#ive never had this bad of a reaction before i think i got SICK with a cold on top of all of it

[magioffire]

cant smell,,,cant taste,,,,,,this is so homophobic

[ooctlt]

I think the etiquette of ask blogs is a forgotten art. what I'm saying is (imo) it's not that people don't want to play, it is they don't know HOW, and more importantly they don't understand that the game exists to begin with. obviously you do not have to teach people the rules because your time and energy is finite but idk. it feels like from some of your OOC responses that you assume people know the rules and are playing badly, but I genuinely think people (me) just don't know what you are wanting them (us) to do. and also they (i) don't know how to tell if they (i) are playing the game correctly.

An example I am genuinely confused about is, is inciting a "shut up" answer a signal that the game is being played correctly, because we are inciting a reaction from the character? or is a "shut up" answer a signal that we are playing wrong and need to do something different? I'm sorry. I really love your art and seeing the story unfold but I'm confused and I want to play and I don't understand how.

yeah ive had a couple people tell me this has been the first active askblog in a while and the concept of askblog etiquette has been forgotten- @thatneoncrisis and i made a diagram:

link to full-res image

a "shut up" reaction will hopefully show whether or not it's a closed path of exploration: if you have gideon sweating, going "pshhh its nothinggg" it means there is something worth exploring. if you have harrow slamming the door in your face, that is an advance that wont work on her

transcript under the readmore:

DEAD END QUESTION ANON: CAMILLA DO YOU THINK HARROW'S HOT?

"Please stop talking to me."

This question is BAD because it's BLUNT, INCREDIBLY PERSONAL and founded on INCOMPLETE KNOWLEDGE of their relationship.

NOTE that its not that shitty questions will NEVER be answered, its that 1) they have a LOWER chance of being answered and 2) they have a HIGHER chance of being made fun of in character

gideon: haha who thinks harrow is HOT

DECENT INCONSEQUENTIAL QUESTION ANON: CAMILLA DO YOU LIKE TO DO ANYTHING FUN WITH HARROW?

"Sure. We run a lot of errands together."

This kind of question may not advance the plot, as it is INCREDIBLY BROAD yet NONINVASIVE. They're good for quick 1-3 panel answers. May generally be met with a less EXCITING answer.

It might also be DIFFICULT TO ANSWER because a broad question could include MULTIPLE ANSWERS - asking "do you guys go out" could not be answered SUSTAINABLY, because i cannot draw all the places they visit

ANON: EVERYONE, WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CLOUD / WATER / MOLECULAR STRUCTURE / BONE / CAR / COFFEE BRAND/ BOOK CHARACTER?

me: "i have to do so much research"

NEAT QUESTION CAMILLA HAS HARROW EVER ASKED YOU TO DO SOMETHING WITH HER SHE WAS EXCITED ABOUT?

"Yes, actually. She once invited me to [REDACTED], I didn't know she liked that sort of thing."

This question is SICK AS FUCK because not only do you learn something SUBSTANTIAL about the characters, you have stumbled upon A NEW PLOT BRANCH, one that actively deepens character connections and their past within the world. It specifically remarks upon a MEMORY* rather than AN OPINION and will typically be LONGER.

Another good option is to PROMPT something following this:

ANON: CAMILLA, MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY TAKING HARROW OUT TO DO [REDACTED] THAT SHE LIKES BEFORE XYZ?

and this can then spiral onward…

*DM, ONE TIME I ASKED ABOUT A MEMORY AND I GOT A RUDE ANSWER; WHAT DID I DO WRONG?

It's not that this topic can never be spoken about, it's about WHEN you asked it and HOW you said it, or even WHO you asked.

Some topics, like the nature of HARROW AND GIDEON'S UPBRINGING are too recent for them to talk about, it has only been TWO YEARS since they left and there are SPECIFICS about the situation that the AUDIENCE hasn't discovered yet. There are things like GIDEON'S PARENTS that she CANNOT answer because she DOESN'T KNOW and answering multiple asks with I DON'T KNOW becomes repetitive and dull for both the DM and PLAYER.

BUT! She can learn! Over time, when the time is appropriate and feels the most natural for STORY PROGESSION. Think of it like a BAD ENDING in a visual novel. You START OVER and ask a DIFFERENT QUESTION, or approach it from a DIFFERENT ANGLE. If Gideon reacts poorly to someone congratulating her leaving BAD CIRCUMSTANCES, consider talking to her about the FUTURE. Instead of trying to pry at Camilla to see if she had an INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP with Pyrrha, try to ask about other things in that period of her life, like how they met or what caused her to move out.

FINALLY, if you'd like an ask to be answered out of character, your best bet would be to goto @notedchampagne and send it there. If you'd like an ask to be answered SINCERELY or you don't want SNARK, you can specify this in the ask, but know this blog may not be your thing.

[fleet-admiral-hiba]

Got pretty sick again for awhile but ill try to give you some ideas lmao

We get food poisoning but some of the others suspect it was one of the chefs who did it purposely as they have shown no liking to us?

this would be for the fox series lmao

anywho, I’ll put in more requests once I think of something

-Simon

Hopefully you'll recover soon man, I'm starting to miss your wild ideas.

BITTER ALMOND

It was a day like the other, but you weren't feeling all that good. At first you thought you were simply tired, feeling a bit sleepy and all from having just eaten.

But the others weren't so sure. You were looking a tad to pale, sweat starting to coat your skin. You were feeling nauseous, true, and a bit woozy. "Kitten, are you alright?" Asked Pulcinella, noticing your face contorting in pain.

You clutched your stomach, whimpering while cramps ravaged your body. Something wasn't right.

An allergic reaction? Possible, given that there were seafood in the dish.

"Cub,look at me a moment" said Dottore, while checking your temperature. Your fever was rising, and he could feel the muscles of your abdomen contracting.

"Here, drink this" he gave you a purple colored vial, and it tasted bad. But you bravely downed the content.

Moments later, the cramps started to subside, at least you weren't in so much pain right now. "The verdict?" asked Pierro, while covering your trembling body with his coat.

"Food poisoning most likely. But I wouldn't overrule a possible food allergic reaction" he said, while rubbing your back.

Your nausea was increasing, and you run to the nearby bathroom. You hated feeling sick. It left you trembling and dizzy.

Childe was already running after you, comforting you through the ordeal. He saw how confused and dazed you were becoming and he alerted Dottore.

"Let's take him to bed. The vial will do the rest, dispersing the toxins. But I'll need to attach an IV to make sure he doesn't get dehydrated" he said while accompanying the ginger.

