#lmk if I should put any other tw tags here

[mirage-of-the-virtuoso]

Right, so, now my brain has gone down the rabbit hole of "what are dangerous thing that Siren (NMC!AU Chrysallus for anyone unfamiliar) to be playing 'fuck around and find out' with?"

And, honestly? Quite a few things. Chrysallus in his canon story has always been one to toy with dangerous substances, either for experimentation or for use in personal life or combat missions. That's how he learns how things affect people.

Siren did that to himself to cope with a lot of things, and to try and find something to stabilize himself in the unhealthiest of methods.

For example: remember the auric dust found in Auric Basin? That are basically the remains of fallen Exalted? Siren fucked around with that. Still determining what the exact consequences would be, but consensus says "very badly".

Bloodstone dust has always been deemed very bad as a substance. He would also fuck around with that, see how it alters his mind. Bloodstone Fen made it much easier, given that they go straight into the heart of a bloodstone explosion.

He would later fuck around with Brand crystals from Kralky and his minions. It wouldn't be unusual for him to be experimenting with them, but there is massive concern over why his hands have burn marks suspiciously like electrical patterns on his skin.

IBS in particular is when he slips the furthest into identity crisis again, and what does he do? He experiments with shards of crystallized dragon blood, with Jormag's blood. Those who don't know what I'm talking about: I'm talking about these

Icebrood Corruption tonics. He discovers that dragon blood can be altered via ectoplasm in order to turn it into make it into a drinkable tonic. This should never have happened. But Siren's already too deep into a rabbit hole of insanity, hopelessness, and copium: of course he drinks it.

At first, it was harmless. At least, that's what he felt. Maybe he felt colder than usual, but nothing to do harm. And it allowed him to sleep for longer periods of time, get some much needed rest.

But once the effects wore off, he felt this need to drink it again, just to feel stable, to feel at peace within his own mind. And the more Siren drank the tonics, the more it began to change his body.

And soon after, one tonic wasn't enough to feel balanced anymore. The whispers were getting louder, were telling him to relapse, to give in to his darkness. After all this time, Siren couldn't afford to do that all over again. He can't allow history to repeat itself.

But the damage had been done: his skin took on a strange blue hue unlike his own, almost frost-like, barely reminiscent of the creatures he's fighting up in the Shiverpeaks. And withdrawal effects from cutting himself off of those tonics were like freezing hellfire in his body. He was sure that it would kill him if he didn't take another tonic soon.

Someone does notice, and others are compelled to intervene lest their greatest warrior turns his blade onto them, though this causes a lot of conflict within the ranks. It's only out of sheer determination that Siren's not killed outright for what he did.

The most they can do is treat the withdrawal effects until they bring him to Aurene. Maybe she knows how to help the wayward champion that felt so disconnected from the world around him that he resorted to drinking literal dragon blood liquified by ectoplasm in order to cope, even if it was slowly killing him from the inside.

[rosesnink]

Five Stages of Grief Series: Anger

Author's Notes

Yoohoo, guess who's hereee!!! Anyways, I missed writing for Blades, and I needed some training for certain events going on rn (which I haven't begun but shhh). I hope you guys like my vision of Imtura's rage and grief, and that if you want to be tagged in next parts, lmk!

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

If you want more fics of Blades or even have our MCs interact, hmu!

There will be another part of the other three stages of grief which will include Mal, Tyril and Aerin (and a special one with Valax too hehe), if you want to be tagged in a LI's specific fic, tell me in the comments!

Likes are nice, but reblogs keeps a post alive and the fandom dynamic going!

Summary: Imtura Tal Kaelen doesn't want to learn how to live without her dearest friend.

Word Count: 1.7k

Category: Female rage, angst, death, group fallout

Pairing: Imtura Tal Kaelen & F!Orc!MC (friendship)

Rating: PG-13

TW: Alcohol abuse, violence, grief

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

What the hells.

What the hells.

WHAT.

THE.

HELLS.

Those were Imtura’s very first thoughts upon Brienne, her dear friend, being abducted by a weird purple creature.

As Nia dropped to her knees, Imtura’s horror was instead replaced by anger. She was about to leap after her, but the vortex was already gone.

She let out a blood-curling grunt “Why didn’t any of you move?!”

“Not now, Immy…” Loola tried to calm her down.

As they took Nia to her chambers, her green fists whitened in her palm. Why were they fussing over the priestess?! Brienne needed them!

“That’s not fair, Imtura,” Tyril had pointed out when Imtura hollered that “we need to find her together, and she’s hurting. We all are.”

“Hurting why? Less hurting and more hunting down the bastard who took her and bring Brienne home!” She shouted.

“And where would we start, hm? We’ve no idea where she is, what took her, or where to start. Do you plan to barge into every place, axes blazing, and demand they hand Brienne over?” Mal tried to reason… to no avail.

“Why not?! It’s better than sitting our asses here and play a pity party!”

Tyril finally snapped in his usually fancy boy manner “Then you do it. We will find reasonable places where she’s been abducted and send you a message when we do find her.”

Imtura threw her hands up “Maybe I will!”

She left to her room, where she kicked the bed and screamed again, then started gathering the little she had packed from home. If one could call Flotilla home. As she turned around, Threep and Loola were perched on the desk, looking at her.

“I don’t have any treats for you. Tell the others I’m off to search for Brienne.”

“You really should not.”

“Loola’s right. Your plan can’t and won’t work. You need the others.” Imtura snorted “It’s true. You need Tyril’s knowledge and fighting skills, Mal’s cunning and Nia’s Light magic for you to survive on your own.”

Imtura seethed, but let the nespers say their piece “Threep has a point. Separated, the search will be a disaster, but together, you four can make it work.”

“Maybe. If Brienne were here to keep us together. Because she’s not here. The reason we put up with one another is because Brienne was here because…” she sighed, tears prickling in her eyes “because we all loved her enough to do that. And now she’s not here.”

Loola observed her “So you only loved Brienne? Only Brienne was your friend?”

“I—no! Yes! I don’t know! You’re confusing me!”

“Mal never made you laugh? Allowed you to let loose? Drank ale with you and shared adventuring stories?”

“Yes—,”

“Tyril never gave you sage advice and guided you through all of Morella? Kept you grounded and focused on the mission?”

“I mean, yes, but—,”

“And Nia never tended to your wounds, made you smile when all was dark and listened to you when you needed a willing and non-judging ear?”

Imtura’s shoulders slumped “…Yes. She did. They all did.”

Loola perched on her shoulder “Just because Brienne’s gone doesn’t mean that everything you went through with them didn’t matter or impact you. Yes, maybe you loved Brienne most, but you love all of them, and them you, and you can’t do this without them, just as they can’t do this without you. They need you, and you need them. They are your friends. Not for a long time, but for a very important time.”

Imtura softened and scratched Loola’s chin, who purred in response “Thank you, Loola, I… I think I needed to hear that.”

“And have some sense knocked into you.” Threep added.

“Don’t push it. But yes,” She smiled.

Dropping her bag, she went downstairs, to the library, where she knew they were, planning on rescuing Brienne. She sat down beside Mal and looked with renewed confidence and resolve at Tyril “What’s the plan?”

Tyril smiled briefly and nodded in gratitude to her “Whatever took her doesn’t look Morellan, so it’s safe to say we need to look outside its borders. We’ll begin with…”

Kade whispered in her ear “Brienne would be proud of you.”

She allowed herself a small smile.

She hoped she was.

For three months after Brienne’s disappearance, Imtura felt hopeful. Despite the dead ends and the pointless fighting that were responded with a sincere ‘we do not have or know where your friend is’, Imtura maintained hope. She wanted to. Because Brienne had always been a beacon of hope. Of resilience. Of persistence. She’d never give Imtura up, ever. And neither would she.

As they slept on the tent, Imtura smiled at herself thinking of the few, but precious time that Brienne and her shared a bed. She knew that she wasn’t Brienne’s type –she had noticed how elf boy and the priestess made eyes at her – but was alright with being a good shag and an understanding friend whom she could take the baggage she didn’t want to give anyone else. Besides, nobody was married off to nobody. There’d be plenty of time to figure out what each of them wanted.

“Hmmhh, Brienne…” Tyril mumbled.

Oh great, she thought, now elf boy’s pining for her in his dreams.

There was no jealousy or envy in her tone, but an amused and nostalgic sentiment. Brienne had also whispered Tyril’s name sometimes in her sleep. She sort of giggled when it sounded like they were recreating that one myth between the she-orc and the elf who had such a good shag, the fancy elf needed bed-rest for days. She teased Brienne endlessly for it, and they both had a laugh about it.

Six months. Six bloody months, and still no sign of her. Not a single trace. As if Earth had swallowed her.

Maybe earth did swallow her, an intrusive voice of hers mused.

Shaking her head, she continued talking and trying to be cheered by Mal. They still had a laugh, but with the void of Brienne being so present between them, sometimes it felt hard to do. She missed how she looked back at them and shook her head, laughing to herself.

Walking forward, she reached Mal, who was oddly quiet “Do you think this is it? That, this time, we’ll find her?”

Mal sighed “I hope so. I want it to be.”

Imtura’s face fell “But you don’t believe it is.”

He looked at her with a tired, pained look “I’m trying to, Immy.”

She patted his shoulder “…I am too.”

On the eighth month, she got fed up. The anger she felt back then was back, and this time, there weren’t any wisdom nespers who could convince her. She was dead in a ditch to never be found, and they were all loosing time.

“Alright, elephant in the room, I’ll address it: Bree’s gone, probably dead in a ditch and we’re running, hic, circles.”

Tyril seemed to sigh, but with her blurry vision due to the obscene amount of alcohol she had drank, she couldn’t see much. But the image of Brienne in an unmarked grave was there, alright.

“… would’ve known. Tragic news travels fast. …would’ve found her.”

“She’s not… would’ve found her.”

“And how come nobody in the continent have heard, hmm? Easy, she’s dead and all of this for nothing.”

Mal got up angrily “… don’t get to disregard Brienne’s life…”

She could hardly hear it. There was only one thought in mind. She was dead, and there wasn’t anything else to do.

“Brienne wouldn’t want us to waste our time with her death. So why delay it?” She barked, easily sizing up short Mal.

“… not dead.” Nia said.

She pointed a wobbly finger at her “You don’t know that, because, flash news, the heart and soul thing is bullshit! She’s dead, she’s not coming back and it’s time we own it.”

Elf boy, who had been awfully quiet, also got up and slammed his large hands in the desk “…so keen on burying her alive… carry on… true friends…”

“Fine!” She blurted out.

Then, she got up and left, hot, angry tears in her eyes.

She walked, and walked, and walked, and walked until her feet gave over, and she threw up the alcohol previously ingested in concerning amounts. Gasping for air, she leaned against what it seemed like solid rock, and allowed her large body to collapse.

When she woke up, she realized that her axes were gone, as well as her coin and part of her armor. Grunting, still with her head throbbing, went to the nearest pub. She could hear “Bloody hell, who wants ale at three? These drunks… Oh wow, that one looks like hell.”

“Hey. I, uh, slept outside last night and my weapons and purse are gone.”

“And what do you want us to do about that, hm, orc?”

She realized, she was far away from home, with next to no money or way to contact her mother or friends. Idiot, she thought.

“A… job would be nice?”

“I’ve enough barmaids, and you ain’t lovely enough to fire the others. Seems like ye can’t cook either, those hands ain’t for the kitchen.”

“I… can fight. I used to be in… Clan Nagoni! Fierce fighters, gave Ventral Tal Kaelen a good shake before going down.”

The barkeeper hummed, looking at her up and down. She probably smelled like vomit, cheap ale and had her clothes ragged and dirty.

“Let’s do one thing, she-orc. If ye take care of a certain customer who won’t pay his beers with a scare, you’re in as our source of entertainment.”

“Just tell me who you want dead,”

And thus, for the rest of the year, she worked at that bar, fighting all sorts of creatures, always trouncing one after another. And she liked that routine. She drank. Then, she fought, won and drank even more as people sung her praises. Sometimes, she could see glimpses of Nia and Mal, and even elf boy, but the only clear image was of Brienne, her dearest friend, dead on a ditch, with nobody to visit her grave or take her back to the Elements. As she gulped another horn of ale, she wiped with her arm the foam and lunged at the strange beast, ready to take out some anger and take off such grotesque image of a dead Brienne that chased her at night most.

[albaqae]

☆HI IM ALBAQAE/ALBA☆

☆Feel free to send me asks w doodle ideas, cool facts abt anything, music recs or whatever else you’d like :D☆

☆Trigger Warnings (TW)☆

I ALWAYS put any warnings in titles of my posts (if I slip up PLS lmk asap!!) , but a lot of my art has gore, bright colors and themes of angst, so please be mindful when cruising my blog <3

☆rad cool stuff☆

My reblog landfill is @birthday-cake-rockz in case that’s smth you’d like, it’s mostly rottmnt ahahaha (started also collecting graphics!)

Pronouns: any tbh but “they” would be nice :)

From: VENEZUELAAAAAAA🇻🇪🇻🇪🇻🇪🇻🇪

Languages: Spanish, English and ASL!(not super fluent tho)

fandoms: I’m in a LOT, but here’s main ones I interact w here :)

Fixiating over tmnt rn! (Including mutant mayhem, idw tmnt, 2012 tmnt, 2003 tmnt, and ofc ROTTMNT), I also like dhmis, welcome home, atsv, undertale, moomin (books/comics, 90s), mcr and tøp, good omens, bee and puppycat, snoopy ofc, FROGS ISNT A FANDOM BUT STILL, ROTBTD and HTTYD and ROTG super recently (also hijack), and a myriad of other stuff. My focus on each just tends to be on constant, unpredictable shuffle and this is my vessel to put it out to the world :)

☆TAGS☆

If u wanna see specific fandoms then just the fandom + fanart should work (e.g. #rottmnt fanart)

#alba draws - my drawings, doodles and the such :)

#yakko mi amor <3 - drawings or anything of my dog

#alba analysis - theories abt fandoms im in and cool facts bc funni

#alba asks - any interaction (mutuals too!!!), mostly asks, asks I made to another, or reblogs too

#alba landfill - literally anything else, so thoughts mostly

#alba gifs - silly little gifs I make

^^^not finished bc my Tumblr likes to lag^^^

Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

Graphics by @void-darling-deactivated2023111 and blinkies.cafe respectively, under cut more graphics I find pretty even tho idk creators, if u do lmk!

[fishysos]

artist info:

My name is Scott/Sage, I'm 19. I've been drawing since I was in elementary but only started posting art during like, 2017? almost strictly on instagram. however due to erm. recent events involving ai, I've decided to move here! yay.

I've mostly used this blog to repost sims cc i like, and i'm ngl i'm still gonna do that, so just ignore it, i'll tag it sims4cc for ease.

I use krita for all of my drawings, I'm primarily a digital artist but i might MIGHT post traditional sketches from time to time. I made my ocs in about 3rd grade? and they're very dear to me.

This blog is gonna be mostly someplace to put things and ramble, but i've been known to fall off the earth sometimes.

Other than my ocs I'm into JJBA, Overwatch, Fallout, Elder Scrolls and Sims (2-4), but I'm most likely not gonna be drawing anything for any of those fandoms.

