaned. There was no way he could get Atsumu into the house without help. Thankfully, the flower bed was near the front door, so he wouldn’t have to take him far, but the door was shut in an attempt to keep the hot air outside, so he needed help.

“Ma!” Osamu yelled, “Ma! C’mere, quick! Tsumu’s sick!” Atsumu winced at his brother’s volume.

“Sorry, ‘Tsumu, I’m sorry. Fuck. I can’t believe you--” Osamu said frantically, despite himself. He really didn’t like his brother, but he still loved him and this was still very scary.

Their mom was at the door a second later, concern already painted on her face. Upon noticing her one son all but unconsciousness, leaning on her other son, the concern grew to panic and she was outside and beside them in no time flat.

“What in the hell happened?” she asked, brushing Atsumu’s hair back. Her eyes widened when she no doubt picked up on the abnormal cool temperature of his brother’s skin.

“He’s been actin’ weird all mornin’. Then he came out here in this heat and I just convinced him to go inside for some water when he passed out. He’s so freakin’ stupid.” Osamu explained.

“Of course, the stubborn idiot. Let’s get him inside and cool him off,” his mother said, still holding Tsumu’s face.

“Yeah. I can do it, I just need yer help with the door and getting him on my back,” Osamu replied. The longer they were in this heat the more dangerous it became so they needed to move as quickly as they could without making things worse.

Together, they managed to get Atsumu on Osamu’s back.

“Hold on, idiot,” Osamu commanded. Atsumu buried his face into his brother’s shoulders. He weakly grabbed onto his wrist to keep his arms wrapped around Osamu’s shoulder. Relief trickled in to meet Osamu’s panic when he realized that meant that Atsumu may be coming to just a little. Yeah

As soon as they were inside, their mom went to the kitchen to get some water and wet rags while Osamu took his imbecile brother to the couch. He laid him down, putting his feet up on the arm rest (all the boys on the volleyball team knew how to deal with heat exhaustion) and brought the fan closer. He sat on the floor beside Atsumu’s feet and waited for him to come back.

Miya-san came back a second later with a sports drink and several wash cloths. She placed one on Atsumu’s forehead and he sighed (Osamu was once again relieved that his brother seemed to be registering at least a little of his surroundings). The others she used to pat down his arms and legs.

The next few minutes were tense and silent as they waited for the idiot of the bunch to cool down and return to the land of the fully conscious.

“Sa-Samu?” Atsumu breathed. Osamu’s head whipped towards his brother. Atsumu was squeezing his eyes shut, a deep frown settled on his face.

“Tsumu, thank god,” Osamu exhaled heavily.

“Atsumu, baby, can you hear me? How’re ya feelin’?” Their mother asked gently, sweeping his hair back and sitting on the floor beside his head.

Atsumu’s eyes trailed lazily to meet their mother’s and he took a second longer than Osamu would have liked to respond.

“Head...head hurts,” he whined and closed his eyes again, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Mhm, that’s to be expected when yer a dummy that got heat exhaustion. When yer ready, I need ya to sit up and drink something, okay?” She said, cupping his cheek. Her words, though seemingly harsh, were always soft. They never failed to comfort the twins whenever they were upset about something.

Atsumu visibly leaned into her touch.

“H-hot,” he murmured.

“No, shit, idiot,” Osamu responded. His mother shot him a glare. He rolled his eyes at her hypocrisy.

Another few minutes later, and they eased Atsumu into a sitting position and handed him the green sports drink (which Osamu found gross, but was his brother’s favorite). He took small sips and deep breaths.

“I’m goin’ to go get ya a little something to munch on, alright baby? Call me if ya need something,” Miya-san said. She kissed the top of his head and left the room.

Osamu watched his brother with a careful eye. He took in the flush of his cheeks, the paleness of the rest of his face, his shaking hand that rested subtly on his stomach. Sure, he just passed out and these things should be no surprise, but something deep in Osamu’s bones told him that Atsumu was hiding something; that something more was wrong.

“‘M gonna go help, Ma. Don’t do anything stupid.” Osamu stood and Atsumu nodded. The lack of a return insult, the lack of any verbal response at all from his obnoxious twin set all of Osamu’s nerves on edge.

“Ma,” he said as he entered the kitchen, “I think Tsumu is really sick.” He leaned against the counter where she was getting some crackers to put on a plate.

“He just passed out from heat exhaustion, Samu of course he’s sick.” She smiled at him softly.

“No, no. I mean… he’s been weird all mornin’ and I think somethins’ wrong,” Osamu pushed. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but his whole body told him that Atsumu was being a bigger idiot than either of them realized.

Miya-san glanced over at her son. Osamu tried to convey on his face how strongly he felt about this, how she needed to believe him. She studied him for a second before nodding and turning back to the plate.

“Okay. We’ll keep an eye on him, alright?” Osamu’s shoulders relaxed minutely.

In the living room, Atsumu was lying down again, his head pillowed against the arm rest and his legs curled into his stomach. He was still frowning.

“Tsumu, you should eat something,” Osamu tried. The frown on Atsumu’s face morphed into a grimace.

“Don’t wanna…” he replied, petulantly.

“Just a few crackers, please?” Miya-san asked, sitting by Atsumu’s feet. He looked between the two of them and sighed.

“Fine,” he relented. Too easily, for Osamu’s liking. On Osamu’s list of Things To Hate About Atsumu, stubbornness was easily in the top three.

Atsumu nibbled on a few crackers until their mother seemed satisfied and left the room. As soon as she did, Atsumu collapsed heavily back onto the couch.

Osamu paused for a second before he gave in to his baser instincts as a brother and twin and sat beside Atsumu on the couch. Almost immediately, Atsumu repositioned himself to lean on Osamu’s shoulder.

Osamu felt the tension ease out of his shoulders when his brother exhaled slowly and shakily, closing his eyes.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s really goin’ on? Or are you gonna continue to be stupid?” Osamu asked after a moment.

His ill twin tenses again and Osamu almost feels bad. Key word: almost.

(If Atsumu was going to continue being an asshole, he would not feel bad if this came and bit him in the ass.)

“...I don’t know. Just been feelin’ odd all day,” Atsumu relented and Osamu’s eyes disappeared behind his hairline.

“Must be feelin’ pretty bad if yer admittin’ it so easily,” Osamu teased. The guilt pooling in his stomach was not something he’d share with his brother easily. His pride wouldn’t let him.

That didn’t take away from the fact that it was there though. Of course it was. Osamu could tell something was off the second he looked at Atsumu’s face this morning, yet he let him go on and work in the scorching sun all morning.

“Mmm,” Atsumu hummed, easing further into his brother’s side.

“Can ya tell me what’s wrong?” Osamu rested his head on Atsumu’s.

“Head hurts. Stomach’s been feelin’ weird,” Atsumu yawned. Osamu nodded.

“Wanna go take a shower and lay in bed?”

“Can’t move even if I wanted to.”

“I’ll help ya, stupid,” Osamu scoffed.

“Why’re you bein’ so nice?” Atsumu asked again. Osamu wouldn’t acknowledge the twinge in his chest that came when Atsumu didn’t believe that Osamu could be nice to him when he needed to be.

“No one else is gonna be,” he said instead.

“Ma’s here,” came the rebuttal.

“Let’s just go upstairs. You should get some rest so I don’t have to sub for ya at practice tomorrow.”

“Hate to admit it, Samu, but I don’t think I’ll make practice tomorrow,” Atsumu grumbled.

And well. Fuck. If Atsumu was already thinking that way, if he wasn’t fighting him about practice, wasn’t convinced he’d go tomorrow, then he must be really sick. The rock in Osamu’s stomach got a little heavier.

“Let’s go,” Osamu said. Atsumu nodded.

“Ma! I’m taking Tsumu upstairs to shower and get in bed!” Osamu called to their mom.

With that, Osamu eased his brother to stand, trying to ignore the way his face paled when he was upright, and slowly they made their way upstairs.

Osamu made Atsumu take a cold shower before he allowed him to settle into bed.

(Atsumu protested and whined the whole time. Osamu kept to himself that the argument that ensued made him feel a little better about Atsumu’s overall condition.)

Atsumu fell asleep almost instantly, curled into a ball around his pillow. Osamu gave him a sweatshirt and some athletic shorts to wear because he kept complaining about being cold. Convincing him that it was just because of the shower and that he’d warm up proved completely fruitless, so in the end Osamu relented.

Looking at his brother now, Osamu could tell that the worst was yet to come. Again, it was just a gut feeling. It set him on edge and kept his shoulders tight by his ears.

When Miya-san came to check on them, Osamu apologized, and though it meant showing his concern for his idiotic brother, asked her if he could skip their chores for the rest of the day and hang out in their room to keep an eye on Atsumu.

(Their mother was the one person they couldn’t lie to; she’d see past their proud facades and break them down with her eyes until they relented and told her what was really happening. Eventually, they stopped trying to lie to her.)

She agreed easily and told him she would run out to the store to prepare for the worst case scenario (see: Atsumu being a whiny little pissant). Osamu shouldn’t have been surprised that she believed him about his weird gut feeling. Thinking back on it, the two twins always knew when something was wrong with the other.

Miya-san left and Osamu took one last look at his brother sleeping on the top bunk before settling on the floor in front of his own bed. He grabbed an X-Box remote and turned on some game he’s played a thousand times, the volume low, and waited for the other shoe to drop.

#haikyuu sickfic #sick atsumu #caretaker Osamu #miya atsumu #miya osamu #tw fainting #heat exhaustion #mamma miya

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 4 years ago

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Can we see what happens when Zedaph is finally found after being left in Evil X’s lair?

okay so this is the newest ask in my inbox but i’m sorry, i couldn’t resist doing it now lol i’m on a Zedaph angst hype train asdfghjkl

Requests are still open! Please read pinned post before requesting.

This one is a sequel! Read the first part here.

...

Zedaph’s stomach is churning painfully, aching for food. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here but he does know it’s been at least a whole day. His mouth and throat are dry and scratchy; there’s nothing for him to drink in here either. And after having spent most of his energy crying his eyes out in the first hours of his confinement, he’s becoming dangerously dehydrated.

His hands are pale and bruised, and his knuckles are even bleeding in a few places, from his various attempts to break down the door. But without a pickaxe, he can’t even make a crack in it. He left most of his stuff behind when he came on patrol with EX, so he has nothing useful.

His heart aches when he thinks of EX. He trusted them so much. There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for them, but clearly, they never felt the same. They just used him and tossed him aside when they had to, leaving him to rot in a place where his friends will never find him. Or, at least, it will take a very long time.

Wincing, he wraps his mask around his actively bleeding knuckles. He feels sick at the sight of the reminder of how naive he’d been, but he has to admit, using it as a makeshift bandage is helping ease the pain a little.

He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes. Maybe it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. Time is passing weirdly here. And he certainly loves food enough that going only a day without it would cause his stomach to hurt this much.

How much longer will he survive…?

In the distance, he hears a voice. But does he actually hear it, though? Or is it just a hallucination? It must be fake, because it’s someone calling his name and there’s no way anyone has found him here after only a day.

But then he hears footsteps too.

“Zedaph! Are you down here?! Please, answer me!”

Zedaph blinks weakly. “Tango…?”

The footsteps stop.

“Zed! Is that you? Say something else!”

Zedaph jerks to his feet and almost immediately falls over again, weak from lack of nutrition. Thankfully, the noise he makes when he hits the door is enough to alert his best friend to his whereabouts, and Tango’s worried face quickly appears in the barred window in the door. “Oh my God! Zed! You really are down here! Are you okay?!”

Zedaph’s sudden movement has drained all his energy. It’s all he can do to force himself to stay awake and not pass out.

“Zed!” Tango calls again, desperation audible in his voice. “Gah, there’s no lever or button or anything…!”

No lever? EX must have taken it with them, Zedaph realises.

“Zed, get away from the door! I’m gonna break it down!”