"What if it was more than that? I hear rumours about one of the cooks not liking our little one. I think this was an intentional poisoning. The symptoms match " quipped in Arlecchino and Pantalone. They had done enough poisoning themselves to know that by now.

"The only thing left to know, apart from the motive is what kind of drugs they used" said Capitano.

"Why?"asked Sandrone, curious to see where this was going. "Because,there are different types of poisonous substance that will either make him feel like rubbish for some time or lead to a slow painful death. Or worse, it will leave him with some lasting damage" explained Columbina, while twirling a knife in her hand.

They all continued to speculate before a clone of Dottore came in with news. "I have some good news: y/n will pull through without much issues. He will feel woozy and tired for a few days. But the drug found in his blood was a mix between a paralytic and a toxic chemical" finished Omega, before leaving the report and exiting the room.

Bloodlust rose quickly. They all knew what that meant. "Let's have a chat with the cooks, and see who the pest is. I feel like doing some cleaning" announced Arlecchino.

Well that week had been interesting. Some cooks were missing, while you rested. You were still overcome by fever and shivers, but nothing too serious.

Although you avoided eating for a long time after that. Only your uncles and aunties could get you to eat food that had been checked before by them.

Hopefully,it will never happen again.

But until then, there's always space for a new Ruin Guard.

[violencebian]

i just realized how deeply embedded i am in toxic positivity

[brackenfur]

au starting from lost stars/one non canon event mentioned but i cant stop thinking abt a scene where bramblestar slips up abt thinking abt killing firestar in sunset n how squirrel would react to that. this is a very quick drabble aka its not rly thought out or edited, i jsut needed to write and get it out somewhere ! i also cant rly definitively say that everything abt bramblestars version of events/what squirrelflight knew abt the foxtrap scene is canon-accurate since its been a minute since ive read tnp + that time period is extremely muddled in terms of which author writes it and what any cat outside of bramblestar ACTUALLY knows.

anyways tysm for reading <3

"i've sacrificed everything for this relationship, for you," bramblestar snaps, eyes that were at one moment dim and exhausted from his oncoming illness now alight with anger. "you don't even know how much pressure i was under all those years ago, after we got back together and i became deputy. i was dealing with my new position, with thunderclan's mistrust, with hawkfrost telling me to-" and he stops dead in his tracks, eyes widening just slightly as he realizes he let something slip.

squirrelflight blinks, deeply uncomfortable by his reaction. she knows that he and hawkfrost kept communicating after she and bramblestar got back together, and she knows to this day that hawkfrost never had good intentions - but there is something about the way bramblestar looks away from her, how his fur prickles along his spine, that makes her think there's more to this story.

"hawkfrost telling you to what?" she tries to keep up her bravado and confrontational tone so he doesn't detect how disturbed she's becoming, but her voice wavers. "what are you talking about?"

"nothing," he says too quickly, shaking his head. "it doesn't matter. i'm tired, squirrelflight; this leafbare is the worst i've seen, and i'm not feeling my best, either. you know that - i've been so sick, and-"

"yes, you are sick, and i've told you to rest," she reminds him, cutting him off. "and i'm sorry about that, but what are you talking about with hawkfrost?"

"i said it was nothing."

"it doesn't look like it was nothing."

bramblestar sets his jaw, shaking his head. "you know how he was. i was just going to say that he was just trying to pressure me to stop talking to you, that's it."

it doesn't feel like that was it. she has no love for hawkfrost and doesn't particularly care that he didn't like her much either - but bramblestar wouldn't be so upset and secretive about something that trivial. there's more.

"you're not telling me something," she says finally. "i know you - or, i mean, i think i know you. you're hiding something from me about hawkfrost, and i swear to starclan - we just had a conversation the other night about being truthful."

"i've always been truthful."

"it seems like you're not right now, though. i've laid out all of my secrets and told you every bad thing i've done - i've let the whole forest know my demons. not by choice, but what's done is done. there's something you're not telling me about hawkfrost - and don't tell me he didn't like me, we all know that. what was he telling you to do?"

he twitches his whiskers. "squirrelflight, you need to drop it."

this just makes her more angry. "i've told you everything i've done and you're always going on about how we need to stay truthful to each other to make this work - whatever it is, i'll listen to you about it. i know how hawkfrost was - did he want you to take over the forest, or something? i know he talked to mudclaw about things like that; he wasn't subtle about his plans to be tigerstar junior."

bramblestar looks deeply uncomfortable. "i didn't do what he wanted me to do, you know i didn't," he finally says after what seems like an hour; she blinks, unsure of what he's talking about.

"what do you mean? like...yeah, you didn't take over-"

"he wanted me to become thunderclan's leader. that's it. now, please, just drop it."

she frowns. she kind of expected that, but there's....a deep shame in his eyes, and she thinks there's an element to this story he's not saying. he's being evasive and private, and her heart begins to beat harder when she really, really thinks back on all those years ago.

a memory surfaces, one that she always thought about with pain and yet an underlying feeling of pride - for brambleclaw, for her mate, for saving her father....

it hits her then. she always thought that the foxtrap was brambleclaw's moment of undying loyalty to her father - stumbling upon hawkfrost about to kill firestar, and immediately jumping to his defense. that's always how he told it, anyways; he knew what hawkfrost wanted to do, and put an end to it.

but there were always these underlying moments that she couldn't quite place over the years - some type of underlying shame and embarrassment that she just chalked up to grief for his brother.

they look at each other, and she tries to keep calm. "when you found my father in the foxtrap," she says slowly. "did you think about letting hawkfrost kill him?"

bramblestar's beat of silence is all she needed to know; he immediately tries recovering it, though.

"squirrelflight, i would've never done that- hawkfrost and tigerstar were-"

"tigerstar? what does your father have to do with this?"

bramblestar is very quiet; she thinks that the world around them is completely silent as they stand in the middle of a snowy clearing. the cold usually heightens the sounds in the air, but in this moment all squirrelflight can hear is the thudding of her own heart.

bramblestar seems like he's trying to piece his thoughts together carefully; she forces herself to wait until he finally says: "i was never going to do it," he says, voice tight with emotion. "squirrelflight, i loved your father - you know that." she can barely hear him anymore as she finally grasps what exactly he's telling her. "my father and my brother- you've heard about how they are from lionblaze and ivypool and the others that went to the dark forest, how could i have- they were my family once, i thought that maybe-"

so that was his big secret, the one that he never meant for her to uncover. everything makes a little more sense now; the guilt and shame in bramblestar's eyes for those first seasons after hawkfrost's death whenever he'd look at firestar, the overcompensation bramblestar tried to preform as deputy. it wasn't because he felt like he allowed his brother to cause harm to firestar before saving him, it was-

"hawkfrost told you to kill firestar," she says softly, looking up at her mate. "but that- if it was just that, you would have told me, not lead me to believe that hawkfrost was the one who wanted to do it all along," she feels herself shaking as the shame begins to come back into bramblestar's expression. "you thought about, didn't you? about killing my father so you could become leader?"

bramblestar gives one moment of hesitation, and she shakes her head.

