#(he's gonna have a nasty infection later ._.)

[https-florals]

thought that i was dreaming when you said you loved me - j.m.

summary: if there was a contest for the world’s stupidest teenagers, you and jj would take first place.

word count: 3.1k??? i got a little carried away

warnings: a little language. 

a/n: childhood best friends to lovers, a little argument, tiniest bit of angst. WHOLEEE lotta fluff. reading it back, im starting to wonder if it really flows together or if it even makes sense, but i think its cute and i liked writing it!! as always, likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. i adore you all!!

“Can I crash at your place tonight?” JJ blurts out the question, almost like he’s scared of the answer.

The two of you are headed away from a long day of surfing, your hair tangled and a little crunchy from the saltwater. You probably would have stayed out later, if it weren’t for how nasty the waves were getting. JJ had gotten pushed under and scraped against a reef, and you had slipped and landed facefirst into the side of your board, both of your accidents resulting in some pretty nasty cuts. Some old 2000s playlist is playing through the aux, and you’re driving while JJ holds a can of beer to your busted lip. 

“Or..” he swallows. “Maybe until your parents get back? They’re outta town for like another three days, right?

You give him a sidelong glance and push the can away, your lip numb from the coldness. JJ isn’t the type to ask favors, so you’re a little taken aback. You don’t ask questions though; you just nod. “Yeah, that’s fine.” You pause, and then grin, saying, “You scared my daddy would run you off with a shotgun if he was home?”

He huffs and shoves the corner of a towel into your face. “Your lip’s bleeding again, dumbass. And no. He just scares me a little.”

Swatting him away and laughing, you go back to the subject of him staying at your house. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can stay as long as you need. Plus, that gives me a chance to make sure you don’t let those cuts get infected.” You gesture to the raw skin on his torso. 

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” he scoffs, but the way he runs his hand over his side and winces isn’t lost on you. 

By the time you pull into your driveway, it’s started to rain. Beams from the sunset hit the droplets just perfectly, and a rainbow stretches over the cut. It’s so pretty, and if your neck wasn’t so sore and if JJ wasn’t so cut up you would’ve taken the opportunity to pull him out in the rain and force him to dance with you. But he is trying to pick up the cooler and the towels and take it all inside himself, so you run around to the trunk and nudge him away. “Stop! Just grab the towels, you’re too bruised up to lift that.” Wedging yourself between him and the trunk, you set the cooler down on the gravel.

“C’mon,” he sighs, saying your name entreatingly. “No bruise is gonna mess with these.” JJ flexes and grins, and you glare at him.

“Never do that again. If you want to keep me as a friend, you will never flex in front of me again.” You’re only half-joking.

He fake-yawns and stretches, making sure to flex again when you look back up at him. “I know, you can’t even stand to be around a sex god like me.”

You look at him, jaw dropped in faux horror, and shake your head. “That’s it. Maybank, you can go stay at the Chateau.”

“I’ll tell John B you just couldn’t keep your hands off me,” he teases, leaning against you and making kissy noises into your ear.

You are giggling between fake gags, pushing him away gently. “Get your shit and go inside, freak,” you laugh as you tug the cooler into the garage.

Kicking your sandals off by the door,you grab some antibacterial soap, and then check under the sink for peroxide and bandages. 

When JJ comes inside, you’re diluting a little cup of the peroxide with water. Pushing that and the soap towards him, you say, “Go shower and flush the cuts out with that-” you tap the cup- “then scrub with the soap. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but it’ll get worse if it gets infected.”

He frowns, and takes them. “Okay, nurse.”

You both take fast showers, and soon the two of you are back in the living room. You’re wearing borrowed boxers and a big tshirt, and JJ has on the clothes he left last time he came over. Your mother always insists on doing your friends’ laundry, and thank God she does. 

“Sit on the couch,” you instruct JJ, pouring some antiseptic onto cotton pads.

“I can do it myself,” he huffs, but he doesn’t make any more complaints when you climb over him and straddle one of his legs. In fact, he’s staring at you with a kind of awe in his expression. 

“Lift your shirt up,” you command, looking at him with a stony expression.

He rolls his eyes, but obeys, hands a little shaky as he pulls up the fabric and you begin to clean the wound.

JJ hisses at the stinging, his muscles contracting and shifting under your fingertips.

You shush him and readjust so you’re sitting a little higher on his thigh rather than his knee. “Breathe, JJ.” Mentally, you’re telling yourself to breathe too. You’re just helping your best friend. Your heart shouldn’t be racing like it is.

One of his hands balls into a fist, and the other lands on your waist, grasping the worn fabric of your tee. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his lips are parted as he tilts his head back and groans.

You’re shameless in the way you’re staring at him. Maybe you shouldn’t find him in pain so very attractive, but- you’re just observing. You’re not even paying attention to what you're doing anymore as you wipe the cotton haphazardly over his cuts; you just watch the way his jaw tenses and relaxes. He opens one eye, and you jump slightly, heat infusing into your cheeks.

“Distracted?” he teases.

You scoff in response, bandaging up his cuts and climbing off of him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

JJ doesn’t press it any further; he just smirks and leans back onto the couch.

It’s getting late, the cloudy sky turning deep, dusky amber with the setting sun. It’s still raining, harder now, and JJ has the weatherman on TV as you throw together a quick dinner. It’s a three course meal of pizza pockets, some sliced up cucumber and ranch, and a pack of oreos split between the two of you. After some bickering, you settle on a movie to watch together. It’s some old rom-com JJ is obsessed with it, and you have never even heard of it. 

You’re still whining through the first twenty minutes; saying, “A Christmas movie? It’s not even Christmas!”

He shushes you, putting his arm around your shoulders and giving you a playful thump on the head. “It’s got John Cusack in it. Everybody loves John Cusack.”

Sure enough, by the end of Serendipity, you decide you love John Cusack. “I feel a little bad for his fiancée,” you yawn, slumped against the blond boy beside you. There’s no point where you aren’t touching: shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. “I still don’t understand why he’d just leave her.”

You do understand actually, but you would listen to JJ explain the plot a thousand times if it meant you could stay this close. His hand is on your shoulder, fingers playing with the collar of your t-shirt as he talks about fate. It’s a little poetic, in fact, it’s the most serious you’ve heard him in a while.

“The whole idea about having someone destined for you is just really beautiful, you know. Like someone out there is supposed to love you no matter what. Like, the universe doesn’t give a shit about what you’ve done or where you come from. It’s just in total agreement that you deserve to be loved.”

You’re resting your head on his bicep, watching his expressions as he talks. His blue eyes are like lights across the water, his mouth serious. 

“That just seems so… I dunno, fair. Like that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“J, you know that the universe doesn’t have a say in whether or not you’re worthy of love, right?”

He’s a bit caught off guard, looking you in the eyes now. “What?”

You adjust so you're facing him, legs criss-crossed on the couch. Hands in your lap, you wring your fingers as you begin to speak. “I just want to make sure that you know you…” you pause, and breathe. “You’re worthy of love, JJ. Destiny doesn’t determine that.”

His gaze softens for a split second, and he unconsciously rubs his side, the one bruised. But, then the mask is back up quicker than you can snap. He scoffs, moving his arm away from where you're leaning against it. “I know that. None of the Pogues are getting more love than me,” he smirks, but its a little half-hearted. 

“I’m serious, JJ. I’’n not talking about fucking around,” you sigh. 

He says your name a little rough, a little annoyed. A plea for you to stop. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have with you. Especially not right now. “Don’t start with the mushy shit,” he coaxes, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

You stand up, your temper a little hotter. “It’s not mushy shit! It’s the truth, and I’m not gonna sit here while you feel sorry for yourself, acting like you don’t deserve every single good thing.”

“I’m not acting sorry for myself!”

You’re on a roll now, and JJ can’t stop you now. “You so are! You won’t let anyone get close, cause you’re so scared that they’re gonna hurt you.”

He stands up quick, almost knocking you back. You stare up at him, his face a mere handbreadth away, but you don’t back down. “I’m not gonna bet on a race that I know I’m gonna lose,” he says, voice low.

“Love isn’t- it’s not- you can’t win if you’re more afraid of losing!” You’re not even sure if you’re making sense at this point. You don’t really know what sparked this little flame in you. Maybe it’s your PMS, or maybe it’s the rain making you antsy.. Maybe it’s the years or worrying, all the times he has done something reckless and stupid and kept you and your friends up all night. Maybe it’s the blatant disregard for his own wellbeing, or the way he ignores your questions about new cuts or bruises. Now, everything is spilling out, in words, in tears. “You never even give it the chance!”

“It’s just not in the cards for me, okay?”

You start to hit his chest, but he grabs your wrists and holds you steady. “It’s just how it is, and I’m okay with that,” he says, trying to infuse a brightness into his voice.

You snatch your wrists away, and yank your blanket up off the couch. “I don’t know if you’re- I don’t know, blind or just plain fucking stupid.”

His eyebrows furrow as you walk away from him. “What?”

“I’m going to bed.”

He says your name quick and a little strained, but you don’t turn to look at him. You disappear down the hallway, leaving JJ to slump on the couch, alone.

It takes no more than twenty minutes for the blond to come slinking into your bedroom. JJ whispers your name as he cracks open the door, but you don’t answer. He can't tell if you’re really asleep yet, so he just slides under the covers next to you, like he used to when you were kids. You still have the same full bed, and your sheets still smell like salt water and coconut shampoo. When your breath hitches as his hand comes to rest right by your back, he knows that you’re awake. 

“Do you really think I’m stupid?”

“Yeah.” You don’t move, voice muffled against your pillow. 

JJ lays parallel to you, almost painfully close, but not touching. “Come on, talk to me.”

You huff and roll over to face him. “Why aren’t you sleeping on the couch?”

“It’s scary as hell out there alone. Y’all got too many windows.”

Just like that, any animosity dissipates. “You’re supposed to be the man, JJ. S’posed to protect me.” You’re clutching a stuffed animal to your chest, and you push it into JJ’s. It’s an old battered dolphin pillow pet, and his hands close instinctively around it. It’s sat on your bed since fourth grade, and the stuffing isn’t as fluffy as it used to be. He remembers when you first got it. “Mr. Melon’s feeling a little flat,” he comments.

You nod, but are silent, watching the tendons in his hands and the bones of his knuckles. In fact, you’re a little shocked that he remembers the stuffed animal’s name.

“Remember when we used to have sleepovers like, every night?” JJ asks, a little laughter in his voice. “I never understood why your mom was so happy to have me over on school nights.”

There’s a twinge in your chest. You understood. Even during the worst of you and JJ’s childhood arguments, your mom would coax you to invite him over, and she’d patch up his cuts and wash the dirt and blood stains out of his clothes.

“I miss our sleepovers,” you sigh. The two of you have scooted closer together subconsciously, the only barrier being Mr. Melon.

JJ nods, and asks, “Why’d we ever stop?”

You smile. “We got old, J.”

He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry.”Who cares? We’re old now, and look at us. Having the time of our lives. We could be ninety and still be the funnest people in the OBX.”

“Most fun,” you correct with a grin.

“Hey, y’know I have a shitty English grade,” he answers, playfully punching your upper arm.

“My mom was scared I’d fall in love with you,” you comment, a little off-subject with a shaky smile plastered across your face. “She always said I’d fall head over heels, and that you’d be the biggest heartbreaker in the county.”

JJ’s face gets serious quick, faux solemnity all in his eyes. “A real concern,” he says, deadpan, “For mothers everywhere.”

“She was right about you being a heartbreaker! Remember that poor touron from the other weekend?”

He scowls and shakes his head. “I made it very clear that it was a one night type of thing.”

It makes you think of your argument from less than a hour ago. If love was in the cards for any of the Pogues, it had to be JJ. Girls tripped over themselves just so he would notice them. But, you laugh, shove him in the arm, and switch the subject. “Remember when you fought John B in here and broke my lamp?”

“Wasn’t that like, what, fifth grade?” 

“Yeah. It was my favorite fairy lamp, and you bumped into it and her head broke off!”

You're both giggling, the tiredness setting in. “He called you a bitch! That was a big bad word back then,” JJ laughs, blond hair tangled and messy as it falls across his pillow.

Your eyebrows quirk up. “You call me a bitch all the time now.”

“That’s different,” he waves his hand to cut you off. “But then? I couldn't let him mess with my girl.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you kick yourself mentally for being so damn cliche when you feel it.

The two of you keep exchanging stories, thunder rolling and the lightning lighting up your room every few minutes.

“So, old-fashioned slumber party with the whole gang tomorrow night?” JJ proposes, his goodnight, his eyes barely open.

You nod and smile, then you do your best Pogue handshake the two of you can manage while lying on your sides. 

Your eyes drift close, and after a few minutes of silence filled with JJ’s breathing and the sound of your heart, you say, “My mom was right about another thing.” JJ takes a moment to process, cracking his eyes back open to look at you. Yours are still squeezed shut because you're scared to look at him. “About me falling in love with you. It was inevitable.” You’re shaking, but it has to be said. You have to at least get it out there.

His mouth goes dry. 

The silence is killing you, but you don’t dare look at him.

“Like destiny,” he finally says, tripping over the first word.

A warmth spreads through you, heat in your cheeks and heart. “Exactly like destiny.”

When you finally get the courage to look at him, he’s staring at you like you’ve peeled back your skin and revealed solid diamond underneath. Awestruck, maybe a little fear in that deep blue.

You can hear your own heartbeat, and your breath is shallow and short. His, in contrast, is deep and slow.

“She was wrong about one thing though.”

You wait for his answer, lips parted as you watch his gaze go from your eyes, to your lips, and back to your eyes, down to your lips again…

“I could never break your heart.”

