#patron saint fics

[themetaphorgirl]

yall I am SOBBING I love this so much I am EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED

Sicktember 2024 #7: Borrowed Hoodie

The idea for this was, literally, "Aaron’s hoodie being passed around like a healing balm." It was @themetaphorgirl's prompt, and I love her for it, because if there's anything I love, it's when the person that's usually the whumpee becomes the caretaker, even in the short form. Honorable mention comment goes to @fragolinaa, who said, and I quote: "Alex calling him Aaron is the equivalent of showing a glock"

Spencer

“I’m tired,” Spencer mumbled against Aaron’s side. It was Friday night, and they were at another one of Derek’s football games. Aaron knew the rules of football against his will, having been Derek’s roommate the year before, but it seemed that no matter how many times he tried to explain them to Spencer, it wasn’t sticking.

That, or Spencer couldn’t get over why a sport about passing and running had to be so violent. He didn’t like it when they tackled one another, which was every play, and he really didn’t like it when Derek got tackled. 

“I know, Bug,” Aaron said gently, pulling Spencer closer to him as his eyes stayed locked on the field. It was getting colder as the season went on, and Spencer was shivering, so some extra snuggles were in order.

“I wanna go home,” Spencer whined, flopping down so his head could lay in Aaron’s lap. 

Aaron ruffled his hair. “I know, Bug,” he echoed. “The game’s almost over. I told Derek we’d try to stay for the whole thing. There’s four minutes left.”

“That could take a million years,” Spencer mumbled, and when Aaron’s hand paused against Spencer’s scalp, he noticed how warm his ‘little brother’ felt. 

His mouth tugged down into a frown, and he looked over at Alex, but she wasn’t watching them. She was buried in her book, her back against James’ side while he watched with rapt attention. James liked to give Derek specific praise after his games – something he said that Ned always did for him – and while it was sweet, it made him oblivious to the world for the two hours they were on the bleachers.

“Bug?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer nestled further into Aaron’s lap, the tip of his thumb between his teeth. “Mm. ‘m cold.”

Aaron sighed. Spencer ran mystery fevers all the time, and they usually found out the cause later in the night, or the next day. Some cold, or flu, or worse, a stomach bug that reared its ugly head and made them all stressed out for a week, and usually got Aaron sick, too, in the process.

He thought for a second before stripping off his hoodie, and then laying it over Spencer like a blanket. Spencer sighed in relief, snuggling into it and balling his fists in the soft, blue fabric.

“That help?” Aaron asked, and Spencer nodded sleepily, closing his eyes as he turned his face into Aaron’s stomach. 

“Uh huh. Thanks, Bubba.” __________

Alex

They’d been fighting about it for five entire minutes.

“Birdy, come on.”

“I’m fine, Aaron. Leave me alone.”

Aaron, not Bubba. I really must have done it this time.

“I won’t,” Aaron said, moving to try to stop her as she marched down the sidewalk. “You’ve been trying to dodge us all day, I barely caught you now, and I had to ask Penelope for your work schedule.”

“How did Penelope get my work schedule?”

Aaron gestured vaguely, moving again so he was in front of his pseudo-twin. “Penelope could find the president’s schedule if she wanted to.”

Alex rolled her eyes, not moving to push back the hair that was blocking some of her face from his view. She always pulled her hair away from her face, she’d said once that it was a sensory nightmare, but she didn’t have a headband or a clip pulling it back, and it wasn’t in a ponytail or a braid like she usually did.

“Are you mad at me? Is this about Spencer? Because if you’re mad at me, you shouldn’t be avoiding everyone, just tell me what I did.”

Alex huffed, pushing past him again. “I’m not mad at you, you’re reading into it.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, but then used his lank to his advantage, stepping in front of her again. He put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her in place, and bent a little to look her in the face.

“Birdy, please, come on. Spencer’s worried, he doesn’t know why you’re avoiding him.” When he said it he knew it was a low blow, but he was starting to feel anxiety like bubbles popping in his chest. “I told him I’d make sure you were at dinner.”

Alex looked up at him after a second, some of her face still blocked by her hair,, and if looks could kill, he would have been six feet under.

“Let go of me, Aaron.”

“Alex–”

“I have homework to do. I’ve got too many things–”

Her words cut off as she shuddered under his hands, goosebumps erupting on her arms as she shivered in weather that was already too warm for him to be wearing his hoodie in the first place.

“Woah,” he said reflexively, “Are you… cold?”

She shook her head quickly and shivered again, before tucking her face away from him, and he didn’t even think as he reached out and gently grabbed her chin, turning her head so he could actually see her face.

When he did, everything clicked into place.

“Holy shit, Alex, you look awful.”

