#that burnt orange look ughhh

[endless-ineffabilities]

husband for a day

Ewan Mitchell x best friend reader

a/n: another spur-of-the-moment baby :) that is all.

main masterlist

With a resounding groan, you push your hair out of your face, and reach for your bedside. You prop your phone on its side to watch as 5:07 PM flashes on the screen.

Great. An entire day wasted.

You roll over on your back, eyes involuntarily squinting at the last burnt orange rays of sunlight reflected on your ceiling. All at once, an overwhelming thirst takes a hold of you, as well as the initial telltale signs of a killer migraine.

"Ewaaaan!"

Your best friend pokes his head through your door. Upon confirming that you're indeed awake, he saunters into the room while sporting a wide grin. "Well, look who's finally up."

"I don't wanna be," you moan, pressing your palms to your eyes.

"Love, you slept.... 10 hours already." Ewan perches beside you, clutching your wrists and pulling them down, clearing the way for him to press a kiss on your forehead. "Get up, trooper, come on now."

You sit up, immediately feeling woozy. Oh yeah, the alcohol was still sloshing inside of you, that treacherous devil juice making you feel like a lump of coal.

"Ughhh, I can’t." You lean your head against his shoulder, which shakes with his laughter—not exactly helping your headache. You grip him tight with both hands. "Stop fucking moving, Ewan Robert."

"Alright, ducky," he presses a kiss atop your head, allowing you to seek comfort as you anchor yourself to him, wrapping your legs and arms around his figure like a sloth. Another softer laugh escapes him. He caresses your back soothingly, then says, "I've got a glass of water and aspirin right here. You should take a drink first, okay? You'll feel much better, I promise."

No response. He begins to think that you've fallen asleep on him, when your eye opens just a crack, "Do you promise?"

"I'd never lie to you, ducky." He hands you the tablets and the water, which you down in record time, somehow still parched after.

"Mmm."

"Better?"

"Ewan... do I smell pancakes?"

"Okay, so..." you mumble through a mouthful of pancake, struggling to form the words. "Tell me again, how exactly did last night go?"

Ewan chuckles, tightening his arm around you as you sit side by side on high stools by the kitchen counter. He gently nudges a glass of orange juice in your direction, already anticipating your needs. "You really want the full recap?" he teases, brushing a crumb off your cheek.

"Yes, hubby," you reply, grinning despite your headache. It’s part of your little game—Husband and Wife for a Day—a title you both use when one of you is down for the count, the other taking on the doting spouse role with unwavering commitment. This morning, Ewan's all-in: he's made breakfast (dinner, really), restocked your aspirin supply, and even personally carried you from your bedroom to the kitchen.

"Alright, ducky." He leans in, resting his chin on his hand as if he’s settling in for a long story. "Last night, you insisted that you could outdrink Rhys, and wouldn’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. "Please tell me I won, at least."

"Well... you didn't," he laughs, rubbing your back. "But it was brilliant. And when you got tired, guess who carried you back here?"

You peek at him through your fingers, feigning a scowl. "Fine, I admit it. You make a pretty solid husband."

He leans back, feigning deep offense. "Pretty solid? You wound me," he says with mock drama, hand on his heart. "You should be singing my praises."

"Oh, should I?" you counter, grinning despite yourself.

Ewan's smile softens as he leans in, close enough that his voice drops to a gentle, teasing murmur. "You should. After all, it is a husband's job to make sure his wife is fully taken care of. Right?" His thumb lightly traces a path along your shoulder, sending a shiver up your spine.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore the quickening beat of your heart as you hold his gaze. This is just part of the game, you remind yourself. "Fully taken care of?" you echo, barely able to hide your grin.

He nods, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, satisfied. I wouldn't want to leave any duties… unfinished," he says, the last word thick with implication.

For a moment, the teasing fades, replaced by a warmth that's both familiar and exhilarating. Ewan's gaze holds yours, a silent invitation sparking in his smile.

You lean in playfully, a teasing smile dancing on your lips as you aim for a quick kiss on Ewan's cheek. But just as you're about to close the distance, he unexpectedly turns his head. In an instant, your lips meet his—slightly chapped yet soft all the same, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than intended.

Ewan freezes, his eyes widening slightly, and you both pull back simultaneously, confusion etched on your faces.

"Wait—were we still playing the game?" he asks, his brow furrowed, as if trying to dissect the layers of what just happened.