"i'm going to be sick," she says quickly, stepping away from him.

"i didn't hurt him. it wasn't-"

"this whole time, you've shamed me and made me feel like the worst cat that's been born because i kept a secret for my sister," she almost spits, her fur raising. "i don't know if i was morally right or wrong, i don't know what anyone else would do in my paws during that time - but you made me feel like i was worthless for a year because i protected leafpool, and now i finally get to know that you not only met up frequently with tigerstar but that you actually- you thought about killing my father. you thought about hurting firestar just so you could become leader."

ashfur's jibe all those years ago suddenly makes more sense - after the fire, the way he bumped into her with his shoulder and sneered you don't really even know your own mate, do you?

who knew that even after all this time after his death, ashfur still got the last laugh.

[slasherhaven]

I dont think ive see smth like this in your blog and im really sorry if im crossing a line, you dont have to do this but if you could, could you do vincent and any other slashers youd like with a unplanned pregnant s/o? Like they werent expecting it, how would they react? Im sorry again if this is too specific and out of your comfort zone!

The Slashers’ and their S/O reacting to an unplanned pregnancy:

Thomas Hewitt

A pregnancy can only be good news to Thomas (unless you know it’s going to put your health at risk).

He noticed that something wasn’t right but you both just thought you were sick. It was Luda May that pulled you to the side, telling you that you might be pregnant.

But you both agreed to not tell Thomas until you had taken a test and were positive, you didn’t want him to freak out over nothing.

When you tell him, you are nervous about his reaction since neither of you had talked about it. Even if Luda May had been hinting about grandchildren.

But as soon as you tell Thomas that you’re having his child, he is overjoyed!

He wants to be a father, to have a little family of his own. So what if it wasn’t planned? That doesn’t matter, he still wants this.

He’s smiling, placing a large hand on your stomach (even though you aren’t showing yet).

If you’re still worried about this unexpected turn of events, he would be there to comfort you and reassure you. Don’t worry, Y/n. He’s going to take good care of you and your child.

Michael Myers

You had every reason to be nervous about telling Michael about your pregnancy. You loved him, you really did, and you knew that he loved you but he wasn’t the most...nurturing person.

You really didn’t know what he would think or how he would react. 

Even if you don’t think he’s the monster people think he is, a part of you worries that he’d just leave if he decided this wasn’t what he wanted.

But you had to tell him, he was going to find out eventually anyway.

Just as usual, your announcement is met with stoicism. The emotionless mask doesn’t help either. But this is one of the main reasons he wears the mask, so nobody can guess what he is thinking.

He wonders if you’re scared that they’ll turn out like him. Would you love them anyway, just like you love him?

He decides that he’s not going to be a good father (whether that’s true or not is a possibly debatable) but he also decides that he is staying put.

You’re going to be caring for this child, right? 

You do notice that he’s much more gentle with you at all times. Maybe he cares more than he likes to show...

Jason Voorhees

You weren’t all that nervous about telling Jason about the pregnancy, you knew he would be there for you both and you knew he would be a good father.

When you told him, Jason definitely had to sit down. You’re pregnant? You’re both having a child. 

This is big news! His mother would be so proud!

After wrapping his head around it, Jason will pull you into an embrace. He’s going to be good for you, Y/n!

He hadn’t thought about starting a family with you until now but he quickly decides that he likes the idea lot. He likes the idea of raising a child with you, of being a father. 

And he’s going to do his absolute best to be the best father for his child. He’s excited to be taking this step with you.

Time to babyproof the cabin!

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms had noticed that something was right, he thought that you were sick. You did at first but eventually you realised what might actually be happening. So, you got a pregnancy test in the next delivery.

You didn’t want to say anything to Brahms until you were completely sure.

Turns out, you were pregnant and now you had to tell Brahms.

He’s not too pleased at first...neither of you had talked about this, he hadn’t even thought about having children. He doesn’t like surprises and he doesn’t like that he’s going to have to compete for your attention.

He might even sulk about it but he’ll slowly come around to it.

You’re having his child...you’re going to be parents...together...maybe this isn’t so bad.

He definitely needs some time to warm up to the idea but he will eventually, probably reluctantly apologising for how he acted.

Bo Sinclair

Haha, good joke...

...you are joking right? Right, Y/n?!

Well...okay, he guesses. It’s not like he could do anything about it now.

He’s going to pull away from you slightly at first, because he’s doubting his own capabilities as a father. He isn’t meant to have a partner, he isn’t meant to have a kids, a family, any of this...and yet here you were.

He stop pulling away eventually and make up for it. However, he becomes more attentive, more protective. Is pretty much going to try to turn you into a housewife type of partner. 

But it’s not like he’s going to be doing all the chores just because you’re pregnant.

If you’re down for that, great! If not, just tell him to relax. You’re pregnant, not dying. 

He’ll ‘deal with it’ but warms up to the idea more and more as the pregnancy progresses.

Vincent Sinclair

Is he surprised and worried about his abilities as a father? Completely. 

Is he going to let that get in the way of doing the best he can? Definitely not.

He’s in awe of you. He loves you so much and you love him, you’re going to have his child...

Just places his hands on your stomach even though you’re not showing yet, there is a baby in there, his baby. God, he loves you so much.

He hadn’t thought about children, this definitely wasn’t planned but if he was given the choice to change it, he wouldn’t even consider it.

He going to be pretty anxious about it though. Both for the future and wondering if his child will like him, but also for the present. He’s so worried about you getting hurt, he fusses over you all the time, but it’s sweet.

Lester Sinclair

You told him just after you found out, when he had come home and didn’t have anything else to distract him. You could just sit down and tell him and the two of you could talk about it for as long as you needed too.

Gets a little frantic when you tell him.

