#been sick so ive been playing this one for two whole days

[kinokochouchou]

infinity nikki is so pretty

[ecowgirl]

.

[throwawayhero]

could you give more hcs or a drabble about bakugou with a crush on reader!! pls i feel like ur fics are the closest ive seen to canon... i need more

No problem, and thanks! I try to make them seem canon, but sometimes it's difficult T-T. Just realising now that a few of these sound stalker-y and I'm sorta regretting writing this but oh well. I hope this is satisfactory!! c/w; social media au, buzzfeed, eminem (idek), karaoke, not proof read

!Katsuki who unintentionally catches himself playing with his hair while talking to you. Not in an obvious way (that's what he thinks at least), but more so absentmindedly fiddling with his side burns and such. It's kinda funny when he accidentally curls them and leaves them like that for a while. He also has a habit of playing with his baby hairs on the back of his neck.

!Katsuki who "accidentally" managed to copy your handwriting style down stroke for stroke? He doesn't really know how it happened, to be honest. He just noticed it one day during a group project after Jirou pointed it out to the two of you. You found it funny, but he found it outrageous and claimed that you had been the one to copy his handwriting.

!Katsuki who allowed you to tag along on one of Kirishima's and his study sessions. He beat the shit out of Eijirou and was gentle with you, more or less. He wouldn't hit you of course, but he certainly wasn't scared to yell. At least the first time. The look you gave him made him writhe with guilt, so he shut the fuck up out of embarrassment.

!Katsuki who heard you talking about a band you loved and decided it was his god given right to go through their whole discography and criticise it in his own time. But turns out, you have good taste, so he keeps to himself about it. "Accidentally" bought a spare ticket to their next concert and offered the spot to you. No big deal, right?

!Katsuki who did extensive searching for your socials, scrolling through his friends friends following, mutuals, and genuinely just word of mouth. When he did find your accounts, he stalked the SHIT out of them. When you requested to follow him, he freaked out and accepted straight away. He didn't follow you back until a week later, "just to be safe".

!Katsuki who unironically took one of those "Do I have a crush on my friend?" quizzes when he started to feel things towards you. 100% went down a rabbit hole on buzzfeed. He wanted to call his "crush" ANYTHING other than what it was. Mentioned it to Kirishima once and was left even ore confused than what he had originally been.

Unrelated but he just looks like he would listen to Eminem. Probably gets a good chuckle out of the whole "You gonna cancel me, yeah? Gen Z me brah?!" thing. Don't ask me to explain why I think this, it just makes sense.

!Katsuki who more often than not is watching you out of the corner of his eye. Not in an overly-creepy way, he's just "aware of his surroundings". He says that to anyone that mentions it, which is literally just his paranoia.

!Katsuki who secretly loved the fact that you hung out with him and his friends almost daily. Because then he wouldn't have to initiate hangouts and look as desperate as he really was. It gave him a plausible excuse to absorb every single opinion you uttered. It gave him an excuse to get even closer to you.

!Katsuki who freaked the FUCK out when everyone (besides the two of you) got sick and couldn't do the bi-weekly hangout everyone had played a part in organising. The group had settled on doing karaoke, so you can imagine how it went down with just the two of you there. Although, the two of you did make an amazing duet. (No one was really sick, Mina just mentioned Katsuki's behaviour and put 2 and 2 together. She also wanted to see if he would take initiative for once.)

!Katsuki who went out of his way to make changes to his hero costume that he knew you would like. Small details here and there, for both style and practicality. While it was cold he would use the neck warmer to hide the smirk that creeped onto his face when he saw you checking out his new look. He also started to make himself look nicer in general, indulging in a bit of jewellery (stud earrings, a ring or two, and a silver necklace), nicer shoes, wearing the uniform properly and such.

!Katsuki who has your number pinned in his contacts, as well as giving you your own message & ring tone sound. He has everyone but you, Kirishima, and his parents on silenced. He also has your contact saved as a nickname he assigned you without you knowing with a heart emoji. It's simple, but endearing.

[ghoulphile]

“I don't want to take it.” You were being stubborn. Your arms were crossed over your chest and your head snapping to the side away from the cowboy crouched in front of you, gloved fingers pinching a small pill. You had been having this back and forth for a good ten minutes as it was. You two had agreed you would start taking RadX before either of you got together, after learning that your last ‘flu’ was actually radiation poisoning. A pack of RadAway was not easy to come around in these parts, and getting you to sit still enough to stick an IV in your arm was hell. He had to tie you down to keep you from squirming. He would not do that again. “It tastes awful.” 

Cop sighed, glancing at the pill then back at you, his head cocked to the side and the quick clack of his teeth an indication that his patience was wearing thin. “C'mon, sweetheart. You eat this…” He gave the hand a little shake, trying to prove the pill was harmless, “and I promise to give you something that tastes a whole lot better.” He tried to butter you up, play good cop one last time. He watched the way you shook your head, making a squeak in the back of your throat to punctuate your disapproval. He narrowed his eyes, about to hold you down if he had to. It had been a few days since you were safe enough to fuck, and you delaying the only time was really starting to irritate him. “Or I fuck you and leave you to get sick. I won't help you again.” 

You still protest, your face wrinkling up in disgust at the very thought of having to take another one. “I'd rather get sick.” You bite back, you knew you were getting on his nerves. That was the point after all. It didn't shock you when he grabbed you by the jaw with his free hand, shifting his fingers under the hinge and forcing your mouth open. You squeaked at the action, flush crossing your face. He dropped onto his knees and caged you in against the wall you were leaning against. 

“Just open wide, sweetheart. You know how to do that, don’t ya?” He tried to keep his voice calm as he slipped the pill between your slightly parted teeth and covered your mouth with his hand. You didn't fight back much, only pushing his shoulder half-heartedly. After all, you could fill his dick getting hard through his trousers, and it was turning you on to be handled like this. You swallow dutifully, wide, glassy eyes meeting his. You could only tease so much before you rolled over for him, too eager to please him.

"That's my good girl. See? Wasn't too hard was it?” He leaned back away to squat in front of you again, going your cheek a few pats for taking what he gives you. 

“C'mon, sweetheart. You eat this…” He gave the hand a little shake, trying to prove the pill was harmless, “and I promise to give you something that tastes a whole lot better.” & “Just open wide, sweetheart. You know how to do that, don’t ya?” & "That's my good girl. See? Wasn't too hard was it?” (SOMETHING SURE IS) --- LIKE HELLO THAT IS ILLEGAL TO SAY AHHJSXHJKS 😳😮‍💨

I have been blessed this day!!

but now i want to choke on his d--------

[charlottecutepie]

☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

author note: Ive been thinking for a very long time whether I should publish this fic here. this is my fav fic I wrote for fnaf, I especially like the way I portrayed William here. so please, if any of you would like to see this story here, can you leave a comment? It’ll help me to understand. I’m just unsure if I should post this fic here :’’)

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 2.

Chapter 1. Thoughts

Chilly spring night. Light wind and rain. It's so fresh outside that the opposite effect appears: you feel as if you are suffocating from excess air. Outside is your favourite smell of wet grass after the rain. Light smile appears on your lips, and you carelessly go out on the porch of your house, looking at the beautiful view in front of you.

At such moments, everything around seems to be a part of you, you feel some kind of connection with nature and this world. Peace, tranquility, two things what you lack in life.

Today was a bad day. Maybe tomorrow will be better? Tomorrow will be the same. And when will it be better? Does this hell have an end?

Your head is filled with bad thoughts. It feels like every day is getting a little worse than the previous one. You never understood why you deserved such treatment from your father. It was as if he was doing everything so that you wouldn't feel like his daughter. He never even called you that. Something bad happened in your family every day, mom and dad always argued, and you always ran into your room in a state of panic, anxiety. What if father does something to her? That's what happened a few years ago. When you called your aunt in tears, begging her to come, because your father broke your mom's leg and beat her to a concussion. You could have been next if your aunt hadn't arrived on time. That evening, the picture of father changed dramatically in your little child's head.

“Father” means something cold, something cruel. The one who can punch, beat, shout, scream. Abuse.

You live with this thought to this day, but the only thing that has changed is that now there is no father anymore. He died a month ago, which was a shock to your whole little family. You hardly remember what happened exactly on the day of his death, but you clearly memorised your mother who cried all night because she knew well that the only one who could work to feed the family was her husband.

And now, because of this husband she cannot find a well-paid job, because he took care to provide her with a serious disability. And you're too young to work, first you must finish school and university.

Your skin was covered with goosebumps, you went back into the house. Passing by mom's room, you made sure that she was asleep and went to your own one.

Tomorrow is another day.

…

June 22.

“Y/n, breakfast is ready.” you heard mom's voice from the kitchen. Telling her you'd be coming soon, you headed to the bathroom to comb your hair and wash your face.

On the dining table you saw a plate with your favorite breakfast. Pancakes with honey, it couldn't not make you happy. You smiled and sat down opposite your mom. Woman was in a joyful mood.