You blink, your heart racing as you try to steady yourself and keep from simply bridging the distance and kissing him again. "Y-yes, weren't we? But then again..." You fail to sound unaffected, a nervous catch clear in your voice.

Ewan stares at you for a moment, his expression a mixture of surprise and something deeper, something that feels like realisation. "I mean, I was just… you know, being the 'husband.' But then you… actually kissed me."

"Right," you reply, mirroring his bewildered expression. "But I was... I was aiming for your cheek. You moved suddenly and—"

"Right. Right, I did move."

Silence hangs between you for a moment, both of you trying to find your footing. It feels as if the playful banter has shifted into something more serious, and yet, both of you are still processing what it all means.

"Ducky, I... I love you?" Ewan finally says, a shy smile breaking through the confusion, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

You let out an incredulous laugh at the absurdity of the moment. Did you even have a hangover? It seems as if that sensation has been effectively replaced by whatever this is. "Are you... are you asking me or—"

"I love you."

"Oh, Ewan."

"You don't have to say anything if you're not ready," he adds quickly, his confidence wavering. "I know this is sudden—"

"No, wait," you interrupt, your heart racing as you search his blue eyes. "I'm not not ready. I've just… I didn't expect you to say that now.

"And... I love you too. I always have."

His expression shifts from uncertainty to pure elation, and without another word, he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It's deep and raw and passionate, igniting a spark you both had tried to ignore. The world around you fades away, leaving only the heat between you, the soft press of his body against yours.

When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you catching your breath. "Fuckin' hell," he murmurs, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "That's a much better reaction than I was expecting."

You smirk, feeling the thrill of the moment course through you. "Well, consider me impressed. But I think we might need to up the ante here, hubby."

"Is that a challenge, baby?"he asks, his voice dropping an octave, filled with a promise that sends a thrill through you.

"Maybe," you tease, your heart racing as you lean closer, letting your lips barely brush against his. "I just want to see how far you're willing to go to prove you’re worthy of this title."

Ewan's gaze darkens with desire, and he moves even closer, his hands finding your waist, coaxing you to sit on top of his thighs. "You have no idea how far I'd go for you," he murmurs thickly.

Your breath hitches as you feel the heat radiating from his body. "Oh really? Care to show me?"

"Absolutely," he replies, his lips colliding with yours in a fervent embrace, his hands traversing your sides in a way that betrays the insatiable hunger he feels.

Your last remaining shred of restraint peeks through, and you push him back slightly, your eyes locking onto his. "Are you sure about this? I mean, this isn't just a game anymore."

"I'm sure," he replies, his expression nothing if not determined. "This is what I want, ducky. All of you."

You can't help but smile at the sincerity in his voice, but a playful challenge flickers in your eyes. "Then you better prove it. I want you to take care of me, just like you promised."

Ewan's lips curl into a devilish smirk. "Oh, I intend to. You just wait."

With that, he leans in again, kissing you with an intensity that makes your knees weak. His hands explore your hips, fingers teasing the hem of your shirt, and you shiver at the roughness of his hands. You respond eagerly, your fingers tangling in his dark blonde tresses as you deepen the kiss.

Suddenly, Ewan pulls back, breathless, his pupils shot black, and his lips slick from you. "How about we take this to a more… proper setting?" he suggests.

"Lead the way," you whisper, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

Once inside your bedroom, Ewan turns to you, his gaze smoldering as he closes the door behind him. "Are you ready, baby?" he asks, a query of both of lust and sincerity.

"What are you waiting for?" you reply, reclaiming the space between you, and kiss him again.

"Oh, my heart,” he murmurs between kisses, his lips trailing along your jawline. "Now you'll get to experience what it really means to be Mrs. Ewan Mitchell."

[celestialflamesme]

| KITTENS, SQUIRRELS AND MY HOT NEIGHBOUR | A Rorin One-shot | Fairy Tail Next Generation |

Ship: Rosemary Fernandez x Rin Fullbuster

Rosemary was mortified to say she had seen it all.

And by that, she meant ALL.

She thought moving to Magnolia away from her strict family would benefit her, expand her views on the world.

Expand her views, oh dear Lord.

Moving day was uneventful at the beginning. She finished arranging most of the furniture by noon on her own, adamant to hire help. Now all that remained was additional decor, the dishes and fitting her clothes in the closet. The pretty red-head decided to eat out for lunch and had only stepped out her porch when she gazed upon the finest specimen mankind had to offer.

His windswept blue hair made her swoon internally as he appeared to have returned from a jog. And those pectorals.... her eyes glazed over as she checked him out.