If there's anything I ever need to tag like a TW or CW just lmk, I really don't mind, a big part of my ocverse revolves around death, murder, mummification and abuse, so ig you should be warned of that, so yeah!

:)

[zesstie]

ok, i just need to put out there that this is the first time i've ever written something relatively close to fanfiction, so it's shitty and a little ooc for some of the characters (especially keith ngl). anyways here a small klance oneshot but it's dialogue only!! btw no tw that ik of, but lmk if there's something i should add a tw for! it was written as a school project, so there shouldn't be anything!! enjoy my shit writing, everyone :)

L: “How- how did you find me?”

K: “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re joking, right?”

L: “Uhhhhh….. yes?”

K: “Oh my God you’re being serious, haha! Wow, I did not take you as the dense type.”

L: “Hey! For your information I am very perceptive when I need to be!”

K: “Yeah our lives are kind of in danger right now? I’d take that as a time where perceptiveness is needed! And you obviously didn’t take that perceptiveness into consideration when you practically announced to the world where you were going due to how loud you ran.”

L: “..Touche.”

K: “Anyways, do you have any information on our enemy?”

L: “All I know is that we’re outnumbered. By, like, a lot. We’re the only ones left.”

K: “...Oh.”

L: “Yeah, how’s that for perceptiveness!?”

K: “Point taken, but this isn’t the time to argue! The enemy could be close and be ready to snipe us, and we can’t afford to lose this war.”

L: “Alright. Do you have a plan?”

K: “Well, you know how I said they could be ready to snipe us at any moment?”

L: “I think I see where you’re going with this, K.”

K: “Thankfully, we have a sharpshooter of our own. The only way we can win at this point is to ambush them. They’ve got 5 people, right? I think I’ll be able to pull off leading them together with some distractions, and once they’re all together, you can pick them off from above.”

L: “This is going to be so fun!”

K: “Remember to stay serious, L… But let’s destroy them.”

H: “Dude, we’ve been walking around for forever and there’s still no sign of anyone. Did we take them all out? I feel like we would have known if we took them all out.”

P: “Yeah, we would have. They’re either really good at this or have no clue what to do, and I’m going with the latter.”

*TING, TING, CLATTER*

H: “What was that? P please, what was that?!”

P: “Calm down!! Finding out where they are is literally our job, H. It sounded like it came from roughly 10 o'clock, but from above due to how long it took to hit the ground. Let’s go back east and tell the others”

A: “H, P! Why are you two over here? I thought your orders from S were to stay separate from the group.”

H: “Yeah, well we know where the enemy is and it's literally on the complete other side, soooooo yeah.”

P: “One of them dropped something, and I thought I heard someone quietly curse under their breath, so they’re def disorganized. ”

C: “Awesome, S isn’t terribly far away so we should regroup and come up with a game plan.”

A: “Let’s go then! We must win!”

K: “Beep. They’re heading over to their leader now, L. You in position? Beep.”

L: “Beep. Never been more ready, K. Beep.”

K: “Beep. Alright then, good luck. I’m counting on you. Beep.”

S: “C just filled me in, great job on finding their location H and P.”

A: “P said that what they dropped sounded like it came from above, so we should ambush from behind and on the same level, instead of from underneath.”

C: “Sounds reasonable enough to me, does anyone have anything else to add?”

H: “Nope!”

P: “Nothing here, let go get th-”

*PEW PEW PEW*

S: “What?! They’re behind us? Everyone, ready you-”

*PEW PEW*

S: “....”

A: “....”

C: “....”

P: “....”

H: “....”

Comms: “TEAM RED HAS WON THIS ROUND OF LASER TAG. PLEASE EXIT THROUGH THE WEST DOOR AND DROP OFF YOUR GUNS AND GEAR AT THE PREP ROOM. WE HOPE YOU HAD FUN PLAYING THIS LAST ROUND OF LASER TAG.”

L: “Woooo Hoooooo!!! K, Did you see that?! I totally had them!”

K: “Yes! Great job, L! I knew you could do it.”

P: “Are they….. Actually getting along? I thought for sure their arguing would be their downfall.”

S: “Well, we’ve just got to not underestimate them anymore. Good game guys, you proved us wrong.”

A: “.... Yet again.”

K: “Don’t forget about the bet, guys!”

L: “YES! Free lunch, I can’t wait to meet you!”

[hiraganasakura]

Pinned Post

Hi! I'm Hira (she/fae/crow) :D

I'm autistic and am currently jumping around between multiple major hyperfixations, most notably including Warrior Cats and RWBY at this time (though more may be soon to come), with Pokémon being a constant. A bunch of other stuff is here too tho, including Ace Attorney, Octopath Traveler, and Minecraft, among other interests! This is all subject to change at the drop of a hat, however, for my brain loves latching onto new interests

Tone indicators aren't necessarily required but are appreciated! That being said if you don't like the use of tone indicators pls lmk upon talking to me

This place is mostly reblogs with a sprinkling of original posts every now and again. Both are tagged accordingly

I don't have the spoons to put IDs on everything I reblog but more recently I've been trying to get into the habit of adding them to any applicable original posts! I try to reblog images with IDs if the image has one

If you notice I have you blocked pls don't take it personally, I tend to block pretty liberally (but I don't exactly enjoy doing it)

Spoiler tags:

RWBY

"rwby9 spoilers" (spoilers for RWBY Volume 9, including stuff from the trailer)

"rwby9" (anything related to RWBY Volume 9, block if you want to go in 100% blind)

"rwby9 epilogue" (stuff related to the cut RWBY Volume 9 epilogue)

"arrowfell spoilers" (spoilers for RWBY: Arrowfell)

"rwby arrowfell" (anything related to RWBY: Arrowfell)

"rwby beyond" (stuff related to RWBY Volume 9: Beyond)

"rwby beyond spoilers" (spoilers for RWBY Volume 9: Beyond)

Octopath Traveler

"octopath 2 spoilers" (spoilers for Octopath Traveler 2)

"octopath traveler 2" (anything relating to Octopath Traveler II)

"octopath traveler ii" (same as above)

Trigger tags:

Tagged as "tw" followed by the trigger (example: "tw bugs")

If I don't tag smth that you think I should pls lmk!

Things that aren't necessarily triggers but are tagged with the following for filtering purposes:

long post

large text

small text

colored text

gif warning

video warning

flashing

eyestrain

unreality

shipping

reblog bait

undescribed

DNI: Bigots, exclusionists, nsfw blogs, pedos/MAPs. More may be added but I don't wanna put a massive list here if it's avoidable. I check blogs that interact and so I'll notice and block on sight if you break my dni; honestly it's less of a dni and more of a "if you're on this list and I notice you I'll block you" type deal (I'll also block you if your dni applies to me to prevent accidental violations of it)

The info on this pinned post may be subject to change just to lyk

I hope you enjoy your stay here!

Pfp credit (link)

Banner credit (link)

[icycoolslushie]

THG Thomastair AU

“I wish we could find sanctuary,” Thomas said. “You know, with shelter and such.”

“But Thomas,” Alastair said, “you are my sanctuary.”

TW/CW: If you're reading this, you've probably read The Hunger Games books or watched the movies so this has the same stuff as in them!

Idea // OG post // Ask

Disclaimers: This has headcanons along with snippets. Hopefully it's not OOC. Any Persian is what my Iranian friend told me. I like to headcanon that all the districts have their own language. Warning: The plot might be non-existent. Also, if you see any kind of mistakes (grammar, spelling, etc.) please let me know! Kinda long :)

Thomas is from District 7

Alastair is from District 11

The president is Josiah Wayland

The Head Gamemaker is Maurice Bridgestock

Eugenia is part of a group to overthrow the Capitol

Barbara and Oliver died in a previous Hunger Games

It was like it was in the books

Alastair used to be in a relationship with Charles Fairchild, son of the mayor of District 11, Charlotte Fairchild

Risa is Sona’s sister so Alastair’s aunt

Alastair volunteers for Cordelia

Cordelia struggles with him and finally says in “I love you” in Persian (dooset daram) before Alastair goes on the train

Cordelia is like Prim

Alastair’s mentor is Ragnor Fell

They be sassy together

Thomas’s mentor is Charlotte

Alastair’s stylist tells him Alastair should dye his hair back to black

In the opening ceremony, Thomas dresses as a tree and Alastair thinks how Thomas makes “a boring costume look beautiful”

Alastair has a suit on with leaves embroidered on it which Thomas later tells him “it was like nature blessed you”

Jem may or may not be an Avox Jem is Alastair’s Avox

Thomas Tanner is Thomas’s Avox

For training Alastair throws spears and pulls a 8

Thomas uses a broadsword in training and pulls an 8 as well

Thomas gets a compass rose tattoo from his stylist for the interview

The arena has a structure that looks like the Eiffel Tower at one end

The arena is covered in forests, except for the Cornucopia

When the canon sounds, Alastair runs toward the Cornucopia and escapes with a dagger to the forest

Thomas runs straight (ha!) into the forest

9 children die in the initial bloodbath

Alastair and Thomas both spend the night in trees about ten minutes away from each other

In the morning, Alastair hears rustling and eventually confronts Thomas

They first try to kill each other, but then they hear someone else and work together to fight the District 9 male tribute

Alastair puts his dagger at the tribute’s throat and stabs him there

Alastair doesn’t want to partner up and vice versa

“Alastair—I think you’d be a great person to team up with, but I . . . I don’t want to team up with you. I don’t want to team up with anyone. We—we might survive till the end, and then—” “No, Thomas, I understand. We’ll pretend this never happened. We’ll go our separate ways.” Thomas nodded, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Part of him had been hoping Alastair would disagree with him, even when it was reasonable. He ignored it and set about laying the food they’d gathered.

But they gather food and decide they’ll have a meal together and then go their separate ways

They make a meal of some fruits they find on trees and on the ground

Thomas just cannot eat the celery

They part ways

By the second night, fourteen people in total are dead

Thomas goes to the Eiffel Tower structure the next day

He climbs onto the first level and greets Alastair

Alastair’s leg is wounded

Alastair explains that the Careers fought him

The Careers include Augustus Pounceby and Clive Cartwright

“Tell me. Tell me who hurt you. I’ll kill them.” Alastair had never seen anyone so angry on his behalf that it unnerved him. “It doesn’t matter, it was the Capitol—” “Don’t,” Thomas said quietly. “Don’t try to downplay it. I want to make them pay.” Alastair paused. After a minute he said, “It was the Careers. The District 1 and 2 tribute. Augustus and Clive. They climbed onto here and started fighting me. I gave Augustus a good cut on the arm and Clive a nice scar on his cheek but they overpowered me. Augustus stabbed my leg. They left laughing.” “They didn’t finish you off?” Alastair shook his head. “I think they . . . wanted me to suffer. It isn’t like I can go anywhere, and I have no allies, so probably wanted to come back tomorrow and then finish me off. But it’s not like I’m going to last that long.” The last sentence caught Thomas off guard. “What?” “Aren’t you going to kill me?” Thomas thought about the District 1 tribute, Augustus, who had been saying that Barbara was weak before the Opening Ceremony. That Barbara, who had gotten him out of a scuffle with a Peacekeeper, was weak. That Barbara, who had volunteered for her cousin in the Reaping, was weak. He thought about the hate he had felt for the Career. Then he thought about graceful, elegant, bleeding Alastair in front of him, the way he had hugged his sister, the way he guarded himself, and decided. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Thomas bandages Alastair’s wound

“Alastair, you’re hurt. Please let me wrap your leg in leaves and vines.” “Thomas, you don’t understand. I’ve always bandaged my own wounds. It’s not going to change now.” “Sometimes,” Thomas said, “it’s better to let others take care of you. They do a better job than you realize. Alastair, please. You’re bleeding. Let me help.” Alastair saw something in Thomas’s eyes: truth. He thought back to how many people would want to help him: his father, his mother, his aunt Risa . . . when he was young. As he grew up, all of them faced the same cruel system and all of them were expected to take care of their own wounds. Now, here was someone willing to help him when he should be killing him. It gave Alastair such a feeling of care and belonging that he nodded. It wouldn’t hurt to let someone take care of him for once.

They eventually decide to team up

Thomas makes a meal out of things he finds in the forest

He and Alastair eat it

Alastair heals from his wound

By that night, nineteen people are dead

Augustus, Clive, and the District 8 female tribute are still alive along with them

Alastair takes first watch during the night, Thomas takes the second

Alastair gently moved his fingers across the compass rose tattoo that Thomas had gotten from his stylist. He felt Thomas’s pulse. He promised himself that that pulse would go on even when his own didn’t.

The next day Alastair and Thomas set off (Alastair’s leg is healed)

Augustus and Clive are waiting for them

Thomas kills Augustus, attacking with A LOT of force

Clive gets a good hit on Thomas with a sword on his left arm

Alastair and Clive fight, Clive flees finally while he’s bleeding from a dozen cuts

Alastair bandages Thomas’s wound with leaves and vines

“I love it when you say my name. Say it again.” “Thomas—Thomas, you’ve lost too much blood. You’re going delirious.” Thomas sighed softly. “I would go delirious if that meant I could hear you say my name one more time.”

They get a sponsor gift: a whole meal of steak and sides, which they finish that day

When Alastair bites into an apple, Thomas wants to kiss him

Both of them fall asleep at night

When they wake up, they’re in a prison; a Capitol prison

They were in prison. But even if they were in hell, Alastair wouldn’t have minded. They were together.

They lie in each other’s arms, seeking warmth

“Why are we in prison? What did we do?” Alastair demanded, getting up as Josiah Wayland stuck his ugly face in front of the bars. President Wayland’s lip curled. “It isn’t you that did something, it’s your family.” Thomas gasped sharply. “Eugenia.” The president smiled cruelly. “So you do know her crime.” Thomas swallowed. Alastair put his hand in Thomas’s. “What did my family do?” Alastair asked, trying to change the topic. “Why, your sister did the same thing,” Josiah Wayland said. This time Alastair gave a sharp gasp. Thomas squeezed his hand, and Alastair drew a bit of comfort from him. But his mind was on Cordelia, his little sister, what would happen to her— Wayland, the monster he was, smiled wider as he saw Alastair and Thomas despairing their sisters’ fate.

Cordelia joined the same rebel group Eugenia was in

“But why are we here? What did they do that you had to take us out of the Games?” Thomas demanded when he had finally calmed down. It seemed that all the Lightwood siblings would all die in their youth. “As soon as they are in our custody, they will be executed. In front of you two. Everyone thinks the two of you killed each other. After they’re dead, both of you will be executed.” Thomas swallowed. “Why? Why will you execute us?” “Your sisters should have thought about your safety before they did what they did. At least you’ll be able to tell them goodbye. If the executioners give you the chance,” President Wayland added before he gave another cruel smile and left.

Thomas and Alastair despair over their and their sisters’ fates

“We’ll fight them. I don’t care. We’ll fight the Capitol. We’ll make them pay for what they did to Barbara and Oliver and Jem and Will and Tessa and my mom and every single person they hurt. We’ll make them pay, Alastair.”

Thomas sighed. “If only we had hope.” “I don’t think about hope, Thomas. I think about you. You’re my hope.” And now I’m going to lose you, Alastair wanted to add, but he didn’t. And then I won’t have any hope left.

