#thank you so much Deathy!!

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Isn't it like, past midnight for you right now? Go to bed!!!

Anyway, German Shorthaired Pointers are really cool dogs! They're a pointing breed (hence "pointers") so as hunting dogs go they're fairly stable. Their job is to seek out prey (quail mostly) and point it out to the hunter. They do not flush the quail like a Beagle or a Coonhound might flush out a rabbit. They just find and alert the hunter to where the quarry is. Super cool work. Lots of fun to watch.

That being said GSPs are pretty stable for being a hunting breed. They're super energetic, friendly, and just happy dogs. But they're a doing breed. If they don't have something to do they either find something to do (chewing walls, furniture, etc) or they become nervous wrecks. I've never met one that didn't end up being found perched on top of the fridge at some point in their lives.

Not intending to call you out or anything but you remind me of that. You're fun, you have the energy of fifty hamsters (seriously how!? I'm so exhausted all of the time) and you are the picture of happiness and joy in the small things of life. But I see the little moments when you don't have something to focus on and your energy shifts. You get ansty and a little nervy. You need somewhere to put your energy. You need to be doing. That's not a bad thing of course. It's just you. It's a by product of all that boundless energy and joy you have bubbling up in you.

So yeah, you remind me of a GSP. They're my second choice for pointing breed. Super cool dogs. My favorite color are the liver roan.

…it was midnight when I got this ask. And I. Stayed up. Two more hours. Before going to bed *lowers head shamefully*

Dude I love it when you talk about something you’re passionate about oh my goodness-

“I've never met one that didn't end up being found perched on top of the fridge at some point in their lives.” Oh dear XD

Though actually, I quite like sitting up on counters! And I also have a loft bed… hehe

I GOT CHARACTER ANALYZED BY DEATHY HECK YES THIS IS AWESOME!!! Whoa this is so cool to read!! Wow!!!

Awwww, the liver roan is so cute!!

[leias-left-hair-bun-again]

I saw it was your birthday!!! Happy birthday, hope you're having a good day!!

thank you so much!!!💕💕💕 it has not been too bad, i went to the nearest city to go to the aquarium and olive garden...and costco lol but i found a hello kitty squishmallow at costco and pet some shrimps at the aquarium and it was a pretty good day! i hope you are having a nice day too (:

[amirsirwrites]

Hi hi!! Hope you’re doing great! Could I request a yoru x reader where the reader is like DEATHY scared of thunderstorms and one night there’s a really bad one? Thank you!!

Hi hi, anon! I'm doing well, recovering from my flu, and getting a long break soon. I've done your request and it's quite short (which I hope you don't mind) because I can't really expand much further than this. I hope you enjoy reading! :)

Yoru comforts you during a storm ❤️

Requested

Yoru x GN!reader

------

It’s another one of those dreadful nights - heavy rain crashing down, dark clouds covering the sky and the horribly loud sound of thunder. The sound was suppressed a little bit due to being inside base but it was still overwhelming for you. Right now, you were shivering under the covers of your bed, trying to mentally block out the storm outside base while doing those breathing practices Viper told you about. 

The one thing that would make you feel much better is Yoru. Just as you thought about getting out of bed to go to his room, the raging storm outside roared once more, seemingly opposing the idea of you getting comfort.

All you can bring yourself to do is stay under the covers until the storm passes, tears slowly rolling down your face.

However, a few minutes later, you heard the automatic doors of your room slide open and close. The covers of your bed were lifted and someone got in, wrapping their arms around you and pulling you close. Your back met their chest. 

“Sorry it took me so long to get here. You alright, darling?” Yoru’s hushed voice brushed against your nape. 

You turned around and hugged him back, glad to be met with his familiar warmth and scent. He took your face into his hands and kissed away the tears on your face, softly whispering sweet nothings to you.

He ran a hand through your hair as he slowly stroked your back, “You’re shaking…”

Kissing your forehead, he reached for something in his pocket. 

“Here, look up at me for a second,” Yoru whispered, lifting your head up gently with a hand. He put a pair of slim headphones over your ears and pulled you into his warm embrace once more. 

Yoru fiddled with his phone a bit and then you heard music start to play through the headphones. Not just any music though, it was one of your favourite songs.

You gazed up at Yoru, starry-eyed, “You know what I like to listen to..?”

He scoffed slightly, a deep blush setting in on his face, “Of course, I know. I’m your boyfriend, idiot.”

To avoid getting any more flustered from your stare, he pushed your face to his chest and hugged you tight so you couldn’t get out. You didn’t mind though. This is exactly what you needed. The thunder and rain didn’t reach your ears anymore, blocked out by the calming music and your boyfriend’s, loving warm embrace. 

You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own. Most of the time, you’re the one who goes to Yoru to be comforted. This was the first time he came to you. He even knew all your favourite songs. He’s the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.  

You couldn’t help but smile. 

Just before you drifted off to sleep, Yoru kissed you lightly.

“Oyasumi, Y/n.”

------

'Oyasumi' - Goodnight (Japanese)

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

@thisistheendtimes !!!

having a favorite character from a piece of media you haven’t seen but one of your mutuals is unwell about is like. that’s my nepo blorbo from the gifsets,

[photogirl894]

Thoughts on.....

Hunter and Crosshair's tattoos.

Ooooh I like this question!! 😊

Well, first, I must start with my beloved Hunter 🥰

So here's the thing: normally I'm not always too fond of the facial tattoo look on some people. It depends on the tattoo, but if it takes over most of your face, I don't always like it personally. That being said: for whatever reason, I just love Hunter's facial tattoo! 🥰 If it went over his whole face, then I definitely don't think I would like it very much, but something about it being over half of his face almost makes it even more attractive. It's a cool look and I love it! Though I wonder how painful that had to have been getting it on a whole side of his face! 😅 I also really want to know if getting that was his idea or someone else's, but he really makes that look work for him! I can't imagine him without it. I've seen photoshopped pictures of him with the tattoo removed and he just doesn't look the same.

Now, for dear Crosshair 😊

I've always thought his tattoo was cool and intriguing! Though, if it were me, I wouldn't trust anyone with a needle that close to my eyes 😅 But his tattoo is so perfectly him! I mean, what else would you give the sniper? I've noticed that the lines aren't completely even, though, so that makes me wonder if either he did it himself or the tattoo artist had a harder time or maybe he wanted it that way. It's not a perfect tattoo, just like he and his squad are a group of imperfect Clones (though they're perfect in my eyes!) It's a fitting look for him and I'll even admit, it makes him look more attractive, too.

For both of them, the tattoos just make them look more badass 😎 And I love the symmetry of them, too. Hunter's tattoo is on the left side of his face whereas Crosshair's is on his right. So in some shots with the two of them, you see both their tattoos when they're looking at each other and it just has a cool symmetry to it.

Thanks for that, Deathy!! 🥰🥰

Ask me my thoughts on...?

[catfishimages]

hello danny god of the doom mettle realm, 2 5 8 for those dm asks?

2 - what was your first time running a game like?

sort of depends? i've been running informal, non-system games since like, elementary school, no dice or anything. the first proper ttrpg, system-run game? that was kind of a mess. i ran a game of pathfinder for a bunch of my friends in grade 9, and they hadn't played any ttrpgs before so they didn't quite, like, get it? and admittedly i was having a hard time teaching them what these games are all about too. but we had fun at least, even if we only got through the first 2~ rooms of a dungeon before one of them cast speak with animals on a giant frog and at that point it was all over. it actually took me a few years of playing/dming on and off, and a dedicated group of regular players for me to really hit my stride

5 - what is your favourite part about running a game?

there's this thing that happens when you're in the heat of it all, the blood's hot, you have to react immediately to your players' decisions, where you kinda have to split your brain into one part thinking about the current action (and i don't necessarily mean like combat action) one part always keeping in mind the larger story, and then another part always keeping in mind the larger-larger story. and something happens in that moment of like, flow-state, where you become so caught up in facilitating the game that it's almost ego-deathy where your brain's moving a thousand miles a second and the table becomes this bubbling caldera of new insane shit cause you're reacting in entirely new ways to things your players do that you could never possibly imagine. it's like i'm on fucking ecstasy.