He just pursed his lips, gahhhh!

Gosh, run your hand over your hair one more time and I might jump you.

Her internal tirade was interrupted by her stomach. It growled. And by growled she meant growled like a whale in heat. And by that she meant hot guy just heard her stomach growling. And by that-

Okay, we get the point.

She straightened her posture and tried to look intimidating as she took long strides toward him and stood on her tiptoes (so much for intimidating). She reached out a hand toward him in lieu of a greeting.

And he grimaced at her as if she was the piece gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

Wow, great first impression dude! I almost want to be your neighbour. Not.

"And staring at your neighbour like a creepy stalker is? A great first impression, that is, since you seem to know all about those." He pointed.

She'd said it out loud then. She kicked herself and winced, making the hot jerk wary of her sanity.

Like he had reason to be! Ridiculous! She was only talking to herself! It wasn't as if- WHAT IN THE

"WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?!!!!" She yelled, horrorstruck.

His eyes widened as he looked at his- well, lack of covering- and cursed under his breath.

"DON'T LOOK!"

But it was too late.

Too late.

The whole day she spent bemoaning the loss of her innocence. (Who was she kidding, she secretly enjoyed it. Just because she was a Bio major. Nothing more. And now she stopped making sense. Again. Ughhh.)

Needless to say, their blossoming friendship (or relationship??) had been nipped at the bud. He now avoided her like the plague (it wasn't like she'd flashed him!!) but she swore sometimes she'd catch him staring at her.

But the truth remained that she'd mucked up her chance at making new friends at the first try.

Hey, at least she had Ricardo, the extremely stupid squirrel living on the acacia tree in her backyard.

Well, on second thought, she thought as she saw him try to woo the woodpecker on her tree for the 978th time this month (take a hint, Ricardo!) maybe he wasn't the best choice of companionship.

I'm gonna end up a cat lady, aren't I? Her shoulders drooped as she stared at the tree vacantly. Maybe moving out wasn't one of her best ideas...

...................

Maybe it was the internal Erza in her berating her for wallowing in her self pity, or that she'd realised she and Ricardo had more in common than she thought. Either way, the next day she'd adopted a bunch of kittens.

Yes, you heard it right.

And she wondered why she hadn't done this sooner.

Mayonnaise, Guacamole and Nacho. The little balls of fur were adorkable, as was expected of cuddly little munchkins, and fawning over them did wonders to her self esteem.

The kicker however, happened a week after.

She groaned loudly as she struggled to get out of bed and stumble to the door, her fluffy slippers in hand. She put them on as she wobbled down the stairs and rubbed her eyes of any pending sleep. Who was the fucktard that dared disturb her sleep at bloody 8 in the morning on A WEEKEND?! She grabbed her baseball bat as she opened the door.

"WHAT?" She growled at- wait that's a chest... She glanced up and met the eyes of her very amused neighbour.

Now that she thought about it, she must've looked like quite the escaped convict with her neon orange pajamas-don't ask, a gift from her annoying friend Nashi- and bedhead. He must've finally noticed the fluffy bunny slippers because he suddenly doubled over, banging the doorframe with one hand as he let out one of the most adorable laughs she'd ever heard (he sounded like a dying llama actually, but sureee, whatever you say brain)

When he'd finally stopped laughing, (which was an embarrassingly long time later) he leaned against the doorframe-Oh good God -and shot her a gorgeous megawatt grin that had her squinting in suspicion.

"I heard you adopted kittens."

She blinked at him, "And you come here at frigging 8 on a weekend to state the obvious?"

"Well, not exactly," he chirped, the subtle quirk of his lips proving he knew how much he was irking her,"I want to meet 'em. Please?"

5 minutes later, Rosemary found herself making breakfast as her hot neighbour cooed (I kid you not, cooed) at her kittens as she also simultaneously managed to convince herself she allowed it only because he asked nicely. No doubt about that.

"What are their names?" He asked as he scratched Nacho behind his ear.

"Mayonnaise, Guacamole and Nacho."

"I'm sorry, what?" He spluttered, making Rosemary shuffle her feet partly out of embarrassment and partly out of defensiveness.

"What's wrong with those names?" She threatened with her red hot spatula pointed at his neck. He raised his hands and gulped.

"No complaints, ma'am!"

She turned to flip the pancakes. "That's better."

"Hey, I'm-uh Rin. Rin Fullbuster," he said as if he'd just remembered to introduce himself.