“Good morning, dear, how did you sleep?” she asked gently, examining your face expression. That's how your conversation started, about everything and nothing at once. She told something about her plans for today, for a week, about her friends, about how one of them gave birth again. You just enjoyed her monologue, sometimes nodding and shaking your head. It was nice for you to see a sparkle in mom's eyes, it was something strange and unique for you, but warming soul. “I absolutely forgot that soon is your birthday!”

“Oh, really? If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have remembered…” you answered in confusion, fidgeting in your chair and twitching your leg. For some reason, the mention of your birthday made you uncomfortable. Probably because it will be your first birthday without your father. After all, when he was alive, you never really celebrated it. The maximum that was — sweets that your mother gave you in secret from him. You wonder what will happen this time?

“How are we going to celebrate?” Mom asked, smile on her face.

You looked at the floor, nervously fiddling with your shorts. You scratched your head, trying to think of something, but no idea came to mind. Your thoughts are empty again.

“It's your 18th birthday… We need to celebrate it well somehow.” for a second she paused, before looking at you with cheerful face. “Oh… Mr. Afton!”

Your eyes widened in surprise, because after the funeral, your family stopped communicating with Afton family.

“Mom, what are you up to?” you frowned. To be honest, you always got shivers running down your spine from his name, because your last meeting was at that cemetery, on the day of your father's funeral. Memories have entered your mind, forcing you to remember your last dialogue with Mr. Afton.

After the burial itself happened, you ran away from the crowd away. Your heart was racing like crazy, trying to jump out of your chest. You sat down on a wet bench, covering your face in hysterics. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping onto a puddle under the bench.

“Young lady,” a low-pitched male voice called you out of hysteria. “Everything is okay? You've been sitting here for hour.”

You opened your eyes and raised your head. Next to you was standing was a tall, middle-aged man with dark brown hair, dressed in black trousers and a jacket. He leaned towards you, holding an umbrella over your head. His face seemed painfully familiar, but because of the hysteria, you couldn't remember who it was.

“Oh god, Y/n? I didn't recognize you, little one. Why are you sitting here all alone?” he smiled broadly as he sat down next to you on the bench, still holding the umbrella for you. “Your mom is looking for you, she's so worried. Her beloved girl is lost.”

You recognised this man. It was none other than William Afton. One of your father's friends, he often came to visit you, and your family also visited him. You were embarrassed by ignoring his questions because you didn't know what to respond. He's been staring at your face the whole time.

“Come on, princess, I see how cold you are.” with these words, he took off his jacket, putting it on your shoulders. “I understand how hard it is for you, honey.”

You haven't received so many nicknames from any men for all your 17 years of life. Never, not once. His voice at some point began to seem more comfortable and soothing. Because of all the surging emotions, you burst into tears again in front of him, no longer hiding your face. William, not wasting a minute, threw umbrella and took you in his arms, so that your face was hidden in his chest. His cold hands stroked your hair, soothing you, calming you. It may have looked strange from out of context, but you really needed support in such hard moment.

“Don't cry, Y/n. You'll be fine, little one.” he talked and talked endlessly, but because of your own tears and sobs, you ignored everything, only burying your nose in his chest more.

“He's the owner of a pizzeria! Do you want to celebrate there? I'm sure he'll give us a discount in honor of such an event.” her smile never disappeared for a second. You were already beginning to doubt at how real her emotions were.

“Are you sure? We don't have much money anyway…”

“Never mind, I want you to finally have the best birthday, dear.” she winked and got up from the table, putting the plates and mugs in the sink.

Your lips curled at the thought of having to see William again.

[janesociety]

daddy issues

tony stark x teen!reader

type: hurt/comfort (?)

summary: you get really sick and call tony dad

warnings: reader is sick, placement of an iv, allusion to painful past events (nothing described)

notes: this is very old and kinda cringy <3

pt ii

masterlist

✩ ✩ ✩

It started as a cold. Steve went to wake you up one morning when you didn’t come down for training and found you blowing your nose next to your trashcan that was almost overflowing. He gave you the day off, and then the next day, and then the next.

By the third day, the whole compound was concerned. Bucky had convinced you to try and get up and eat breakfast and so you did. You were so weak that he had to try and help you out of your bed.

“It’s okay, doll,” he mumbled as you apologized profusely as he helped you stand. The two of you trudge slowly into the main living space, drawing the attention of the other Avengers who had been waiting for you.

"Didn't think you'd want anything too heavy, so I made toast," Steve said, setting a plate down at the table in front of you. You smiled weakly at him, sitting down.

Natasha watched from afar. She was always concerned about you. There was never a moment she wasn’t worried. So this, this had her frantic. Not that she was showing it though.

Forcing the toast down your throat was harder than you thought, but you did it anyway to appease those around you. They had bigger problems, and you having a small case of the flu was not on par with everything else.

“Mornin’,” Tony said, stepping into the kitchen with a cold coffee mug. He dumped it in the sink before turning to the running coffee maker. “How you feeling, kiddo?” Tony asked you, waiting for the machine to fill his cup.

You dryly pushed the last of the toast down your throat and smiled up at him. “Fine,” you answered, trying to keep the croak out of your voice.

“Take it easy,” he said, exiting the kitchen with his new mug.

Everyone walked on eggshells around you for the remainder of the day. Instead of staying cooped up in your room, you instead sat on the couch in the living room. Different people made attempts throughout the day to entertain you, but for the most part they let you rest as your favorite movies played in the background.

Later in the evening, you laid on the couch between Wanda and Bucky. Your head laid in Bucky’s lap as he stroked your hair with his good arm. Wanda sat by your feet, listening to the goofy sitcoms playing on the tv when you began to shift.

“Make it stop… make it go away,” you muttered in your sleep. Both Bucky’s and Wanda’s heads snapped towards you. “Make it stop!” you yelled louder this time.

Wanda immediately went into your mind, trying to fish for what you were scared of. It came up blank.

“We need to get her to Dr. Banner,” Wanda said, standing up off the couch.

“What’s-“

“Just get her to Banner!” Wanda yelled, her eyes flashing red with anger and fear. Bucky didn’t hesitate to scoop you up quickly in his arms.

Him and Wanda raced across the compound, bursting into the lab where Tony and Bruce sat working on new tech.

“Something’s wrong!” Wanda yelled. The two men looked up, worried expressions on their face. You were still in your fitful slumber in Bucky’s arms, still mumbling nonsense under your breath.

“Bring her over here,” Bruce said, jumping up and gesturing over to the infirmary section of the lab. He had Bucky lay you down on one of the beds as he started to check your vitals. “Her fever skyrocketed and her heart rate is rising.” Tony watching from the foot of the bed as you kicked out your legs and your arms wrapped around your stomach.

“Make it stop!” you yelled. You rolled in on yourself, tucking your knees to your chest and still holding your stomach. Wanda was getting visibly more upset as time went on. Her attempts to go in your head were still coming up blank.

“What’s wrong with her, Banner?” Tony said, agitated. He hated seeing you in pain and it made him feel totally helpless.

“Not sure yet, I’m gonna give her an IV and get her hydrated in hopes it helps her fever,” he said, prepping the machine. “Can you hold her still?” he asked Bucky. Bucky nodded, moving closer to you. He pried your arms away from your stomach and pushed your legs straight. He pinned one arm against your chest and the one closest to Bruce he pushed flat against the bed.

“No! Stop!” you shrieked. Your eyes flew open and bounced around wildly. You were taking anything in. Your brain wouldn’t process anything around you, so as far as you knew. you were still in your dream. “Stop! Stop it! Let me go!” You writhed under Bucky’s hold as he did his best to keep you still without hurting you.

“This won’t work,” Bruce said. “Wanda, can you hold her?” Wanda looked up at him with teary eyes. She hated the idea of using her powers on you. “Please, I need her still.” She nodded, raising her hands up. Red ribbons of her powers flowed across your limbs as they went stiff at your sides. You screamed again.

“No! No! Please, make it stop!” you sobbed. Your voice was beginning to go hoarse from screaming. Tony finally moved from where he was standing and went up next to you. He crouched down near your head.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, gently stroaking your hair. He could feel how warm your head was. “You’re okay, everything’s okay. No one is trying to hurt you.” His gentle words seemed to calm you down even in your confused state. Your eyes still stared blankly around you and your breathing was still ragged and strained, but your screaming stopped for a moment. “That’s good, there you go.”

You flinched as Bruce put the needle in your arm after finding a vain and started to cry out.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Tony whispered. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” Your head turned to the side, looking at Tony, but not really seeing him.

“Dad?” your voice croaked out quietly. Tony stiffened. He looked into your eyes, them seemingly looking straight through him. “Dad?” you called out again. Wanda and Bucky both watched Tony for his reaction.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re okay,” he said, rubbing a small circle on your shoulder. “Everything’s okay.”

“Her oxygen levels are low,” Bruce said. “I’m gonna put her on some.” Tony brushed all the hair out of your face to make it easier for Bruce to place the tube under your nose.

“Dad, what’s going on?” you muttered, moving your head around after Bruce placed it.