Zedaph weakly pushes himself to the side, safely out of the way.

Outside, Tango takes a deep breath and throws his entire weight against the door. It creaks, but doesn’t break or even crack.

“Damnit, I need a pick,” he mutters, taking out his communicator.

One quick message and five excruciating minutes later, Tango hears footsteps on the stairs. He automatically tenses up but relaxes quickly when he sees Impulse burst into the room, pickaxe in hand.

“He’s in there,” Tango says worriedly, pointing at the iron door. “I didn’t bring a pick.”

Brow furrowed with worry, Impulse rushes over to the door and attacks it. Thanks to his netherite pickaxe, the door breaks within seconds, allowing Tango to squeeze past Impulse and dash into the cell.

Zedaph is lying propped up against the wall, still dressed in his superhero outfit. His skin is pale and he’s noticeably thinner than the last time Tango saw him, but that’s no surprise. He’s clearly unconscious, his chest slowly rising and falling as he takes shallow breaths.

“Zed, can you hear me?” Tango kneels down beside his best friend, trying not to panic. “Zed!”

But Zedaph doesn’t respond.

“We need to get him back to his base,” Impulse says shakily from behind him. “I’ll call the others and get them to help us.”

“No, not his base,” responds Tango immediately. “I want to take him to mine. I need him somewhere I know he’ll be safe.”

Impulse hesitates, before reassuringly gripping his friend’s shoulder. “Okay.”

…

When Zedaph opens his eyes, he finds himself in a room he knows well: the guest bedroom at Tango’s base. He’s stayed here many a time, sometimes when he and Tango have a sleepover, sometimes when he has a nightmare and doesn’t want to be alone.

Letting out a quiet groan, he pushes himself into a sitting position and notices that not only are his hands bandaged but there’s a weird kind of glyph around his wrist. As soon as he registers this, he realises he doesn’t feel hungry or thirsty anymore. That must be related to the thing on his wrist.

As he’s inspecting it more closely, the door opens and he glances up sharply.

“Oh!” Tango yelps. “Zed, you’re awake!”

He and Impulse dash to either side of the bed and sit down; the former on the side of the bed and the latter on a chair next to it.

“Hey.” Impulse’s pale face holds a wide smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Um… weird,” replies Zedaph truthfully. “What’s this thing on my wrist?”

“That’s a command bracelet X gave you,” says Tango. “You were in such a bad way when we found you that X had to use it to get your nourishment levels up. He said you might have ended up in a permanent coma if he hadn’t.”

“Wow… I can’t believe I managed to get so malnourished in only a day,” Zedaph murmurs.

Tango blinks. “A day? ONE day?”

“Y-Yeah. Why...?”

Tango and Impulse exchange a glance.

“Buddy…” Impulse clears his throat. “You were missing for just under a week.”

Zedaph’s eyes slowly widen. “Wh-What?! A week?! H-How could I have been gone that long…?!”

“I don’t know, but Xisuma said it’s a miracle there’s no permanent damage to your body or code from going that long without food or water,” says Tango shakily.

After a moment, Zedaph squeezes his eyes shut, releasing fresh tears. “Why did it take you a week to find me?”

Tango flinches, while Impulse takes his hand and grasps Zedaph’s shoulder with his other hand. “We got a message from your communicator,” Impulse replies slowly. “Saying you would be busy doing stuff on your own for a while and you didn’t want anyone to disturb you for at least a week.”

Zedaph takes a moment to digest that but when he does, his heart skips a beat. EX said they had taken Zedaph’s communicator. They must have sent that message so that it would take even longer for him to be found. How could EX be so cruel to him…?

“Th-That wasn’t me,” he rasps.

“Well, luckily, I’m super bad at following instructions,” says Tango with a weak smile. “I came over to see you after four days but I found your base empty. I dunno why, but I got a bad feeling so I looked for you in all your normal places and when I found nothing, I alerted the other Hermits and we started a server-wide hunt.” His smile drops. “I-I’m so sorry it took us this long to find you. We never expected to find you in a place like that.”

“If you feel up to talking, how DID you end up in there?” Impulse asks slowly.

Zedaph hesitates, his stomach starting to churn again. “I… I’m not ready to tell anyone what happened yet. I’m still… processing it, myself.”

“Of course.” Tango takes his best friend’s hand. “You should get some rest.”

“But first, I gotta ask you a really serious question,” says Impulse sternly.

Zedaph gazes at him nervously. “O-Okay.”

“Are you… Worm Man?”

After a moment, Zedaph spots the sparkle in Impulse’s eyes and has to laugh. His friends join in, and for a minute or so, the three just laugh together, taken by the overwhelming relief that Zedaph is back safely. Those seven days may have gone by in a blur for Zedaph but the last three days were the longest and most painful of Tango’s and Impulse’s lives.

But now, it’s finally over.

Zedaph is home.

#hermitcraft #zedaph #impulsesv #tangotek #evil xisuma #vaunna’s requests

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stonesparrow · 4 years ago

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For the dr.stone x atla crossover I feel that even if Hyoga is or was a soldier in the fire army he wouldn’t have liked the idea of a nations worth of centuries of knowledge pasted down through generations being wiped of the face of the earth.

I just had a thought Hyoga could be a soldier in the fire army but he could also be a master instructor at his own dojo he inherited from his master kinda like master Piandao. He’s still a fire bender though.

Also I think I would be a cute and funny plot twist if he has a daughter who is still young but old enough to help fight and strong enough to thanks her dad training her. I think he’d be the same tough and cold character he is but he’s surprisingly tender, caring, gental, and kind to her in his own way that would just make the characters in the dr.stone universe jaws hit the floor lol.

Ah, you do have a point with Hyoga likely being disappointed that the knowledge of airbending was lost to genocide - all those ancient techniques would probably be really fascinating to him as a martial artist. Though I can also see him buying into the Fire Nation’s imperialist message of “we are the strongest nation, so we should rule over all the weaker nations.”

I like your idea that Hyoga is a fighting instructor, with his values he’d probably be something like Zuko in skillset - he puts a lot of effort into firebending, but also into spearfighting since he deeply respects the nonbender master who taught it to him. At the same time he has no time for people who either don’t take it seriously or are too weak to make a difference.

(More under the cut because this got long)

Him having a kid is an interesting plot twist and while it’s more twisty than I’d expect, I’m kind of intrigued by the potential it has. Though that also brings up the question of who the kid’s mom is, and when the kid was born (I estimate Hyoga’s age in DCST to be around 20-22). Homura maybe? Like...perhaps Hyoga and Homura were both fairly high class and had an arranged marriage, but while Homura fell in love with him as they grew up together Hyoga only respected her as a friend and fellow fighter.

And then if they had a daughter (maybe pressured by both their parents to produce an heir of some sort) it could make them both more complex characters. If the kid was really strong though I’d lean more towards an Ozai-Azula like dynamic with Hyoga impressing his values of “only the strong and skilled deserve to live,” onto her. Plus if we’re keeping relative canon ages then I’d estimate Homura to be 20, Hyoga to be 22, and their daughter to be 2 by the time Team Avatar shows up in the Fire Nation to do their thing.

However...I can see some potential with the kid turning out physically weak, and that throwing Hyoga’s values into wack.

Let’s say the toddler was born healthy and strong and an assessment by some Fire Sages said that she’d become an extremely powerful bender - this pleases Hyoga, since he can’t imagine having fathered a weak child with him and Homura’s combined firebending ability. And indeed, by the time the kid is two she shows signs of firebending power well beyond her age group, with Hyoga planning to train her into an extraordinarily strong warrior.

Except with such a strong fire at such a young age, the little girl suddenly falls terribly ill, having raging fevers and struggling to breathe. Hyoga’s ideals would tell him that such an ill child will die, and that’s that, the weak and ill perish while the strong survive. But he finds himself insisting that the kid will survive, because she’s strong, she has to survive. She’ll recover and become the strongest firebender this side of the Nation, not die a weakling.

Some time later, the Gaang shows up to Hyoga’s town to resupply. Pre-Zuko joining but maybe somewhere between meeting Piandao and encountering Combustion Man? Aang decides to visit the local firebending dojo (rip Sokka’s nerves) because hey, he wants to see some firebending techniques from actual benders, and he can tooooootally handle staying low key this time, honest! He encounters Hyoga and gets a fair bit intimidated by him, though Hyoga seems to approve of “Kuzon’s” highly adaptive martial arts style.

At some point, a messenger comes and Hyoga slips away. Being nosy, Aang follows them and catches enough of the conversation to determine that there’s a sick kid living in that fancy mansion, and relays his concerns to the Gaang. Katara immediately wants to investigate further - Sokka is again very stressed but understands that he can’t stop his sister once she’s made a decision (plus this is post Painted Lady and Katara is even more determined not to let children suffer if she can do anything about it). But when she tries the front entrance, the guards won’t let her in, even when she says she’s a healer. In fact, they deny that there’s a sick child at all, while Aang insists he didn’t hear wrong.

So Aang and Katara, ever the problem solvers, break into the mansion (airbending is super useful!) and find the kid’s bedroom. Katara assesses the patient - she determines that even with her waterbending, the kid will likely suffer from complications her whole life due to the damage she’s already sustained. Hyoga suddenly appears, asking them how they got into his house (he’s actually very curious, since they seemed to enter silently and without alerting anyone). When Katara excuses herself and says she’s a healer from the colonies (Aang’s explanation for how Katara has “special healing techniques unlike any other”) and just wanted to help, Hyoga says that he doesn’t need a healer, and that the girl will recover soon. Katara starts to argue and Hyoga starts insinuating that he could easily beat her in combat, when Homura shows up, pleading with Katara to save her daughter.

Hyoga and Homura start arguing, with Homura saying this may be their last chance and Hyoga saying that a true daughter of his would be able to fight off the sickness alone. Homura eventually asks if he’d rather have a dead daughter than a weak one, which makes him go quiet (Aang and Katara are standing there awkwardly watching all of this). Hyoga then calmly says that since they seem to be at a standstill, the reasonable course of action is an Agni Kai (Aang goes pale at this, while Katara doesn’t actually know what that is).

In the courtyard the Gaang watches anxiously as Hyoga and Homura begin their duel, which results in quite a few impressive displays of firebending. Homura however seems to be holding back slightly, more on the run than attacking. At one point Homura gets thrown on her back and nearly burnt, but Katara calls out to her, saying she has to win for the kid. She gets back up and starts attacking Hyoga with renewed resolve, and even Hyoga is surprised.

Hyoga realizes that as loyal as Homura is to him, she really is doing her best to win, even coming at him with direct shots of flame now. And since this is still Hyoga, he respects that deeply - she’s doing things “properly,” even though she doesn’t want to. He even respects that Katara was so dedicated to her role as a healer that she broke into his house just on the mere mention that there was a sick child there.

And in the very bottom of his heart, despite all the talk of strength and weakness and who deserves to live, he has a hard time realizing that he doesn’t want his daughter to die, even if it means she’ll be weak and reliant on others her whole life. This might be a little OOC for canon Hyoga, but hey, it’s an au and maybe if canon Hyoga did have something small and weak to protect, he’d be less of an ass to Senku and company.

So at a key moment in the battle, Hyoga pauses for a split second instead of dodging a blast from Homura and allows himself to be grazed on the chin, reminiscent of his revival scars in canon. It’s not a bad burn, and those watching closely realize that he let her win. Hyoga turns to leave, only saying that Katara will be compensated for her healing services and that they truly did things “properly.”

Katara heals the girl, saying that the fever is gone but her lungs are damaged and she’ll have breathing problems from now on. She’s paid a small sack of gold by a servant that she initially refuses, but takes in the end since it’d probably be good to have extra Fire Nation currency on hand. The Gaang leaves the mansion feeling...a little conflicted about the experience, honestly.

