#like it's just so awful because i've been getting these coughing fits so bad i almost throw up

[mrsmarlasinger]

FUCK Robotabs. I'm genuinely sick rn, but I accidentally got high and now we 🫥😶‍🌫️🫠😐

[babygirlbenji]

Prince Charming - Mason Mount

a/n i feel like i've used this gif before but i do not care! i'm off to a wedding so wanted to get this out! enjoy mwah <3

summary: just some fluff with mason and reader who is sick!

You hated being sick. 

The cough that had been racking your body for the last few days had reduced you to talking in croaky whispers, your whole body ached, you had no energy and all you could do if you weren’t sleeping was watching repeats of Friends. 

What made it even worse was that Mason wasn’t there to look after you and give you the love you so desperately needed to heal. He was in Manchester and you were stuck in London. To add insult to injury, you had planned to take the train up to the north west to see him and watch his game against Liverpool. You’d had to message him the day before, saying you weren’t going to be able to come up. He wanted nothing more than to look after his girl, but Ten Hag had been adamant that Mason would at least be on the bench for the game, if not in the starting lineup. 

It was just an all round bad situation. A long distance relationship was not necessarily what you signed up for, but you loved Mason more than anything in the world. You were both determined to make it work. 

On Friday night, you were tapping through your Instagram stories, looking at all your friends going out and celebrating the end of the working week. You sighed, which obviously turned into a coughing fit. With nothing else to do, you turned off the lights and curled up in bed, hoping that by morning, you would feel better and be able to watch Mason play. 

Or at least that was your plan. This plan was scuppered by your phone lighting up with Mason’s picture as he rang for a FaceTime. You shoved a hoodie on and ran your fingers through your hair in the hopes it would make you a little bit more presentable, before flicking the lamp by your bed on so you could speak to him. 

‘H-Hello,’ you croaked. His face was slightly pixelated through the dodgy WiFi in the hotel he was staying in, but he still managed to look like he’d walked off a Vogue shoot. Damn him, you thought to yourself. 

‘Hey sweet thing, how are you doing?’ Just the sound of his voice was enough to perk you up a bit, and you sat up. 

‘I’m… I’m okay, just tired and got this stupid bloody cold that’s had me bed bound the last two days. How are you?’ You could barely stifle the yawn that crept out of your mouth without any warning. 

‘Oh darling, I’m okay, just called because I’m worried about you, I’ve hardly heard from you the last couple of days and wanted to check in.’ Your heart swelled. You’d been together over two years, but he was still finding ways to make your dreams come true. He really was your Prince Charming. ‘I won’t keep you long as I know you’re sick, just wanted to say I love you and I miss you.’ 

The emotions you’d been feeling over the last couple of days boiled over, and your face crumpled as tears leaked from your eyes. 

‘I really, really miss you, Mase,’ you sobbed. ‘I feel awful, I can’t do any work, I haven’t seen you in like a fortnight, everyone’s going out and enjoying the sun while I’m stuck here on my own with not even Ben or Reece to keep me company as they’re in Timbuktu or something.’ Mason couldn’t help but chuckle at your melodramatics; Ben and Reece were not in Timbuktu, they were in fact in Southampton for their away game. He didn’t have the heart to mention this, though. 

‘I’m sorry, baby, I really am, I wish I could be there to help. Just focus on resting and getting better, okay? I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve finished this game, I promise.’ You sighed. You knew he couldn’t help being a professional footballer, and he loved playing with United, but you couldn’t help but feel like part of your soul went wherever he went. 

You chatted a bit more, or rather, he chatted while you listened to him, before he bade you goodnight and you were once again left with nothing but the sound of your fan blowing cool air on you to stop your fever spiking too high. It wasn’t long before your cold and cough medication kicked in, and you were out like a light. 

*

You awoke the next morning feeling like there was someone in your house. Ignoring the fact that your fever had gone and your airways felt clearer than they had in the last few days, you stepped out of bed and grabbed your phone from the bedside table. Fully prepared to call the police, you padded silently down the carpeted staircase and peeked into the kitchen. 

What you saw made another sob fall out of your mouth.

Mason was stood by the stove, wearing a United hoodie and track pants, while stirring something in a pot on the hob which you could only guess to be chicken soup. 

‘Mase?!’ He whirled around and grinned.

‘Hey babe!’ You summoned the energy to run over to him and throw your arms around his neck, relishing the contact of your bodies having been apart for nearly two weeks. 

‘What the hell are you doing here? I thought they wanted you to play?’ He kissed your temple and shrugged.

‘But I wanted to be here with you more. It wasn’t easy but I managed to negotiate it off. After our FaceTime last night I couldn’t be apart from you any longer. I couldn’t have you suffering here by yourself while Ben and Reece are in Timbuktu.’ You giggled at the reference to what you’d said the previous night, and hugged him harder, your head finding its usual spot just under his neck. He wrapped you up in his arms and rubbed your back. 

‘I can’t thank you enough, Masey, it means the world.’ You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head.

‘It’s the least I can do for my princess.’ And in that moment, with you curled up against his chest while he stirred chunks of chicken and vegetables in a thick broth, breathing in his glorious scent that could only the scent of home, you had absolutely no doubt in your mind that you really had found your Prince Charming. 

[randomwriteronline]

@lee-the-yeen hello. for your big brain. i offer you. A gifte :)

(this is part of the Kingdom AU, idk if u know it, but in short a bunch of stuff happens and so theyre eels who live in a fountain named after them in this one. matoran of iron go feed them sometimes. dw it will make sense eventually, possibly. also im including some hcs from ur post bc theyre baller)

"There's a nook at the other end of the fountain, you know," Kotu mentioned nonchalantly as she haphazardly launched jerky strips all over the water.

Vezok didn't make much out of it, as he was busy zooming back and forth with his mouth open trying to get as much food in it as possible, because he had been tricked into being left hungry and angry enough times for him to be very much done with it; Hakann and Thok, instead, quirked their brows at that with cautious, gluttonous interest.

"Is that so?" the Ice Skakdi mused.

"Not that you should go there," the Ga-Matoran continued.

"And why not?"

"Well, I bet there's nothing for you."

"Bah!" Hakann cried out with a snap of his jaws: "And I bet you've got something hidden in that cranny!"

Kotu snickered at him: "How'd you suppose I'd do that?" she asked in an almost mocking tone, "It's not like you wouldn't have know if I'd ever set foot in these Piraka-infested waters before."

"But you could've when it was being built!"

"Why haven't you jumped in yet, by the by?" Thok added, mellifluous voice oozing out of his smirk; he began swimming back and forth just under where she sat with fluid motions, doing a real bad job at looking menacing. "Aren't we friends? Come on, get in for a swim with your old pals, little Matoran, and we can help you get back what you've stashed away in that nook, what do you say?"

She smiled with mischievous intent and a high pitched hum: "Oh, I've got to wait a moment or so first."

"Scared of a little water?"

"No, just wanna check how quick the poison works."

Vezok swallowed his enormous mouthful of jerky as loudly and grottesquely as possible before spitting a spray of water at her: "That's Kane-Ra waste," he decreted, "That slobber tasted great!"

"Aw, thank you! I put a lot of effort on masking the toxin's flavor!"

"Good thing you ate all of it, Vezok," Hakann played along with her: "It was getting a bit crammed in here."

His former backstabbing associate whipped around to bite his chin right off, and in a moment they were both speeding after one another across the fountain as thought it had turned into a pinball machine and they were trying for a new high score, with fitting background music so kindly provided by Thok's deafening laugh and Kotu's snorting giggles.

"Aren't they cute?" she cackled to the silent ex-Piraka beneath her.

Zaktan remained very serious as he slowly turned a side-eyed glare onto her Rau: "You're setting us up."

The Matoran widened her eyes and gasped dramatically with her hands flying on her heartlight: "Me?" she exclaimed, as false as a Vortixx's praise. "Set you up to some prank for my own amusement? Whatever are you saying! I would never do such a thing!"

His jaws lunged lazily out the water to bite at her, missing entirely; Kotu skipped away with a little yelp, not scared in the slightest, and left the Skakdi to their inevitable in-fighting.

In the meantime, Vezok had managed to bite down on one of Hakann's spikes and was being violently yanked around by the red armored Piraka while he screamed his entire head off - which considering they were little more than heads by now meant he was attempting the rather incredible feat of beheading himself without having a body - and Thok convulsed his spine into knots coughing laughs through his clogged gills.

This sort of happenstance really did make him miss the pleasant days of trying to kill each other at every opportunity.

"Quiet!" Zaktan barked at last before their idiocy could kill him with a fulminous aneurysm. The other three Skakdi stumbled, rolled, and hushed at last. "That infernal little thing wants to trick us! She's got something in store for us, something I don't like. I'll bet that nook doesn't even exist."

Hakann scoffed: "Of course I don't trust her! What sort of idiot to you take me for?"

"I've known you too long for my answer to be courteous."

"But she could've told a half truth," Vezok butted in. "And I've seen that cranny she mentioned."

"Did you see it, or only think you saw it?" Thok questioned wisely.

"I said I saw it!" his companion snapped: "It's half covered in rocks and it's barely anything interesting!"

"That sounds like it could be any scrape on the side of the fountain!"

"It's no scrape, it's an opening! It's the one she meant!"

"Let's see this, then," Zaktan conceded, "Just to check if the little Water maiden's words had some inkling of truth to them."

So, still trading doubtful looks, the four toothy beings swam quickly, following their blue armored associate's lead.

The Piraka fountain (so graciously named after them after they'd been confined in it, as they couldn't very well be left to prowl the shores and have free reign on the toes of anybody that dared dip their feet in the water) wasn't as small as it looked like: those Onu-Matoran architects were quite skilled at building things that were much bigger than they appeared - likely on account of their experience living underground in tunnels that would have otherwise been downright suffocating.

It took as such quite a while for the mutated Skakdi to find the specific spot Vezok had mentioned. They were rather pleased to find that their search hand't been in vain: lo and behold, in a corner of the structure there opened some kind of hole half buried behind a hastily put together barricare of small rocks, looking not shallow at all.

The Water Skakdi grinned victoriously: "See! Beings of little faith!"

"Incredible," Thok noted - unsure whether to attribute the word to the fact that Kotu hadn't lied, or that Vezok had indeed connected the dots correctly for once.

Zaktan slithered closer to the opening.

"So?" Hakann egged him on. "Get in! See what's in there!"

The glare the green armored being shot him was accompanied by the Ice Skakdi's complaint: "And why don't you go in, huh? Scared to get your tail chomped?"

"What about you, then!" the other immediately bit back: "If you're so brave, go ahead!"

"Of course I won't, I'm not built for recognition! We should send in Reidak for this - nothing can kill that brute, anyways."

"And where is he?" Vezok asked.

"What sort of question is that!"

Then Thok hushed.

"I have no idea." he admitted finally.

Hakann howled a guffaw: "Great job on the detective skills! You wouldn't notice a Manas crab if it was charging at you!"

"Oh, shut your trap! Where's Avak, then, huh? Do you know that?"

"Of course I do!" and after a quick turning of his head left and right, the red Skakdi tried to save his hide by declaring, with the arrogance of someone trying to cover a mistake: "Not here, clearly!"

"Ah, well, aren't you observant!"

"Get off my back, he's a different deal! We could lose him in a shallow pool with how tiny he is!"

"Quit your yapping," Zaktan hissed suddenly. "I hear something."

The other three swarmed him immediately.

There was indeed a sound coming from within the nook. It was cavernous, and intermittent, with a rumbling cadence typical of something very large and (for now) relaxed. Perhaps it had heard their bickering and was warning them? No, that seemed unlikely; but at the same time, they couldn't quite rule out that possibility.

This sounded like something to be handled by someone near indestructible... Or with the right cage always at the ready.

Where were those two idiots when you needed them?

Vezok, with his animalistic strength and dim wits, was the best next thing, the other three reasoned. But before they could order him around he had already shoved them further into the nook, blocking off the exit with his big dumb head.

"Safety in numbers," he growled; caught between two beasts as they were, his associates decided it would be wiser not to argue.

It wasn't a long trip, but it certainly felt like it.

The little entrance opened into a short tunnel heading for another somewhat wider opening; now added to the grumbling groans growing louder with every inch they swam forward was another sound, a little softer but equally as insistent, warped by the water as well, probably belonging to a second unseen creature.

This kind of news tends not to be very warmly welcomed when one is scouting uncharted caverns. And yet, though they were certainly not happy to hear it, they couldn't shake off a strange feeling of familiarity about it.