Your cheeks heat when he traces a line from the end of your eyebrow, down your cheek and jawline. It’s a ghost of a caress, almost like you’re some holy relic that he thinks will heal him.

You start to backtrack, feeling a little embarrassed, a little scared “J, you don’t- don’t have to say something you don’t mean.” 

JJ draws his hand back so fast you jump, and he sits up and scoffs. “You think I’m bullshitting you?”

Your stomach drops as the sudden shift in emotion, and you nod hesitantly.

His jaw clenches as he turns his face away from you, and when he looks back at you his lips are pressed into a firm line. You’ve seen this expression only a couple of times, and only when JJ is on the brink of tears. In fact, his eyes seem a little glassy when he starts to speak. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life,” he snaps. 

“J-”

JJ waves his hand to cut you off. “No. It’s my turn to talk.” His voice does that thing where it gets a little higher, stress peeking through the cracks in his pitch. “Y’know how you called me blind earlier? You’re the blindest person ever! Everybody else sees the way I look at you except you!” he cries. His hands push anxiously through his hair. “It’s been you. Always you. As long as I can remember.” The way he’s looking at you practically sets you on fire. You can see it now. All those years of childhood crushes, pining and overthinking are evident in his eyes, like a storm at sea. “You-” his voice breaks fully now, and he covers his mouth with his fist before breathing and continuing. “You were the first person who made me feel like I was someone. Like, loved. You really made me feel loved.”

“Always have, always will,” you blurt out.

That’s when the dam bursts, and JJ begins to cry. You sit up and throw your arms around him, and his hands grasp your shirt like you’re a lifeline. He’s murmuring your name like a prayer, over and over like he’s trying to do penance. Before you can even begin to console him, he kisses you quick and soft. 

“Is that okay?” It’s so sweet, a side of JJ you hadn’t seen since you were little kids. Since before you had burdens and before the world got scary. 

“More than okay,” you whisper back, utterly melting against him. When he kisses you again, you can feel him smile, and feel the dampness from his eyes on your cheeks.

JJ can’t believe that you’re kissing him back, and he wonders if he’s dreaming. When your hands shift into his hair, he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. It has to be fake.

Almost like you can read his mind, you pull back. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you assure.

His smile is so wide, you think it’ll get stuck like that. “You’re gonna have me around forever,” he says. “That’s a promise.”

“It better be, Maybank. I kinda like you.” You cuddle up against him, head on his chest, grinning profusely.

“I guess I really do have to tell John B you couldn’t keep your hands off me,” he jokes.

“Shush! You’re gonna ruin the moment!”

[hippiichi]

also made this and i thought about his design so hard so im gonna explain every major design aspect under the cut...

ok so hat ofc, blue t shirt and pants ofc those are like THE finn outfit -long sleeve shirt: used for protection against scratches and bites this reason is also why the rosary and watch are on the outsides of his sleeves instead as they help keep those sleeves from being pulled and so he doesn't have to roll up his sleeves at any point. -Long Hair: Has never cut his hair once as Peppermint butler tank does not feature appendages that can properly cut hair nor does he have access to a comb so its wild and unkempt. -Hat patches: As someone who actively hunts vampires + is one of a very small group of humans left Finn's hat is constantly getting pulled at and ripped and torn from vampires going for his "neck protection" -Lip scar + hand scars: His lip scar is from trying to use a stake as a toothpick one time but getting a splinter from doing so, not taking it out and letting it get infected until pb stepped in to help resulting in a scar on his upper lip. His hand scars come from an especially nasty vampire fight as it scratched at his hands. -Blue Bottle/Hydroflask: A hydroflask containing holy water its connected to his belts/backpack through a tangle of thin leather strips that are latched onto a carabiner. -Rosary (One on wrist, one on sword): Finn doesn't really have a concept of what religion or christianity in particular is (since those things have been long dead) but despite that wearing a cross seems to deter vampires to an extent. -Sheathed Knife: A knife used to carve new stakes on the fly and cut through anything blocking his path/deter humans that attack him. -Gold Beads: Every gold bead represents someone who helped finn through his 14 years of life who was then killed by vampires so he doesn't forget them. -Garlic: Garlic air drying to be used in various weapons later, doubles as a natural deterrent much like bug spray -Star pendant: The pendant of The Star collected by Finn after finding it next to a skeleton on the outskirts of the Vampire King's domain -Leather pouch: Contains garlic seeds, quick food like jerky and granola bars, extra gold beads, a roll of leather strip twine, rolled bandages. -Backpack: Camping gear, 1 bedroll, 1 laptop with a "mini" peppermint butler ai software installed, various magical doo-dads hes collected, his backpack has a space that allows his sword to fit inside

[sadhours]

scumbag blues • battery acid

gator tillman x f!original character

previous chapter • masterlist

cw: 18+minors dni, unsolicited dick pics/videos, mean texts, drinking, kind of smut??? Gator tries

Daisy’s depressed. She’s been turning away clients left and right. The money from Roy keeps the bills paid but it’s tighter than before and her pops has noticed. Says something about it when Daisy’s cooking him lunch.

“I don’t know why things have taken such a turn, Daisy,” he sounds stressed. “We haven’t had a single guest in two weeks.”

“It’ll turn back around,” she assures him, “always does.”

Her mothers voice rings in her ears. Same mantra about how women have to take care of things. How women have a magic money maker between their legs and they’d be fools not to take advantage.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, she pulls it out and looks down at the notification. Gator. Hasn’t had the guts to block him like she should. She slides it open and is met with a photo of his cock. Hard as hell. He’s on his bed, she can see his cargos bunched up around his ankles and his combat boots. He’s sent You can’t quit me, baby along with the photo and she hates the way it ignites a flame in her stomach. She locks her phone and shoves it back in her pocket, resuming the can of tomato soup she’d been heating up. She wishes Gator would just give it up. There’s plenty of other women for sale in this county. But she knows he likes her. Their sexual chemistry is undeniable. And she’s certain Gator hasn’t been with any other woman. Yet, she doesn’t even know how many men she’s been with. It’s unfair. She can’t quit this. And that’s what Gator deserves, so she’ll have to quit him.

She butters up the bread for grilled cheeses, determined to get out of this funk and start taking clients again. Her mother would tell her she’s pathetic. Gator’s always been a client, he started out as such and it’d be laughable to think they could be more. It’s a god damn pipe dream and they both know it.

—

When Daisy reads his message but doesn’t respond, Gator gets furious but his cock is still hard. The arousal mixed with the anger facilitates in a bit of harassment on his end. He records himself jacking off, mumbles about how he knows she wants him. How she’s gonna watch it later and play with her pretty pussy. Which he fully believes. Records himself cumming, muttering, “Wish I was cumming in your tight hole, baby.”

Again, Daisy opens the messages and doesn’t respond. And now that Gator’s cock is softening, the anger takes over and he sends a handful of messages.

Whatever, bitch. Ur not even pretty. Just fucking easy.

Ur used up.

Probably should get tested. God knows ur fckn infected. Nasty slut.

Fuck u bitch

Then, Gator realizes these won’t help his case in any way so he sends another.

I’m sorry. Just miss u and I ain’t good at controlling my temper

The last message never delivers and Gator’s feeling like a pathetic loser with his cum drying on his stomach. Cleans himself up and grabs his keys. He needs to get as drunk as humanly possible. Fuck, he doesn’t care that it’s only noon. This pit of dread filling him needs to be released and alcohol can dull it. The Esquire Club opens at 10 am. He’ll be with like minded company. And well, if it’s two blocks from the Inn, that’s just a coincidence. He isn’t hoping that Daisy’ll wander in desperate for money. Definitely not.

The place is dead when he gets there aside from a couple of dudes rambling about sports. Gator doesn’t keep up with football anymore. Too bitter about high school. He would’ve been scouted, out of this shithole and never would’ve touched Daisy Way if that prick hadn’t busted his ankle. Swears if he ever sees that fucker again, he’ll kill him.

The hours drone on, Gator filling his belly with cheap whiskey and countless beers. Is absolutely stumbling around when the sun goes down. There’s girls in here tonight. Ones that know Gator’s the sheriff’s son, girls that touch his biceps and ask if he’s ever had to shoot anyone. He tells grandiose stories, fibbing on the extremities. Yeah, he sees a ton of action. Yeah, Gator’s a fucking badass. He’s a fucking winner.

He gets one of the girls in the bathroom, a brunette with heavy makeup and a short skirt. Has her leg propped up on the graffitied toilet. Limp dick in his hand as he tugs it, pleading internally for it to fill out but it just fucking won’t. He knows it’s the whiskey, his whole body is fucking numb. But he can’t help but think that if this were Daisy bent over for him, he’d be hard as a rock. It’s pathetic and it’s weird, but he grabs hold of the girl's hair and tugs her head back so he can grunt into her ear.

“You want me to fuck you, Daisy? Huh?” he laughs, “Want me to stretch you out so bad?”

“My names not Daisy?” the girl replies, confusion dripping in her voice.

“Shh,” he hisses, pulling on his cock and focusing on the fantasy, trying to will his dick to life. Nothing. He balls his fist up and slams it against the stall, “Fuck!”

He shoves his flaccid length back into his cargos and barrels out of there. Leaving the girl stunned and exposed. He’s a fucking loser. If he goes by the Inn, it’ll be pummeled into his head what a fucking loser he is. Somehow, he winds up at Faye’s apartment building. Hits the buzzer. Over and over until he hears her sleepy voice.

“Who is it?”

“Faye, it’s me— er,” he hiccups, “Gator. Can I come up?”

“Gator, it’s the middle of the night,” she sighs, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please,” he whines, hates how pathetic he sounds, “I have nowhere else to go. I won’t be fucking weird. Okay? I just… please, Faye.”

A beat of silence. Then the buzz and a green light. Gator tugs the door open and stumbles inside, looking down the hall until a door opens. Faye steps outside, rubbing her eyes and she’s wearing a long, flowy nightgown. She lets him inside and because of his intoxicated state, he clings onto her and fucking cries. Like the pathetic loser he is. But she wraps her arms around him.

“Gator, what happened?”

“I’m… I’m such a fucking loser,” he sobs, “I ruin everything.”

Faye squeezes him tighter, rubs his back soothingly. “Oh, Gator…”

She pulls back and puts her hands on his face, “I’m gonna make some tea. Sit on the couch and we’ll talk about it. Okay?”

She’s so good. So pure. So sweet. Gator hiccups and nods, moving to rub his fists against his teary eyes. Then he trudges to her living room, waiting for her to return.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Get Well Soon

Danny is sick and his powers are going crazy.

For the prompt: Danny comes down with a nasty, but totally regular cold. It's not the first time he's been sick since he got his powers, and normally, it's no big deal, but this time his powers are acting up, setting off randomly every so often. It's never very long, but it IS getting hard to hide, especially as he starts to recover. (AKA: sickfic with shenanigans) [from @gottacatchghosts]

Read also on AO3

[No applicable warnings]

Danny was dying. He was definitely gonna die. He was already half dead, but this vile infection was going to do him in the rest of the way. He moaned in pain and distress.

"Stop being so dramatic, Danny," Sam told him, rolling her eyes. "It's just a regular cold. It's not even a ghost flu or anything like that. It's a perfectly normal, run-of-the-mill cold, and you're gonna be fine."

"Are you sure about that, Sam?" Danny asked. 

His voice was low and nasally, thanks to his stuffy nose and sore throat, and he promptly buried his face in his blankets and burst into a coughing fit. 

When he looked up again, Sam was staring at him, wide-eyed.

He looked down at himself curiously, wondering what she was looking so freaked about. White gloves and black sleeves met his swimming vision.

"Just a normal cold, huh?" He looked at her and raised an eyebrow—probably both actually. His muscle control wasn't the best at the moment.

"It is just a cold," she insisted. "We've already run the tests, and there's absolutely no chance at all that this virus is in any way ghost related. It's a regular cold, Danny. You're just gonna have to tough it out until it goes away."

Danny groaned in despair and agony.

"But Saaaammm."

"I don't know what you think I can do about it. I'm rich, not magic."

He groaned again, and Sam shuddered as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped to freezing, and a thin sheen of frost formed on Danny's window.

He'd had colds before since getting his powers, and normally, it wasn't that big a deal. It sucked, sure; being sick always sucked. But nothing like this had ever happened before. His powers had never acted up like this before, and he'd never lost control of his powers.

Sam walked over and opened his window to let the cold air escape.

"I've gotta get going," she told him apologetically. "You should change back before your parents come in to check on you. Fair warning, your mom was making soup when I came in."

"Thanks for the warning," he grumbled, and sniffed.

It took more concentration than usual to shift back into his Fenton form, but it seemed he hadn't completely lost control of his powers... yet, at least.

It was only a few minutes later that his mom came in, carrying a steaming mug full of chicken soup.

"Hi sweetie, how you feeling?" she asked, her voice dripping with sympathy.

"I feel half dead," Danny replied with a small smirk. 

He felt a sneeze coming on, but held it in. He knew what would happen.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she told him pouted. "Do you need anything? Cough syrup? Hot tea? Marshmallows? Oh!" 

She turned to look in her utility belt, and as she did so, Danny let loose a sneeze, and the accompanying ghost-ray that shot out from him and scorched the wall opposite his bed, only narrowly missing his mother.

"Your dad found his old Game Boy," she said, pulling out a device lat looked kind of like Tucker's PDA, but way more eighties. "You don't have to take it if you don't want, but since you're stuck in bed right now, it might be fun, just to pass the time."

Danny put his mug of soup down on his bedside table, wiped his sweaty hands off on his blankets, and took the device from his mom. Examining it to figure out how exactly it worked. The controls were fairly intuitive, but he couldn't find the 'on' button. His mother laughed softly.