First he’s pulling you into a kiss because: this is great news! He’s going to be a dad! And you’re the one having his baby! He couldn’t be more thrilled!

But then he’s holding you at arms length, eyes wide as he asks you if he can do this.

He goes through every emotion in the book in under a minute. Just let him go through it and once he’s calmed down, assure him that he’s going to be a great dad.

Because he will be!!!

Bubba Sawyer

Raising a child in the Sawyer household would be chaotic to say the least and that was probably the main cause of your anxiety, since you knew Bubba would try his absolute best to be an amazing father and to be there for you.

You need to collect yourself before you tell him, because you’re going to need to calm him down and reassure him.

When you tell him, he is going to freak out a little. He’s just worried about what this means, are you going to be okay, is he going to be a good father, this house isn’t safe for a child!

Once you’ve calmed him down, he’ll actually be pretty excited about the idea of having a child.

The two of you will have your own little family! 

He’s going to give you lots of hugs and kisses while babbling happily, he loves you so much and can’t wait to have this baby now!

Billy Lenz

You knew this was going to be messy. Billy hadn’t exactly shown many signs of responsibility at all and he doesn’t really seem like the fatherly type. Not that he doesn’t have the love to give, you know he does. Just the idea of him raising a child...it’s not something that either of you considered.

But you were definitely pregnant, it was definitely Billy’s baby, and you were definitely going to have to tell him.

When you do tell him, he panics.

He can’t be a father! What?!

Yeah, he’s really freaking out. You’re going to have to comfort him and calm him down, assuring him that everything is going to be okay.

Billy’s just kind of rolling with punches. He really doesn’t know how he’s going to be a father but he loves you so much, so this is just something you’re going to do together. 

He figures that as long as you’re there, he’ll be okay, you’ll make sure that everything is okay. 

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Yes, you were nervous to tell him about the pregnancy. You had no idea how he would feel or what he would think.

But, of course you had to tell him before he found out some other way.

You weren’t even surprised when he barely reacted. He was thinking, you knew that, so you gave him a moment. This whole thing was a surprise for both of you.

“I had my suspicions” well, that wasn’t the response you were expecting. 

But of course he noticed the little changes in you. Your fatigue, any sickness you had been feeling. He knew the signs, he already suspected that you were pregnant. So, thankfully, it wasn’t a complete surprise to him.

You’ll never know exactly how he felt when he first started suspecting pregnancy but by the time you tell him about it, he’s already come to terms with it.

(He’s also aware that this would be good for keeping up appearances. He loves you, he does, but he can’t help that his mind often wanders to more logical pros and cons of things)

He gets a little...overbearing, but it’s honestly nice to get all that extra attention from him.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

You’re understandably nervous about telling Jesse, unsure of how he would react and already knowing about his past.

And when you do tell him...yeah, it brings back some less than happy memories. The last time he was going to have a child...well, it didn’t end well.

But you’re different. You know about what he does and you love him despite it. If you want to bring this child into the world, you know completely who they’re father would be and you’d love them anyway.

(Like with Asa, it would be undeniably good for his image, having a spouse and a child, but that’s not something that he’s making decisions based on when it comes to you)

It’s not always easy to throw off Jesse but this did it, and you’re just waiting for his reaction nervously.

Of course, he doesn’t say anything, but he guides you towards him. A hand resting on your stomach as he presses a kiss to your forehead. He’s telling you that he’s okay with this if you are.

Otis Driftwood

You’re not wrong for being a little nervous to tell him or have a child in the Firefly household at all.

I can completely see why you think he might react badly.

However, when you do tell him, he’s actually pretty calm. Sure, he’s surprised, but he takes it well.

Admittedly, he never thought about having kids, and if he did he might have even decided that he wasn’t interested in having them.

But you’re pregnant, you’re both having this child, and that’s okay.

He’ll pull you into him, smirking as he says something along the lines of “so we’re going to be parents, huh?” he’s a little surprised when you just pull him into a relieved hug, but returns it.

He’ll raise them ‘right’, whatever he considers to be right.

All he promises you is that he is going to be a much better parent than his were. That’s it, that’s all he wants to be and he will be.

Yautja (Predator) 

You find out at the exact same time. As soon as you start throwing up or just not feeling right, he’s taking you to get some medical attention.

And the medic tells you that you’re pregnant, as blunt as Yautja’s are.

Your mate is overjoyed. This is great news! 

Even if the two of you weren’t planning this, he still loves the thought of you carrying his child, of you having his child. Yeah, this definitely isn’t bad news to him.

But he understands if you’re kinda freaking out about this, it was a surprise to you both.

Still, he’s going to be right there for you. Super involved and supportive, assuring you that you’re going to have the best medical care (better than anything you could get on earth). It’s all going to be fine.

Gets ten times more protective, clingy, and affectionate.

[bulletsgirl]

ok so. @swiftheller and i recently had the (mis)fortune of being trapped in a car with each other for over an hour and at some point she mentioned that idea where if you could insert a deancas kiss anywhere without really altering the story that much, where would you do it and why. and she said, “ive heard people suggest casifer.” and that led to us spiraling and resulted in the following:

11x14 (the vessel) wouldn’t be the reveal; it would be three episodes earlier, in 11x11 (into the mystic). the scene where lucifer is rooting around the bunker archives for something and dean walks in on him, and after some discussion about dean’s frightening pull towards amara, lucifer puts his hand on dean’s shoulder in a display of false comfort (the infamous judas kiss).

and then lucifer feels castiel. his longing for dean, his want, all plain as day at the mere feel of him. and lucifer has to hold back a smile, because this? this is irresistible. it’s too entertaining not to fuck with this, to fuck with them both, and he’s already touching dean, anyway, so it isn’t that much work to go from holding his shoulder to sliding his hand up to the base of his neck, behind it, to cradling the back of his head. it isn’t too hard to close the already small distance between them by pulling dean forward and kissing him.

and castiel sees it happening. he can feel it, this opportunity, this thing he never thought he could have, and it’s horrible because he doesn’t really have it at all. he’s left frozen with some combination of hunger and despair.

and lucifer gives it a moment for dean to get over the shock, waits for the second dean relaxes and begins to reciprocate. only then does lucifer pull back.

and dean’s eyes flutter open, his expression confused and a little reverent. and he says, breathy and quiet, “cas,” and he’s interrupted before he can get out another word, because lucifer bursts into laughter.