“It’s nothing, kiddo,” Tony said softly. He signaled for Wanda to released you, which she did. “You’re okay now.”

“They had me again,” you mumbled. Exhaustion was starting to over take you again. “They were hurting me.”

“They can’t hurt you anymore, I promise,” he said softly. “Just go back to sleep now.”

[tryingmybestpls]

I Know The End

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: She meets him. They fall in love. She dies, he mourns. The cycle continues.

Rating: R

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, mildly graphic descriptions of death, grief, mentions of injury

In every universe, she dies.

It was a canon event-completely unstoppable if they wanted the multiverse to stay together.

Every Spider-Person knew this. Every time they saw a version of her at HQ, they knew not to get too attached. She'd disappear and another version would take its place, looking slightly different from the previous version of her, but her nonetheless.

In every universe, she also fell in love with Miguel O'Hara.

It was a canon event and Miguel had to just let it happen, no matter how much it hurt him.

Every time she'd swing into his life, he had to let the cards fall where they may, even if he knew exactly where they led to.

In one universe, she had a baby who looked just like the two of them. She balanced being a mom and being Spider-Woman almost effortlessly. Miguel, once again, was able to play dad, was able to pretend like this could be his life. He would spend the night in her universe, sleeping with her in the bed, helping her with the midnight diaper changes and three a.m. feedings. Hell, he had even thought about marrying her, wanting so bad to ignore the canon, wanting to find a way that he can have his cake and eat it too.

She had gotten impaled on some rebar after saving a kid from Green Goblin and the others had got there too late to do anything about it. Peter B. Parker had watched as Miguel lifted her off of it, her blood staining his suit. He could hear as his friend whispered something to her over and over in Spanish. Peter had kept his distance, knowing that Miguel needed this moment. Her daughter-the one that had his hair and her eyes-went to live with her mother's family in California.

In another, she was a nurse. She helped save lives off and on the clock. She would tend to the other Spider-People's wounds, stitching them up when needed, giving IV's and injections and millions other things. They had spent so many nights together in his room post-mission where she’d take care of him. Her lip drawn between her teeth as she carefully focused on her work. As soon as she was done, as soon as she came out of that almost trance-like state, his lips would be on her skin, wanting to repay her. Medical supplies would be tossed to the floor, injuries ignored.

She had gotten taken out by her universe's Doc Ock. Miguel had personally hunted him down after that, unable to control his rage. Peter B. and Hobie had to drag him off of the guy.

In one, she had been married to someone else, but that hadn't stopped the relationship from forming. She'd slip away from her universe and into Miguel's, and in between helping take down anomalies, she'd be in his bed. She had been sick the whole time and every time she used her powers she had gotten worse. They could all see it-the gradual decline even if she wouldn’t tell them outright, but Miguel knew. He wouldn't let her do missions anymore, but she still continued to be Spider-Woman in her universe. She died in her sleep beside the man she was married to, but not the one she loved. Miguel had attended the funeral, but had kept his distance. He had waited and watched as she had been buried. He had been the last one to leave the cemetery that day.

There were versions of her that were artists, models, chefs, actresses, teachers, but they were all her. And they all fell in love with him, one after another. No one could stop it, no one could prevent it. It was just fate.

She meets him. They fall in love. He mourns. And then the cycle continues.

The Y/N they had right now, she has lasted longer than all of the others. She had been with them for a few years now, which has felt like a lifetime compared to the time they got with the rest of them. That had only made them all uneasy. Every mission, every missed visit to HQ, they all thought that was going to be it, but then she'd show up, a smile on her face and jokes spilling out of her mouth without a second thought . Miguel was constantly checking in on her, which was something she teased him about.

"I guess you really do like me, eh bug boy?"

God, he did.

It was terrifying how attached to her he was, how his whole demeanor seemed to change as soon as she enters a room. His stoicism and broodiness completely melts away, no instead he gives her a version of himself that no one else sees (save for maybe Mayday-she's a baby, so how could he be a dick to her?). At first, Jess and Peter B. used to tease him about it, but as Y/N died over and over, the teasing came to an end. Now all they could offer was sad smiles when Miguel talked about her.

He was selfish-he wished he could keep her at HQ forever. Miguel wanted to ignore the canon and just hold onto her as long as he could, keeping her all to himself. Who cares if the multiverse falls apart? He’d have her, he’d have a life with her. That’s all he needed, isn’t it?

But he’d never go against the canon.

-

"I know, you know. How this ends. That we are doomed to repeat this over and over." She announces one right, moonlight-or at least what she thinks is moonlight-streaming in through the gaps of his curtains, his room smelling like the two of them-a mixture of her perfume, his cologne, sweat, and sex. Her finger absentmindedly traces a mark she’d had left on his skin moments ago. He sits up in bed, looking at her with wide eyes. His mind was racing. Had someone told her? Had he somehow let it slip? How did she know?

"Y-You do? Mierda. Why didn't you say anything?" He questions, his brows furrowed together. She shrugs, tucking an arm behind her head as she looks at him, as if it wasn't a big deal that she knew about her own coming demise.

"What's the point, cariño? I die, I come back, this starts all over again. Why spoil the time I get with you?" She responds, her eyes focused on him, "It's me and you, always."

"It's me and you, always."

She said it so nonchalantly, as if a piece of him doesn't die with every version of her that does. As if he doesn’t meticulously check for signs of the next version of her after she disappears from his life. As if it doesn’t feel like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders when she starts to don her black and pink Spider suit, because he knows he’ll be with her soon. He lets his eyes shut for a moment as her fingers trace a scar on his shoulder. He thinks about what he should say, about if he should be upset that she knew and didn't tell him. But it's Y/N, and he can't bring himself to be mad at her.

"How long have you known?" Miguel asks, his eyes opening and landing on her. In the moonlight, he could see that her neck and chest were littered with marks-bruising from sucking at her skin, angry red lines from where he had dragged his fangs against her, puncture marks from biting her. They had already started to heal, just like the matching marks on his skin had started to.

"I think we all know-at least I did. We get bits and pieces of it, of you mainly. Of a life with you. I think for the most part, we all think it's a dream-that you're just a hot guy in a dream and then we meet you." Y/N explains, her gaze turning soft as the corners of her mouth turn upward. He keeps himself from rolling his eyes at her little “hot” compliment, his mind still reeling.

The rest is left unsaid-the fact that she can see all the different ways she has met her end, how she knows how it feels to die. The feeling of falling on that rebar, the sickening snap of her neck, her being strangled by a Doc Ock’s tentacle, the crushing feeling of a building falling on top of her, choking on her own blood, the feeling of her organs spilling out-

Sometimes she’ll reach down and expect to feel metal sticking out of her, tearing her apart.

"And you're-You're okay with that?" Miguel's eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks at her. Her eyes were on him, but she wasn’t there, not fully. He wished he could take a peak inside of her mind, wanting-no, needing to know how much she could remember. He studies her face in the moonlight, trying to read her, trying to understand how she could be so…okay with all of this.

"I still get a forever with you, don't I? I still get to live a life with you, even if it's just bits and pieces." Her voice is soft as her smile starts to grow ever so slightly, "And I'd take that any day."

His lips are suddenly against hers once more, his hand cupping her cheek. She’s a little surprised, but returns it eagerly, her hand slipping into his locks, holding him to her. Y/N knows that Miguel isn’t good at expressing his feelings, that talking about his feelings is like pulling teeth for him. She also knows what the kiss means, what he wants to say. Each kiss, each bite, each thrust-she can decipher them all.

I wish we had more time.

I wish it wasn’t like this.

I want this, with you, forever.

This isn’t enough.

I can’t keep watching you die over and over.

I need you.

It’s me and you always.

-

This Y/N still meets her end, just like the dozens of others before her.

When she goes this time, she’s in his arms, crimson spilling out of her, covering both of them. She’s looking up at him, tears in her eyes from the pain as she gives him a small, pained smile.

“Don’t be sad, pendejo. I’ll see you again, yeah?” She says hoarsely, blood covering her lips. He leans forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. He stays there a moment, his eyes shut. When he pulls away, there’s tears streaming down her face, but she is still trying to smile at him, trying to tease him. Even like this, she’s still trying to make him feel better. So Miguel tries to smile back at her, but he’s sure it looks more like a grimace.

“Yeah. You’ll see me again.” He murmurs, wiping away her tears. It’s more like he’s reminding himself rather than agreeing with her. He swallows the lump in his throat, “It’s you and me.”

“It’s you and me.” Y/N manages to get out, her breathing more ragged. Her hand moves to rest on top of his, where’s he’s putting pressure on her wound even though they both know there’s no point. Her fingers intertwine with his and he holds her hand. There’s tears streaming down his face, his like there is every time he watches her dies.

Miguel just sits there, holding her hand long after her body stills, her head laying on his chest. He knows eventually he will have to get up, that he will have to take her back to her universe. For now, he just sits there with her, holding her body to his, quietly telling her all of the things that were left unsaid.