Well if that keeps you entertained, then my work here is done. She patted her knees, stood up and walked out the door with a gentle, "Get well soon, sweetie."

As soon as the door closed, Danny sneezed again. A ghost ray shot out and his the door where his mother's head had been a moment before.

Yeah... he'd better get well soon.

The Game Boy only had Tetris, Pac-Man, and the Ghostbusters 2 video game, so Danny chose to play the one game that didn't have ghosts in it, only to discover rather quickly that he sucked ass at Tetris. That didn't stop him from trying, even though his record at this point was 16 lines.

He was starting to get chills now, but he remained steadfastly focused on his game until his dad came into the room.

"Ah, the old Game Boy," he said fondly, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to Danny. "You know, I can get all the way to level two hundred and fifty-six on Pac-Man. Spent a whole summer trying to get a perfect score, but I never quite got there."

"I'm playing Tetris," Danny said.

A chill wracked his body and he saw his hands disappear and gasped softly. Thankfully his dad didn't notice, or the man might've turned around to look and seen empty air where his son had been a moment before. Danny quickly turned himself visible again.

"Oh... yeah, there was a deal going when I bought the Game Boy," his dad explained, oblivious as usual to the paranormal activity happening behind him. "It came with a free copy of Tetris. I tried it a few times, but the best score I ever got was twenty rows before I finally gave up."

"Yeah," Danny commiserated. "I've only gotten up to 16 so far."

He shuddered again with a chill and turned invisible once more. Then his dad started to turn toward him and Danny desperately snapped back into the visible spectrum.

"Well, as long as you're having fun, that's all that matters," his dad said.

Danny smiled in response, just relieved he'd managed to turn visible again before his dad saw—or rather, didn't see.

They didn't talk long before his dad left, and he was in his room alone again, free to turn invisible as much as he liked—whether he wanted to or not.

It was more-or-less fine when he was mostly left alone in his room with no one to see his powers acting up. He was still sick, and he still felt like death, but at least he didn't have to worry to much about his secret identity being found out.

But a few days later, he started to recover. He could get up and walk around the house, and people spent more time around him because they were less worried about catching his cold. The problem with that was, even though he was on the mend, his powers were still acting up.

Once, when he was microwaving some soup, he randomly went intangible and fell halfway through the kitchen floor. Thankfully Jazz had been the only one to see, and she'd helped pull him back up, but if his parents had been there, he'd have been screwed. 

When he was watching TV with his mom, he'd had a light cough and when he looked up, he saw that he'd accidentally made the coasters on the coffee table start floating. Thankfully, she'd been too focused on the drama they were watching together to notice, but it had been a close call.

His cold was almost gone, but he wasn't out of the woods yet.

Truly, he couldn't get well soon enough.

[scarisd3ad]

Doctor duties

part of the 'to the end and back' series (Daryl Dixon x reader)

masterlist

Taglist

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Summary - reader doing her doctor duties while at the quarry

Warnings - none

era - quarry (season one)

edited

All my medical equipment is set up on a table near Dale's parked RV. I've got a little fold-up table and two chairs set up. Glenn had brought the folding chairs and table on a run a while back because 'the doctor shouldn't have to do her duties on the ground.' no matter how often I tell Glenn that I'm not a doctor, he still calls me 'doc.'

I don't get many illnesses in the group, but there are a lot of cuts, bruises, and injuries. "Hey, doc, can you check this out for me?" Shane asks as he walks over and sits in the chair across from me. "sure," I say as he puts his arm up onto the table, revealing a nasty cut. It's deep, and he'll probably need stitches.

 "how'd this happen?" I ask as I take some alcohol on a cotton pad and dab it across the cut. "Out on a run for water, cut myself up on a fence post," he says with a hiss as the alcohol hits his wound. "Sorry, sorry," I mutter as I grab some gauze, a needle, and some thread. "you're probably gonna need stitches, though." I clean the needle with some alcohol before threading the needle. "Alright, this is probably gonna hurt. I'm sorry," I say before stabbing the needle through his skin.

Shane hisses as he grips the plastic table. "Ke-keep going," he mutters. I finish his stitches before wrapping it up with gauze and sending him on his way. "y/n! y/n! y/n!" Sophia runs up to my table with Carl trailing behind her. "What is it, soph?" she points to a band-aid barely sticking to her leg. "Can I have another?" she asks. I don't understand why kids are so obsessed with band-aids; the scratch on her shin is long gone and has been for a week. "sure," I say before reaching into the band-aid box and handing her one.

 Sophia and Carl run off again, leaving me to clean up the mess of blood left on the table after Shane's stitches. "Hey..." I look up to see Glenn standing there with a smile. I raise my eyebrow skeptically. "What do you want, dumbass?" I mutter as he sits in the chair across from me. "nothin' just wanted to say hi," I roll my eyes. "don't touch anything." Glenn raises his hands before laughing, "I won't, alright?" we sit there chit-chatting until we notice Daryl Dixon walking towards us.

Oh god, my heart speeds up. I'm scared of him and his brother everyone is. No one understands why either of them are staying with us; they are rarely at camp anyway. Merle is always out, raising havoc. Half the time, we don't know where the fuck he is. And Daryl is always out hunting; if he's not, he's telling nonsense stories about a chupacabra.

"Hey doc, need yer help." Daryl only asks for help if he really needs it. I gesture for Glenn to move while staring at him with pleading eyes, begging him not to leave me alone with him. "what's wrong?" I ask as Daryl takes a seat. "Just want ya to look at this scratch," he says, tapping a small, almost healed cut on his cheek. I nod and walk over to him, kneeling to look at it. It's small and still red, not any green color, so I quickly grab a cotton pad and some Neosporin. I squeeze some onto his cheek before dabbing it with the cotton pad. I sit there for a second with his chin in my hand. I can feel his breath against my face. He makes me so nervous, and I don't know why.

"We-well, it's not infected, so you're good," I whisper before pulling away from him. "Alright, that's good. I'll see ya later, I guess," he mutters before getting up and walking away. I look over to see Glenn sitting in my chair with his brows raised. "Move," I mutter as I swat at his shoulder. he laughs before getting up and taking his seat across from me. "What was that with Daryl?" he asks, my brows furrow. "I was doing my job," I whisper as I throw away the cotton pad and put the Neosporin back into my bag. "No, it looked like you were going to kiss him." my face scrunches up in disgust. "Gross why would I want to kiss Daryl Dixon?"

Taglist

@rivversin @soul4death @furiousheartpoetry @silicone-bonez @nezukos-number1fan @your-shifting-gurl @maziejay08 @oi-itse @tati-21 @kimbunnysstuff @blipblopper @ramielll @ilyhannah @daryldixonnn @delicatebearpandaopera @crypticmushroom

[scummrevisited]

tumblr wouldn't let me answer this directly so screencap it is hey anon this answer got way too long so i'll put everything under the cut. how could you tell i have an autism diagnosis, contains major spoilers for tales of monkey island. i already talked abt the events often on my blog but jic DHFG

monkey island? well the first 4 games are just. decent stuff happening, funny protagonist guybrush threepwood just does his silly adventures, not much angst happening there really, some dialogue and events can be interesting to analyze in serious contexts but theyre not really meant to be taken serious, for those 4 games i'll group em together as a 4. not that much going on but theres a few tense moments, but again, not meant to be taken super seriously, i will note in the third game elaine gets turned into a golden statue which logically worries him a lot but once again. not meant to be taken as super tragic angst, another note is at the ending of monkey island 2 where guybrush gets repeatedly stabbed and otherwise hurt via a voodoo doll, the animations accompanied with it look quite painful so i'll give MI2 a 4 for overall and 8 for the ending puzzle

tales of monkey island however? ysee. the first chapter already starts out strong with the fact that. guybrush's left hand is infected by a weird possessive pox he caused. so theres some guilt in there even though hes very stubborn abt the fact he didn't truly cause it, even though he did. but this doesn't go in very deep so i wouldn't take it as real angst yet. his hand is now possessed and sometimes acts on its own and its more geared towards humor, but occasionally has more distressing moments. and it seems like this was gonna be a bit of a bigger plot point? but his hand gets cut off at the start of chapter 2 and its not rlly touched on again HDCFVG

chapters 2 and 3 are decent. there's some moments that touch more on guybrush's character compared to the previous 4 games but i wouldn't say a heavily lot happens, i will say though theres moments where guybrush's worry for elaine being infected by the pox is touched on.

chapter 4.. lord, its basically a whole court room thing a la ace attorney. and its touched on all what guybrush caused. but its more cartoonish and illogical which is kind of what the whole thing is about. those charges are in fact stupid. however in the later parts of the chapter it gets more touched on the actual nasty things he did especially once elaine gets in the courtroom. like yep guybrush youre stupid as hell and causing a lot of problems for everyone. this does get into the realm of angst at times which is true, but not the juice of the series yet, as the chapter goes on however, one of the main cast characters thats been with you since the second third and fourth chapters, morgan leflay, straight up dies. and you find her corpse within one of the rooms and its eeringly silent, only ambience no music, it is in fact a rather touching moment and guybrush himself is rather very distressed about it. this is where the real angst begins and a tonal shift has happened. and really lets you set in that yes, characters do in fact die in a non humor way here. and yes, guybrush gets to realize that no one lives forever

ysee the tonal shift is already felt well throughout, you get to the last puzzle of chapter 4 and all goes well its ending with a classic catch up story cutscene, lechuck whos been turned into a human shows up, fun talks until… lechuck just stabs guybrush straight through the heart. where guybrush says his last words to elaine and he dies. like not even a gotcha fake death hes just actually dead. the chapter ends there.

chapter 5 revolves around guybrush being in the afterlife, he awakens as a ghost in the afterlife, with holding something in his pocket known as the last shred of life. ysee you carry something with you in the afterlife you were truly clutching onto when dying, which differs from every character in the afterlife. you make your way through the afterlife where you meet morgan! which really sets in the fact they both truly Died. and also dabbles more in their relationship! talks of death and how guybrush can still enter the mortal realm bc of his last shred of life, which morgan can't. it does get dabbled with there.

ysee you finally meet elaine again! but youre a ghost! and lechuck is there! and lechuck manages to persuade elaine into becoming his demon bride basically turning her evil. and she straight uses the rootbeer concoction to straight up "kill" ghost guybrush sending him back to the afterlife, which is actually a reference to the first game! where guybrush manages to do the exact same thing to a different ghost. so thats a role reversal for sure. the animation of guybrush being zapped with it looks rather painful too. then you manage to find your own corpse again. which you have to repossess. and you manage that and thus walk around as an undead zombie of some kind. you're finally able to confront lechuck again and he uhh. straight up grabs guybrush by the neck and lifts him up and gets real threatening and uh. punches him. aggressively. straight up beats him up like i'm legit not exaggerating he fucking beats him up.

ysee this is the last puzzle of tales chapter 5. it plays off of the last puzzle formula in the previous games, where your always taken around locations in a timed manner out of ur control. ysee what tales did with this formula is that the way guybrush gets sent to a different location is that he gets fucking punched or kicked there and guybrush sounds like hes in PAIN. theres even a voiceline literally saying hes bleeding. he's absolutely miserable and can barely make his usual funny comments anymore, and still tries to make funny quips but is interrupted by pain or by getting punched. at some point he's literally keelhauled. eventually when you finish the puzzle you sacrifice the last shred of life and youre.. at first suggested to be stuck forever in the afterlife. you sacrificed your last shred of life thus have no way to be in the mortal realm again. and its fucking eerie, much like when you find morgans corpse, the last section of the game finds you at the crossroads unable to go to any other room, no music playing, and pure ambience. it was fucking jarring. eventually you just use the ring on the crossroads and guybrush gets a happy end by being fully back to life as a living humen being but uhh. yeah he went through it. he fucking did dude.

so tales of monkey island? the first 4 chapters i'd say about a 6 bc yeah its silly but the stakes are a bit higher, chapter 4's ending + most of chapter 5 is definitely an 8. and the final puzzle a fucking 10 bc jesus christ man

i haven't played return to monkey island yet so i cannot judge that one just yet, and i'd prefer no spoilers, i'm planning to play return after i finish escape.

i was gonna write about nelson tethers too but i ran out of energy a bit so, anon expect a reblog of this post abt nelson too soon bc man he's fucking going through it as well

[nerves-nebula]

Fuck it, we ball.

—

Leo groaned as he kicked off his blankets, his whole body felt gross and nasty as the summer heat made the farmhouse feel like a sauna. Donnie was still working on fixing the A/C, but he kept mumbling about not having pieces he needed to get it “optimal”.

Leo refused to complain about the heat to her brothers, though. She took the room with the worst air conditioning so they wouldn’t have to. It had a window that practically worked like a death ray when the sun was high in the sky, cooking her in her shell.

“Try to think of the positives.” She rubbed her face, “I’m probably getting a nice tan from this.”

She practically jumped out of her shell when a loud banging came to her door, Mikey and Raph’s voices behind the knocks, calling her name in their “we’re trying to be obnoxious on purpose” voices. He groaned and pulled himself from bed to throw the door open, glaring at the boys standing on the other side.

“What?” She snapped, trying to put on an air of being annoyed. In reality, she could already feel her brother’s excitement radiating off them and infecting her own mood.

“It’s too damn hot.” Raph said, “So we’re gonna have a picnic down by the lake and go swimming.”

Donnie nodded excitedly, “We haven’t had a good soak in real water in ages. It’s good for our health.”