and we can see dean’s expression slowly morph from surprise to wariness to fear, and lucifer says, “sorry, it’s just—your face. you should’ve seen it,” and he’s wheezing out, “kissing your ugly mug was worth it just for that, but castiel’s little meltdown is really the cherry on top of it all. he’s pretty green around the gills right now.”

and dean looks like he’s been punched because—”lucifer.” he lurches back, stumbling right into a metal shelf, and it’s only by sheer luck (or design) that he sticks his hand back where some of the metal is warped and sharp and he cuts his palm open, bleeding just enough for a blindly painted banishing sigil.

when he tells sam about lucifer he edits the story and leaves the kiss unmentioned. the first moment castiel and him are alone after lucifer is ejected from his vessel, castiel says, “dean, about what lucifer—” and dean stops him before he can even say it out loud.

he says, “it isn’t your fault, cas. he just wanted to fuck with me.” dean doesn’t even think about what could’ve prompted lucifer to do it in the first place; it makes more sense to blame himself or lucifer for it, to just be sorry that cas got caught up in something that obviously made him sick if what lucifer said about cas’ reaction was anything to go by.

he says, “we don’t have to talk about it again,” and castiel feels bad enough that dean had to be subjected to something his feelings gave lucifer the idea for that he doesn’t. he thinks it’s kindness enough that dean doesn’t blame him for it, anyway.

[tigerdrop]

in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so  hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog.  he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

[amuelia]

How do you think Roose will meet his demise? Or will he survive? What's your best Roose end game predictions?

Thank you for the question! This will be a long post under the readmore, going into my thoughts on the show ending and exploring what the books may have set up in regards to themes and characterization, as well as a bit of general analysis of Roose' story arc in a Dance with Dragons (and some speculation about Ramsay as well).

If you click on the readmore i will have divided the post into sections with bolded Headers, if you want to only read my specific endgame ideas you can skip ahead to the "His Endgame?" section.

In The Show

The show had him get killed by Ramsay in s6, which informs a lot of the fandom speculation about this storyline.

I am not a fan of the show's scenario as it was both similar to tywin and tyrion as well as a mirror of robb's death; it would also be offscreen in the books since neither of the characters are PoVs and Ramsay would need to do the act in secret. This would ultimately undercut Roose' role and impact, being a death scene that is not very unique and also isn't shown to the reader directly. Since no PoV is even in Winterfell currently, we would just hear of it from afar and not witness the consequences.

The show also has a different dynamic in the Bolton storyline, emphasizing Ramsay as the "main character" of this arc, and elevating him to the main villain for s5-6 to fill Joffrey's shoes as an evil character played by a very charismatic actor. Ramsay's show writing is informed by the needs of a TV setting that wants shocking moments and capitalizes on "fan favourite" actors; his rising importance in the show thus is not necessarily an indicator of his book importance. The show was also missing many central characters like the northern lords and the Frey men in Winterfell.

The show had a tendency to kill off characters early when they wanted to cull storylines or had no plans to adapt more of the character's story (like Stannis, Barristan, possibly the Tyrells...); In Mance Rayder we have the most obvious example, where they killed him off for real in a scene that in the book was a misdirection. We also have characters like Jorah where it appears the showrunners had their own choice of how they want his storyline to end, even if Grrm has his own ending in mind.

"For a long time we wanted Ser Jorah to be there at The Wall in the end," writer Dave Hill says. "The three coming out of the tunnel would be Jon and Jorah and Tormund. But [...] Jorah should have the noble death he craves defending the woman he loves." - Dave Hill for Entertainment Weekly

So a death in the show does not need to be an indicator that the books will feature an equivalent scene, even if it gives a hint as to what may happen. By s5 the show has become its own beast, and the butterfly effects from radical changes they made as well as the different characterizations results in the show having to cater to its own needs in many cases when it gets to resolving a plotline.

"We reconceived the role to make it worthy of the actor's talents." - Benioff and Weiss for the s5 DVD commentary, on Indira Varma's casting as Ellaria

In The Books

(Since this post was getting out of hand in length a lot of these arguments are a little shortened/not as in-depth as i'd like! Feel free to inquire more via ask if something is unclear or you disagree)

In the books i find it hard to make a concrete guess as to how it will end. Occam's razor would be to assume the show sort of got it right and that it will vaguely end the same, which could very well happen and i will not discount the possibility; Ramsay is cruel, desires the Dreadfort rule, and is a suspected kinslayer and has no qualms to commit immoral violence.

"Ramsay killed [his brother]. A sickness of the bowels, Maester Uthor says, but I say poison." - Reek III, aDwD

Reek saw the way Ramsay's mouth twisted, the spittle glistening between his lips. He feared he might leap the table with his dagger in his hand [to attack his father]. - Reek III, aDwD

Arguments against this or for a different endgame come down to interpretations of the themes in the story arc and opinions on dramatic structure/grrm's writing, and are thus very subjective.

The way the story currently is going, Ramsay killing Roose treats Roose almost as a plot device; his death brings no change or development to Ramsay's character as we already know his motivations and cruelty align with such an act, and we can assume that he would feel no remorse about it either. The results of such a scene would be firmly on a story level, as it brings political changes and moves the plot along into a specific direction. Roose himself cannot have any relevant character development about it as he does not have a PoV and we would not be able to witness his reaction from the outside.

“The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.” - William Faulkner, often quoted by Grrm

Further, killing his father is very difficult to pull off in secret (Roose is frequently described as very cautious, and employs many guardsmen). And even if Ramsay pulls it off (people often interpret Ramsay as Roose' blind spot, assuming he might be caught by surprise, not expecting Ramsay would bite the hand that feeds him), Roose is the one that holds his entire alliance together; The Freys would be alienated by Ramsay who would antagonize Walda and her son as his rivals, The Ryswell bloc appears to dislike Ramsay (especially Barbrey), and the other northmen are implied to not even like Roose himself. Killing Roose would quickly combust the entire northern faction, and hinder Ramsay's further plans (another reason why I am not convinced of a book version of the "Battle of Bastards"). Though this might of course, if we look at it from the other side, be grrm's plan to quickly dissolve this plot and move the northern story forwards.