There was just something about it - and the rumbling too, it reminded them of something, but where could they have heard anything like that? It seemed so natural, like, like...

They made themselves as flat as they could against the ground and walls, and peeked through the opening at last.

The scene was... Well.

To anybody else, it would have been rather puzzling.

Reidak was growling up a storm, lips pulled around his impressive chompers in a large square frame, otherwise almost immoble aside from a few quick jolts every now and them; swimming around him in short bursts, Avak busied himself biting everywhere across his spine, gnawing at his angular spikes and chin like a properly furious eel desperate to tear the skin off its prey.

Any other being would have rightfully assumed they were having some kind of silent argument, or maybe some specific fighting ritual not particularly well known outside of Zakaz, and concluded that losing a limb to part them was not worth the risk; being the former Piraka properly brought up Skakdi, however, they were intimately aware of what was indeed going on, and to say they were embarrassed beyond bewilderment would have been an understatement. To put things into perspective, they would have gladly gone back into the Shadowed One's employ if that could have somehow immediately teleported them away from the scene they were bearing witness to.

It distinctly didn't help that right as they thought that Reidak reared his big ugly head to lazily chomp on Avak's cheek, eliciting a similarly loud and fond growl from the smaller being.

Between their difference in height and the Stone Skakdi's vague thagomizer, they looked like some weird parody of a typical pair coming from some upside down version of Zakaz where the females were tinier and males much larger.

They were necking.

And Great Spirit knew how little their associates wanted to see that.

The four unfortunate Skakdi tried to slink away, to leave that little disgusting lovenest and forget all about this experience; alas they all had the same idea at the same time, which resulted in them smacking their tough skulls right against one another, producing a terrifying rockus akin to a dozen pots and pans carelessly being launched onto a tinfoil roof.

Certainly, in another situation, this woul have led to some kind of infinite argument with plenty of physical retaliation.

In this situation, however, they instead became very aware of the fact that the two gross sweethearts had immediately hushed and were peering directly into their souls with the sort of gazes that would make a Takea shark feel deeply unsafe.

Hakann suddenly felt a great void around himself.

He glanced at his sides: the other three Piraka had mysteriously vanished while he'd been petrified.

Sons of a--

Next thing he knew he had been chased out of the nook with Avak clamped around his head in an attempt to crush his skull between his teeth while prattling in a shrill muffled voice (mouth still full of Fire Skakdi) something about not having a moment of privacy in this blasted fountain.

He would have certainly ended up exploding like a watermelon between a pair of muscular enough thighs if Reidak hadn't swam up to his beartrap-mouthed partner and knocked Hakann out of his invincible bite. Granted, the impact had enough force to smack him right into the fountain floor where he formed a small crater, but he'd take a mild concussion over being turned into the two halves of a delicious freshly split open coconut.

His vision swam for a few moments as he tried to get his bearings again. By the time sight came back to him, two pairs of glowering eyes were squashing him against the ground.

"Liked what you saw?" Reidak growled - no longer in the amorous tone he'd reserved for the Stone Skakdi's affection.

"No," Hakann peeped: "Not at all."

"Then you'll keep your ugly mug out of our business, now?" Avak hissed, so cose he could almost still feel his teeth clenched around his temples.

The red armored being nodded hastily.

"All four of you?"

He nodded even harder.

A second later he was flung away, almost directly out of the water, and the other two Skakdi watched him hurry as far away from their nook as his fishy body would allow him to swim.

The Earth Skakdi huffed, piqued: "The nerve of some beings..."

"I bet it was Kotu," the other snarled as he paced back and forth. "That nosy little thing - I saw her, you know! I bet she told them there was some treasure or other... Ah, next time I catch her--!"

"You should put her in an airtight ball," his partner suggested: "So we can knock her in the fountain and toss her between ourselves."

The thought tore a hysterical cackle out of Avak as he contorted in time with his own guffaws, spirits definitely lifted: "Ha! Ha, now that's an idea! Wouldn't that be a sight! That little prankster wailing and crying, smacking her mask all over the prison while we throw her about... Oh, that'd be payback, alright!"

Reidak chuckled hard while curling around him; the smaller being's thin spine fit perfectly within black spikes shaped like square brackets, letting the two snuggle like a pair of vicious water snakes locked in a fight to the death.

A quick chomp around his third eye-like lump on his forehead brought the larger of the two back from his nuzzling haze.

His grin turned sharp, his eyes squinting at Avak in an awfully dangerous manner: "Ah?" he only drawled, letting his cavernous voice ripple through the water.

The Stone Skakdi bristled - exactly like he used to bristle back before their mutation whenever Reidak would come just a little too close to him, shaking his spine hard and subtly swinging his thagomizer to convince the other he was a enough of a threat to be left well alone, or else; but this felt a little more performative, like some kind of invitation instead of a 'keep out' sign, especially with that nervous smirk accompanying the motion, and his tardiness in trying to escape, only making a move when his tail was already mellowly held between his Earth companion's big jaws.

"You think you're smart, uh?" Reidak chuckled.

"Smarter than your ugly mug, for certain!" Avak bit back, and gnawed at his forehead again.

He laughed as his tail was yanked with a muffled: "Why, I oughta--!"

"You oughta what? Teach me a lesson?"

"Are you mocking me, you Fikou?"

"So what if I was?"

"Oh, that's it then," and as they wrestled playfully, biting each other silly between gross ugly chuckles, they began yanking one another back into their not too secret little nook. "Let's settle this like proper Skakdi, eh?..."

[crowcaws]

I've had some thoughts brewing ever since I finished NATLA, and watching Friendly Space Ninja's review of PJO really brought up a lot of feelings after sitting on it for a month so I'm going to try and articulate those thoughts here.

It's very interesting this fixation on the "word of god" and its involvement making or breaking a screen adaptation, to the point where you get unwavering devotion when a creator is on board, and outright disdain when a creator isn't on board. Both are completely reactionary takes that are unhelpful, especially when adaptations can be, sometimes, excellent without their original creators involved, and awful (cough fantastic beasts cough) when they are involved.

Regardless of whether or not NATLA was bad (it wasn't, it was just fine) I love that people are going "HA I bet Netflix regret losing BRYKE!" as a sort of gotcha, as if Korra didn't prove like a decade ago that Bryke are not infallible screenwriters. As if those same people, when the show was first announced and Bryke were on board, didn't even think to consider that Bryke are just two of the writers that made a great show.

Because fandom has a problem where it doesn't actually care or consider if the original creators are a good fit or not, if their involvement will harm the adaptation or help it, or if their recent work is still up to scratch with their original work. Fandom just wants a security blanket in the form of a name on a credits list, to the point of almost cult-like devotion that makes or breaks their opinion of content before it's even released.

This devotion is how you end up with fans doing logical backflips when their perfect book accurate Percy Jackson adaptation that "Uncle Rick" promised is now changing a bunch of stuff for not very good reasons, and now they have to either do mental gymnastics to justify questionable choices or admit that Rick can be wrong.

Percy Jackson had Rick Riordan on board and that series, let's be honest here, was just fine too. It wasn't groundbreaking, it did not surpass the source material on most points (I say most because all that Sally content was inspired) and fell short in a lot of ways that have been outlined by critics more articulate than I. Some of that, I suspect, was due to Rick's fixation on this adaptation being the antithesis of the 2010 movies to the point where it feels like they refused to let the show be fun and colourful in parts where it should have been. His involvement, as a book author delving into screenwriting, cannot be proven to have been more beneficial than if he had simply consulted and set boundaries and left it at that.

And of course Joanne is a fuckwit. But even creatively, you can't tell me that the fantastic beasts movies were better for her meddling.

But back to PJO and NATLA: I genuinely feel like we got very similar end products with both shows. An underwhelming foray into live action adaptation that suffers from too few episodes and disappointing characterisation save for a few standout roles (In this case, Sally, and Zuko and Iroh), and some problems aside that each show varies on, but ultimately still delivers something entirely and completely watchable. Percy Jackson has at least a tiny bit better characterisation overall, but cannot hold a candle to the fight choreography and special effects in NATLA (partly because in PJO they had a bad habit of cutting away or writing out every time anyone was mean to do something heroic or actually fight.) And yet you cannot speak a bad word about PJO, but NATLA is torn to shreds.

Back to NATLA and the Bryke: Almost nobody, in this whole time from the NATLA announcement to airing, has made comment on the absence of Aaron Ehasz, who was not involved with Korra either. They were happy to celebrate when Bryke was involved, and mourn when they departed, but you should have been mourning Aaron this whole time, if anyone. Aaron wrote Tales from Ba Sing Se, if you weren't aware. Arguably the most memorable episode of the Last Airbender, so emotionally rich and captivating that even hearing the instrumentals of that song in NATLA brought me to tears.

So why wasn't Aaron's absence ever felt? Well, that is because the fans saw "original creators" in headlines and ran with it without question as a sure sign of victory (and then failure when Bryke departed). Because fandom doesn't really care WHOSE name is in the credits, fandom just wants that sense of security -- and it's a false sense of security, because Annabeth and Katara both still ended up gutted of their depth at the end of the day. The presence of Rick didn't save Annabeth any more than the absence of the ATLA writers doomed Katara.

[hmshermitcraft]

(Suggestive)

Grian knows of the stories about beautiful mermaids, about sirens luring sailers and bakers and clergymen to their death.

There's the story of one mermaid -he doesn't remember their name- who was hated for... not killing people?

An undead gorgon-mermaid (which, frankly, he thinks is awesome) who. Did nothing.

Nothing bad, anyways. Apparently, she always sculpted. Would draw in the sand with stick and on sides of ships and ocean-adjacent buildings with squid ink.

But for some unknown reason, she was hated extra by everyone.

"I just know she took him," a widow tells Grian while he delivers fish to her "she took my husband!" "Even though the actual mermaid who took your beloved is well known!" Is what he wants to say.

He doesn't.

It had truly been an accident, honest! He'd just wanted find where is fishing line was stuck, so he could head home for the night.

That had been his plan, wading through the shallow waters searching for it.

What was not apart of that plan, however, was for a very large, unseen hand to wrap around his ankle and pull him down into the much deeper, deadlier water.

The hand is way too strong to be human, and there's no struggle from whatever is pulling for it to be an air-only creature.

He's brought into a little underwater cave, with surprisingly thriving greenery, and an absurd amount of treasure and art.

He doesn't expect for his almost-killer to be the gorgon mermaid.

"Hello, Darling," the gorgeous- (no, she tried to kill you, bad Grian!) Giant of a woman coos. "What's your name?"

"Grian," he stammers out, choking on his spit because this woman is stunn- no, bad.

"Grian," she parrots like she's trying the name on her tongue, seeing if she likes it "that's a lovely name, fitting for such a lovely man. Sweet little star."

He hadn't seen it before -being certain you were about to die takes away some ability to think clearly, it would seem- but the zombie isn't wearing anything.

At. All.

Normally, he doesn't mind. People, mermaids included, should be allowed to dress how they want in the privacy of their own home.

But, y'know, he's never seen someone so pretty and oh void he's staring.

For using her tail to swim and doing low-effort work compared to other people, the gorgon is beefy.

She looks like she could crush him.

"Why-" he coughs, because there's still water in his nose and mouth and lungs "why didn't you kill me?"

"Silly," she curls her huge mermaid-half around him. He realizes that it resembles that of a snake, as opposed to a fish. It bends and twitches like a snake, at least, "i never planned on killing you." She finishes wrapping around him, resting her heav- no, bad, stop don't think about it, stop- on up of his head. Arms slinking around his chest.

"Then why did you bring me down here, surely killing me would be a sign of killing-talent, killing one of the most feared pirates."

"Well," she starts, "you see, i like you."

.

.

.

"What?"

She giggles (giggles!) a low 'humans are so silly' as she continues talking.

"I like you, i've seen the way you want to defend me, how kind you to the ocean, and, well, i just think you outright gorgeous," she cradles his head in a hand that is so big her fingers overlap each other. "And i think we both benefit from this."

"From what?"

"You leave, leave this town and these people who i know you don't like. You set sail for whatever place you wish, you get my art and treasure to do with what you want, and in return, i get to come with you!"

That's not an awful idea, all things considered.

He has been wanting to go somewhere else for a long time now, to leave this little town full of rude people and unforgiving policies.

"What do you get out of this? I've done too many deals to know that forming a deal without all the rules in place is a bad idea."

"I get to come with on whatever adventures you go on," she has this... look in her pret- no!- eyes that makes Grian's wet shirt feel like it's clinging tighter to his skin.

"And i get you as well. However i want."

