#some good ol angst

[sgrimp]

coworkers with benefits

[fyrewalks]

leaving you was a terrible mistake. // @hstoryhuh

Alex very purposefully keeps his gaze focused on the tv screen. He couldn't tell you what's playing, not now or what's ran through the last few hours. Morning news gave way to daytime programming and Alex was hopeless to repeat any of it.

Not that it matters.

"Do you mean," he says slowly, painfully aware of the weight of his words. "How you left or that you left, period?"

[hinamie]

quick itfs sketch page

[valoale]

Sketch Saturday or me trying to be more active here with art

Q: Harry has ran after him in the pouring rain and is calling for him; what is he saying?

[daintev]

Greif, fear and pride

Wonder how it feels sending off one of your sons to a unknown job with no idea what he does everyday, afraid you might lose him like your other sons, then seeing him carry that reminder close to his heart can feel like a lot.

Always loved the idea of the tags belonging to Scout's brothers and being gifted them once he became a mercenary.

Some random sketches from a couple of weeks ago when I was still figuring out how to draw Scout :]

[giggly-squiggily]

The Smiling Toll (Blue Lock)

Hi hello yes I'm in love with Blue Lock forever still. One look at Karasu and I thought to myself: That man is a LER! So much so I took that and my forever love of giggly Chigiri and bring you this fic! :D I hope you like it!

CW: Spoilers for Blue Lock Season 2, Swearing, some angst

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @cupcake-spice13 @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @riisada @ticklish-n-stuff

Summary: Karasu's a strange guy, but he means well. Chigiri learns this the unique way.

“Hey there, Little Red.” A hand came up and blocked his path, making Chigiri stop. “Where are you off to this fine evening?”

“Bed, probably.” Chigiri side eyed his new team captain, not entirely sure what to make of the “assassin”. Karasu seemed friendly enough, always smiling and making small talk with the guys in Team B. He even made it a point to chat up those in other teams when they weren’t on the soccer field- bouncing from one group to the next like the socialite he seemed to be. He had a sharp tongue and was quick to tease, but it wasn’t anything Chigiri found too grating.

And yet- standing here in the hall alone with him, he couldn’t help but feel tense. Karasu’s eyes were so piercing- shark like really. It was as if they were peeling back the layers within him and seeing the depths of his soul.

Were all blue eyed people like this? He thought of Isagi’s gaze during a game and internally shuttered.

“Bed? Come on- it’s only like- 7pm? Don’t tell me you’re one of those old souls who hit the hay before the night even begins?” He leaned in some, invading Chigiri’s space with those damning eyes. “Why don’t you come hang out with me tonight? I can show you where the Top Six sleep.”

Was this guy flirting with him? Chigiri felt his temper flare. “Despite how I appear, I’m not a woman. Nor am I some cheap date. Practice your lame pick up lines on someone who cares.” Elbowing him back, he went to leave, but the hand blocking him didn’t budge. “Move.”

“Peace, Red. I’m not trying to flirt.” Karasu leaned back, pulling his hands back in surrender. “Sorry, that was a bit much. I just wanted to see what’s going on there.”

“There?” His tone was light, as was his smile- but Chigiri could tell he was being genuine. He should walk away now. “Where?”

“In your head.” Karasu tapped his own, eyes watchful. “Respectfully, you’ve been looking like a porcelain doll since the Third Selection started. Pretty, yet so quiet- with this vacant look in your eyes when you’re alone.” He held his hands up again when Chigiri glared. “I’m not saying it in the stupid sense- I mean..it’s like you’re checked out when you’re not playing, you know?” His smile dropped, Karasu’s teasing expression trading in for something of concern. “What’s going on?”

…Checked out, huh?

Chigiri supposed he could give him that. He had been feeling rather distant since the Third Selection started. Kunigami was locked off- and nothing..nothing felt right anymore. He constantly reminded himself that this was the game, and that there was always a possibility they weren’t all gonna make it to the end. This was simply the nature of Blue Lock.

And yet…he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. Kunigami’s presence made him feel good- safe even. Having the big hero nearby to share laughter and kisses with made him forget the realities of what they signed on for, and now that he’s gone, his chest constantly felt like someone gouged it out and didn’t bother to repair it. He didn’t feel…whole, anymore.

But how was he supposed to say all that outloud? How could he tell anyone that his blase reaction to Kunigami being gone was nothing more than a weak wall he put up to hide the fact all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry his eyes out? How could he voice his irrational desire to quit, or the guilt that came with those horrible feelings? How could he ever truly put words to the pain in his chest whenever he entered the training room, or when he made a goal during a practice match only to look over and not find Kunigami there anymore?