“The odds were never in our favour, Thomas,” Alastair whispered, closing his eyes. Then he added softly, “And they never will be.”

Letter addressed to Alastair Carstairs, District 11 male tribute of the 56th Hunger Games, from Charles Fairchild, son of the mayor of District 11, found crumpled in a trash bin of the Training Center floor 11

Taglist: @della-vacker-supremacy @themadhatter999 @writeforjordelia @theenchanteddreamer Also tagging @jurdan-my-beloved who originally requested the headcanons and @youngreckless Lmk if you wanna be added or removed!

[squishmallow36]

The Princess's Bride

Word count: 3.1k

Tw: I guess two minor characters end up dead by the end, but it's fictional in the scope of the story. Like it's fictional inside of the fiction. It'll make more sense if you read it.

Notes:

- @dandilicn I was your secret gift giver! I know it's a couple of days early but I couldn't let this wait in my google drive anymore. I hope you like it! I tried to include as many of your favorite ships/characters/tropes as I possibly could without making it feel forced.

- It's a linhiana sickfic where Biana is telling Linh a royalty AU that we're all going to pretend isn't directly inspired by them. Also includes background sokeefitz, ravioli, and queerplatonic Tamex.

- Ae/aer Biana uses lots of pronoun puns so lmk if that makes it difficult to read. I almost made aer ‘princaess’ in the royalty AU portions but I thought that was hard to read. Also featuring He/xe Dex and He/hym Tam. I would've made hym no pronouns but it's already hard enough to keep track of everyone when you can't use names in the royalty AU

On ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/37059451 lmk if the link decides not to work) or below the cut! 

Should I start a taglist? This is the 3rd oneshot I’ve written. @silveredviolets you asked to be tagged for any gift exchange thing

    Biana stands outside Solreef, trying to slow down aer breathing. Those stairs are a little excessive, even to someone who has played countless games of base quest against aer brothers.

   Although we don’t talk about Alvar anymore. It’s just easier to ignore him.

   Pushing the thought out of aer head, Biana knocks on the door, listening to the soft tinkling of the wind chimes.

   What did Sophie say they were? Beetles? Not sure how those would make music but I’m sure she knows what she’s talking about.

   Tam opens the door after a few seconds, and ae is almost certain he checked who it was before he says, “Hey.”

   “Hey yourself,” ae replies.

   “I’m going to guess you’re here for Linh.”

   Biana nods. “Yeah. Considering she’s my girlfriend and everything.”

   Linh moved part-time back into Solreef after Tam came back from the Neverseen. Partially because she didn’t want to leave hym alone with Glimmer. And partially because her parents are insufferable.

   Tam steps back and lets Biana in.

   “Be careful. She has a whole mountain of tissues in there.”

   “I know. I hailed her fifteen minutes ago.”

   “I’m just saying, don’t get yourself sick,” Tam replies.

   Biana gives hym a withering look before marching off toward Linh’s room.

   Out of the corner of aer eye, Biana sees Tam get back into hys room and ae can feel the woosh of air as he closes hys door.

    Ae ignores Tam’s asocial teenagerness by pushing Linh’s door open and asking her, softly, “Hey. How are you doing?”

   Linh looks up at aer from a heap of tissues. “Wonderful,” she deadpans, sounding horribly stuffy. Much worse than over the Imparters.

   “Right. Dumb question.”

   “What are you doing?”

   “Coming to bother you, of course.” Biana sits on the edge of Linh’s bed.

   She smiles softly, and blows her very red nose.

   “Scootch, girl. I’m hanging on by a single buttcheek here.”

   Linh moves closer to the other edge, smiling wider.

   Biana adjusts so ae isn’t falling off the bed before putting her arm around Linh. “You know, I used to be sick pretty often when I was younger.”

   Linh snuggles her head into aer shoulder, whispering, “You? Sick? I don’t believe it.”

   “I mean, I’m convinced it was mostly allergies. All these plants and all their pollen equals clogged sinuses. And clogged sinuses meant I couldn’t sleep for the life of me. And I didn’t know the word allergy until Sophie and her limbium allergy. But my Mum always used to tell me a story whenever I was sick.”

   Linh sniffles in response.

   “I never got to the end. Always ended up falling asleep. Somehow. Also, last time, I was, like, eight. So I don’t remember any specific storylines.”

   “I’m sure you’ll piece something together.”

   Biana smiles. “The point is, this’s just gonna be vaguely inspired by that.”

   “Sounds like you’re just going to take the idea and make it much, much gayer.”

   “You’re not wrong in that assumption.” Biana takes a breath. “Once upon a time, there was a princess. Aer beauty was known throughout the kingdom and beyond.”

   “That princess sounds like someone in this room.”

   Biana laughs. “You weren’t supposed to figure that out. Oh well. Anyway, there was a rumour following aer around that aer parentage wasn’t quite what the king and queen wanted to claim.”

   “So you’re trying to disown your father?” Linh asks.

   “As the all-knowing narrator, I’m not sure if you get to know this yet, but, well, the princess’s father is the king so, no, I am not trying to disown him in this story as much as I want to.”

   “But that means he was the one sleeping around.” Linh blows her nose.

   “Have you done any research at all on any king of your choice? Of course he was. Anyway, the princess had two brothers.”

   “Brothers or half-brothers?”

   “Technically half-brothers. Legitimate children of the king and queen,” Biana clarifies. “When it came time for the older brother to get married, at the ripe old age of sixteen, the kingdom was prosperous and in a strategic location, so it was easy for the king to find a match for his son.”

   “Ah, yes. Arranged marriages,” Linh mutters.

   “Exactly. The night before the wedding, the older brother disappeared mysteriously, never to be seen again by anyone relevant to the story, along with a servant who he’d been friends with for a very long time.”

   “And they were roommates.”

   “That was never confirmed in the kingdom, but the all-knowing narrator says yes,” Biana laughs. “This hurt the kingdom’s reputation, as just going and losing a prince isn’t a good mark on your security system.”

   Linh giggles.

   “Then, a few years later, it came time for the other prince to get married off. Now, class. Do we think this went according to plan?”

   “Well, you wouldn’t be asking if the answer was yes. So I’ll say no. Nothing ever goes to plan.”

   Biana smiles. “Very good. I knew you were the smart twin.” Ae presses her lips against aer girlfriend’s forehead. “This brother, instead of running away, tried to argue with the king because he had chosen his own partners. And, yes, I mean partners, plural.”

   “Polyamory for the win.”

   “The younger prince and his childhood friend both fell for the same girl, so instead of solving the triangle, they just basically said, ‘well, that works too’. The king did not like this, despite him having an absurd amount of unacknowledged girlfriends that we don’t talk about. He stripped the prince of titles and told him to take his partners and leave without issuing an official order to banish him because then the people would know. And that would hurt his precious reputation.”

   Linh interjects, “Side note: Princey’s boyfriend’s dad also disowned all of them when he was told.”

    “That is also correct. And then their girlfriend’s dad was very, very angry about all of this. Especially the fact that they’re all living in his house and eating his food with exactly zero life skills except for making out with his daughter and/or each other.”

   Linh laughs.

   “Where was I? Nobody knows. What is a plot? Oh, right. The king just ran out of sons, so he was forced to turn to his daughtaer for taking over the kingdom after his passing.”

   “That’s worded ominously. I hope nothing bad happens to him,” Linh remarks with as much sarcasm as her clogged sinuses will allow.

   Biana smiles. “The announcement that the princess would be inheriting the kingdom did absolutely nothing but bring the rumours of her parentage into the spotlight. There was a not-small portion of the kingdom that was convinced that the princess’s mother was from near where Carthage used to be. Well, it actually spread beyond the kingdom’s borders because what’s a rumour that doesn't spread outside its confines? Most of the origins of the rumour can be traced back to a certain blonde servant that the princess totally liked at one point.  I’m not sure what evidence is there, but it doesn’t take a whole lot to convince some people of conspiracies like that. What aggravated this was the king and queen playing off the princess’s tan skin as a result of playing lots of unladylike sports.”

   “I mean, ae is able to tackle aer brothers without even trying, so...”

   “Not wrong. But this solution didn’t satisfy people. I mean, as the all-knowing narrator, that really sounds like a coverup if I’ve ever heard a coverup.”

   Linh coughs, and Biana thinks ae hears ‘The council’ in there somewhere.

   “This rumour, and the fact that both of the king’s sons did not get into a politically-beneficial marriage, especially after one disappeared the day before the wedding, was not great for the princess’s marriage prospects. Because the king couldn’t think of anything else. You would think that the princess being pretty plus aer claim to the throne would bring in droves of old men with lots of money. Unfortunately, the kingdom’s reputation in the last decade combined with its struggling economy, did not have the desired effect.”

   “I’ll do it,” Linh volunteers.

   Biana feigns a gasp. “My own girlfriend abandons me, the all-knowing narrator, for a princess. I am--I can’t blame you, honestly. But, the princess knows that the king is just trying to find aer a rich husband to save his previous presentation, so, naturally, ae gets extraordinarily picky.”

   “Naturally,” Linh nods sagely before blowing her nose.

   “I mean, aer bar doesn’t have to be that high to refuse them all. When the king thinks all hope is lost, and he might actually let his youngest spawn that he still believes uses binary pronouns run the kingdom,--”

   Linh feigns a gasp.

   “--he gets a letter in elegant handwriting.”

   “Why is the kind of handwriting relevant?”

   “Because it shows the writer of the letter was able to afford a good education. Being able to write was not yet normalised in the kingdom, so it was probably the same wherever the letter writer was from. It was signed with a single initial of L and a crest the king wasn’t able to find in any library he could get his grubby little hands on.”

   Linh snorts, which makes her have to blow her nose.

   “The king invited the letter writer to come to the castle through plot convenience, and when he showed up, the princess was very angry that aer father was still trying to marry aer off. Ae thought ae was out of the woods in that department. Ae avoided both the king and the supposed letter writer for at least a solid week before ae was forced to have a conversation with hym.”

   “How terrible. A whole conversation.”

   “When they met formally, the princess noticed that the letter writer has clothes that are all black. Before you ask, that’s noteworthy because matching clothes are a sign of a lot of money, but they look like they’ve been through a lot. So, obviously, he used to have money, but apparently not anymore. That was a few points in hys favour, already. At one point, the princess asked about the family crest on the letter. The letter writer explained that he was from the other side of the silk road, so it would make sense that hys family crest hadn’t gotten into the books quite yet. Considering that he didn’t want to claim hys family, he was in no hurry to correct it. Some time after that, the letter writer explained that the actual letter writer was hys twin sister and he was very angry that she went and did that. And now he thought he was cleaning up her mess even though she was just a disaster sapphic.”

   “And this is how it gets gay,” Linh mutters.

   Biana laughs. “The princess and the letter writer’s brother went on tolerating each other for a while before the letter writer finally convinced her brother to let her meet the princess. When the princess was told of this, ae was a little hesitant because of what aer father might think, but, honestly, ae didn’t have anything better to do. So the letter writer’s brother brought in hys sister, and everyone was led to believe that the princess and the letter writer’s brother who really needs a better reference name are actually mildly liking one another. So the king starts mentally preparing himself for marrying his daughtaer off to this random dude. At least he’s slightly better than the average peasant. Even if the king can’t verify hys identity.”

   “He can also probably hear you through the wall.”

   “He’s probably listening to music so it doesn’t really matter. When the princess and the actual letter writer met, they didn’t like each other much. The princess was mostly angry that the letter writer was pretty and fried her little bi lesbian brain but didn’t realize it because of heteronormativity in mediaeval times.”

    Biana feels Linh laughing silently on aer shoulder.

   “This just made the letter writer even more determined to get to know the princess. Because she didn’t know how to take no for an answer. And, eventually, the princess had to admit that maybe the letter writer wasn’t so bad.”

   “Thanks.” Linh blows her nose.

   “They actually managed to not out themselves for a good few weeks, an eternity in mediaeval times, I mean, just look at Romeo and Juliet. They met each other, got married, and died within, like, four days. I mean it is a fanfic so timelines make no sense, but still. The original canon took a few months if I remember correctly.”

   “Romeo and Juliet is a fanfic?” Linh asks incredulously.

   “Yeah. It’s based on The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet, first published thirty-something years earlier. Why do I know that? I blame Fitzroy. Back to our sapphics. They were glaringly obvious because there is not an AU where they are not disaster sapphics, so the people started to get suspicious of why the princess was spending so much time with this random girl. And by people I mean that blonde servant that Biana used to like. And liked aer back. And thought that ae was avoiding her because ae didn’t feel the same way. It was a whole thing. So, the servant girl just started leaking mostly harmless palace secrets. As you do.”

   “And this servant girl was very mad that her meddling resulted in the princess getting a girlfriend. Who was also pretty. Objectively, of course. Gotta ignore those gay thoughts.”

   “No thoughts. Only arson. While the princess and aer girlfriend were living it up in the castle, this was spreading around the kingdom, and it made the king suspicious. By that I mean he went and scheduled the princess and the letter writer’s brother’s wedding because he has less self-control than his younger son’s boyfriend.”

   Linh giggles and blows her nose again.

    “Can you get the box of tissues off my desk? I have exactly one left,” Linh asks, waving around her last tissue.

  Biana attempts to free aer arm from aer girlfriend, and Linh shifts just enough to let aer move, inevitably making her have to use her last tissue.

   Biana grabs the half-full box of tissues off the desk on the opposite side of the room before slipping aer arm back around Linh.

   “Thanks,” Linh whispers.

   “No problem. Now, where were we?”

   “King Alden is trying to make his sapphic daughtaer marry aer lesbian girlfriend’s twin brother.”

   “I never said his name was Alden.”

   “It was pretty obvious that you were basing him off of him.”

   “Somehow I never caught the parallels when I was eight. It just adds to the authenticity. Back to the story. By that point, the letter writer’s brother had obviously found himself a redheaded, royal family-hating, queerplatonic boyfriend who was extraordinarily angry for about a half second when the wedding was announced. That’s not really plot relevant but it’s an infinitely important detail.”

   “Yes, of course.”

   “This convinced the letter writer’s brother to persuade the princess to come clean to the king. Because he sure as Exile wasn’t going to get married to hys sister’s gaerlfriend. That’s just a little too much. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, coming out to the king did not go well, but he didn’t really have a choice. He had run out of children to expend. Unless, you know, he went and found another illegitimate child, that is. But there was really no good way to verify any claim to the throne, so it’s basically picking a random kid off the street. And that, class, is how you would start a revolution in your kingdom.”

  Linh agrees, “That, and taxes. Mostly taxes.”

   Biana smiles. “Yeah. The king was forced to accept that the princess was going to marry aer girlfriend, although he denied reducing the guest list. As if Biana hadn’t already memorised the entire binder someone’s been in charge of carrying around since ae was, like, three. Side note: the king’s sons learned of this somehow from whatever little hidey hole they were living in, and they were nothing short of furious. Until they both separately came to the conclusion that they were better off not having to deal with their father.”

   “And they were very correct.”

   “Yes, yes they were. The younger son’s girlfriend attended the wedding, though. Both of her boyfriends figured she wouldn’t be recognized and she’s also just a little bi. So, you know. You’re not going to stop her. And, of course, the letter writer’s twin and hys queerplatonic boyfriend were there, despite xor constant protests about why he wouldn’t go to the palace and pretend for five seconds that xe didn’t completely detest everyone in there. He lost that argument.”