8 - what type of stories do you like to tell? what is a story of yours incomplete without?

woof i mean, it's sort of hard for me to break down my own storytelling like this cause i don't have an outsider's perspective, but i can give it a shot.

fundamentally, i like stories about people who get beat up a lot. literally and figuratively. Thank You Spider-Man. like, i beat up on my pcs because like, it’s fuckin all about success through struggle man, otherwise, what’s the fucking point? i like to tell stories about deeply dedicated people choosing to continue, to keep fighting, despite how stacked the odds area against them, or how much they get hit. we as spectators to these stories feel on an intimate level how important the characters goals are to them, cause why else would they try so hard and face such hardship? i think a story of mine would be incomplete, it would feel empty, if the characters didn’t lose pretty hard on their way to winning.

on a less narrative level, i think one of my strengths as a dm is visceral, sensory descriptions of things. so i end up adding in nasty gore/body horror stuff, whether i go in intending to or not lmao. it just sort of happens. so i guess it wouldn’t really be a Me(tm) story if there wasn’t at least one nasty freak.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

I would say I was blindsided by how much fun this was and how much I enjoyed this setup, but the truth is that I knew Adira was going to absolutely nail Jack’s charisma and charm and that she was gonna put these characters in a creatively wonderful situation and you know what? I was RIGHT.

I truly loved everything about this, from Reader & Ginger’s friendship and the way they talked to each other (and the way Ginger talks about Jack) to Jack going seamlessly as only he can from “strangers stuck in a crisis together” to “actually I’m your blind date BUT I’m here to recruit you to a secret spy organization” to “oh but let’s not skip the date, though”.

This is such a clever concept and totally feels like it’s right out of an organization like Statesman’s playbook - ah yes, the old “construction knocked the elevator out, let’s see how this candidate reacts” stress test. Classic spy tactic. Reminded me of the flood test in the first Kingsman movie… but less life or deathy and more fun-n-flirty.

Also, Reader being a double edged asset with the cool as a cucumber reactions AND the distilling skills? Right. On. She rocks. Statesman is lucky to have her on board.

I laughed out loud when it was revealed that Hinger was in on this and that yes, in fact, Reader *is* one of her experiments right now. You owe me a cocktail at girls’ night, Ginge.

But they can wait because right now I’ve got a DATE and then a MISSION and we are going to EDINBURGH and I’m so thrilled and tickled to think of Cowboy Jack in Scotland. We’ll work on his pronunciation on the way.

Adira, like I said already, this was a blast from start to finish, and I look forward to finding out more about Whiskey and Rye. Thank you so much for writing this and creating this little adventure. Best blind date EVER.

This Will Be The Day That I Spy - Part 1: Blindsided

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle / Jack Daniels

Pairing: Jack Daniels x f!reader

Reader: Bold, smart female, not easily fazed, always open for an adventure. Has a chemistry degree and is a spirits distiller by trade. No physical descriptions, no use of y/n.

Rating: T

Warnings: darkness, enclosed spaces, and Jack Daniels being a flirt.

Summary: A blind date with Jack Daniels does not go according to anyone’s plan…and that’s what makes it interesting.

A/N: For my March entry for Year of Tropes  as part of @yearofcreation2023​ we’re going for BLIND DATE+. The + is there because I couldn’t decide between two tropes for this fic, so there will be another one tackled in part two.

Keep reading

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Please scream about Ghostbur to me.

Coming soon: me screaming about Halo

OKAY here goes nothing !!

Also this is one of my favorite gifs :)

ANYWAY! MOVING ON TO THE!! RAMBLE!!!

Okayokay I just recently had an epiphany in regards to Ghostbur + the rampant mischaracterization that the fandom gives to him, and the epiphany is this: Ghostbur is an extremely multi-faceted character.

That doesn’t sound too monumental on its own—well-written characters should be multi-faceted!—but with Ghostbur, I feel like it’s much more extreme… which also makes him more confusing.

It’s so freakin rare to find anyone who actually understands Ghostbur’s character & doesn’t wildly mischaracterize him/have a super strange idea of who he is, and for the longest time I couldn’t understand it! I chalked it up to fans being unable to actually look at his character and dig deeper, or only being able to see a very surface-level Ghostbur, but now I think it’s a little different than that :0

Ghostbur is a very complex little guy—which most people don’t realize! He’s mature but also childish, and he’s happy but also depressed, and he cares so deeply for everything but he also doesn’t value his own life, and he wants to die but he’s scared of death. It all sounds very contradictory, but if you understand his character then you realize it makes sense!

And I’m pretty darn certain that the reason fans misinterpret him so much is because they’re only paying attention to one of his many facets!! Rather than seeing All of Ghostbur’s facets and quirks, they only focus on one, and the result is a very very mischaracterized ghost.

There’s a big issue when it comes to infantalizing Ghostbur; it’s definitely the most common mischaracterization I’ve seen. And I think the reason it’s so rampant is because it’s… sort of grounded in truth? Ghostbur is very whimsical and silly and smiley, and he does quite a few things that would be seen as childish—things such as refusing to talk/think about sad things, only focusing on “happy” things, deriving the most fulfillment and satisfaction from simple tasks, etc etc. I don’t think it’s wrong to say that Ghostbur has childish traits! Not wrong at all!! It’s an important part of his character, I fully believe that!

The problem comes when people only see Ghostbur as childish. When they only pay attention to his sillier aspects. When they cannot understand that yes, parts of Ghostbur are childish, but he is still an adult and he’s really quite mature!!

Another mischaracterization I’ve seen, though not as frequently, is sort of… I guess “dark Ghostbur” would be the best way to put it; they think of Ghostbur as creepy, as unsettling, as dead, as unnatural, as disturbing. They see him as something wrong, as something that is not supposed to be moving and talking and smiling. Someone who watches pleasantly as terrible things happen all around, someone who’s ready to kill and torture. Basically, this version of Ghostbur leans more into the ghost aspect—specifically, a creepy, supernatural ghost who’s clearly, undeniably inhuman.

This, again, is founded on a bit of truth! Ghostbur has definitely done or said creepy things—most notably whenever he talks about death. He’ll say things like, “Alivebur blew up the nation and killed everyone, it looks like Tommy killed himself, I want to die” and he will say it all in an easy, pleasant, smiling tone of voice, as if he sees absolutely nothing disturbing about the subject matter.

But the problem happens when fans only see this side of his personality, and make it into his entire personality. Because truth is, Ghostbur isn’t a generally creepy character! He’s super sweet and wants to help people, and he’s always looking for the good in others. He just happens to also have a bit of an unsettling side to him, but that is by no means reflective of his whole entire personality, and shouldn’t be viewed as such!

The many complexities of Ghostbur is something I could literally go on and on about, but this kinda scratches the surface of what I mean. He has so many wonderful sides to his beautiful & unique personality, and I think most fans are incapable of understanding all of them :( It’s very unfortunate, because he really is SUCH an amazing character!! He’s incredible!!! He does not deserve how the fandom treats him, not at all.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

HEYYY STEPH

once again imma say you are amazing and loved by literally the whole fandom <33

i hope you are doing well and if not, im pretty sure you'll be alright soon, we are alwaayyssss here for you <33

also, do you know any fic where john dies and sherlock is left alone? or something like that. im really in the mood of some angst

once again THANK YOUUU SOOO MUCH FOR YOUR FIC RECS AND YOU ARE AMAAZZIINGGGG!!!

Hi Lovely!!

Ahhh thanks!!! I’m so happy you enjoy my posts!!! <3 <3 I try my best, though my memory isn’t very good these days so I need lots of help from everyone, which I think benefits us all because it make the blog feel like a community hahah! <3 

And I’m not doing great, but I’m trying my best to survive. I appreciate the love, I need it, hahah

Ahhh, I have a few fics you may enjoy, figuratively speaking:

Major Character Death / Heavy Angst

Major Character Death / Heavy Angst Pt 2

One Lives, One Dies

John’s Suicide Before TEH

Dies After the Fall and Becomes a Ghost

John Has Cancer

Let me know if you need anything else!! <3 Sorry I don’t have anything new, I really can’t read a lot of deathy fics these days hahah.