Meanwhile as Homura sits by the girl’s bedside Hyoga appears in the doorway, having treated his burn from the duel. An awkwardly long silence passes before Hyoga says he’s been thinking about the skills that "Kuzon” and “Sapphire” displayed, and that he’s considering buying a home in the colonies so he can learn about those types of skills (since Aang claimed they were from the colonies). He turns to leave, but not before offhandedly saying that the seaside air in the colonies he’s looked at might be good for their daughter’s lungs.

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wherearemyglassesbro · 4 years ago

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i saw that you play genshin impact, so i’m kind of curious... what’d be the axis and allies’ vision and weapons?

Uh oh...now you got me started. Be warned, it’s a long one cause I have no self control

Some key terms for those who don’t play genshin impact and want to be included!!

Cryo -> ice, Hydro -> water, Dendro -> nature, Geo -> rock, Pyro -> fire, Electro -> lightning

Hilichurls: a common enemy found in the wild. Despite looking like hairy trolls, they have a district language as well as texts, art and song that they share together making them an advanced species!

Ruin guards: another enemy. Giant, scary robot...they scare me...

Knights of Favonious: an organization of knights within Mondstat that keep order and peace :) very nice guys and gals over there!!

Mondstat: modeled after Germany

Liyue: modeled after China

Alfred: pyro, claymore, Springvale Mondstat

Alfred would be a super heavy hitter in battle but his drawbacks are that despite his energetic nature, he’s slower because of the weight of his weapon

He blows stuff up a lot and sets all of the grass around you on fire so if you fight with him...His teammates will take damage from him Jeez Louise!!!

Since we don’t have all of the nations of Teyvay unlocked, I don’t know where he’d be from! I’d have to explore to get a sense for it so for characters that don’t have a place on the map yet, I’ll mark them with an asterisk from now on! :)

Idk where he lives but I do know that he’d be a devoted member of the adventurers guild! He’s always willing to offer a helping hand to anyone in need! Wether it be helping Granny Ann make hash browns or taking comissions to go kill a huge ruin guard who’s terrorizing the town!! He’s always leaping into new jobs! He isn’t even in it for the money or rewards! He just loves helping out!

Arthur: Dendro, archer, Mondstat

Artie is a beast in battle! Shooting vine Aries at enemies to tie them up or temporarily blind them??? Sick as fuck. Keep in mind, Genshin doesn’t have any Dendro characters that are playable yet so idk how they’d fight but I think I can guess :)

Artie is technically part of the knights of favonious because he works in their library. He translates books written in ancient texts into the standard language so historians and others can read what the old civilizations had to say

Instead of having normal eyes, they’re slit like snake eyes. And he has leaves instead of hair :)

He has a little seelie that floats around at his side. He talks to it but it doesn’t really do anything but provide company to a lonely guy :’) he needs more friends

Matthew: Anemo, catalyst, *

It’s always good to have a catalyst on your team! Ningguang is a great example of an underestimated catalyst cause she can do INSANE damage man!! So I think Mattie would be the same way

Matt isn’t violent and doesn’t enjoy fighting so his in-game voice lines would say that lol

Mattie is an alchemist! Well...A student alchemist. He didn’t take up an interest in alchemy until like, 3 years ago so he’s got a lot to catch up on still! He’s doing his best!

He gets very annoyed with Alfred since Mattie is detail oriented and gentle...Alfred is not any of those things. But he still loves his brother and on rare occasions, he’ll assist him with his commissions

Ivan: Cryo, catalyst, Liyue(temporary)

Ivan would be a support character for sure but he’d do a damn good job of doing it

He’s buff but he doesn’t do hand to hand combat, he’s mastered magic for a reason

Ivan spends most of his time studying hilichurls. He writes books about them, translates their texts and acts as a peace keeper when he can. He gets information from them about the Abyss Order in return for free reign of small portions of protected land where they can live without fear of being killed

Because he’s from Schneznya(spelling?) he’s kinda expected to be a bad guy but he left a long time ago. But he still sounds like he’s from there and...He’s super pale too so there really is no mistaking where he’s from

Ivan can’t stand how ignorant humans are towards hilichurls so he does everything he can to advocate for them. He’s covered in scars from when he first started engaging with the beasts. A huge scar runs down his face but he doesn’t mind it

He’s got big, sharp teeth!! So he doesn’t often smile cause he thinks he looks weird

Francis: Hyrdo, long sword, *

Fran is underestimated when it comes to combat (like Kaeya...I see you slandering this man) but he has so much potential!

Since he’s a hydro, he is so useful for elemental reactions! If he’s paired with a cryo or pyro user, he’d totally boost them!!

Fran is a traveling entertainer, he goes between the 7 nations as a singer and actor for small stage plays. He has a crew of friends who travel with him, they’re one jolly bunch!

He always acts all nonchalant and stuff but once he’s in a battle, he’s wild. Especially if the abyss order holds up his crew on their way to their next tour destination “We need to be in Liyue Harbor in four hours you are NOT holding us back!” *tidal wave*

He’s a regular tavern hopper! A very recognizable face since he’s been banned from a handful for getting too rowdy

He can make not one, but 2 special dishes :0

Yao: Dendro, polearm, Liyue

I just imagine him as a shorter, richer and cooler version of Zhongli

He’d do that kick move that Zhongli does with his polearm oh man that looks SICK dude!!!

Yao would shoot vines out and they’d strangle enemies for a few seconds before disintegrating but if he’s leveled up enough, they’ll totally strangle those stupid hillichurls lol

Yao sells rare gems and other miscellaneous items for very high prices in Liyue where he grew up. His shop is upstairs by the Fatui bank. Rich people enjoy looking at what his shop has to fifer and will argue prices with him. They’re getting scammed for sure. He’ll list a set of cor lapis earrings as $50,000 and the rich will be like ‘I’ll pay $25,000, no more than that’ and he’ll take it!!....Cause thise earrings are worth $5000 at most >:)

Hes close with a lot of the higher ups in Liyue and is often invited to fancy lunches or dinners where they discuss policy, contracts and vendor permits. He doesn’t really get a say in any of that but he benefits from listening

Kiku: Electro, claymore, *

Kiku would be SUCH an awesome electo user are you KIDDING me??? I can see it now, him swinging that huge sword around, purple lightning bolts flying all around and he looks like a total badass? Amazing vibes

When paired with cryos???? He’d do an insane amount of damage fr

Kiku runs a small restaurant where he...runs the place...but doesn’t cook. His restaurant is extremely exclusive and people often throw fits when they can’t get in cause the wait list is over 5 years long. He’ll rest his hand on their shoulder and smile ‘is something wrong? I’d love to take a complaint if you have one’...No one has even dared to complain to his face lol

Behind the restaurant front he deals with the Fatui, buying and selling minerals or artifacts. That’s where his knowledge is at, not with food. He pays his staff to ignore what goes on behind the scenes and the locals are too busy enjoying the restaurant to question what goes on after dark

Gilbert: Pyro, long sword, Mondstat

Gil would be one of the free characters given to you at the beginning of the game but hey, I’m not complaining

He’s highly destructive and very chaotic in battle, he can do that spin move even though that’s meant for claymore users

He’s Mondstat’s biggest trouble maker. He runs an underground gambling room that sits underneath a tavern. He isn’t really into gambling but he makes a lot of money by running it

The only knight who knows is Ludwig which is not good cause...Gil pretty much bribes his brother into not telling the knights of favonious (peace keepers of Mondstat)

Gil never got his gliding certificate cause he kept flying into buildings. He broke his nose doing that lol

Lovino: Pyro, catalyst, *

I can’t add anymore images so imagine a floating, red and black orb. Lovi doesn’t get a book catalyst cause he doesn’t read :) That’s the catalyst thing I’m talking about 😅😅

My guy has the angriest in game voice lines, he’s inconvenienced by every battle, every enemy is ugly and a fuckin disaster. He’s just. Angry.

He’d be a super weak character if he needed to rely on hand to hand combat but he learned magic for a reason babey

He owns a flower stand in his country and makes all kinds of beautiful flower arrangements. He even picks his own flowers in the fields when he can (but usually pays the town’s children to do it for him to ‘teach them the value of hard work’).

Everyone knows he’s a total hothead and will piss him off on purpose just cause it’s funny lmao. But then somehow...Their hair or clothes will just...catch on fire. So is it really worth it to tease him? :/

Feliciano: Hydro, archer, Mondstat(temporary)

I feel like Feli would also be a free character, not cause he isn’t good or anything! But you always need an archer on your team!

Feli has healing properties for his team and doesn’t do an insane amount of damage but when given the right resources, he’d be a pretty sick healer

He moved to Mondstat to join the church there. He leads prayers in front of the church and sings in the choir inside.

He is the sweetest and has never committed a crime in his LIFE but he’s afraid of the knights lol he’s terrified that he’ll get in trouble and be kicked out of Mondstat forever! That would never happen but he’s a worry wart cause of his brother

Ludwig: Geo, long sword, Mondstat

Lud is the only one that I could really think of as a Geo but Geos are awesome :)

He’s a hard hitter but has like...No shield so he’ll take damage fast if you don’t give him those artifacts with shield in them or whatever lol uhhhh I wouldn’t know anything about that cause I suck at building my teams ;-;

He’d totally be in with the knights of favonious! (I think that’s spelled right lol) but he’d take his duty as a knight very seriously!! He’s a familiar face around Mondstat, the elderly absolutely adore him and the local teenage girls swoon over him which he finds super embarrassing lol

He has to work hard to keep Gilbert in check cause even though Gil isn’t a knight, his actions reflect negatively back on Lud very often... :(

Please ignore the spelling errors and terrible photo cropping on my part lol this was so fun!!

By the time you’re seeing this, ive already made full outfit red sheets for everyone mentioned above!!!! :D

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toomuchponytail · 5 years ago

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Caretaker/reluctant caretaker having to force feed a whumpee pain or sleeping meds bc they're panicking too hard to listen to reason and/or keep refusing to take meds out of fear that its poison

Anon! Thank you for submitting this! I really like this one, (I actually think I’m going to do forced sleeping pills soonish in addition to this one because I liked it so much--you could say it is my jam this week, lol) I hope this is sort of what you were hoping for?

Thank you for being awesome!

I hope your day is hot sand and cool water, the duality of beach days, both the sand and the sandwich, hopefully not as one entity.

I wish you the strength to get through the bad knowing that the good is on the way, waiting in the wings, and that your feet don’t burn with all the steps you’ve taken on this weary earth.

But if they do I wish you lake water, deep and dark and refreshing.

Take both care and smooth stones from all the beaches life gives you.

Enjoy! :D

Hero pulled into base as the sun crested over the city with all the enthusiasm of a convict returning to prison.

He sat in the car as the engine cooled, scrubbing a trembling hand over his face, his eyes felt like they were full of sand, the muscles in his arms and shoulders burned fiercely when he shifted to open the door, he walked up the path to the door on legs that felt like rubber.

As he fumbled briefly with his keys he began to fantasize about falling into bed and just sleeping for ten--maybe even twenty four hours, it would beat the hell out of what he was doing ever since super villain had resurfaced, catching sleep half hours at a time during the day, or while off watch at base.

He’d actually managed to do something last night, catch a few of super villain's guys robbing the Gadinia st. bank, when he’d questioned them after stopping them one of them had actually given him a lead as to where super Villain’s base was.

It was a win--one he’d follow up on after he’d gotten some sleep, he wasn’t much good to anyone like this, let alone the whole city.

He set his keys on the counter, pouring himself a tall glass of water to try and cut the dust he felt in his throat.

It was oddly peaceful in base today, the main room was actually completely empty in fact….Where was everyone else?!

Hero jumped into high alert, glad he hadn’t taken off his cuffs when he’d entered like he normally did, he began to methodically sweep the building, room by room, clearing it in the unnatural silence.

His mind, though sharpened by adrenaline was still in a buzz of exhaustion, it felt like his thoughts were traveling to him through a mesh sieve.