She frowned, and to his horror, her lower lip started trembling. “Stop, Aaron–”

“No way, Bird,” he said, the popping of anxiety in his chest going from slow moving bubbles to sparks like fireworks. “No wonder you’ve been a ghost today, you should be in bed, not running around trying to dodge us.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to say, but it was painfully obvious she wasn’t, and Aaron took a second to breathe before he was rubbing his hands up and down her arms, trying to help somehow. He was good at taking care of Spencer, but Spencer was ten.

Plus, Alex was usually the one taking care of him, and Spencer, so how was he supposed to do anything to help her?

“We should… find James. I’ll text James. He can meet us back at my room, and he’ll know what to do.”

She started to protest, but as she shivered harshly again, all of the fight seemed to go out of her. Her eyes started to fill with tears, and she nodded slowly. 

“Okay.”

He thought for a second before unzipping his hoodie, and he helped her thread her arms through the sleeves before zipping it for her. It hung like a dress down to the middle of her thighs, but she didn’t seem to notice, or felt too awful to care.

After a moment she leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in the fabric of his shirt. 

“Thanks, Bubba.”

“Of course,” he said automatically. “Of course, Birdy.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.” __________

Haley

“You don’t have to do this, Ari. It’s sweet, but you’re gonna–”

“Hay, James said you probably should be with someone to watch your fever. It’s fine, I don’t care about getting sick. I care about you.”

Haley sat next to him on the bench outside of Roosevelt house, her head laying against his arm as he tried to coax her into following him back to Lincoln house. He’d thought she was acting weird at dinner, and by the time she’d finally admitted to him that she wasn’t feeling all that great, Alex and James had taken Spencer back with them and the others, granting them enough privacy for him to convince her to let him help.

She’d fought going to the nurse harder than he thought she would, but he’d been able to convince her to on the thermometer in his backpack, normally reserved for Spencer. After that he’d called James, and she’d already gone inside and grabbed a tote bag with the things she thought she might need.

When she’d gone in she’d been wearing his hoodie, which he’d given her even after she’d protested that she was going to get germs on it, and he’d fully scoffed. Odds were he was going to get sick anyway. When she’d come out with her bag and was still wearing it, he’d told the bees in his stomach to knock it the fuck off.

“Harper just…” she turned and muffled a cough into her elbow, but he finished the thought for her. “Is the worst?”

She laughed and shook her head, clearing her throat before speaking again.

“She just gets really freaked out about getting sick and missing class, and missing cheer. It’s like, she would rather die.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” Aaron said simply, rubbing Haley’s back. She’d started shivering again, and it was making him anxious. “People get sick all the time. Spencer and I get sick all the time. You’ve got like, a cold virus or something, and it’ll go away.”

Haley turned and raised a weak eyebrow at him. “A cold virus, or something?”

“I don’t want to be a doctor,” he said simply. “I want to be a lawyer.”

“A man with ambition,” she said, teasing him, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. She was more miserable than she was letting on. “I like that.”

“And I like you feeling well,” he said, standing up and offering her his hand. “Come on, Haley. It’s alright, I promise.”

She looked up at him, glassy eyed and fever flushed, and sniffled quietly before taking his hand and letting him help her up. He grabbed her bag, even though she protested, and couldn’t help but feel a swell of fondness at the fact that his hoodie dwarfed her, the sleeve pooling around their connected hands while the other completely covered her hand. He nodded towards it, giving her a shy smile.

“When JJ’s cardigans do that to Spencer’s hands, she calls it ‘Sweater Paws,’ like he’s a kitten.”

“Are you calling me a baby?” She said, but she laughed listlessly, so he knew she wasn’t serious.

“It’s cute,” he said, trying and failing to not blush like a moron.

“Well, maybe I should wear your jackets more often. Not just because I’m so cold.”

“You’re hot.”

“Wow. Forward.”

“I mean–!” He blushed darker, fumbling for the right words. “You know what I meant! You have a fever!”

“I know, I shouldn’t be giving you a hard time,” she said, leaning her head against his arm as they walked. “Thanks for letting me stay. I feel silly about it.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I already said it, I don’t care about getting sick. I care about you.” ___________

James

James was raising an eyebrow at him, though it looked misplaced on his pale yet darkly flushed face.

“Your hoodie won’t fit me.”

“Try me,” Aaron said, holding it out to him. “Or do I need to help you put it on?”

James grumbled, taking it from him. “This is silly.”

“You’re the one that tried to hide in a study room to finish homework instead of calling your dad and telling him to pick you up in the first place.”

“I didn’t know Penelope had tagged us.”

“Well,” Aaron said, “Yeah, the ethics on that are sketchy. But how else was Alex supposed to find you when you didn’t show up after classes let out? And then no one could find you for two hours until Penny finally ratted on herself!”