[madgastronomer]

Hi Magda :) i was just wondering if in the future would you please tag posts like the one about the woman (I can’t remember first name) Figueroa who died after her wheelchair was destroyed, with something like “#tw death” or something similar? That kind of thing is deeply upsetting and I have a hard time coping with that sometimes. Hence it would be useful to be able to choose not to see it. Thanks so much 💖 and no hard feelings!! :)

First, MadGastronomer, as in, a food person who is mentally ill. Not Magda. Not offended, it's just not my name, or my handle, or my URL.

Second, well, I don't actually tag things. I use one-click reblog pretty consistently, unless I have some comment to make, and even then I don't tag. It's not some specific NO I WON'T TAG THAT FOR YOU thing, I just don't, that's not how I use Tumblr. I won't remember to tag for any specific thing, because of the way I use Tumblr. That means that I'm not a safe blog to follow for anyone who needs or wants anything tagged. I'm especially not safe to follow for anyone who can't deal with death mentions, because I am a death-positive person who reblogs a lot of deathy stuff sometimes. Lots of skulls and bones and discussions and all sorts of things.

If you need to block me, please do. Please. For your own mental health.

Also, please consider getting one of the XKit variants out there, which will allow you to block posts based on the text of the post as well as the tags!

[f0xfordcomma]

Hello!! Happy FFWF!! Is there anything in particular that you find hard to write? Are there any WIPs that you've just absolutely given up on cause you think it'll go nowhere?? (would you share a bit of it? :D)

Croisty! Happy ffw tuesday (which tbh is earlier than I thought I'd be able to do these, so be proud of me lol)

I wish I had more to go off of in my writing portfolio to answer this question, but I think the thing I have the hardest time writing/ have avoided writing in my wips is just unfettered angst or like horror/ violence. Like character death? Gore? Fight scenes? (ooooh baby I SUCK at fight scenes) all of /that/ is just not really my forte as a writer. Don't get me wrong, I am not opposed to hurting my characters, but hurt/comfort is more where its at for me. You've read my stuff, so you know how emotionally driven a lot of my writing is. I think I would have a hard time writing more graphic/ heartbreaking/ violent *stuff* in my style. Idk, it would probably be a good thing for me to practice.... but.... I don't wanna (hands on hips) sooooo I'm not planning to really do anything quite like that anytime soon.

As far as abandoned wips go, I've got plentyyyy (or just verrrrrrry dusty wips that are not quite abandoned but are sitting very patiently on the shelf waiting for me to have the time to get back to them) Violent/ angsty/ deathy/ fighty abandoned wips though? Not so much.

But for you, mon petit croissant, have a bit of a miraculous ladybug reveal fic that I wrote one night after having a little ~ouid~ and convincing my husband to put on a sheet face mask with me that I now have no intention of finishing (oops, rip me).

okaaaaayyy so this is actually pretty dang long lol but I'm going to share the whole thing with you because I just re-read it for the first time in months and its pretty funny ~if you ask me~ so anyway... under the cut <3

NIGHT OFF

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a totally crazy idea to take a night off.

Besides, Shadowmoth’s akumatizations had slowed down considerably in the past few months, and he rarely ever sent out two akumas in one day. The battle that she and Chat had fought that morning was brutal, but they’d come out victorious against HoneyBadger. Still, the fight had left her exhausted and wound up. Shadowmoth was planning something, she was sure of it. She just couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out what it was.

Ladybug was stressed.

Add to that, the fact that end-of-term exams were starting up next week and she’d not had nearly enough time during dead week to actually cram. Something about black butterflies and cranky kwamis and a cheeky cat (who, in recent weeks, had been considerably less cheeky.) Not to mention, she had been receiving an awful lot of memes, seemingly without preamble, from Paris’ favorite male model. Nino thought it was hilarious. Alya thought it was suspicious. Marinette thought it was confusing.

Marinette was stressed.

All of it was stressful.

*

Alya knew when her best friend was stressed. She could usually gauge the amount of Marinette’s exasperation by the frequency with which her bangs went flying from her face, propelled by a huff and a heavy sigh. Right now, Marinette’s bangs were a mess.

“Okay, girl. You need a night off.”

“What? No, I’m fine! Really! Plus, I can’t really afford to take a night off right now, Alya… I don’t know what Shadowmoth ha—”

“Yeah, no. I’m stopping you right there. For the next twenty-four hours, this space is a Ladybug-talk free zone,” she gestured vaguely around her bedroom, which was scattered with printouts and pictures that Marinette had brought over to work on nailing down Hawkmoth’s possible location using Alya’s beloved akuma-map. “I know, I know. It pains me more than it pains you, truly. But I’m doing this for you. Tonight: you, me, drinks, distractions. You are taking a night off.”

“But Alya! What if—”

“Hush, you know that’s incredibly unlikely. And, in the event of this IF you are so set on, you know that cat boy and I will have your back. Even drunk ladybugs can purify akumas when they have the clawed crusaders on their side.”

“I can’t believe you gave in to his silly nickname.”

“It is a badass nickname and you are just jealous that we bonded.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m annoyed.”

“Mhmm… keep telling yourself that, girl. Now, back to the matter at hand: what kind of drunk do you want to get tonight? Classy or trashy? I still have that peach stuff from last month, but if we are thinking classy I might need to call in the reserves to get us some decent wine.”

“You won’t need to call in anybody, Al, because I am definitely not getting drunk tonight.”

“Night off, Marinette. Drunkenness is a prerequisite.”

“Can’t we just watch movies or something? I really don’t know if that’s too good of an idea…”

“Girl, we watch movies every night. This is a night off. Don’t think I don’t see you stressing all throughout movie night every week, anyway. You need to take your mind off Ladybug,” she gestured at the mess that had consumed her bedroom. “And get your mind back on Marinette. Superhero or no, you’re still a teenage girl who is supposed to be enjoying the last few months of college.”

Marinette pouted.

“Stop pouting. You know you deserve to have normal girl fun.”

“But Alya I—”

“No buts.” An unnervingly devious look crossed Alya’s face. “Unless it is your butt in that pair of skinny jeans that you and I both know you-know-who loves. Boys will be here in twenty. Get to it, girl.”

Marinette just gaped at her. She didn’t even notice that Alya had grabbed her phone, but alas, there was the tell-tale ping.

Alya Cesaire → Akuma class OGs chat

Alya: anyone down for a little last minute get together—my door is open and my bar is stocked

Nino: HELL YEAH babe!

NL: got a new mix i’ve been meaning to show you… so entertainments on me fam!

Alix: This thing got an itinerary or just drunkenness for drunkenness sake?

Alya: the latter, natch.

Alix: Sick! Count me in.

Kim: same!

Rose: Do you need us to bring anything?

Alya: anything you feel like sharing

Alya: otherwise, just yourselves!

Alya: Agreste~you better bring us some of that expensive shit that i know your pops keeps somewhere in that castle of yours

Alya: no fancy wine, no admittance

Alya: the rest of you peasants just bring wtvr

Adrien: uhhhhhhhhhh

Adrien: ALYA

Adrien: dang it! You know I feel obligated to steal wine from my dad’s cellar now

Adrien: do you know how scary my dad is!!!??

Nino: DUDEEEE

Nino: DO IT you wont!

Adrien: shuddup Nino

Marinette: Adrien you totally don’t have to! Alya is just being **extra** Alya today

Alya: i plan a night off for this girl

Alya: and this is the thanks i get??????

Alya: can ya’ll believe this?

Alya: ridiculous

Zoe: UTTERLY RIDICULOUS

Adrien: utterly ridic

Adrien: dangit

Zoe: lol first! sorry adrien

Marinette: ugh ty I guess Als xxxxx

Alya: awe she DOES care, youre welcome babe!