She smiled to herself as she flipped another pancake. "Rosemary Fernández."

"Hey, I LOVE ROSEMARY!" He cheered obliviously.

Rosemary choked as she whipped her head toward him so hard it cracked. She accidentally touched the hot pan and let out a yelp of pain. His eyes widened as he realised the implications of his statement.

"I meant the-Gah- the plant, I mean-Ah fuck, your hand!"

13 minutes and one burnt pancake later, Rosemary had learnt quite a bit about Rin.

For instance, he nonchalantly mentioned that he was studying medicine as he treated her hand without batting an eye. He also said that he lived with his twin sister Sylvia and had an elder brother.

His eyes flickered as he blurted, "Can I treat you to dinner? How does um-tonight sound? Yeah tonight," he looked her in the eyes with so much enthusiasm she might've melted if her palm hadn't been so severely burnt.

Her eyes crinkled as she nodded in agreement, "Sure, I'd love that!"

Bonus:

"So you're telling me that Ricardo should've be getting his hopes up over the woodpecker even when she lets him stay in her hole and even eats from the same tree as him?" Rin raised an eyebrow at the red-head who scrunched her forehead.

"That doesn't have to mean anything. Maybe she just wants to be friends!" She gestured unbelievingly.

"What? That doesn't make sense! Of course there's something else! You don't just share your food with friends! That's the equivalent of going out in the animal world!" Rin blinked at her as if she was the one sputtering nonsense.

"No it isn't! You can go out for dinner platonically too!"

He frowned. "I can prove it!"

Rosemary tilted her head to look at him, "How?"

"We've been going out to dinner for 2 months now. Does this mean that we're just friends?"

"Um yeah! We are? How is this proving the point?"

Rin stared at her like she'd grown two heads and yelped, "WAIT YOU'RE SERIOUS?!"

Rosemary flushed, "Well, yes. I didn't know you were interested in uh-You like me? That way?"

Rin looked like he'd been living a lie as he squeaked, "UH- YES! I DO! LIKE YOU! And here literally everyone was calling me whipped and telling me how obvious I was being, but haha!"

He suddenly whipped his head in her direction like a man possessed. " YOU LIKE ME TOO, RIGHT? SHIT, DO YOU? I MEAN I DON'T WANT TO FORCE YOU OR-"

"I DO! I DO! I mean I've never really thought you liked me Ughhh you know what? Fuck this."

She tugged on his shirt as her lips met his and all was forgotten.

Though, Rin never hesitated to tease her and her obliviousness at every given opportunity. She didn't mind.

She had her blue-haired squirrel of a neighbour in the end anyway.

............

[longsightmyth]

any advice for describing clothes without getting too technical or bland? like fantasy clothes? I have all these dresses in my head and then i write it and its like "she wore a blue dress." ughhh

You’re in luck because if you had asked me this before I started Shatterglass I would have said ‘idk friend good luck.’

I HAVE written quite a bit of Shatterglass now, though, and people seem to like the writing from a dressmaker’s PoV, so here, have some examples and then I’ll try to summarize my best tips.

Philippa’s livery:

She wore palace livery like a second skin, even though her red hair clashed with the red panels on her black dress. She had a little bit of embroidery around her hem and collar, which Lillian knew meant the woman was of relative importance in palace servant hierarchy.

Lillian’s first ‘new’ dress:

High necks had been out of fashion longer than Lillian had been in Endovier, though. Philippa, Elaine, Gytha, and Sara had contrived a lacy insert that hid Lillian’s chest and neck nearly to her chin.

“Oh,” Gytha said when they had finished. Sara bit her lip and Philippa sighed, but Elaine looked smug.

She had a right to be, if the lace had been her idea. It didn’t look at all like Lillian was trying to cover anything up: if anything, it looked as if Lillian was trying to get people to look closer. The lace was more a wink and a nudge at modesty. You couldn’t see anything, not really, but it looked as if you should try .

Lillian nodded as she examined herself in the mirror. “I think it will go well with a corset, for the shape,” she said, shifting for a side view. “And I like the color.”

The soft blue-green let her coloring stand out, lending her eyes a greenish cast and heightening the little bit of color she’d gotten from riding for three weeks without a hat.