“Donnie says baths don’t count as real soaks because of micro-blah blah blah.” Mikey mimed Donnie’s talking with his hand, sticking out his tongue, “I say: Cannonball contest. Biggest splash gets first pick at the picnic basket.”

“Bet.” Leo grinned, “I’m getting antsy anyways.”

The other three all yelled in excitement, hurrying off to get ready for the excursion now that they knew Leo was coming.

-

Donnie was the first one in the water. It made sense, he was the most aquatic of them all, and he’d been sick plenty of times from drying out when they were kids. They had barely even set up the picnic blanket before they heard the thunk of Donnie dropping his shell cover and running for the water. He dove in like the natural swimmer he was, resurfacing moments later with a laugh.

“It’s cold!” He shouted, “It’s almost 90 degrees outside, why is the water cold?”

“How should I know, genius?” Raph yelled back, “You’re the smart guy here!”

Donnie just dove back down, the only hint of him visible from the surface being the bright purple shorts he wore.

“What a dork.” Leo grinned, “He’s gonna get a sunburn and complain all day tomorrow.”

Mikey and Raph just laughed, Raph grabbing the sunblock to start smearing over himself. They formed a circle, each getting the others’ backs and shells for them. Leo purposefully poked his fingers just a little too hard into Mikey’s sides, laughing when Mikey yelped at what he thought was an attempted tickle.

“You watch your hands, Leonardo.” Mikey glared.

“Why, Mikey, whatever do you mean?” Leo placed a hand to his chest, feigning innocence, “I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”

Raph laughed this time, reaching over to shove Leo, just hard enough to knock him over into the grass, “That is the biggest fuckin’ lie.”

“I’m an innocent angel!”

“You’re full of shit is what you are!”

Mikey squealed as Leo pounced on Raph, the pair scuffling through the overgrown weeds, staining their clothes as they tussled. They yelled names at each other, but unlike years before their tones held no real heat. Mikey watched as they pushed and shoved at each other, happily deciding not to tell them that they were very quickly rolling towards the lake.

Leo’s last insult was cut off suddenly by a loud shout as Raph tumbled into the water, surprised both by the feeling and how Donnie had been right- it was fucking cold!

“What’s wrong, Raphie?” Leo teased, “Can’t handle a little water?”

Mikey took that moment to bolt, heading directly for where Raph and Leo had landed, hopping at the last possible second to leap over them and splash into the lake, subsequently drenching his brothers with the lake’s water. Leo and Raph both shouted loud enough for hun to hear beneath the surface and he was quick to escape before he faced their combined wrath, diving down towards where he could see Donnie, who had surfaced near the center of the lake to float and stare at the clouds.

“I’m causing problems on purpose.” He told Donnie, who just rolled his eyes.

“You’re a menace, Michelangelo. Forget the fact that we’re mutants and obviously inhuman, your actions are the reason we can’t join proper society.” He reached over and lightly bapped Mikey on the head, “You’d probably become a criminal.”

“My goal in life is to be an episode of a true crime podcast.” Mikey giggled, kicking up onto his back so he could float next to Donnie. They relaxed, enjoying a moment of comfortable semi-silence (seeing as Leo and Raph were still wrestling on the shore), taking in the wonderful feeling of the lake’s gentle waves against their skin.

“Did you ever think we’d get here?” Mikey asked, uncharacteristically quiet, almost like he was afraid to ask it.

“No.” Donnie’s answer was easy, “But I’m glad we did.”

——

I figured we’ve had a long streak of sad and angery lately, I wanted to show the light at the end of the tunnel.

-Monster Anon

STOPPPPPP THAT'S SOOO SWEEET AUGHHCKAGHAG. raph and leo play fighting instead of REAL fighting,,, gaougahh, the way they would have to get wAAAYY more comfortable with each other to even get to that point cause they'd associate each other with violence and pain for the longest time,,aggajfjmga... stoppppppppaghgosjfmgan.

[kukkakisu]

*sPLODES*

Hello! I’ve been digging around your oc lore and I’m curious, Is Nate gonna be ok? I can’t imagine very slowly being infected by something incurable is all too good for the system, mentally or physically. Does CC notice at all? Does anyone?

Also, I can’t imagine The Conductor is going to be too happy when CC brings his human guardian to the manor one day. I can only imagine that would be, at the very least, very awkward for everyone involved. Like a kid brings over their stepdad to meet their other dad who hates the other. (Although, that presumes any interaction would happen in the first place, which it might not given Nate's schedules, but I thought it was a funny thought, but also ignore me if this is cringe as I don’t know them well enough)

Any other notable oc interactions? I still wonder what early Naava lore is like. (I still think it’s so cool that it grows usnea, especially since usnea is a valuable medicinal herb great for being a natural bandaid, and idk that feels pretty in line with Naava’s whole deal.)

Carmine. Please let him be okay. Someone get this employee some cookies and a blanket.

Lastly, just a quick ty for the little comments/support on Vela’s post :) <3 I hope they can be friends with your ocs… or uh, (looks at Vultur trading lives for a cookie) some of them. They would love Naava, but I can’t imagine their getup is particularly approachable looking to brackens, least of all one that does not like humans to begin with.

Hii! Yippee! Thank you for the questions! Nathaniel keeps things hidden well very much on purpose. He doesn't want to bother others with the concern of his illness or for them to pity him because of it. Copycat has seen what is going on with his body but doesn't understand the gravity of the situation since Nate hasn't explained it to him. He's stubborn and resilient so regardless of what his fate will end up being, he won't give up without putting up a fight. He's determined to find a cure. Whether he will survive or not-- well. Ahahah! Next question! (I will be drawing or writing something relating to it later, so you will find out eventually!) Naava has met Nate but only watches him from a distance whenever he interacts with CC. They don't want to go close, and somewhat respect CC's decision to be friendly with the human. As long as the human is friendly too, it's fine. They will be watching closely regardless. Just in case. If something goes wrong, they won't hesitate to run in and end his life. Conductor has in fact also met Nate. It does not like him but lets him be because Naava wishes so. Might have tried to fight the poor guy once and got scolded by the Bracken afterward. So now whenever Nate visits the interior of the Moon he usually gets to go about his business in peace. Not that he's there any longer than he needs to be. 30 minutes at most. Conductor will still very much throw nasty glares at the medic whenever it ends up running into him, though. Copycat likes just about anyone and anything that he can interact with without blowing up. If it isn't actively hurting or threatening him? Friend! Someone he hasn't seen before? Friend! Funny looking plant? You guessed it, friend! Gets along with others easily, though human employees are understandably sometimes a bit off-put by him. What comes to other interactions, I will be putting them under a read more so this post doesn't become too long! There is a lot!

Carmine is still dealing with the traumatic loss of his crew, but he is learning to love and find joy again.

He is in a much better place now. At first he was very timid and unsure but warmed up to the others quickly. He's a scaredly cat, even more so than CC, but will grab his shovel and defend his friends if he has to. He also gets along great with Nate. He feels calm around him and is grateful that there is someone who can guide them through scary situations without faltering. It's still hard for them to be around CC, but he's taking his time and slowly getting used to the energetic Masked who keeps bringing him plastic fish. He thinks it's cute, even if the mask still startles him from time to time. Has seen Naava once. Got so startled he ran away screaming. Naava didn't chase him. None of the Brackens he runs into do. They can probably tell how scared he is and leave the poor man be. Or perhaps they can sense something else. The waters of Gordion do have a distinct scent of death, after all.

Nate and Vultur dislike each other. They have history and very opposing views on their research. CC doesn't know why they don't get along but can sense the tension between them and has learned that Vultur is one of those people he shouldn't get close to. Something about the way they stare at him through the helmet's visor is enough to send shivers down his spine.

Paradox is a name I haven't mentioned in a while, but her interactions with the others are very limited and not kind. The Jester sleeps and is usually dormant for long durations at a time. It wakes up during eclipses and that is a dangerous time for everyone on the Moon. While Paradox isn't that interested in eating Brackens or Nutcrackers, Masked have a similar scent and taste to that of human employees. So. You can probably see where this is going. Both Naava and Conductor are on high alert during this time, making sure to keep a very close eye on CC. It would be preferred that the little Masked wouldn't even be on the moon during that time, but it can't always be prevented. They've had few encounters with the hungry Jester. She's not one to listen during her hunt, so the best they can do is to hold her back or find something else to feed her. Once it's full, Paradox will sink back inside the box and sleep until the next eclipse arrives. She has a neutral opinion of others (everyone is mice to it) but is a lot more docile after it has eaten.

Also I am so happy you noticed the neat little usnea thing! It is intentional and Naava often uses it to aid their injured friends. The specific kind that grows on them is not only an antiseptic but also an anesthetic. Correctly applied, it can stop the bleeding of most wounds and quicken the recovery process. It can't do miracles though, so if someone is too far gone there is only so much Naava can do to help. Their past is still a bit of an unknown territory for most of the creatures, but they do know it came from the earth itself. Naava often talks about the importance of being kind to others, because in the end, the earth will swallow them all. And in the belly of the earth, nobody is anything and everyone is everything. None of them understand what they mean but in time… I'm sure they will find out :)

And aaa of course! Vela is so delightful! I'd love for them to meet some of my babies! While Naava is naturally cautious of humans and would definitely find the eyes on the helmet a bit threatening, they're a lot softer on people who are anxious, in distress, and/or considerate of others. So I think Vela would be safe! Nate and CC are usually the friendliest toward pretty much anyone and anything. Carmine is timid and it takes him time to get used to new people but I'm sure he'd love to have a new friend as well! And well, the questionable experiments and dissecting aside, Vultur does have a softer side to them. It's just very hard to get through their shell. They've lost a lot and openly caring about others is a type of vulnerability they try to avoid in fear of losing something they love again. They do like doing embroidery on the suits of their crew though so there is something in common with them!

And like, even if characters wouldn't technically get along it's always possible to think of silly interactions with them! It's a lot of fun! Always feel free to drop by my messages if you want to chat about them more!

[glassofspoiledmilk]

Going Gold | Yuri P.

Chapter 8, Dinner | TW: Language

As we made our way to the restaurant, i walked beside Yuri, glancing at him occasionally. When we got to the restaurant, it was packed with people. We waited in a line for about 10 minutes before getting up to the hostess stand.

"We have a reservation under the name baranoskaya" Lilia said.

"Yes your table is ready, follow me" the hostess replied as she escorted us to our table.

It was a a circular table with a white cloth covering it. There were two chairs on each side, Yuri and I sat on the left side, Yakov and Lilia sat on the right.  I lifted up my menu and tried to read it but it was all in french, and I don't speak a lick of French.

"Yo Yuri what does this mean" I said as I pointed to a paragraph on the menu.

"Why are you reading the French side" he said, giving me a look.

"There's an English side?" I asked, slightly embarrassed.

He took the menu out of my hands, flipped it over, and gave it back to me.

"There" he replied.

"Oh" I said defeated as I read over the menu.

"Bonjour, my name is Vivianne and I will be your waiter this evening, can I get you guys anything to drink?" The waiter said with a thick French accent as she popped up infront of our table.

"I'll have a glass of Chateau Angelus red wine" Lilia says as she puts her menu down.

"Um I'll have a glass of Pinot Grigio" yakov says awkwardly.

"Can I have apple juice" Yuri says nonchalantly.

I kick his knee.

"What the fuck Yuri who orders fucking Apple Juice at a fancy French restaurant!" I whisper yell at him.

"What do you want me to order!?" He says back.

"I don't know but definitely not apple juice!" I say  as I roll my eyes.

"So apple juice or no?" The waiter says awkwardly.

"Uh yea sorry" he says, glaring at me.

"And what would you like ma'am?" The waiter asks me.

"Can I have cherry coke please?" I ask.

"Oh yea sodas so fancy Y/N that's what I should've ordered" Yuri says sarcastically.

"Shut up" I said as I kick him under the table.

"Oww" he whined as he reached down to grab his knee.

"Alright I'll be back with your drinks shortly" Vivianne says sounding slightly frightened.

I rolled my eyes as I looked back at the menu to look for something to order. I decided that I was going to get French onion soup because that was the only thing I was familiar with on the menu.

When the waiter came back with our drinks, she asked us if we were ready to order.

Lilia and yakov ordered some fancy French dish I had never heard of, Yuri got Alfredo pasta (which I hadn't seen on the menu), and I obviously got the French onion soup.

"So yuri, still confident your gonna win?" I tease.

"Yea why wouldn't I be" he says looking up at me from his phone.

"Just wondering, cuz you know I'm doing more quads than you are" I say as I take a sip of my drink.

He groans at my obvious attempts to annoy him.

"Also where did you find the Alfredo?" I add.

"In the pasta section?" He says with a snarky tone.

"Oh" I replied.

Around 20 minutes later the waiter comes back with our food.

"Does everything look ok?" She said after she placed down everyone food.

"It look great thank you" yakov says politely.

"Great I'll be back to check on your guys in a little" She adds as she walks away.

I ate some of my soup, and then looked over at Yuri.

"Yuri that smells really good, can I have some?" I say as I lean over towards him.

His face slightly reddens.

"ew no get your nasty face out of my food your gonna infect it" he said, pushing me away.

"Oh Yuri you suck" I say, annoyed.

I slightly gasp.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"Oh my god Yuri look at that!" I say as I point to across the restaurant.

As he looks over I lean in and take some of his pasta, however he whips back and my face flies straight into his food.

I lift up my head, which is now covered in sauce, and wipe my eyes.

Yuri bursts out laughing.

"I hate you so much Yuri" i say, half joking.

I excuse myself to the bathroom, which is extremely fancy.

The lights are dimmed, and the walls look like they're straight out of Versailles.

I walk over to the mirror, and grab a crap ton of paper towels.