[carliim]

The Fourth | Jeremiah x Fem!Reader

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summary: its the Fourth of July and Jeremiah sees you watching the fireworks with Conrad, he's loved you for as long as he can remember, how is he going to react? is he going to see the situation different than it really is? (belly basically doesn't exist and youre in place of her)

request: yes/no (that was really fast lol)

word count: 1k

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, and that's all I can think of!

(not proofread and I wrote this late, ill fix errors later :))

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Jeremiah's pov:

it was the fourth of July night at cousins beach. we had all spent most of the day down at the beach playing drinking games and eating a bunch of food. and all I could do the whole time was watch y/n. only mom knows but I have loved her basically since I was twelve... I stayed home with her for a week while she was sick and I took care of her, and when I got sick two days later she took care of me. I've always seen her as beautiful. even way before this summer. but guess who also did. Conrad. I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up going for Conrad rather than me. I mean yeah he's older, taller, mysterious, but he would never truly care for her as much as I do. Conrad likes the idea of someone needing him and wanting him so he will take that to his advantage until he no longer needs it and then he will push them away, and im not letting that happen to y/n. I can take care of her.

y/n's pov:

I was standing down at the dock watching the fireworks out in the distance smiling to myself at how great of a day I had. I couldn't help but smile when thinking back to every time I caught Jeremiah glancing over at me. he's always been the flirtatious type but recently he's been seeming more sincere about it. that's why I think ill always pick jer. he's taken care of me since we were twelve. all the way back to when he stayed home with me when I was sick. I've loved him ever since and have always promised myself to look after him.

I noticed a figure walk up next to me.

"oh! hey Conrad" I smiled in his direction before looking back to the fireworks

"hey y/n/n" he said slightly monotone that made me look back at him

"Is everything alright?" I turned my body to face him completely and tilted my head to get a better look at him

"um, yeah yeah. I just have something ive been meaning to talk to you about."

"what's up?" I look at him slightly concerned

he looks at me for a few moments, seemingly nervous. instead of speaking he only moves closer to me, taking one of my hands in his. I shift uncomfortably, not liking where it's seeming to be going.

don't get me wrong I love Conrad. but I have and will always see him as a brother. my heart belongs to someone else.

before Conrad could get any closer, a firework flies right by the both of us causing me and Conrad to jump.

"um, I uh, I think im going to head back inside. I think im going to call it a night. goodnight Conrad." I start heading back up to the house quickly, wanting to get out of the situation.

"right, um, goodnight y/n" he clears his throat, glancing back down at the ground before turning back.

----------------------------------

once I got back inside I walked upstairs and headed to my bedroom, I walked in the door but stopped and walked towards jers room. I wanted to make sure to say goodnight to him before heading to sleep, and see if he had as good of a day as I did.

"knock knock, its me" I opened the door and peeped a head inside. the lights were off but her was sitting on his bed facing the opposite direction. "I wanted to see how your day was, I had a lot of fun hanging with all of you and I- jer? are you listening?" I walked over and sat next to him, moving his chin so he was looking at me.

"why him y/n" jer said with a tear stained face.

"woah woah jer why are you crying? what are you talking about?" I turned to face him fully and took one of his hands in mine.

"Conrad." he scoffed. "I seriously should've known that it would end up being him. I saw you both down at the dock together" he let another tear fall as he looked me dead in the eyes with so much hurt.

"no no no jer you're seeing this all wrong. I didn't know what was going down back there. I was just watching the fireworks and he came up to me like that. if im being honest I think he had one too many drinks tonight and didn't even know what he was doing himself." I gave him a sympathetic smile as I rubbed his hand softly

" so you didn't kiss him?" he asked as his gaze softened "and you didn't want to kiss him?"

I laughed and placed a hand on his cheek "jer. no I didn't want to kiss him and I definitely didn't. im honestly glad that definite accidental firework went off. "

"yeah uh that's my bad." he glanced down tugging a smile grin

"I thought so.." I smile softly "look, jer. you are honestly one of the sweetest, and most caring people I have ever met in my entire life. since day one. you have always been the one to look out for me and take care of me. no matter the situation you were the one the came to my rescue. I was drunk? you were the dd. I was sick? you took care of me. I was crying over something dumb? you were my shoulder to cry on. someones messing with me? you'd beat them up in a heartbeat. I can go on and on. jer. it's always always been you and I don't know have you haven't seen that. I wouldn't choose anyone else but you." before I could let him get a work out of his mouth I cupped his cheeks and pressed my lips onto his in a soft kiss. his eyes widened in shock before he melted into it, bringing his hands to hold my waist. i pulled away slowly after a few moments and smiled at him.

"will you stay with me tonight" he asked as he rubbed my sides softly

"of course jer." I smiled and laid down with him, my head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped around me holding me close.

"my moms gonna flip when I tell her about this."

"nah honestly I think she sees everything coming." i look up at him. "and probably this too, we both go to her about everything." we both laughed and not long after fell asleep. gosh this is going to be the best summer yet.

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pls pls like and reblog!! 🫶🏼

[crazystargirl]

hiiii! i saw you wanted some request so i got you! can i request a jack champion x reader where the two of them are on the avatar set just goofing off and being totally oblivious to their feelings for each other while everyone just ships them so hard thank youuuu i love your blog!!!!!!!

take one !

pairing ! - jack champion x reader 

word count ! - 0.6k 

a/n ! - BRO ANON ILYSM MY REQUESTS WERE LITERALLY A DRIED UP WELL BEFORE ( except for that rlly good smut request but idk how to write smut 😭 ) i also don't think i did this request justice since ive been writing it this whole week and im sick, stressed, and dealing with a lot of issues about friends and grades [ i'll add photos later ]

you basically grew up on the set of avatar the way of water with all the other younger cast members, who practically were family to you at this point

most people try not to play favorites with their friends but you did and tried your best not to reveal to everyone that your favorite was jack. everyone found out anyway even though you thought you were sneaky

but anyways that's not the point

you and jack were "the duo" on set and loved goofing off with each other even though some scenes took longer to film because of this, no one really minded since they all shipped you two

like c'mon you two were so oblivious to the "flirty" side if your friendship that you guys were basically a lost cause

so one day britain, trinity, and jamie decided something needed to happen like cmon the tension was becoming too unbearable 

today you guys needed to film a scene where your character, spider, and the rest of the Sully kids were running around the forest before you guys find the recoms

this scene wouldn't have taken that long if it weren’t for you and Jack

you two were not taking anything seriously, stopping every five seconds because jack would trip you or you would push him into the set structure

and then when james would tell you guys what you needed to improve on the scene, you and jack would be playing roblox or scrolling through memes instead of listening

james had decided you two needed a break because you guys had filmed a lot already and you and jack were not helping get anymore done

so now you and jack were hunched over your phone where you kept making jack try on all these filters and you kept taking pictures for later 

jamie came up behind you two and tapped you and jack on the shoulders that were closest to each other and since you guys were hunched over, you ended up kissing while trying to see who tapped you two

you both froze and quickly moved away from each other, embarrassed

you guys heard cheering behind you and looked to see the rest of the cast even the adults, clapping and cheering, while jamie stood laughing his head off

"im going to fucking kill you!" you yelled at jamie, getting up to chase him

"y/n! i need a dollar for the swear jar since you cursed!" trinity yelled, also laughing while you and jack were chasing jamie around

eventually jack tackled him since there was no way you would actually be able to tackle jamie because of the unfair height advantage 

after jamie was on the ground, jack kept punching him, enough to slightly hurt but not enough to bruise while you held his legs down so he wouldn't kick jack

then you got the idea to steal jamie's phone and quickly took it from his pocket, tugging on jack's arm to tell him "let's go"

you guys ran into one of the storage closets no one uses and sat down, unlocking jamie's phone easily

"so you wanna talk about what happened there?" jack said, playing with your hair as you leaned your head on his chest, scrolling on jamie's phone

"mmmm no i rather not" you said, looking up and kissing him again

jack pulls you into his arms and you guys end up staying like that for the rest of the day, messing around on yours, jack's, or jamie's phone

and of course everyone knows damn well where yall are put who would want to ruin this sweet moment that they had been working on to push on you two?

taglist ! - @xyzstar, @gwenlore, @dizscreams, @kaesworldxx, @urmomcomsiimiamour, @nonniesworld, @chemtr4ilz, @abodyhasbeenfound, @phsychobanana

lmk if you want to be added/removed !