Nehemia and Kaltain’s first appearances:

She considered leaving, but she was caught by the dresses the two women wore. One wore a deep, bright blue, cut close to emphasize a slim waist but, to Lillian’s surprise, as high-necked as Lillian’s first dress. The neck wasn’t lace on this one, though, just more gleaming fabric. The seams came in from under the arms, Lillian noted with interest, and ran down her front, emphasized with golden embroidery that in turn emphasized a bosom Lillian might have been jealous of before Endovier. The seams and embroidery continued down the full skirt to a wide strip of lighter brocade around the hem.  The color showed off how pale she was, which made the pitch black hair she sported shocking. Lillian approved, though she thought she could have made the dress fit even better. The waist did manage to show off the woman’s slenderness, but Lillian thought it should have been just a touch lower.

The other woman had much darker skin and curls twisted into ringlets down her back and forehead, with what might have been actual gold dust sprinkled through it. She was shorter than the other woman, with a larger waist and hips. Her dress was red, as deep and vivid as the other woman’s blue, with no brocade but more embroidery. It looked almost like it had been wrapped around her, the edges of the embroidery peeking in and out until it spun out from her hips in wavy lines. It left her arms free, and though the neckline didn’t go all the way up to the chin it still covered her collarbone, the way the skirts moved suggested you might catch a glimpse of leg if you looked hard enough.

Garden party dress:

Elaine had outdone herself. Instead of a lace insert, a warm ivory lace overlay went from near-solid at the neck to increasingly more loosely tatted until it became uneven near the hem, like flower petals. Under it, the burnt orange color of the gown itself was slowly revealed. Lillian didn’t have to worry about going barefoot this time: even fashion bowed to the possibility of getting noblewomen’s feet covered in dirt from the gardens. Her slippers matched the underdress exactly.

And I’m going to toss Roland’s Banquet Look in here so I can have a dude:

Roland stood surrounded by a group of younger noble sons, laughing loudly in a shade of green-blue just different enough from the greens in the garden to let him stand out. His shirt was white, but he hadn’t quite edged into the royal prerogative - his trousers and perfectly shined knee-high boots were black. He let his hair, as golden as Lillian’s but much straighter, gleam free to his shoulders instead of wearing any jewelry.

Your level of detail is going to vary depending on situation and PoV. Lillian notices all of these details because she is a dressmaker turned assassin and thus trained in every sense of the word to notice details, specifically details like these. When we get to Celaena’s PoV she’ll notice details but different ones, like how many knives somebody could be hiding (though admittedly Lillian can spot a knife at fifty paces these days) or old-fashioned fashions from Terrasen, or maybe think more about how protective or not a particular fashion is.

Dorian wouldn’t notice fashion except how it indicated status (he Will Notice anybody wearing white or anybody wearing crowns or crownlike accouterments). Chaol would notice, again, people who might be hiding weaponry, and also that Lillian looks nice in blue.  

Basically you pick and choose your details. Someone who isn’t fashion conscious might just call it a blue dress, but they might also, depending on background, notice how expensive the fabric is or that the skirt is cut for easy movement. 

If you want GENERAL descriptive advice, the best I’ve got is to use comparisons to your advantage. It makes your descriptions do double duty and makes it sound a little more natural if you’re writing from somebody’s PoV, third or first or even, yes, second.

Hope that was helpful!

[musicalluna]

I got really sick this afternoon, could i maybe have something with Tony Stark being sick, and trying to hide it? And someone takes care of him?

i’m sorry you don’t feel well! i hope this helps

–

Tony pulls onRhodey’s air force hoodie when he crawls out of bed at eleven.

He’s grateful it’sSaturday because that means he doesn’t have to try and piss Pepperoff in a sentence or less so she doesn’t realize he’s sick.

Miserably, horriblysick.

His chest aches andhis lungs feel like they’re filled with wet cotton and his head isthrobbing—he’s had hangovers that felt better than this.

At the bedroom door,he pauses a minute to put his head against the wood and moan tohimself, “Ughhh, whyyy.”

Then he sniffles andsmacks his cheeks a little to try and make himself look less likedeath warmed over. He’s forty-three and he’s not about to let histeammates see him as the old man just because the only one older thanhim is Banner. And Thor, technically. Whatever.

The point is, he’snot old and he’s not sick and no one can tell him otherwise.

He takes a deepbreath and then stands there hacking for another three minutes.

Finally, when hisbreathing has faded to just a slight wheeze, he opens the door andheads for the kitchen.

He hears voices ashe approaches, so he picks up the pace and lifts his head, eventhough it sucks the energy out of him almost instantly. Shouldersback, he strides into the kitchen and makes a beeline for thecoffeepot without looking around.