"Ramsay will kill [Walda's children], of course. [...] [She] will grieve to see them die, though." - Reek III, aDwD

"How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known? Only Lady Barbrey, whom you would turn into a pair of boots … inferior boots." - Reek III, aDwD

"Fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. Even here in Barrowton the crows are circling, waiting to feast upon our flesh. The Cerwyns and the Tallharts are not to be relied on, my fat friend Lord Wyman plots betrayal, and Whoresbane … the Umbers may seem simple, but they are not without a certain low cunning. Ramsay should fear them all, as I do." - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' death at Ramsay's hand also removes him thematically from the Red Wedding, as we can assume such a death might have happened regardless of his participation in the event (seeing as Ramsay is getting provoked by Roose constantly in normal dialogue, and has a general violent disposition). Roose already took Ramsay in before aGoT started, and married Walda very early in the war, which is already most of the buildup that the show's scenario had. It also has little to do with the The North Remembers plot except set dressing, since the northmen are presumably neither collaborating with/egging on Ramsay nor would they appreciate the development.

Themes: Ned Stark and the rule over the North

Roose is treated as a foil to Eddard; They are often contrasted in morals and ruling styles, while also having many superficial similarities that further connect them (they are seen as cold by people, grey eyed, patriarchs of rivalling northern houses, etc...).

Pale as morning mist, his eyes concealed more than they told. Jaime misliked those eyes. They reminded him of the day at King's Landing when Ned Stark had found him seated on the Iron Throne. - Jaime IV, aSoS

They both have a "bastard son" that they handle very differently; Roose treating Ramsay in the way that is seen as common in their society. Ramsay and Jon as a comparison are meant to show that Catelyn had a reason to see a bastard as a threat (since Domeric was antagonized by his bastard brother), but also shows that her suggested plan for Jon would not have stopped any danger either (as Ramsay being raised away from the castle didn't help).

And if his seed quickened, she expected he would see to the child's needs. He did more than that. The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him "son" for all the north to see. - Catelyn II, aGoT

"Each year I sent the woman some piglets and chickens and a bag of stars, on the understanding that she was never to tell the boy who had fathered him. A peaceful land, a quiet people, that has always been my rule." - Reek III, aDwD

It appears to me that Roose' story functions in some ways as an inversion to Ned. He makes an attempt to grab a power he was not destined to (becoming warden of the north), where Ned did not want the responsiblity thrust upon him ("It was all meant for Brandon. [...] I never asked for this cup to pass to me." - Cat II, aGoT). Where Ned rules successfully and his northmen honor his legacy ("What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." - The Turncloak, aDwD), the Boltons are largely hated and there are several plots conspiring against them ("Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die." - The King's Prize, aDwD).

It seems possible to me that in terms of their family and legacy, Roose might also live through an inverted version of Ned's story; where Ned died first, leaving his family behind, Roose already lived to see the death of his wives and trueborn heir, and might thus also live to see Ramsay's death. Ned leaves behind well raised children and a North who still respects his name, and even though he dies it will presumably all be "in good hands" in the end (in broad strokes, obviously this is all much more morally complex). Roose however built up a bad and toxic legacy, and also built his way of life around evading consequences; it makes sense to me that he would be forced by the story to finally endure all the consequences of his actions and witness the fall of his house firsthand. After all we already have Tywin who fulfils the purpose of dying before his children while his legacy falls to ruins, and a Feast for Crows explores this aspect thoroughly.

Roose' arc in A Dance With Dragons

The story repeatedly builds up the situation unravelling around Roose, and him slowly losing a grip on it and becoming more stressed and anxious.

Reek wondered if Roose Bolton ever cried. If so, do the tears feel cold upon his cheeks? - Reek II, aDwD

Roose Bolton said nothing at all. But Theon Greyjoy saw a look in his pale eyes that he had never seen before—an uneasiness, even a hint of fear. [...] That night the new stable collapsed beneath the weight of the snow that had buried it. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

Lady Walda gave a shriek and clutched at her lord husband's arm. "Stop," Roose Bolton shouted. "Stop this madness." His own men rushed forward as the Manderlys vaulted over the benches to get at the Freys. - Theon I, aDwD

It also directly presents him as a parallel to Theon's rule in aCoK, who similarly experienced a very unpopular rule and his subjects slowly turning against him. Presumably, the point of this comparison will not just be "Ramsay comes in at the end and unexpectedly whacks them on the head". Both Theon and Roose invited Ramsay into their lives, giving him more power than he deserves, and causing Ramsay to make choices that increasingly alienate others from them (the death of the miller's boys for example has repercussions for both Theon and Roose). Grrm is likely steering this towards a difference in how they will deal with this situation.

It all seemed so familiar, like a mummer show that he had seen before. Only the mummers had changed. Roose Bolton was playing the part that Theon had played the last time round, and the dead men were playing the parts of Aggar, Gynir Rednose, and Gelmarr the Grim. Reek was there too, he remembered, but he was a different Reek, a Reek with bloody hands and lies dripping from his lips, sweet as honey. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

"Stark's little wolflings are dead," said Ramsay, sloshing some more ale into his cup, "and they'll stay dead. Let them show their ugly faces, and my girls will rip those wolves of theirs to pieces. The sooner they turn up, the sooner I kill them again." - The elder Bolton sighed. "Again? Surely you misspeak. You never slew Lord Eddard's sons, those two sweet boys we loved so well. That was Theon Turncloak's work, remember? How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known?" - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' arc is deeply connected to the relations he shares to the other northern lords, which has been heavily impacted by the Red Wedding. It stands to reason that they are going to be an important part of his downfall, and we see many hints of them plotting to betray him.

The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer's farce is almost done. My son is home." - Davos IV, aDwD

Themes: Stannis and kinslaying

The books set up Roose and Stannis as foils as well; Both lack charisma and have trouble winnning the people's support, Stannis and Roose both parallel and contrast Ned, Stannis appears as a "lesser Robert" where Roose is a "lesser Ned", Stannis represents the fire where Roose represents the ice, both struggle over dominion in a land that doesnt particularly want either of them, etc... What i find interesting is how they are contrasted over kinslaying:

"Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother's peach." - Davos II, aCoK

"I should've had the mother whipped and thrown her child down a well … but the babe did have my eyes." [...] "Now [Domeric's] bones lie beneath the Dreadfort with the bones of his brothers, who died still in the cradle, and I am left with Ramsay. Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?" - Reek III, aCoK

Stannis is set up as someone who is very thorough and strict in following his own code and his "duty", even if he does not like what it forces him to do.

Stannis ground his teeth again. "I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty . . . If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark . . . Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice. Tell him, my lady." - Davos IV, aSoS

The armorer considered that a moment. "Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends." - Jon I, aCoK

Roose however is frequently characterized as someone who tries to get as much as he can while avoiding negative consequences, and who does not have a consistent moral code and instead bends rules to his benefit to be the most comfortable to him.