© crazystargirl || do NOT copy or repost without my permission

[mothman9283]

Ok i try to keep private but. guys.... i think i have a fever kink... and if this ever gets traced to myself irl i might have to change my identity. heres a rant about my experiences and preferences just to get it out of my system so i can be productive again and stop thinking about it 😇

anyways! i think ive always been intrigued to fevers my whole life. I remember when i was younger, young enough to not know my age, I was playing doctor with my friend and I was taking my stuffies temperature. i remember just continuously adding on pens and sticks and anything i could find to make the thermometer longer because "the temp is too high! the thermometer is gonna burst!"

i also hated showing or telling ppl i was sick ever since i was young, like id always hide it if i was unwell, and i wouldnt tell my parents or friends and would desperately try to make it seem like i was fine

irl i have no interests in sick people or being sick. if one of my friends has a cold or is coughing i always try to keep my distance so i dont get sick either. lowkey sometimes if they r a bit too snotty or whiny i even get annoyed.. 😓😓 I only ever feel this way about characters through a screen, or through little daydreams and fantasies.

anyways, i lowkey dont know if its a sexual tjing or not (ofc not when i was younger), but its just always something that made my stomach then and my heart pound.

i found out abt this community (<3) when i was in my teens. one day i got a yt video in my recommended of one of those "animate my story" videos. the title was smthing along the lines of "im addicted to seeing other people in pain" and i was like "damn. ok lets see whats up!" and clicked it. in the video the guy describes fantasizing about his favourite characters being hurt and being taken care of, and how its never about real people and whatnot, and as little teenage me watched it, i realized "damn. fhis is fr me but with illnesses!" This was the first time ive ever found out there were others like me, so i immediately scrolled to the comments. unfortunately, literally everyone was liek "bro this dude is a freak..." and i was like "oh.. 😕😒" BUT THEN. this one commenter with a pink defualt yt profile pic said "hey :) ! this is actually called whump, and its more common than you think!" and i went WOAH. since then i searched up "sick fever" on google, found tumblr and fanfics and never looked back.

after seeing some of the #s on this site i definitely feel less alone now, but having a fever kink is still pretty uncommon right..? like i dont see anyone posting about it anywhere else except for the two sites a stated prior, and its not listed anywhere either (granted i havent looked very hard).

isnt it also just kinda weird- like even from an evolutionary standpoint... fever = infectious = bad = why would i wanna get closer and die..

regardless of reason, i just love a good sickness- fevers with flushed, hot skin, and chills and coughs. i also need a good temperature readings for the full experience, and i love all the descriptive diction about their health. im not a huge fan of descriptive puking or sinus related stuff, but im happy with it if it contributes to the fever plot-. ive also noticed over the years that its not simply just a cold- they need to be literally described/shown as flushed and sweaty. being "pale" or "green" AINT doing it for me 😡

anyways! yeah that was my rant :) wow thats long. in the unlikely event someone finds this lmk if u have an similar/different experiences, or if a younger me sees this hopefully they wont feel like such a weirdo and feel less alone

[ilikeyoshi]

😭😭😭😭😭😭💞💞

damar had the breathing tube for his ventilator removed and is 100% breathing on his own!!!!! :') i am SO relieved and amazed by his recovery so far..... just miraculous

[carmenpeach]

hm okay something thats been on my mind for like over a year now. sometime last year? or maybe closer to almost 2 years(!?) i started taking antipsychotics cause i just couldnt stand the paranoia anymore it had been ruining my life and i just could not function as a person and i was sick of the daily panic attacks. but like i thought "if i dont like how this makes me feel, i can stop and just go back to being crazy" and obviously i wasnt enjoying it- mostly it made me feel really numb to enjoyment and i found that my special interests were just becoming background noise for me at most and it was really hard like i didnt wanna draw or even play games it was like "wake up go to work come home smoke weed go to bed repeat"

and it was like my stuffed animals quit feeling like sentient and started to feel like just objects and it made me feel sick. like my toys had always been alive in a way and then suddenly they werent, but thats definitly not the reason i was so distressed being sane, since i know that special objects are bound to over the years not feel like friends etc etc <- mentally ill whatever. it was like there was a sudden wash of clarity over me and i hated it.

like it was like i was split in two in a way, and this is the part thats hard to explain unless you personally know the feeling. a lot of schizophrenic people have this feeling of like another person/ self residing in the back of the head or spine. and it gives this sense of paranoia, of being over your shoulders or under your skin just beneath you. and until a few years ago i didnt know this was something other people felt sometimes, and it was terrifying just feeling this entity of sorts possessing me in a way. i had felt it ever since i was a kid (maybe 9? for sure became a hard issue by the time i was 12 though so you know. early schizophrenia if not life long) but i never mentioned it to anyone for a variety of reasons, primarily because there was this feeling that if i outwardly acknowledged it, then it would know that i knew about it, and it would get me. whether that was killing me, torturing me, pulling me into another dimension, or taking over my body. and after 2 decades it just became part of my every day life, this thing within me that would always look for an opportunity to torment me in some unknown but inhumane way. and it was just this all consuming feeling, even feeling its thoughts inside my head, and not being sure where i ended and it began, and i accepted it as just a part of me for better or for worse.

and so starting antipychotics, they did their job and i felt "normal" and i was sleeping regularily for the first time in my life (would lay awake for hours and hours ever sinde like idk 3rd grade. 5 hours a night max usually and then that was plagued by nightmares. and of course the constant hallucinations and delusions in the meantime made sleep even harder) and i even felt less of that endless anger inside of me. and i hated it. it was like after being on it for idk maybe 2 weeks or a month or something i just suddenly in the day felt this clarity wash over me and just like that, the spine creature was gone. it was quiet upstairs. and ive felt hollow ever since. i quit the medication not long after but ive felt the same. its like it got mad at me and left to teach me a lesson for trying to toy with it. and ive been a half human ever since. its spacious in my body and in my mind, used to holding two people and now its just one. and ive spent so much time trying to induce epiosdes and just hoping(?) it comes back, but it hasnt.

its like im being forced to live as a human when im not. "being human" is this like aspect ive always struggled with, like im not gonna go into it but ive been forced to live as a non human my whole life, and every time i start to feel that feeling of "maybe i could be a person" something fucking outlandish happens and kicks me back down. i feel like a cartoon character the way everything is such a "yeah this sort of shit would happen to me" moments all the time. and like in a weird way, i always had this "evidence" i was a non human, with this otherworldly thing living inside of me and it was me.

for a long time i thought of it as the "original" me before all the events in my life forced me to create a new version of myself, and that it hated me. like i was one person ripped in two, and the part you have now (carmen) is the "active" "half" but its only half of a full person. but the other half certainly wasnt a person either. ive had many theories of what it is/ was, but knew i would never know, all i knew was that i could never acknowledge it. and its funny cause knowing that "its just schizophrenia" doesnt ease that feeling. its hard to explain. but what im getting at is that ive spent the last two years learning to navigate myself as only a fraction of what i was before.

its interesting cause i wouldnt say the insanity is gone, every now and then paranoia rears its head and certain topics that would make me have an episode will still freak me out. but i can walk past mirrors now (mirrors were always a 100% episode inducing thing) and i still sleep regularily and ive been eating stable too. but its still with this feeling of hollowness. im used to there being two people inside my body and now its just one, and its too spacious and its almost like i get lost in there. only one set of thoughts in my head, only one person looking through my eyes, only one person controlling my arms. i always felt like an alien and thought i always would. and i found great joy in embracing my schizophrenia rather than hiding it as some terrible secret. and it was the best thing i ever did for myself, was finally being open about my psychosis. ive made so many meaningful connections to other psychotic people, and im so happy ive met ppl that helped me understand myself and that im not the only one that feels this, and also that ive helped other people realize their own psychosis too.

i thought i could play pretend at being a normal person and go back to myself if i didnt like it, but i ended up staying this way. i know its not impossible for that feeling to come back maybe, but my god its horrifying to lose it the way i did. it feels only the more recent months ive started to adapt to being the only me in my body, and to feel like i could maybe be human too. yeah it was scary, but on the other hand now its kind of lonely in a really weird way, and not something i thought was possible either, i can still feel the impression where it was even as it fills in with my own shape now.

[synobun]

63

hi carrit u r my favourite vegetable in the whole wide world

*looks at what this question is*

hi carrit u r my least favourite vegetable in the whole wide world

Under a Read More.

63. Biggest Fear?

Because of my upbringing, I have a complicated relationship with the concept of death. It has always unsettled me for as long as I can remember. I was a five-year-old pondering nonexistence. When I finally removed myself from "playing the game" of my father's cult and its beliefs, it left kind of a void. Not one that I wanted to fill, but after being lectured on a daily basis for years upon years upon years about death, about what comes after this life, about how everything is measured and weighed and judged... it left a hole where an answer would be.

But I was young, so it didn't matter. What's more is that I was healthy, so it doubly didn't matter. I was immortal, so who cares?

Then I wasn't immortal anymore and I became sick. And then I kept getting worse and worse. I repressed any consideration of the subject. I ignored it, and for the most part I was able to. There was plenty of other stuff to panic about. And to be honest, I have been suicidal to some extent for most of my life, and at the time I was more interested in the fantasy of no longer being alive.

Then I reached my mid-20s and I became bedbound from my health. I spent 21+ hours a day trapped in a bed, the ultimate loss of what little I had left. Then I got even sicker, and couldn't eat anymore, and ended up in the hospital once I started throwing up even water. It was bad enough that they weren't legally allowed to let me leave. I was alone. It was the pandemic. Nobody could come to the hospital to be by my side. Nobody could wait at home for me. I couldn't move at all while I was there. Two IVs running constantly, blowing out my veins over and over again, still not able to eat. The internist team assigned to me said if I had waited even twelve hours longer to go to the hospital, it would have been too late. I came... very close.