Still, he seesSteve’s broad back at the stove from the corner of his eye and hearsClint explaining what the Muppets are, so Thor must be here too.

Blessedly, when hereaches the coffeepot, it’s full, and hot, and thank you.He quickly fills a mug, ignoring how his arm shakes from the exertion(ha!) of holding the full pot. Then he lifts the mug up to his face,steam curling around his cheeks and softening the lump of gunk in hishead so that it aches ever-so-slightly less.

Hegroans a little and then starts when Thor calls, “Coffee is good,is it not?”

“Ow,shit,” he hisses, when some of the liquid slops over the edge.

“Idid not mean to startle you! Are you injured?”

“No,I’m fine,” Tony blurts, forgetting he sounds like he’s beengargling battery acid. Fortunately, no one mentions it, so maybe it’snot that noticeable.

Hetakes a sip of the coffee and grimaces. It tastes awful. Damn coldsruin everything.

He’lldrink it anyway.

“Havea seat, Tony,” Steve says, “I’m just about done with the eggs andbacon.”

“Hetried French toast and he burnt it all,” Clint confides with acheerful sort of evil glee.

Steveglares and Tony can’t help but smile.

“Sure, why not,” he says and gratefully sinks onto one of the chairs atthe counter.

Thorgives him an entirely too-knowing look, but instead of the questionTony’s bracing for, he says, “Do you know of these Muppets Clintspeaks of?”

“Uhhuh, sure,” Tony says and tries not to cradle his coffee toolovingly.

“Whowas your favorite?” Clint asks.

“Rizzo,”Tony answers immediately, because it’s what people would expect himto say.

Clintsnorts. “No, it wasn’t. Who was it really?”

Tonyfeels a little weird about Clint catching him out in that lie soeasily, but it’s too hard to think and he can’t muster up the energyto get worked up about it. “Kermit,” he admits.

“Thefrog!” Thor says, obviously pleased that he recognizes what Tony’stalking about.

“Yeah.”Tony hides his smile with another sip of vile coffee. “Ihated Sam the Eagle,” he adds absently.  Clint gives him a lookthat says go on. Heshrugs. “He reminded me of Captain America.”

There’sa very awkward silence and that’s when Tony’s brain catches up withhis mouth. He sips his coffeeaggressively, horrified.

“Well,”Steve finally says, shooting a crooked smile over his shoulder,“hopefully you like Steve a little better.”

Itsounds like a question and Tony’s clearly lost control of hisfaculties because he says, “Yeah, Steve’s okay. Captain America’s areal asshole though.”

He’swildly relieved when Steve laughs.

“Gladto hear it. Breakfast’s done.”

Clintleans up on his barstool to peer across the way. “How much of it’sburnt?”

“Onlyabout twelve percent,” Steve says with a sly look at Tony.

Tonygroans. “She told you about that. When will that woman let melive.” He glareshalfheartedly at Steve as he sets a plate down in front of him. “Icould amend my opinion of Steve, you know.”

Stevegrins. “Eat your breakfast.”

Whenhe looks down, Tony’s surprised to find there are two orange gelcapsules on his plate along with the un-burnt looking food.

When—how?

Finally,he decides not to question it and surreptitiously pops them in hismouth, swallowing them down with another mouthful of unpleasantcoffee. He nibbles at thefood after that, but it doesn’t sit well in his stomach.

Histemperature must be spiking again because his head feels like it’sfull of air and he’s shivering even though it feels like he couldheat the eggs Steve gave him back up on his face.

Hestartles when Thor drapes a furry blanket across Tony’s lap. “Feelthis,” he commands.

Tonyworks his fingers free of his cold coffee mug and reaches down to petthe fur. He hears himself make a quiet noise in his throat when hetouches it. It’s thick and incredibly soft.

“Muchbetter than your ‘fleece’, is it not?”

“I’llsay,” Tony murmurs, slowly clenching his hands around fistfuls ofit. It’s also warm.“’s nice.”

Belatedly,Tony realizes Thor has left the blanket on Tony’s lap and he doesn’tappear to have any intention of retrieving it.

They knew,the functioning part of his brain realizes. They knew andthey didn’t make a fuss.

He’sa little embarrassed that he tried so hard for nothing, but it’seclipsed by the warm rush he feels at the fact that they’re quietlytaking care of him.

“Thanks,”he blurts, staring down at his plate and hoping they know what hereally means.

Thor’sbig, hot hand settles over the back of his neck and Tony’s eyes slip closed at how good it feels. “You need not thank us,” he murmurs. “Weare your comrades and it is only right.”