"Uh," he says, oh-so elegant "i'm a person. That's called trafficking."

"Oh, dear," she coos, pushing his head up with a large thumb to look into her -fine, he admits it!- gorgeous eyes. "Don't feign ignorance now. Not when we both know what i mean."

It could work, he gets to pick where they go...

He could build a place for them to hold each other, a little place for them to dock.

He could figure out what food she likes, her favorite colors, her favorite sounds.

He could listen to her stories, just like how he hopes she listens to his.

"Deal." They shake hands.

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

That was 7 years ago.

For 7 years, he's been with her, in all manners.

He got to build a place for them to hold each other, a little place for them to dock.

He got to figure out what food she likes, her favorite colors, her favorite sounds.

He gets to listen to her stories, just like how she listens to his.

She swims up the side of hi- their ship, gorgeous green and blue tail behind her.

"Bedtime, darling."

"Hang on," he grunts, "trying to get these ready for tomorrow."

"That can happen later, Baby," she reaches up and snags his ankle, a familiar routine at this point, and pulls him down.

He doesn't fight it- he knows she'll win, and he's too weak a man emotionally to say no to her.

She gave hims gills somehow, on the side of his neck-

"It's something we can do to our non-sea-fairing mates," she told him "neat isn it?"

-So he can breathe under underwater with her.

She brings them into the little nook he built, the little sea-nest he made, he filled it with scraps of seaweed and pretty rocks, she filled it with treasure and artifacts and memories.

His wife wraps around him, snake-like tail fitting around him snuggly as she surrounds him.

"You know, love," she rests the hand with the wedding ring on his chest, he picks it up and kisses it "i think we should renew our deal tonight."

"Yeah?" He hums, "remind me what our deal was again?"

"I'd get to go with, on your time on the sea." She pauses, kisses his lips gently "and i'd." A kiss, "get." Another kiss, "you." A third kiss, "however i want."

His wife never fails to stun him with her beauty and way with words and actions.

"I don't have any 'no's to that" he stares at the love of his life with a look he hopes can confess his love for her, "just be gentle?"

Cleo laughs at that, with sharp teeth and clawed, too-large hands and bright eyes promising a limp tomorrow.

"Not a chance." She flips him onto his back.

TL;DR: Grian gets kidnapped and gets an undead-sea-serpent-mermaid-gorgon dommy mommy who makes sure he sleeps on time :)

Sometimes, they reminisce about their first meeting and laugh together as Grian brushes through Cleo's hair. It seems like so long ago, when Grian thought Cleo was simply terrifying ("And hot." "And hot.") Now, he knows all sides of her. He's proud Cleo trusts him enough to be vulnerable sometimes - that they can both trust each other completely. He couldn't imagine his life going any other way.

[cgetbrmj]

Absolutely screaming and losing my mind ovefr this

(this is an actual novel at this point and no one needs to read it but I need to vent about this remind myself it was real lmao)

basically, the other week I ended up needing to stay a lot longer than I normally need to in that class - which is already annoying but also means that my usual spaces had other people working in them during that time so it was even more ugh and I told this guy in my class (who I should maybe make a fake name for idk) (who if you don't know, is only a year older than me but is like working as kind of a TA/kind of media/photos/odd jobs guy??) that I was stressing about where to work since I was staying later and he was immediately just like "Okay, well we can try and find a good spot for you, or you can come and hang out in my office with me while I work on some stuff too." and obviously I say yes??? So we hung out for ages and watched some fun videos in-between working and both info dumped to each other I think lol. (and he complemented some of my drawings I was doing which is like 😭🥺🥹, ya know?) And he also let me cover *cough* Decorate his name badge with dinosaur stickers so like - change in routine? Bad. My caregiver crush? Great.

Now that on its own is like a whole thing right? Well if anyone is still reading - buckle the f up. My day today? So so bad. Awful. But this guy is awesome.

(first of all though, I carry dino stickers with me everywhere and give them to my fav people and I've done that with this guy before and this morning the first thing he did when he saw me was say "I just got a new phone case btw so I need some cool dino stickers on there, think about which ones I should put on" and I almost squealed because are you kidding me??)

I was meant to be putting my artwork up on my wall today (exams and examiners and grades all happening so so soon - your girl is not ready.) and I came to the absolutely crushing realisation when i put my work on the floor in front of the wall with my teachers that hahahahahhaha they don't all fit. I literally just can't fit all my work. and I DEFINTELY can't fit my work in the way that I had been PLANNING to for MONTHS now.

Now I am generally a fairly emotional person, but I am also autistic and this is something that I had been expecting and planned for and had envisioned as I'd been painting my artworks and now it completely crumbled in front of me and I absolutely genuinely just started crying immediately. Like it was probably a comically short amount of time from realisation to just crying my eyes out in the middle of class lol. So i start having a mental breakdown, hands on my head, shoulders hitching, breathing abnormally, the whole thing. Just fully having a meltdown in class while my teacher is like 'it'll be fine' LUCKILY my friend/too good at at making me feel little, guy is there and gang-

I could actually scream he was the sweetest person ever. He was speaking really quietly and in a really soft voice and he was like "How about you come outside with me, and we'll go for a walk together and breathe for a second, yeah?" so we went on a walk and he didn't try and be cheery or anything like that which I greatly appreciated, he just let me cry for a while and then tried to help me put into words what the problems were. and then we went back inside and he said "Let's just take a break from it and not look at them right now, we'll grab your stuff and we can go and chill in my office and get your mind off it until you're ready to go back to it." and then PICKED UP MY BAG FOR ME 😭😭 like are you joking??? I'm going insane??

So we went up to his office and he showed me some videos and info dumped a little bit about some of his fav things until I was more calm, and then he helped me with some of my other work and was being so helpful and like so nice, so much praise and he kept talking all soft and he was being really patient with me even though I wasn't talking very loud. and my legs were shaking quite bad for ages and any time it got very bad he'd tilt his head and gently tap/hold my arm and ask if I was doing okay ughhhhhh

and eventually we went back down to my art stuff (where I was like 'you're stil gonna help me right? and he was like 'yeah, that's not even a question, of course.') but he had to leave to do some work but he made sure to tell me multiple times that he'd be coming right back in a couple hours and that he wasn't leaving for good and right before he left he told me that he promised he'd be back to help me more because "I still need some dino stickers."

Anyway I ended up crying so So so so many times but eventually he came back right before I was leaving and he told me "You'll be here tomorrow won't you? Yeah? I'll see you tomorrow, you did really well today, did a really good job, just go home and rest, kiddo."

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH right?😭😭😭

like obviously he doesn't know I regress, and obviously I'm not implying that he's actually looking after me, but he is such a sweet person and he makes me feel so safe to be around, and so little when he says things like that. Like today was such an awful day and I have a headache and feel yuck from crying so much and anxiety and ugh but MAN he looked out for me so well today and is such a caregivery figure and he just does it so good?

If anyone read this, so sorry you had to witness the length of this stupid ramble of mine but I needed that out of my system. It's been a day. Also wishing that any of my fellow regressors out there can get access to a caregiver crush of their own because god is it nice, even if they aren't aware of how helpful they are :)

Do you guys remember that guy in my class who is Very good at making me feel little™? Do you guys mind if I vent about him again?

[thenotsohottopic]

Hello! I really liked your post ‘Go to Sleep” with Karl (and your other works!!) and I was wonder if you’d be down to write one with a teen!reader (they/them) who gets a cold and Karl comes over and takes care of them, despite them protesting; feeling bad for having someone do that for them; and just overall turns to a classic fluffy platonic sickfic?

(Am I projecting because i have a small cold going on? Maaaayyybe hehe)

Back In Bed

character(s): Karl & teen!reader

genre: comedy type fluff

warning(s): mentiins of vomiting, mentions of not eating

Y/n felt absolutely awful. Their body felt so hot yet so cold at the same time and Their nose was stuffy. The fact that their throat hurt just from talking didn't make it any better, along with the horribly loud coughing.

They layed in bed the entire day, unable to get up and move. They hadn't eaten anything all day, seeing as anything the swallowed would juts be vomited back out.

Y/n wanted to disappear. Their phone rang for what the tenth time that day, finally giving in they answered it.

"Oh my God, Y/n are you ok?! I've been calling you for the past hour and got no answer I thought something happened!" Karl's concerned yet relieved voice was heard from the other side of the line.

Wincing from how loud the man was they answer, their voice sounding like it was shredded to pieces. "Just sick. not really in the mood for-"

Breaking into a coughing fit, Y/n pulled the phone away from the ear, trying not be too loud before bringing it back.

"Sorry, just not in the right health state for conversation." They finished as they heard shuffling from Karl's side of the phone.

"I'll be there in about twenty minutes! I'll have water, food, and all the blankets I have!" Karl told the teen, saying I love you before hanging up.

Y/n groaned, wincing once more from the pain in their throat. If he hadn't have hung up, they would have protested against it.

After what felt like hours, the sound of Y/n's house door opening and closing was heard. Soon followed by a series of hurried footsteps.

The teen jumped when the door was flung open. They could guarantee that if it wasn't for the door stopper it would have broken a hole in the wall.

Karl was beside Y/n within seconds, putting the thermometer that had gone unnoticed earlier against their forehead. His eyes widened from how high it was. "Karl it's ok, you go back home i can-" Y/n had, once again, broken into a coughing fit.

Having brought a bag full of unknown things, Y/n saw him pull out a thing of water, making Y/n notice just how dry their mouth was. "Here, you drink this and I'm gonna go make you some soup."

Y/n shook their head, trying to stop the male before he could do anything. "No, I don't wanna burden you. it's fine, you can go."

He sent them a small smile, grabbing one for the extra blankets and placing it on top of the teenager, making sure it was covering them completely before speaking, "You could never be a burden to me. I've practically adopted you, let me do this."

With a sigh Y/n hesitantly agreed. Much to Karl's liking.

After he had returned with food, the two stayed up in Y/ns room watching movies and videos. Karl wasn't lying when he said he had basically adopted Y/n. He was always telling everyone he has an elegally adopted kid, which usually made everyone laugh despite how much he ment it.

He couldn't explain why he felt like he had to take care of them, like they were his responsibility and he had to protect them from everything. Like a parently instinct. Well that what he thought it was having he's never been ana actual parent before. However, he doesn't quite mind it.

this was- strange but I really liked the request. Hope you feel better soon anon!! <3

[sweetestlamb]

I've Got You Under My Skin Part 2

Author's note: Can you tell I'm inspired? A double fic post who is she? Dedicated to @serxeins because I know I can always count on you to read and comment and give me some good vibes.

Summary: She's not jealous.

He's not there the next day and it puts her in another foul mood, honestly who was he to invade her life like this and then leave as he pleased? She would be the one to send him away not the other way around, she was the one in control here.

She goes all the way to his house after work to inform him of this, slightly more prepared for his state of dress- he's only wearing a thin white shirt and flowy pants, both made of soft looking cotton.

"No wonder you're still sick. Look at you're wearing." She rolls her eyes at him not waiting to be invited in, he never waits for her and ignores her when she tells him to go away. It's their thing. Blatant disregard.

"That's shaming, that's no way to speak to a sick person. What medical school did you go to?"

"One that taught me to prioritize honesty over niceties."

She has more porridge but it's her mom's recipe the one she used to make when she was feeling sick and it was hard to keep anything down. She had suddenly remembered it the night before and woke up early to prepare it from sensory memory alone, she was hardly a chef but this was the only meal she could make without fail. If her eyes had prickled with instead tears as she stirred the pot that was no one's business but her own. She hadn't been able to make it for years now but for some reason she couldn't stop herself this morning.

"What's this?" He asks curious over her shoulder, his chin barely grazing her skin. She doesn't move away ignoring the thrumming his closeness elicits.

"Porridge."

"It smells good. It doesn't look like grandma's porridge. Where did you get it?"

"I made it." It's embarrassing admitting that she made anything for him, she feels like she's showing her hand far too much but can't get her mouth to stop revealing her heart.

"You're full of surprises. Let's heat it up."

He looks better now, no longer flushed and sweaty. The fever must have broken over night, he looks rejuvenated scooping the food into a pot and warming it up.

His house looks a bit cleaner today as well, the windows are open allowing a wonderful breeze to fill the space and sweep away the stench of sick in the air. She walks aimlessly until she sees a bit of material on the floor, bending to pick it up she glares at the material in her hand. It's a light pink scarf, thin and almost sheer. He has an eclectic style but this is indubitably a woman's scarf, she almost throws it on the ground in a fit.

"What are you doing?" He breaks her from her shock, walking towards her with twin bowls in his hands.