It was all far too much to bear for anyone. Let alone Karasu- who he just barely met.

“Yeah..I suppose I’m just not feeling like myself.” He settled on that, the only thing he could think of that didn’t immediately make his throat close up. “I’ll be fine though. Don’t count me out- I’m not some weak link in this place.”

“Never said you were.” Karasu shrugged, not defensive, just…understanding. Gentle even. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but just looking at you, I can tell you're made of some seriously tough stuff.”

Fuck, so much for not crying. Chigiri swallowed the lump in his throat as he nodded, not trusting his voice. This was getting uncomfortably emotional. He really needed to get himself together. “Cool. Cool.” He turned to go-

That arm came back, blocking his path. The whiplash of being miserable to weirdly touched to completely irritated was dizzying. “You really like using those things, don’t you?”

“It’s a part of my weapon. Anyway- I came here with a purpose you know?” Karasu was back to being his annoying smiling self, properly blocking in the redhead. “Didn’t you hear? In Team B- we have a thing called the ‘Smiling Toll’. You gotta pay up before I can let you go.”

“Smiling toll?” Chigiri asked, raising an eyebrow. “When did I agree to do that?”

“When you decide to follow yours truly, naturally.” Karasu winked. “Company policy. You understand.”

It was so stupid. Chigiri almost did smile at it, but flattened his lips into an unyielding frown as he turned the other way. “I’ll head back then-”

Another arm- did this bastard block him in? “Sorry- once you enter the toll area, you’re required to pay up.”

“This is some high end robbery.” Chigiri folded his arms in defiance, leaning back against the wall with a raised brow. “Tell me, Tollman- what happens if I refuse to pay? You can’t keep me here forever.”

“Ah, so it’s come to this.” Karasu shook his head in mock shame. “You know, Little Red- I really didn’t want to do this to you.”

Chigiri furrowed his brows. What the hell did that mean?

“If you refuse to pay the toll. I’m just gonna have to…” He paused for dramatic effect. Then..

“Eeh!” Chigiri yelped when his sides were suddenly grabbed, Karasu faster than expected. Fingers pressed and prodded at his ribs, making him shiver and double over. “D-Don’t, you son of a b-bitch!”

“Pay the toll, Little Red~” Karasu was grinning from ear to ear, delighted. “Else my reinforcements are gonna have to pickpocket it out of you! They’re quite good at finding them, you know?”

“Whahhat kind of T-Toohohll is thihis?” Chigiri grunted, head ducked down to hide the beginnings of his smile. He refused to give in! “Yoohohu’re fuhuhll of shihiht!”

“Wow, what a potty mouth! I’m liking you more and more each second- thanks for joining Team B, dude!” Karasu cackled, bringing one hand up to Chigiri’s armpit while the other squeezed along his lower ribs. “Is your smile here? Or here? What about here?”

“Eh! Eeeegh-eheahhahahahaha!” Damn- he couldn’t hold back. Chigiri grasped at the wrists tickling him, trying and failing to shove them back while simultaneously sliding down the wall. If he could just- this bastard did not just put his leg between Chigiri’s! “Coohohohme ohoohn, thahaht’s not fahhahair!”

“You know what else is not fair? Toll Tax evasion!” Karasu chided, relishing Chigiri’s squeaky giggles. “Give me that smile and it’ll all be over.”

“Shohohove it up yohohur ahahahAAHAH!” Hands to his hips nearly made him reevaluate all his life choices. “Nohohohooho!”

Just when he thought his misfortune had maxed out, however..

“What are we doing?” Eita poked his head down the hall, drawn in by the noise.

“We got a tax evader! Come help me!” Karasu called out.

“Bet.” Eita sprinted over, ever so silent. Chigiri barely had a chance to cry out before two sets of hands were upon him, poking and prodding- both light as a feather and fast as a drill as every tickle spot within reach was attacked.

“Aheahhahahha! Thiihihis ihihis abuhuhuhuse! Nohohohoho, cohohohme ohohohon!” Chigiri cackled as he finally slid to the floor. Unfortunately his earlier plans were foiled by the addition of Eita. Now all he could do was curl up in a ball and laugh. “Oohohokay! Oohohohkay I’m smihihihling! I’m smihihihling now stahhahahap it!”

“Oh?” Karasu asked, giving his knees a gentle pinch. “Are you truly?”

“Should I get his feet?” Eita asked, doing so anyway and earning a squeal. “Let’s kill him.”

“GEHhahahahahhaa! Oohohkay now STHAHAP!” The redhead put his best inchworm moves into practice, scooting away from their fingers as he flopped like a dead slug. He could hear Karasu laughing hysterically, the sound of hands clapping together as he and Eita high fived. “Uuhuhgh, and just when I thought I gohot away..”