   Linh blows her nose.

   “The new couple lived happily for the next few months. Mostly because the king refused to see his daughtaer and aer new wife. That’s a very easy way to improve life exponentially. And, just so you know, he is not using ae/aer for his daughtaer. Like the king would ever do that. Assuming ae actually told him. Which ae did not. Before ae could, the king fell over and died of a stroke at the ripe old age of forty.”

   “As you do,” Linh yawns.

   “So the princess inherited the kingdom. Something something current queen something something royal bloodline something something. That means our sapphic queens are running the place, which is how all governments should work, I tell you. It was great. Gay marriage was made legal for the general population, and within a few years, like, half the kingdom was queer in some way. People kept moving there from all of the surrounding kingdoms and you’d think it would cause a significant population increase, but, no, all of the homophobes got scared off. Also, the punishments for being any sort of queerphobic ranged from a fine of up to twenty-five sheep to imprisonment.”

   And this is why I should be a councillor. World problems solved.

   “The new quaen also made aer brother and his boyfriend and girlfriend move back into the castle while simultaneously forgetting aer other brother. Somehow the pretty blonde servant who knows all of the rumours found out that, supposedly, he died. And the new quaen’s brother may or may not have been involved.”

   Biana pauses, waiting for Linh’s commentary.

   When it doesn’t come, ae looks down to find her asleep.

   Ae smiles. I knew I could do it. There’s nothing like a long, rambly story to put someone to sleep.

   Oh wait. I can’t move my arm.

   Biana considers for less than half a second before deciding, Worth it. There are worse punishments than your girlfriend drooling all over one of your favourite tunics.

   Ae smiles before brushing a strand of silver hair away from Linh’s face and pressing a soft kiss against her forehead.

   And they all lived happily ever after.

[amintyworld]

Wilbur's Crows - A Dream SMP Drabble

A/N: Have a little fluff for the soul, featuring Phil's Chat! - Minty

TW: Crying? (Lmk if I need to tag anything else!)

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

Sunrise bled through the white curtains, slowly melting away the peaceful starry night into a new day. Creatures stirred out of their slumber, and monsters retreating back to the darkness from whence they came, a few slowly turning to ash and bust. The smell of burning flesh ran potent through the forest, a smell that meant safety to those living within, a smell they were more than used to, blind to. The ground began to warm under the sun's gaze, the cool breeze of night turning to warmth. A warm hug mother nature gave to her children, easing them away from dreamland.

Beside a window, a crib rocked slightly back and forth as a breeze blew through the room. A messy brown-haired tyke held a teddy bear protectively to his chest, sleeping soundly. The light growing brighter behind his eyes, he shifted uncomfortably. Finding no relief, a noise of annoyance rose from his throat as he buried his face into the stuffed animal.

Swiftly, hearing the distress, a few black crows landed on the windowsill overlooking the three-year-old. Some brandished shiny necklaces they wore as a badge of honor. Some were simply bare. A crow to the left of the other two put down a shiny glimmering rock from its beak down by its feet, putting the gift aside for now. Looking to the side, the left crow could see the one on the far right putting down a large chunk of a diamond before the one in the middle met its gaze. Together, all three stared down at the toddler in concern for a moment as the small human squirmed, his chest heaving in breath like he was about to cry.

The two crows looked to the right one with the badge, wondering what they should do. The right one hopped over toward the headboard of the crib, taking in the child. Then, they let out a loud call. "Caw!" The loud noises made the small human's eyes snap open to see a black crow staring down at him, cawing. "Caw! Caw!"

The other two chimed in occasionally, adding to the caw-rus. That was, until the toddler in both annoyance and a little fear clutched his teddy closer and began to cry. The two on the windowsill looked at each other in panic - something was wrong with the small human, it was crying! - and began to caw louder to draw the attention of their owner.

As the door creaked open, all crows silenced, watching their owner as he entered. Watching for any sign of what he wanted them to do. The blonde locks fell a little past his shoulders, with kind blue eyes. He approached the child, reaching his hand down and gently brushing any hair out of his son's face. "Shh, it's okay mate, everything's okay..." When the child's eyes met his father's he silenced, simply looking up at him. Phil smiled as he moved to pick him up, holding the toddler against his hip. Wilbur's grip failed on the teddy during the transition, dropping on the ground as the left-sided crow flew down to try and grab it, flapping its wings wildly to get the surprisingly heavy stuffed animal in the air. Phil let out a warm chuckle as he kneeled down to take it, the crow backing off. After the small child got settled in his arms, he raised a finger to his lips and kissed it, pressing it to his son's nose as he giggled. "There's the Wilbur I know." Phil cooed.

Turning toward the window, his crows looked on silently, wanting to help but unsure as of how. "He's okay, Chat. Wilbur's okay." The caws returned in relief at the statement, breaking the somewhat silence. The crow with the necklace flew over toward Wilbur, trying to land on Phil's shoulder before the tyke waved his arms in protest and annoyance.

"Caw!"

"Caw!" Wilbur mimicked. "Caw!"

Phil chuckled at his son's outburst, trying his best to sound stern. "Now Wil, we don't wanna try to hurt Chat, do we?"

As Wilbur turned to face his father as he talked, the crow in question changed course, landing on top of Wilbur's head with a "caw". Phil tried to hold back his laughter at it all as the door creaked once more, someone else entering the room. Their voice was warm like Phil's but soft, comforting. "So I'm guessing Wilbur's okay?"

"Yeah, just a little grumpy this morning," Phil answered.

"Mumza!" A crow chanted.

She walked further into the room, behind her husband, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "Hm, I wonder where he gets it from..." She teased. Phil turned to face his wife with a smirk, leaning over to give her a proper kiss on the lips. As Wilbur moved closer, he could see a silver glint around her neck.

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

"Uhm, Wilbur..." Ranboo began as he looked up from the crafting table and out the window of their van. "Wilbur they're here again."

Wilbur sighed from his spot on the hammock, arm over his eyes. "You've gotta be joking. I told him to stop sending them!"

"Honestly? I don't think he has any control over them, they just kinda... do what they want." Ranboo shrugged.

Grumbling, frustrated, Wilbur marched out of the door of his burger van and toward the thousands of black crows lining the trees of the surrounding forest. A few brandishing those unmistakable necklaces, he knew exactly whose crows these were. He told Phil multiple times he was fine. He told Phil multiple times he didn't need a babysitter and that he wanted to change. Phil told him multiple times that he trusted him.

Ha, 'Trusted him'. He was sending in his fucking bird surveillance!

If scaring them didn't work, talking to them didn't work...

He pulled out a water bucket from his inventory, the murder of crows staring down at him as he stared up at them. "This is your final fucking warning, go away!"

Spinning he launched the water into the air as it came splashing down on top of the tree. Caws rang out amongst the forest as a few gave up and flew away, but the rest simply flapped their wings and flew a little higher, soaking wet... and mad.

"Oh Shit."

Wilbur's eyes widened as a murder of crows flew toward him as full speed, knocking him over onto the grass. Their talons caught on his skin and clothes, scratching and leaving him sore. Blinded by a sea of feathers and black, Wilbur struggled to his feet, coughing out a few feathers that landed in his mouth before finally getting his bearings, the murder traveling to settling on top of the van. After shaking himself free of feathers, guilt weighed on his heart - they were only following their owner, after all.

"Look, I'm sorry Chat. I... I didn't mean to hurt you, I... uhm..." Wilbur sighed. "I just don't like being watched, okay?" As Wilbur turned to leave, he heard the fluttering of wings and saw the crows surround his feet, one perched on his head and one on each shoulder. He mustered a bit of an awkward smile - it was strange that he was literally talking to birds. His father's birds, but still. "Thanks, Chat."

Walking off deeper into the forest, Wilbur could hear the flapping of wings behind him, and found himself smiling. Maybe it had some weird psychological effect from trying to run them off his property for almost a week straight... but his father's crows were growing on him.

They settled wherever he went as he worked collecting wood and finding some cows to bring back, the flapping always a telltale sign. One always liked settling on top of his head, and after a few hours, Wilbur allowed it. Chat was a silent presence, but not an unwelcome one to Wilbur, who didn't have many friends besides Ranboo to hang around.

As the day came to a close, he walked back toward the van. "I'm guessing I'll see you all tomorrow, then?" He got a few caws in response as the murder took off into the sky and over the horizon, back towards his father's home in the artic. One crow remained - the one perched in his brown curls. "Go on then, you'll see me tomorrow after all." Wilbur gestured toward the others. "And please learn to listen to Phil, okay? You guys could've gotten yourselves lost trying to find me."

The crow landed on Wilbur's outstretched arm, and for the first time, Wilbur could see the crow had something in its beak. A grand silver necklace with a black stone pendant, that shimmer silver in the sunset's glow. Wilbur's eyes narrowed, scanning it. "Is... Is this...?" He looked up toward the crow, who let out a caw and flew away.

Wilbur ran his finger over the pendant that he'd never seen before, and yet he felt like he'd known it his whole life.

Mom.

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

General Writing Tagging List (Let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!):

@bones-sprouts

@foolishcaptains

@benzel

[kirishimas-manly-eyeliner]

pt. 2!

@missmorosis​ asked:

AHHKKK OKAY OKAY- how they would comfort you if you're crying?? 🥺 w/ hinata, kageyama, tsukishima, and tanaka annNNDDD I LOVE YOU AHHH YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING AND IM HONORED TO EVEN SPEAK WITH YOU SDFJKLSKDJFLKSDJF ILY ILY ILY ILYYYY

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʙʙ 🥺 ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ’ꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀ ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴘᴀᴛᴄʜ. ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ꜰᴀʀ ɪɴ ʟɪꜰᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ, ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ.

-> part one is here 

[ TW: hinting anxiety and/or depression. if you ever need help, please don’t be afraid to reach out to me, i’m open whenever you need me, it’ll be okay ]

Tsukishima and Tanaka with a crying reader (pt 2)

🌼 kei tsukishima 🌼

【🌼】you had felt numb for quite sometime, but you never really cared

【🌼】to you, feeling numb was better than feeling too much... or maybe you felt so much that your brain “stopped working” as a defense mechinism? 

【🌼】you didn’t know, and you didn’t exactly care, either. 

【🌼】you went to go pick up tsukki from his latest volleyball game, but he realized that something about you was... different

【🌼】you were wearing an oversized hoodie, hands stuffed in pockets, and on your phone almost every given second. but for some reason, this angered him

【🌼】“y/n,” he said, getting a sip of water. he opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t say a single word to him and nodded. you didn’t make eye-contact either, and fear started to replace the rage inside him. “...let’s go home.”

【🌼】while you were walking home, tsukishima on-reflex opened up his hand to hold yours, before he realized that your hand wasn’t there to hold, so he snuck his back in his pocket 🥺🥺

【🌼】he fought back every urge to confront you about what was going on. something didn’t feel right, except he also wasn’t sure if you were okay with him asking you questions, so he simply asked, “how was your day?”

【🌼】“it was good,” you said, looking back at your phone as you walked over to the bus station.

【🌼】“...is that all?” tsukishima spat without a second thought.

【🌼】however, you didn’t get angry, and instead, you shrugged and said, “yeah.” you were so tired of speaking-- all you wanted was to be alone, in the comfort of your own room. 

【🌼】an uneasy feeling began to settle in his stomach, and he was just so worried for you, but couldn’t find the right words to say. 

【🌼】you two went on the bus, and it was pretty late at night, so there was barely anyone else around, and all the seats were open.

【🌼】his heart literally shattered when you willingly sat on a seat across from him.

【🌼】“I...” tsukki didn’t finish speaking and waited until you got home.

【🌼】once you actually opened the door to get back home, you were already a few feet ahead of him, always going two steps forward. when he closed the door, he stopped you.

【🌼】“y/n.”

【🌼】you turned around, your hands shuffling in the pockets of your hoodie. you knew confrontation would happen eventually, but you just weren’t ready for it. “...yeah?”

【🌼】“what- what happened today? what’s going on with you?”

【🌼】“nothing!” you said nochalantly. “i’m doing perfect, really. i don’t know where you even got that idea,” you yawned, and opened the door to your room. “i’m so tired, i’m gonna-”

【🌼】“y/n, please,” tsukki said, chewing his lip. his final “please” was only heard as a soft whisper as he stepped closer towards you. 

【🌼】the way he was acting, the way his hands were figdgeting-- (and he never fidgeted), how he was standing still in place, his hand reaching out for yours, made you swallow as you turned around. 

【🌼】“I...” you hesitated, before looking into his eyes, filled with so much hurt, anger, confusion, fear, and you thought he was going to hit you when he raised his hand-

【🌼】but in his eyes, you also saw love.

【🌼】he put his cupped his hands around your face before pulling you into a hug. “i know you’re not okay. but you can say whatever you want around me,” he looked at you wiped away a tear on your face with his thumb. “it’s okay to be weak, that’s something that took me a while to realize. being weak can be a good thing sometimes, because then you can get help from people you least expect.”

【🌼】“everything’s going to be okay, y/n. you’re safe. it’ll get better, and whatever it is you’re going through, i’ll be with you, every step of the way.”

🌷 ryūnosuke tanaka 🌷

【🌷】it was late at night, and it was happening again.

【🌷】just like it did every single night. you’d feel too much, too little, things would be too loud, too quiet, and your brain just wouldn’t shut up as you sat in bed, feeling disgusting in your own body and scrolling on your phone.

【🌷】every single night for what seemed like the past year had been like this. nothing ever changed-- people always said, “you’re strong! you’ll make it!”

【🌷】but... did any of them ever mean it?

【🌷】you sat in your sleeping bag in the gym’s backroom, because you didn’t have enough money to rent your own apartment. you sat in the back, your phone light and the buttons of the heater being your only sources of light

【🌷】11:42, the clock glared.

【🌷】you didn’t want attention. you didn’t want people touching you, all you wanted was someone to understand.

【🌷】someone to listen to you.

【🌷】you fell asleep with your phone still playing music into a restless sleep, praying that tomorrow the sun wouldn’t rise again.

【🌷】the door clicked at around 5 am, and you instantly jolted awake-- was it a robbery? who was it? and why were they here? who was-

【🌷】“y/n??” a voice exclaimed. you still had your bed-head as your eyes locked with tanaka’s, who was staring, eyes as wide as saucers

【🌷】before you spoke, tanaka spoke first, “i’m so sorry, beautiful woman! it’s just- i wanted to practice early, please don’t report me, goddess!”

【🌷】you laughed, he seemed like a small puppy. you wiped the tears from your face, “of course-”

【🌷】“huh?” tanaka’s face instantly dropped, his face melting into a concerned frown. “were you... crying?”

【🌷】honestly speaking, it was insane how fast his demeanor changed. “you were-- it seemed like you were wiping tears from your face, are you okay?”

【🌷】”i’m fine, don’t worry about me, just-- my eye was itchy,” you started packing your sleeping bag. 

【🌷】tanaka’s eyes widened. “you- you sleep here?”

【🌷】“yeah, i don’t have much money...” you sighed. “but i’m okay! i can manage, it’s okay-” your voice broke as tanaka’s expression looked so heartbroken that you thought he was the one who was hurt. 