He hadn’t meant to get a little loud, and only noticed when James winced and rubbed at his temples, but James was usually their rock. The fact that he’d been the one to go MIA hadn’t sat right, and he’d been fighting off the anxiety ever since.

“I didn’t mean to worry everyone,” James said quietly. He’d pulled Aaron’s hoodie on, which had stopped the fever chills a little bit, and had fit, which Aaron had known it would. It was just baggy enough in the shoulders to fit James’ broader ones. “I wanted the opposite.”

“Well you got the not-opposite,” Aaron said, way too flustered to think of a good retort. Instead he stared at James longer than was appropriate, and was startled when someone honked their car horn.

“Shit,” he said at the same time that James said, “Stars,” like they were in a southern sitcom.

“Jeff, cut it out!”

Ned was walking up to them, concern etched onto his face, while Jeff, his best friend and bakery partner, was sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, sheepishly waving and mouthing “sorry.”

Aaron liked Ned. Ned was a good dad.

“Mini, why in the world would you have stayed here feeling bad when you know I would’a come to get you right quick had you called? Alex sounded worried out of her mind.”

“That’s just Alex,” James said, but Aaron watched him quickly wilt as he laid eyes on his dad. “It’s not that bad.”

“He’s got a fever over a hundred n’ one,” Aaron said, his accent strengthening the second he heard Ned talk. “He’s full’a crap.”

Ned nodded at Aaron, ruffling his hair before he grabbed James’ backpack off the ground. “Thanks, Bubba. Charlie’s anxious to get him back. Mama’s worried.”

He said it in James’ direction, but didn’t take his eyes off Aaron, and it made him feel warm inside.

James got up to walk with him back to the car, mumbling a thanks to Aaron, but was half way there when he turned around.

“Oh, Aaron, this is your hoodie.” He started moving sluggishly to take it off, but Aaron shook his head. 

“It’s fine. I’m not worried about it.”

“Didn’t your brother pick it for you, though? It’s important.”

Aaron nodded, taking a beat before shrugging. “It is. A, um. A different brother needs it right now.”

He watched as James’ face went from confused to thoughtful, a small and sheepish smile crossing his face before he nodded, turned, and followed Ned to the car.

[rabbitcrimes]

Me 4 hours into my date like . And he’s a fox and gets his head stuck in a peanut butter jar, and he’s so sad, but then the nice animal control man comes and helps him get his head un stuck and then he’s not sad anymore

[fistfuloflightning]

I was thinking if we have liushang then we can have moshen and since SQQ is taken we have Binghe open so I propose bingfan gets thrown into the mix

(I just saw your liuhhang/moshen post while looking through the liushang tag)

🤣🤣 either you’ve seen my Bingfan tag or you know me too well! I’ve been a sucker for their dynamics for a while (and I’m incredibly allergic to Bingqiu of any variety so…yeah) And I am completely down for this au—tho I usually lean towards rogue cultivator!SY and/or SY adopting LBH, so I would be interested to see how this plots out esp when Cang Qiong finds out he’s half heavenly demon and his stepdad is also a demon. I can see Ming Fan being incredibly conflicted but ultimately choosing to follow LBH when he’s forced to flee the sect (and maybe stumbling into SY, who helps them?). I can see Liushang being the team chosen to hunt him down—unsure if this is transmigrated SQH or og!SQH, but either would be incredibly confused at the turn of events (for veeery different reasons lol). Cue a mass manhunt (esp once Huan Hua Palace gets involved when the OPM finds out LBH’s existence 😰) and the entire jianghu is turned upside down and certain skeletons get dragged out of the closet (ie Tianlang-jun’s wrongful imprisonment, SXY’s betrayal and death, etc) which SQH digs up for his own use against his enemies (…actually I’m starting to lean towards og!SQH, more of a toxic snake and I’d love to see his interactions with the righteous LQG hehe). I can only speculate a possible plot from here, since this au is getting out of hand lmao 😅

Apologies for the rambling but you made my brain start to gnaw on au possibilities which are my favorite 💕 Thank you!!

[mortimerlatrice]

Ghost stumbles on the body countless days after he ran away. Protectively wrapped in vines and flowers, the man isn't dead — his chest is raising and lowering in a barely visible rhythm — but he doesn't seem to be quite alive either. Every time Ghost tries to untangle him, the vines seem to wrap more securely around his limbs so Ghost gives up.

He can't bring himself to abandon the sleeping man, though. He begins work on a shelter for himself and his horse.