Had his team told him that they were going to be somewhere else? He couldn’t remember that, but he wasn’t 100% sure either. As he cleared the last room he heard the door burst open, followed by the voices of his team, all of them talking at once in a wall of frantic sound that made him more nervous than he had been in the silence.

He rushed to the mainroom hearing the sounds of desperate struggling, was one of them injured? What was going on?!

“Where were you!?” One of the other heroes called to him accusingly when he rounded the corner, the other hero was helping leader, their sidekick, and two other heroes contain the heavily struggling antagonist who was bleeding badly from a wound somewhere in his side.

The antagonist was panicking, trying to push the other off of him, there was an odd wild disconnected look in his eyes, they looked scared and lost, like a hunted animal.

“I didn’t--My phone got smashed, what happened?” Hero stuttered, blinking as his team fought the antagonist into the room and laid him on the couch, as soon as they tried to let go of him he tried to bolt, struggling to escape as if his life depended on it, only to collapse to the floor, not strong enough to get anywhere.

Hero hadn’t seen the antagonist in more than a month, they’d been so preoccupied by super Villain that they hadn’t even checked up on their regular nemesis’s whereabouts. They could see that the last few weeks hadn’t been kind, they were much thinner than they had been the last time they’d seen them, their eyes were wild and shone with raw panic, they were mumbling half spoken pleas in a broken painful croak of a voice but they sounded resigned, like the mercy that they were begging for they didn’t expect.

“Stop! No more, no more! Please!” They groaned, turning away as best they could.

The other hero made eye contact with hero over the weakly struggling antagonist, “We don’t know,” they said grimly, “We found them collapsed in a dumpster, an informant called it in.”

“Can you bring in some bandages hero?” Leader asked, they were trying to put pressure on the antagonist's wound, they pulled up the antagonist's shirt, trying to get a better look at what they were working with--what they saw made them gasp, all the sound in the room died, hands loosened their hold on the antagonist enough for them to pull away and curl in on themselves, pulling as far away from the heroes as they could with a choked groan.

The antagonist’s torso and back were ripped to shreds, covered in raised angry welts and ragged edges of flesh that wept blood.

They’d been whipped, burned, beaten, hero wasn’t sure what was worse, they swallowed hard to keep from being sick, leader had gone pale, they looked down at the blood on their hands, the antagonist writhed with agony behind them, seemingly in too much pain to stop moving.

Other hero had stepped back when the wounds were revealed, “Who’d do something like that?” They whispered in horror, watching as the antagonist’s movements grew weaker, the shuddering more pronounced.

“Super Villain would, if they wanted something from them,” Hero stated through clenched teeth, “We’ve got to do something!”

“First we do this,” leader snapped, steeling themselves to the task at hand “Bandages, please.”

Hero went to the medical cabinet, retrieved rolls of bandages, a bowl some warm water, a cloth, and a small bottle of strong pain relievers.

When Hero got back into the room leader had positioned other hero, their partner, and the others to what were hopefully less painful holds for the antagonist. They’d gotten their better holds on him, in his weakened state is wasn’t difficult to restrain him anyway.

“Look around antagonist, it’s us, hero’s over there, you’re safe,” other hero tried to reassure, but the antagonist didn’t seem to hear them, they were still trying to pull away, babbling weakly in supplication.

Other hero winced as they tried to hold the antagonist gently, they didn’t like thinking that in their struggle to control them they’d hurt them even more than they were hurt already.

Hero handed the supplies to leader, who took them grimly, hero sat by the antagonist’s head, keeping them from whipping it from side to side like they had been, they smoothed the antagonist’s sweaty hair away from their face.

“N-no,” the antagonist groaned, when they felt leader gently grasp the bottom of their shirt, when the leader started to remove their shirt, unsticking it from their wounds the antagonist screamed, ragged and broken, hero winced, feeling a pang of guilt, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for this. He took two of the pills from the bottle and placed them in his palm, “Antagonist? Can you hear me? Hey, you in there?” he tried to keep his voice from shaking.

“No, no please,” the antagonist choked out, “I don’t--can’t! Please! No more!”

“We’re helping you okay? Can you take these for me?” Hero held the drugs up for the antagonist to hopefully see, but the antagonist didn’t seem to understand them.

“Please,” they begged,“I can’t take it anymore.”

Hero set his mouth grimly, taking the antagonist’s jaw in his hand he opened it gently, forcing the pills inside the antagonist's mouth despite the antagonist’s weak thrashing. Hero hoped that the antagonist wouldn’t choke, but they needed them to swallow those pills, they were delirious in their current state, too out of it to know that the heroes were helping them.

The antagonist tired to spit out the medication, but hero clamped their hand over their mouth, they struggled violently for a moment, perhaps thinking they were being drugged by the people that hurt them, but they couldn’t keep it up for more than a few tense seconds, they didn’t have anything left.

The antagonist swallowed the pills, sagging into themselves in both defeat and bone-deep exhaustion, when the leader started to gently wash their collection of wounds the intensity of the pain only helped to send them into unconsciousness.

The antagonist passed out hurting and held down in a strange place by foreign hands that he didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

#HERO X VILLAIN #Whump #Villain whump #bleeding #Antagonist whump #Begging #delirious #forced medical help #team caretakers #exhaustion #prompt #writing prompt #whump prompt #captivity?

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a-decent-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Sick-fic headcanons

idk if this appropriate for this time but...

Kuroo X Kenma

- Kuroo is surprisingly whiny when he’s sick and absolutely despises getting sick.

- He’d be the type of person to ignore it until he has like a raging 103° F (39° C) fever and someone forces him to go home.

- “i promise i’m not sick it’s just a head ache”

- insists on working through a fever and Kenma has to be like “get into bed idiot”

- “if you wanted to get me into bed all you had to do was ask kitten”

- “I will let you die”

- Secretly enjoys getting parts of sick because he can get Kenma to dote on him.

- Kenma has gotten better at taking care of himself but still has a relatively weak immune system

- has headaches because he’s super busy and almost always looks at the screen

- wears a-lot of masks because he coughs a lot but has the added bonus of pretty good at hiding his identity

- when they first start dating he kinda has to fight Kuroo off and Kuroo eventually gets it and understands when it’s not that bad.

- But when it does get really bad Kuroo is the best at making him feel better

Bokuto x Akaashi

- Bokuto Has like one errant sniffle or cough and Akaashi is like “Bokuto-san, you are a professional and you have practice tomorrow you cannot afford to get sick. Wear your scarf, take my hat, are you going to take your thick jacket? here are some hand-warmers.” and Bokuto thinks this is adorable.

- This is because Boktuo doesn’t really get sick

- When he does get sick it’s annoying to others because he seems to get better over night.

- “It’s because of my great sleep regimen and great metabolism”

- “i’m too annoyed to tell you that’s not how it works Kou-chan”

- Whenever Bokuto gets really sick everyone panics and Akaashi is always this close to calling Urgent Care

- “Keji, i promise you don’t need to call the hospital”

- Akaashi literally stops being able to function, sleeps for like twenty hours straight

- Bokuto is a very doting boyfriend he brings Akaashi soup and masked cheek kisses until Akaashi feels better.

- all Akaashi wants to do is cuddle until he feels better and bokuto is only too happy to oblige

- Usually takes a long time to get better but doesn’t get sick often either.

- Like with a cold it can take him weeks to stop coughing.

Iwaizumi x Oikawa

- another one of those “lol what, i’m not sick, its only allergies”

- “iwachan, you’re pale and wobbled as you got out of bed this morning”

- hates being sick

- Oikawa dosen’t really know how to take care of sick person so he just buys like eight types of medicine and a bunch of things he hopes will make a person feel better

- Has to fight Oikawa off because the idiot is always insisting on kisses “ Oi, i don’t want you getting sick”

_ functions surprisingly well when sick

- Oikawa is the whiny, demanding sick person

- Iwaizumi grumbles the entire time taking care of him but obviously he loves the attention

- like many, he enjoys cuddles

- his voice gets more nasally than usual when he’s congested and Iwaizumi thinks its the funniest things in the world.

Daichi X Suga

- Suga does not like getting sick so he will legit do anything to avoid it.

- like you get sick and he’s like “nope get you and your pathogens the fuck away from me”

- “you’s sick, you’s on your own honey”

- eats a lot of oranges

- Daichi takes care of himself like a good person

- Daichi makes great chicken soup because his little siblings get sick all the time.

- They don’t really have cold medication in their house so when they have to go and buy some they always overbuy and it expires.

Also, Send Prompts and Ships i wanna see what my Haikyuu brain is made of

#kuroken #BokuAka #i dont know how to write a sickfic so this is my best #kuroo tetsurou #Kozume Kenma #akaashi keiji #bokuto koutaro #iwaoi #Iwaizumi Hajime #oikawa torū #daisuga #sawamura daichi #sugawara kōshi #fluff #sick fic #Headcanon #haikyuu #bokuaka

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endless-whump · 5 years ago

Note

My little heart’s been yearning for some Irondad recently, lol. Prompt (only if you want to!) so Tony’s been down with a cold, and Peter ends up catching it because he’s been around helping Tony, and he tries to hide it, but his body is too extra so he ends up way worse and he doesn’t understand because it’s supposed to just be a cold. So he’s aware he’s getting worse and he’s frustrated and Tony finally steps in

Thank you for the writing inspiration, Im sorry this took so long to get out! I hope this lives up to what you were looking for!

It started when Tony was acting more tired than usual while he and Peter were working on his suit one Saturday. He kept sneezing every once in a while, resting his forehead against the desk when he thought nobody was looking. Peter noticed, though, and insisted they take a break.

They’d gotten some hot chocolate and settled on the couch for the evening, content to watch some movies and relax at Tony’s cabin. Tony tried to insist Peter stay away in fear he’d catch the cold he had, but Peter simply brushed his concerns off, going on about how he didn’t get sick easily after the spider bite.

Peter left the next day, needing to get home so he could go to school on Monday. He noticed being a little more tired than usual, but didn’t think anything of it.

“Did you stay up late patrolling last night?” Ned whispered during class. Peter shot him a glare, trying to get him to shut up.

“No, I didn’t. Why?”

Ned shrugged. “You look really tired, and a little pale. You feeling ok?”

Peter just waved him off. “Might be getting a cold, Tony had one when I went over there this weekend. I’ll just sleep it off tonight.”

Ned didn’t push it, and they went about their day like normal. Peter did some patrolling that night, exhausted and a little shaky when he got back, which was strange.

May noticed Peter was a little warm the next morning when he was trying to leave for school, frowning at him and brushing his hair out of his face.

“Maybe you should stay home?” She suggested. “I don’t want whatever you might be catching to get worse.”

“I’m fine, May.” Peter insisted, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “You know I don’t really get sick anymore.”

She gave him a hard look but didn’t say anything, letting him walk out the door of the apartment.

It only got worse from there. Peter couldn’t barely conceal the shivers that plagued him throughout the day, feeling lightheaded and shaky even when he made sure to eat, which he soon realized was getting harder as the food became difficult to keep down.

He finally caved in when in class he zoned out so bad, feeling dizzy and far away when he almost broke an empty test tube Ned had playfully tossed towards him, reactions slow and hands unsteady.

He excused himself from the class, locking himself in the bathroom and sitting on the floor. He put his head in his hands, trying to get rid of the pounding headache. Peter dug his nails into his palms, focusing on his breathing as he shivered.

He wasn’t supposed to be able to get sick. He was supposed to be Spiderman, to be able to help people. He wasn’t supposed to need help or to have to stay home when there were things he needed to do and people he needed to help.

Peter shakily stood up, going over to the sinks and splashing water in his face. He just needed to pull himself together, this wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

He went back to class, ignoring the concerned looks he got and the continued nagging from Ned. When school was finally over Peter felt like he was ready to collapse, relieved to be free from all the haggling about his health. They acted like he was on deaths door, but this was just a cold, right?

Peter had just made up his mind to go home and sleep before he got a text, opening his phone.