“That’s right- don’t think you can evade the Tollsmen!” Karasu laughed, reaching out and gently ruffling Chigiri’s hair, giving him a few neck tickles before finally pulling back. When he was composed once more, the hand he offered was kind and open. “Need a hand, Little Red?”

Chigiri almost slapped it away, but then thought better of it. He took it and let Karasu pull him into a sitting position, wiping at his flushed face with a small sigh. “Thahanks.”

“Yeah. I’m great like that.” Karasu smirked as he swatted down, eye level with the tired redhead. He stared at him for a few moments, then held out his hand once more. “Nice to actually meet the real you, red.”

Chigiri blinked, then rolled his eyes with a laugh, taking the offered hand and shaking it. “Fair. Nice to meet you too, tollman.”‘

It was a small step, but he’d survive Blue Lock. For both their sake.

Thanks for reading!

[catguangcorner]

ok started working on a short shiguang fic (lu guang pov!!) and wanted to share the first little bit (hopefully i end up fleshing out/finishing the full thing. if so i'll definitely be posting on ao3. if not then enjoy this little tidbit anyway!)

Lu Guang doesn't remember being scared of storms.

He does remember the fear he'd lose Cheng Xiaoshi the moment he met him though. A pang in his heart when Cheng Xiaoshi turned away, waving goodbye, his white shirt sticking to his back, sweaty, his smile satisfied as he glanced over his shoulder at Lu Guang.

"Let's play again tomorrow!"

He doesn't remember if he waved—Lu Guang doesn't often forget details—or if he stood there, stunned by the light receding into the distant horizon, almost golden. A boy walking away. A raised hand in response he wouldn't, didn't see. Maybe Lu Guang's splitting hairs over the details. But the details are all he has.

So he doesn't remember being scared of storms, and he surprises himself when the sound of thunder and flash of lightning freezes him in place, eyes snapping shut. Cheng Xiaoshi is saying something—they're in their room and Cheng Xiaoshi is only partially illuminated by the cool lamplight, the bed above obscuring parts of him in shadow—and Lu Guang grips onto the chilled metal of the ladder as if he's bracing himself.

"Uh—Lu Guang?"

[seventh-district]

“Why’s he call you Darlin’?”

on my knees begging my brain to stop trying to associate this song with Sam

[jupiterpiss]

What’s up gang! Welcome back to another rant about Mac McDonald and his pathetic self.

Mac McDonald is such an amazing crafted character in my eyes because the fandom is able to take all aspects of him and make extreme angst with it. Like you got a guy who not only has fatherly issues, but also got a guy who’s a closeted gay man who really loves his friend who’s a fucking douche to him.. Butttt you also got a character who’s desperate to be seen as “cool” and a character who looks sad all the time that the entire fandom agrees he looks like a kicked puppy and-

I could go on and on and on but that will bore you. I seriously love his character for that reason, like you could look at any aspect of his life and just make him be the most miserable man out there. Like the angst.. UGHHHH dude the ANGST you can do with his character RAHHH

Hell, any sad edit or prompt or ANYTHING applies to him. Religious trauma? CHECK! Daddy issues? CHECK! Having financial issues? CHECK! Internalized homophobia? CHECKKKKK! He’s got it all, it’s the one and only MAC MCDONALDDDDD

Thank you and good night!

[fe-fictions]

I may have sent this one in pre new year, but could you maybe write some Frederick angst with hypothermia (in honor of the freezing weather; the angstier the better). No pressure, of course, and happy new year!!! 🥳

(It's starting to warm up, so here's one last freezing story before we welcome a stupid hot spring U V U / )

The village in the high north of Ferox was besieged by Risen. It wasn’t a terribly difficult job to dispatch them, on their own.

It was the weather, the sheer number of civilians, and the swiftly sinking sun that was creating a whole host of dangers and threatened your plans.

Frederick tried his damndest to keep things in line, barking out echoes of your orders to those who couldn’t hear your voice over the howling winds.

The civilians who could pay attention to him and focus outside of screaming in fear at the sight of the undead, were able to get somewhat organized into a barreling crowd, rushing towards the back of the village. Getting them as far from the fight as possible was key.

“Sumia!! Get me a number on what’s left-- we’re losing daylight and I need a body count!” Your orders cracked across the field like a whip, demanding the attention of those wh ocould hear you. Frederick was fighting up ahead, ready for the battle to shift towards its end.

It was never that Risen were particularly powerful or challenging; it was always the numbers.