Days blur into months and soon he has a small farm. It's nowhere near the size of his home, but the ground is more fertile than most and everything he plants produces in abundance. He's also accumulated quite a few animal companions - many of them wandering in from the surrounding fields or the forest, seemingly abandoned or having run away from their old lives too. He doesn't build fences to keep them in, but, like himself, many of them stay anyway.

Ghost begins to call the sleeping man dreamer, and without other human companionship, he talks to the dreamer most days.

One morning, after a heavy rainstorm, Ghost walks out his door and comes face to face with himself. A wave of fear spikes through him and settles heavy in his gut. He's been found.

Then all at once the panic drains out of him when he recognizes his dreamer. Seemingly awake, if a little glassy eyed, and staring right at him.

[themetaphorgirl]

Whumptober #15: Patron Saint of Lost Causes

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Prompted by @quiddoditto

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

Spencer still doesn’t know that this time he doesn’t have to try to earn anyone’s love.

Mom didn’t like to be touched most of the time. She liked it when he read quietly, usually in his room. He made sure to read all the books she liked, she was happiest when he could talk to her about them. And as long as she was happy, he was happy. He didn’t mind that his clothes weren’t nice or clean, or that sometimes he went hungry, or that the house was filthy and cluttered with her collections. He kept to himself, and cleaned up after himself, and figured out how to keep himself fed.  It was like a little transaction database in his head. Reading quietly so Mom could work on her research, positive. Asking Mom to make dinner when she was busy, negative. Cleaning up her broken coffee cup after she threw it, positive. The most positive things he did, the happier Mom was. He could manage that.

Read here!

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

i wrote this mostly because, if these two really sat down to talk after everything, i think the name and pronoun situations would be extremely fucky on multiple fronts and i think that's fun.

so, i present to you, a fragment of a draft in which harrow and paul have a heart-to-heart.

-

Paul sat at the table while she worked. She could feel their eyes on her, and she got the sense that they wanted very badly to say something to her. They were reminding her of Teacher—of John—almost, that way he had of letting his thoughts build up in the air until she could almost raise a palm and catch one, like a spiderweb. She had hated it when he did that. But he had been her God. Paul was only her housemate and, theoretically, her friend.

"What?" she asked, not turning around.

The answer was delayed by several seconds. "Nothing."

"I am sick and tired of being lied to, Sixth, and I think you are, too. You've been staring at me for weeks. I cannot take this anymore."

"You…remind me of someone."

"The B– Alecto?"

"No. I mean, yes. But no."

"I don't understand."

"I don't suppose we ever told you the whole story. About her." They paused, seemed to steel themself. "She wasn't…she wasn't like you knew her. She was– She needed help. We had to care for her."

Harrow thought of the Alecto she had known, the goddess-thing who had been so ancient, so raw, and yet so distinctly inhuman. So unable to pretend to be human. She thought of her own body, which had been inviolate for so many years, so carefully distanced, so brutally maintained. She felt a bit sick. "What kind of care?"

"She wasn't accustomed to the shape of a body. She didn't know quite how to manipulate it, at first. And she didn't understand certain things. Why they were done, what made them necessary. The maintenance, you know. Eating, exercising, bathing."

"Bathing?" Paul was looking at her with a frank, doctorly sincerity. They were not embarrassed or ashamed, and Harrow didn't know if she wanted them to be. They had helped Alecto bathe. They had helped Alecto bathe her body. She hated how much it bothered her.

"We weren't sure how to tell you. Pyrrha and I, I mean. The extent of it."

"I see."

"I'm sorry about the staring. I didn't realize I was doing it. It's just been difficult, you see, to stop. For months we were trying to get her to eat, and putting her to bed at a certain time, and reminding her to bathe. It's been hard to watch you. To know that I have no right to say anything."

Harrow contemplated all the things she could say to that. All the things she may once have said to that. But there was only one thing, really. One important thing. One thing that she couldn't quite figure out how to ask. In the end, with no idea how to achieve subtlety, she was blunt. "Did you love her?"

"Yes." The answer was immediate and firmly punctuated. There was no question in it. "God, yes. I still do. Not like I should've, though. We–they–I didn't love her like she deserved to be loved. It was selfish what I– What they–” They blinked hard. “It was selfish to leave her."

"You talk about her like she was a child."

"She wasn't, exactly, and we all knew she wasn't. Palamedes was the most adamant in not treating her like one, I think. But all of us struggled to remember that sometimes. It was so easy to pretend."

This wasn't right. This felt a little like the moment when Augustine had kissed John at the dinner table, the sudden and violent mundanity. The reminder that the sacred and untouchable was actually imminently touchable and may even like it, and it was similarly alien to her. It was blasphemous and strange and wrong, and it was something else, too. A nagging, needling something else, just beneath her understanding. She wanted to stop thinking about it. She said, "Is that why you haven't been sleeping? Are you grieving her?"