She almost hides the scarf away feeling ashamed of the searing hotness that rips through her chest like a current. But foolishly she swings her hand up presenting the offending item instead, narrowing her eyes as she peers at him.

"What's this?" She challenges, a voice in the back of her mind begs her to shut the fuck up but her anger pushes her forward recklessly.

He tilts his head looking intensely at the item before pursing his lips and answering, "I think it's a scarf."

No fucking shit Sherlock.

She looks at him unimpressed and unamused not quite understanding why she cares so much that there's a scarf- a feminine nother scarf in his house.

"I had a guest earlier. She probably left it." He replies lightly sitting their food down on the table and she follows him briskly still not satisfied with his answers.

"Give me back my porridge." She says childishly snatching away his bowl just as he's about to eat, the look of annoyance on his face brings her nothing but pure joy.

"What's your problem now?" He argues reaching for the bowl but she tugs it further out of his reach. With a long suffering sigh he stands up, stepping closer to retrieve the bowl but that move brings them chest to chest and she stares up at his bright eyes.

Bringing his hands up he touches the scarf in her hand, she drops it abruptly not wanting him to touch it at all now.

"Don't."

He stares at her long and hard, Adam's apple bobbing as their eyes lock. He shakes his head a tight smile on his face now and she wants to kiss that smug look right off his face. Wait.

What. What am I thinking?

The sound of his doorbell chiming breaks them free of this heated staring match, but not immediately he looks at her puzzled and is that something hotter, before slowly turning and walking towards the door.

"Hey, I think I left my scarf--"

A decidedly female voice sounds from the door and before she can second guess herself she grabs the discarded scarf from the ground and sashays over to the door. He looks completely surprised to see her walking over but barely reacts when she barrels next time, pulling the door open wider to see who's here to see them.

It's the new teacher that just moved into town, she hadn't yet been introduced to her but she'd heard nothing but bad things from the landlord. She was supposedly a man stealer.

"Oh! I didn't know you had a guest." The woman's gentle voice lifts in awe at her sudden arrival at the door.

"Here's your scarf." She thrusts the item fiercely at her, watching as the other woman jolts in surprise.

Du-sik looks curiously between the two seeming to feel the weird energy surging in the air.

"Miss Yoon this is--"

"Was that all you needed? We were in the middle of eating. He needs to regain his energy." She cuts him off, having no desire to be introduced to the other woman. The school teacher glances between the two of them being nodding slowly as if realizing something.

"Yes that was all. I'll leave you to your meals."

She watches as the school teacher disappears from sight, turning to walk back to the table.

"That was rude. Do you two have a problem with each other?"

Shrugging non-committally she pushes his porridge back across the space already digging into her own.

"Your meal will get cold. Stop saying nonsense and come eat."

He stares at her for a long time before retaking his seat and tasting the thick broth, she tries not to watch and wait for his reaction but it's probably a failure.

"It's delicious. I can't believe you made this."

Overlooking the backhanded compliment she hides her smile behind her spoon before looking up with a glare, "I'll never make it for you again." But it's an empty threat because she already made three containers worth in case he falls ill again.

"I'll turn off your electricity until you do."

She guffaws at the threat, grabbing the closest thing (a pen) and throwing it at him. It pings off his forehead and falls to the ground.

"Ow. That hurt."

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, no doubt her roommate asking about her whereabouts she had just suddenly disappeared out of nowhere after running out of the office. Swiping to open the phone she prepares for the onslaught of messages.

"---kiss it better."

She freezes at the words, dragging her eyes from the phone back up to his steady gaze. He's staring brazenly seemingly unashamed but the tint of red on his ears give him away, he's not at confident as he's pretending to be.

"What did you say?"

"I.....said you should kiss it better."

She has no clue what he's talking about but instinctively her eyes move down to his lips, blush pink and tempting they stand out on his pale skin. She wonders how they would feel under her own, if they would pucker up and press or bloom open giving her their sweet nectar. She wonders how many women he's kissed and if he's ever thought about kissing her.

"My forehead. I meant my forehead... because of the pen. I was just joking." He looks dazed now, still under her appraising gaze and she coughs swiftly moving her eyes and staring out the window.

"Mi-seon's looking for me. I should go."

Thankfully he doesn't comment on her running away again, he merely nods and collects their bowls.

"Thank you for the meal." She nods in response, her voice lost at the moment terrified of why she keeps coming here, what could she possibly want?

He walks her to the door, both of them dragging their feet and taking their sweet time.

"That was the worst part about not having parents."

She halts at his sudden confession, squeezing her fists tightly as she glances over at him.

"Not having anyone who cared when I was sick. It was never clearer how alone I was until those fleeting moments, there was no one to pat my back or bring me food or tell me I would be okay."

It's an ache she's used up, the ache of wanting something she'll never have. Years spent pretending she didn't miss her mother everyday. His honesty forces her own to the surface.

"That porridge was the one my mom used to make for me. I haven't made it since she...."

She doesn't finish her sentence but the look in his eyes tell her that she doesn't need to, he understands loud and clear.

"Thank you for making it for me. I'm honored." There is reverence in his voice as if he's never meant anything more in his life, it makes her heart tremble.

They don't speak anymore as she puts on her shoes and lays her bag across her body, reaching behind her he tugs the door open for her.

With a solemn nod she turns around ready to leave but a moment of temporary insanity makes her turn back and grab his shoulder for support, there's a look of genuine shock of his face before she leans onto the tips of her toes and presses her lips against his forehead.

Her cheeks are on fire as she draws back and his face looks painful from his red it is.

"You're going to be alright." With her last strand of courage she wraps her arm around and pats him on the back in comfort, his eyes are glossy and he looks years younger.

"I'm going."

She's aching to run but she walks away calmly until she's out of sight, throwing herself to the ground as soon as she turns the corner grabbing handfuls of her hair.

So much for being in control. Fuck.

[teebarnes]

✨ | A Bad Day

Click [100 Followers Fic] for the rest of the 100 follower fics :)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

Summary: You had a bad day at work and Bucky knows that, so takes this chance to brighten your bad day.

Word Count: 2k

Warning(s): Fluff, crying... I think that's about it.

A/N: Thank you for 100 followers! Plus, I mean, who wouldn't want Bucky to comfort them after a bad day? (GIF isn't mine)

⤑ Click here for my taglist to be notified when I post my future fics.

Any Likes, Comments & Reblogs are super duper appreciated :))

Locking the door behind you, you lean yourself against your door, sliding to the floor. Tears flowing down your face, you pike your knees up you to the chest, wrapping your arms around them. It was another one of those awful days at work, your face hidden in the nook you made. You slowly sobbed to yourself, trying to express the bad day you had quietly into your house as if it could listen.

The quietness of your rural home thickened the sound of your tears; you sigh deeply into your knees, attempting to catch the breath you longed for. Then, calming yourself, you wipe the tears with the end of your jumper before hearing your phone ring. A few sniffs holding the fact you were crying, you check your phone to see it was your best friend calling.

"Yellop", you softly chime to your best friend on the end of the other line. You can hear an audible laugh. "Yellop doll, how was your day?" The voice you always long to hear at the end of your days. "U-usual", you softly chocked out before continuing ", how about you, old man? How was your day?" You giggle slightly at your remark.

A long pause extended your conversation with him before he broke the silence with a soft laugh through his nose, "usual, same since we last spoke", you smile, getting up, taking the conversation to your couch. Hearing his voice had taken away any sadness you had before you even picked up the phone. "Hey, I'm coming over. I need your help," he says, which piques your interest.

"What does a 107-year-old man need my help for? I'm sure you have all the life experience you need," you joked; Bucky gasps ", ouch, my feelings… they're hurting because of you", he laughs, causing the two of you to roll your eyes at each end of the line. "May I ask what you need help with?" You sat up from the couch, eagerly waiting for his reply.

A steady silence homed their conversation for a few seconds "a date y/n… there is this beautiful woman I want to ask on a date." He sighs.

Your face drops slightly, tears rushing down your face again like the ones before. Quickly wiping the tears, you answer, so Bucky doesn't worry "a date, huh? Since when do you socialise" you half-laughed to yourself sadly. "well… doll. You see, I don't if I'm honest," you both laugh, waiting for him to continue. "But… she is amazing, beautiful, the most incredible person I've met", he boasts to you over the phone.

You couldn't help but wallow in your thoughts for a bit, wishing that it were you he was talking about. But you knew that you two were just made to be the best of friends; despite how you felt towards him, you knew he could never feel the same. It took you a while to collect yourself when Bucky spoke again, breaking your train of thought. "Doll?" Your eyes focus again on your surroundings, coming back to the reality that you wanted to run away from right then and there. "Doll, are you there?" He asks again; you clear your throat "yes! yes… sorry, yes I am." You coughed.

"I am happy for you, Buck! She will be so lucky to have you." You stand up from the couch walking into your kitchen. "I am the lucky one, actually…" he replies softly. You smile at his reply only to realise the context of the conversation before answering back to him, "Well… are you sure you need my help? I feel you have all of that covered. I don't think I could be of much help to you, Buck." You held the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you opened the fridge up to check what was for dinner tonight. "I most certainly do doll. You are a vital part to getting this right," he excitedly says; you could never turn him down.

Even after being his friend for over ten years, you still couldn't say no to him. "Geez, Bucky, you really are serious… I'll have you know, though. I haven't had a boyfriend since I met you, so I'll only be able to give you basic pointers," you laugh to yourself. "Doll, don't worry about it… as long as you're there, that's all I need." He swoons. You couldn't help but laugh, "see, buck, with that attitude, I think she will say yes." You lightly say, "plus, have you asked Steve? I'm sure he has better advice to give," you question. "Yeah, I did… no help there", he laughs.

"Okey dokes, well I'm going to take my shower n stuff… you've got a key so you can let yourself in, alright?" You say, continuing to push through the built-up tears and emotions that halted at your throat. "Okay, doll! See you shortly," he says "see ya, Buck" you smile, hanging up.

Not knowing it, but your world fell before you; you didn't want to lose Bucky to a woman he hasn't even told you about. Then again, you cared for his happiness, that is what he needed after all the trauma he had been put through. You shook off the tears sucking up the pain into your stomach, heading to take a shower.

~

Bucky’s POV

"How do I tell her, Steve?" Bucky groans, pacing around the living room, "I love her so goddam much, but I am afraid to lose her. What if she doesn't like me and only sees me as a friend-"Bucky is cut off by Nat, who is sitting on the other side of the couch reading a book. "Bucky, I am going to slap some sense into you soon. She is head over heels for you." She sighs, getting up to leave the room. Bucky continues to pace again, with Steve closely watching.

"Ask her on a date Buck. Go from there," Steve lightly says, leaning back into his seat. "Hey doll, I know we've been best friends for ten years now, but I just wanted to let you know that I've fallen in love with you since the day we met", he frustrates into the palm of his hands. Steve chuckles a bit, "sounds about right", he snorts. Bucky wide-eyed to his oldest friend. "Ahaha, so funn-" he is cut off with a buzzing in his left pocket.

Reaching in, he picks it up "oh, it's just Sam" he rolls his eyes, answering, "what's up, Sam?" Sam sighs "have you talked to y/n recently?" He asks, which immediately makes Bucky furrow his eyebrows "no, why? Has something happened?" A pause before Sam speaks, "Can you check on her, please. She had a rough day at work. I have a feeling she is not at her best at the moment." Bucky's eyes dull hearing that the woman he's in love with is sad "okay, on it. Thanks for letting me know, Sam", he let out a sigh. "I've given her the week off, but please check." He sternly asks. "You have my word Sam" Bucky hangs up, turning to Steve.

"She had a bad day at work…" he frowns before plopping himself on the couch. "Well, buck, this may be a good opportunity to take her out on a date? Or even have a sneaky film night?" He stands up, patting his friend's shoulder. Bucky gives a slight grin, nodding, "Thanks, pal".

Steve walks out of the room, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts, "okay okay okay, I can do this, I can do this." He hypes himself up, taking his phone pressing your contact that he had on speed dial.

"Yellop" Bucky hears on the other end of the phone; he couldn't help but melt to the sweetness of your voice. It was one he loved so much. It wasn't unusual to call each other; it was a religious routine for the both of you. If one didn't call, the other would. But this time, it was different; Bucky was nervous; it has taken him ten years to work up the courage to ask you out. But he still couldn't, not without seeing your face, not without being able to hold you as he said he loved you and not without comforting you first. He knew you didn't want to burden him with your troubles, so he took it upon himself to make up an excuse just to see you.