It is often theorized that Stannis will end up burning his daughter Shireen; the Ramsay issue might then serve to contrast the two men. If Grrm intends it to be compared by the reader, I can see it going two ways: Either Roose will be forced to finally act in a drastic way after avoiding his responsibility in regards to Ramsay and he will be forced to get rid of his son, making him break the only moral hurdle he has presented adhering to during the story (though analyzing his character, the kinslaying taboo is probably less a sign of moral fortitude and more him using the guise of morals to explain a selfish motivation). Or he might not act against Ramsay and suffer the consequences, presenting an interesting moral situation where some readers might consider his action "better" or more relatable than Stannis', breaking up the otherwise very black and white moral comparison between the two men. It serves as an interesting conflict of the morality of kinslaying compared to what readers might see as a moral obligation of getting rid of a monster such as Ramsay; contrasting Shireen whose death would not be seen as worth it by most. Ramsay as a bastard (who was almost killed at birth if he hadnt been able to prove his paternity) also makes for an interesting verbal parallel with the bastard Edric Storm, and might be used for a look at the utilitarian principle of killing a child (baby ramsay/edric) to save countless people from suffering that underpinned Edric's story.

"As Faulkner says, all of us have the capacity in us for great good and for great evil, for love but also for hate. I wanted to write those kinds of complex character in a fantasy, and not just have all the good people get together to fight the bad guy." - Grrm

"Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?" - Eddard VIII, aGoT

"If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" - "Everything," said Davos, softly. - Davos V, aSoS

However Grrm decides to present these conflicts or which actions the characters will take in the end, it will result in interesting discussion and analysis for the readers.

His Endgame?

Looking at the trends of the past books, it is probably going to be hard to predict any specific outcome; every book introduces new characters and plot elements that were impossible to predict from the last book even if their thematic importance or setup was aptly foreshadowed.

Roose has a lot of plot importance and characterization that has, in my opinion, not yet been properly resolved in a way that would be unique and poignant to the specific purpose his character appears to fulfil. However I also have a bias in that i did not like the show's writing of that scene which makes me averse to see a version of it in the books, and i really like Roose as a character and want to see him have more scenes in the next book(s). This leads me to discount plot speculation that cuts his character arc short offscreen early. Roose is only a side character; however, i have trust in grrm's writing abilities and that he would give him a proper sendoff that feels satisfying to a fan of the character.

"…even the [characters] who are complete bastards, nasty, twisted, deeply flawed human beings with serious psychological problems… When I get inside their skin and look out through their eyes, I have to feel a certain — if not sympathy, certainly empathy for them. I have to try to perceive the world as they do, and that creates a certain amount of affection." — George Martin

Considering my earlier analyis, there is a case to be made for Roose killing Ramsay; however it appears grrm might have a different endgame in mind for Ramsay, foreshadowed in Chett's prologue:

There'd be no lord's life for the leechman's son, no keep to call his own, no wives nor crowns. Only a wildling's sword in his belly, and then an unmarked grave. The snow's taken it all from me . . . the bloody snow . . . - Chett, aSoS

I tend to think something might happen to Roose/the Bolton bloc later in the book that would cause Ramsay to attempt to flee the scene again like he did back in aCoK fleeing Rodrik's justice; perhaps Ramsay is sent out to battle but then flees it like a coward, or he sees his cause as lost. This time, the fleeing and potentially disguised Ramsay would not make it out to safety though, and get killed without being recognized as Ramsay, dying forgotten. This would serve as dramatic irony since Ramsay so strongly desired to be recognized and respected as a Lord of Bolton, without being too on the nose.

As for Roose, i could see him getting captured and somehow brought to justice (either when someone takes Winterfell or in some sort of battle). I see it unlikely that he will be backstabbed like Robb was, because it seems very "eye for an eye" and ultimately doesn't teach much of a lesson except "he had it coming"; But the various people conspiring against him could lead to his capture by betraying him (giving a payoff to the northern conspiracies and the red wedding). I would find a scene of him standing trial interesting since i believe we didn't have one of these for a true non-pov villain yet, and it would be an interesting confrontation that he cannot escape from (he also loves to talk so it would be a good read to see him make a case for himself).

I assume Roose will be out of the picture when the Other plot finally properly kicks into gear (whether dead or "in prison"). With Stannis as a false Azor Ahai and Roose as a false Other (with his pale, cold features), their struggle in the north seems to be a representation of the false "Game of Thrones" that distracts people from the "real threat" of the Others.

As always this is just my opinion, and it could all go very differently in the books! There could always be something that completely uproots my analysis and goes into a direction i did not expect from the material we had; But i have fate that Grrm as a writer will deliver and give me something i can be satisfied with.

[hangovercurse]

Missing You

Part ii of the Without You series: Y/N tries to cope with what happened between her and Colson

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Colson being a dick (again.. sorry), and sad boi hours ft. my boi Pete

A/N: I’m so sorry. This was only supposed to be one part but it was too long for just one so... here you go. I apologize in advance.

Word Count: 1389

| i | iii | iv | v | vi |

masterlist

You leaned against the wall next to the door, not quite trusting yourself to drive yet. You sniffled as the reality of the situation set in, your mind replaying the events upstairs. You brought your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sobs that overtook your body.

The door next to you opened and you prepared yourself for who might come through, knowing full well that Colson would not come chasing you. Luckily, it was Pete, probably the only person on Earth that you could talk to at the moment.

He took one look at your face before pulling you into his arms, holding you as you sobbed. Your body gave out from underneath you, and he held you as the pair of you slid to the patio floor. You curled your knees to your chest, leaning into Pete.

“You don’t have to, but if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” Pete whispered. You simply nodded into his shoulder, trying to build up the courage to speak.

When you finally could talk your voice came out in choppy sentences interrupted with occasional sobs. “He- he said that I- that I was the reason Megan left.” You paused, sniffling. “And then he said that I- I mean…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, so you just let out a sob.

Pete’s hand was running through your hair, trying to bring you comfort. You slowed your breathing down and got to a point where you weren’t crying as hard. “He said I mean nothing to him.” You finally whispered. Pete almost didn’t hear it, and part of him wished he hadn’t. You sounded so broken and he didn’t know that anyone other than Colson could fix you.

“I don’t think he meant that. He’s just angry and you happened to be in a bad place at a bad time.”