Alya: so sunshine… about that wine?

Adrien: yeah yeah yeah

Adrien: use my people pleasing against me why dontcha

Alya: gladly <3

“Alya, stop bullying Adrien.”

“No way, girl. Giving that boy a task is the only way to ensure he shows up. Speaking of which… butt, jeans, go, now!”

The doorbell rang. Nino had perfected the quickest route to Alya’s house from every part of Paris years ago. Yes, he was whipped; and yes, he was proud of it.

“ALYA! I have to clean all of this up and I have to go home to get those jeans that you’re so dead set on and…”

“No you don’t. Kaalki?”

“Right here, Ms. Rouge.”

“YOU USED VOYAGE TO BRING ME JEANS?”

“No way girl! Don’t be silly. Kaalki and Roaar just volunteered to be my errand kwamis.”

“You guys do realize that I am the guardian, right?”

“Of course, that’s why we worked so hard to get everything that you need for tonight.”

“I—you… wait is this my good bra? How did you—”

“Us kwamis pay attention, Marinette.” Tikki cuddled up to her cheek.

“Et tu, Tikki?”

The ladybug kwami just giggled and made her way to the pile of papers scattered across Alya’s bed, starting to organize them back into neat stacks.

“Night. Off.” Alya punctuated each word with a shove and a smack on the bum, directing Marinette toward the bathroom and shutting her in to get ready while she got the door for Nino.

[tanoraqui]

Oh God, genii locorum Sizhui ficlet is so beautiful, thank you for writing it, I really love this whole concept of sentient lands and its done magnificently here. I particularly like descriptions of how it feels to take power ( and description of Unclean Realm is so magnificent), Jiang Cheng's part ( I agree so much, he is always, at best, second choice), and also how it's shrinking of responsibility that leads to CR abandoning Wangji ( I spent far too much time thinking of CR as 1/2

sentient land...) . So, again, thank you for this beautiful piece, you really have way with words! 2/2

:) :) :) Thanks! (re: this thing)

For you, and the other poor bastards who’ve asked if there’s more, I will share the tragically small entirety of the rest of my thoughts about this au. It ended where it was best, I think, but what’s next is:

Wei Wuxian re-downloads the geographic manifestation of pure death back into his soul and everything is so fresh that after he sees Lan Wangji and A-Yuan, he can’t help but search out Jiang Cheng. Just to be sure - 

He’s right there at the front of the crowd, frozen stepping forward with his sword half-raised, a look on his face like he just watched shijie die again. Aw, hell. Is that some sort of deathy feedback, or are they going to have to...talk. About. Feelings. 

Jin Ling is half a step behind him, lit up like a sunbeam with his alarm and LanlingJin’s. A moment ago, he was the only person with real power left in this cave - and thank god that’s changed, because LanlingJin has never been a land optimized for combat, especially not against the dead. They don’t care about illusions or blinding-bright light. You can do a lot with a good hard light construct, but, well, Jin Ling’s not that good, et.

The last time LanlingJin came to the Burial Mounds (and YunmengJiang, QIngheNie, BalingOuyang...) they came to kill the Yiling Patriarch. The Burial Mounds snarls for vengeance and Wei Wuxian runs a soothing hand down the wall at his back. 

He lets his gaze run over the crowd, then. Every cultivator old enough to remember the Sunshot Campaign take another step back, as do most of the rest. Nie Huaisang is ducked behind a fan like it’s a shield. The exception is several of the Lan juniors, led by Lan Jingyi, who are just looking at Lan Sizhui in concern. 

Yeah, the kids are alright

He claps his hands cheerfully. “Alright! Well, I still can’t beat the Tiger Seal, but I can necrotize them until they melt into little puddles of sad goo that can’t hurt anyone. Between that and Hanguang-jun, we should be fine, so...anyone who doesn’t want to be exposed to terrible death soup, get ready to run!” He turns to Lan Wangji (they still need to draw the corpses’ attention.) “Hey Lan Zhan, can I borrow your outer robe? I need something to write on.”

And on a lighter (ha) note, an incomplete list of things that have made Jin Ling glow:

being unexpectedly tapped on the shoulder (bright flare, quickly stifled)

shouting argument with his jiujiu (steadily increasing the longer the fight goes)

trying to talk to a pretty girl (follows the blush)

toddler temper tantrum (tiny star, handle with closed eyes)

being tackled and licked by Fairy (flicker like laughing candlelight even while he complains that her breath stinks)

sitting on a Yunmeng pier with his feet in the water in the late afternoon, eating melon, after a several hours of training in which he think he might have done well (soft consistent glow of contentment, invisible until the sun sets further)

Yi City (the whole time, like a lightbulb. the vibes were just bad. He kept trying to stifle it for stealth but everything was just bad.)

[leias-left-hair-bun-again]

Weird Writing Asks:

10, 19, 22, 26, 36

You don't have to answer all of them. 😂 That's a lot.

ksljfks not at all, i see this as a challenge! >:D

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice…what do you Know?

can i say ‘nothing’ slkfjskdf uhhh what do i know. i know what it’s like to feel unwanted and invisible, i also know what it’s like to be around someone who loves you so much it’s almost tangibly warm and bright. i know no one’s actually alone and that we’ve all been given both the potential for and a promise that we can find joy in this life, even if things seem very bad overall. i know that everyone’s deserving of second and third and fourth chances, i know how it feels to hold a grudge instead. i know that losing people can be excruciatingly painful but i also know that there’s a life after this where we’ll get to see them again and looking forward to that feels exciting and joyful. i know - how to say this; i know that pain and sorrow, while sharper in the moment, is just plain not as strong as love and peace and that you can spend weeks depressed out of your mind or in terrible physical pain and then get a nice squeezy hug from someone you’re close to and hear that they love you, or snuggle up with a soft warm cat and listen to it purr, and somehow that’s all that matters

does that count? XD

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

if i’m not already accidentally in their head, i have to put headphones on and pace the floor for a while - ‘talk out’ conversations and scenarios until i’ve lost myself entirely. then i can try writing, and then it’s back to acting things out again, only at my computer XD there’s a lot of facial expressions and wild gesturing involved, i’ve spilt dr pepper on my keyboard more than once while involved in an argument between characters. and honestly - i don’t think i’ve often regretted getting into anyone’s head? i tend to get very worked up before writing if i’ve read about or thought about a character being in a situation/state of mind that i urgently feel i need to process or fix, and once i’ve led a character or characters through a fic - i guess i just don’t struggle to separate myself afterwards. idk if that’s what’s mean by ‘regret’ in this situation haha but yeah, i don’t think i really feel that way?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

ahhhhhhh...i’m not D: i’m really not, this is one of my biggest failings in - life, really; i fall apart when things aren’t orderly and regulated and yet i can’t seem to manage to keep anything organized /: if i could just get into some good habits i know i’d be able to do the more complicated AUs and long fics i want to, but alas, i never so much as used an outline for a school essay and i’ve got a painfully steep hill to climb in terms of learning how to be functional about these things

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

oh let’s see - i was a rabid bookworm as a child, when my parents took me to other people’s houses i made a beeline for the bookcase and just sat and read until they came back to pick me up XD so naturally i was also the kind of child who thought it would be just brilliant to be an author. i liked writing poetry; there were set rules and formulas for poetry and i could work with that. i struggled with prose though - my teachers advanced me several grades in english and told me i was brilliant except when it came to creative writing and that i...basically should aim to write nonfiction and nonfiction alone XD original stories were the only essays i didn’t get As and praise on and it crushed my spirit lol so i kind of stopped trying to write stories by the time i started middle school; i had one brief moment where i wrote a random Hobbit fanfic out of pure spite when i was around 14, and then outside of a previous collaborative effort with my brother (we wrote a lengthy Lego Star Wars fanfic which we called a ‘parody’; he dictated the events to me and i turned it into a cohesive piece of writing) i didn’t really write again until september of 2020 after my grandmother died and i found myself needing a way to process. i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to write anything original or even write good fanfiction, but. i hope with more practice i’ll be able to at least do one or the other! i’d love to write children’s books but i just don’t have the kind of creativity to come up with my own ideas right now, so i write kidfics a lot instead XD

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

oooh okay ‘haunted’ can mean several different things, i don’t tend to think of it with the negative connotation nearly as much as i do - uhhh - how to say it. you know that feeling where you suddenly remember a bit of music, except you can’t remember the actual notes or anything of what it sounded like? almost as if you’re looking at the impression a piece of jewelry made in velvet. so you can remember the way the music sort of felt both emotionally and physically, and the kind of atmosphere it created - but not what it sounded like, and it’s such a strong impression you have to sit down and put some effort into working backwards through it until you can finally remember the piece. that’s what ‘haunting’ means to me and i experience it a lot XD i have a very overactive imagination and reading is a sure way to get it going buuuut the language processing center of my brain is a straight-up garbage fire and i struggle to remember actual quotes from books; so *waves hand at my bookcase* you can pull out any book i really love and there’s probably a bit in there that haunts me!