I wiped down my face first, then my hair.

The top of my head was completely slicked down with water so I pulled it back into a ponytail. I grabbed my handbag and pulled out my mascara, eyeliner, blush, and lipgloss. When I started doing my makeup, I heard someone open the door.

I look in the mirror and see Yuri standing in the bathroom with his eyes covered.

"Yuri it's just me in here, you don't have to cover your eyes" I said.

He removed his hand and looked at me.

"U-uhm I just wanted to say sorry for laughing, even though it was funny" Yuri said as he walked over towards me.

I face back to the mirror and re apply my mascara.

"It's fine I was being stupid, you don't need to apologize" I say with a  laugh.

He laughs.

As I reapply my makeup, I can feel his gaze upon me. My cheeks blush red as I try not to look at him.

When I finished I turned to look at him and he looked back at me.

I could tell he was trying to repress the blush on his cheeks.

"There's something in your hair" he says as he laughs hysterically.

My face goes completely red from embarrassment.

"Here I got it" he says as he reaches back and grabs a couple paper towels from the dispenser.

I looked deep into his eyes, almost in a trance as he gently cupped the side of my face with his left hand and carefully got some sauce out of my hair with his right.

I could feel my heart rate increase within seconds.

He turns around to throw away the paper towel and I'm still completely dazed.

"Are you ok?" Yuri says as his face flushes an even deeper shade of pink.

"Yeah I'm fine" I reply as I snap back to reality.

"You ready to go back?" He asks.

"Yea" i add as I make my way to the door.

We walked outside of the bathroom together, which earned many looks of disapproval from nearby older couples.

"Hey Yuri do you think those older couples would believe me if I told them you were a girl" I say through repressed laughter.

He rolls his eyes and pushes me forward.

"Owww" I say as I rub my back.

He lets out a smug huff in response.

"I got the dessert menu from the waiter if you would like to look at it" Lilia says and we sit down across from her.

I picked up the menu, and Yuri leaned over my shoulder so he could see it too. His face was incredibly close to mine and I could feel the warmth of his body on my own.

I struggled to keep my eyes on the menu.

I read through and everything looked really good. there were fresh croissants, macarons, hot chocolate, every sweet French delicacy.

But I wasn't hungry, I didn't even want to eat my soup that was now starting to get cold from the time I was in the bathroom.

My stomach felt queasy like I was gonna be sick, but I knew I wasn't. I couldn't get my heart to stop racing, and I could tell my face was red. I took a sip of my coke and went on my phone, praying it would distract me enough to the point where I can normally function again.

Yuri ended up not getting anything and eating his pasta, which I though was absolutely disgusting because my entire head was in it, but whatever.  Lilia asked the waiter for the check and we headed on our way back to the hotel.

When we arrived, I was exhausted. I threw off my  heels and grabbed a pair off pajamas from my suitcase.

"I'm going to shower" I said with a yawn.

I walked into the bathroom and started the shower.

I looked into the mirror and pulled out my hair tie. The top of my head was completely slicked down, and the bottom was sticking out.

I physically cringed at the sight.

When I stepped into the shower I immediately started washing my hair to try and get the cheese out of my hair. After that I washed my body and got out. I put my pajamas on and sat down on the toilet for my nightly routine. I did my skincare like usual, but it didn't feel usual.

Something was wrong.

I couldn't say what it was even if I wanted too, something just felt different.

It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling, it was just different.

When I finished my skincare, I went back into the main area of the room and plopped down on my bed.

[panicatthediaz]

New chapter, new POV! Ok, it's not gonna be this way for long. There's this one, then one more chapter, and we are back to the scheduled shenanigans. I've just been hit with a desire to write some other people in the meantime.

[Part 1] – [Part 6] – [Part 8]

@madaboutmunson @lamburrito @benjaminrussell @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dijkstraspath @swiftiebuckleys @spectrum-spectre @epiclazershark @redheadchimechild [Let me know if you want to be tagged!]

Pin a String to My Chest – 7

The phone call

It went beyond saying that he was itchy as hell. And, according to Robin, grumpy as all hell too. At least there was no sign of rabies, or any infection or other Upside-Down nastiness.

Steve sighed, wrapping up his torso once more. A week had passed since their battle, and everyone was healing fine. Both his and Eddie's bat bites were healing (slowly), Max was ordering everyone around (minus El) as usual, and Dustin had a lot of his mobility back.

At least, Dustin was already spending most of his days in the hospital. If anything happened, he'd have help. Wayne was there too, waiting for his nephew to wake up.

Steve finished getting ready for his shift at Family Video. He'd had enough of stewing at home alone. Sure, Claudia often stopped by with homemade meals and some other snacks, but those tended to be quick visits.

He needed something to do, something to distract him from the fact that not everyone was out and about just yet.

Steve had a foot out of the front door when the phone rang.

He debated letting it go unanswered; not a lot of people called him at home, and the Party was more likely to use the walkies. But he remembered that the kids' parents called sometimes, to ask for some small favors or to check if he'd be able to take the kids somewhere because they were busy.

(The kids often radioed him about rides before their parents called. They were, at this point, mostly to confirm plans.)

So he turned back around and picked up the phone.

"Steve!" A woman — his mom greeted. "Hey, honey, how are things at home?"

He barely held in a sigh at her overly sweet tone. Unfortunately, he knew the routine by now. "Hi, mom. Everything is fine."

"That's great to hear. Listen—" And there it was, the real reason for her call. "Your father heard about a serial killer in Hawkins, and we wanted to make sure you wouldn't do anything stupid, okay?"

Steve did sigh then. Of course, they were only calling now. He wouldn't be surprised if they only caught word of the whole thing a week later either.

"We could—"

"Mom, it's fine." He interrupted the obvious offer to send him tickets to wherever they were right now. "It all happened a week ago." That information was met with silence. Steve could picture her expression clearly: A frown quickly smoothed into indifference. "The feds already caught him."

"Oh, thank God, that Munson boy—"

"Is innocent." He knew she hated being interrupted, that she hated when he was anything but the proper little boy she raised him to be. But he couldn't let her finish that thought. "Eddie is innocent."

"Steve…"

Same old scolding tone.

"I'm just saying, mom," he continued, forcing nonchalance into his tone. "It's been a week, I'm sure the feds already announced his innocence. I mean…" He paused, taking in a deep breath. "He helped a bunch of teens escape."

They all had the cover story drilled into their brains by Agent Stinson, but even without it, Steve knew it wouldn't be a lie.

"He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and ended up witnessing something that made him a target."

There was nothing but silence for long, long seconds, time Steve knew his mom spent trying to rein in whatever nasty thought she just had.

"Listen, mom, I hate to cut the call short, but I'm gonna be late for work," he lied. When he didn't have to pick anyone up on his way, he usually left with enough time to loiter a while. "I'll talk to you soon."

With a sigh, his mom hung up the phone without another word. He shouldn't be surprised but he was still annoyed, he supposed, that despite hearing about it a week later, they still only had half the story.

Steve regretted, now that everything was over, that he'd been just as ready to believe in Eddie's guilt as everyone else. As his mother seemed to still believe.

Eddie did more than he should have had to and ended up in a coma for his troubles.

He knew that their plan had been a solid one given the circumstances, that they did kill Vecna, that Max was safe.

As Steve finally left for his shift at Family Video, he simply wished that Eddie was also safe.

[lucy-the-demon]

Warrior cats, a starless clan, book 5, wind review.

As always , spoilers for the series and for this book

Review down below

So I had to read it twice because the first time I read it I was in a bad mood and I was stressed out over things at the time so it kinda went blank one, through one ear (or eye because i don't use audiobooks) and out the other

So I re read it and looked at other reviews to fully grasp what was happened

I mean your gonna have to read this book to know that's going on in the 6th book but it's a lot of Filler so I'll give you the rundown of what happens first before stating my personal opinions on the book itself

Alrighty let's get this overwith..

* cracks open a pepsi*

So the book starts with Frostpaw going to the gathering to announce splashtail is a murderer and he shouldn't be riverclans leader and starclan told her it wasn't gonna end well

In previous books her visions weren't true until she actually started getting real vision from starclan And she had admitted her visions at first weren't true before she got real visions so the other four clans don't believe her when she mentions starclan speaking to her

Which is frustrating for the reader knowing Frostpaw is telling the truth.

So they call her a liar and splashtail exiles her from Riverclan for speaking against him, so tigerstar the 2nd let's her stay in his clan and the park cats that Frostpaw brought with her stay in thunderclan

Tigerstar the next day starts a clan meeting where he wants the cats to tell him their grievances, frostpaw speaks up at the meeting telling him that her clan suffered the most from him showing up and taking control, which makes the other cats speak up, afterwards he tells her that he was nice enough to let her stay but she tells him it was her clan who suffered and not his where he respects her for being strong and speaking her mind and afterwards she asks if she can sneak off to Riverclan tigerstar 2 tells her she can but she can't bring his warriors with her.

She accepts this than spies on the Riverclan camp where splashtail is doing battle training and finds out he hasn't gotten his nine lives yet, Mothwing catches her but doesn't say anything and goes to a spot away from the clan where they talk about how splashtail is running the clan. Mothwing admitting she doesn't like how his rule is going and when they talk about him getting his 9 lives Frostpaw gives the idea that hes gonna push it off until the other cats just accept it. Which scares Mothwing about starclan abandoning Riverclan making them 'a starless clan' as the title implies

So in sunbeams pov a few chapters later sunbeam and nightheart see a windclan patrol and breezepelt tells her that he saw berryheart and the other two near the windclan border and that berryheart looked bad which worries sunbeam. So she asks her leader, squirrelstar, if she can see if her family is okay, squirrelstar allows her but don't get caught.

Meanwhile on the half moon medicine cat meeting, frostpaw goes with shadowsight and puddleshine to the moonpool where the other cats question if she should stay but overall lets her stay podlight and mothwing show up and theirs a short argument between Frostpaw and podlight over whos the true medicine cat and podlight admits that splashtail hasn't been taken to the moonpool to revive his lives, to the dismay of the others But it ends shortly so they can visit starclan at the moonpool.

Frostpaw sees a vision of a shadow looming over the lake and the water draining which implies that splashtail is going to destroy Riverclan to the reader, but in-universe skyclan and Riverclan and windclan med cats dismiss this vision as Frostpaw is the reason for the destruction, where the other medicine cats take it seriously and say " if it was fake why would she make herself the shadow in Riverclan" (not the graphic novel)

Sunbeam visits her mom and sees she got a nasty cut on some glass and it's getting infected and later when she gets back nightheart is keeping watch for the medicine cats while sunbeam is getting herbs to help her mom. When alderheart and Jayfeather come back sunbeam tells him to stall them, where nightheart asks them about Frostpaw, which makes the med cats and him talk about the vision she got with squirrelstar, so squirrelstar and nightheart go to shadowclan

They talk about the vision and what Frostpaw saw while spying on Riverclan which makes them worried about where this was going

The next few chapters Frostpaw and puddleshine hide in a bush at the moonpool to see if splashtail went to the nine lives ceremony, he comes with podlight and they mock the ceremony unknowingly in front of the two med cats. Splashtail saying " if we see reedwhisker again I could kill him a second time" while the two mock the ceramony with no intention of actually doing it riverstar jumps out of the moonpool over the two toms and looks at frostpaw and puddleshine

The two toms joking about the ceremony don't notice him at all even as he jumped over their heads, while Frostpaw and puddleshine see him clearly and know that podlight is a fake medicine cat.

The next chapter ( I think) sunbeam gives the herbs to her mom and berryheart refuses, so sunbeams dad and brother say they'll put it in her prey to make her eat it. Sunbeams brother telling her she will need a medicine cat soon to prevent her from dying as her wound has gotten worse. Sunbeam makes a plan to get her mom to Jayfeather and alderheart in 3 days

But she gets caught by a windclan patrol as she goes home and has to stay in their camp for the night and so the next day squirrelstar is about to punish her before tigerstar 2 shows up and tells them about what frostpaw and puddleshine saw and squirrelstar wants to wait until they have windclans side because leafstar refused to hear tigerstar 2 and the med cats out

After tigerstar 2 and the shadowclan patrol leaves squirrelstar punishes sunbeam by not allowing her out of camp and to do apprentice duties. Which Sunbeam is upset knowing she can't help her mom get to a med cat in 3 days like she promised her brother she would

So 3 days later she asks nightheart if he could help them and he does but they didn't show up, nightheart says something like" it's probably because it's me" because y'know berryheart is a Karen who hates the fact her daughter loves nightheart a thunderclan cat while her daughter was shadowclan and shes bitter because she's a Karen

So anyways harestar( windclan ) says they'll think on their decision and when the gathering comes Frostpaw calls out how he mocked starclan at the 9 lives ceramony and splashtail ignored her and calls her a liar, where tigerstar 2 calls it out as well and they ask what harestars decision is and he's on splashtails side which crushes Frostpaw, and after the gathering two riverclan cats on Frostpaws side tell her they plan on turning more cats against splashtail which gives her hope.

And waffle becomes a thunderclan apprentice and becomes wafflepaw along with bristlekit, greykit and stem kit getting their apprentice names.

That night Frostpaw has a vision that a tree is going to crush the windclan nursery so she starts to go to windclan

Sunbeam is finally able to leave the camp again and is hunting with her patrol when a storm starts to come, they go into a bush and see frostpaw going through the territory she tells them she has to go to windclan and leaves to go to the border soon after going into the bush for shelter.

The patrol come back to the camp and Sunbeam and nightheart are working on securing the elders den putting branches up to help the elders from being cold.