After the call, Bucky knew that you'd been hiding your emotions just to have your usual conversation with him. He felt even guiltier when he went on and on about you but never had the guts to tell you that he was talking about you.

Bucky packed a night bag from his room, packing it onto his motorbike before making his way to the local supermarket that was on the way to your house.

He picked up some of your favourite snacks and a bunch of your favourite flowers, securing them on his bike before riding to your house. Then, turning his bike off, he left it parked in your garage, heading inside. He closed the door behind him, walking into the kitchen laying the snacks on the table before heading down the hall into your room. He could hear the shower running and knew you were still in there.

He could hear you singing a soft melody of your favourite song; Bucky smiled, took his shoes off, and set them at the door in the hallway. Bucky flopped onto your soft bed with the flowers he had for you hidden on the bedside away from the bathroom door so you wouldn't be able to see them when you'd come out.

Finishing your shower a few minutes later, you wrapped your hair in a towel. Drying yourself and popping on your oversized henley, the same one Bucky had given you all those years ago when you had nothing to wear the first time you slept at his. You put some undies on and Van's socks. Using the dryer to dry your hair, you fitted your thick hair into a messy bun with your black scrunchy. "Alright", you took a deep breath before heading out to see Bucky lying on your bed.

"Oh, Buck! Hey," you smiled at him. His head was comfy on the bedsheets; he turned to see you, a bright smile upon his face. "Hey, doll," he noticed straight away that you weren't wearing any pants, something he was used to but not used to at the same time. You'd always make a fuss over going to bed with pants on; you hated wearing pants to bed. So you just opted for socks. "So", you sigh, flopping on the bed next to him. "Who is the girl?" You asked, turning your body to the side facing him. He chuckled, rolling over the edge of the bed, coming back to meet you, your favourite flowers in his hand; you both were face to face.

"You"…

~

You look at him, jerking your face back a bit in surprise but totally melting seeing the flowers. "M-me?" You reply; Bucky smiles, brushing the hair from your face nodding, "It's always been you y/n." His arm caressed your cheek, and you couldn't help but rest yours on his. You kissed the inner of his hand before taking the flowers leaving them on the bedside table.

"You know how long I've wanted to tell you that I love you" you smiled almost in tears; wrapping his metal arm around your waist, Bucky pulled your body close to his "And you know how long I've wanted to say the exact same thing" he rested his head against yours "I am in love with you y/n, I've loved you ever since I met you". You sniffled, cupping his cheek before leaning in, kissing his chapped lips; he leaned into him, kissing back "and just when I thought I was going to have to let you go, you prove me wrong," you chuckled through your tears.

He chuckles with you. "I couldn't tell you on the phone. I had to be here. Plus, Sam told me you had a bad day, so I wanted to be with you." You smiled, giving him the biggest hug. "Thank you, Buck. Thank you for doing this" he kissed the top of your head.

"You're welcome, love", he smiled.

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

Sebastian Stan's Taglist: @buckyswintersoldiermask @lharrietg @buckyfan12 @afraid-to-be-me @fairityretro

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

8!

time to install you all with a healthy hatred of immortal primeboys c!dream i've been too nice to him lately.

TW: Abuse, blood, graphic violence, manipulation, gaslighting, referenced death, restraints, torture, acid burns, mutilation, forced feeding but with dangerous chemicals, dehumanisation, infantilisation.

“Y'know, Tommy, if you’ve got nothing nice to say you should say nothing at all.”

Dream grinned before shifting his mask back down to cover his face, grabbing a vial of something bubbling off of the shelves, humming. Tommy gulped, desperately trying to pull free from the rope keeping him trapped onto the chair.

“Please- man, I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I-“

“How many times do I have to tell you that sorry doesn’t cut it for it to get through your thick skull?” The harsh sound of a slap echoed through the cell, Tommy's begging turning to agonised sobs as one of the stitches on his cheeks re-opened, blood filling his mouth as it felt like his entire cheek was again trying to unravel. “I’ve been so kind. I could have just killed you like the rest of them, but not only did I let you live, I allowed you to share in my gifts, to become immortal for me. You’re such an ungrateful fucking brat.”

The way Dream spoke of this- this fucking curse like it was a gift made Tommy sick. He didn’t want any of this. He didn’t want to die over and over in the most agonising of ways, he didn’t want to be forced to watch the ritual slaughter of his friends and family for the selfish gain of something only Dream wanted (and, oh Prime, Foolish, what happened to him would haunt Tommy forever), he didn’t want to have his only escape from Dream ripped away from him. It hadn’t even been a fucking year since he’d had this curse of immortality forced on him, and already Dream was trying to pretend it was a blessing, something Tommy asked for.

Tommy spat in Dream's stupid masked face. “Fuck off.”

Dream just sighed, before forcing the vial towards Tommy's mouth. Tommy forced his mouth shut, but Dream pinched onto Tommy's nose, forcing him to open his mouth to take a breath, and the second he did he forced whatever the horrible liquid was down his throat.

It burned, oh fuck it burnt so bad. Tommy could feel it blistering his throat, melting through it. He tried to spit it out, but Dream covered his mouth, forcing him to swallow with what little power he had left, the acid even more agonising against the burns it already made.

Tommy desperately tried to scream, but no sound came out. Even trying made the pain flare up worse, sending him into an awful coughing fit. Dream looked down at him and hummed, observing him as he violently shuddered and coughed, unable to speak or scream, like he was a fucking experiment. Tommy wasn’t sure if the awful burning feeling in his stomach was because of that or the acid. Probably both.

Finally, Tommy stopped coughing, and Dream cut the rope on the chair. Tommy took a wobbly step, and collapsed onto the obsidian floor. Dream lifted him by the hood of his hoodie, like he was a fucking kitten, and Tommy was ready to spew insults, swears, everything he thought about Dream, but no sound came out, and he settled for glaring.

“I don’t know, I think I prefer you like this,” Dream laughed. “Maybe I should get more of that, for when you heal.”

Tommy furrowed his brow further, and flipped off Dream, which only seemed to amuse him more. “You're very expressive, y’know. You look like a little kid throwing a tantrum. It’s hysterical.”

Tommy was going to fucking stab Dream one day. He didn’t even care that it wouldn’t do anything, that’s what he would do.

The only upside of living forever was that he had an eternity to do that.

[mrsmarlasinger]

(CW: anorexia/disordered eating, medication abuse, depression, death ideation)

I spent last week in Texas on vacation with my parents and sister (yeah, during the record-breaking heat wave). It was nice: eating twice a day, having dessert, eating out, trying pastries. Walking tons and wearing huge T-shirts and men's gym shorts every day, so I didn't have to feel too guilty.

Then I came home and was instantly convinced I'd gained an impossible amount of weight.

On top of that, I've recently realized that the coughing fits that have been getting progressively worse and steadily ruining my stupid life for the past 6+ weeks, finally culminating in me waking myself and my family up 4–5x per night to cough during our vacation...are an asthma flare-up, and one best treated by the five days of Prednisone my doctor prescribed me when I got really sick a few months ago.

(Which I never touched, because apparently, corticosteroids can cause weight gain through appetite increase and insulin suppression. Terrifying.)

Yesterday, after days of acute consternation, I finally succumbed and started the damn Prednisone. Like magic, almost immediately after my very first dose, my cough improved tenfold. Crazy how the medicine your doctor prescribes you actually works sometimes!

So.

The vacation. The steroid. The body dysmorphia.

Well, I've never once had trouble with my asthma until I got sick earlier this year, so I only use my rescue inhaler once in a blue moon. I've got years' worth of old albuterol lying around my room. Not like that shit expires and loses effectiveness after a year or anything.

Decided to kill three birds (the asthma, the albuterol surplus, and the so-called weight gain) with one stone. Decided to eat nothing for two days and abuse stimulants all the while.

Decided that if I did this, I could enjoy my family's annual Fourth of July BBQ (the first one my partner, posing as my "bestie" for my homophobic father, could attend!). I'd have fun and dress cute and talk to people and eat barbeque and desserts, and I wouldn't feel guilty at all, because I'd have budgeted for it.

Having been too scared to consume more than an anxious grazing session in the pantry on Sunday, I skipped food on Monday. Oh, god, I think I slammed at least half an old inhaler that day. Got so comically sick, so ridiculously dizzy and jittery, I started laughing at my trembling reflection in the bathroom mirror. Jesus, I don't puff this much albuterol in an entire year.

Despite the melatonin I took, my usual killer insomnia struck again last night (I'm sure the steroid and albuterol didn't help). I was up all night and only fell asleep long after the sun had risen, nauseous with exhaustion and aching with hunger.

Slept four hours. Woke up midday. Took my damn Prednisone.

Started tossing back albuterol and Benzedrex like there was no tomorrow. Slonked nearly half a gram of caffeine via zero-calorie drink drops.

All on an empty stomach, alone in my room.

Already I'd fasted more than the 48 hours planned. My heart rate skyrocketed from its usual 60–80 bpm to 125 bpm. I was fucking wired, jittery, anxious and nauseous and sweaty, shaking like an old lady's purse dog. My joints hurt. My dizzy head was pounding. A sort of awful feverish heat radiated from my poor quivery flesh.

It occurred to me that I felt exactly like I had that time I snorted [redacted]. Never thought my shitty, slapdash little stim stack could hit me this hard. I felt so sick I thought I'd puke or pass out or both.

All I could do was chant, "I'm going to die. I'm going to die" under my breath, then suck down another musty, powdery hit of expired albuterol.

But hey. I could see the weight I'd lost in those 48+ hours of hell.

What does it matter if I never came down for the party, never had a burger hot off the grill, never talked to anyone, just got progressively wired in my bedroom until my hand shook so bad I fucked up my lipstick?

Eventually my partner arrived and held my sweating, trembling wreck of a body, making nervous note of my tachycardia and hyperventilation as I repeated, over and over, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."

When I felt a little better, we went to root through the leftovers, and I proceeded to low-/medium-restrict on a mini kids' Clif bar, three slices of watermelon, two spoonfuls of pasta salad, and, for some fucking reason, a glazed doughnut. Panicking all the while.

And yeah, sure, I ruined my day, but what's new? I'm ruining my pathetic excuse for an existence too. All in pursuit of, what, becoming more underweight than I already am? Destroying my body more than I already have?

For a spoiled, privileged, rich little white girl without a responsibility under the sun, my life sure feels like a goddamn living nightmare.

I'm so upset.

I'm so sad.

I'm so angry.

I'm angry at the world, because what the fuck did I do to deserve chronic anorexia? I of course believe that I'm a nasty little bitch who deserves the worst of all things, but god, even I don't deserve this. No one deserves this. Anorexia is cruel and unusual punishment for the crime of possessing a tangible form. I'm only 22, and I've dealt with this bullshit for, what, seven years now?

I'm so sad. I'm so sad. I'm so cripplingly, earth-shatteringly sad.

I fasted and slammed stimulants for more than two days so I could enjoy a once-a-year party with my family and our friends (the cringe of American nationalism notwithstanding), only to starve and panic and isolate myself anyway. Now I'm hungry and sick to my stomach, parachuting kratom like it'll fix things. Like eating toilet paper and fake opiates will nourish me. What was it all for? What the fuck is any of this for?

It's not worth it. None of this is worth it. I'm miserable, spiraling. I can't work. I can't function. I'm out of control. It's not my rock bottom by a long shot—hell, I haven't even gotten my lowest weight back—but it sure feels like it. This is hell.

I just want to eat. I want to eat. I want to eat. I want desperately to eat. Please, god, let me eat. If I can't eat, let this vile disease kill me already. I want to eat. I'm so unwell. I want to eat. I'm so, so sick. I want to eat. I want to eat.

Please.

Please.

God. God. God. God. God. God. God.

[thethem]

Hello everyone,

I've been a silent observer here for some time now. But I'd love to write fanfiction again! Maybe some of you knew me from the forum under the username 'Red'. Since I am no longer active there, I wanted to post a few of my old fics and drabbles here first and then hopefully to create new ones from time to time.

So... here we go:

Irregular Orbit

For eight days now the Enterprise was crossing a dense nebula with the result that the whole crew was completely overworked. Because of many turbulences as well the bridge as sickbay were kept busy around the clock. Some crew members were overtired and small accidents happened more frequently.

This time Sulu poured a hot cup of coffee over his hand. He cursed loudly and immediately blisters appeared on the red, burned skin. The captain came by to see what was wrong.

“Sulu, go down to sickbay and let McCoy take a look.”

“I can’t leave, captain. There are irregularities on the radar.”

Kirk sighed. His helmsman held his injured hand up.