Tonygiggles mentally. I have comrades.

[collectedbadhabits]

I'm on my phone just answer em all 😚

lmao thanks

iridescent: what is your skincare routine?I wash my face with a basic sensitive skin First Aid cleanser and then do masks when my pores are HUGE but thats it besides moisturizer after I shower and before I wear make up. I sometimes remember to put on eye cream and my hydrating serum but not that often..

snow: do you have a garden?No, I have a tiny half dead succulent and cute lil cactus.

sunflower: have you always lived where you do now?I have lived in this house since I was 8, been in the basement since I was 21?

heaven: favorite color combinations?Ughhh I love gold with most colors, like gold and teal, gold and burnt orange, but I also love pink and purple and I love all the combos that my hair has been besides that weird blonde/magenta moment from 2016.

strawberry: do you wear makeup?When I have the time and effort.

butterfly: favorite ice cream flavor?Mint chocolate chip 5ever. But also several B&J flavors that I don’t remember the names of off the top pf my head.

fairy: what type of museum is your favorite?I love history museums.

crystal: what is your birthstone?Topaz

dreamy: is there any snow where you live?There is way too fucking much. Not at this moment...but I bet it’ll happen again.

bubblegum: favorite cities?Providence, Boston, Dublin..I’d probably like NY but I haven’t been since I was 13.

tea: favorite films?Ughhhh I don’t know I’m not a movie person.

bumblebee: who are people that you look up to?Some of my friends, and my aunt, I guess.

cloud: favorite thing to learn about in school?Relatable comm theories.

starry: have you ever seen a psychic?Nah, do I wanna know? I don’t think so.

glitter: do you enjoy staying in hotels?I love the fluffy pillows and the comfy mattresses and the excellent shower heads. And the marble bathtub at the Shelbourne.

luxury: favorite designer?Dude idk lol check my dress tag

sunrise: favorite musical artists?Ummm Fob, chvrches, paramore, tbs, lorde, bleachers, pvris, andrew mcmahon, idk thats just what I’ve been listening to this month.

halo: what is your star sign?I’m a Scorpiooooooo.

sweetheart: have you ever been in love?Unfortunately. 

cashmere: do you scare easily?Yes lol 

[lost-in-the-stars-nitw]

Lost in the Stars (NITW Fanfic)

This is part 2 of Lost in the Stars.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GnitGNQnrrqPBn09jUeyKUZURMenKTh9suu9e0dQ5VQ/edit?usp=sharing

A fan fiction that takes place after the events of Night in the Woods. It has original charters and hopefully what people consider to be ok writing.  I plan on continuing to update this as time goes on. I’ve been working on this for a while and I hope you all enjoy it.

SERREEEREEEEEEE. FALLING AND FALLING AND BURNING AND SKY AND FALLING-

 Jon bolted awake, gasping for the air his nightmares had somehow torn from him, his gaze searching wildly around the unfamiliar room as his extended claws clutched the thin blue blanket to his chest. The sudden rush of fear making his fur stand on end making the cat look less like a cat and more like a giant ball of fluff. 'Where the hel- oh, oh yeah maple drive, new house.’' Realization dawned quickly, this was the new place, he was safe so was everyone else. He wasn’t falling down a black pit he was laying on an air mattress. His fur settled and claws retracted. He let to blanket drop and groaned as he rose to his feet to survey the room in detail, he had only seen it once before and didn't seem to recall much of little he saw last night. It seemed different from when the realtor had shown him it 3 months ago, ‘What was it?’ The room was barren except for the few belongings Jon had thrown in corner. Four white walls broken by a set of sliding closet doors, the door out to the hall behind him, and a window that acted as the only light source. A dim predawn light trickled in through the panes illuminating the few belonging Jon had brought in the night before. The air mattress in the middle of the room with a small black electric air pump nearby, a brown and tan canvas satchel laying in a heap with a white “The Sky Paints Me Anew” shirt and his black fabric jacket made of an almost denim material that was well worn and patched on the elbows. 'Ol reliable, a classic.' Jon rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he put on the clothing and picked up his bag from the dusty hardwood floor, pausing to crouch down and to re-lace the black combat style boots he had worn to sleep. Jon stuck his head out the doorway and into the nearly pitch-black hallway, ears flicking.