Meanwhile Frostpaw sees a windclan patrol and tells them she needs to see kestrelflight the cats constantly shrug her off rudely until she tells them her vision of the windclan nursery getting crushed from a tree, since they don't have trees nearby they basically call her stupid but bring the med cat so she'll leave. Kestrelflight shrugs her vision off too, and Frostpaw instead of going back to shadowclan runs to thunderclan where she tells squirrelstar about her vision and gets help from nightheart and sunbeam

As they run to windclan lightning strikes a tree and a large chunk it it starts flying towards windclan and then crushes the nursery, whistlepaw trying to get in to save her sister leafkit with some work Frostpaw gets whistlepaw to get out and she does and has wounds.

They move enough branches for Sunbeam to get in and she rescues leafkit and gets her back to her mom unscathed

After a while of helping in the medicine den, kestrelflight apologies for how she acted to Frostpaw and forgives whistlepaw for lying to the clan that Frostpaw died seeing now why she did it And harestar finally believes Frostpaw has real visions and is the true medicine cat for Riverclan.

The day after they get back to their clans tigerstar talks to squirrelstar about the recent news with windclan and how they can't fight unless Riverclan takes action and Frostpaw plans to spy on them so nightheart and sunbeam offer to join her which she accepts

And wafflepaw tells nightheart how he let wasp go to Riverclan and the cats are freaking out, until Riverclan rudely gives back wasp and threatens them with violence if they catch another cat spying and wasp decides to go back to the park

So Frostpaw, Sunbeam and nightheart have to be careful to not get caught so they go the path through windclan and spy on Riverclan

Splashtail having cats use their claws on each other and it turns out mothwing, icewing and duskfur left Riverclan after they stood up against him and splashtail wants to kill them. Harelight asks him if he's being too harsh and splashtail kills him in front of their clanmates. Turns out berryheart joined Riverclan and splashtail makes her their deputy To the spying cats horror.

So now Frostpaw has to find the 3 missing cats before splashtail kills them too

And that's how the book ends

Actual review

So I kinda find it funny how berryheart is becoming the very thing she swore to destroy. And her being so hateful to other clans caused her to also want to be hateful to shadowclan. She's literally " you either die a hero, or live long enough to become the villain"

I forgot to mention but in the prologue splashtail says in his inner dialogue that he won't get his 9 lives because he thinks he shouldn't have starclans blessing, I think that will make him easier to get rid of than he thinks

And I doubt berryheart is going to become leader next book I think she's gonna die before she even thinks about it

So you know how curlfeather died to save frostpaw

Well I think berryheart gonna die saving Sunbeam

Remember how In the broken code bristlefrost saved rootspring from drowning and how at the end she died saving shadowsight?

And about who's gonna be riverclans leader, either mothwing, Frostpaw or bee.

Mothwing is My least favorite choice because she's cannonically an atheist and how she feels happy to be a medicine cat I feel like it would ruin her character

In thunder bee had visions about being near a bunch of cats they didn't recognize and perhaps that means he will be leader to Riverclan

And Frostpaw becoming leader sounds like a stretch but perhaps bee comes to Riverclan after berryheart and splashtail are dead and makes Frostpaw the leader without her needing a warrior name Because riverstar seems to have been giving her lessons on being a leader, and she seems much more like a leader as the books have gone on. The only issue is if she is going to become leader, who will she meet at the 9 lives ceramony? Not a lot of people in her life has died for it to make up 9 cats.

I guess we'll just have to wait till November when the book comes out

The only issue here is that the book feels frustrating knowing that Frostpaw is right and that the cats who are on splashtails side are wrong. It's a little frustrating to read and it makes you feel like these cats are stupid despite the fact it makes sense considering she acknowledged she used to have fake visions.

Of course they wouldn't believe her but it's still frustrating

And leafstar uncharacteristically is on splashtails side, despite often being on the side of the good Guys, I get it they needed conflict but idk.. I hope next book she realizes splashtail is the bad guy because jeez this isn't in character leafstar..

That's it bye..

[detective-giggles]

Comfortember prompts: Cold & Falling Asleep on Someone

Words: 931

Just a little Tarlos ficlet. @chaotictarlos thank you for letting me invade your messages over this fic! 😘

***

Carlos groans when he wakes up and realizes TK’s arms aren’t around him. Everything hurts, and he’s freezing. He rolls over and whines pitifully, trying desperately to burrow into TK’s space and absorb as much body heat as he possibly can.

TK lets out a soft chuckle as he stirs and pulls Carlos in for a snuggle, but he recoils almost immediately. TK puts his hand on Carlos’ cheek, then his forehead then sighs with sympathy as he pushes Carlos’ sweaty curls off his forehead. “Oh my god, baby, you’re burning up.”

“I feel terrible,” Carlos croaks. “My throat hurts.”

“Okay,” TK says, pushing himself out of bed. “Gimme a few minutes to get some things, and I’ll be back.”

“‘Kay,” mumbling, Carlos slides into the spot TK just vacated. He lays there shivering until TK returns a few minutes later, his arms full.

“I’ve called your doctor to get you an appointment,” he says. “There’s a nasty strep infection going around, and you’ll need antibiotics.” As TK talks, he takes Carlos’ temperature, frowning as it reads higher than he’d like. “Sit up for me; take these. They’ll help with your fever.”

Carlos pouts but complies, taking the Tylenol that TK offers him. “I’ll be okay,” he says. “I just need some extra rest.” Carlos flops back against the pillows and sighs, pulling the covers over his head.

“And maybe some tea with honey?”

Carlos pulls the covers down and stares at TK, “you brought me tea with honey?”

“I did,” TK says. “You’ll have to sit up again, though.”

Carlos grumbles but shifts and lets TK fuss, fluffing his pillows and propping them against the headboard before he leans against them and TK hands him his drink. “I’m going to be a terrible patient,” Carlos warns him.

TK chuckles fondly, “I think I can handle you. If not, I’ve discovered I can tame you with tea.” He watches as Carlos sips his drink slowly.

“Tea with honey,” Carlos corrects.

“Tea with honey,” TK smiles. “And I’ve already texted your mom for her soup recipe. The one you like when you’re sick?”

Carlos smiles bashfully, “you’d do that for me? That soup has to simmer for hours.”

“You would do the same for me.” TK presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m gonna shower, finish your drink, and then we’ll get ready to go.”

Carlos hums in agreement and watches TK disappear into the bathroom. He finishes his tea before getting up and starting the chore of getting dressed. It’s incredible how much effort even the simplest tasks take when you’re under the weather, Carlos realizes. While getting dressed, he has to stop twice to sit on the edge of the bed, and that’s where TK finds him with his socks still in his hand.

“Can I help you?” TK asks.

“I can dress myself,” Carlos insists, though he makes no effort to do so.

“I know, baby,” TK leans against the dresser and sticks his hands in his pockets, waiting for Carlos to finish getting ready. He does, grumbling the whole time, then stands. “Come on,” TK slips his arm around Carlos and leads him to the door.

Two hours, a throat swab, and a Z-pack later, Carlos collapses into bed, exhausted.

“Get some rest,” TK says, tucking the covers around Carlos. He closes his eyes and mumbles something unintelligible as he pulls the covers to his chin. He vaguely remembers hearing someone knock on the door; TK gives him a little kiss and then is gone, as Carlos drifts off to sleep.

***

Carlos wakes slowly and groans. He’s not quite sure how long he’s been asleep, but the sun is low enough in the sky, the room is basked in an orange glow. He’s still cold, and he’s still achy- even more so now that he’s laid in bed far longer than he’s used to.

He can already smell the soup on the stove, the ultimate comfort food, it smells like his childhood, and he slips out of bed. Grabbing the comforter, he wraps it around himself and makes his way toward the living room.

Carlos pauses just outside the bedroom door. He can hear voices in the kitchen, and he shuffles around the corner and rests his head on TK’s shoulder.

“Hey babe, you hungry?” TK asks gently. Carlos shakes his head, and Andrea clucks her tongue.

“Think again. He spent all afternoon at the stove making that for you. It’s perfect.”

TK lets out a little snort. “It’s not perfect. It’s too salty.”

“It’s perfect,” Andrea insists. She wraps both boys in a hug and presses a kiss to both of their foreheads. She makes them promise to call her if they need anything before trying to leave. TK offers to walk her out, but she declines, telling him to stay and watch over Carlos, and she lets herself out.

TK ushers Carlos to the couch, where he struggles to get comfortable, and then brings over two bowls of soup. TK thinks about turning on the TV to watch some cheesy movie they’ve both seen a million times, but they opt for a comfortable silence instead.

“The soup’s good,” Carlos says finally.

“It’s salty,” TK sighs, placing both empty bowls on the coffee table.

“It’s not. It’s good,” he insists.

“You should rest some more. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Carlos shakes his head. “Not tired,” he says, although his yawn gives him away. He settles heavily against TK, who holds him tightly, and in a few minutes, he’s out like a light.

[thatblondeperson]

So here’s the update.

My dad’s health has been in question for a while, but it’s taken a very very sharp turn. I’ve been waiting until the official diagnosis was given, and it has been confirmed to be a terminal lung disease called idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis.

Basically we think this started in 2020 when, pre-Covid, he had this viral infection that either exasperated existing minimal scarring in his lungs that had developed over time, or caused severe scarring in his lungs that has been progressing slowly, up until last year when it just escalated. 

When he got the viral infection in 2020, they thought it was pneumonia, but that was a bust, and since it was viral, they said it would just heal on its own. he spent a night in the hospital, and then that was that. He developed a persistent cough after that and it was found that he had a lot of fluid buildup in his lungs. This would also go away in a couple of years, they said. It didn’t. 

A couple years later, it starts getting worse. It had been stagnant for a while, but he took a road trip on Route 66 and there must have been something with the higher elevation he reached that once again exacerbated the scarring in his lungs, and accelerated his condition. We’re at a pretty low elevation here, so that makes sense. We started checking in with doctor’s who wanted him to do all these blood tests and it just wasn’t coming up with anything. he took another trip to Wisconsin for a family reunion and when he came back, he was NOT ok. 

Pretty rapidly he became almost immobile. He couldn’t walk around the house without needing to rest. They started testing for COPD, they gave him an inhaler that did nothing, he wasn’t sleeping because his coughing had gotten so much worse, and it was awful. They set him up for a breathing exam and he was turned away because it would have been a heavy stress on him just to breathe into a machine for 30 minutes. The guy asked if anyone had looked into his AFib possibly causing issues with his lungs and all the fluid. At this point my mom and I were begging him to go to the ER and he wouldn’t. Finally started asking for a cardiology appt and it was so far out, that my dad agreed to check in, and he was pretty much immediately admitted to the hospital.

The main goal there needed up being monitoring his blood pressure, and getting the fluid out of his lungs. My dad ended up losing 20lbs in his visit and his appetite was already severely low before this. I’m not even gonna touch on the complications he had after a polyp removal because no one needs to know that, but he’d already been losing weight, and he was starting to look pretty scary skinny. But once the fluid had been mostly dried up and his blood pressure appeared stable, the doctor’s were still considering a pacemaker before deciding to let him out. Well. Before he left, his heart stopped for 4.5 seconds, and then we had the pacemaker put in.

He did get to come home right after that surgery, but a few days later he took a  nasty fall that had me calling 911. One more night in the ER and we thought after that we were on the right track. I was taking time off to make sure he was OK before a trip I’d already paid for. We had him on Lasix to dry up the fluid in his lungs, and the pacemaker was keeping him from any other heart issues, besides the AFib of course. He was going to be put on oxygen, but they really thought they’d solved it so we had them take the stuff back. But he wasn’t getting better, and even after upping the Lasix dosage, he was still struggling.

He got some CT scans of his lungs done and we saw a pulmonologist who was shocked with how poor my dad’s condition was. His lungs were only working at about 35% capacity and the scarring...holy shit guys it was bad. He immediately had my dad go back on oxygen, but he was already recommending a lung transplant on this first visit. He figured it was IPF, but wanted to be sure. We’ve been doing lots of testing since then, even found very low risk prostate cancer during that time, but today in a 1hr and 40min appt, IPF was confirmed.

What does this mean? My dad is dying. 

With IPF, you’re looking at a 3-5yr lifespan on average. There is no reversing it without a lung transplant. He’s already probably had it for 3 years now so...obviously that’s not good. We’re literally discussing assets now. The lung transplant is a possibility, but the soft cutoff is 70yo, and my dad is turning 69 this year. not to mention, lung transplants are a long wait, with the highest rejection rate of any other organ transplant, and the rest of your life the lungs have to be constantly monitored to prevent rejection. That’s a lot to put him through, if we even can put him through it.

Today we were given a LONG list of blood tests he needs to get, about 80 of them, and several other things he needs to book including another colonoscopy and a dental exam???? All to see if he qualifies to even get the lung transplant. But before he can even get the transplant or maybe get on the list, we need to do radiation therapy for that low risk prostate cancer I mentioned. That’s gotta be gone before he can get a transplant. And this is all to say that even if he gets on the list, will he even get lungs??? And if he does, do we want to put him through a month long recovery stay at a hospital an hour away from us? What if complications come up and he dies? Like...if we’ve got little time left, what do we do with it? Do we try to extend it at an incredibly high risk at my dad’s age? Or do we just let him live it out and try to make the best of it? I don’t know.

This has been an intense weight on me. I’m doing my best to keep myself distracted, and lord knows my meds are doing most of the heavy lifting here because I haven’t cried yet. I did take more time off when we first found out that he was terminal and went full escapist and churned out a fanfiction faster than I ever have in my life but HEY, that’s at least a somewhat healthy coping mechanism.