Whoever summoned them, they did everything in their power to tire out the Shepherds so they might pick off a few from their ranks.

It was particularly distressing between the civilians, the snow, and the never-ending hoarde of monsters.

“I’ve got two dozen left to the southeast, and another 14 to the direct south!”

Well, almost never-ending.

“That’s not bad…we can rout them quickly if we keep pushing them away from the village!!” You realized, “Frederick, I need you in the backline, protecting the gates with Stahl and Sully. I’ll take the mages, and we’ll clear the Risen in the field. If any stragglers get near-”

“They will be dispatched.” Frederick confirmed, giving you a curt nod before pulling Hebert around and galloping back into the town.

With the push to clear the remaining enemies, but made it easier to work around the rest. He charged back to the gates, rallying the civilians that were struggling to escape the hoard and shepherding them to the chief’s home, the furthest back in the village territory.

It was the safest place they could be, while the army handled the rest of the battle.

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

It wouldn’t be until two more hours before the battle finally ended. The cavaliers had successfully kept the bastards from the villagers, and had hurried as many civilians as possible into the safety of the chief’s home. It was quite cramped, but it was indeed protective of the innocent people.

“Lieutenant!!” Chrom’s voice cut across the billowing wind, frost and ice piercing any exposed skin with no mercy. The snow seemed to be getting worse, making it harder for Frederick to spot the prince…especially with the white cape and blue clothes that seemed to blend into the landscape.

“Milord! Is it done?”

“They’ve been cleared- I think we’re all right. The only problem is the villagers- we found multiple out in the field trying to escape from Risen. I don’t know how many more there are. Robin and the others went into the forest to try and recover people spotted running away, but they’ll need help.”

“They went deeper into the forest?” Frederick repeated when the Exalt crunched his way over, the snow halfway to their knees. A knot of worry lowered his brow, feeling a stirring in his chest. 

He had been militant in educating you on the dangers of winter weather; especially given your Plegian constitution; the desert environment couldn’t have been more different from Ferox. You weren’t exactly built for the snow, but with education and plenty of precautions taken, you would be fine.

He wasn’t sure how well that would hold up if you were navigating the frozen tundra alone.

“How long ago did they start the search?” He demanded, looking back into the crowd milling about inside the bursting house.

“It was little over a half hour, I believe.” He thought hard, eyes narrowed against the snow. “We need to organize a search party to make sure everyone comes back safe. Are the horses handling the cold well enough to work through it a bit longer?”

“Hebert is still strong enough to carry on; I’ll inform the pegasus riders and the rest of the cavalier squadron what we need to do.”

The Shepherds quickly rallied around the Exalt when he informed them of the situation. The chieftain managed to pull together focus among his citizens, asking if anyone was missing.

A few families were missing siblings or cousins, some friends and some more prone to panic than others.

But it was fewer than a dozen. How far could they have wandered that Robin and the others weren’t back yet?

“Frederick, take my flare spell; it’s the last one I’ve got, but I assume you’ll want to wait to return until everyone’s accounted for.”

“I will make certain we have saved everyone.” Frederick promised, taking the small tome into hand and tucking it into his cloak. 

The search party left the warmth they craved to return to the bitter cold. Even in those few minutes of planning their search, the wind grew much faster and biting.

It did not settle the pit in his stomach any less.

“The wind is too strong for voices to be heard over it; save your strength and don’t send up any signals unless you or the civilians you find are in immediate danger! Am I understood?!”

“Sir, yes sir!!”

And with that, they burst into the unforgiving snow once more. The knight could only hope that you were safe and healthy, returning with as many villagers as you could manage.

The alternative would be unthinkable.

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

If you were struggling with snow blindness before the storm got worse, it was completely impossible to see, now.

Between the wind whipping your hair about your face, and the ice crystals forming on your lashes, it was a miserable challenge just to put a coherent thought together.

A sliver of panic was setting in, but you were determined not to let it show. Not when you had a child in your arms, shivering violently against your chest. You held them tightly, having them underneath your coat and buttoned in to protect against the cold, but even with the woolen interior that Frederick had sewn in, you were finding it difficult to maintain either of your temperatures.

If the child had been a little older, perhaps you could’ve gone farther and gotten closer to the village before you lost sight of everything, altogether.

But there was little time to regret it. Your limbs were growing more numb by the second, and all you knew was to keep moving forward. 

One of the many navigational skills Frederick had taught you was to focus on the moss on the southern side of trees; it always grew on the southern side.

…Right?

That didn’t seem right.

The fog in your brain was getting thicker. Heavier, much like your limbs. With a shaking gasp, you tried to take in more air; each breath filled your lungs with ice.

“Aaah!!”