She regretted it immediately, but Paul only got a faraway look in their strange, muddy eyes. It was thoughtful in a numb, sleep-deprived sort of way, a visible turning of gears. "Yes," they said. "sort of."

Harrow didn't want to ask further questions. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She didn't know the protocol for these sorts of conversations, was floundering without a script. But after a long moment of thought, Paul said, "I– Camilla–” Sigh. “Part of me still isn't used to sleeping alone."

Harrow was startled. "Is soul melange not–"

"What they don't tell you about becoming one person," said Paul, cutting her off, "is that, afterwards, you're still only one person. I wouldn't go back for the world, but…well. I don't have to explain this to you, do I? You of all people."

"I suppose I can understand," said Harrow, and she thought of Gideon, snoring soundly just down the hall, whole and real and autonomous and alive, and she understood completely.

Belatedly, she registered the implications of what they had said.

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #140

FRIDAY has news alerts set up for Spider-Man. This doesn't change during the blip, even though the kid is gone

One day, there's breaking news that Spider-Man is standing on the roof of some extremely tall building. This is during the blip, and no one has seen him in years.

No one has seen Iron Man either, which is why it's so crazy that he's suddenly shooting through the sky

When Tony arrives, he discovers that in fact his kid has NOT spontaneously un-dusted. It's actually just a civilian dressed as Spider-Man. It becomes clear the person was planning to commit suicide. The costume was for courage.

Even with his heart breaking from the false alarm, Tony talks the person down. He says that Spider-Man, too, lost almost his entire family. That he was still the best person Tony knew. At some point, when the person mentions losing a child in the blip, Tony says he understands how they feel.

Once the person has agreed not to jump and calmed down, they realize how unusual the situation is, remembering suddenly that Tony Stark hasn't been seen in public since the snap. They ask Tony, mostly just wondering out loud: why now?

Tony's eyes go to the suit for just long enough for the person to realize. They recall what he'd said about losing a child, and they realize with horror the emotional hell they just unleashed on Iron Man

When they start to stumble out an apology, though, Tony waves them off. He says that Spider-Man would love the idea that he was still helping people, even without being there. And he would love that in some way he'd gotten Tony back out there and helping people too.

Before they part ways, Tony asks the person to consider the suit a symbol of the courage to keep going, not to give up

The person responds, "you too."

[felixravinstills]

Rat Au………..

wip game

Festixia Rat AU is unfortunately not an AU where those three (Felix, Festus, and my oc Artemisia) are rats. Idk if you thought that, but I feel the need to clarify that.

It does contain Felix Ravinstill and his 36 pet rats. A different man altogether than Felix Ravinstill without his 36 pet rats.

It's one of the newer fics, and it doesn't have any real direction other than try and write a happy Festixia ending that maybe doesn't imply that the corrupt and unequal system continues longer because of that.

It begins with Felix telling Artemisia at age 8 or 9 that he doesn't (at the moment) like her romantically after she declares her intention to marry him (see Ch. 1 of Close Your Eyes). Afraid that he's upset his friend, however, he pulls out Aesop the Rat and allows her to take him home. <- This is what leads to the inciting incident of the story (learning what the hell is going on at the Click house) and also all I've got so far. I imagine the power of rats does a lot to help the throuple out though, beyond better communication skills.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

the poetry of Bruce losing Jason, his son, and through that having Tim (a mirror, always a mirror) come into his life. of a kid who's never done a thing wrong except for reaching out a hand into the darkness to offer kindness to those the world would call monsters carrying on the legacy of a kid who was killed by the worst monster of all. of that kid who was killed coming back monstrous himself and taking out all his hatred on the one kid who could never hate him back. of a brother who wasn't a brother in time getting a second chance. of a family who hides so much of themselves gaining a child and a sibling who sees them so easily and clearly for who they are. of a kid whose family wasn't there finding himself in a family that chooses, over and over again, to be there. of pain and healing coming from the same place. I'm just emotional about Tim Drake tonight, ladies

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

hi there! I just found your blog looking for gifs/pics of Benedict Cumberbatch from the movie Power Of The Dog.... I think you know from which scenes if you know what I mean lmao *wink*... anyway, I gotta say I love your blog and I love Benedict, don't mind me just mass liking your posts of that sexy sexy man *drool* - I especially love your tag 'patron saint of sinful women' *drools more*

Thank you so much for the many, many likes, my dear - it's been wonderful looking back at older posts of My Beautiful Obsession when they come up in my notifications, as well as rediscovering some of the sauciest tags and other things I've written about him! Benedict is a gift that keeps on giving, and I (like most of the fandom) find that he just gets more delightful & delicious with each passing year.