Out front waiting-Happy

Peter groaned in frustration. He’d completely forgotten he was supposed to go to the tower after school to work on some stuff with Tony. He considered bailing, but he knew Tony would just come poking in his business to see what was up.

He trudged to the sidewalk, spotting the familiar car that usually picked him up. He tossed his backpack in before climbing in the back seat, shutting the door and resting his head against the back of the seat.

“Your less chattery than usual.” Happy pointed out, putting the car in drive and pulling into the road.

“Just tired.” Peter mumbled, looking out the window. Happy didn’t push it, driving smoothly through the traffic until they reached the tower. Peter mumbled his thanks as he got out, pain shooting through his head as he stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

He managed to get in the building without an issue, punching the elevator button to take him to the lab and leaning against the wall. The soft whirring of machinery was enough to have him relax in the dim, warm elevator until he was startled by the ding, indicating he was at his floor. He hefted his backpack tiredly as he walked into the lab, head down.

He really didn’t want to face Mr Stark right now, intending to quietly bypass where his mentor was huddled over a project, and slip to his own desk, but Tony had other plans.

“Hey Underoos, how come your la-” He stopped, looking at Peter intently. He groaned inside, wanting to escape the unwanted attention.

“Peter, are you ok?” Came the question he was expecting, yet didn’t quite know how to answer.

“I’m fine, Mr Stark, it was just cold, and it was a long day at school.” he set his bag on the floor as he sat down, grateful he didn’t have to worry about how badly his legs were shaking now.

“Uh huh, I don’t buy it for a second.” Came the retort from his mentor. “You look like death washed over, you’re clearly sick.”

Peter was looking down at his workbench trying to ignore him when his spider senses went off quietly, and he looked up to see Tony tossing him a tool. He barely caught it, now frustrated. He wasn’t sure if it was Tony he was mad at or himself, but he didn’t care.

The stool rolled out from underneath him as he stood up, close to tears.

“Knock it off, Tony! Your always-”

He swayed, his head pounding. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he could hear his mentors concerned, muffled voice as he fell, expecting to met the floor but instead being caught in Tony’s arms.

“Peter?!,” He asked, panicked, lowering Peter to the ground as his eyes fluttered shut. He sighed, cursing his bad back as he picked up the teen, carrying him to a nearby couch in the lab.

“FRIDAY, check his vitals, please.” He called out, biting back a mutter of frustration when the AI reported Peter’s rising fever. He left briefly, running as fast as he could to collect what he needed and returning to a waking up, disoriented Peter.

“Hey, Pete, I need you to stay still for me, bud.” Tony soothed as Peter tried to sit up, groaning in pain. “You passed out on me, I don’t think you get to claim everything’s ok anymore.”

He pushed Peter back until he was laying down without much resistance, which almost concerned Tony above all else. He quickly layered the shivering teen with blankets, holding a water bottle up to him as he tried to get him to drink.

“Your looking super dehydrated, Peter. Jesus, I didn’t need you inheriting my awful self preservation skills, kid.”

Once he got some water and medicine in him, Tony sat next to him, laying Peters head in his lap as he ran his fingers through the teens soft hair. He was surprised when Peter moved closer to him, mumbling something as he relaxed, drifting in and out of sleep as he fought the fever.

Guilt gnawed at Tony, and he felt like he was partially responsible for giving the kid the awful sickness going around. He pulled the blankets tighter around them, picking up his phone and texting May that Peter had shown up sick, but that he was fine and getting taken care of.

He made a note to himself to get the kid something to eat when he woke up, and if it got any worse he’d contact Dr Cho.

“I’m sorry, Underoos,” He muttered, hugging Peter close to him. He knew he couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t quite care. “I shouldn’t have messed around with you,,I know you think you hide it, but I can see you trying to hide things from me because you want to be strong. I know you don’t want to show any signs of weakness, but you need to learn at some point, and so do I, that we’re allowed to be weak sometimes. We’re allowed to be vulnerable and taken care of when we need it.” He sighed.

“Jesus, you’re a teenager, you don’t need this hero complex on you so early.”

He continued running his hands through his hair, brushing a curl from his face. Peter, who was still awake, kept his eyes closed, holding back tears at Tony’s words as he let himself relax, falling asleep with the gentle touch

#Peter Parker whump #sickfic #Peter Parker sick #irondad #whump #I'm sorry this took me so long #ironed whump #sick peter #miserable peter

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second-chance-stray · 4 years ago

Photo

RP Log: Rising is sick, and Cravs won’t have it.

Cravendy Hound is busy moving all sorts of wooden furniture from her room to a series of boxes that litter the company foyer. It’s hard work, and something that demands her full attention until the task is done. She wipes her forehead free of sweat with the back of her hand. Finally, it was quiet again...and in that silence, perhaps there were subtle things that Cravs would now notice?

Rising Lotus at some point during Cravs moving everything back and forth, Rising had slipped through, groaning a bit as she was still looking quite ill. She climbed the stairs to get herself some water, groggy curses coming from her mouth as most of the grub was moved up there some time ago. As she made her way to the bottom of the stairs, she leaned against the banister, watching Cravs move the stuff for quite a while, she didn't want to hold her up as she shambled back to her room.

Cravendy Hound: “Eh? Well, if it ain’t the flyin’ flower ‘erself.” Cravs claps her hands together in order to get the last bit of dust off of them, and then quickly jogs over before Rising is able to make it back to her room. Closer now, she’s able to see how much of a mess the other woman is. Clearly sick, and clearly suffering. Cravs stops in her tracks. “Oi bugger, ye look like shite...don’t tell me yer still sick?”

Rising Lotus cocked her head a bit as she was addressed. "Flyin'...oh, I get it." she let out a weak chuckle that turned into cough. "Yeah I guess so... don't usually get hit this...." her hand twirled as she tried to think of the word "Hard..? Ugh." sniffling, she ran her hand over her hair to try and unmess it up. "I'm at least able to walk about a bit now, was sleepin' all day first day."

(Cravendy Hound) I don't know what's worse. When it rains after snow and everything's gross slush, or after when the water freezes, forming ice/snow. And then everyone starts slipping, people + cars both D:< )) (Rising Lotus) The worst part is people that live in it for years that forget how to drive in it the second it starts up again. Also you really got me with Flying Flower x3))

Cravendy Hound crosses her arms with a frown, feeling somewhat responsible. If she had brought an umbrella, or hadn’t insisted on going fishing that day, then none of this would’ve happened. In fact, wasn’t Rising there when they were fighting the Dodo at Dirtpatch?! A judgement forms in Crav’s head...that Rising is just going to get worse if left to her own devices. Cravs shakes her head in concern. “What are ye dealin’ with? Fever, chills, a cough...?”

Rising Lotus nodded slowly after each symptom Cravs listed off "Aye..sneezin' an' uh... head feelin'..." bringing her hand close, she'd pull them apart with her fingers extending "Jus', ya know...pressure-y. Got some things to help with it, jus' still takin' awhile to get uh... " she brought her hand up to rub her temple "all better I guess. Ugh.."

(Cravendy Hound) hope it wasn't too confusing xD )) (Rising Lotus) It was something where I read it and got it, then it got funnier and cuter the more I started thinking it over lol)) (Cravendy Hound) well here comes more blisteringly sweet stuff xD ))

Cravendy Hound: “Stop figetin’ for a sec, will ye?” Without thinking, Cravs lifts the hair that usually covers her face, and gets close to touch foreheads with Rising. She stays like this for a second, then pulls back looking angier than before. “Bloody scrag, ‘ow are ye even standin’ right now? Yer burning up. Come on, let’s get ye into a bed afore ye set the stairs on fire with that fever of yers.”

Cravendy Hound grabs Rising’s wrist and, while attempting to drag the other woman along, makes a beeline towards the clinic. It’s during this time that her actions begin to catch up in her mind. Damnit, old habits die hard. As soon as she could, she’d have to explain...that.

(Cravendy Hound) it's something my mom used to do w/ me :D )) (Cravendy Hound) ALSO Cravs def sees Rising like a lil sis (which she pretty much sees everyone as) but I'll throw wood onto the proverbial fire for potential goofy hijinks ))

Rising Lotus 's eyes went wide as Cravs was so suddenly touching foreheads with her, frozen as she wasn't quite sure how to react to, whatever was happening. "W-what are..." despite her paleness, there was the smallest tinge of red in her cheeks as Cravs pulled away. "O-oh...That's...huh." still processing, she was easily dragged along to wherever Cravs was taking her. As she watched her door pass by she started to weakly protest. "You don't have to toss me in there...don't want to be..." she lifted her arm to cough into her sleeve " a bother to people actually needin' the, the help."

(Cravendy Hound) ahhaha )) (Cravendy Hound) o we can move to the actual clinic. It looks super cool :> )) (Rising Lotus) Also that was super cute xD and it'll be good for Rising to have someone like that! Hasn't been close in anyone for while since her wife left))

Cravendy Hound chuckles at Rising’s weak protests. “This place is exactly for people like ye!” Cravs tugs her to the corner, and then sets her down on the bed. “Now, lie down ‘ere, and don’t move.” She commands, and then heads off to search the medical cabinets for anything that might help alleviate her friend’s symptoms. After some rummaging, she first comes back with a small hand towel, soaking in a bowl of cool water.

Cravendy Hound - As she lifts her sleeves and gets the towel ready, she rambles on absentmindedly. “I used to do this all the time for my little sis. She was always catchin’ colds and doin’ otherwise dumb shite...stupidly brave, she was.” Cravs pauses for a second, and then grimaces. “S-so that’s what the ‘ead bump was about! Er. Sorry. Probably crossed a line there.”

Rising Lotus plopped down onto the bed, groaning a bit as Cravs ordered her to lay down. She did it of course, but if her friend would ask it would because she wanted to. "You don't have to do all this ya know..." she sounded a bit sheepish "I can...probably.." considering how many days she was out maybe this was the proper course of action. A weak scowl escaped her lips "Gods damn it, we ain't known each other long enough for ya to see me in such a pitiful state." she rested her hand on her forehead >

Rising Lotus: Before dragging it down her face. Crav's explaining the forehead bopping did cause her to smirk though. "O-okay... d-don't do that to a girl without some warnin'..my ma always jus' used her hand back in the day."

Cravendy Hound awkwardly laughs in response. “I wasn’t thinkin’, but yeah. Yer right, yer right....” Memories of similarly awkward misunderstandings bubble to the surface, one after the other like a chain reaction. Cravs becomes as stiff as a board as she recalls a particularly embarrassing moment, one that made it all the way to the bedroom before she realized what was going on.

Cravendy Hound ‘s face slowly becomes beet red as the conversation that followed, terrible and idiotic, plays word for word back to her in her head. As her captain had always told her...she was as perceptive as a log when it came to things of that nature. Cravs abruptly clears her throat.

Cravendy Hound: “We’re both fighters. Nothin’ to be ashamed of. For every battle, there’s recovery.” She then presents the folded towel, pleasantly chilled, to Rising’s face. A gesture that, this time, asks...may I?

Rising Lotus grumbles a bit "I 'spose...won't get any cool scars or tales to tell 'bout it though." she gave Cravs a nod as the towel was brought over, the cool cloth helping to soothe her burning forehead. " Least it's jus' a cold this time...the last time I was, this..." she paused for a moment. "At least this sick...It was cause of a nasty bite." she raised her left arm up. "You can still kinda see it..." she must of thought she was pointing to it, but there was a fait bit mark on her forearm.

Rising Lotus: "Was poisonous too, an' the gobbie potion I took probably made it worse.." she took a deep breath before she continued, coughing lightly "So I was holed up in...the hole I lived in up there. Though Violet came all the way to help me...that was nice..." as she trailed off her eyes drifted towards the wall, staying silent on the matter after that.

Cravendy Hound places the towel over Rising’s forehead, and then peers at the scars on her arm. Healed over, but even still she could get a sense of how bad it was when the wound was fresh. Cravs bobs her head in admiration. “Must’ve been some bite. Were ye fightin’ some manner of ‘boro? Stinky buggers are all jaws, all legs. Bad business.”