The child’s squeal vibrated against your chest, startling you; it seemed like you’d lost your balance. With a staggering few steps, you fought to stay upright, the wind beating into your body making it far more difficult than it should ever be.

“S-sorry…sorry…” You mumbled, tightening your grip on the little one. At least, you thought you did. You told your fingers to press into their small body, but…you weren’t sure if that mental command had traveled to your hands.

You couldn’t feel them anymore.

The pain of your struggle onward was getting harder to focus on. The numbness was worse. You kept apologizing. The word “sorry” left your mouth again…and again…

Where was the village? No…where were the trees? It was all so white…so blinding…

“Robin!!”

You felt the child jolt in your arms; someone had called your name. It must be loud, because the child started squirming, shouting back.

It was hard to hear even that much, though you could vaguely feel the vibrations of their voice against your chest.

“Gods, Robin!! What the hells happened?!”

You kept hearing a voice, but you didn’t recognize it. There was a flash of brown hair that came into view, and a big, blob that appeared to be walking on four sticks.

The young one squirmed from your arms, just as a pair of large hands came to your shoulders. You couldn’t feel them squeeze, but you felt the world suddenly stop.

They must have caught you. There was a frantic, muffled noise in front of you…was that their voice? Gods, you were so tired.

That was just about the last thing that crossed your mind, before the blinding white tilted into darkness.

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

Hebert was whinnying with great displeasure, having to go back into the punishing cold. Frederick understood the feeling well, but he was far more worried about locating his missing wife.

It hadn’t been long after he’d prepared the Shepherds for the search before he heard the panicked wails of a young mother; her little boy hadn’t come back.

He’d been separated in the panic, trying to get all the civilians away from the battle. He was too young to be out there alone; no way he could find his way back in all the madness.

That, and the storm was so bad now, that little one would surely be dead if he wasn’t found.

Frederick prayed to every god he could think of that you had found the boy, and the pair of you were quickly on your way back to the village.

“Onward, Hebert!! Faster!!” He snapped the reins, pushing as fast as he could go. It was a grueling process; the hopes of spotting the black coat in this sea of ice were becoming dashed with every passing moment.

After ten minutes, there was still no luck. Frederick’s heartbeat quickened, the dread creeping in with every slam of Hebert’s hooves into the ground.

It wasn’t fast enough.

Every second you were out there, the chances of survival were slipping away. They were going to run out of time to get you and return to the village.

If things got any worse, they’d have to go back empty hande.

He searched the ky for a flare, flistened for someone shouting they’d found you. But of coufres, no signs came to suggest you were found.

That would be far too easy.

Frederick dug his heels in, prssing further into the white and prayed for your safety.

He bore the brunt of the ice for twelve more minutes…when he finally had a breakthrough.

A single, dark blot against the horizon.

It was moving slowly, moving away from him…but it was no doubt a person. He He pressed forward despite Hebert’s whinnied protests, the wind picking up speed and blowing at the poor beasts’ side.

“A little farther Hebert. We’re almost- you!! You, there!!”

He shouted out at the sight of the distant figure. They did not seem to acknowledge his voice. 

“Robin?! Is that you??” He shouted louder. The distance was quickly closing, and the blot turned into what was without a doubt your coat. The patterns on the sleeves were purple; there was only one person it could possibly be.

“H-help!! Help, please!!” 

A small body was running towards him, forcing Hebert to a stop. Frederick quickly closed the distance with his dismount, finding a small child trudging towards him with a complete lack of balance and coordination. The poor thing must have had his limbs half frozen.

“You must be the child that went missing.” Frederick found it hard to speak over the weather’s howls, but the boy acknowledged him, welcoming the knight’s hands as he lifted him up, placing him on Hebert’s saddle. Quickly, he unclasped his cloak, draping it around the boy. He seemed lucid and sound, and looked warmer than he would’ve thought.

“I-I don’t need much help-- it’s her. She needs it.” The boy pointed back to the figure who he’d looked away from.

The figure that had turned slowly, clearly confused. 

The fear struck him like a lightning bolt.

“Gods, Robin!!” He sprinted to you, grasping your shoulders. You didn’t acknowledge him at all. "What the hells happened??"

Your eyes were glassy; skin pale, lips blue. Well past blue.

You were on You looked on the verge of death.

“It’s all right, I’ve got you.” He bit back the panic, fumbling the flare from his pocket and launching it into the sky. The magic made the bright red sigil impossible to miss.

It was the one saving grace they had.

“Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ve got the boy. You did brilliantly.” He said, tearing his scarf from his neck and wrapping it around your neck.

It bothered him more when you didn’t react to his actions.