Maybe it’s just not settling in because even with the oxygen, he seems ok right now, and it’s hard to think about the reality that my dad is dying, even though I’m already considering the memorial service we’d have, as well as asking him which car he would like his 3D printed urn to be modeled after. And all with a straight face, and with jokes, because it isn’t happening right now. He’s not dying, he’s fine. 

Except he is dying and the clock is ticking down faster than we expected.

Mom’s a wreck. We always knew she’d outlive dad, but just didn’t think it would happen so soon.

I don’t know what to do and yet I’ve been handling this like a pro. I’ve been an amazing help, a godsend my dad says. 

But this is all just a lot and I don’t know what to do. At least Elton has been amazing company for my dad, and he’s been so mellow and hasn’t once tried to chew the oxygen tubes, which I was afraid of. 

I just kinda wanna let it out, but idk really how. Someone take me to a rage room so I can just break a bunch of shit and scream for a while, please. 

[tehb3stsk4t3revr]

Howdy. Exactly what it says on the blog title, I am not gonna subject my mutuals to me posting roblox boys I am way too weak to own this interest publicly

Me:

Call me Kelly! He/Him. (Yeah bet you were probably expecting Kasper huh?)

I am an adult (under 30). This blog is rated T for Teens, I don't post NSFW (can't imagine where I'd find it anyway...) ✌️

I am at peace with sharing a fandom space with kids but if you're a minor uncomfortable with me commenting on your Regretevator art/posts, no prob! Boundaries are good, block if you gotta block!

This blog will mostly be Infected related, with some Lampert, Wallter, and Pest stuff mostly. Depends on what I find that I like?

This will be like 95% reblogs by volume but I do draw and post. Text posts and talking to other users tag is #Dead Guy Chatter, Art Tag is #Haha. I did that

Hi Kelly, Why Did You Reblog 30 Posts From Me Then Fuck Off Into The Sunset?:

I go post by post in the character tags when I'm bored at work, sorry lol

I guarantee that when I'm doing that I'm gonna forget that I already reblogged something and reblog it again like a week later. Take it as a compliment, I guess??? Your art is beautiful thank you for posting it

If I recognize something (or think I recognize it anyway...) that's a #D3j4 Vu r3bl0g. I just felt like reblogging again!

You might've also liked something from me so I backread through your blog until I ran out of attention span :D

You're on my DNI tho???:

It wasn't on purpose. I often forget to look at pinned posts before reblogging, especially if I got to your post from someone else's blog or a character tag. Again, block if it makes you feel better.

Blog Contents & Tagging:

Haiii, I'm A Shipper! ~(￣▽￣)~

I'm tagging Skaterlight with #Mah br41nr0t (I love my brainrot, it's a compliment!)

Partyskater is #P4rteh h4rd!

#The Unpleasant Ship Ever is for whatever the hell it is Jeremy and Unpleasant have going on, it makes me laugh.

Will add more ship specific tags to filter/binge if I need 'em but I don't rn.

I will not tag interactions between characters that seem like they're a non-romantic context. IDC if I or OP ships it. Infected and Lampert standing in the same room is not skaterlight unless they're calling each other pet names or makin' out or something. Exceptions being when I'm tagging my own art for reach.

There's no specific tag for Infected/Lampert vs Kasper/Lampert here; everything is just 'Skaterlight br41nr0t' to me. Happy to be corrected if there is actually a distinction I don't know about tho, I Strongly prefer Kasper/Lampert.

I love things that make me sad! (❁´◡`❁)

Injury tag is #0uch. Includes everything from heavy nosebleeds and vomiting to eye injuries, severe real life symptoms of illness, and cat death (o7 Poptart). I rarely reblog this stuff because I don't enjoy seeing characters I like get hurt, but sometimes the suffering feels In Character, idk.

Emotional Damage tag is #P41N and covers everything from relationship angst to implied offscreen death.

No I'm not tagging jokes about Mark and Wallter being divorced, they're hilarious and also canon lol.

Gross, this guy has boundaries! ( ಠ_ಠ )

Please tell me if someone I reblog from has a sketchy reputation. I'm not super involved in fandom drama and don't keep tabs on every controversy, but I want to be able to investigate for myself.

FleshCousins are a species of critter they're not sapient enough to like. Consent. I'm keeping my distance if you ship that or draw anything weird of one, idc if yours is a person, that is like... A parrot made of sewer hamburgers to me. ✌️😐

I am not proship, please leave me the fuck alone if you're into character relationship dynamics involving SA or other mad nasty stuff like that. There doesn't need to be a fight about it, I'll mind my business if you mind yours, kk?

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

I know everyone likes the "secretly good villain whumpee..." but what about when the villain was a rat- bastard with very few redeeming qualities... just being injured and sick and oh so broken. Just begging for mercy, even though they were so arrogant and vicious before.

I melt at those scenarios.

I agree with that. If the villain is secretly good, you might as well call him or her a hero- or at least a vigilante.

Vicious and Bloody

Warnings: gorey(?) description of injuries, maggots, blood, vomit, mention of people dying, pus, field medicine, bathing, vomit, sleep deprivation, pills (tylenol and ibuprofen), attempted murder, implied past torture, hallucinations, fever, delirium

~

There was no rational answer for the scene in front of her. Not even the greastest minds in history could comprehend it- figuratively speaking. It was just so peculiar, odd and out of place, that it was like from a different dimension.

The said scene would be absolutely mortifying to the squeamish soul. Between the blood and the vomit and the maggots, the sight was more than revolting.

But still, ignoring her instincts to gag and run, Civilian crouched down next to the poor man- not touching, of course, it would only irritate his injuries further and be disgusting on many levels.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Civilian asked the man softly, brushing back the part of his grimey hair that wasn't intoxicated by maggots or too much blood.

But in doing that, she realized that the man wasn't even conscious. Which, was not surprising and brought a small relief to the nervous civilian.

But it also revealed his identity. Even without the foreboding mask, his features unmistakably were those of the most feared and vile human of the city.

Villain.

"If you ever see Villain, call the heroes. If he so happens to be incapacitated, kill him or injure him further to limit his ability of escape or to destroy."

That mandatory lesson rang through Civilian's ears nearly as loud as semi's horn. It was every civilian's responsibility- whether they were a certified hero or not- to hand it or dispose of any being against the government.

Especially Villain.

Especially without any doubt Villain.

Civilian sighed and observed the injured man's face. It was her responsibility to do this, the city would thank her, applaud her.

She brought her hands to Villain's neck and squeezed. His breaths hitched, but he didn't wake, not even to the sensation of suffocation. Civilian squeezed her eyes shut, but it did nothing to rid her mind of the horrendous sight of his already crimson stained face growing even redder... his lips paling then morphing into a grayish blue...

Civilian gasped, drawing her hands away from his neck. The villain's eyes shot open as he tried to fill his lungs, but as he heaved and wheezed, they kept rolling up and sliding closed.

"Hey!" Civilian exclaimed, tapping his shoulder. Villain's eyes shot open and he looked at Civilian with an expression filled with the unthinkable.

Fear.

Villain's lip trembled as he tried his hardest to scoot away. He whimpered something unintelligently and weakly held up a hand as if to protect himself from futher harm- as if the shaking limb could do anything other than wave aimlessly in the air.

Upon coming to the conclusion that escape was impossible, the villain resumed a position of pointless mewling.

"Don't hurt me," he whined, tears streaming down his cheeks, making the small cuts sting and itch. "D-don't hurt me. I've been bad, please don't remind me. P-please." He shifted his head into his elbow and sobbed.

Civilian didn't know what to do with the scenario, so she just allowed him to cry until he was too exhausted to do anything other than whimper pained pleas.

When his eyes started to droop, Civilian wrapped her arms around his upper body and heaved him into a sitting position- somewhat shocked of how limp and pliable he was.

Then she stopped. What was she doing? Villain was the most notoriously evil person in the city, if not the universe. He killed hundreds, thousands even including men, women, and children. He was undeserving of any level of comfort, whether that be love, care, or compassion.

Yet someone had to be worse than him to put him in such a nasty condition.

"Don't hurt me," Villain whispered, clinging to Civilian's shirt with all his might- as little as that was.

"I won't," Civilian promised, smiling down at the injured villain. The villain sighed and closed his eyes.

She had to help him now. It would be practically illegal to turn him in, or harm him even further. Well, metaphorically speaking.

Civilian dragged Villain into her house. Luckily, she owned a one-story, so bringing him to the bathroom was not too big of a deal- apart from the exertion on her slender arms, that was.

Immediately, Civilian stripped off the remains of his tattered clothing and sat him in the tub. Gingerly, she washed out the infection wounds, making sure all the maggots were gone.

After thirty minutes, she only finished the lower half of his body and his back and shoulders were much, much worse. It took another hour to get done with those.

Civilian took a second to catch her breath, she didn't realize how diligently she was working. The villain was completely clean, other than countless uneven holes that looked like someone grabbed his skin and pulled it out.

The next line of business was whether or not to give him stitches. Many of the remainding wounds were heavily infected and would benefit from being dried out.

Many of those infected wounds needed to be drained and removed.

Civilian sighed, thinking of her nursing classes. She had school tomorrow...

Someone was dying.

Someone with the name of Villain.

Civilian ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. She ran in through the sharpener a couple times before heating it on the stove to remove bacteria. Here goes...

Civilian cut into one of the infected abscesses and carefully drained the pus out. She sighed and wiped her hands on a papertowel. She should really be wearing gloves...

Villain jerked, suddenly awakening with a shriek. His eyes saw the knife and he froze, staring at it for a long time, before erupting into unstoppable sobs.

"Don't hurt me! P-p-please don't... knife," he wailed, trying to curl into himself.

"Stop it," Civilian tried to reason, clenching her teeth, as she pulled Villain away from himself. He started to rock, back and forth... back and forth... back and-

"Hurts," he whimpered.

"I know," Civilian whispered, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm trying to help."

"No. Pain."

"No pain?" Civilian repeated, trying to make sense of what Villain's intent of the statically said statement.

"No pain," he murmured, resting his head against the tub. "Take away."

"I don't have anything for the pain," Civilian told him softly. "Some nyquil, but I'd rather give you tylenol for the fever."

Villain looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Please," he begged..

"It's just gonna make you tired, not take away the full extent of the pain."

Villain let out a strained sob and kicked out with his feet. Pouting in the most pitiful way.

"Just," Civilian sighed. "Just. It's gonna hurt."

Civilian leveled the knife to another wound and drained it. Villain writhed in the beginning, but stopped when he realized his fate.

By the time each major abscess was drained, Villain was barely conscious, his head lolling groggily against the bath tub. Civilian gulped. She would have to disinfect the wounds now, but she didn't have anything for it...

Salt water, a saline solution.

Villain's screams did not leave Civilian's memory for a while, even when he was finally asleep on the couch. Civilian aimlessly rubbed his hand, whispering to him as he slept, but it all felt wrong. So, so wrong. All the people he hurt never got the same level of care that he was receiving- as if they had any at all.

But at the same time, it felt right. None of Villain's victim's injuries were as extreme as his- they either died or went to the hospital. Whoever tortured Villain wanted him to suffer, not that Villain wanted people to not suffer...

Crap, this was confusing herself.

Civilian cared for Villain throughout the night. The open textbook on her kitchen table did not even remind her of her class in the morning. Nothing could, especially when someone so sick seeked her hospitality.

Villain's fever raged and he was fed more and more tylenol. Eventually, she started to put ice packs around his neck and major arteries, but he was still so, so miserable.

He started to hallucinate. Sometimes whimpering about a bat flying around his head, or laughing giddily. But one of these episodes really stood out to Civilian.

"Curve, curve," he muttered as his cheek rested against the mattress- for some reason he kept flipping himself to his stomach. "Fall."

"Then cave." The delirious, but intense gaze the villain had made Civilian wonder if he was trying to tell her something in his fevered state.

"Man hurt."

Civilian shushed Villain and gave him a quick sip of water with an ibuprofen tablet. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Don't hurt me," Villain whispered, scratching at the sheets. "Please."

"I won't, sleep."

Villain slowly, oh so slowly nodded as he allowed his eyes to slip closed.

Civilian took care of Villain as best as she could. She really needed to get supplies, but it was dangerous to leave the villain unattended as sick and injured as he was. Infection set in agai, fever rose...

Civilian groaned and rubbed her head. She had a horrible headache from stress and lack of sleep.

Maybe a short nap wouldn't hurt...

When Civilian woke up, seven hours later, she found Villain shivering on the ground with vomit all over him.

"Dangit," Civilian groaned and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

Just dangit.

[inkykeiji]

i’ll keep you in mind, from time to time

cactus anon said: had a little dream about daddy tomura, but it's when his princess gets sick... like very sick. seemingly out of nowhere. we know he's always cautious about your health and well being, so this is odd to say the least. you could have got it simply from getting the mail or sitting out on the balcony. well you see, daddy has a very strict rule when he's working - you mustn't disturb him when he's in a vital meeting. and you feel so ill that you know you can't just wait until he's done (whenever that will be - it's hard to tell sometimes). you feel like you have no choice but to ask for help 🥺 and there's not many people daddy would allow in his home to come see you when he's not present. except for... dabi...

genre: angst

notes: is this set in the bmb universe????? tbh, yeah, probably. i wrote this with bmb tomura and bmb dabi in mind (my mind just goes straight to bmb tomura the moment i see daddy tomura ehehe). do you need to read the monster that is bmb before reading this? absolutely not, since it’s technically a prequel of sorts! | title credit: moose blood’s first album ehehehe

warnings: sad boi dabi, very sick reader, it’s implied that tomura has cut her off from everyone she knows, pining, daddy kink, mention of drugs

words: 2.9k

Nestled under Tomura’s fluffy comforter and curled in on yourself in his mammoth bed, your silk babydoll sticks to your damp, sweaty skin, teeth clattering together so violently it’s almost painful, even though your flesh is scalding to the touch. It’s a surprise that Daddy can’t hear it, that incessant clackclackclack echoing down the vacant halls, a surprise he didn’t come running immediately—like he always does—at the sound of your pitiful little whimpers as you burrowed deeper into his mattress.