Cravendy Hound doesn’t push about Violet. Though Cravs had a track record of bluntly nosing her way into other people’s business, it was only when she thought she could help. Here, she sensed Rising wasn’t ready to talk, and it certainly wasn’t her place to ask.

Rising Lotus "I can't say what it was. I mean, I KNOW what it is...I jus' can't.." she furrowed her brow as she apparently was having trouble with the word for not saying a word. "Ya know.. talk it. Great big bug..the bug folk in Dravania use 'em." she huffed, sounding a bit frustrated. "Gods, even thinkin' is takin' too much energy." a drawn out sigh left her lips, following by some more coughing. "Hey..." she looked up to Cravs "Thanks for..uh.. I guess this...not exactly draggin' me here but..."

Rising Lotus: flipped her hand up, hoping by now the Cravs would understand what she meant. " I 'spose this is probably a better place than my mess of a room.. an' the towel is far nicer than gettin' Hop to sit on my head."

Cravendy Hound: “Stop thinkin’ so much then, and get some rest. I’ll ask the medic to leave some medicine by the table for ye when ye wake up.” Cravs tilts her head, amused. She assumes ‘Hop’ is the sproutling that she’s seen trail Rising in the past, and looks around for it.

Cravendy Hound - Failing to find Hop, she gets ready to leave in order to give Rising some peace and quiet. Before she lets the curtain fall behind her, she turns around for one last thing. “If ye need anythin’, ye can...borrow this.” Cravs places a linkshell by the bedside table. “Don’t let me catch ye trippin’ down the stairs again.”

Rising Lotus nodded "Aye, I promis ya the next time ya see me, I'll be.." she shot Cravs a finger pistol, but couldn't quite get anything catchy out. She eventually gave up and shuffled in bed a bit, getting herself comfy. "I think I'll try restin' a bit till then though." her eyes started to drift closed, how could she feel so exhausted from just a trip up the stairs?

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Rising Lotus #SOFF......rp #it doesn't matter if the person is OLDER than cravs #if she's fond of you #she WILL be your guardian older sis #she WILL embarrass you #AND HERSELF

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notcanoncompliant · 5 years ago

Text

Loss of Faith

Remember when I was like ‘777 fic, woooo’ and then nothing happened? This is that fic. 777 is God’s number or something, so I went super the other direction.

Disclaimers:

1. Peter and Tony are pretty OOC. This is mostly aesthetic/setting driven. 2. I am not religious in the slightest. lol

***********************************************

TW: blasphemy, religion, demons/demonic stuff, homophobia, mild internalized homophobia, implied/referenced child abuse (Howard’s A+ parenting), blood mention, lots of references to eating/devouring (all metaphorical, but just in case), suicide mention/suicidal thoughts

And away we go…

***********************************************

{2020}

Tony leaves his flock for an abandoned church by the sea.

It’s where he–where they will wait, for the month, the day, the hour.

It’s too far north along the coast for real, persisting sunlight, but it doesn’t matter. The first few days, Tony spends most of his time on one of the padded benches in the entryway, watching the rain trickle down the outside of the stained glass windows that flank the front door. When the rain is calmer (not beating against the boards and glass), he sits out on the top step under the awning and stares down the path between the borders of swaying dune grass under the ever-grey sky, and does as he’d been told.

***

Days turn into a week. Peter still hasn’t come, and Tony can’t keep sitting around.

He uses his anxious energy to sweep the crust of salt and sand from the wooden floorboards in the entry hall (some of it is ground into the un-stained wood, never to be extracted) and to board up the few cracked and broken plain-glass windows with spare lumber he finds in a back supply room.

When his hands and back and knees need a break from the work, he wanders to one of the foremost pews to sit and look up at the colored expanse making up most of the wall behind the pulpit. An abandoned building is usually irresistible fodder for less than reputable explorers; he wonders what sort of power has kept the most beautiful panes from taking the brunt of any local teens and drunks.

Dark eyes flash through his mind.

He imagines Peter walking ahead of him to step up past the altar and run fingertips down a section of the driftwood cross.

Tony wants to scream, or maybe fall to his knees and pray.

He does neither.

***

{1990}

The town’s small, almost the entirety clustered together in the pews every Sunday. Everyone knows everyone, and new faces cause talk (no one wants to call it gossip; too close to something sinful), but everyone notices.

Tony notices. He feels the new boy’s eyes on him every service. If he turns around in his seat, he knows he’ll see honey-brown shining from the back pew. He’s about Tony’s age, maybe a little younger.

It only takes a week.

Peter stands before Tony on the steps to the church and asks if he’d like to go to the little taco truck down the road and maybe walk to the park? The pink stain on Peter’s cheeks says too much and not enough.

‘No’ sticks in Tony’s throat, comes out as a shy ‘Yeah, sure’. He tries not to think of the heat in his own face, or the hummingbird rhythm fluttering behind his ribs

***

{2020}

‘Gone’ doesn’t mean anything. Thirty years of distance don’t mean anything. And those things mean even less when Tony steps into the attic bedroom and finds his past right there in front of him, dressed all in black and sprawled on the ratty armchair Tony still hasn’t managed to haul away.

Peter manages to look both impeccable and very at home in the time-weathered, dusty space; an angel in a decaying throne room.

“Hello, Father,” Peter says, the corners of his mouth ticking up.

Tony crosses slowly to the bed and lowers himself to sit at the edge, uncaring of the way the springs croak under his weight.

There are things he should ask, questions that matter:

What’s left for me after this life, now? Where do I go when you’re done with me?

But Peter is here, gorgeous, untouched by age and everything else that’s ravaged Tony’s body, and Tony is weak.

“Did you ever really love me?” he asks.

The rain patters loudly against the bedroom (attic) windows, beats against the roof. Peter smiles a little. His eyes are the color of burnt honey in the lamp light.

“I always have.”

Tony swallows, nods, mostly to himself.

When Peter rises fluidly from the armchair and steps forward, Tony’s chest tightens–but his hands still come up automatically to rest on Peter’s hips as the younger (looking) straddles his lap.

Peter’s next words are a warm, satisfied murmur, washing across Tony’s lips.

“Even more so, now. You’ve given up everything for me.”

The truth of it burns, but the weight of Peter on his thighs, the press of their bodies and the twin hardness made obvious, turns the heat into something that doesn’t hurt so much.

{1990}

“Fuck what they think.”

“Peter!” Tony says on a surprised laugh. He tries (and fails) to hold back his grin at Peter’s unrepentant look.

It’s beautiful outside, the sun spilling through the leafy canopy above them, dappling the grass in their clearing with spots of gold. Howard still hasn’t found this place, far enough in the woods behind the church that Pastor Stark wouldn’t deign to venture, and Tony’s hoping to keep it that way.

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Peter insists. “Going to hell for wanting to hold hands? To kiss each other, to touch? Love isn’t a sin.”

Tony stiffens, his retort sticking in his throat.

He pushes himself up onto his elbows, twists to stare down at Peter.

“Love?”

Peter looks fondly amused where he’s still stretched out on the green.

“Yes, love. I love you, Tony.”

He’s laying so that the speckled light doesn’t touch his face. His eyes look darker in the dappling shadows, almost black. But his smile is as warm as ever, as kind.

Tony rolls over, ignoring the faint twist of ‘wrong’ (like he always does), and sprawls along the length of the other teen’s body. He slots their legs together and brushes a breathless, smiling kiss across his boyfriend’s lips.

“I love you, too.”

***

{2020}

It’s supposed to be harder.

He’s supposed to be angrier, guiltier. The flames of the pit themselves should be licking under his skin and reminding him of all he’s given up for something he’s spent more than half his life ‘fighting’.

But he gives in shamefully quickly, even as Peter’s eyes turn black as pitch, fathomless and ancient (for all that they seem to repel the light, they are not empty).

Tony thinks traitorous thoughts–

Maybe this is what the fire feels like…maybe this is sin–the delicious dark heat that pours over him, this tingling warmth that spreads through his body, that envelops and invades everything (especially those parts of him so glad to be enveloped and invaded); how could it be so wrong when it feels anything but?

–and he shudders as they are whispered back, Peter’s voice low and sweet in his ear, praising him for opening up, accepting what he’s being given.

And he is. He’s tilting his head, pressing back into the pillow, closing his eyes and exposing his throat as he opens first for Peter’s confident and surprisingly careful fingers, and then for something larger, harder, more.

Taking everything Peter gives.

Over and over and over again.

***

{1990}

During the services Howard has him assisting, Tony barely casts a glance in Peter’s direction. It’s hard, impossible–but fear is a strong motivator, and he fears losing Peter too much to draw attention to him. He knows his father must be aware, at least in part–but Stark men are particularly good at pretending their problems away, and in this case, Tony’s perfectly happy to let Howard pretend ignorance.

After every service, hours later, he always apologizes to Peter with words and hands and the press of lips.

Now, as with every time, the apology is accepted in kind.

“I love you,” Peter says into the hairsbreadth of space between their lips. “I’ll wait for you. One day you won’t have to apologize anymore.”

Tony swallows, nods. It’s a reminder that always leaves him sick with hope–sometimes more sick than hopeful. But he wants it, wants to stop apologizing, wants to just…keep this. What they have. Even if it means changing everything.

Peter smiles at him, heat in the curve of his lips, eyes black in the darkness of the clearing. “I believe in you, Tony. I’ll follow where you go. Always.”

***

{2020}

The aches are fading.

Tony spends hours dusting, cleaning, repairing; his hands don’t cramp, his knees and back don’t protest. When he asks about it, he gets a shrug.

“I take care of my things” is all Peter says. The flippancy (and the words themselves) are insulting, but Tony doesn’t feel as stung as he should.

His reflection looks no younger (he wonders when that will change), but he feels it.

His morning walk becomes a run; a few miles a day. He breathes the salty-clean tang of the ocean air, his feet sinking into sand still wet from the tide.

There’s a cluster of boulders a little ways down the beach, tide pools between them. When he discovers them, he comes back so he and Peter can walk down to look at all the small things living in them. Small creatures in their own hidden corner of the world.

***

{1990}

“Shh, someone might hear you…”

Peter says it every time they do this, teases like this. It’s (it has to be) a lie. This is their place, this clearing, so far from everyone that Tony can only hear the quiet sounds of the forest around them.

Tony barely manages to repress the whine building in his throat, caught behind his teeth. He can do it, be quiet; he can do what Peter says. He wants to.

But he can listen and still glare half-heartedly, beg with his eyes–

(because his hands are clasped over his head, and Tony is good; he’s good, and he’s going to keep them there, no matter how touchable Peter looks in the moonlight, pale and slender and otherworldly–)

–and when his glare only earns him a wicked, promising smile, the things in Tony’s heart–in his mind–that are supposed to shy away, reach for it.

It’s wrong, it’s wrong that the hot squeeze of Peter’s body around the hardest part of Tony’s should be damning, when it feels so perfect, so natural, so…divine.

He flushes at the thought.

The moonlight leeches color from the clearing, turns everything around them inky black and silver, but when Peter’s smile turns somehow sharper and softer all at once, Tony is sure the other boy can tell.

***

{2020}

It’s been months, and there’s still grey in Tony’s hair. Tony knows it’s because Peter likes how it looks, the same way Peter likes the calluses and scars, the crow’s feet.

“The marks of time look delicious on you,” Peter tells him (murmurs in his ear at the produce section at the little grocery store in town). Tony hasn’t blushed so hard in public (at all) since the last time he knew Peter.

Public is almost unfamiliar, now; Tony’s days are so swallowed (sometimes literally…frequently literally) by Peter, that it’s difficult to remember that there are things outside of their tiny corner of the world.

But they’ve been here long enough that when they do venture out, eyes follow them with that curiously affectionate judgement singular to small towns; everyone might make assumptions, might wonder, but you’re still one of them.