“Robin?” 

You blinked, a slurred “Sorry” falling from your lips. Then your knees buckled. A strangled noise escaped him when you suddenly fell, the whole of your body weight coming against his hands. He nearly dropped you into the snow. 

“Dammit…!” He growled, finding the strength to lift you to his chest, carrying you back to his restless horse. The others would arive soon- surely they’d seen the flare by now, hovering bright and shining in the sky.

He had found you. He was bringing you to safety…but this was only the beginning of teh battle.

With a twist of his heart, he turned Hebert around and started the race back to teh village.

This was a battle you could still lose.

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

It was a merc that some Shepherds had met them halfway back to the village; Frederick had you wrapped up in the cloak with the boy, trying desperately to retain some of your body heat. When Sully and Maribelle caught up to him, they had her pulled from Hebert and placed into a village cart, its wheels carefully grafted to handle the snow far better than poor Hebert’s hooves could.

It mdae the return much easier; Maribelle was quick in administering first aide, focusing on yourr injuries and the frostbite nipping into your skin even as the ice turned her perfect curls into a frantic mop.

“She’s got hypothermia,” Maribelle deduced as they rushed through the front gates. “She’s losing her body emperature fast- she needs more than what I can do, and she needs emergency medics, now!!”

There was little more that needed to be said.

Frederick handed the boy off to his weeping parents, but had little tim eto accept their thanks; you were already being pulled frmo the cart and rushed to the cleric’s housewith the SHepherds’ best healers in tow.

He followed after them, Chrom and Ricken rushing with armfuls of blankets and enchanted stones to warm you quickly.

“Put her there, Frederick!” Lissa’s hand pointed to the pallet of blankets all but thrown together on the floor. The few beds were already filled with a mix of injured soldier and civilian alike.

You could only make do with what you had.

Frederick grit his teeth, following the command and lowering you carefully onto the blankets. His gloves were soaked through when he withdrew; your clothes were sopping wet.

“We need privacy-- Chrom, get those sheets up on the lines, here; fasten them so no one can look in.”

The prince did not dawdle, handing off the thicker blankets he and Ricken brought and started to fasten up the sheets around the clothes line hastily tacked up during the rush to protect the tactician’s privacy.

Frederick well understood what was happening, and had already begun to remove your clothes; the coat, sweater, scarf and tunic were difficult to peel away, but mercifully, your underclothes were not beyond rescue.

As soon as you were out from under your layers, he had you bundled tightly beneath the blankets, pressing the warming stones to your palms and your feet, and another to your chest. 

He fought to suppress the anguish in his heart when he saw the tips of your fingers and toes had grown discolored. Had hypothermia already set in?

Was it already too...

“Frederick, armor off, now!!”

“Yes, milady!”

The buckles were being undone just as Lissa darted to the floor beside you, strategically speaking healing spells over the more dire areas in need of repair.

Your breathing had yet to steady, and your pulse was still weak. Maribelle looked utterly frantic, working opposite the princess to try and stabilize your temperature.

Frederick’s armor was fully off, clattering off of him in lieu of his carefully setting it on its stand. There would be little time for procedure. Not when you needed him.

“Your clothes, are they-?”

“They are dry, milady. If it is not enough body heat quickly enough, I will take them off. Give me the order when you must.” His words were clipped, the knight wasting not a second longer before lifting the blankets and joining you beneath them.

Gingerly, cautiously, you were pulled into him, making sure not to hold you in a way that would inhibit the healers from getting to you.

He cradled your head to his neck, your nose like ice against his skin. You were still so cold…this was surely a nightmare, wasn’t it?

“Stay with her, just like that. Any loss of body heat could be deadly for her, at this point.” Maribelle instructed in a grave tone.

Frederick squeezed you closer. The thundering of his heart was deafening in his ears…surely, you could hear it.

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

The first thought you had when your thoughts finally came out of the darkness was that you were very, very warm.

That wouldn’t make any sense, considering the last place you were was in the middle of a raging blizzard.

Then your second thought was that you couldn’t really move. It felt like you were being held by someone. Was it the little boy? The child that-

Oh, gods, where was he?

“Ungh…” 

You couldn’t quite form words, yet. Your mind was filled with fog. And your head hurt. Well, really, a lot of you hurt. As your consciousness started to come through the grogginess, you felt a shift around you.

“Robin?”

Your vision was still blurred, despite rapid blinks attempting to clarify what you were looking at. Or rather, what you were looking for. All you could really see was the knitting of a thick, dark blue tunic…it smelled quite familiar. 

“Robin, can you hear me? Are you- Milady, I think she’s coming to.”