【🌷】before you knew it, his arms engulfed you as he started crying into your shoulder.

【🌷】“I- ryu, what are you-?”

【🌷】“you’re so strong, you know that? and i’m not even kidding when i say this, because I-” he let out a weak laugh. “I joke around a lot, so what i’m telling you right now is the full truth.”

【🌷】you hugged him back. “you’re serious?”

【🌷】“the fact that you never told me what was wrong, or anything personal kinda hinted most of it, being honest,” he scratched the back of his neck. “and then you told me you sleep here? you can come over with me- i mean, if that isn’t too weird for you! but just... take care of yourself? you’re so insanely strong, and that’s attractive,”

【🌷】you let yourself grin, but you stare up at him. “you really think so?”

【🌷】“yeah. well, now that i think of it... you always smile even when you don’t want to, you always help others when you feel down yourself, and... you’re scared to reach out to people, i get it. but promise me, promise me one thing!” he said as he kissed you on your forehead. “promise me that you’ll take care of yourself? please?”

【🌷】you didn’t even realize you were crying until now. “i... okay, baldy,” you chuckled through your tears. “thanks,”

【🌷】tanaka beamed and held your hand, saying, “you know what? i’ll go get you something tasty to eat after practice, what do you like?”

~

if you’d like me to do any other characters, please lmk! i write these to help you mentally, physically, emotionally, whatever it is, please know you can always reach out to me whenever. you standing here, you getting through the day is more than enough, and you should be insanely proud of yourself. don’t feel guilty for being on your phone all day, or not doing anything productive, because those rest days are the moments that help you the most! i love you so much, please take care bb.

tag list!: @cathwritestragediesnotsins, @mari-bug, @missmorosis​, @maddiemadill​, and if you’d like to be added, ask here! take care of yourself please 🥺

[dreadpoetssociety]

Fevers Don’t Exist

TW: Fever ? (I’m not sure what counts for triggers so pls lmk if I miss anything)

Prompt: hi!! could u do one maybe where like, the reader is an actress on supernatural and she plays like their younger sister on the show or something and she gets sick at a con or something? Thanks !!

NOTE: Hey guys, I’m alive!!!! I know I have a lot of Spencer prompts atm, but it’s really hard to write them when I’m not like, hyper focused on Criminal Minds. I am going to try though! So sorry I’ve left so many of you in the wind, I am a very inconsistent person, my bad. But here’s this! It’s REALLY bad because I’m terrible at being realistic but like idk it’s something.

I really don’t even know what to put for tags on this. 

()()()()()() 

Ah, September. You knew what came along every September, and looked forward to it for the first eight months of every year. Secaucus, New Jersey. You loved every con you went to, truly. Everyone was so nice, you love staying in hotels, panels are such a great time, the whole thing. It's a great experience outside of the set to get connected with fans. And, they loved you almost as much as you loved them. You were typically closer in age, since you were still just a teenager. You also started out as a fan of the show before somehow snatching a role, so you really were with them at one point. Everything that excites them excited you just as much. And, you loved making friends with them. You weren't allowed to be reckless with your phone number, so you made a snapchat that you shared exclusively with con goers, whom you made swear to secrecy. It was like a club, and you just enjoyed genuinely talking to everyone. But, when you woke up that first morning, you knew it was going to be a long day. Your body ached, and you were still pretty exhausted. You had a fever, but didn't really know if it was a fever because you were still young, and God forbid you ever decided to recognize the signs of you being sick. It was almost like a form of denial, not knowing. You were sweating, but freezing, and your throat felt particularly dry. Your headache rested underneath your eyes for the most part, to which you just blamed on being tired. Your stomach didn't hurt, but you definitely weren't hungry. Even though you hadn't felt exactly 100% the past days before, and you obviously weren't feeling right now, you just deduced that it was all because you were tired, and had a late flight in. As a responsible person does, of course. You didn't even bother taking any medicine for it, because hey, you obviously weren't sick, you'd feel better in a bit, and you didn't have any, so why waste the time, right? 

You groggily got dressed and met up with "the boys" (even though they were all older than you) for the free breakfast downstairs, in a separate room, since fans did happen to stay in the same hotel. You grabbed some Cheerios, only to conspicuously throw them away after. 

"You good, Y/N?" Jared asked out loud, gaining the attention of Jensen, Misha, and Alex. You could feel their eyes burning through your skin. Or, maybe that was the fever. It had to be their eyes, you convinced yourself, you didn't have a fever. You were fine. 

"Yeah, why?" you asked, faking the perk in your voice and confused eyes. Your eyes felt really heavy, you noticed. 

"You just... You look exhausted. And pale." he said, "And you threw away that cereal without eating any of it." 

You looked down at yourself as an effect for what you were about to say, "Wow, well that's one way to make me self-conscious. I thought I looked kind of poppin'." you laughed slightly, trying to play it off. 

"W-wait, no that's- that's not what I meant! You look fine, I just-" he was embarrassed. You and the others chuckled.

"I'm kidding. I'm all good, just went to bed late, y'know?" you smiled. It was hard to try and mask the rasp in your voice, and doing so made you feel the need to cough, so you downed some water until it dialed down a bit. He nodded. In your mind, you blessed your acting skills, thinking you got away with it. What you didn't know was that Misha, Jensen, and Jared, as fathers do, knew every trick in the book, and each noted to keep an eye on you. Not to mention, they'd been acting far longer than you had, and could just tell when one switches into a character. They all figured that if you weren't sick now, you would be in days to come, and exchanged glances with each other, while Alex innocently continued to chew on his toast. 

"Well, if you're tired, I don't think you have a panel or anything for another hour or something, maybe you could catch up on some sleep then." Jared suggested. You shrugged.

"Nah," you said, "I've got photo-ops in like, twenty minutes. I should actually probably get going. I'll catch up later!" 

You left with a wave, and disappeared into the hotel somewhere. You stopped in your room, allowing yourself finally to set free the coughs living in the back of your throat. You blamed it on your throat being dry since you didn't drink enough water. Not on germs. So, you grabbed two water bottles from the small fridge in your room, and left, making your way towards the convention center.

  You felt slightly better during photo-ops, which just confirmed in your mind that it was impossible that you were sick right now. You smiled and talked to everyone. There was one girl, who introduced herself as Meredith, who stuck out in your mind. She gave you this super cool hand painted keychain, which you very excitedly put on your keys instantly.

"Dude, I've been looking for a cool keychain. Not just one of those janky ones you find at like 7-11, like a cool one. This is so exciting." you smiled genuinely. You had just recently bought yourself a car, and thought that your keys looked a little lonely, and searched for hours on Etsy for something to spice it up a bit. A weird obsession, thinking about it now.

She laughed, "I'm glad you like it!"

"Hell, yeah! Now, are there any poses you wanna do? Or do you just want to hit that casual look? I could make it look like I'm meeting you." you stupidly rambled. One of your traits that was so widely known was how funny and awkward (in a good way) that you were. It took you a long time to get to that point, though, because you were always anxious about meeting others. You still are every now and then, but it's different here. 

"I was just hoping to get a hug." she said, "If that's okay with you." 

"Yeah, that's cool!" you wrapped your arms around each other and shot the camera a grin. The girl looked a bit confused. 

"Hey," she said, quietly, "are you like, okay? You feel really hot."

Nervously, you replied, "Oh, no, yeah totally fine. I'm just wearing two layers, and it's getting spicy in here."

"Yeah," she answered, "don't push yourself, okay?"

"I won't, thank you. It was really nice meeting you!" 

"You, too! Thanks!" she waved goodbye and you moved on to the last few people in line. She was right, though. You realized that you felt worse than you did when you walked in. You thought it had gone away for a while, but now it was just amplified. You noticed you were cold again, but that you were sweating as well. It must've just been the temperature in the room. These conventions aren't always able to keep a steady temp in the entire building, right?

This day, you didn't have much to do. Most of your events were on the other days to come. You had one panel in a few hours, and then a panel with Jared, Jensen, and Misha a few hours after that, and then bam, the day was over. You just had to get through those two events. Just two. 

Two, events. And both were an hour. So, two hours out of the day. Rookie work. Yet, as your panel approached, the headache had expanded from under your eyes to anywhere that there was space to hurt, your throat ached and so did your lungs from how much you were going off somewhere to cough in privacy, your body felt heavy, you couldn't tell if you were hot or cold at this point it was some weird combination of both, your stomach hurt just slightly, the world was moving around you a bit more than it usually would, and the fever you "didn't" have had climbed a degree, probably two. And, at some point during the day, you got pretty congested. You felt like you could just fall asleep at any moment. Jared and Jensen happened to be walking by where you had been waiting by yourself, away from any congoers or employees, and noticed that even though you were leaning against a wall, you somehow were still swaying.

"Y/N?" Jensen called out, worried. You heard him, you knew you were supposed to respond, but didn't know how. Maybe you did have a fever, and maybe you sort of let it out of control. It was like you were comprehending them, but not at the same time. You heard everything, but it just swept right through your feverish mind. The walked in front of you and examined you within seconds. You felt Jared's cold, really abnormally large man hand sweep your hair back and land on your forehead. 

"J, she's burning up." you felt another hand on your face. You, quite exhaustedly, swatted it away. They couldn't figure out how it'd gotten so bad so quickly. You were sick this morning, but not to this degree. They knew then that you had just shrugged it off all day, and your teenage fever brain probably didn't even think to take any kind of medicine or anything for it, even if you were trying to hide it.

"I'm good. Just tired. Fevers don’t exist." you finally mumbled, taking a few deep breathes, which you hadn't really been able to do in a bit without being rudely interrupted by a bone-shaking cough. It felt nice, almost. The boys sighed at you and shook their heads. 

"Y/N, you should go back to your room and get some rest. We can bring you some stuff that'll help." Jared suggested. You shook your head and opened your eyes, which somehow felt even heavier.

"Nah," you said to them, "I've got a panel, I think, in like, I ‘dunno, some minutes or something. Something I-" you pushed yourself off the wall to try and make your way somewhere, but stumbled a step or two, which result in Jensen and Jared instinctively to grab you in order to keep you steady.

"Like hell we're letting you go to that, Y/N, you can't even form a sentence, or stand for that matter. You're out of your mind. We're going to bring you back now, we'll take care of your panel thing." Jensen stated pretty sternly. You were about to fight back, and they could see it, but you coughed a few times, and they could almost feel it in their own chests. You just nodded in defeat.

"Yeah, maybe I could just like, sleep, for an hour or two." you whispered, tiredly. The two were still holding you steady, and could see you already falling asleep before even going anywhere. 

"Or six, by the looks of it." Jared joked lightly.

"Poor kid." Jensen said to Jared as the were walking out of your room. They helped you get there, and you were gone before you even saw the bed, "Why do they always have to pretend like they aren't sick? Look where it gets them."

"Don't know, man. You can't talk, though. You literally tell people you are immune to illness." Jared laughed quietly, shutting you door.

"Well I am. I am the perfect example of health. I don't get sick." 

"Yeah," Jared rolled his eyes, "Right. Watch you catch what Y/N has. You practically carried her all the way here. There's no way you're escaping it." Walking towards the center, the back way of course, Jensen scoffed, "Please, germs take one look at me and know not to mess this up. And, by the logic, that means you're already infected, too. So, tell me, princess, what sort of soup do you want spoon-fed?" 

Again, Jared rolled his eyes, and the two laughed. They weren't making fun of you, they were making fun of each other, and knew that you would've wanted in on that action.

"Y/N probably would've destroyed us if she heard that. Something along the longs of 'You want me to tuck you in? Carry you bridal style?'" Jared pitched his voice a tone higher for it. Again, the two men laughed.

They made their way backstage of what's supposed yo be your panel, and informed the crew about what was going on. They were just going to fill in for you, probably tell a few embarrassing stories.

When they made their way through the curtain, the crowd shouted. They were obviously excited to see the two leads, but also were obviously confused. "Alright, you're probably confused." Jensen stated the obvious, "Because obviously, we look nothing like Y/N, and thank God she does not look like us." The crowd laughed.

"Anyway, Y/N can't make it today. She's really sick-" the crowd cut Jared off with a unison "awe." People yelled out that they hoped she felt better, tell her to take care of herself, and so on.

"Yeah, poor kid looked like she was just going to fall asleep right where she was standing. She literally tried to come anyway, like, kid, you're making no sense. Y/N couldn't really fight against us, though, so she's sleeping now." Jensen explained, "So we came here to chat in her stead, but just know she really was planning on coming. That kid loves you guys." and again, the "awe" rolled through the crowd. 

"If she wasn't sick, she could totally kick both your-" the last word was cut off, but was implied anyway, someone screamed from the crowd, which resulted in laughter.

"Yeah, probably. Even if we were stronger than her," sarcastically, of course, "she'd still beat us. Kid's too fast, and I'm too old." Jared laughed.

In the last ten minutes of the panel, Jared decided to give you call. Not only to check in on you, but so you could at least say hi to your crowd. When you heard the phone ring, you groggily opened your eyes and aimlessly reached for it.

"Hello?" you answered. Jared almost frowned at how sick you sounded, even with just one word.

"Y/N?" Jensen stepped in, "It's Jensen."

"Unfortunate." you sighed exhaustedly. It was joke, a really tired one, but still enough to make the crowd laugh.

"We're here at your panel, we thought you might want to say hi." Jared said loudly, holding the speaker of his phone to the microphone. 

"Panel?" you asked. Panel? What panel? Your delirious mind was clearly confused, "Who's that?" 

"Y/N, the con. The convention panel?" Jensen actually sounded worried. They probably should've thought to give you some sort of medicine to do something about the fever you had before they'd left.

"Oh," you closed your eyes again, almost falling asleep, before remembering finally what it was they meant, and after a moment, "Oh! Crap, the panel thing, I'm late."

"No, Y/N, stay there, we've got it covered remember? You can't come. You can say hi to them, though." Jensen interjected quickly.

"Okay, hi guys." you just followed as told.

The crowd responded with a series of hello's. 

"'M really sorry. I hope they aren't boring you." the two men could practically hear you closing your eyes. The crowd responded in inaudible chatter. Jensen and Jared walked from the mic for a second.

"Sorry if we woke you, kid." Jared apologized, having just realized they probably could've left you alone, "W also just wanted to check in. See how you're doing."

"How are you feeling?" Jensen asked, but got a mumbled word in response, "Alright, well, just go back to sleep, we'll be up there soon." 

Jared hung up the phone, and the two began to answer the last few questions and close up. They waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and started heading back your way.

"Jensen, you got any over the counters with you? Thermometers or anything? All I've got is Advil, and I don't even know what's really bothering her yet other than that cough and being tired."

"Yup. Danneel always makes me carry literally an entire medicine cabinet, just for these moments. I'll go get 'em and meet you there. It'd probably do her some good to eat something, too. I don't know if she's got like, a stomach virus thing going on, though." Jensen answered.

"I'll see what she'll say and let you know." 

The two parted ways, and Jared made his way to you. Even though he'd only talked to you just a few minutes before, you were dead to the world by the time he opened the door. The room was boiling, and Jared looked over to the thermostat to see that you'd at some point put it on to 90 degrees. 