If you haven't already discovered his large body of work (I'm guessing you've seen his Doctor Strange & Sherlock Holmes), you should check out his Khan from Star Trek: Into Darkness

as well as the series Patrick Melrose and Eric, both on Netflix, and the movies The Courier and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, to name just a few. He's such an amazing, talented Actor that I adored him for his talent well before his sex appeal enthralled me.

Of course, I'm now & forever an admirer - and have penned tens of thousands of words in fics based on his characters. Though I'm currently in a long bout of writer's block😔😔, Benedict remains My Constant Muse; the very reason I rediscovered I could write at all, inspired by his creativity.

(I call his Hamlet 'my sweet ginger prince'😍)

And please allow me to thank you for your patience awaiting a reply - I never mean to fall into such untimely delays, but oftentimes Real Life gets in the way. Please accept a loving Stephen to make up for the long wait.

[spaceyaceface]

Every time I go on AO3 and see so few new Ominis fics I am renewed with the desire to flood the world with them

[themetaphorgirl]

BRENNA WROTE PSLOC THINGS AND I AM WEEPING

Sicktember 2024 #6: Dizziness/Vertigo

Welcome to my first installment (this season, iykyk) of "Aaron Hotchner, my sweet sweet baby, I'm so sorry to do this to you." I love playing in @themetaphorgirl's PSOLC sandbox (tysm my queen), and if it also means I can write soft things about Aaron, it's a two-for-one!!

“Shut up, or die!”

“You literally cannot threaten me with death over this! Hotch!”

Aaron looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow, tugging at his earlobe. He hadn’t been listening, but there were three other big kids in the room, and he had no idea why he’d been the chosen target of the whining.

“What?”

“Derek said he was gonna kill me!”

Derek rolled his eyes at JJ, crossing his arms over his chest. “I did not. I didn’t say how you were going to die, I just said that the options were shut up or die.”

Aaron’s eyebrow only raised further on his face. “Sounds like witchcraft to me, Jayje. I’d watch out.”

Derek spluttered for a moment, arms failing before he started babbling about how he couldn’t be doing witchcraft, because witchcraft is for girls and he was a man, but Aaron blocked them back out sometime around when Penelope started assuring Derek that, oh, no, men could definitely do witchcraft.

He had way too much to do to be worried about that. The english paper he’d forgotten to write and been mercifully granted an extension on was due at the end of the weekend, and he was still three chapters away from being able to outline the damn thing, let alone actually write it. Thankfully he was a good writer, and he knew that, but his spelling was awful, and he was going to need Alex to go over it with a fine tooth comb before he could submit it.

And he couldn’t have her look at it until it was written.

And he couldn’t write it until it was outlined.

And he couldn’t outline it until he’d read the chapters, which the little kids were going to make impossible to get through.

He’d considered moving to Alaska when Spencer wriggled under his arms and into his lap.

“Bug,” he said, an apology already in his mouth. “I really need to focus, can you go sit with–” He cut off, looking around.

Alex was at the library, working a long shift so she didn’t have to work on Sunday night, and could go over his paper with him.

Dave was writing something on his laptop with an expression that was giving ‘violent’ and ‘don’t come near me.’

Emily was nowhere to be seen. Probably out with that guy Ian that Aaron hadn’t met but definitely hated on principle.

Which left–

“James?”

James looked up at the same moment that Spencer deflated.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t wanna sit with James, I wanna sit with you.”

Aaron ran a hand down his face. His eyes were blurring, even with his contacts in, and the words had started swimming on the page. He hadn’t even been reading that long, but if eyes could ache, his sure were. That, and his ears hurt. But his ears always hurt, so, what else was new.

“I know, Bug, but I need to be able to focus on this.”

“I’ll be quiet!” Spencer pleaded, dropping into a whine immediately. “I won’t be distracting or wiggly, I promise!”

A pout settled on Spencer’s little face, and Aaron closed his eyes and took a breath before shaking his head.

“We can watch a movie or something when I’m done, but my eyes are already tired, so I just need, like, an hour of space.”

Spencer huffed, his shoulders slumping, and slid off Aaron’s lap to go sidle up to James. James, unphased, beamed at Spencer while ruffling his hair. 

“Do you wanna help me with this math problem, Bug? I know how much you love numbers.”

Aaron turned his eyes back to the book, and it felt like the page was swirling. He closed them for a second, a hand reaching up to press on his temple. When did the headache come on? Usually he could feel them starting, but it felt like it had gone from nothing to pounding.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, rubbing slow circles on his left side, and when he cracked his eyes back open, he’d managed to dislodge one of his contacts. “Fuck.”