‘No one must be awake, it's too quiet for those animals to not be asleep.’ Jon gave a look up and down the hall, before heading down the stairs to his right and into the living room. ‘Well “Living Room” is a bit of a stretch to be honest.’ The dim room was carpeted in a deep brown. ‘Heh, I bet if I laid down of this carpet naked and closed my eyes it would be perfect camo. No one would be able to tell where the floor ends and I begin. Hidden cat.’ The walls were the same white as the rest of the house, with an opening to the dining room to Jon’s left and a large window as well as the front door to his right. The only other things in the room where a large limestone fireplace on the wall opposite of him and Danny curled up, asleep, on top of Veronica’s kick drum dead center of the room. Dan laid curled in his thin sweater and black pressed pants, silver chain dangling from his side to his back pocket. The same outfit he always wore. Not like anyone in the band had more than one outfit anyway. Jon took notice of his bare feet. ‘Took off his shoes though, loves those shoes more than I care to think. He probably smooches ‘em when we aren’t around.’  A pair of black dress shoes were laid neatly to the side of the drum near the sleeping dog.

Jon wandered into the quote on quote “cozy” kitchen. It was cramped and old to be frank. The cupboards and walls were painted a ‘lovely’ burnt orange with large lime green polka dots. ‘It's like living in the cover of Mom’s old records. Bleh, one hundo percent repainting this room.’ A small somewhat new stove, and a light-blue refrigerator that looked like it fell out of an art deco piece, sat tucked amongst the cupboards and counter space.

“Damn, that’s an old ass fridge!” Jon exclaimed with surprise before opening the ancient tomb to, unsurprisingly, find it empty.

Shrugging, he hopped onto the counter removing a thin metal laptop from his satchel. With the click of a button the screen popped to life, illuminating half the kitchen in a bright clinical light. ‘UGHHH! Why is the brightness so high?’ After adjusting Jon glanced at the corner of the screen under the bobbing mascot of Tophat Computing. 5:22 A.M. ‘Five hours of sleep huh? No wonder why I feel like a hot pile of garbage.’ 5/14/2018. 472 notifications form group chatterboxes. 3 notifications from personal chatters. 14 unread emails. ‘Oh boy can’t wait to see what new threats I’ve got from good ol Benson. Debt collectors are such assholes.’ Jon clicked and scrolled through the chatterbox group chat labeled “Lost In The Stars. r/general” ‘Ehh, mostly questioning why we didn’t stream last night. A few people bitching about the upload schedule, of course. Some new donation messages. Cool. I’ll let TJ deal with the group chat.’ Jon closed the window and clicked on the email notifications, sure enough more threatening emails. He clicked on one randomly and replied. “You’re getting your money asshole, I’m already caught up on payments quit threatening me. I know you don’t have legal right to any of my shit. All in all, hope you are doing well Benson, please go choke on a hot pile of ass. -Jonathan C. Malloney.”

“That’s done.” Jon muttered, closing and stuffing the laptop back into his bag before hopping off the counter top. He let out a sigh as a special thought creeped into to his mind for the countless-th time in his life. ‘Well now what? I should be doing something but what?’  His paw reached for the crumpled pack of Camel 45-s and his lighter out of instinct. He lit the cigarette and took a deep drag before sighing out a grey cloud of nicotine and stress. ‘We need furniture… and food… and let me guess.’ Jon reached out and flipped the light switch above the sink. ‘Yup, need lightbulbs too, probably for the whole damn place.’ He ran a paw through his rat’s nest that people called “hair”, taking another long draw from the 45. ‘I still need to go over to that realtor’s office and make sure that the rental request went through. Fuck… That’s a whole other can of worms to deal with, but we need a place to record and stream that isn’t where we live. I still need to call the city council about renting out that old party barn. Oh yeah, we also need to get a phone. Yeah that’s somewhat important.’  Jon took a moment to shake himself out of his own head, he was pacing at this point arms crossed and holding his lit cigarette in his right hand. He sneered and the smoldering vice perched between his fuzzy fingers. ’I really ought to stop smoking these, they’ll kill me someday… but that day isn’t today.... You are clearly stressing yourself waaay out Jon, just focus. Today will be food and light bulbs. Get food and light bulbs and today will be a success. Food, lightbulbs, success.’

Jon stepped out of the kitchen and back into the desolate living room. ‘I read that there was a Food Donkey and some kind of hardware store in town. I’ll try and track those down, I guess. Not like they’ll be open at 5 in the morning, but hey why not?’ Jon scowled at nothing in particular as he made his way through the nearly lifeless living room and out the front door.