That sounded like Frederick’s voice. The hands that were on you retreated from your back, one gingerly cupping your cheek, tilting your face up.

Your vision went from the dark blue haziness into a much brighter, warmer shift of light. You found yourself looking up, into the blurry vision of your husband’s face.

You’d recognize that cowlick anywhere.

“Robin…you’re finally awake…can you hear me? A-are you…?” He sounded so fragile. What could’ve happened that would have him so worried? 

It did bother you, but there was a much more important matter at hand.

“Boy…t-the…the boy…”

“Thank the gods.” He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, holding you tighter. He pressed you to his chest, his other hand threading into your hair. He buried his face in your neck, and you could feel the grimace on his lips. “You’re all right…!”

“Fred…the child, he’s-”

“He’s all right. You saved him.” He spoke softly, his voice vibrating pleasantly along your skin. “I found you both, just in time. He’s with his parents, and you’re in the cleric’s home.”

The cleric’s home. 

“Lissa’s nearby. She’ll come to check on you in a moment. You were…it was touch and go for a while.”

Oh. That explained the tremor in his fingertips.

“What happened?”

“When I found you…you were unresponsive. The boy had actually run from you to come and get me. It was right when I’d gotten to you, that you collapsed. Your hands…you were frostbitten, and you’d been walking the wrong way, and…and you were delirious.”

You raised your hands to his chest, fingers curled into his tunic. They did not seem to be frostbitten any longer, at least. They were stiff and sore, but they weren’t discolored.

“I don’t remember much, I’m afraid.” Your voice was hoarse, despite the best attempts to clear your throat. Frederick stroked your hair, an attempt at comfort for the both of you. “But I’m…so glad you found me.”

“I would not have lost you to the winter.” He murmured, “I refused to. I know how much you hate the cold.”

“Ha.” You pressed your face into his chest, snuggling as close as you could. His hand tightened on your waist, and you were acutely aware that his calloused fingers were pressed to your skin. “Um…am I…?”

“Your clothes were utterly soaked through. We had to undress you, but rest assured, it is just the two of us. Lissa was kind enough to prepare some privacy for you while treating you.”

“I see.” You were too tired to be embarrassed. Given the circumstances, you weren’t surprised that was the course of action taken. “Well…thank you. For coming to my aid.”

“Good wife, I will not hesitate to do so. Just as you do the same for me.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You curled your arms around his back, hugging him as tightly as you could.

You pushed your leg between his, all but wrapping yourself around your husband with the energy you could spare.

He had been so worried. You could feel the remnants of the stress in his form, how he had yet to fully relax despite cradling you so closely.

It was his favorite place to be, in the best of circumstances. Having you close in his embrace was a luxury that you had not been afforded since the Plegians first struck.

Perhaps being put in mortal danger wasn’t so bad, if this is what awaited you on the other side. Though you were careful not to speak of such a thing while your husband doted on you, remarking here and there about how utterly frightened he’d been at the thought you’d been lost in the snow.

Instead you simply lavished in his warmth, rising from your delightfully cozy nest to be examined by a tearful Lissa, and later to enjoy a bowl of hot stew lovingly prepared by your relieved comrades.

It would be a few days before you were back on your feet, but Frederick was with you every step of the way to make sure you recovered fully (and you were sure to give him as much physical comfort as possible in that time…there couldn’t have been enough hugs and kisses in the world until he was confident you were all right).

[ultimatepeter-man]

“Incandescence”

The amount of heat coming off him is intense to look at. Peter holds up his hands to block it out as much as possible, squinting through the incandescent white light to make out the figure hovering in its center.

“Nova!” he shouts, shading his eyes with both hands “Nova, it’s okay, you’ve got him.”

The closer he gets the harsher the heat becomes and the hotter his suit gets. His skin is beginning to sting, burning as the spandex melts. Anymore and it’ll cook him like a wrapped-up turkey.

“Nova! You can turn off the light show, it’s okay! You did it!”

He can make Sam out now, but just barely. He’s hovering in the air, the power of the Nova Force emanating around him, pulsing like a living thing, as he stares in the direction the villain went down. Shoulders hunched, breathing heavy, he’s turned away from Peter, fists balled tightly at his side. His chest heaves, deep and laborious, expanding in a way that made him seem bigger than he is.

“Nova?” Peter says, backing up uneasily. “You okay?”

Slowly, Sam turns around and Peter’s spider-sense jacks up from a buzzing alarm clock to a howling fire alarm.  The eyes of Sam’s helmet glow a bright, painful white, and Peter’s eyes water just by looking near them. He takes several more steps back, fists coming up to his chest.

“Sam?” he tries again, but it’s small in his ears.