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like anyone had noticed his slowly crumbling composure, and he stood up, setting his book down on the arm rest. The world moved in a dizzying spin, and he reached out to steady himself on the back of the armchair. It seemed that the only person that noticed was Dave.

“Where are you going, fagiolino?”

Aaron scowled, stomach swirling with how dizzy he suddenly was. “I knocked my contact weird. I’ll be right back.”

James and Spencer both looked up at his voice, and then back down as Spacer said something about matrices that James clearly didn’t understand. Dave, looking unimpressed, shrugged, and went back to glaring daggers at his computer. 

The others didn’t seem to even notice, still arguing about witchcraft.

He stalked out into the hallway, and when he was nearly to his room, everything tilted, and the pain he’d been feeling in his temples and his ears seemed to throb in sync, sending the world sideways. One of his shoulders hit the wall, and his knees buckled as the edge of his vision started to darken.

Aaron wasn’t a stranger to passing out. It happened relatively frequently, but usually when he was sick. He wasn’t sick.

Or, he hadn’t thought he was? He’d been tired, sure. Spencer had been having crazy nightmares as the weather shifted, something about tinfoil being a bad window insulator. He didn't know what that meant, but he hadn’t given it a huge amount of thought past calming him down, and promising that the windows were closed tightly, and that while Lincoln House was sort of shitty, it wasn’t bad enough to be drafty. 

He didn’t get to contemplate it, because he slid into a crumpled heap of limbs against the wall, the darkness almost overtaking him before he glimpsed someone come into view in the hallway. They might have shouted his name – his actual name, Aaron – before he slumped the rest of the way sideways to the ground, his consciousness left behind.

When he came to, not very many seconds later, he only knew two things. Someone was pulling on him, and he was definitely going to throw up. The latter, he was used to. That happened pretty much every time, and then the nausea abated. 

He usually got a warning, though, when he was going to pass out, so he was either in a bathroom already, or in bed, if he could be, with his little desk trash can ready to be used for its secondary purpose, right after throwing away abysmally incorrect math assignments.

There had been no warning this time, so he was mildly surprised that after he gagged, there was a trash can (maybe the one that lived in the hallway?) being shoved under his chin. He was sick immediately, coughing and heaving several times before it let up, and he shuddered, wiping his mouth along the back of his hand and willing himself not to cry. The dizziness usually abated, but it was hanging on, and the throbbing in his head or the pulsing of pain in his ears hadn’t stopped, either.

“You’re okay,” he heard, finally registering that someone was holding him up. “Did you know your ears are leaking?”

Aaron didn’t know that his ears were leaking, but he wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t a stranger to ear infections by any means. He just didn’t know how it could have gotten so bad they were leaking, and he hadn’t realized.

It took another second for him to register the voice that was speaking to him, muffled as always. Everything was always muffled.

“James?” He mumbled, a little surprised, but not unhappy. He’d rather James find him like this than Dave, or one of the younger kids, or god forbid, Spencer.

“That’s me,” James said, pulling him the rest of the way upright. The world spun a little faster, and Aaron swallowed his stomach down. “You know, if you’d told Alex you were sick, she would have traded her shift.”

“I didn’t know,” he said, sounding far away to himself as he fought to shake off the fog. “Just had a headache.”

That’s a lie, he heard a voice, Alex’s probably, say simply in his head.

It wasn’t a lie. At least, it wasn’t until it was. 

“Snuck up on me,” he amended, to at least have a sliver of truth between them.

James sat with that for a second, moving so Aaron could push his back against the wall. He’d always thought that James had the sort of eyes that looked at you, but looked through you more, like he was analyzing you in a polite way. Alex talked all the time about James’ dream to be a doctor, and there were moments where Aaron could see how perfect of a match that would be.

“You probably have an ear infection, probably both of them,” he said, his tone void of emotion, save for sympathy. James didn’t do pity, and Aaron appreciated it. “Do you have a fever?”

“Dunno,” Aaron said, and James pressed a palm against his forehead.

His face pulled, just slightly, before he said, “I think so.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Aaron looked up at him with lidded eyes, trying to focus on his face as everything spun.

“Really dizzy.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Well, I– Yeah. Yeah I figured that, you passed out.”

Aaron felt himself flush, more than embarrassed that James had seen that, but the stubborn part of himself won out. “I didn’t mean to pass out, James. It’s not like I wanted to collapse in the hallway.”

“Well, your ears are definitely infected. They’re literally leaking, so your equilibrium was bound to be off. And you definitely have a fever.”

He stopped, pulling his phone out, and Aaron took half a second too long to figure out what he was doing before the phone was up to his ear.

“Jame–”

“Al? Yeah, hey sorry, I know you’re at work. Aaron’s sick, do you think you could call someone to come cover your shift?”