"Jesus, Y/N, I know you've got a fever, but damn." he said, more so to himself than to you. He looked over at you after turning it down to see you curled beneath what looked like any blanket you could find. He came over and started removing the blankets slowly, and shook you gently to wake you up.

"Y/N, wake up for a minute, it's Jared."

"'Mm." was all you said, until you realized your layers of warmth had been moved, "What're doing? It's cold."

"Y/N, you're dripping in sweat. It's the fever making you cold."

"I don't have a fever." you retorted, "I'm good. Just tired."

"Kid, you've been tired the whole day. You've been sleeping this whole time." he tried rationalizing.

"I have?" you questioned, closing you eyes again. Jared put his hand to your forehead again. Somehow, it was warmer than the first time he'd done it before the panel. It was then that Jensen finally appeared, a whole bag of things in hand, "Could you bring the thermometer over?"

"Yeah, gotcha." He walked over and rummaged through the bag at the same time, pulling out a thermometer.

"Y/N, we need to take your temperature." Jensen said.

"No need." you said, "'M not sick."

"You are so obviously sick, I'm not asking." again with that stern voice. Jared gave him a "Hey, she's sick, back off a little" sort of look, but it had worked, and you let them take your temp. They were almost shocked when the thing beeped at 103.

"Should we take her to a hospital? That's way too high." Jared asked. 

"If it gets any higher, yes, but let's see if we can bring it down first." Jensen replied.

"No hospitals." you demanded, opening your eyes and glaring at them. 

"We aren't bringing you yet, Y/N, but I need you to eat this so you can take some meds." he held out two pieces of toast that he must've brought from his room. You hated toast even when you weren't sick.

"I'm not really hungry." 

"I know, but it'll help. You haven't told us what's bothering you yet, either." Jared responded.

"Nothing's-" you coughed a few times, a bit violently, "bothering me." "We can see that." Jensen said sarcastically.

"Everything's bothering me." you whispered, giving up.

"Your stomach hurt?" Jensen asked. You waved your hand from side to side to signal a so-so, "Think you'll get sick at all?"

"No, it's not like that, I don't think." you breathed out, another cough escaping you. You took a few bites out of the toast. It made you uncomfortable, but it was then that you realized you probably felt that way since you really hadn't eaten much that day or the one before, which probably contributed to the splitting headache. It didn't go away after, either though. You pushed yourself up. You almost fell over, but Jared put a hand out for you.

"Alright, good. Take this. I'm going to be frank, it tastes disgusting." Jensen handed over a small cup of liquid, "Sometimes, if you take it like a shot, it helps. But you shouldn't know how to take shots, but if you do it, I won't judge." And so you did, causing the two to chuckle slightly at you. 

"You were right, about the sleep thing." you slumped back onto the bed heavily, like a brick.

"When am I ever wrong?" Jensen asked, "Don't answer that, actually."

But you were already sleeping again, and the boys decided to stay nearby for now. The next panel wasn't for another few hours anyway, and they just didn't want you to be alone. Also, incase you were wrong about the toast, and it decided to make its return. Jared's phone began to ring loudly, to which he very quickly tried to answer so his obnoxious ringtone wouldn't wake you up again, not that you wouldn't have just fallen back asleep anyway.

"Misha? Hey, what's up?" Jared answered. Jensen walked over to hear what was going on on the other side of the line, but Jared just decided to put it on speaker.

"Where are you guys? I haven't seen you all day. Felicia, Alex, and I are going out for lunch, we were wondering if you guys want to come. I tried calling Y/N, but she didn't answer, so." he rambled.

"That's because Y/N's not feeling well." Jensen said, giving him a solution to his predicament of not being answered, "We're with her right now, so we'll have to pass."

"She's sick? Is she okay?" 

"Yeah, I think so. She's just got this crazy fever we've been trying to bring down. Thinking about it now, Jensen, we should probably check it again." 

"A fever?"

"It's been at 103 degrees for like, two hours. At least for what we know of. She's probably had one all day, but as a dumb teenager does, she just tried to ignore it." 

"If it goes up you should-"

"Yeah, we know," Jared said, "we're trying really hard to avoid that, though. Also, she'll definitely fight against it, I don't know." 

Jensen, from the other side of the room at the sound of a beeping thermometer, could be heard on Misha's end, "It went down, finally. 102.2."

"Thank God, I was getting worried."

"Should I come there? Do you guys need any help?" Misha asked.

"I mean you can, but I think we're good. She's just been trying to sleep it off the whole time, so not much is really going on." Jensen was closer to the phone now, "Like, she's got this cough, a headache, and you can hear how congested she sounds, but mostly I think she's just exhausted. I honestly don't know how because she's just been sleeping for hours."

"Fatigue."

"Yeah, poor kid. I don't think I've ever seen her so tired, it almost makes me tired to be honest." Jensen joked.

"Maybe you're just getting sick." Jared slipped in.

"Not possible. I am immune."

"Nobody is immune, Jensen." Misha sighed.

"I'm not nobody." he shrugged. 

"Alright, well, we're going to get lunch then. If you need anything let me know, and tell her I hope she feels better." Misha concludes.

"We will, thanks Misha." and with that, Jared hung up. For a few more hours, the two hung around. They were there when you woke from some fever dreams, and when you needed a cough drop, or twelve, and wake you up every now and then to check your temperature, which raised and dropped and raised and dropped, but currently was at a very steady 102.4. But, soon enough, it was time for them to leave for the last panel of the day, and unsurprisingly, you tried to follow suit.

"Y/N, we gotta go, but we'll be back in about an hour from the panel." Jared said. You took a deep breath and sluggishly pushed yourself to the side of the bed. Having been sick, and not having sat up in a few hours, the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy.

"What're you doing?" Jensen asked.

"The panel. I missed the last one I should go to this one. I feel okay." you yawned, then coughed slightly.

"Y/N, really, you shouldn't even think about pushing it like that." Jared said. Jensen walked over to you, half on the bed, clearly trying to steady yourself just from the movement of sitting up. The spinning room honestly almost made the toast make a reprise, and you hiccupped, and held your breath.

"Hey," Jensen grabbed a can quickly, noticing, "are you going to be sick?"

Giving it a minute, it went away, and you shook you head no, causing a huge tension to leave the room.

"Alright, well, remember how you said I was right all the time earlier?" Jensen pun the can down.

"No, must've been the fever." you half joked, causing Jared to laugh. 

"Alright- well- okay, shut up. We agreed I'm always right, and that I was right about needing sleep, so I say you need some more." Jensen demanded rather than suggested. 

"Yeah, or at least lay around and do nothing. I can't imagine ever sleeping as much as you just did." Jared joked, pushing you very gently back down, with his hand on your back, knowing you would just hit the bed without it. Your eyes were heavy again, and your throat was painfully dry, and you coughed. Your aching head also agreed with the two of them to your dismay.

"Maybe just a bit more." you mumbled, "A few minutes."

"Yeah a few minutes, sure." Jared smiled, knowing you were probably going to knock out for a few hours once again. You opened your eyes again.

"You think," you coughed, "that they'll be mad?

"Who?" Jensen asked.

Feeling pretty sick, you said, "That I don't go? I don’t feel really good."

Ah, the fever comes to play once again, it seems, but the two felt some sort of triumph now that you've at least admitted to being sick, even if it's been hours. It concerned them, though, if you felt bad enough to admit it.

"No, they'll be fine about it. We'll be back soon. Misha or Alex might come in to check on you, alright?" Jared answered, to which you nodded.

They weren't gone long. You spent half the next day sleeping, too, until you could stand without swaying. You did sneak back to the con, against Jensen and Jared's orders, since you really didn't break that fever and cough for a few more days, only to be caught after a tweet of you at the con was trending and the cast caught wind of it. But, eventually, you were better, and got the chance to help Jared take care of an "always immune" Jensen. And he was more stubborn than you were.

[alt-but-archived]

bare bones info

hello! i mostly go by alt but idm being called misu :D i use any pronouns and fem + masc terms are okay

"op is a mcyt stan" or whatever (mostly dsmp, 3rd/last life, hermitcraft, empires, afterlife smp, ivorycello)

if that doesn't bother you, feel free to read more info down below!

general blog info

@divorced-little-meow-meow is where i rb stuff

since i use fast rb, i usually don't tag spoilers for things i rb, but feel free to ask me to tag something :D

i tw stuff with tw.trigger and tw trigger

i usually don't get into discourse but i might rb/reference some in a lighthearted way

all of my posts r intended to be platonic but idc if you tag it as ship

with that being said, i use ethubs platonically (however lmk if people have settled on a platonic name though <3)

art info/permissions

feel free to dm me!

this is my primary blog so sometimes i'll talk abt other things i like but i've provided filters below in case you're only interested in the mcyt stuff :)

my art tag is #misu_art

all of my art (drawings, posters, designs, etc) are okay to use as a pfp, part of an edit, etc as long as you give me credit somewhere

i am not okay with commercial use unless asked beforehand/commissioned

altarmisu.carrd.co goes into more detail in specific scenarios

if i come up with a cool concept and you wanna do something with it, feel free! and tag me too pls i wanna see

personal stuff/about me

i tag non mcyt stuff/personal posts with #alt texts

i'm interested in contemporary fashion so if you ever wanna sit down and chat about stuff like that, hmu! (will tag it as #alts boutique)

im also into kpop (sorta, im only into the songs and fashion, not the idols) so if that bothers you feel free to block the tag #alts.boppin

anyways! that should be most of it, here is a funny video that people put at the end of their about mes :)

[snarkwrites]

ssw | embry call ; let me take care of you.

NOTES:

As I said yesterday... I’m going to break down the list of prompts I originally intended to use for just one one-shot into a few different ones for this because I just felt like the first one flowed so well using only the one... This is the second part to the one shot I posted yesterday. And there will be at least a few more parts after this. I can’t say when they’ll be coming, but I can say they will be coming eventually.

Again, same as yesterday.. I am not a medical professional. Nor have I ever had amnesia of any kind. I’m trying my best with this, so apologies if it doesn’t seem realistic or whatever...If it matters/bothers anyone, that is.

Question though.. Would anyone be interested in at least one part of this being written in his point of view? Because I feel like it’d be interesting to write that way... It’d be third person..

PROMPTS:

Taken from [ here ] or [ here ]. The prompt used for inspiration here was obviously, Let me take care of you.

FANDOM / CHARACTER:

Twilight / Embry Call x Imprint!OFC, Merisa.

OTHER WORKS EMBRY & MERISA ARE FOUND IN:

[ he looks down. she looks up. ] 

WARNINGS:

amnesia tw, vague injuries mentioned tw, just gonna say her current soon to be ex boyfriend is an actual piece of garbage so.. yeah.. Sexual tension. Beyond all these, there’s not really anything else I can think of.

TAGGING:

@kyleoreillysknee​  is the only one currently on my Twilight taglist. If you see this and you’d like to be tagged also, add yourself to the doc below or lmk. It’ll make me super happy.

OTHER STUFF:

[ faq | request rules | sfw masterlist | tag list doc ]

The phone rang, shattering the silence and my train of thought. Okay, so it wasn’t a train of thought because I was more or less staring out the window of my grandmother’s living room and watching Embry Call work on my grandmother’s old car out in the driveway, but.. The phone was a distraction I didn’t want.

I grumbled when it didn’t go quiet. And after a few more seconds I’d had all I could take of the high pitched sound in all it’s annoying glory. I sprang up from the couch gingerly, grabbing up the remote to pause the true crime documentary I’d been engrossed in about Richard Ramirez and I hobbled into the kitchen, wincing every step of the way.

A scowl filled my face and I tensed up just as soon as I picked up and I heard Greg on the other end of the line. Upon hearing his voice, all sorts of unpleasant memories came rushing back. It was too much. 

“Merisa?”

“What, Greg?” I snapped. Impatient. Peering out my grandma’s living room window. Biting my bottom lip as I watched Embry tug the stained tank top he was wearing up over his head and wipe at sweat on his forehead with it before tossing it on the concrete slab next to his open toolbox.

“I asked you a question.” Greg cleared his throat expectantly.

Is it bad that I was so caught up in watching Embry do mechanic things outside that I didn’t even attempt to make an effort to listen to a damn word Greg said? Because this is exactly what happened.

“I wasn’t listening.”

Greg gave an annoyed huff at my honest answer and I rolled my eyes. Grumbling. The crackle of static over the phone line breaking through for a second or two. Whether I asked for him to repeat himself or not didn’t matter at all because Greg went on and asked his question again anyway.

“I said don’t you think you should be planning to return to Seattle soon? You were only supposed to be gone for a few days. It’s been nearly four weeks.” Greg stated. Pausing for a minute to grumble to himself about how this was typical of me, telling him one thing and then doing something entirely different.

And I snapped.

“Does the fact that I nearly died three and a half weeks ago just not mean anything to you at all or..?” I snarled, going quiet for a second or two. Determined to stay calm. But exploding felt so damn satisfying. It was hard to resist. I got the feeling that I spent 90 percent of my time around Greg biting my tongue and that had me wondering why. What did this guy have that kept me with him? The more I wondered about it, the harder it was to come up with any real sort of answer.

“Sorry. I should know better than to ask questions I already know the answer to.” I apologized. In my own petty way, of course.

Greg took my apology as sincerity and he sighed. Disappointed, obviously because I wasn’t there to tend to his every stupid whim. “I’m sorry too, it’s just.. I told you we had plans. You know how important this weekend is to me and the fact that you’re not even trying to come back… I’m just disappointed, sweetheart. That’s all.”

,, well excuse the fuck out of me for grieving. excuse me for loving my mother enough to want to go to her funeral. Excuse me for nearly dying and needing to heal and getting in the way of your precious plans,asshole.” I wanted to say it so badly that I had to bite the insides of my cheeks and ball my hands into fists just to keep it in. I sighed. “Instead of making this harder than it has to be, you could actually be a caring boyfriend and come to make sure I’m okay… I mean.. I am dealing with memory loss and injuries...”

Surprise, surprise. He suddenly had a thousand excuses as to why he couldn’t -and wouldn’t, just do that. And my stomach churned. Did he even give a shit? Why was I still wasting my time? Why had I even bothered answering the phone in the first place this time?

I made up my mind right then. As soon as I got off the phone with him, I was going to block him on all socials. I was going to block his number on my cell phone. And if I saw his name on my grandmother’s caller ID when the phone rang, I was just going to walk out of the room.

“I’ve gotta go.” I muttered. Before Greg could say anything else,  I hung up the phone angrily. Slamming it down on it’s cradle.

From the doorway, Embry cleared his throat and stepped into the living room. “Trouble in paradise?”

“If that’s what paradise is I’d hate to imagine hell.” I flopped back on the couch dramatically. Wincing when yes, it still hurts to move certain ways. Or too much at once. 

Embry sat down in my grandmother’s recliner. Staring intently at the television which was paused on the clubhouse scene from Dirty Dancing.

I grabbed my cell phone from the end table and did exactly what I made up my mind to do. Blocking Greg on every single one of my socials. And out of pettiness, I changed my relationship status on Instagram to single.

He’d never even bothered to change his, if memory serves. Why had I changed mine?