Sam cocks his head to the side, like Peter were a creature he didn’t understand, then takes a step towards him.

////

I was rifling through some of my old files and this was a Spideynova drabble labeled “Evil Nova.” I have no more context for what it was supposed to be outside this, but I think brain control might’ve been involved. 

[whumblr]

Zayne hummed, letting the tip of his knife tease along Jay's upper arm. "You know, I've been dying to just cut along your tan lines," he murmured, pricking into the divide between pale and sunkissed skin.

"Don't," Jay's exhausted voice cut in.

"Why not, you usually wear long sleeves anyway."

"Because I don't want to look like Frankenstein on a bike."

A soft twitch of the lips followed to hide a smile, but Zayne pulled back from the outline of Jay’s watch. "Fair."

[starbolts]

ah yes, angst

[pineflowerart]

To Grieve and To Change

Hyssop spent a year in isolation suppressing their magic, and it took a dangerous magic overload for help to find them instead

[piko-rose]

You know that moment from Sonic 2 where Sonic said "Stop trying to be my dad" to Tom?

What if Dewey said the exact same thing to Donald? Wouldn't that be great? 😇

[musingmemories]

@fablesuntold sent: ❝ 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋. 𝙸 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. ❞ 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐏𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞.

Translucent clouds clung in sporadic groups, gathering in overcast and darkening the skies above, rivaling the now hushed silence that’d fallen over the group, tension so thick it could be cut through with a knife.

And majority would be happy to draw that weapon to do so.

At least, that’s how Katniss remembered the sky before they’d been driven underground like sewer rats, one last glance skyward before they were plunged into darkness. The only safe space away from the public eye hunting them down. Covers blown, their identities revealed, failure bled into the risked lives of loved ones. Plans formulated as just in case backups executed for their safety. The clock was ticking, the countdown to the final battle had begun. Katniss’ stomach never settled its knots since touching down on Capitol soil, coiled and taut like a drawn bow string with every step closer Coriolanus Snow in his ivory tower.

So close and yet so far.

Restless, Katniss had half a mind to go on ahead, take matters into her own hands and distract Snow while the others got out. Make it obvious she was coming for him and perhaps be granted a personal audience with the President himself. Unfortunately, no one was going to let that happen… because it was exactly what Snow wanted. Separate them, kill them off one by one, leave Katniss as the lone survivor and let her watch how one single action years ago had a continuous domino effect of consequences.

First, her choice for Prim, volunteering in her place for the games… and then, the current, for Peeta.

The latter a heavy topic of conversation muttered in accusatory whispers and blamed for their present situation, body count rising and blood staining their hands the longer they spent within the Capitol. Ideas tossed around were ones Katniss vehemently fought against: restrain him, take him out, give him back to Snow. Katniss knew the root of the problem associated with Peeta’s PTSD and brainwashing, despite everyone else’s insistence it wasn’t her fault all of this was happening in the first place. Katniss knew it was. She saw it through every example Snow showed her— the Quarter Quell, Gale, Peeta, Johanna, the destruction of District Twelve, Prim… she needed to rectify it all or Katniss felt like she’d crumble.

So while she explained to Peeta she wasn’t going to hurt him despite his previous attempts to which her lungs frequently felt like they were constantly recovering from Peeta glared— features twisted unnaturally from their usual easygoing nature, and called her out on the discussion that’d just been had when they all thought him to be unconscious. “Yes, you’re a threat, Peeta.” A tongue ran over dried lips, atmosphere of the tunnels damp and wet, claustrophobic compared to the open air of the forest after it rained. “They’re thinking of keeping the restraints on you, leaving you here and seeing if Snow will take you back or if he’ll kill on the spot.” Heartless, she sounded, tone hollow and trying not to be emotionally attached, clear mindset needed to keep herself going forward to the goal ahead.

Unfortunately, Katniss cared. Deeply and so ferociously she felt it claw inside of her wanting to be unleashed like a monster when it came to protecting her loved ones. All she could picture was sending an arrow straight between cerulean blues crowned by snow white locks and that anticipated rage was ignited. Wouldn’t change anything… Katniss knew that. Wouldn’t bring anyone back dead or alive, in Peeta’s case. Here but not here… her Peeta no longer.

“But…” Katniss’ gaze found his, heart sinking every time she met those eyes once so full of warmth cold and muddled, glassy almost like a lens were covering them. “I’m not going to let that happen. Whether or not you kill me in the end, it’ll be between just us. Like it’s always been since the beginning.” At that point, Katniss would be ready and willing to go. If it released Peeta from the nightmares in his head she’d created by simply existing… maybe then he’d be saved.