At the time, I felt nothing about this. I was accepting of it, even. I was just... done. I'm so tired. All the time. But after months of withering away, I was especially done.

We lucked into finding a solution and I was sent home once my blood was no longer acidic.

A month later, I get COVID from my roommate. It was bad. I couldn't move at all. Couldn't eat. Again. The pain was outrageous. I should have gone to the hospital, but I couldn't go back. Not again.

I somehow make it through, finally, after ~11 days. One thing I didn't mention through this is that I had a terrible jaw infection for years that I couldn't get fixed because all the dentists stopped accepting total coverage from my disability insurance. Not eating for so long was bad for that, and COVID was the final straw. By the end of it, my gums were falling apart, brown, bleeding constantly all day and at the slightest provocation. If I ate a sandwich, the bread would be red.

I was in shambles. We'd found a solution for the eating problem, but I had nothing. Months of no work and not being able to work, and the starvation for so long killed my gallbladder and damaged my liver badly. My teeth were in such bad shape. And although getting all my levels brought back up via IV seemingly got me out of a bed after finally recovering from COVID, it was shaky, and I was having a lot of issues keeping food down even with treatment.

I found a nonprofit dentist after that, and I was able to get my teeth fixed. Slowly but surely. But I did it.

I fixed my liver. Finally.

I couldn't do anything with the gallbladder. It was gone. I lived over a year with it dead, subsisting on a no-fat diet and slowly having it kill me. When my girlfriend broke up with me, it called it quits there and decided it would finally end me. To the ER I went, and then I was stuck in the hospital for a week on antibiotics, not allowed to eat, and then surgery. Another situation where I came close to the end.

I share these stories because during them, I was accepting of dying. It was fine. Let's get it over with.

But then I survived. And since surviving them, my fear of what comes after death has exponentially increased. And it continues to get worse. I panic about it almost every single day now. Nothing comforts me. I don't want to cease existing. I don't want to exist forever. But I don't want to end.

And I look at what my life has been, and what my future looks like, and... if this is it, if this life is all I get... how could it be this? How could I only live what my life has been? Torturous misery during my childhood, something I had no choice about. Then it was becoming disabled, something I also had no choice about. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been content or at least hopeful in life, and I'd have more than half those fingers left over.

And like, I can't... do anything to find fulfillment, to create a better life. I'm doing all I can to just barely hang on. The men in my family die young. Not a single one made it past their 40s. And they were healthy people. If they were unhealthy, it was by their own hand. What hope is there for me? I've already come so close to the end. How much time do I have left? I just turned 30, so... maybe ten years?

What's left for me? What can I do? What kind of life can I eke out? Can I have something worth living? If I'm going to slip into eternal nonexistence soon... can I at least have something to smile about before then? Known by even one person, truly known, and not have them leave? To not be considered unlovable? To not be a burden? To be able to feel the wind and sun and just be safe? To be able to live?

I am terrified of what comes after, because I am so disappointed by what this life has been. I'd always be afraid, but especially now, it's difficult to conceive of anything greater to fear.

[focsle]

Practical Jokes Aboard

On this April Fool's, I'm unpaywalling an old whaling history essay from my patreon about the various pranks fellows played upon each other. Here you are! Silliman B. Ives, a two-time veteran whaler aboard the Sunbeam in 1868, talked about the phenomenon of every ship having their ‘fool’ for entertainment.

“On board all ships carrying a large crew there is generally one among the company who by his awkwardness or want of sense becomes the butt for the whole crowd, the object of innumerable practical jokes, and a great source of amusement for the whole crew.”

The rest is under a readmore, since as usual there are many a' primary source.

On William B Whitecar’s 1850s voyage on an unnamed whaleship, that ship’s fool  was a man whom he nicknamed Kedge Anchor. Kedge had drawn the attention of all hands for his boasting of seamanship and long experience on the waves, only for it to be revealed in short time through his own ignorance that he had no such experience at all.

“His sickness, and ludicrous exclamations of “I wish I was on the steam-wagon again” (he had formerly been a brakeman on the New York and Erie Railroad), and pathetic entreaties to be allowed to die in peace, when desired to do anything, excited the mirth of all, no sympathy being tendered to him except in one instance, when one of the seamen offered him a pint of salt water, assuring him it was a cordial; a mouthful was sufficient to undeceive him, he spat out the nauseating draught, and the queer expression he wore on his phiz, and no less queer entreaty to take the darned thing away, were so humorous as to shock his auditors into merriment, and secured him against farther molestation.”

Seasick greenhands were often the easiest targets on the first days out. In one humorous exchange recorded by Charles B. Nordhoff on an unnamed 1850s voyage, a sick greenhand lamented the ship's food not agreeing with him. He went on to say that if he could only have a nice piece of pie like his mother used to make he’d be well again soon enough.

“Pie!” exclaimed the boatsteerer, “as I live, I am glad you mentioned the word. There’s a whole cask of pies down below, which was sent aboard by the owner, on the purpose for the sick ones.” “Suppose I were to ask the captain to hoist it up, and give me some?” suggested the sick man, eagerly. “You could not do a better thing.” “I’ll go to him immediately—he seems to be a kind man, and I will tell him how badly I feel.” Accordingly he dragged himself slowly aft, and there meeting the captain, stated the case to him, and ended with a request that some of the pie might be given to him, as he felt convinced that he would soon recover on such a diet. The captain, smiling grimly, explained to him that some unfeeling wretch had been trifling with him, and that pie was an impossibility at sea.”

A lack of knowledge about how the ship worked led to many a greenhand being advised by another crewmate to make such absurd requests like climbing up to the man at the mast head to ask what time it was, or to go to the mate and tell him to ‘secure the barometer’ and ‘ask him if the masts were working’. It wasn't just seasick greenhands, however. Any man could find himself fair game, especially those who fell asleep during their watch. One of the most popular pranks involved tying a line around a man’s legs while he was sleeping, and then working together to haul him up into the air. William Abbe once found himself at the rope end of this. He was a Harvard law student who had signed on the whaler Atkins Adams in 1858 ‘for his health’, and at times due to his education tutored other men on board in writing and reading. He showed a great allegiance to the after cabin, including a particular noted favoritism from the Captain’s wife, and could get quite self righteous about the behavior of his shipmates. This didn’t always endear him to his fellow foremast hands. 

“That night I laid down for a little while on my chest during my watch on deck + Shanghai making the fore lift fast about my legs, the rest of the watch bowled away till I brot up against the steps, taking in my passage hither an alarmingly sharp cut + twirling around in a way that would have immortalized a circus tumbler. Shang—the rogue—pretending ignorance + when I went on deck all hands were cooly singing — “Bully in the Alley” — + as innocent as so many sucking pigs—I couldn’t help laughing, though at first I was slightually mad. I am now waiting a chance to make S fast. Such tricks are common + all make common sport of each other.”

J.E. Haviland, greenhand aboard the Baltic in 1855, enjoyed partaking in this prank every chance he got, after having it done once to himself:

"After a great deal of trouble [I] finally succeeded in getting it made fast around one of his feet. I then went carefully up on deck where the other end of the rope was + 6 of us got hold of it and gave poor Matt what I call an after haul. To use his own words however he did not wake up until he felt himself strike the Deck right plump on his setdown. In trying to haul him up through the scuttle by his leg he got fast in the steps + then for the first time commenced to sing out bloody murder. After he got on his togging + came on Deck I commenced consoling him + he laid it to everybody else but me. This makes five times I have bent on him + I am the last person he suspects of doing such a deed."

Sometimes the pranks were a little more visually lasting, as Whitecar highlighted another joke set upon Mr. Kedge Anchor.

“One fine Sunday morning Kedge Anchor expressed a desire to have his hair cut. Here was an opening—and a conspiracy was immediately formed against his cranial adornment. One went to work and cut his hair. When finished, a dozen voices exclaimed against the barbarian who had put so outre a cut on his poor head; others recommended a little more off behind. The victim acquiesced, and submitted to the operation. A second, third, fourth, and fifth lent their aid in denuding his skull, and by the time the last had finished he was a picture for a painter.”

The captain often didn’t bother to step in to put a stop to such tricks, having other things to concern himself with than the antics of the fo'c'sle. Albert Peck, on board the Covington in the 1850s, described what happened when a whaler, nicknamed Duff, made his complaint to the captain about being the object of a prank.

“Speaking of duff reminds me of another little incident which transpired a little while before. One evening as Duff (not the cook’s duff but our Duff) was lying on the fore hatch enjoying an evening nap, some mischievous chap smeared his hair and face with tar. A short time afterwards, waking up and finding it out, he at first tried to find the author of it and failing in this he posted aft to where the captain and mate was sitting and began to make his complaint to the captain that some one had been tarring him. "What did you let them for?” “I didn’t know it, sir.” “You were asleep, then. They wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been. Keep awake and you won’t get tarred. Clear out and don’t you come to me with any more of your complaints.” He could get no satisfaction either forward or after, and was forced to swallow it down, vowing that if he ever found out who it was he would serve them the same.”