There was still so much I had left to fill in as far as my memory gaps, but it was coming back in leaps and bounds. Something told me that the last thing I needed to have done was return to Seattle. Otherwise, I might not have ever remembered or  even realized to begin with, what kind of man I was involved with because I’m pretty sure that Greg wouldn’t have started to really show his true self.

He’d done a pretty fair job of hiding just how controlling and easily irritated by the slightest inconvenience he really was so far, I mean, I hadn’t dropped his ass.

I smirked in satisfaction as I put down my phone. 

I happened to glance over at Embry to find him staring at me. Like he wanted to say something or he was lost in thought. Before I could help myself, I was staring right back. Getting pulled into the depths of his eyes. Eventually dropping my gaze down. Lingering on his mouth when he licked his lips.

I couldn’t stop staring. This was starting to become habit whenever he was around. Especially if he wasn’t paying attention so I knew I could stare to my hearts content and get away with it.

I stood and cleared my throat. “I’m gonna go get myself some lemonade. Do you want anything?” I asked as I walked over to the doorway leading into the kitchen.

“If there are any more bottled waters?” Embry asked hopefully. I smiled and gave him a thumbs up. And as soon as I was in the kitchen, I leaned against the fridge. Fanning myself with one of my grandmother’s magazines that happened to be sitting on the counter.

After I managed to pull myself together just a little bit, I grabbed a bottled water for Embry and I poured myself a glass of lemonade. And when I turned to walk back into the living room, I found myself body to body with Embry as he stepped into the doorway between the two rooms.

My thighs clenched just a little at the way it felt to be pressed against him. Hard muscles against my own softness. For a second, when I opened my mouth to tell him I’d gotten his water like he asked for, the words hung in my throat.

Finally, I managed to get it out. “Your water, sir.” I held out the water bottle to him and after holding it against the back of his neck for a few seconds, he uncapped it, practically swallowing down half the bottle in one gulp.

Eyes locked on me the entire time. I know this because I’ll be damned if I could stop staring at him either. I tried. And failed.

He cleared his throat.

“Oh, right.. You probably wanted to wash your hands…” I stepped out of the doorway, pouting to myself a little because the second physical contact was broken, I missed the feel of his body against mine.

He walked over to the sink. Turning it on. Washing his hands. And I happened to notice he had a few busted knuckles.

“You need those sanitized. C’mere.” I nodded to the stool on the other side of the counter. Embry shrugged. Muttered that it wasn’t a big deal.

“It’s called infection setting in. And it can happen.” I insisted, nodding to the stool again. When he shook his head and took another sip of water and calmly insisted that he was fine, I shook my head and hobbled over. Grabbing hold of the hand that wasn’t injured. Leading him to the stool. “Sit.”

“Okay, alright. You know, you’re a lot bossier than I remember.” Embry muttered, gazing down at me. Even sitting down he was still taller. Bigger.

I stuck out my tongue at him. “If it keeps you from getting a nasty infection in your hand, I’ll take it.” I muttered. My gaze settling on him. Instantly getting sucked right back into those deep brown eyes and lost.

After a second or two of both of us staring at each other yet again, I cleared my throat. “I should go find the first aid kit.”

“It’s under the sink.” Embry answered quietly. I bit my lip. Nodding as I muttered mostly to myself, “Under the sink.” and turned away to get it.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m telling you, it’s fine. I deal with this all the time. Kind of happens when you work at a garage, Merisa…” Embry trailed off as I glanced back at him and stated in a firmer tone, “Let me take care of you, okay?”

I grabbed the bottle of peroxide and a rag. Sitting on the stool adjacent to his. Grabbing hold of his hand and placing it in my lap.

“You have tiny hands.” Embry muttered, almost sounding dazed. I glanced up at him through a curtain of hair as it fell right into my face because I bent my head just a little to see his hand better. I swallowed hard. Trying not to think of how good it felt to have his hand in mine. Or on my body.

When I exhaled, it was shaky.

That had me raising a brow.

If this man had one tenth of a clue just what he stirred up in me, I swear to God…

He jumped as the peroxide made contact with the open wounds, bubbling and fizzing as it cleaned the wounds out. 

A memory came back to me… I was younger. Probably around five. My grandmother sat on the stool Embry currently sat on and I sat on the stool I was currently sitting on. My leg was in her lap and she was dabbing some red liquid on it that burned like the fire of ten thousand hells. I was crying and trying to jerk my leg away, but my grandma just held onto it. And when she finished, she leaned in… Blowing gently on my injured knee. 

As the bubbling started to slow down, I raised Embry’s hand, leaning down. Blowing on the knuckles a little. Glancing up at him and teasing playfully, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I’ve felt worse.” he finally mumbled after we’d been locked in a quiet staredown for what felt like minutes instead of seconds. 

It sank in that I was still holding onto his hand. And he wasn’t making an effort to pull his hand away, either.

My grandmother cleared her throat from the doorway and smirked at the two of us playfully as she came in, sitting groceries on the counter. “Am I interrupting something, Merisa?”

“No, not at all.” I answered. Smiling. Letting go of Embry’s hand as my cheeks burned. I felt like a teenager just walked in on by her parents.

Embry slid off the stool and brushed his hands over his jeans. “I need to get back to it.” he muttered. Hurrying out of the house. As soon as the screen door banged shut behind him, I let out a ragged breath. Fanning myself with the magazine again.

Trying to ignore the look I was getting from my grandmother.

When she couldn’t resist any longer, she spoke up. “He’s single.. If you’re wondering.”

“Grandma!” I laughed out, shaking my head. My gaze lingering on the window. Fixed on him.

My grandmother spoke up again. “It’s been so nice having you here, Mermaid… It’ll be a shame to see you go.”

Before I really stopped to think about it, I replied “ Honestly? I’m tempted to stay.”

My grandmother pulled me into a tight hug. Smiling at me as the hug broke. “I won’t stop you. The decision is yours.”

I nodded. Waiting until she was in the other room with one of her soap operas going full blast before I wandered back over to the window that faced where Embry currently was outside. Staring out at him with my fingertips pressed against the glass.

I thought he’d caught me one time because he stopped what he was doing beneath the hood of the car to glance around the yard. I moved away from the window quickly, shaking my head and laughing at myself about it.

I’ll repeat. If Embry Call had one tenth of a clue the effect he had on me...

[stxphxn-strange]

i found the one, he changed my life (what now?) [i’d love it if we made it, pt. 3]

a/n: holy SHIT i am so happy about the way this turned out, this continues the story of college AU!tony dealing with his ex and the pressure he puts on himself to be honest with his friends. (title from “what now” by rihanna) TW: discussion of abusive relationships, mention of surgery, unhealthy/stalking behaviors, and i think that’s it but pls lmk if there’s anything else i should tag

summary: “He’s obsessed with you [...] I think he loves me, I feel certain that he loves me. But he feels some kind of way about you, and it’s creepy,” Bucky elaborated, leaving Anthony at a loss for words.

“It’s a nice day, seasonal allergies aside,” Anthony remarked.

“I would put flowers in your hair and be all cute and shit but I’m trying not to make you sneeze,” Stephen replied. “That would be unfortunate.”

Anthony laughed lightly and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. “You can still pet my head though, that would be nice.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re terrible at subtlety?” Stephen asked, beginning to play with Anthony’s hair.

“I think you did this morning,” Anthony replied. “Because you’re obnoxious.”

“Isn’t that why you love me?” Stephen teased, batting his eyelashes.

“It’s one of many reasons,” Anthony said, a soft smile on his face. “It is really nice out though.”

“Listen I know I’m always on time, but can we make an exception today?” Christine sat across from the couple, her auburn hair made extra bright by the sunlight as she pulled it out of her face. “Sorry I’m late.”

“The way that you’re literally not sorry at all makes that apology for me,” Stephen said. “Don’t worry about it though, we’ve just been hanging out. Where’s Hope?”

“Inside, for some reason,” Christine replied with a shrug.

“Probably because it’s allergy season,” Anthony commented, rolling his eyes as he sneezed again.

“He complains, despite begging me to sit outside with him,” Stephen added.

“That doesn’t sound like me, but go off I guess,” Anthony replied, picking up his phone. “Hey Rhodey, what’s up?”

“Are you running errands by chance?” Rhodey asked.

“Nope, I’m sitting outside with Steph and Christine,” Anthony said. “Why, do you need something?”

“I was just going to ask if I could send you a short list of things I wanted. Not a big deal but I’m out of cereal,” Rhodey replied.

“Text it to me anyway, I don’t think I’m going out but if I do I’ll get whatever you want,” Anthony said with a shrug.

“You’re the best Tones. By the way are you feeling better?” Rhodey asked.

“A little bit. It’s nice just sitting outside,” Anthony replied. “I dunno. I’m not thinking about it.”

“Fair enough. Enjoy the fresh air, don’t worry about the cereal though! See you later.”

“Bye Rhodey, everyone say bye!”

Christine and Stephen shouted their goodbyes as Anthony ended the call.

“You good?” Christine asked kindly.

“Yeah, sorta.” Anthony shrugged again. “I just didn’t sleep a lot last night, so that wasn’t fun. I’ve been stressed out about… things. Turns out it actually is weird to have one of your friends dating your ex.”

Christine hummed. “Tea. I thought there was something bothering you, like more than just the awkwardness. I can read you well enough by now. So what’s wrong?”

“Honestly I don’t want to tell you this exact minute because I feel like the only person who should hear this privately is Bucky. I’ll have to see how I feel after I talk with him, and if I’m okay then I’ll probably tell everyone in the group all at once. I just don’t want to repeat the same story over and over again, that’s going to wear me down,” Anthony replied. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh my god dude that’s fine! No stress,” Christine rushed to assure him. “You just seem sad and I want to help but I also don’t want you to make yourself feel worse, that’s not fair to you.”

Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Christine.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Christine said.

Anthony sneezed again, not seeing the need to reply beyond that. There was just nothing else to say.

“Let’s go inside,” Stephen suggested. “It’s getting kinda gross out anyway.”

“Oh sorry, that’s because I’m out here. I’ll leave.” Anthony jokingly moved to stand up, laughing raucously when Stephen pulled him into a hug before he even stood.

“Nooo, you’re good! You stay,” Stephen replied. “The sun is out because you’re here.”

Anthony blushed and buried his head against Stephen’s collarbone. “Oh hush.”

Christine stood up. “I may as well go inside while you two idiots keep flirting, now my allergies are acting up.”

“You’re not allergic to pollen,” Stephen remarked, standing up and offering Anthony his hand.

“I’m not allergic to most things, but I’m allergic to your bullshit,” Christine quipped. “I feel like I tell you that at least once a week.”

Anthony laughed and stood up, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Stephen’s waist.

“In all seriousness, you’re cute together,” Christine continued.

“Oh we know,” Anthony said. “How was your day Christine?”

The trio headed inside as Christine thought about how to answer.

“Honestly I don’t think anything even happened today.” she finally said. “Hope and I had breakfast together and I quite literally ran into Carol in the library. It was nice to catch up with her though because I feel like I haven’t seen her in years.”

��Now that I think about it, I also feel like I haven’t seen Carol in a long time,” Stephen said.

“We didn’t talk for too long since we were in the library, but she seems good,” Christine replied. “I think she and Val are still unpacking so they’ve been focused on that, y’know?”

“Makes sense. Props to them for moving in the middle of the year, that’s too much for me. That’s why I’m making everyone wait until the summer,” Anthony said.

“You’re not making anyone wait, you’re just making sense,” Stephen corrected him. “Moving is stressful enough, I don’t want to deal with it during exam season and neither does anyone else.”

“Can I plan your housewarming party?” Christine asked, opening the apartment door.

“Who said anything about a housewarming party?” Anthony replied.

“Wong said I could throw one once you’re all moved in,” Christine explained. “We don’t have a contract in writing yet, but that’s because—”

“Because I never said you could throw us a party!” Wong shouted from the living room. He was sitting in his usual armchair by the window, half paying attention to whatever show Bucky and an all too familiar blond were watching. “Also Bucky is here again, and he brought a friend.”

“Boyfriend,” Bucky chimed in. “We’re going to dinner soon, I just left my jacket here the other day and then I decided I’d introduce Steve to you guys. So yeah, this is my boyfriend Steve. Steve, this is Christine, Stephen, and I think you know Tony. I heard there’s a history there or something.”

Bucky was trying his best to prematurely make the best of an awkward situation, but Steve was the only one who found any humor in what he said.

The offending blond laughed and nodded, his expression unreadable in a way that made Anthony freeze. He was looking with condescension at their entwined hands, like he didn’t approve of Stephen and Anthony finally being together. With an arrogant sniff, he got off his high horse long enough to respond. “I know him and Stephen, actually. You both look good.”

“Thanks,” Stephen replied, his teeth bared in a forced, blatantly hostile grin.

Anthony rubbed at his eyes, tearing up from the situation and his allergies. “Yeah good to see you too, if you’ll excuse me I need to take some allergy medication.” He couldn’t run and hide in the bathroom fast enough, and he knew everyone in the room could see him trembling.

Stephen let his genuine emotion break through his façade for a moment, frowning as he watched Anthony retreat. His steely look of disapproval returned a minute later as he sat down in the kitchen, eavesdropping on the group’s conversation.

“Mind if I get some water? I didn’t get to hydrate as much today,” Steve asked.

Stephen, pretending to be busy, glared at his phone like he was reading a poorly worded email. He paid little attention to the blond as he bumbled around the kitchen, following Wong’s directions on where to find cups and the Brita and other shit.

“So you’ve finally come back to the city, hm? Tony used to tell me about how you both grew up here and how New York never left you,” Steve asked Stephen. He was making an extremely poor attempt to sound friendly, but all he did was make the med student extremely uncomfortable.

Stephen gave a forced laugh. “Yeah, they couldn’t keep me away.”

“Seems like you couldn’t keep yourself away from Tony either, not with the amount of times he cheated on me with you,” Steve remarked.

“Listen, we both know that’s not true and I barely want to give you the time of day. You know damn well he never cheated on you and I don’t have to justify myself to you. After all, you were the cheater. If you think I’m just going to roll over in my own apartment and let you run your mouth like that, especially knowing how badly you treated my Anthony, then you’ve got another thing coming,” Stephen snapped. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Clearly anyone who thinks I’m aggressive and controlling hasn’t met you,” Steve said, closing the fridge and leaving Stephen fuming in the kitchen.

After 15 minutes of ignoring some small talk, Stephen had had enough. Anthony was still hiding somewhere and Stephen was just over Steve being in his apartment. He was trying not to be too angry, because Bucky didn’t know about how Steve and Anthony’s breakup or relationship went. Stephen couldn’t, and didn’t, blame him.

But Steve was a coward and a jerk, and Stephen wouldn’t touch him with an 11 foot pole. Stephen wouldn’t even get close to him to shove him headfirst out the door, actually.

“I’m gonna be in my room studying if you guys need anything, enjoy your dinner Bucky!” He said, waving at his friends in the living room and pointedly ignoring Steve.

“Thanks man! If you want to hang out later, maybe on a double date or something—”

“Oh I’d love that!” Steve chimed in, unprovoked and uninvited.

“Depends on what Ant’s doing, I know I’m pretty busy tonight but if he wants to go out then we’ll let you know,” Stephen said firmly. He heard the bathroom door open behind him and Anthony’s light footsteps in the hall.