“Fine, I’ll call Bones. You need to be treated.”

Five minutes later the CMO arrived at the bridge. He gasped like he sprinted the whole way. His head was deep red and sweat ran down his face.

“Easy, Bones. This wasn’t an emergency call.”

The physician ignored the comment and went to his patient. Without a word he fetched his tricorder and healed the wound. Sulu wanted to thank him but had to react to avoid an asteroid and the ship was shaken by this evasive action. It wasn’t a massive disruption but enough to get McCoy off his feet.

Instantly Sulu helped him up and Spock came by to steady Bones who seemed to sway. “What’s wrong, doctor? Did you get hurt?”

McCoy cleared his throat and said huskily: “No. Just a bit dizzy.” He begun to cough violently and it sounded painful.

Kirk took Sulus place at his friends side and guided him with Spocks help to the captains chair. “Sit down. Breath slowly.” Bones collapsed on Jims seat, still coughing.

“Captain, the doctor is running a fever. His temperature is higher than normal.”

“Hesh’CHEW! HESHH!” Bones cupped his hands over his mouth and nose and the coughing fit ended with a strong double sneeze. With closed eyes he talked into his hands. “’Scuse me, Jim.”

“You sound awful.” Jim noted and put a hand on Bones back.

“I feel awful.” McCoy affirmed and looked up before he started to cough again. Unasked, Uhura stood up and brought him a bottle of water. Bones took a sip to calm his sore throat. “Thanks.” He wheezed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were unfit for duty?” Jim asked in concern.

“It wa… hehh… hold on…” He pressed the back of his hand against his nose. “Hnxgt! Ugh. Sorry. It wasn’t that bad before.” It was audible that he struggled with another sneeze and this time Chekov came and offered him a tissue. “Bless you, Sir."

He nodded in thanks and inhaled deeply with a pre-sneeze face while he grabbed the tissue and brought it up to his nose. “Heh’Heshshh! Hishh’chew! He’CHEW!”

Jim watched his friend while he blew his nose discreetly and then tried to get up but failed. “Still dizzy?”

Bones rubbed his eyes. “I fear it’s getting worse.”

“Yeah, you occupied my seat long enough. Let’s get you into your bed, okay? Spock and I will help you to your quarters. Sulu, you have the conn.”

“Aye, Sir. Get well soon, doctor.”

[krisdreaming]

Omg, that Iwaizumi scenario is the cutest thing I've recently seen ❤ Can I ask for the same one with Kuroo? ❤

OF COURSE omg. This is the Iwa scenario they’re referring to. I’m getting back into writing with a super self-indulgent Kuroo thing bc who would I be if I didn’t? :’) (college AU!)

Edit: 4+1 masterlist is here

-

Four times Tetsurou thinks he loves you, and the one time he finally says it out loud.

i.

The library is completely silent save for the murmur of other students whispering and the soft patter of the rain outside hitting the window panes. Tetsurou is here to keep you company more than anything. You’ve got a huge test coming up, and you’ve been studying for almost two hours now. Tetsurou had finished his chemistry assignment 20 minutes ago, so now he’s just aimlessly surfing the web. 

Bored, he glances at you over the top of his laptop screen. You’re still hard at work with your head bent over your textbook, nibbling on the end of your pen. Something tugs in his middle. You must feel his eyes on you, because after a few moments, you look up at him with a frown. “What?”

He licks his lips, then shakes his head. “Nothing. You soon done?”

You laugh. It’s one of his favorite sounds. “Soon.”

You look back down at your book, but he can’t stop looking at you. The tug in his middle has taken the form of three small words, but this isn’t the place to say them. He’s not sure he could, even if it was. Instead, he turns them over in his mind, and decides he likes the feel of them. I love you.

ii.

Kenma is laying on his belly Tetsurou’s bed, tapping away at his video game console. The soft music playing from his game is pleasant background noise now that the movie playing on your laptop has ended. You and Tetsurou are sitting on the floor, with your backs propped against the bed. He’s feeling a little giddy, most likely a combination of the lateness and all of the sugar you’d consumed.

“That was awful!” You laugh, knocking your shoulder against his. “Who let you decide what movie we should watch?”

“Kenma.” Tetsurou points up, in the general direction of his friend behind him. Kenma scowls even though neither of you can see him.

“Did not.” He protests softly. “All I said was that I didn’t care what we watched.”

“Same thing.” Tetsurou laughs even though it’s not really that funny. You join him for a little bit, but the sound soon dies on your lips, and you hug his arm, pillowing your head on his shoulder and peering up at him through your eyelashes. The remains of the smile that lingers on your face is soft. He falls silent, too.

“Tetsu, I’m starting to get sleepy now.” You murmur. He leans down to press a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Are you?” The warm affection in his voice even takes him by surprise.

“Mm-hmm.” You hum, and you slide down until your head is resting against his thigh. You close your eyes and release a soft sigh, and looking down at you a warm tingle that’s not unpleasant fills Tetsurou’s chest. I love you catches in his throat, and instead of saying anything, his fingers begin gently carding through your hair.

After a few minutes of silence, Kenma peers over the edge of the bed at you, then looks at Tetsurou with a quirked eyebrow. There’s nothing to deny, so Tetsurou just shrugs, a half smile ghosting across his face. The look in Kenma’s eyes is a little too knowing.

iii.

“Ooh, look at this!” You tug on Tetusrou’s hand, and once again he’s being pulled to another exhibit. He’d had a feeling you’d enjoy checking out this museum and the special history installation they’d advertised, but he hadn’t quite expected this level of enthusiasm. 

You are so into this. You’re stopping to read every plaque, leaning in close to look at everything on display. Other people are skirting around the two of you but you’re oblivious to it. He thinks it’s absolutely adorable.

“Isn’t this so cool?” You look at him, and your eyes are practically glowing. He wants to tease that you’ve never quite looked at him with the same enthusiasm. “Thanks for taking me here.” You continue, and your smile goes softer as you tug on his hand again, this time to bring him close enough to press a quick kiss to his lips. He can’t resist, and leans in to return the favor, smiling against your lips for just a few moments.

“Of course.” He says, shrugging as though it’s really no big deal.

“You know me so well.” You grin before turning your attention back to the exhibits, still keeping a firm hold on his hand. He gives yours three slight squeezes. If you pick up on the hidden meaning and the words he shouldn’t say for the first time in public, you don’t give any sign.

iv.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Tetsurou just manages to wheeze out, but you shake your head firmly.

“Too bad, I’m here.” You say breezily, and he’s entirely too woozy to do anything else about it. “I have medicine, and I brought some tea, that should help your throat.” You’re already bustling around the room, heating up the electric kettle and dropping a tea bag into a mug. “You still feel pretty gross, huh?”

His response is a coughing fit that he tries unsuccessfully to hold back. Immediately, you’re at his side, concern coloring your face as you unscrew the cap from the bottle of water you’d placed on his bedside stand. After taking enough sips to placate you, he sets it back down, and you reach out and tenderly brush his hair away from his flushed face. He watches as you return to the tea, pouring the now hot water into the mug. You’re humming softly to yourself as you squeeze in a generous amount of honey.

You’re so good at taking care of him. He hadn’t even asked for it, and yet here you are, making him tea and bringing him medicine and looking at him with those soft eyes. He doesn’t deserve you, but yet you’re still here, sticking stubbornly by his side.

“Here.” You hand him the mug and lean in to brush a quick kiss to his forehead. “You drink this, and I’m going to go pick up some soup, okay?”

“Thank you.” He says as he lifts the mug to his lips, smiling meekly at you over the rim as you turn to go. He loves you so much that it almost scares him.

v.

Having you in his arms again is better than Tetsurou could have imagined. Winter break had only lasted a few weeks, but to him it had felt like an eternity. “I missed you!” You breathe into his neck, and he can feel the words on his skin. He hugs you a little closer.

“I missed you too.” Finally he releases you so that he can look at your face again, trying to memorize every feature even more clearly for the next time you’ll have to be apart. You grin at him, reaching to sandwich his face between your hands.

“You look so serious.” You giggle, and he can’t help but crack a smile at that before you pull his face down to yours and kiss him one more time.

“Now what?” He asks after you pull away, not really caring what you do next as long as he’s with you.

You think for a few moments, then open the door of your dorm directly behind you and tug him inside. “I kinda just want to cuddle for the rest of the night.” You admit. Nothing has ever sounded so perfect to him.

“I love you.” He says without thinking, and his eyes blow wide almost as fast as yours do.

“What?” You ask, blinking at him, and he reaches for your hands, supposing now is as good a time as any.

“I love you.” He repeats, suddenly feeling just a little bashful. “And I mean that. You’re… amazing.” His fingers skim your cheek. “But it’s okay if you don’t want to say it back yet, I-”

“I love you too.” You blurt out before he can even finish his sentence, and he feels like he’s smiling impossibly big. 

“Yeah?” He’s searching your face again, wanting to memorize every single part of this moment.

“Yeah.” You grin. The next time he says it is five seconds later, against your lips, and he wonders how something so easy had taken him so long to say.

[bitchfitch]

Copper artfight resource

big soft boy. if a cup of spicy hot chocolate was a massive apex predator/ obligate carnivore.

mikely stabbed him the first time they met and he fell in love Instantly.

an excerpt:

Death crept through the lavish halls of a rich man's home. Old cracked paint flaked beside sun faded tapestries and over well worn wood floors. The raged leather soles of of his boots softly thumping along with the creaking of old wood that accompanied his every step. He found the room easily, following the sound of a fading cough and short not quite gasping breaths that failed to draw enough air. 

He ducked through the door and the dying man greeted him with age hazed eyes and a broad grin.

"Copper!" his exclamation carried joy even if his lungs couldn't support more than a creaking whisper, "Bastard, it's so good to see you again," he stopped to catch his breath, his eyes closing as he did so,

"And you as well," Copper returned the smile as he sat in the chair beside the bed, "But to be honest I'm a touch surprised, both that you can see anything through those cataracts, and that you would… Appreciate my presence," 

The rich man chuckled, "Not many people have hair that color, even fewer are as tall as you. I may not be able to see much, but I can still see that,"

"I suppose you're right," Copper huffs with a hand going to his dark red mess of a mane "Still, you must remember the terms of our deal and what my presence means for you now?"

"I do," he nods, "I'm going to die tonight, going to see Min again," 

"Min?"

"My wife," he smiles as he speaks of her even as his words become more labored, "That quill you gave me, I wrote a letter to the girl I had fallen in love with when we were young. I didn't know she couldn't read, so she had to get someone else to read it to her, but when she'd heard what I wrote she came all the way into the valley to slap me and call me an idiot," he laughs, "Told me we should've eloped when we were both still fresh, before she'd found another man to call her own,

I'd not even thought that she'd have gone on like that. It made sense, she could have, and did, do so much better than me. But luck of lucks saw that husband of hers dead not long after. I felt bad for being so happy, but I couldn't stop smiling when she and I married,

That quill- You, gave me the happiest life I could have imagined. I'm glad to pay my end of the deal now, because it means I get to see her again,"

"It's a rare treat to find someone with no regrets, thank you for your story," Copper smiles softly, genuine and warm,

"Oh, I've got regrets," the rich man say "Many, but I don't care to dwell on them, not now… or… Well, one, there's one,"

"Hmm?"

"Min and I, we had a fight right before… She was so mad at me last time I saw her. Do you think she still is?"

"I don't know, but you will have plenty of time to make it up to her soon,"

"Yeah, yeah that's true… It's close now is it?"

"Moments if I had to guess," Copper shrugs, "The clot in your lung is migrating and will soon block off blood flow to the area completely. After that happens you won't be able to get enough air and will… fall asleep, then you will suffocate over a few minutes. It won't be the most pleasant of deaths, but it won't hurt badly," he simplified things greatly, not caring for the slight inaccuracies so long as they helped keep the rich man calm and peaceful in these final moments.

"Any final requests?" Copper cocks his head,

"I think… yeah, I think I want to be alone for this. Thank you," 

"Of course. Rest well then, and may your sleep bring great growth" Copper stood from his seat, the blessing leaving him without thought as the rich man closed his eyes a smile still tugging on his old, withered face.

The door to the rich man's room shut with a light thud as Copper drifted down the halls, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He rarely visited the dying, usually he only came to the deceased caught between their death's and their afterlives to guide them across, and this was why. He knew where the clot was, it would only take a moment and a little bit of concentration to break it up enough that the rich man's body would be able to handle it on it's own. Sure, doing so would probably only buy him a few more bed bound days, a week maybe, but healers can rarely be trusted to leave the sick and dying to the whims of nature and he was no different. 