Often times payback was handled internally in the fo'c'sle, usually with a deliverance of the same prank upon the culprit. From Whitecar,

“I remember one poor fellow, who prided himself much on his agility, giving us a specimen of the movements of the kangaroo, sweating and exerting himself for a whole afternoon, delighting us, as he supposed, with his farcical antics, until he discovered on his back a large paper figure in imitation of himself. He said not a word at the time, and sat down totally abashed; but ere long a paper Punch figured on the back of the supposed instigator.”

"We are constantly abusing each other in fun," William Abbe cheerfully recorded. Among such abuses:

"I have known Shanghai when on deck in his wilfull, mean spirit of mischief + coarse trickery - go to the forecastle hatch and pointing his breech down the gangway discharge such a tearing report that the sleepers have actually startled in their bunks."

“After sunset often all hands play “Whang O Doodle” round the windlass, or chasing each other and spanking—fast + terrible are some of the blows — and we are kept in a roar of laughter at the contorted faces and the rubbing with hands of the wounded parts.”

Regardless of how the decades stretch away from the height of American whaling to our present, the phenomenon of...a bunch of late-teens-to-early-twenties lads spending the dull periods of their voyage farting on each other and running around slapping each other's ass is Truly Enduring.

[the-disaster-in-waiting]

The Seamstress & The Baker (Part IV) (Peeta Mellark X Reader)

(Y/N) never knew when Peeta would return. If he would return? The capital held so many dark memories, almost a grave he could choose to visit or leave to rot and never rekindle the play he put on for it.

She kept replaying the games in her mind the fear and trepidation at Peeta’s choice to team up with the careers, his hunting Katniss. Her anger that he would hurt her. Her relief when she was able to escape and shock, fear and sickness in her stomach cause a small bout of sickness to jump out of her when she thought Peeta may die.

Stabbed alone painted to hide among rocks by a stream. And the poor sweet girl from district 11. Rue she’d met her once or twice as they’d pass each other in halls her small smile, always alert to those around her she was sweet, wearing a beautiful puffy dress. (Y/N) smiled at the reminder of her twirling backstage at the small joy of such a privilege to wear what the capital would call an easy breakfast dress.

At that she turned off her tv. Hiding in a fortress of blankets and pillows she cried. It was different being so close. When she’d watch with her father in the years past she kept distance from them. Her father, the seamstress who handled all she never met the tributes, only seeing them through a screen.

But knowing them, their names, personalities and lives hurts too much. How could she handle losing Peeta? She didn’t think she could.

When Katniss finally found Peeta (Y/N) cried with joy glad they kept safe together. She’d wished she could send something, anything to help them but she could barely help her father for the time being and with President Snow so upset with her part played in the stories circulating she couldn't take any chances.

Finally it was left down to Katniss and Peeta (Y/N) gasped kneeled right next to her screen at the revelation her whole body tensed at the prospect of one or another and the part that hated herself was given all the material in the world when the smallest piece of her heart begged Katniss to let Peeta live. She knew he would never hurt Katniss and that he was too selfless to not try and hurt himself for her.

When she saw them walk out. Their first moments as two winners of the hunger games she whooped arms waving wildly and body not far behind so proud they’d been able to survive.

But as they walked fast past all of the crowd Peeta barely looked up from the floor. Same from Katniss her face fell, they’d survived but at what cost? Would they even want to be here? Hands held tightly together they moved to the train as Peeta turned them waving to the crowd behind them as the doors closed. No longer there, a fast train sent them straight back to their district to recover.

And (Y/N) proceed to wait.

-

Peeta couldn’t handle it. The nightmares, the scars. I mean for god sake he lost his leg. How was he meant to handle that?. Every night he had the same nightmare: Katniss, Cinna, Portia, Effie, Haymitch and (Y/N) now joining him in the hunger games. blood , death it was all too much every night waking in the empty house he could now call home. His family were eager to join him but after the fifth night woken by screams and holding him down so the scratches on his face couldn’t reach his brain.

He stared at the letters so many times. She’d written three before giving up. He felt ashamed but how could he answer any question she had when he couldn't even answer his own?

Who did he love? Was the story of loving Katniss a lie? He’d fallen for her the minute he met her in school dreaming of marrying her when older. But as time passed those feelings disappeared or at least he hoped they did. That day in the rain he knew what it meant to suffer, to be beaten with nothing and no one to rely on and that's why he knew he had to give her what he could, but was that all it was? Or were his old feelings helping make his decisions?.

When he met (Y/N) he knew she was pretty like Katniss; she was hardened from the tough decisions she’d made to survive. But unlike Katniss she liked him. She sat and talked with him sometimes so long the night would turn to morning strategizing and working together. She was astounded by his strength, moving her table to retrieve small buttons she dropped when sorting her boxes.

“That is perfect for you” she said smiling and going to try and grab a chair throwing it toward his head before he dutifully knocked it away. She laughed a short loud one before clapping and approaching him.

“Do that and no doubt the wives and widows will be falling over you” she held his head in one hand as she spoke. “Your pretty boy charms will help too, remember that” bopping his nose before shooing him out, closing the work room to return home.

He could only walk her till they reached his apartment. Whilst he wanted to continue he knew of the two she was better versed in the streets than him and she didn’t want him to be missing from walking too far down a dark road.

Each time they were alone she’d gently pat his forearm in thanks. Before disappearing and shouting back ‘sleep well Peeta do not fear the dark tonight, that is tomorrow's problem’.

-

When Haymitch got to know (Y/N) better he was able to see just how cunning she really was, her smarts lending way to more than her current career choice. But he saw the way her eyes darkened and tensed at the sight of President Snow even on a screen and knew, while they weren��t twins, their experiences lent to close cousins understanding the cruel uncle that would try and break their spirit anytime he saw them.

He could tell she cared for Peeta and that Peeta cared for her and Katniss his choices were a mixture of stupid and smart. With the coming visit to all districts he just hoped that the two victors could continue their play of affection and spare all their lives.

Peeta had begun to rely on Haymitch to read (Y/N)’s letters , never bothering to reply her choice of words and lack of emotion made it even harder for him to feel she even cared anymore how could she? He was promised to Katniss now in love forever in the eyes of the capital. Broken hobbling around with a false leg and scars covering his body he could barely stand to look at himself in a mirror. How could she? Or any woman for that matter?. Damaged, his own family fled from his terrifying screams at night unable to hold him back from inflicting his own damage to escape the visions.

Sometimes he thought it’d be easier to just follow Haymitch’s lead. He may be a drunk, unable to think even a single thought or act correctly but at least he wasn't aware of the walking nightmare they both lived.

[janesociety]

daddy issues, pt ii

tony stark x teen!reader

type: angst, hurt/comfort (?)

summary: you aren’t getting better- tony knows it, you know it, and so does everyone else.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of death and dying. reader is very sick. medical procedures like surgery and an iv.

pt i

masterlist

✩ ✩ ✩

You were getting better. That’s what Tony had kept telling you, at least.

You weren’t all that convinced.

You woke up almost a whole day later with Tony’s hand in yours. He was always softer with you than other people, but not like this. He rarely left your side the entire time you were out, and once you woke up, he still seemed to check in on you regularly- sometimes for hours at a time.

Bruce eventually took you off the oxygen, but the IV remained in your arm- much to your dismay. He kept running tests, everything he tried coming up blank, but he wasn’t going to stop until you were better.

“You don’t have to sit in here all day and watch me sleep,” you spoke up one day as you groggily rolled onto your side. Tony set the book he was reading off to the side. “I won’t wither away just because you’re not here.”

“Oh, please, we all know you’d burn the place down if we left you alone long enough,” Tony said, adjusting his position in the plastic chair he was sitting in. “That’s why we had to put your room next to Steve’s- popsicles don’t burn, they melt.” You couldn’t help the laugh that flowed from your lips at the lame joke. Even if it was followed by a small coughing fit. “Take it easy, kiddo,” Tony said, scooting closer to your bed. “Don’t wear yourself out.”

You gave a small head nod in response, suddenly feeling weaker than before. Tony leaned back in his seat, picking his book back up.

“Tony?” you asked. He hummed in response. “Am I dying?”

“No, of course not,” he said, a little too quickly in your opinion.

“I’d want you to be honest with me if I was,” you said, playing with your fingers. The small act was making your hands ache, so you stopped, resting them over your stomach.

Tony reached over, careful to avoid the wires sticking out of you, taking your hand in his.

“You’re not dying, Y/N,” he said firmly.

You still knew he was lying.

Within the next two days, things only seemed to get worse. All the Avengers were now taking shifts by your side- usually with a lot of overlap as each lasted hours at a time. You’d been put back on oxygen when you began complaining of being so tired that it hurt to breathe.

You tried to put on a brave face for the rest of them, even if you could read all their faces and knew that they knew something you didn’t. You never cried or complained. You didn’t question anyone about you dying again, simply accepting it as a fact. Of course it was going to happen one day, but you couldn’t help that you were sad it was so soon.