He must be really, really busy today.

And you know better than to interrupt him when he’s really, really busy.

But—But it all hurts so much, head pounding with such vigour you can barely see straight, muscles aching and weak, a loud whine escaping your lips as you roll over, groping around in the blankets for your phone. It’s too bright when you finally locate it, eyes squinting and a hiss catching in your throat as you bring the screen too close to your face, quickly scrolling through your contacts in a desperate attempt to find someone—anyone—to come to your rescue.

You know you should wait. Really, you should. Your Daddy is jealous, and protective, and possessive, and there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he’s going to be upset when he finds out that you called someone else to take care of you.

But—But it could be hours until Daddy’s done with his work—sometimes he spends the entire night in that stupid wood-paneled office, and you can’t risk it. It’s terrifying, this nightmarish illness that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, with its sudden onslaught of concerning symptoms worsening by the second, and you’re beginning to wonder if something is seriously wrong, the thought sending icy spikes of anxiety shooting through your veins.

No, you can’t risk it—you can’t wait.

A thumb hovers over your mother’s name in hesitance, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you consider. Her place isn’t necessarily close, but she’s the relative that’d be able to reach you the fastest—even so, it’d take her at least two hours to get here, and that’s assuming there’s no traffic on the roads. But she isn’t exactly fond of your boyfriend, and the last thing you want to deal with while feeling like you’re dying is a fight between the two of them. You know how nasty they can get.

So you keep scrolling, fingers halting for a second time as your best friend’s name flies past your eyes.

It’s been months since you last spoke—Tomura being the topic of your last conversation, of your last fight. You’re spending too much time with him, they had claimed, eyes cloaked in a glossy sheen of tears as they frenetically searched your face, almost begging you to understand. It’s unhealthy! It’s unnatural! They had said with a vicious shake of their head. He has you in a fucking chokehold, can’t you see that?

Eyelids squeeze shut tightly against the familiar burn of tears, their last few words echoing through your mind, bouncing off the walls of your skull and reverberating, louder and louder and louder—

No. You can’t do this right now, your head throbbing in retaliation, a painful lump nestling into the column of your throat. It’s too much, too much, and you don’t want to think anymore, can feel that neediness rooting deep at the core of your body, a longing to just be taken care of and nurtured, frantically scrolling back up as urgent eyes search the names blurring by on the screen. A gasp falls from your lips as his name whirs by, fingers scrambling to scroll back down and find it again.

Dabi.

Daddy trusts Dabi, doesn’t he? Daddy likes Dabi, right? They’re friends, aren’t they? Out of all of the people you just scrolled through, Dabi is evidently the best choice, the most correct choice, is he not?

Your thumb trembles a little as it levitates over his name—you don’t know him well, have only spoken a mere handful of words to him in the six months you’ve been dating Tomura, but...but he appears to be your only hope.

His voice is rough when he answers, abruptly cutting through the dull second ring, evident surprise bleeding into it when you whimper out your name, mumbled against the receiver. He regains his composure a moment later, tone hardening as he asks you why the fuck you thought it’d be a good idea to call him, of all people.

Tears blur your vision, sniffling a little as you explain the situation, frail voice breaking as you tell him about how you’re terrified you’re dying, and Daddy’s too busy, and last time—last time you interrupted him you got in real big trouble, and he’s your only hope, you need him, and please, Dabi?

And God, he’s chuckling into your ear, low and hoarse and inspiring a flock of butterflies to soar through your stomach, a sensation you swear is from whatever sickness has infected your body. You’re so lucky you’re fucking cute.

He hangs up directly after that, doesn’t spare you a second to respond, arriving at in penthouse in ten minutes flat, and you’re not sure you’ve ever been happier to see his tattooed face.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes when he sees you, curled up beneath the fluffy comforter, strands of hair shining with sweat and sticking to your skin. Pace quickening, he places his knuckles against your forehead, your sore eyes slipping shut at the cool relief his skin provides. A sharp hiss slips through his clenched teeth and he yanks his hand back, a soft whimper getting caught in your throat as you try to follow his touch.

A head of inky tousled hair shakes back and forth as he hastily leaves Tomura’s bedroom. Glass and ceramic clink together, the sound echoing down the hall, as Dabi roots around in the kitchen, swearing softly to himself when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

A cup of water is in his hands when he returns a few moments later, aspirin clutched in his other fist, still muttering under his breath about the thermometer not being where it’s supposed to be, and why the hell doesn’t Shigaraki have any cold and flu meds like, at all?

Perching on the edge of Tomura’s bed, he acts as if it’s such an inconvenience to him, as if he’s so annoyed that you’re sick and needy, but he really doesn’t hide it well enough. Because you see through his thinly veiled act even in your inebriated state—see the concern in his sapphire eyes as his eyebrows push together just a little, a tiny crease forming between them, see the way the corners of his lips keep pulling downwards with every single one of your pathetic little noises. A heavy sigh leaves his chest a moment later, body shuffling towards you, cobalt eyes still saturated with worry.

A large hand pets your sweaty hair, soft and gentle as the other tilts a glass of full water towards your lips, Dabi’s deep voice startlingly soft as he orders you to drink, princess.

And he doesn’t mean for the nickname to slip out, tells himself he only used it because he’s so accustomed to hearing Tomura use it—accustomed to hearing Tomura overuse it—panic’s sharp claws gripping his heart the moment it leaves his lips. But you seem too sick, too delirious, to notice or care, obediently swallowing the pills just like he told you to.

Good girl.

The praise just slips out too, those two simple words falling from his lips unconsciously, involuntarily, uncontrollably, and he chooses to focus on the fact that you drank the entire glass instead of the cute noise you make in response to his commendation, a trembling hand placing the empty cup on the oak bedside table.

The mattress dips as he prepares to get up, to move away, to put some much needed, necessary distance between the two of you, but a small, clammy hand catches his forearm, his entire body freezing in shock, stiff and still like a marble statue.

Sapphire eyes snap to the tiny hand gripping his arm, hyper-aware of the heat radiating off the sticky palm and seeping into his skin, and then dart to your face, wide and frenetic. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? he wants to snap, words turning to ash on his tongue. Because, Christ, you look like you’re about to fucking cry, staring at him through your lashes with those terrified eyes, begging him softly, shyly, not to leave.

“I’m not leaving,” he says with a roll of his eyes, yanking his arm free from your weak grasp, a soft whine escaping your lips as you grope the air for him again. “I’m 90 percent sure you have a dangerously high fever—there’s no way I’m going to leave you on your own until your asshole of a boyfriend is done doing whatever the fuck he’s doing. I’m just gonna move to that chair over there—”

“No!” you gasp, coughing on the word in your haste to reach for him again. “Please, stay, here,” you look down at the bed pointedly, gazing drifting back to his a moment later. “H-Here, with me,”

Dabi isn’t stupid. He knows Tomura will be seeing red the moment those scarlet eyes meet ice blue when he re-enters his bedroom from a day full of sifting through documents and yelling on conference calls. But when your boss’s plaything, his most prized possession, calls you in tears blubbering about how she’s sure she’s about to fucking die, well—coming by to take care of her is the lesser of two evils, don’t you think? Really, Tomura should be thanking him.

But Tomura returning from a day full of sifting through documents and yelling on conference calls to meet ice blue in his bed, next to said prized possession? Well, that’s a different story entirely.

He’s frozen as he mulls over it, your blunt nails digging soft, tiny crescents into his flesh, little marks that will fade only a few moments after you let go.

“I can’t do that,” he says softly, almost regretfully, and his tone of voice surprises him, startles him, scares him. Clearing his throat, he steels himself, pulling free from you again. “It isn’t right,”

“Please, Dabi,”

He’s sure you don’t miss the sharp, sudden intake of air sucked through his mouth when those two words leave your lips. He’s positive of it, because then you do it again.

“Please, Dabi,”

Your voice is softer this time, and the look he gives you is nearly heartbreaking, the perfect picture of a man being torn apart from the inside out, tortured and beautiful all at once.

“I—”

“Just until I fall asleep?” You try to bargain, bottom lip pushing out into an involuntary pout. Crystal eyes hold yours for a second longer before he sighs, chest heaving with the force of it.

He isn’t happy about it, about his apparent inability to say no to you, grumbling about it the entire time—you’re such a little fucking brat, y’know that? and only until you fall asleep, understand?—as he settles back against Tomura’s stupidly massive headboard, body going rigid and words hitching in his throat the moment you latch onto one of his thighs, nuzzling your face into his hip.

And really, he should tell you to get the fuck off of him. He should push you away, scold you for such behaviour, remind you that it’s wrong. He should. He wants to.

But he doesn’t.

Because he can’t.

The realization has his heart pounding against his rib cage, breath stilling in his lungs and then accelerating, escaping his nostrils in short, quick huffs, lithe fingers curling in the cotton sheets underneath him. Don’t be a fucking coward, his inner voice growls at him, berating himself for such disgusting weakness. It doesn’t matter if she’s fucking sick, that isn’t an excuse!

Because that’s why he can’t find his voice, right? That’s why his fingers are twitching with the need to comb through your hair and caress you jaw, right? That’s why your cheek, burning hot through his black jeans as it snuggles into his upper thigh, sends a whole slew of unfamiliarity—excitement and terror and all sorts of things he doesn’t know how to explain, can’t begin to explain—rushing through his body, right?

Yes, that’s why. Of course that’s fucking why.

The thoughts cycle through his mind like a mantra, as if repeating them enough times, branding them into the tissues of his very brain itself, will make them true.

That’s why he allows you to sleep on him. That’s why his stomach flutters at the way your tiny fingers curl in the denim of his jeans as they readjust, pulling him closer. That’s why it feels like a zap of electricity buzzes through his veins as you murmur his name in your sleep, whimpering a little as your leg hitches over his calf.

That’s why. He’s sure of it.

His head snaps up the moment the double doors fly open, and he’s never been more relieved to see his boss’s face in his life.

Those crimson eyes scan the room twice—the first time quick, frantic and furious, the second slow, cold and calculating—before they finally connect with cobalt, gaze blazing.

“Care to explain to me what the fuck is going on here?”

“Oh thank God,” Dabi breathes, words slipping from his lips subconsciously, body shooting off of the bed as if the mattress had pierced him, his movements jolting you awake. “She called me,” he snaps before Tomura can speak again, bewildered ruby eyes darting between the two of you. “She’s sick as a fucking dog, boss,” the words are spit between clenched teeth, all those nasty feelings, the feelings delayed by you, no doubt—anger, hate, jealousy, melancholy—finally surfacing, bubbling and boiling in the center of his chest. “She was too scared to interrupt your work, so she called me,”

And Dabi can see it, the vicious jealousy that flashes in Tomura’s eyes, can see the way it makes his jaw clench, makes his molars grind together, makes his breath slice through the air with each sharp exhale through flared nostrils.

“Daddy,” you whine, tears collecting in your eyes, glimmering in the golden sunlight as it sinks beneath the horizon. “D-Daddy, it hurts, it hurts so much,”

All of the derision etched so deeply, so firmly into Tomura’s face melts away in an instant as you make grabby hands for him, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and leaving gleaming trails of salt water in their wake, little half-sobs of that stupid pet name hitching in your throat.

“Now that you are no longer preoccupied,” Dabi draws Tomura’s attention back towards himself, raising an eyebrow in challenge, daring his boss to retaliate. “I’ll be leaving. I trust that you can take care of her now, yeah?”

The words are practically snarled out, almost patronizing in tone, but he doesn’t wait for a response, tucking his head down as a shoulder knocks against his boss while stomping out of the room, heavy boots echoing throughout the quiet penthouse. Eyes squeeze shut tightly as he tries to ignore Tomura’s gentle coos, tries to ignore your cute, pathetic little wails and whimpers of Daddy, Daddy!, tries to ignore the sudden inexplicable ache that sears through his chest, settling deep at the core of his body and throbbing.

He can still smell you on his fucking skin, dainty notes of tiger orchid and toffee clinging to him. He promises himself he’ll hop in the shower and scrub any remnants of you off his flesh the moment he steps foot in his own apartment. He vows to himself that he’ll will this stupid, irksome feeling away—that he’ll rid himself of this irritating worry and unfamiliar concern the moment he gets home.

But he doesn’t.

Because he can’t.

Because no matter how hard he tries, he’s unable to get you out of his head, soft needy whines of his name and perfect pouty lips invading his mind like a virus, infecting all of his thoughts, worming their way through his brain like some sort of invasive parasite.

The whole excursion lasted a mere two hours, even though Dabi was sure he spent the entire day with you in that bed, leaving nearly his entire evening free, just like he wanted.

That is what he wanted, isn’t it?

Of course it is. Of course.

So why does he spend the entire night wondering if you’re okay, if Tomura is taking good care of you, if he called his personal doctor to come check and diagnose you? Why does he waste hours typing out a short text message to send to you, only to erase it and type it out again, over and over and over, chewing his bottom lip raw in the process? Why does he dream of you that night, of soft smiles and glittering eyes, cute giggles and tiny palms burning his skin, gentle whispers and Please, Dabi?

Why?

And he should be shoving these feelings away, should be burying them deep within himself, should be numbing them with soft white powder and pretty white pills, should be forgetting them.

But he doesn’t.

Because he can’t.