Tony thinks maybe the people of this tiny town find some measure of peace in seeing their place of worship–even unused as such–clearly cared for. He knows he does. It’s the closest he ever gets, anymore, to missing the clergy. But no one ever approaches them, or the church itself–no visitors or solicitors find their way down the long dirt road.

No one pries into his and Peter’s life; it’s less about manners and more about the thrill of guesswork and gossip. The people here are kind and close-knit and bored, and Tony finds his and Peter’s relationship with them weirdly symbiotic:

The people spread warm, juicy gossip among themselves–

(Peter’s favorite rumor is about the “eccentric, enigmatic ‘billionaire’ and his ‘kept boy’”; he likes to exacerbate that one frequently; plasters himself along Tony’s back or front in brief moments, whispers in his ear, teases and pouts and asks for treats. He does it all quietly enough to feel intimate, and just obviously enough to draw attention.

Coming from someone–something–like Peter, it’s…well, it’s the kind of show that means Tony catches a lot of quickly diverted gazes, flushed cheeks and parted lips.)

–and he and Peter are essentially left alone to be the spectacle of Them, in a way they hadn’t been able to before.

Tony likes knowing he can kiss his lover in front of the seasonal fruit display and no one in this place would make him feel hunted…

…only watched.

And he’s okay with being watched, okay with being a part of the show. It reminds him of giving a particularly successful sermon; that swell of warmth, of energy.

He calls it ‘connection’.

Peter disagrees.

“It’s power, Father,” he says, playfully mocking, when they’ve returned home.

Tony just fucks up into him harder than before, watches the shark-like smirk break in a moan.

He knows Peter’s right; there’s power in the attention, in being the orchestrator of rituals. But Tony’s right, too.

He rarely feels more connected to Peter than when he pulls out and Peter lowers to his knees to receive communion.

***

{1990}

Black. Lightless depth where there had just been honey-gold warmth.

“Peter…what…” Tony manages. He reaches out, fingers trembling as he carefully touches the fine skin beneath Peter’s eye. It feels the same, soft and warm and real over the curve of his lover’s cheekbone, a familiar path traveled.

He’d known. He’d known and he’d looked the other way–no, he’d looked straight at it, into it, wanted it–but seeing is…honest. Terrifying.

“No,” Tony breathes, “please, no–”

“Yes,” Peter says, and it’s almost–it’s regretful, but amused and sympathetic in a way that makes Tony feel small and sick.

He would give anything, in this moment, to go back–to keep arguing with his boyfriend about something as…as comparatively mundane as coming out to Howard, as simple as leaving the congregation. He’d take hours of frustration, he’d take tears. He’d take Peter turning and leaving him there alone between the pews.

He’d take anything to go back before flat darkness had overtaken the honey of his boyfriend’s eyes, when Tony could still pretend he didn’t know. That he wasn’t in love with–didn’t desire–

It was…is this his punishment? Is this what he’s always been bound for? For being–for loving who he does, the way he does–?

“Not that,” Peter says, suddenly. His fingers wrap Tony’s wrist, squeeze. “Never that.”

The words are firm and incongruously reassuring, and Tony wants so badly to believe them.

How is he supposed to? How is he supposed to remember anything Peter has ever said–any comfort, any praise, anything at all–without wondering how much was used to twist him, turn him?

He yanks his hand out of Peter’s grasp, cradles it to his chest. He can’t–there isn’t a way to handle this, there isn’t a way to–he can’t–

“Get out,” he spits. It comes out weak, shaking…but he still sees it land, sees Peter flinch. “This is…” Tony starts, swallows, stands a little straighter, “this is a house of God, and you’re not welcome.”

Even as he’s saying it, he knows it sounds painfully

The flicker of hurt is gone so fast from Peter’s expression Tony can pretend it wasn’t there.

“Faith really only extends so far,” Peter says, smirking.

There’s ridicule there, such a sharp departure from minutes before, from the moment right before Peter had revealed…this–himself.

Tony tries to breathe. “I said–”

“Don’t you love me?”

Oh, it burns. More than fury, more than flame.

More than anything, Tony thinks.

“No,” he lies.

Peter stares at him for another long moment, gaze unreadable…until the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“Liar.”

And he vanishes. Gone. Gone, along with whatever he’d managed to carve from everything that Tony is.

Tony sinks to his knees on the rug, buries his hands in his hair. Drops them to the floor to touch the space where Peter had just been standing.

He tries to pray, tries to think, tries to do something, anything–but all he can see is Peter’s face.

***

{2020}

Sixth month, sixth day, sixth hour.

Tony calls Peter a cliche, and Peter gives him that flat look he gets sometimes when he’s not sure what to do with Tony’s teasing. It appears more often, now, that look; it didn’t when they were younger, in the first incarnation of Them. Peter would simply fire something back; playfully cutting, but never mean.

Now, Tony pokes the beast fully aware of what–of who–he’s teasing. He watches that wonder flit across Peter’s features, and feels a warm, appreciative sort of sympathy for something so old and powerful that can feel such doubt, that can be surprised by something so comparatively small.

Is it really so strange for Tony to have accepted him? To have accepted this as his ending?

Everything is painted in silver and shadow, the tide inky black where it laps at the shore. Tony watches it, the gentle drag back and forth over the wet, packed sand, and the glittery flecks of moonlight capping the small, rippling waves.

“I gave up everything,” he says.

The dune grass behind them moves with the low breeze, blades rattling in whispers. Peter doesn’t say anything.

Tony doesn’t need him to.

“I traded everything I had, everything I knew and fought for and thought I’d loved, and I traded it all for you. Even before you came back for me.” Tony smiles, small. “I never closed my doors to you. I couldn’t. I…didn’t know how.”

“Tony…”

There’s something unfamiliar, tight, in Peter’s voice. Concerned. It brings a wavering, liquid edge to Tony’s vision to match the tightening of his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Tony continues, softly; he knows Peter will hear him over the susurrus of the waves, the grass. “I’ve already said it before, but I am. I’m sorry I lied and tried to cast you out. That I tried many more times, in many more ways.”

Turning, he finally looks to the being to whom he belongs.

“I gave up everything, and you gave me so much more. You gave me life.” His smile trembles, now, and he can’t stop it, tears rolling down his cheeks freely (because he can feel, he can be whatever it is that he is, can leave knowing he was). “It only seems fair to return it to you.”

He holds out his hand, because it’s what he has to do, and he’s going to do it the way he wants to. He’s going to step into the waves with Peter’s hand in his and he’s going to fade with Peter’s arms around him, he’s going to trade his ‘known’ for the mystery of what comes next, and he’s going to do it with the certainty and peace he’s been given–

“No.”

Tony falters, hand extended between them. He swallows the sting. “You don’t have to test me, I–”

“I’m not testing you,” Peter says, that unfamiliar tension in his voice, that worry. “I’m telling you ‘no’.”

The waves crash, the grass whips a little louder. Peter’s eyes are pitch dark, his jaw set, and he’s no taller, no different on the outside, but Tony can feel him–can feel the size of him, the enormity of something borne of a place not bound by the laws of nature, the prickling electric wrong that tunnels under Tony’s skin and lights him from the inside, draws him close and pulls him apart without ever rending flesh from bone.

“You,” Peter says–growls, “are mine.”

Everything stops. The grass ceases its motion. The waves fall flat.

Tony’s heartbeat pounds in his ears, and each breath rushes hollow, trembling with the remnants of his tears.

Peter is…afraid.

A laugh pushes out from Tony’s chest, a wet, rasping thing.

“I know,” he says.

He crosses the sand, slipping into the gentleness he’d learned in front of a congregation, but so much more genuine as he comes to a stop before his world, his heart. “I am. We’re here because I am. I’m…going, because I am. I’m repaying you for an incomparable gift.”

He brings up a hand, brushes the backs of his fingers along Peter’s jaw.

“I made a deal, didn’t I?”

Peter reaches up and gently twines their fingers together, presses a long kiss to Tony’s knuckles, closes his eyes. Tony watches him take a breath, deep and fortifying.

The ocean laps softly beside them, the grass begins murmuring.

After a moment, Peter opens his eyes, dark and sure.

“There are other ways.”

***

{2019}

The last of his flock leaves, and the door closes heavy and soft.

He hasn’t told them, yet. Can’t. Isn’t sure he can muster the words of comfort, the reassurances of a plan he’s doubted for far too long. There’s guilt, fear; sadness. Anger. He can’t parse through it all, isn’t sure he ever will, and he’s not sure he should.

He doesn’t bother cleaning or preparing for the next day. There is something else he needs to do.

Howard never did find the clearing. When his father did find them, he and Peter, it had been on the steps of Tony’s family home.

A disgrace, an abomination; a shadow at a doorstep already shadowed by simpler, human frailty (a pastor with a temper has a quiet home flock). He had bent to the force of his father, told Peter to go home. And Peter had left, hurt in his expression, something like betrayal.

Tony remembers how hard it had been to forget that look, even in the months following the night between the pews, when he was still afraid, still lost and subsisting on the kind of faith that springs in the well of adamant denial of truths too large to handle. He remembers his own resentment–

You said you would follow me, always, and you disappeared. You wouldn’t follow me into the nothingness of us, into the emptiness of this–you left me to my own wounds–

It seems…petty, now. Everything does.

Howard’s reign of pious terror, a fleck–less than–of what Tony has seen, what Tony has touched. His father died a respected man of the cloth, and his mother and her undisturbed silence on the matters of home went with him. Violence begets violence, and Tony still sometimes wonders how violent a place his parents rest, being who they were and going as they did in the brutal, senseless twist of metal and glass.

He stands in the clearing, a place still untouched, though the world continues to creep in towards its edges, and he wonders what waits for him. What will eat him away when the guilt and resentment have lost their remaining teeth, when the the unstoppable, hungry, thoughtless thing spreading through his brain swallows him whole and steals his breath.

The moonlight paints the world in dark, ethereal shades, and he hopes that maybe Peter will be the thing devouring.

Tears well, and he tilts his head back, shuts his eyes and imagines he can feel the silver on his skin.

“If I’m going, let me go with you,” Tony whispers, drops slipping free and rolling down his cheeks, breath quickening, heart rising to his throat.

“Whatever you want,” he promises to the empty air, to the moonlight, to the stars, to the shadows between the trees, words trembling, “you can have it, if you take me, too.”

He opens his eyes, stares up at the wobbling streaks of the cosmos, bits of light quivering in the tears that won’t stop coming, and all he can think of is pitch blackness, emptiness that should feel cold but only reminds him of fire and life and want and love–

“Shh…” a voice whispers back. “Someone might hear you.”

*** *** ***

{2020–}

There are other ways.

The way they’d chosen was a blade, and a chalice, and Peter’s blood. It was a candlelight vigil to all the things they’d given up for each other, and it was their joining in the ring of flickering flames, spread before the audience of the altar and the tall driftwood cross.

(Tony had lain beside him after, buzzing and flying and unable to stop touching, stop feeling, and still managed to poke fun at the the five-pointed star beneath their bodies…and Peter had let slip a soft laugh, had grinned and rolled over and pushed Tony’s legs apart, reminded him again of the power of certain kinds of worship)

It was another deal, an eternal kind of promise. Maybe one too large for Tony to understand, but one he’d made nonetheless, with as little fear as he’d felt for walking into the sea.

Fear does not chew at his thoughts. Disease does not consume him.

Every night, but especially on moonlit nights, when everything is silver and shadows, he and Peter share twin, pitch-dark gazes…

…and they devour each other.

{Always}

***

The world does not encroach on the tiny town by the sea. It does not stretch fingers along the winding dirt path to the steps of the once-abandoned church.