“Please tell me you have something,” Tony said as he entered the lab adjacent to the med bay.

“I might,” he said, putting some scam results he took up on a board. “I think it’s connected to her powers. You see, she got them from HYDRA, right? Now that’s not easy- it takes advanced biotechnology to be able to give someone powers without killing them. You already know that, I suppose.” Tony resisted the urge to snap at Bruce for taking so long with his explanation. “Well, I think they installed some kind of self destruct along with. Like a biological timer to keep their ‘goods’ from being kept in the wrong hands.” Tony kept harsh eye contact with Bruce. “It’s causing her body to shut down.”

“But you can fix it, right?” Tony said, staring at the black and white images that meant nothing to him.

“We’re running out of time,” Bruce said, clearing his throat. “Once it gets past a certain point, it may… it may just be better to let her go.”

“No, we’re not doing that,” Tony said, barely letting Bruce finish and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Tony-“

“I promised her she wasn’t dying and I will not be made into a liar,” he said, harshly. Bruce looked away from him, the monitor on his desk displaying your vitals in the next room. Tony sighed. “Just tell me what you need. Doctors, staff, medical equipment- I can get you anything you need in the next two hours.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You were pretty out of it for the next few days. When you were conscious, you were in pain, and when you slept, you were restless and often had nightmares. In the times you were awake, you were aware enough to know there was now a team of medical professionals checking in on you at all times. You felt like a guinea pig with how many people were constantly examining, touching, and prodding at you at all times.

Tony still stayed close, albeit a bit farther back after being snapped at by a doctor one too many times for being in the way.

Even if your eyes hardly opened for more than ten minutes at a time, you were always acutely aware of the number of people around you. Most of the Avengers sat with Tony around your bed and you kept hearing things along the lines of “go to bed, Nat,” and “we’ll come get you if anything changes, Steve,” and “if I fall asleep, wake me up when she does.”

You could hear the hushed whispers of doctors talking to Tony or Bruce over your head. You could hardly focus long enough to catch any of what they were saying, but when you heard a doctor say “Let’s step into the hall,” you knew it wasn’t good.

“Unless we can figure out what’s killing her,” Dr. Klein, an older woman and one of the best immunologists in the Northern Hemisphere, said, “we’re going to just be barely keeping her alive. Her quality of life is rapidly deteriorating and I believe she may be taking a turn for the worse.” Tony watched you through the window, surrounded by machines, doctors, and superheroes. “I thought I should let you know that it may be time to discuss hospice options in the event there’s nothing else we can do.”

Tony didn’t answer her. He just stood, watching you. He shut down any time anyone brought up you dying. He couldn’t help it. Imagining a world without you just seemed so impossible he couldn’t even fathom the reality he was being faced with.

Dr. Klein’s pager beeped and she excused herself, leaving Tony alone.

“Steve?” you said, your mouth dry from how long it’d been since you spoke. The others around the bed, including Steve, collectively stood and walked closer to you. You could tell Wanda, Bucky, and Sam were there and were somewhat surprised that Tony wasn’t.

“I’m here,” Steve said, taking one of your hands and leaning closer to you to hear your weak sounding voice.

“What’s going on?” you asked, not actually wanting to know what was going on, but rather wanting to have a conversation with someone. You hadn’t had much of a chance to speak to any of them and it was starting to get quite boring only being stuck with your thoughts and nightmares.

“You’re in the hospital still,” he said, stroking your hair back.

“Oh,” was all you could muster, mentally kicking yourself for sounding more confused than you were. You had to take a moment, the small sentences winding you. “Can you talk to me?” you croaked, your voice sounding scratchy. “All of you?”

“‘Course, doll,” Bucky answered, grabbing his chair and moving it forward. You mustered up a small smile, but it disappeared the moment it was there. The thought crossed his mind that he preferred it when you were screaming and thrashing, because then at least you could move. He mentally kicked himself for even comparing the two.

“Anything you want to hear about?” Steve asked. You wanted to say yes and list off all the things you wanted to talk about since you got sick, but your throat was already so sore from talking. You shook your head no.

Sam leaned forward in his seat. “Why don’t I tell you about mine and Bucky’s training session the other day?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile, seeing Bucky immediately turn red.

“Hey now-“

“C’mon, Buck,” Sam said, feigning offense, “you’re going to deny the girl this funny story just because she wasn’t there to experience it?” Bucky just shook his head. “Anyway, as I was saying…”

You tried to stay awake. You really did. But you kept nodding off anyway, jumping awake every few minutes to tell him to keep going.

“I can finish the story later, Y/N,” he said after the eighth time you’d fallen asleep.

“No, no,” you said, coughing slightly. “Just keep going. I want to hear your voice.” You took notice of Wanda’s silence, reaching out suddenly for her hand. She took it, squeezing it a few times as she tried to keep tears from her eyes. She’d already lost one sibling. She couldn’t lose another, even if you weren’t blood.

“So Bucky decided it was a good idea to get up again-“

“Excuse me,” a doctor said, rushing up to your bed with what seemed to be a whole medical team and a few other doctors you recognized behind him. “I’m sorry, I need you all to step back.” He was being quite rude with his tone, you thought. Everyone did as they were told, but you kept your feeble grip on Wanda’s hand.

“Ma’am-“

“Please,” you spoke up, staring weakly at him. He glared down at you.

“Alright,” he muttered under his breath. Nurses moved all around you, messing with the machines, your IV, one even shining a light in your eyes. You’d gotten somewhat used to people randomly walking up to you and poking at you or shoving things in your face, but with so many people it quickly became overwhelming. You squeezed Wanda’s hand tighter, beginning to shake a little.

Finally a familiar face appeared over you.

“Y/N,” Bruce said, leaning over your bed. “We’re gonna take you back to surgery, okay? Everything’s gonna be alright.” You began to shake more and Wanda put a hand over yours in a weak attempt to comfort you.

Tears were forming in your eyes, suddenly feeling the most scared you had been since you got sick.

“No,” you cried out weakly. “Please.” Tears streamed sideways down your face, either hitting the oxygen tube around your ears or your hair. Even if you were barely conscious most of the time, you wanted to be aware before you died. You didn’t want to go out on a metal table. The idea of not being able to feel yourself slipping terrified you.

“It’s going to be alright, you’re in good hands,” Bruce said as your bed began moving. Wanda’s hand slipped out of yours and you waved it around frantically trying to find hers again.

“No, please, no,” you whispered, barely processing where you were going. All you could see were the lights overhead as they rolled you down the hall. Everything else took too much effort to focus on. You came to a sudden stop in a dark room. Your cries became louder.

“Y/N, listen to me, sweetheart,” Bruce said, appearing in front of you again, “everything’s going to be alright. You’re going to be okay.” As he was speaking, someone removed your oxygen tube and put an oxygen mask over your face. “You’re alright.”

“You’re okay.”

“Everything’s alright.”

That was the last thing you remember.

Fortunately for you, the Avengers, and, by extension, Earth (because who knows what would’ve happened if they’d really lost you), you woke up a little over a day later.

You still felt sore- all the muscles in your body burning even as you laid flat on a bed. You were still exhausted. Beyond exhausted, even. Your eyelids and limbs are so heavy you could barely move. You could feel the now familiar feeling of an oxygen tube under your nose. It calmed you in some way.

The only real difference you could identify is you didn’t feel like you were being drained. Like the life was no longer being sucked out of you.

When you finally got your eyes opened, it took a minute for everything to come into focus. The overhead lights that had been on almost the entire time you were sick before were now dimmed, which you were thankful for considering being blinded was not the first thing you wanted to experience once you woke up. You turned your head slightly, still unsure of moving your body. The only person next to your bed now was Tony, just like the first time you woke up there.

He was holding your hand again, which you had to look down to realize because you were still trying to regain meaningful feeling in most of your body. He was asleep, slumped forward with his head resting on his arm against your bed. Slowly, you moved each of your fingers, eventually resulting in you squeezing his hand. It took him a minute to wake up- using his free hand to rub his eyes and check the time before he finally looked up and saw you staring back at him.

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward so he was closer to your head. He held your hand now in both of his so that it was next to his face. “How are you feeling?” You cleared your throat, not feeling the ache in your lungs you’d grown accustomed to over the long week.

“Amazing,” you said, cracking a smile. Your voice was weak and hoarse, but all Tony could focus on was the fact that your eyes were actually focusing on him- not in the distance, not nodding off, at him. He laughed at the absurdity of your response, and so did you, but you stopped once you realized his had turned to sobs. You didn’t know what to do at first. For one, Tony Stark was crying in front of you. Not only that, he was crying about you. And secondly, you were still feeling a bit drowsy from anesthesia and processing everything was taking just a bit longer.

“Tony,” you said, haphazardly moving your other hand to sit on top of his that were still around your other hand. “Please don’t cry.” He smiled, tears still running down his face as he rested his forehead on the stack of hands you’d both created.

“We thought we’d lost you,” he said, his shoulders still shaking as he squeezed your hand tighter. He looked up at you, his face red. You grinned at him.

“You didn’t really think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?”