He wandered through the empty halls decorated with treasures that, do to a single deal made half a century ago, would soon be his, and found his way into a shrine room. Shelves upon shelves of precious jewls and metals, fine fabrics and sculptures filled the room. Though the alter beneath the stained glass window held only sea glass and shells that glittered from around a poorly made tapestry that depicted a stormy ocean.

The threads were too loose in some places too tight in others and there were places where it was clear the weaver ran out of one color and had attempted to dye more only for it to come out just wrong enough to be noticed. It was clearly made by inexperienced hands and now stood displayed still in it's loom in the place of honor on this shrine. Pride in its existence radiated from it and that made it stunning despite it's flaws. 

Distantly, he felt the rich man die, quietly and peacefully.

One of Copper's aspects would guide him across and later while Copper slept he'd dream of the conversation that aspect and the rich man would have, and he would dream of the conversations his other, near innumerable, aspects would have, and have had, and have been having with every other human who has crossed into his domain since he last slept. Then he would wake, and forget almost everything said during those conversations as they meld together into a messy but beautiful tapestry. All the threads visible and traceable in their places but ultimately he saw it not for the individuals, but the grander thing they made together.

He picked at the stones and shells scattered on one of the shelves, his dulled claws scraping against the rough surface. He should probably go find someone to deal with the body…

The soft creaking protest of a floor board that no longer fit in it's place being tread on called from behind him. Copper turned, curious to who or what would be intruding on this moment, but he was left slack jawed with a greeting trapped behind his lips as he saw the man.

Surrounded by gold and silver and precious gems that glittered in the low moonlight that flowed through the windows, this man outshone them all. He was tall for a human, coming up to just below Copper's collar bones, with broad, strong looking shoulders. His sharp features highlighted by the silver light caressing his warm tan skin and haloed by that same light echoing through the broken strands of bleach blonde hair that fell from his neat bun to frame his narrow face.

Light agitation turned to wonder and awesrrucked silence as Copper struggled for a second to find words, but once again those words died when he met the man's eyes, they were probably a deep brown but the low light turned them onyx. His gaze was sturdy, not cold or calculating, not bored. Determined but practiced.

The strange, beutiful, human man wore the expression of a butcher or a slaughterer, he did not draw perverse pleasure or joy from what came next. He was so obviously merely doing a job as he moved faster than Copper's confusion addled mind could react to that that alone struck more fear into Copper's core than if the man were hissing and snapping with rage.

The ice hot cut of an iron blade dug past the flesh between his ribs and into his chest even as he recoiled. On pure instinct he growled an awful rumbling sound that made the butcher- the hunter, flinch as Copper managed to stumble away, nearly falling to one knee as his own lung struggled to inflate. He could feel his magic burning along the wound as it tried, and failed to pull it closed. His hand going to his bloodied side in a vain attempt of staunching the flow. 

The hunter advanced, cautious and silent, his blade, slicked with Copper's own viscous black blood, raised as he followed the retreating god.

Copper hissed as his back collided with a shelf, cornered he pulled his attentions together just enough to attempt to teleport away, only to feel his magic jolt painfully within him as it failed completely.

The hunter advanced, already readying another swing.

In that moment Copper forced himself to focus on the warm summer night air, on the flickering candles and the heat of the hunter's body, most seals could be overpowered, he just needs to rush it hard enough. 

Heat leaves the room, the hunter stumbles with a pained gasp as the heat leaves him too. Copper doesn't see if the hunter falls because the seal gives as he uses all of that stolen energy to burst against it.

He drops to his knees on the cold stone floor of the cave he calls home. His blood singing through magic seared veins, his hands shaking as he braces one against the floor below him as his world swims, both from blood loss and the disorientation that always came with pushing his power that hard,

He struggles with his wound, gasping with effort as his magic finally starts working again. The wound tieing itself closed beneath his palm, a thick black scar forming as he comes down from the mountain top high of fearing for his life for the very first time since before the advent of this universe.

Copper slumps against the water-carved wall of his home, his head falling back against it with a deep buzz running beneath his skin, and he Laughs, deep and hearty and Alive in a way he has not felt in centuries.

---

A day passed, and Copper's wound still ached every time he bent wrong, sending a pang through his chest as his heart picked up at the memory that accompanied it. Truly, he could only go a few moments without thinking of the death dealing adonis that had, very litteraly, struck him to his very heart. He needed to find the man again, to see if a second meeting would make his blood race the way the first had.

Perhaps he would even find out why he'd been attacked, but if Copper was being honest with himself, he didn't care to know. The Hunter was a mystery, and like many mysteries, he was one that could be enjoyed as is, and did not need unraveling quite yet. Still, Copper couldn't wait around for fate to bless him with a second chance meeting. He needed to find The Hunter on his own, and that meant doing a little investigating.

The moment Copper had had time to rest he laid in his bed and let his consciousness drift to the aspect that could interact with the grand tapestry. The Hunter had not hesitated for even a moment, had not flinched at spilling blood, and so there was no denying that he was experienced. That, perhaps, killing was something that either came easy to him or that he was very well practiced in the art of it.

The hunter was young, maybe mid twenties to early thirties, which narrowed his search, and the location narrowed it further. That valley was a hard month long trek through ice capped mountains from the next nearest settlement. The Hunter probably lived and prowled within its confines.

Copper focused on the last ten years worth of threads from that area that ended in white knots, the tragic, violent deaths. This would be where he found what he would need.

Going by date he gently tugged the ends through the weave so that he could examine them closer. He was careful to not pull anything more than an hours worth at a time, dreading upsetting the careful balance of the fabric and the places of the souls that he examined within it. It took a few tries, a few years worth of deaths until he found the first one that he could catch a glimpse of The Hunter from. 

And oh how Copper dreaded what he saw. Five years before he'd met the man, an older boy, maybe sixteen with sharp, fearful and wild, onyx eyes and short, jagged ink black hair cried with blood stained hands, one still holding a blade, the same one Copper would become familiar with, it was still slick with the red of human blood as the boy stumbled back against the wall as the man he'd just killed gasped his last breath.

Copper found the conversation he'd had with that spirit, a man who'd heard screaming from within a home. He'd gone to help only to be found by the Chief's boy before he could find the source of the screams. Copper had reassured him, had praised him for his bravery, had not paid enough attention. He'd guided the kind man to his afterlife while the chief's boy who would become The Hunter silently wept beside the man's body, struggling against the tears as someone called out for him. 

Tucking the tread back into place with one hand and pulling another free with the other. He grimaced when he realized it was merely a visitor's thread. Someone from Copper's own home universe who'd come into this one for one reason or another only to find their end here.

The visitor's soul had not been theirs to keep stored away amongst those of their creations and so had already been returned home. Where it would have dissipated into the background energy to eventually become the fuel for something new. No life was stored in this thread, it was merely a place holder.

Copper found more threads like that in his search, nearly twenty pale threads all from the last few years lined side by side. Tragic human deaths surrounding them but none of those human deaths involved The Hunter. That was odd, very few places in his tapestry looked so strange and knotted, and most patches that did were of wars and disasters not… whatever this was.

If he had been tangible in that moment he would've been nipping at his claws as he tried to piece together what something so strange could mean. But no answers came to him.

He found the next, and most recent, human victim of The Hunter, a man now, still too young, but undeniably a man by Copper's math, cold and stoney eyed, tangled bleached hair and a badly bruised and swelling jaw. Copper would have been surprised if The Hunter didn't have a few cracked or missing teeth from the injury, the mandible itself might be broken, a serious wound that needs setting and cleaning imeaditly. Copper's mind supplied him with the diagnosis without him meaning to think of it, so focused was he on that wrecked face and the lack of answers it presented that his mind tried to give him what few answers it could, even if those answers were worthless.

The woman The Hunter had killed had sat silent and glaring at The Hunter who silently watched her die,  his blade dripping with her blood. She'd not spoken a word to Copper. Fuming as she stormed through the gate without any guidance from him.

He wished he had insisted on actually speaking to her, on finding the answers. The iron eyed Hunter was a far cry from that sobbing boy, and yet they shared a thread.

More visitors, more tragedy, and no more answers came from the grand tapestry. 

He needed to return to that valley, surely if tragedy struck this often they'd welcome a healer? Even if they didn't, the Oracle made her home at the very center, and while Copper tried to avoid his sister's emissaries, The Oracle would be able to tell him what he needed if all else failed. Besides, her daughter was such a cute little thing, it would be a joy to hold a chubby baby again. Would the daughter still be a baby? maybe she was toddling about already, having her first little prophecies as she explored the world she would be entrusted to protect.

Oh Copper couldn't wait to visit.

[i-am-here-with-fanfic]

If you're still taking requests I was hoping a bit of something self indulgent since I've been struggling lately being pretty sick. How would Toshinori react to having a female s/o that's normally pretty healthy suddenly get sick? Like it starts out as a really bad cold but processes to sometimes coughing bits of blood and having frequent asthma attacks, sometimes waking up at night unable to breath easy? I'm thinking it's pneumonia or bronchitis at this point but could use the fluff

(Well of course! This job is all about Fluffiness in bed! Coming right up:

Home Remedies (Toshinori x Reader)

Toshinori fell in love with your optimisitic self-being that he began to change subtly due to how much you influence him.

Everytime there was a problem, you were determined of what's to come.

You are strong, health-issue free. Everytime you accompanied him to the doctor's, he would feel down that you have to feel sad about his horrendous scar and health issues. Before the doctor appeared, you would kiss his lips to reassure him it would be fine.

"Look at how far you had this with you, five years beyond. This is proof that you're not giving up without a fight, I'm right here when you need me." You gave him a grin that even he smiled back.

He was prideful of being your partner. And I mean, prideful. He was more prideful than the fact that you are his, he feels mentally and emotionally better that he was by your side. His friends and coworkers have noticed that, even his successor, Midoriya was keen to notice it.

Until one day, you were chopping vegetables while Toshinori watched your cutting skills when you coughed.

That got him off guard.

You simply brushed it off, "Heh, must be the dust, I'll get cleaning after." You smiled at him, watching his face turn into a worried expression.

"I've never heard you cough before, (Y/N) what if it was something serious?" He gurroed his eyebrows, the list getting longer in his mind.

You laugh lightly, "It'll be okay, sweetie. It probably was just a one cough. Don't worry, okay?" You tiptoed to kiss his forehead.

Over the course of a week, you ended up resting in the bed, coughing every once in a while and having difficulties to breath and coughing out what was disturbing your lungs. Your chest hurts tremendously, headaches would occur from the pressure of coughing. You rarely slept because of the coughs. Toshinori was worried, very worried. You were getting sad because he was worried about you. You kept smiling at him with how you could, "I'll be fine, Toshi. It'll be over-" and you coughed in your arm, the nasty raspy cough. He was by your side with the glass of water, rubbing your shoulder, feeling awful not knowing what to do, "We should go to the doctor, (Y/N), please."

You saw he was genuinely worried about your health, how you physically look weak, with bags under your eyes, slightly palish.

"Okay...I'll go, only because you asked me..." You rubbed against his cheek, while he leaned over you to kiss it.

That night, you woke up wheezing, getting the blanket off your body to take as much air as your body needed, but need to cough. Toshinori was already wide awake to rub your back gently, worried sick about your well-being, mentally begging to take you to the clinic. You chest had multiple sharp pains as you whimpered. You nearly waved your hand desperately for jt to end, you dont know why you almost flail your hands around, only to feel a skinny hand to grab a hold of it.

He breath slowly as you slowly regain your breaths, slowly but surely. After minutes passed by, you nodded towards him, "...I need to go to the clinic, babe-" you coughed, "Please take me.."

~

After coming back from the clinic, you were exhausted and you couldn't help but almost rush to the bed. Only, even considering the walk to the bed made you groan in pain as you slid your feet on the floor, making your way to the bed. Toshinori held his breath and picked you up, bridal atyle to your bed.

You smiled small, cuddling against his chest, "You shouldn't...*caugh* force yourself so much, I must be very heavy." You kissed the skin you saw peaking underneath the shirt he was wearing.

"You're not heavy, sweetheart," He placed you in bed, covering you with blankets, "The only thing that is heavy is my heart when I see you in pain."

It was quiet, you blushed, couldn't helolp but smile the slightest, well, okay not really, you couldn't help but smile, kissing his cheek and quickly covering your mouth with your arm, "You're so poetic, Mr. Yagi. Okay, I'll give in...you can get inside with me."