The people in the town worship with whispers, watch with flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Because their gods sometimes see fit to walk among them, and their gods are beautiful.

fin

***************************************************

Everything Tag List:

@the-amazing-spidertwink, @silkystark, @starkercrossedlovers, @hoeforthegays, @starkeroverlord, @problematic-sofatini, @starker-reader, @mrstark-please, @youknowwhoiamx, @aoifelaufeyson, @fastenyourseats, @starkerhowlter, @smidnite, @starkeristheendgame

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #tw: blasphemy #tw: blood #demon!Peter #priest!Tony #tw: religion #tw: homophobia #tw: internalized homophobia #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #bamf peter parker #bamf!peter #nff #starkerflowers fic #Tw: suicide mention

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lunade1995-blog · 5 years ago

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what do i like? i don’t know. i mean, maybe i do know, but it’s hard for me to think about what i really like? i don’t remember the last time i did something that i liked, except for listening to music everyday.

ever since i ~discovered kpop~ there isn’t anything that i truly enjoy anymore, it’s like my life now goes around my kpop boys and girls, their music, their albums and their selfies. that’s kinda sad, if not extremely sad lol.

i haven’t achieved anything big related to my career or studies. when i was 18 i started studying a career i hated, i spent like 4 years around people i didn’t like, and who didn’t like me either, and around a career that made me feel more dead than i already felt. then i changed paths in the middle of my meltdown, i wasn’t being treated for my depression, i want through a lot of shit, some of which my closest friends and relatives don’t know about. so i started another career and i don’t know how i feel about it. i mean, i don’t hate it, but i surely don’t love it either. and this takes me back to the first question: what do i like? i don’t know.

so, i only enjoy listening to music, mostly kpop. and that’s all i really do, like that’s my routine and i’m fucking sick of it. i want to find something that makes me feel alive but i’m so lost, i have no idea what my path is, or what it’s supposed to be. what am i supposed to be doing? help cause i have no clue.

i don’t know, i hope i don’t spend the next 5 years trying to find out what i like. maybe i should start by writing what i don’t like? let’s see...

i don’t like going out that much. well, i don’t like going out to bars or parties, but i do like being some place quiet, with few people, nice and warm. not too warm that i start sweating, and not too cold that i need to be inside. some place where i can wear shorts, sneakers and a light jacket, that’d be cool. maybe a beach or some place like that. i like nature, but the kind of nature that doesn’t bother me with bugs and doesn’t put my life at risk like the sea lol. the sea scares me. ok so i realized i like going out, not everywhere, but who likes being everywhere?

since i’m talking about the weather (kinda), i don’t like summer because i hate being hot, sweating, wearing summer clothes, the heat, the beach and the sand. i don’t like anything related to summer, except for ice cream. also, where i’m from, it’s very common to basically live at the beach during summer. everyone loves going to the beach the whole day, and i can’t put into words how much i hate that idea. and that kind of people are the ones who ask why you’re so pale and why you don’t like the beach. bitch leave me alone.

i like rainy days but only when i don’t have to go out because now that i’m an adult i have to go places by bus and buses plus rain are one of the worst combos ever. it disgusts me so much. i love rain and cozy days when i’m at home, but i also don’t really like my home that much. i like to be alone, or with my mom and my pets, and that doesn’t happen very often. also, most of the year i’m attending uni in another city so i live with my brother in an apartment, which i won’t talk about because nothing depresses me more than that situation.

i would love rainy and cozy days if i lived in a little apartment by myself.

regarding hobbies, i don’t like sports, i don’t like math or science. i used to love reading but now i can’t seem to find the peace of mind i need to concentrate on reading a book. i have started many books but i haven’t finished even one of them, and this makes me so sad because i used to spend the whole day reading, until it was so late i’d be too tired to keep my eyes open. i miss those days, and i can’t make them come back, i just can’t spend an hour reading anything anymore.

what i like. i used to play the piano, but i had a terrible teacher who would scream at me every time i made a mistake, and as a shy and weak kid, that made me drop out of my lessons. i played the piano for a year only, but i remember enjoying a lot, i spent my evenings practicing. also i used to go to painting classes, i went for a few years but i don’t remember why i quit. it’s sad that my parents didn’t talk to me about quitting the things i liked, because now my life would be much different i’m sure, i used to love art and i still do, but i ended up quitting everything. i don’t blame my parents though.

anyways, a few months ago i started painting again and i love that. painting and drawing and art in general makes me super happy. wow look at that i arrived to a conclusion, i love art, but does art get you somewhere?

i know that if i changed my career for a third time, my parents would support me but it’d mean that i wasted like three years of my life again, and i can’t afford that. i feel like i’d disappoint them, but shouldn’t my life be about me? shouldn’t i focus on what i truly like?

but again, i’m not sure of what i like. maybe i start studying something related to art and i end up not liking it.

why do i have to be so complicated? i lowkey hate myself. NO. no. i don’t hate myself, sorry namjoon, i LOVE myself, yes i do, with all my problems and stuff. well, i made it this far right? maybe i just have to keep going and struggling and surviving, but it’d be nice to instead of just surviving i’d start living. let’s see where i get.

#diary

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incredible-dad · 5 years ago

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What a man, what a man, what a man, what a mighty good man...

Archetype — The Hero Birthday — February 18, 1970 Zodiac Sign — Aquarius Sun, Aquarius Rising, Cancer Moon MBTI — ESTP Enneagram — type 2: the Helper Temperament — Choleric Hogwarts House — Ravendor Moral Alignment — Lawful Good Primary Vice — Greed Primary Virtue — Charity Element — Earth

Overview:

Mother — Sarah Parr (nee Johnson) (adopted); Jennifer Peterson (birth) Father — Theodore Parr (adopted); Unknown (birth) Mother’s Occupation — primary schoolteacher Father’s Occupation — pastor Family Finances — comfortably middle class Birth Order — eldest Brothers — William Parr (younger, adoptive, blood child of Sarah and Teddy) Sisters — none. Other Close Family — Helen, Violet, Dash, Jack-Jack; i guess that Helen’s parents are his in-laws but he’s not really close to them because Helen is estranged. Best Friend — Frozone Other Friends — other Supers (mostly deceased) Enemies — The American Government lmao Pets — none, their house is way too hectic, but he grew up on a farm so they had animals there Home Life During Childhood — rosy and idyllic for the most part, his parents were wonderfully accepting of his gifts and even though other people in town kind of shunned him a bit, he won them over for the most part eventually. plus, no one really fucked with him because he could toss you into a building. not that he WOULD but im js he could. He also grew up quite religious as the son of a southern presbaterian pastor. Town or City Name(s) — Smallville, Kansas; New York City, New York; Astoria, Oregon; Riverside, Iowa; What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — shared with his brother in their little farm house, he wasn’t ever big on decoration or anything, so just whatever his mom decorated it with. Any Sports or Clubs — no, not officially, he liked to play recreationally, but he wasn’t allowed on any teams because of his powers. Favorite Toy or Game — loves monopoly, he’s that person that’s really into it and has a whole strategy and everything. He’ll get like MAJORLY competitive and no one really wants to play with him because he takes it really seriously lmao Schooling — his mom was his preschool teacher, and he went to regular rural public school with the same like group of 50 kids up through graduating HS. He got a BA in criminal justice from NYU on a Magick scholarship. Favorite Subject — not really any tbh, not a very studious person, but if he had to choose one he’d probably say science because he finds it interesting. Popular or Loner — he was a loner when his powers first started developing, but by high school he’d practiced really diligently at getting them under control and so he became quite popular after that because he’s very jovial and has a warm personality. Important Experiences or Events — getting adopted, though he doesn’t remember it lol; finding out he had powers; the birth of his brother; getting into NYU; meeting Helen; marrying Helen; joining the NSA; the NSA falling; the birth of Jack-Jack; adopting Violet and Dash Nationality — American Culture — Southern Religion and beliefs — Southern Presbyterian

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim — David Harbour Complexion — idk white? lmao not super pale, not super dark, no freckles or anything Hair Colour — dirty blond Eye Colour — blue Height — 6’3 Build — stocky and strong Tattoos — none though he always jokes about getting Helen’s name in a heart on his arm Piercings — probably had his ears pierced at one point when he was trying to be #edgy at NYU Common Hairstyle — he’s balding lol Clothing Style — he dresses like a straight white man whose mother dressed him until he went to college and now his wife dresses him Mannerisms — rubs his forehead when he’s frustrated, puts his hands on his hips, crosses his arms, fidgets, sighs when he’s annoyed at you but doesn’t want to say it outright Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — has a very resilent immune system Physical Ailments — none Neurological Conditions — depression Allergies — none Grooming Habits — he wears cologne and shaves and showers, don’t expect much more than that Sleeping Habits — up at the crack of dawn, but not by choice. Grew up on a farm, so it’s just ingrained in him. Can sometimes go back to sleep until like nine, but rarely sleeps in. Is the dad that falls asleep in the recliner watching TV but wakes up if you try to change the channel. Snores. Has to drink a lot of coffee on night shifts. Apparently I have a lot of hcs about Bob’s sleeping habits. Eating Habits — will eat anything, anytime, but Helen’s cooking is his favorite (besides his mom’s) Exercise Habits — eh he’ll go to the gym to keep up pretenses but he has to be really careful, lol. Though, if he doesn’t exercise his strength, it can easily get too amped up, so catch him in the forest chucking trees across the meadows. Emotional Stability — 6; he’d score higher but he has a pretty easily triggered temper. He is easily riled up about things and very passionate, but for the most part he’s pretty jovial and easy to get along with. Body Temperature — runs a little warm Sociability — very friendly, very extroverted, perhaps too friendly, perhaps too extroverted Addictions — processed sugar Drug Use — none, probably smoked weed in college or something Alcohol Use — not much, will have a few beers with dinner occasionally, but tends not to drink due to his high metabolism it makes it kind of pointless except for the taste and maybe a small buzz if he drinks enough; in college it was a game to see how much it’d take to get him drunk.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — not following the rules, being controlling, reacting to situations without thinking Good Habits — loyal, a good communicator when he’s not antsy about things, emotional Best Characteristic — kindhearted Worst Characteristic — obsessive Worst Memory — all the people he’s lost Best Memory — when Jack-Jack was born, when he got married, when he adopted his kids Proud of — his wife, his kids Embarrassed by — his own ineptitude in relating to his kids Driving Style — normal really, not a speed demon or anything; tho he used to be as young person Strong Points — intelligence, friendliness, loyalty Attitude — he’s kind of pessimistic tbh, kind of depressed so he’s always just like *deep sigh Weakness — his brashness Fears — something happening to his family Phobias — lowkey fear of heights Secrets — that he knew about the experiments on the kiddos Regrets — not turning on the NSA faster Feels Vulnerable When — people are pointing out things he has done wrong Pet Peeves — people not listening to him, talking over him, telling him what to do lol Conflicts — his brashness v wanting to take things slow Motivation — to help Short Term Goals and Hopes — none really? Long Term Goals and Hopes — be a good parent, a good husband, and help people Sexuality — straight Day or Night Person — day person, he grew up on a farm Introvert or Extrovert — extrovert Optimist or Pessimist — pessimist Intelligence — high

Likes and Styles:

Music — dad rock Books — not a biiiig reader, but he does like some history stuff/biographies Magazines — none really Foods — will eat anything but pineapple, but prefers a home cooked meal to eating out Drinks — no preference, will occasionally have a beer w dinner or smth Animals — also no real preference lol Sports — a football fan, will probs get into soccer too, into track bc of dash Social Issues — magick rights, but he’s also Tired Favorite Saying — eh none really Color — Helen’s eyes Clothing — just a regular 50 year old straight man, Helen builds his wardrobe Jewelry — his wedding ring ofc Games — none really, but he’ll get really into playing his kids’ video games with them Websites — none?? Is on the facebook, yes he calls it “the facebook” TV Shows — mindhunters, criminal minds, anything cop related lmao probably like watched game of thrones with helen and other classic tv shows like that Movies — likes comedies best Greatest Want — to protect his family Greatest Need — to let go of the past and heal

#character sheet #inspiration #about #meet bobby!!#i love him

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