[xxxlovedandlostxxx]

Send ⭐️⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ (or multiple) for a headcanon about our muses.

⭐️- They discover that they both enjoy stimming, in some way, and Stiles likes smooth things, but Anthony likes texture, so fuzzy fabrics, lucky rabbit's feet and the like often soothe him ⭐️ - Anthony never knows quite how to react to getting a homecooked meal or a baked good, or tea from Stiles. He has little-to-no experience with that. Like, his mom would cook vegan food that he ate out of politeness, and his dad always ordered food (usually sushi or something), so Anthony chose to fend for himself more and would order something easy. But here Stiles comes with fresh tea and cookies or something, and it short-circuits his brain, and he is stuck on how to react. (thank you, Anthony. You say Thank you).

⭐️ - Anthony is deathy afraid to fall asleep in front of others, particularly those he's attracted to. He had sleep disorders as a kid. Nightmares, sleepwalking, sleeptalking, and every once in a blue moon, he still talks in his sleep. take that for what you will.

⭐️ - if they're in a location together as a social thing, Anthony has ditched Stiles before. For reasons. (not good reasons).

⭐️ - Anthony was born into more strangeness but actually has the far more normal life, and he's BEWILDERED as to how Stiles finds himself in such dire situations all of the time. In his mind, supernatural trouble is like being a celebrity and dealing with the paparazzi. If one leads a quiet life, paparrazo tend to leave celebrities alone, it's the ones that court the attention while doth protesting too much that have the problems. The strangest thing that happens around Anthony is that he could probably introduce Stiles to the president through his mother if he wanted. Or have his dad give Stiles access to a movie-set. As for Anthony's life at home, he's like... I need to downvote this reddit thread while dealing with writer's block. He's like why is Stiles, Mr. Excitement Martyr Dude interested in me??

[acciotonystank]

Soft To Be Strong

Read on AO3

It started with a sore throat, as it always does. On a Wednesday, of all days. Peter didn’t exactly take much notice of it, which he may have done had it not been for the plethora of assignments that currently hung over his head. He just forced down a cup of ginger tea (nasty stuff) and hurried out of the apartment to catch the train to school.

It wasn’t until he was walking across the football field, a tickle in his throat, that Peter came to the realization that he hadn’t gotten sick since before the bite. For a while he’d thought that maybe he couldn’t get sick anymore, but he supposed that was out the window now. And when a cough forced its way from his throat, leaving him wincing slightly, all he could think about was the really inconvenient timing.

Trying to get work done with an irritated throat was one thing, but then the headache snuck up on him, developing into steady, faint throb by fifth period. He hoped desperately that this was going to be it - he couldn’t afford to take time off school right now - but he had a feeling more was coming.

Sure enough, the following morning, he woke to a faint ache throughout his body and kicked the blankets off himself to cool down a bit, despite the grey skies outside his window. When he staggered out into the kitchen to make himself breakfast, May raised her eyebrows at him.

“You don’t look so good, baby. You think you’re okay for school?”

Peter nodded his head, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible, “I’m fine, May. Just a bit of a cold. Besides, I really can’t miss class right now.”

“Alright,” she pressed her lips together. “But call me if you need anything. If it gets much worse, I might see if I can get out of the trip. It’s last minute, but I’m sure they can fill the spot.”

“No, no, don’t do that,” Peter hastily shook his head. “Really, May, I’m fine. I can take care of myself. Besides, I know you’re super excited about those seminars.”

“We’ll see. You’re going to the tower this afternoon, right? Maybe you can ask Tony if he can keep an eye on you.”

“May!” he whined, ducking away from her hand that reached to feel his forehead. “It’s just a cold! you don’t need to cancel the trip and you definitely don’t need to bring Mister Stark into this. That’s just embarrassing. He’s not my nanny.”

“You’ve got a point,” she agreed thoughtfully, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. “I’ll see about getting you a nanny then.”

“May.”

    “You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” Happy commented, ten minutes after picking the teenager up from school.

Peter let out a small chuckle, only to wince slightly at the pain in his throat. “I’ve just got a bit of a cold, but I’m fine.”

The man just gave him an unimpressed look. “Alright, but don’t go spreading that around. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” he sighed, leaning back.

When Peter walked into the lab, Mister Stark looked up at him with a smile, only to instantly narrow his eyes. And, look, to be honest, he was beginning to feel a bit offended at this point. Did he really look that bad? Without a word, the man just pulled a small bottle out of the draw beside him and threw it to Peter. Reading the label, he rolled his eyes, but squeezed some of the hand sanitiser into his palm and rubbed his hands together. He offered the bottle back to Mister Stark, but he shook his head.

“That’s yours now. You look like you’ll need it.”

“Ouch,” he frowned. “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

“No, but I know you and I know you always downplay everything so I’m just being cautious. Are you sure you wanna be here, kid? You’ll feel better sooner if you just rest.”

“Is this you trying to get rid of me?”

“No, Underoos,” Mister Stark rolled his eyes. “I just don’t want you working yourself to death.”

“I’m fine, Mister Stark, really,” Peter promised. “Besides, May’s a nurse, remember? I’m in good hands.”

“Okay, but I’m making you tea. Apparently lemon and ginger is great for colds.”

Peter groaned, letting his head drop onto his desk.

About two hours later, when Mister Stark brought him a fresh mug of tea, Peter gripped it tightly, holding it close to him for warmth, web shooters cast aside, forgotten about. The older man gave him a calculating look.

“Just twenty minutes ago you were taking off your jacket and now your all wrapped up again and practically cuddling that mug?” he asked suspiciously, reaching out a hand to feel Peter’s forehead. He went to dodge it, but something about that took too long to process, and suddenly the back of Mister Stark’s cold hand was pressed against his clammy forehead. “Okay, you’re done. FRI, what’s his temp?”

“Peter’s body temperature is currently one hundred point six degrees Fahrenheit.”

Mister Stark let out a sigh. “Alright, call his aunt, let her know he’s staying the night.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “What? No! Mister Stark, it’s not that bad, honest. It’s just a cold. I’ve got super-healing, remember? I’ll be fine. Besides, like I said, she’s a nurse, she’ll wanna be able to keep an eye on me. You’re a genius and all, but this is her area, anyway.”

In his defence, none of that was a lie, per se. Mister Stark didn’t need to know that May was leaving the next day for a three-day seminar interstate. If he did, Peter was sure that he would insist on keeping Peter in the tower, and he really didn’t want the man to have to deal with him with the flu. 

“Fine,” the billionaire conceded. "I’ll have Happy take you home. Then I’ll see about getting the lab thoroughly sanitised. And don’t even think about patrolling for the next few days.”

A sarcastic ‘yes, dad’ teetered on the tip of Peter’s tongue, before he realised what he was about to say and snapped his mouth shut and nodded. “Thanks, Mister Stark. Sorry for… contaminating the place.”