He chuckled the slightest and got in the bed with you. You two stared at each other, you couldnt stop smiling with pain behind it, and Toshinori had his mind filled with clouds of pessimist thoughts.

"Toshi, I'm gonna get you sick, babe." You fumbled with his fingers, caressing them slightly.

"Just try aiming in my mouth." He got closer to you, nearly pressing against you.

You laughed which turned into a coughing fit in your shirt.

He wrapped his long arms around you, releasing a deep breath, apologizing for making you laugh.

You felt his hand rubbing your back, you know, where lungs uncomfortably are making your body not have the oxygen you need so bad because there was fluid.

"You keep saying everything will be okay, and it's hard for me to believe in that when the person I love has helped me find the motivation to continue. How do I have that motivation when I see you in pain?"

You coughed a bit more before responding, "Well, if motivation is what you need, just hope that I will get better, just like how I hope I get better so I won't see you so worried." You cuddled up against him.

You both nuzzled against each other, a thing you both do silently when you need the safety, the reassurance.

You hear his troubling breaths as he constantly struggled to breath with just ONE lung, while you also had difficulties breathing from pneumonia.

You were so comfortable in the position that when you closed your eyes, you fully trust that your partner was going to be there by your side, you know he was going to be by your side no matter what. You had that effect on him, just like he had that effect on you. You coughed once again, before he whispered with his eyes close, nuzzling against your face with his cheek, "I'll have hope that you get better, sweetie. I'm proud you're fighting with so much strength like you always do, (Y/N)."

You gently placed the softest kisses on his neck, before you began to rest thanks to the medicine you needed.

"Thank you, babe. Let's fight together..." You smiled small and he held your hand, almost symbollically of not letting go, "I'll be here."

"I know babe.." You responded, "I'll wake up with a smile, okay?"

He kissed your forehead, "I'll be happy, rest now, you need it."

As you fell asleep, he began working on his thoughts. He wanted you to feel better, he did! He wanted you to stop feeling so much physical pain that he was going to change his attitude towards things. He thought that if he send you many positive thoughts, that it would help speed up your recovery.

He whispered to you, multiple whispers:

"You'll have bad days, just like this, but it's why you have your head up, because you're not afraid to fight."

"I love how...even how you fell ill, it doesn't affect how you think."

"This must be hard on you, and I'm sorry I'm selfishly thinking that you should get better for my sake, but be better for yourself."

"I hope that you get a lot stronger now, you look so adorable when you sleep so peacefully."

You moved slightly to hug him better, smiling at hearing his whispers to push on against the problem you're having at this moment.

"This will be over soon, and I will get to see that beautiful smile."

"I hope my home remedies will help you recover faster."

And as you were about to ask what home remedies he was talking about, he kissed your forehead, cheeks, lips, every inch of your face he kissed and you blushed, feeling incredibly happy, really hoping for your pneumonia to end very soon.

((A/N: I hope you get better soon and you liked the story!)

[hurt-care]

I've had an idea rolling around in my head about an archaeologist, typically one who works in the desert in Egypt, who has a crazy terrible allergies that make going in and out of dusty/moldy tombs a nightmare. I don't know if that's anything you might want to write about, but I don't have the talent and I love your work, so I thought I'd put it forward in case it did something for you!

Okay, so this one immediately sparked my imagination! It isn’t exactly what you described but hopefully close enough!  Enjoy

-

The jingle of a cell phone ring broke through the cloud of white noise coming from the air purifier and the AC unit. Thom rolled over and reached for the phone, almost knocking it off the bedside table as he fumbled sleepily.

He squinted at the display and toggled the slider to answer.

“Mhm? Hello?”

“I'm out front. It's ten past.”

Thom sat up with a start and blinked at the clock across the room.

“Oh fuck. I'm sorry Asha, I overslept. Give me a few and I'll be right down.”

He kicked off the sheets and tore through his closet in the small flat for a fresh pair of khakis and a thin linen shirt. He splashed some water on his face and ate a banana quickly while he refilled his water bottle and searched for his baseball cap. Thankfully, his backpack was still stocked from the previous day of work, so he slung it over his shoulder, grabbed his keys, and raced down the two flights of stairs out into the busy Luxor street.

Though it was barely seven, the sun was already blazingly hot. Asha sat, idling her motorcycle and chatting with a street vendor.

“Sorry, sorry,” Thom said as he approached.

“Doctor Rutledge is gonna kill us,” she said, pushing her helmet back down and handing the spare one to Thom. “Let's go.”

Thom sided onto the bike, put on the heavy face-shielded helmet, and took hold of Asha's waist. The bike roared to life and they sped off towards the dig site.

He'd first met Asha two months ago when he'd come to Egypt for his practical experience under the tutelage of renowned Egyptologist, Doctor Emila Rutledge. Asha was a daughter of Luxor, born and raised in the city and her knowledge of its winding streets and the surrounding archeological sights had proved very useful. She was a local assistant on the dig, helping with some of the more tedious sorting and packing of artifacts. And her motorbike was a much faster way to reach the desert than taking a bus and then walking.

They turned down a street leading out of the city and towards the Theban Necropolisdig site. The bike slowed as they turned down the side road and came to a halt where the road turned to sand.

They tugged off their helmets, the sweat dripping down their faces drying instantly in the arid climate. With Asha pushing the bike, they walked the last bit down the sandy path to the tents that marked the research areas.

Thom blinked in the dry air and rubbed at his left eye, turning it a little pink. As they ducked under the canopy of the first tent, he cleared his throat and took a deep swig of his water bottle.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, capping the bottle and putting it back in his pack. “It's my fault. I didn't set a proper alarm.”

Doctor Rutledge looked up from her table of equipment and glared at him.

“There's limited time out here during the storm season,” she warned him. “Don't waste it being late.”

March and April in the desert meant sandstorms and sometimes they struck unexpectedly, plunging the camp into a fog of dust and undoing weeks of excavation work. Thankfully, none had hit the site thus far in the season.

Thom set down his things and turned to his work, Asha at his side, cataloguing a tray of rocks that had eroded off a nearby statue.

“You alright?” she asked, looking at him critically. “Your eyes are kinda pink.”

He blinked and rubbed at his left one again. They did feel a bit gritty.

“Still half asleep,” he said. “Didn't have time for coffee.”

She laughed.

“You'll have to suffer until break then.”

Thom nodded and made a mark in his notebook about one of the artifacts. He rubbed the back of his hand to his nose distractedly, pawing away an itch.

In the distance, the air was growing murky and dim as a far-off storm kicked up sand into the air, turning the sky an unworldly red.

His throat felt drier than usual out in the heat of the open desert. Putting his notebook down, he reached again for his water bottle.

“You sure you're fine?” Asha asked suspiciously. “Your eyes look awful.”

Thom pushed his water bottle cap shut and opened his mouth to answer her, but he was distracted by a sudden, very urgent itch. He wrinkled his nose and turned away, cupping his hands to his face.

Hurh-TSGHT!

“Blessings to you,” she offered.

Thom sniffled and wiped at his nose. He could feel the familiar burning of an allergic reaction growing in his respiratory system and suddenly his stomach sank. In the haste of his departure that morning, he'd neglected to take his allergy medication.

He'd always been someone who struggled with allergies, to everything from cats to pollen to mold and dust. His youth had been full of inhalers on the sidelines of the soccer pitch, extra allergy pills packed for sleepovers, and his own air purifier for his college dorm room. Adulthood had not improved things as much as he'd hoped. He'd expected that the dry air of Egypt would be a relief to his hayfever, but he'd been warned about dust-storm season and the large amounts of pollen and mold and dust kicked up by the strong winds. The local pharmacy had put out a display of face masks only a week prior.

“Oh shit,” he groaned, digging through his backpack. Maybe he had some spare pills stowed away.

“What?” Asha asked.

“Ugh, my allergies,” he said, sniffling again. “I forgot my medicine this morning.”

“Wow, you really did fuck up the start of your day,” she teased. “You have allergies? Bad ones?”

“Yes, bad ones,” he said, reaching to the bottom of an outside pocket and feeling his rescue inhaler. At least that was some relief. “Bad enough to need a prescription daily.”

“And it's storm season,” she said. “The worst for that.”

“I've been told,” he said miserably. He could feel his eyes beginning to water and he ran his tongue along the top of his mouth and back towards his throat, trying to settle an itch.

Hhrr-TSGHHT!

He sneezed roughly into his shoulder.

“Well,” he said, pulling a bandanna out of his pack. “This might help a little.”

He tied the triangle of cloth over his nose and mouth, tucking the excess into the top of his shirt.

“Very mysterious,” Asha teased. “My work partner, Zorro.”

Thom went back to his notes, but concentrating was extremely difficult. He wrinkled his nose under the bandanna and tried to focus on his work, but the itching was too strong.

Hehh-ehh-GSHTT!

A damp spot blossomed on the bandanna under his nose.

He clamped a hand over the fabric and pinched his nose, turning away from Asha.

NghT! Hehh...eh-TSGHT! Tsh'GXHT!

Three rapid stifles tumbled forward, held in by his fingers.

Tsgh! Ehh-TSGH!

“Wow,” Asha said, watching. “You were not kidding.”

“No,” he said miserably, letting go of his nose. “This is pretty mild, actually. Usually I...I..hehhh...heh-TSGHT!”

He sneezed once again into the bandanna and tugged it free from his face, using it as a proper handkerchief.

“I'll ask around to see if anyone else has some medicine,” Asha offered. “Sit down a minute.”

He sunk into a camp chair with the bandanna over his nose.

Hehh-ehhhh-GSHTT!

By the time she returned, his breath was growing wheezy and his eyes were swollen. He coughed hoarsely into his fist and swallowed hard.

“No luck,” she said.

“What going on over here?”

Doctor Rutledge was standing behind them, looking expectantly at them both.

“Thom is having an allergic reaction, Doctor,” Asha explained. “I was looking around to see if anyone had any medication.”

“And?”

“No one does,” she said. “I'm sorry, Thom.”

“That's okay,” he croaked. “I just need a minute. I—heh-SGHHT!”

He sneezed thickly into the bandana and pinched his nose before giving it a sharp blow.

“It's storm season, Thom,” Doctor Rutledge said. “The longer you're out here, the worse it'll get.”

Ehhh-GSXHTT!

He was starting to feel the strain in his lungs and he fished in his bag, curling his fingers around his rescue inhaler just in case.

“I think you should go back home, Thom,” Doctor Rutledge said. “It looks like the winds are headed this way.”

He could barely see her through his watering eyes.

“Are you sure, doctor? I could go work in one of those more covered tents across the way.”

“No, that isn't necessary. Asha, will you get him home?”

“Yes, I'll do that.”

Doctor Rutledge turned to head back to her work as Thom launched into another fit.

Ehh-tsxSHTT! Ngh'GSHT!

Thom curled in on himself, sneezing rapidly.

Tsgh-GSHT Tsh'GHT! TXGHT!

He blew his nose hard into bandana and surfaced from the fit with a wheezy gasp.

“Hold on,” he croaked, raising the inhaler. “I need this first.”

He took a puff and breathed in the medication, holding it in as long as he could before he started to cough and exhaled nosily.

Asha sighed sympathetically and held out her water bottle. He took a deep swig from it and thanked her.

“Let's go before you get worse,” she said.

They returned to the motorcycle, going slowly along the path because of Thom's swollen eyes. He shoved the helmet over his leaky face and climbed on the bike behind Asha.

The ride back into Luxor was a blur of exhausted sniffling and two very unpleasant sneezes inside the helmet before they pulled up in front of Thom's apartment.

“C'mon,” Asha said gently, taking his arm and leading him inside. He started to climb the two flights of stairs but on the first landing he was forced to pause as another fit took over, wrenching him forward with several forceful sneezes that tore out of him rapid-fire.

Hurhhh-TSGHHH! Ngh-TSGHHT! Hehh....ehh-TSCHHH!

They staggered up the next flight and into Thom's flat. He swallowed two of his prescription pills from the medicine cabinet before slouching down into his sofa and taking another puff of his inhaler.

“I thought leaving England would be the end of all this mess,” he said miserably.

“Oh no, we've got all our own special allergens here too. Storm season is infamous. I'm sure you've been told.”

“I have,” he said. “I probably would still be a bit of mess with my prescription, but I can't believe I managed to forgot taking it at all!”

“I guess we'll see,” Asha said. “There's two months of this dust. Maybe invest in a mask. Lots of people wear them this time of year.”

Eh-TSCHH!

Asha shoved a box of tissues across the coffee table towards Thom.

“And maybe invest in a few more of those too. Sounds like you might need them.”