“James, stop–”

“Yeah, I think his ears are infected. He said he’s really dizzy, and he’s definitely got a fever.”

Aaron gave up, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere, but let himself be incredibly grateful James didn’t mention him passing out in the hallway. Alex would freak.

“Yeah, text me when you’re leaving. I’ll get him in bed. I’ve got it … Spencer? No, Spencer is helping Dave figure out the best synonym for ‘star,’ so I think that’ll take a while … Yeah. Okay. See you soon.”

He hung up, looking down at Aaron with half a grin. “She’s worried, but she’s coming when she can. Think you can get off the ground?”

Relief flooded through Aaron against his will. He didn’t want Alex to worry, but he did want Alex to come back.

“I think so,” he said, trying to get the world to stop spinning by sheer force of will. He didn’t want to ask James for help, but it turned out he didn’t have to. James was about as tall as he was, and broad, which helped when he offered Aaron his hand and was able to help pull him up to standing. 

The dizziness was bad, and it didn’t help the nausea either, but he kept a stable hand on Aaron’s arm as they started down the hallway.

[cuubism]

Headcanon from my "fic graveyard" doc.

What if Hob can not only refuse death, but also has a kind of death-averse zone around him?

Things heal more quickly in Hob’s presence than he has ever had any reason to account for. He thinks, maybe it’s some effect of whatever has kept him alive over the centuries. People still die around him, of old age, of violence; he’s killed no few himself in war. But wounds heal faster around people who room with him, cut flowers linger past the point they should fade, fruit stays fresh longer, things like that. He wonders for the thousandth time if Eleanor hadn’t encouraged him to go to London to handle court affairs right before she went into labor if she’d have survived the birth.

THAT LAST LINE FUCK 😭

I love this, I'm slotting it into my Hob-becomes-a-patron-saint-of-living thoughts. It happens slowly, over time as he gets older he's no longer just spared Death's gift, but starts to become his own creature that's not quite human, has his own sort of power tied to his incredibly strong will to live... it's more precious to me, actually, than thinking of Hob becoming "Hope." Hob as the personification of Life is dear and interesting to me, especially if he is close friends with Death. There was that quote that went around tumblr absolute ages ago, I don't know its origin. "Life and Death have a long love affair. Life gives gifts to Death, and Death keeps them forever." (I think that comic might have become a meme tho XD). Anyway that's Hob and Death, except, of course, Death once gave Life a gift in return of something that was really supposed to be hers... aka, Dream.

[fistfuloflightning]

“You have to come back to me,” she said hollowly, tears falling freely to land with gentle taps on Kenichi’s sling. She could not bear the loss of a second love. It would kill her; she knew it. “I will always come back to you,” he murmured. “So long as I’m able, I will always come back to you.”

Art for @frostyemma’s beautiful fic Two Roads Diverged

[patron-saints]

crawl like a sinner (a riza/lust fanmix)

falling in love with someone who could never love you back is the exact kind of curse lust would wish upon her worst enemies. it is also something she thought she’d never experience.

listen on: spotify or youtube cover art in collaboration with: @amotleycrew

——— tessellate - alt-j triangles are my favorite shape / three points where two lines meet gimme what i want - miley cyrus pleasure leads to pain / to me they’re both the same hatchet - archive you could aim between my eyes and i’d still be yours to have looking too closely - fink truth is like blood underneath your fingernails / you don’t wanna hurt yourself hearts a mess - gotye but i’m desperate to connect / and you, you can’t live like this  hold me tight or don’t - fall out boy when your stitch comes loose / i wanna sleep on every piece of fuzz and stuffing that comes out  piece of shit - wet leg  and you are not in love, but it’s close enough  did it to myself - orla gartland now you're living in my memory / living in my mouth / living in the four fucking walls of my house october - the crane wives take my word, but keep the upper hand / i know you, you're the daughter of a lonely man blood orange - freya ridings could a life be like this, even with you?

[themetaphorgirl]

Whumptober #6: Patron Saint of Lost Causes

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Prompted by @quiddoditto

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong |  "It's not my blood."

Years of abuse affected Aaron a lot more than he realized. But he also didn't realize that the people who love him can pick up on his unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Reluctantly he went down to the tiny office and tapped the door open. Alex was sitting at the computer, mumbling along to a Lawrence song while she worked on an Excel spreadsheet. “Hi, Bubba,” she said absently. “How’s it going?” “Fine,” he said, sinking down on the old couch.  Alex lifted her chin from her hand. “Ooh, that doesn’t sound fine,” she said. “Are you okay?” “Rough customer,” was all he said. He could have said more, but he didn’t have the energy.

Read here!