“Just take care of yourself, alright, Pete? Rest, stay hydrated… all that shit. And if your aunt gets sick of you, you’re welcome to come here.”

He doubted that would happen, but gave the man a dry smile anyway “Thanks.”

After dinner, Peter tried to get some work done. He really did. But when May had come in to check on him, only to find him asleep at his desk, clammy forehead sticking to his maths book, she forced him to go to bed, despite his protests. To be fair, he knew that he could barely get anything done in his state, but sitting in front of his work staring blankly at it somehow felt more productive than going to bed to rest. Although a substantial part of him felt too tired to shower, Peter felt quite gross and knew he’d regret it in the morning if he didn’t, so he reluctantly dragged himself into the shower, placing a hand on the tiled wall to hold himself up. He cleaned his teeth for what he estimated was somewhere between 20 and 30 seconds before he decided his teeth could wait but bed could not.

There were many words Peter could choose from to describe how he felt when he woke up the following morning. However, he decided that the most accurate and comprehensive word was ‘shit’. Though, if swear words weren’t allowed, then ‘deathy’ would suffice. He was pretty sure ‘deathy’ was not actually a word, but if ‘chillax’ is accepted by the Oxford English dictionary then surely it’d make its way in there eventually.

Despite Peter’s quite rigorous shivers, it felt like his whole body was damp with sweat. His throat felt like someone had shoved sandpaper down it, all his muscles felt achy and weak, and his nose felt stuffy too. He lifted his head up to look at the time, only to find that his skull suddenly seemed very heavy and flopped back down exhaustedly. He desperately wanted some water to soothe his throat, but moving was really tiring and he didn’t want to leave the warmth of his bed.

Fortunately, it was only a few minutes later that May knocked on his door. He let out some interpretive noise that she apparently understood correctly as a ‘come in’ and stopped suddenly in the doorway when she saw him.

“I don’t think I have to tell you this,” she began, “but you’re definitely not going to school today.”

She came back a few seconds later with some ibuprofen, a glass of water with a straw and a thermometer, not even saying a word before, handing him the pills, pushing the straw in front of his lips and then placing the thermometer under his tongue. 

“You’re at one hundred and two point five,” she muttered with a frown, shaking her head slightly. “I’m cancelling the trip, I’m not leaving you like this.”

“No, no, no,” Peter croaked. “I’m okay, May, I can look after myself. It’s just a slight fever.”

“It could get worse,” May argued gently, brushing his damp hair back. “I know you can look after yourself, hun, but I don’t want you to. What kind of parent would I be if I left you alone looking like this?”

Peter forced a playful grin. “Devilishly handsome?”

“Like shit,” she corrected bluntly, rolling her eyes at him. “It’s not a big deal, Peter,  there’ll be other opportunities like this.”

“I don’t want you to miss out because of me. I’ll be fine, honest. And if it does get worse, I’ll call Mister Stark.” He really hoped it didn’t get worse because he wasn’t planning on living up to that promise at all. “Besides, you’re meant to leave in a few hours, it’d definitely be too late to fill your spot now and it’d just be a waste. I’m not dying or anything, I’m just a bit sick, but I’ll start getting better soon and then you’ll have missed out for no reason.”

“Having peace of mind that you’re okay will never be a waste, Peter,” May said firmly.

“I’ll call you, then. I’ll call you every night and you can get updates and tell me what I should be doing and be reassured that I’m okay. How ‘bout that?”

The woman let out a sigh, looking conflicted. “Fine. But if I see fit, I’m coming back early, alright? And make sure Tony knows what’s going on just in case.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

      Peter was not doing well late that night. In his defence, he really thought he would be getting better by now. He had thought his healing factor would have kicked in by now and that he wouldn’t have gotten this sick in the first place. Instead, he seemed to be getting progressively worse, his temperature spikes growing more severe, his muscles growing achier, his breath growing shorter and his throat growing more painful. Not to mention the mucus he kept coughing up. His chest had started to hurt from all the coughing, and no amount of water relieved it. When May called him from her hotel room, he had to fight her again to stay, insisting he was fine and could take care of himself and that he sounded worse thane felt (a lie).

A day later, there was still no change, and Peter had hardly eaten a thing. This was for a number of reasons: 1) despite feeling hungry and knowing he needed to eat, he really didn’t feel like it. He was simultaneously ravenous and disgusted by the idea of eating and it was a very conflicting time. 2) just swallowing his own spit hurt his throat, swallowing fluids irritated it even more, he could only imagine how agoniizng trying to get anything more substantial than milk down. And 3) he highkey could not be bothered. Partly due to his perpetual weakness and exhaustion, but also because of the steady ache in his muscles that triggered protest whenever he tried to leave his bed.

So, no, he hadn’t showered since Thursday night, but he was the only one home and given the fact that he wasn’t leaving his bed, his stink would be confined to his bedroom.

Although he was expecting it, when his phone rang and May’s contact lit up the screen, he panicked a little.

“Hello,” he practiced to himself, shaking his head when it came out weak and croaky. He tried a couple more times to try and make his voice sound more normal, but to no avail. He just stared blankly at the ringing phone trying to figure out what to do until it stopped ringing, and his panic rose slightly. If he texted to say he was in the shower or in another room when she called, she would just call back again, but if he ignored it, he knew the woman would probably fret and assume he was dying. Mind you, it didn’t feel too far from the truth.

He needed to respond with something that would reassure her he was okay while also giving an excuse not to call her and not being suspicious as hell about it.

Peter

Hey May! I’m okay, but my voice is gone right now so I can’t actually talk.

May

I can come back, it’s really not a problem

Peter

I’m beginning to feel better, my voice is just really weak but I’m okay. There’s no point coming back now.

May

Alright but let me know if you need anything.

Peter really did hate lying to May, but he didn’t want her missing out on the seminars just because he was sick. Just as he was contemplating the effort of getting up to get another glass of water, his phone rang again, this time it was Mister Stark. He definitely didn’t want him to know how sick he was, because he knew the man would feel some kind of obligation to take care of him and he also didn’t want to be seen in this state - he was Spider-Man, after all. So he didn’t have to wait for it to ring out, Peter declined the call and started to write a text to explain why he couldn’t answer. He was just about to send it when a notification for a voicemail popped up.

“Kid, what the hell?” Mister Stark demanded. “I just got a call from your aunt asking me to check up on you because apparently you’re very unwell and she’s in fucking Michigan for work, which you conveniently failed to mention when you insisted she’d want to keep an eye on you. And she thinks you’re not being honest and now you fucking decline my call? So help me God, Peter Parker, if you don’t call me back in ten minutes I am flying over there in a suit and you will not like it.”

Peter cringed, and deleted the text he had been about to send.

Peter Sorry Mister Stark, I just didn’t want you to worry or feel like you had to take care of me or anything. I’m okay, but my voice is gone at the moment so that’s why I declined the call. Figured it’d freak you out if you tried to talk to me and just heard wheezing on the other end lol

Mister Stark I’m coming over.

Peter I’m fine, Mister Stark, I’m just resting and stuff. It’s late and I’m about to go to sleep anyway.

Mister Stark

If you want people to take you seriously when you say ‘I’m fine’ maybe you shouldn’t say it so often when you’re definitely not fine.

Peter ¯\_( ツ )_/¯

Mister Stark Stop using that thing to respond to everything. And fine but I’m coming over tomorrow. Call me if you need something before then though.

Peter Yea okay, I’ll cough in morse code if I still can’t talk

Mister Stark I’m serious kid

Peter So am I 😤

Mister Stark Bless you?

Peter Lmao that wasn’t a sneeze Mister Stark, it’s a huff of frustration

Mister Stark Whatever.

Peter Goodnight Mister Stark

Mister Stark Night kiddo. Sleep well.

    Peter had thought Saturday was bad, but come Sunday morning, he knew he wasn’t okay. He had been so confident that he would feel at least a bit better, but instead he woke up with the instinctual feeling that something was wrong. He wasn’t exactly sure why this feeling way only now, considering how he had hardly been in a decent state yesterday, but then his heart rate and breathing were even more erratic than yesterday, and the sharp pain in his chest was certainly knew.