“I think I’ll just run to the bathroom before we leave, if that’s alright?” Steve asked.

“Are you asking me?” Stephen replied, ignoring him and heading in the direction of his bedroom. “Don’t you dare patronize me.”

Anthony was standing nervously outside Stephen’s room, staring at the floor. He looked horrified and meek, pressing his back against the wall and hoping he’d disappear out of Steve’s gaze.

But of course he wasn’t that lucky. Sometimes it felt like he’d never truly get away from the way Steve used to look at him and was apparently still looking at him.

Anthony looked up as Stephen gently tapped his shoulder. “Hey… you alright?”

He forced himself to nod, tears still pooling in his eyes from either anxiety or allergies. Maybe both. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—”

“Oh there you are Tony! Bucky and I are leaving, so I thought I’d say goodbye,” Steve said, lingering in the doorway to the bathroom. “Maybe we could go for a double date later? If you’re allowed to, that is. I always said Strange was a controlling downgrade, didn’t I?”

“Good thing I never listened when you said that, because I’m much happier now,” Anthony muttered.

“Aww, don’t be a bad sport! It’ll be just like the glory days.” Steve appeared to be ignoring his current relationship to flirt with Anthony, stepping out of the doorway and leaning closer (read: too close for comfort) to him.

“I don’t know about that,” Anthony said, his voice taut. “I wouldn’t want to be around you for much longer. Seeing you is already making me think about our… could you call it a relationship?”

“You’re so funny Tony, just as funny as I remember.” Steve sounded like a content house cat as he quite literally purred at Tony. “I miss that humor. I just miss you.”

“I can’t say the feeling is mutual.”

++++

“Not to state the obvious, but I hate that guy,” Stephen muttered, storming into the kitchen a few hours later.

“Is Ant okay?” Wong hadn’t moved from his seat in the living room, except for the fact that he was laying across the armchair sideways and there were three more mystery novels next to him.

“He’s sleeping. Even before all of that shit went down,” Stephen began, gesturing to the air in front of him, “We were outside for long enough that even if he won’t admit it, his allergies are bothering him.”

“How long were you outside for before I came to sit with you guys?” Christine asked.

“Maybe 90 minutes? Long enough to be considered too long,” Stephen replied. “It doesn’t matter. Did you guys eat yet?”

“No, we were waiting on you and Pepper. She said she’d be back by 7,” Christine said.

“What do you want? I’m open to suggestions,” Stephen asked. “I kinda want to make pasta but I know I’m not good enough at it so it wouldn’t make Anthony happy.”

“Don’t be stupid, Stephen. It absolutely would, and you know that,” Christine scolded him. “Do whatever you feel like! And I think pasta sounds nice.”

Stephen nodded. “Fair enough. I’m making ravioli and none of you can stop me. We deserve it.”

“Oh no Stephen don’t do that, don’t make something that you like to cook and that we all like to eat,” Wong teased. “Christine, he’s too powerful, we have to stop him.”

Stephen humorously rolled his eyes. “Anthony is the one who gave me a good recipe, so technically we all have him to thank for enabling me. Except not right now. Let him sleep.”

++++

“Oh by the way, I told Bucky that I’d get coffee with him later and we’re going to talk about whatever the hell happened this weekend,” Anthony said. “Do you want me to bring you back anything while I’m out?”

“Hmm… I don’t think so.” Stephen drew a heart on the back of Anthony’s hand with his thumb, something he noticed himself doing a lot.

Anthony always rewarded him for the gesture with the smallest, shyest smile that Stephen thought was the most adorable thing ever. “Text me if you change your mind, yeah?”

“Okay, I will.” Stephen smiled back at him, lovingly brushing Anthony’s hair out of his face. “Also if I send you a list will you help me decide on a movie for tonight?”

“Not sure you’re asking the right person, but sure,” Anthony replied.

“That’s subjective. I think I’m asking the right person,” Stephen said. “You’ve never steered me wrong before.”

“I hope I never do.” Anthony pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Stephen’s lips. “But knowing you, you’ll definitely change your mind about wanting a tea or something.”

“If I do, I’ll tell you,” Stephen replied, smiling into the kiss. “Promise. Have a good day, and good luck later.”

“I think I’m going to need it,” Anthony said with a little nervous laugh.

“Would a kiss help your luck?” Stephen couldn’t keep a neutral face. “I never imagined myself saying that. Or getting to kiss you.”

“Stop it, don’t make me blush this early in the day,” Anthony replied. “In all seriousness, I love you. And your kisses are magical, who’s to say they aren’t lucky?”

++++

Anthony couldn’t say whether or not he felt lucky later that day, because the only thing he felt was nervous. Bucky looked just as nervous and sheepish as Anthony did, and his internal monologue had already switched to guilt. They exchanged small talk and pleasantries while they waited for their coffee, their mutual discomfort becoming more and more tangible by the minute.

Most people joked that Anthony talked to hear the sound of his own voice, but today he was so nervous he couldn’t hear himself think. He didn’t know what to say or even where to start. Thankfully, Bucky blurted out a question before Anthony thought about how to start the conversation.

“How long were you two together?”

“Two and a half years, give or take. And I didn’t cheat on him with Stephen.”

“I didn’t think so. I wasn’t even going to ask about that.” Bucky smiled, trying to somehow calm Anthony down with his expression. “Who broke it off?”

“Me. Sometimes I feel like I did it a lot later than I should have, honestly.” Anthony shrugged. “I wasn’t ever happy in that relationship. I wanted to be, and I did everything I could to make it work even at my own expense, but eventually I had to end it. I’m happier now, but sometimes I still… I shouldn’t say any of this to you, not if you’re happy.”

“You know what bothers me, though?”

Anthony wasn’t expecting that. “What’s up?”

“I don’t think he’s over you. And that doesn’t bother me in a jealous sense, I’m not like that, but I feel almost used. Especially after this weekend,” Bucky said.

“What do you mean?” That worried Anthony for a lot of reasons, and he couldn’t decide which one was the most important.

“Tony, he's obsessed with you. The entire time we were driving Sunday night he wouldn’t stop talking about you, to the point where it was weird. I started to feel like he used me to see you,” Bucky replied. “One time I showed him a group picture, this was like six months ago, from that time we went out ice skating and ever since then he’s been pestering me about you. I don’t even think it has anything to do with me, if that makes sense.”

“I’m not following,” Anthony admitted. “Not entirely, anyway.”

“I think he loves me, I feel certain that he loves me. But he feels some kind of way about you, and it’s creepy,” Bucky said. “Now as I said it’s not jealousy, I just think it’s a bit disturbing that he’s so hung up on you.”

Anthony nodded slowly. “Yeah, I don’t like that. He didn’t want me to dump him but I had to, there’s no two ways about it. What happened Sunday?”

“We had a disagreement. I told him I felt used and he wasn’t happy about that, but he didn’t deny it either,” Bucky replied. “I was hoping he’d drop the whole thing but I don’t think he’s going to. I don’t think he’s going to ever get over you, honestly.”

“Damn. I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that.” Anthony nervously ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to pull at it. “Um… yeah I don’t really know what to think or what to say.”

“Neither do I,” Bucky admitted. “I really want to try things out with him and see how they continue, but I also don’t think he’s going to change. Now that he’s actually seen you, I feel like it’s only going to be more awkward.”

“Oh about that, I’m sorry I didn’t want to go out the other day,” Anthony said. “I was going to try and make myself power through it, but… just being around him for however long you guys were in the apartment was way too much. I got really anxious and just hid in Stephen’s room. And then, on an unrelated note, I ended up sleeping for 14 hours or something.”

“I’m sorry if I was forceful. I didn’t know how to subtly ask if he was making you uncomfortable in the moment, but I could see it,” Bucky replied. “I don’t blame you.”

Anthony shrugged. “Dude I’m at a loss, generally speaking. I don’t know what to say about everything you just told me, but honestly I’m feeling a little sick.”

“Are you going to see Stephen? I’m meeting Christine, so if you want I’ll walk with you,” Bucky offered.

Anthony nodded. “Sure.”

“I really am sorry, Tony. For everything this weekend, and if something I said upset you after your wisdom tooth surgery,” Bucky said.

“It’s not your fault. I’ve been stressing about how to tell everyone about that relationship for too long and the way I felt when I woke up just reminded me of something I still don’t really want to talk about,” Anthony replied. “There’s a lot I’m holding back, even from you, but I’m just not ready to go into all of that yet.”

“I won’t be upset if you tell me,” Bucky tried to comfort him.

“It’s less about that and more the fact that I don’t want to even think about it. I don’t want to think about him,” Anthony said. “I don’t want to hear his voice, or see him, or even hear about him, if I’m being honest. And I feel bad, because I know you love him, but—”

“But you’re my friend, and I care about you. Plus you’re way too polite to be direct when something or someone upsets you and I think that does more harm than good. You just end up keeping everything to yourself, and you don’t have to,” Bucky interrupted. “You don’t have to be a closed book all the time.”

Anthony smiled at that. “Stephen’s said that to me before. I don’t know why, but I like that phrasing. I’m not one to open up in general, even though I trust everyone in our friend group, but this feels like it’s too much to get into the open right now. Someday I’ll be ready, but not today. It doesn’t help that this weekend was honestly too soon.”

“That’s fair man,” Bucky replied. “I don’t have to tell you that Stephen loves the shit out of you, and you deserve that.”

“I could go on and on about Steph probably endlessly,” Anthony said, hiding his face as he blushed.

“Everyone knows that, even people who have never met either of you know that!” Bucky teased. “But honestly, are you okay?”

Anthony shrugged. “Yes and no. I just need time.”

“I understand. And I am really, really sorry about this weekend,” Bucky replied. “Forgive me?”

Anthony shook his head. “Do I need to? It’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not, but still… I’m sorry. I hope that means something, at least.”

tags: @stark-strange-love2 @taruyison @chocopiggy @majesticnerdynerd @spooky-n-spunky @merlynthedisasterchild @kitkatfat15 @maya-custodios-dionach @katninjagirl97

[occasionallyish--archive]

Username history;; occasionallyish -> spoonforsoupp -> occasionallyish--archive

New Year, new masterpost! You can check out my old sort-of masterpost here.

(Whole thing was revamped on 16/04/2021 btw)

Welcome to my blog, by the way! On here I go by Ish or Shayne.

I'm a bigender boy, meaning I prefer he/him pronouns but I'm neutral about she/her, and otherwise don't respond to any other pronouns. Also, if you're gonna use gendered words for me– Boy, sir, mister, guy, man... Y'know. You should use exclusively masculine gendered words.

I reblog a lot and often rant about my fandoms lol– Otherwise there isn't much of a guarantee of what kind of content you'd be signing up for, by following me. Fair warning though, I do sometimes swear and do sometimes make inappropriate jokes.

Also, I should say, I’m a minor. I’m not uncomfortable with interacting with adults, but I’ve got a post linked somewhere below about setting boundaries with ‘em. If you’re 18 or above, you should read it!

I already have a list of trigger tags I try to tag consistently. If you follow my blog and have any tags you’d rather I add to the list, please please lmk and I will try to get into the habit of tagging such! This applies to general triggers and to specific fears.

-

important posts abt my blog

setting boundaries with adults here

people that give me hives here

setting boundaries with dsmp fans here

-

posts of mine i am really proud of

bnha boys headcanons - needed somewhere to put my favs - here

diverse bakusquad au - m. my original au lol - here

ftm!kirishima prompt - ftm ei is my ride or die - here

lil guy and - he was a lil guy andi got really attached ok - here

poetic love - a really pretty spilled ink post - here

-

other blogs you should follow

@euphorically-bisexual - sorry for waiting so long to add you!!! but you're here now!! and i love you!!!!!!

@imaverycatgirl - very gender and very entertaining go follow her

@nostalgebraist-autoresponder - frank is an ai but she is god go worship her

@that-house - the god king of the world, and also go read his book

-

fandom tags

(this only applies to fandoms that i post abt! my list of fandoms is ever-growing lol, but this list of tags will only grow as i create content about such)

#bnisha - boku no hero academia - here

#fishemblem - fire emblem (3 houses) - here

#haishkyuu - haikyuu!! - here

-

broad tags

#artisht - drawing - here

#ishnt okay - vent - here

#lishterature - writing - here

-

trigger tags

#bold - #tw bold - #bold tw

#big text - #tw big text - #big text tw

#caps - #tw caps - #caps tw

#cutting - #tw cutting - #cutting tw - #cutting mention

#gore - #tw gore - #gore tw

#long post

#[media] spoiler - #[media] spoilers

#suicide - #tw suicide - #suicide tw - #suicide mention

#swearing - #tw swearing - #swearing tw

[spiderweb-bf]

hey I just wanted to mention that food should absolutely never be a tw .. like certain specific types of food absolutely but the idea that food itself is a trigger is completely a pro-ana/anti-recovery sentiment.. seeing food and being hungry is normal and healthy and treating food like it's something scary or bad does nothing but help diet culture and pro-ed circles. I don't think ur a bad person or anything bc I get that if someone asks you to tag something it's rude to say no in general but in this case specifically think abt why they might be asking u to stigmatize food and eating

okay so you make a lot of really good points. i personally would disagree that it's pro ana or anti recovery, but I can see your point about how putting a tw could be stigmatizing food.

nobody specifically asked me to tag food, it's just been something I've always done on here bc i saw a lot of other people (mostly stimboard/moodboard blogs) doing it and, more importantly, it made a lot of sense to me. I've never had an ED and won't claim to, but I went through a year and a half maybe two years where I was participating in some really really restrictive and unhealthy dieting. I had a really horrible relationship with food and my body. and even when I was in a bit of a recovery stage where I was trying to develop a healthier relationship with food, food was still not something I wanted to see or hear about all the time. not because of any pro ana or anti-food reasons, but simply because food reminded me of work because recovery is hard work. I didn't want to open up tumblr expecting some memes and aesthetic posts only to end up over analyzing my recovery and whether it was working and what i needed to do next to improve my mental health etc etc. like it's good to analyze those things! but not unexpectedly on tumblr at 2 a.m. it's just hard bc food is literally everywhere irl... on billboards on the side of the highway, on TV, in conversation and it was very easy for me to start overthinking. "how does this billboard make me feel? how do i feel when i see a food i consider 'bad' being advertised in a commercial, and how can i stop assigning morals to these foods? am i comparing what i eat to what i see that others are eating?" helpful questions for recovery but when food is everywhere and you're constantly analyzing your relationship with it, it can be draining. so i could see why people wouldn't want to see it all over their social media too.

so the point that I'm laboriously trying to get at is that I always understood why people would tag food with a tw, because it made sense to me personally. but I also totally understand your point and to be truthful I'm really conflicted about this.

I agree with you when you say certain types of foods can be a trigger (like for instance, some people with trypophobia don't like looking at strawberries) so I think I can come to a compromise with you anon. I'll stop using the food tw tag but I'll tag all the foods in the image separately (without putting tw after it bc again I can see how that could be stigmatizing). so for example just something like #strawberries that way it's not adding any negative association to food - but people who, for whatever reason, don't want to see that specfic food can just filter that specific tag.

does that sound okay to you? sorry this is kind of long. lmk if there's anything else I should know or do