He wondered vaguely if he had simply coughed so much that his lungs had been dislodged from their usual position. That would make sense. And look, Peter knew that shivering violently while simultaneously sweating was not a great sign, but by now, he had insisted he was fine so many times that now he’d be facing ‘I told you so’s if it turned that he was not, in fact, okay. Though, at this point, that wasn’t so much of a hypothetical as a fact.

He was not okay, and it was probably time he asked for help, especially considering the fact he hadn’t eaten in over twenty four hours or had a drink on about fourteen, which was very bad news for someone with his metabolism.

Peter fumbled for his phone, opening Mister Stark’s contact and pressing the call button.

It rang. And rang. And rang. And rang.

“You know who I am and you know what to do.”

Beep.

    “I just don’t think meetings should be allowed on Sundays - FRI, do not disturb - I mean, who wants to attend meetings on a Sunday? I certainly don’t.”

Pepper sighed exasperatedly. “As you’ve abundantly clear. Besides, some people have very schedules and don’t have another option.”

“Hey, I have a busy schedule,” Tony defended as the pair walked towards one of the conference rooms.

“Take time in the lab out of that.”

Tony paused. “It’s a bit less busy. But that’s besides the point! My lab time is very important, that’s where I give birth to my brainchildren.”

“Ugh, please never say that again. And I literally saw you and Peter setting up a blanket fort in there one time.”

“He’s a kid!”

“That’s fine, but the problem is you act like a kid too when you’re a grown man.”

“I mean… I never actually grew a whole lot.”

“Exhibit A,” Pepper scowled.

“Anyway, that kid has come down with something and his aunt is away for work so if we could wrap this up quickly so I can make sure he hasn’t sneezed himself unconscious, that would be great.”

“Come down with what? A cold?”

“Something like that. He had a bit of a fever when he came over on Thursday, maybe it’s the flu.”

“Poor thing,” she frowned.

“When I’m sick you always just tell me to woman up,” Tony grumbled.

“And yet...Mr Burgess, Miss Doyle, hi,” she greeted as they walked into the room, shooting Tony a pointed look.

He plastered on a fake smile as he offered his hand and hoped this would be over quickly.

    As it turned out, it was not over quickly. When the two finally left, Tony sighed heavily and slumped back in his seat.

“I do appreciate you being here,” Pepper acknowledged, giving him a small smile. “I know you hate these, so thank you for not making an excuse not to come. Anyway, I need to finish writing my speech for the benefit, but keep me updated on the kid.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make dinner tonight?”

Pepper glanced down at her watch and gave him a teasing grin. “It’s nearly noon, Tony, you’d better get started then.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but pressed a gently kiss to her lips before she left. He frowned when he checked his phone and saw he had a voicemail from Peter, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Mis-Mister Stark,” he rasped, and Tony’s heart seized. “I dont- I don’t feel well, something’s… wrong. Everything- I can’t-… hurts….”

God, he sounded miserable and the kid’s sniffled told him he was in tears. The message was from nearly two hours ago. Tony swallowed harshly, already jogging out the door, trying not to panic.

Something’s wrong, Peter had said, his tone desperate.

“FRIDAY, why wasn’t I alerted?” he demanded.

“Your current ‘Do Not Disturb’ protocol mutes all calls except those related to Avengers-level threats and emergencies.”

“From now on, all calls from Peter come through, no matter what.”

“Yes, Boss. Protocol amended.”

“Call him,” he ordered, getting into one of his cars.

Peter picked up on the third ring, his voice croaky, but relieved. “Mister Stark?”

“Kid, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I don’t feel so good, Mister Stark. I thought- I thought I’d be better by now but I just keep getting worse and I don’t feel right. Like obviously I feel like- like shit, but it’s like my spider sense is kicking up now and- I can’t explain it, but I’m scared Mister Stark." 

“I’ll be there soon, Pete. I’m on my way, okay?” I’ll take care of you. “We’ll take care of this. I’m gonna guess given your current state that you actually weren’t fine yesterday?”

“I didn’t wanna bother you,” Peter explained weakly.

“The only time you bother me is when you hide stuff form me out of fear of being a bother and in doing so, causing me to panic.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tony exhaled deeply, something in his chest uncoiling slightly. “C’mon, bud, we’ve talked about this. You need help, you ask for it, you’ll get it. You need to stop with the keeping everything to yourself because I always find out anyway and it just makes me worry.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated with a sniffle.

“What have you had to eat and drink today?” There was silence on the other end and Tony clenched his jaw. “You gotta at least drink something, kiddo. You need to stay hydrated.”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna ask you something and you need to be honest with me. Did you just say you lost your voice last night so you didn’t have to talk to me and inevitably have me realise that you clearly needed help?”

“In hindsight, that was really dumb,” Peter admitted with a weak laugh.

Tony took in a deep, calming breath. “I’m glad you called me when you did. Even if you don’t need help, it’s nice to have it when you’re sick. Just sit tight and I’ll be there soon, alright?”

While the drive was usually about half an hour, Tony made it in twenty minutes. He would have been calmer if Peter was just sick, but his mention of his spider sense had him on edge. When he arrived at the apartment building, he hurried up to Peter’s floor and knocked on their door.

“Pete? I’m here. Let me in, kid.”

A few moments and a few indistinguishable sounds later the door opened, revealing Peter standing there, gripping the doorknob tightly and swaying slightly. Tony had thought he’d known what to expect based on the teenager’s voice over the phone, but standing there in front of him, he realised it was even worse than he thought.

Peter’s face was sunken, flushed and clammy, heavy bags under his eyes. His lips were dry and cracked and his hair stuck to his sweaty face. He blinked slowly, as if trying to process who was standing in front of him, only to wobble slightly and begin to fall. Tony insanely reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder to hold him up, wincing at the heat radiating off his skin.

“Shit,” he muttered, having to use more of his strength as Peter just continued sinking lower and lower. He immediately fumbled for his phone. “Kid, c’mon, you gotta work with me here - FRI, what’s his temperature?”

“Peter’s body temperature is currently one hundred and six point nine degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Fuck!”

“He is in hyperpyrexia and medical attention should be sought urgently. In the meantime, it is recommended you try to lower his body temperature as soon as possible. I suggest you run a cool bath and apply a cool damp washcloth to his forehead.”

“Okay, okay. Call Bruce!”

Tony hooked an arm under Peter’s knees and carried him to the bathroom, placing him in the bath  still fully dressed and turning on the tap. The boy immediately protested, jerking in response to the cold water and deliriously trying to climb out.

“No, no, Pete, you need to stay, we gotta bring your fever down.”

“Tony? What’s going on?”

“Bruce!” Tony cried out in relief. “It’s the kid - he’s really sick, his temperature is through the roof, it’s at a hundred and six point nine. I’m- I’ve got him in the bath right - stay still, kid - in the bath right now but I don’t know what else to do.”

“First you gotta calm down, you can’t help him if you’re in a panic. Keep him in the bath for now, I’ll get a bed and a team set up ASAP. Get a suit ready so you can bring him straight to the tower on my signal.”

“Okay,” he breathed, nodding to himself and using his watch to summon suit before grabbing a wash cloth and holding Peter down so he could press it against his forehead.

“It’s s-s-so c-cold!” the teenager whined, writhing weakly, reaching a wet hand out and gripping the lapel of his suit jacket.

“It’s not, Underoos, you’re just super hot right now. That’s why I gotta do this.”

“I really am sorry,” he cried, tears forming in his eyes. “I’m sorry, can I p-please get out?”

He stared desperately at Tony, a pleading expression on his face. His eyes glistened in agony, his pupils boring into Tony’s and begging him to make it stop. Tony felt a painful tug at his heart, wanting nothing more than to take away his suffering and feeling utterly useless. While he knew , logically, that the cool bath was meant to help reduce his temperature, an instinctual part of him wanted to snatch the boy out of there and wrap him up. That same part of him sent chilling tidal waves of guilt that crashed angrily in his chest at the fact that he was the one who put Peter here, that he was forcing him to stay in the water that was making him so uncomfortable.

“This isn’t a punishment, Pete, Christ,” he whispered brokenly, finding it progressively harder to watch the boy’s struggle. "I’m only doing this because I have to, okay? The flu can be really dangerous, it can- it can- shit. I’m not mad at you, I promise. But you’re really hot and I know it doesn’t feel like but we’ve gotta cool you down. But Bruce is getting ready to treat you and when he’s ready we’ll get out of here, okay?”

Tony knew there would most likely be further unpleasant methods of reducing Peter’s body temperature, but he didn’t need to know the right now. He began scooping water up in his hands and pouring it gently over Peter’s head and running it through his hair, forcing himself to continue even when he flinched violently and tried to pull away.

“Peter, please, I need you to stop fighting me.”

The teenager stared at him through red-rimmed eyes for a moment before reluctantly nodding his head and weakly breathing out, “okay”. He screwed his eyes shut and tensed his body, only shaking slightly when Tony poured another lot of water onto his hair.

“Doctor Banner recommends that you depart for the tower now,” FRIDAY alerted him. “He will be ready by the time of your arrival.”

“Okay, kiddo, we’re done, how about that?” Tony breathed, helping Peter out of the bath. “I’m gonna get in the suit and fly you to the Medbay where Bruce will fix you, alright?”

Peter nodded weakly as the suit formed around Tony, and let himself be lifted up by his metal-encased arms. Only minutes later, he was stepping out of the suit in the medbay and handing him over to the medical team, who immediately intubated and ventilated him, as well as putting him on a drip.

He heard words like ‘hypoxia’, ’respiratory distress’ and ‘bronchoscopy’ and wondered how he could have possibly missed the kid’s lungs giving out. He had literally been about to leave to go to the kid’s apartment the previous night, but had decided against it when Peter insisted he was about to go to bed out of concern that he would be overbearing or hovering too much. He should have gone anyway just to check, he should have known Peter would be playing it down.

It didn’t matter how many safety measures he set up, Tony would always be worried about Peter getting hurt as Spider-Man. He had imagined every dangerous scenario he could think of, fretted over the many ways Peter could end up severely injured or dead from patrol. Out of all the risks he faced on a day-to-day basis, he had never considered this, never thought that the fucking flu might be what killed him.

“Tony."

The man glanced up as Bruce approached.

“I think I know what’s going on-“

“You ‘think’?” Tony snapped, his face crumpling in guilt seconds after the words left his mouth. “Sorry.”

The doctor just shook his head dismissively. “Most flu-related deaths-“ Tony flinched. “-aren’t caused by the actual influenza virus, rather a secondary infection - usually pneumonia - or an overreaction from the immune system. Usually white blood cells and antibodies are sent out to eliminate the threat and T cells destroy the affected tissue, which is predominantly in the respiratory tract and lungs. However, sometimes the response can be too strong and damage too much tissue, restricting the amount oxygen delivered to the blood, which… given Peter’s accelerated healing-“

“So, basically his body is destroying itself,” he interrupted weakly.

“Essentially,” Bruce nodded. “The bronchoscopy will show the extent of the damage, and if that is the case, then we can put him on ECMO, which basically improves the gas exchange, preventing further hypoxia and organ damage, allowing the lungs to begin to heal. We’ve also got him on antibiotics, ibuprofen and an IV, so once his fever breaks and his body realises it can stop attacking itself, it can work to repair the damage. He’s going to be okay, Tony.”

Tony let out a breath of relief. “You know, you could’ve started with that.”

“Maybe,” he agreed with a small smile. “But then you wouldn’t have listened to anything I said and then ask questions and then I’d just have to repeat everything I said.”

“Sorry, what did you just say? I wasn’t listening.”

    Tony stirred awake from his position beside Peter’s bed when some kind of shuffling noise disturbed his sleep. He blinked slowly, sitting up straighter when he realised the source of the noise was Peter, writing something down on a notepad, restricted slightly by the ventilator. Seeing that the man was awake, Peter tore off the sheet and handed it to him.

This is getting repetitive.

A scoff passed through his lips. “Then stop almost dying."

Peter’s small grin faded, a frown forming gnosis face before he started scrawling something down again.

I’m sorry for lying to you. That was super dumb.

“Kid, you never have to worry about bothering me, okay? I just want you safe and happy, and this whole ‘lying so that you don’t annoy me’ bullshit needs to stop. I can’t help you if you don’t let me, and when I can’t help you, it stresses me out. And for God’s sake, stop saying ‘I’m fine’ when you’re very not fine.”

Peter nodded solemnly before beginning to write again. Did you end up sanitising the lab?

“Yup. Glad I did too. I’m a total wuss when I’m sick.”

Yeah, I bet.

Tony scowled meanwhile Peter grinned, shoulder shaking slightly with laughter. “Don’t test me, Underoos, or I’ll sell your Spider-Man suit on Amazon.”

    Four days later, after being gradually tapered off oxygen support until Bruce declared his lungs to be sufficiently healed, Peter was on his feet, back to his usual restless, bubbly nature. Naturally, May had been less than pleased to find out Peter had been struggling so much and refusing to ask for help, and even more so when she realised how severe the situation had been. To Peter’s credit, the kid had taken the scolding in his stride and acknowledged his mistakes, promising to not let anything like it happen again.

Tony made that same promise to himself.

Which is why, when Peter sneezed in the lab three weeks later, he may have overreacted. The teenager didn’t seem to think anything of it, but then Tony was shoving a box of tissues and a mug of tea in front of him and his eyes widened.

“I’m not sick, it was just a sneeze, I’m honestly-“

“FRIDAY, give me his body temperature.” 

“Mister Stark!” 

“Peter’s body temperature is currently at ninety-eight point five degrees Fahrenheit, sir.” 

“See, I’m fine! No fever.” 

Tony stared at him through slightly narrowed eyes. “Maybe I should get Bruce, just in case.”

“No! I do not need Bruce Banner checking on me for a freaking sneeze!” 

“FRI, call Bruce.” 

Peter let out a helpless whine, letting his head fall onto the desk with a thud. 

“Great, now he’s gotta check for head injury, too.” 

“Mister Stark!”  

[photogirl894]

Fanfiction asks

11, 21, 83, 98

Hey thanks, Deathy!! 🥰

11. What’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? Also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

I haven't had to do as much research for fanfic as much as I have for my Bad Batch one! Like, holy shit 😅 When you're writing for a HUGE galaxy like that, you gotta make sure you get your facts straight about a lot of things! I think the most interesting thing I learned was that there's a connected history between the planets Tatooine and Bestine. A ship of Bestine colonists crashed on Tatooine and those people ended up settling the city of Eisley, which later became Mos Eisley. They ship they crashed on was later transformed into a hotel. Pretty neat, huh? Wookiepedia has been my friend through all of this! 😁😁

I also found a pretty canon accurate galaxy map with most of the planets in Star Wars, so it's been fun and challenging to look through it and locate all the planets we've seen or heard of so far as well as see where they all are. It's fun to see what planets are closer together in some areas. Because of that, I found out that Skako Minor is actually pretty close to Coruscant and I couldn't help think, "Rex must feel so guilty cuz all that time he thought Echo was dead, Echo was so close to him!!"

21. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.

You and me, let's write a book on how to adopt our mutuals and co-parent them 😜

83. Less is more or more is more?

Hmm depends. Straight and to the point works sometimes, but if you really wanna sell something in a scene, then you gotta give them more!

98. What don’t you like about your writing style?

I feel like I use more dialogue than descriptive language to keep a scene moving, but no one's ever complained about it, so I assume my readers don't mind. That and I feel sometimes I don't quite know how to describe some things like actions or emotions so it just turned into "he did this" or "she said that and then did this", like just straightforward without any sort of descriptive language. I don't know 🤷‍♀️

Ask game for fanfic writers