“I think he did. You didn’t see him. It was almost like he was enjoying it. Like the fact that I was in pain made him happy.” You moved your arms to wrap around Pete, seeking comfort from the memories. “And he- he hurt me.” Pete tensed up and you were quick to continue, “he didn’t mean to but, he wouldn’t let go of me. No matter how much I pushed him and told him to get off of me he wouldn’t move and I was so- I was so scared.”  

More tears fell from your eyes as Pete’s grip around you tightened. “Let me take you home Y/N. I don’t think this is a good place for you to be and I don’t think you’re in any state to drive.”

You nodded as he began to stand up, pulling you with him. You wiped your tears on your sleeve, taking a deep breath in. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, looking downwards. “I shouldn’t- Colson’s your friend you should be taking care of him. It wasn’t fair of me to put all that on you. I’m sorry.”

You looked up at Pete, who had a confused expression on his face. “Y/N, you’re my friend too, okay? Colson’s being a dick right now, he doesn’t deserve people taking care of him right now. You do.” You nodded, looking back down, “And just so you know, you’re not a burden. I can see those little wheels turning in your head telling you that you are. You’re not.”

“Thanks Pete.” You mumble into his shoulder as he embraces you in a hug.

 It had been a week since your big fight with Colson and he still hadn’t reached out. No apology, no calls, not even a drunk text.

You’d decided that Colson really had meant what he said.

For the past week, you’d been a mess. You barely left your bed, much less your house. Pete stayed over the first night, afraid you would do something stupid, but you made him leave the next day. Rook and Slim both tried to come by, but you didn’t answer the door.

You hadn’t answered your phone for a week, which made you feel worse because now all your friends were worrying about you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to anyone.

Surprisingly, however, you’d been sober all week. Every substance you could think of felt sacred to him. You couldn’t smoke weed because you used to smoke weed with Colson. You couldn’t drink because you used to drink with Colson. It was like everything in your life was attached to him.

In a way, it was worse than a break-up. It was worse than him rejecting you. Colson had been a part of you for so long, he was attached to every piece of you. You weren’t you without him. But now you had to figure out how to be just that.

After the seventh day, you decided you should answer your phone. At least let Pete know that you’re okay. Scrolling through the messages he’d left you over the past few days made you feel guilty. He had been really worried about you. So, you sent him a text.

I’m alive, don’t worry. Just trying to figure my shit out. Sorry for worrying you.

You sent a similar message to Rook, who had been trying to reach you all week. While you were scrolling through your messages you couldn’t help but open the last message you’d sent to Colson.

He’d had a date with Megan that night and sent you a picture of what he was wearing, asking if he looked weird. You, of course, told him no.

You look fine, loser. Have fun with Megan!

Somehow the message just made you angry. You had tried so hard to be supportive, even when it broke your heart. You were nice to her, friendly even. You would have never tried to sabotage their relationship, you’d never get between them, no matter how you felt for Colson.

You backed out of the message chain. You saw Casie’s picture below his and figured you owed it to her to text.

Hey Case. You doing ok?

The typing symbol appeared, and then her message came through.

Not really. Dad’s been really mad the past couple of days. He’s barely left his room. Where have you been?!?

You sighed, a sad smile on your face at her innocence.

Cols and I got into a fight. I don’t think I’ll be coming around for a little while, sweetheart.

Don’t worry about your dad, he’ll get better soon. Have you talked to him?

Your heart sank at the thought of not seeing Casie. She was like your own daughter, you adored her. And now you might lose her and Colson.

Not really. Idk what to say.

You thought for a moment about how to respond.

Hmm. Maybe ask him if he’s feeling better? Or smth like that.

Casie gave the thumbs up reaction and didn’t respond afterwards, so you assumed the conversation was over.

 Another week passed. You had finally been able to get some work done from home, but you still felt like shit.

Baze and Slim came by to drop off groceries much to your protest, saying they figured you hadn’t left the house and needed food. Though you hated them treating you like you were fragile, you appreciated the sentiment.

Casie never texted you back, so you assumed Colson told her not to text you or she had decided not to on her own accord. Either way the thought made you sick to your stomach.

Work was a welcome distraction from your mind. You could easily throw yourself into small projects and forget about the world for a few hours at a time. And that’s exactly what you were doing. Sitting on the couch, laptop in your lap, typing away.

Today had been a surprisingly good day. You woke up and felt a sliver of motivation, which you were currently running with. You felt like the grey cloud over your head was finally starting to go away.

You heard a sound at your front door, which made you curious and also a bit nervous. Then you heard a key turning in the keyhole, a click following the turn. You were in the middle of wondering “who the hell has a key to my house?” when the door opened, revealing a distraught 6 foot 4 blond man.

“Colson?”

[winter-turtle]

I know this wouldn’t happen since your fic is a no power au, but you saying you love sick fic peter with protective iron dad in your other ask made me wonder, what WOULD Mob boss Tony’s reaction to the bite be? Especially if Peter got REALLY sick like some fics have him be. (Probably many, MANY, unalived oscorp employees, that’s for sure)

You, my friend, got me thinking. So despite me being busy whole day, I still went and wrote something short for this tumblr exclusive (I always wanted to say that) AU of an AU.

Or "what if" of The Ties That Bind Us/Grow As We Go

It's way past one in the morning, so please excuse any mistakes and enjoy these 850 words.

Tony was worried sick. But his “worried sick” had nothing on Peter’s “actually sick”. He shouldn’t have allowed Peter to go on that god-forsaken field trip to Oscorp.

“What do you mean you can’t figure out what’s wrong with him?! Why the hell am I even paying you for then?” he’d yelled at Strange and Cho from the top of his lungs.

His kid was in pain. That much was obvious.

It had all started after the dinner. Peter hadn’t eaten all that much in the first place – which, okay, combined with how pale the boy looked, Tony had assumed Peter got a cold or flu or something – but after he’d excused himself and said he was going to bed, he didn’t make it five steps before he collapsed.

They called in Strange, Cho as well, but even with their combined forces they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Peter. The only lead they had was a red spot on Peter’s hand and the abnormal bloodwork results.

It wasn’t until the team had looked through Peter’s camera for clues that they discovered another lead. Radioactive spiders display.

A quick hack to Oscorp’s security feed had shown Peter slapping something from his hand before he went to catch up with the group.

That’s when Bruce got called in.

That was two days ago.

Besides quick trips to end the lives of various scientists – already bloodied scientists that had received treatment from the rest of the team – who had something to do with the project and even the owner himself, Tony faithfully remained at his barely-lucid son’s side.

The too-high fever, the labored breathing, the seizures – it made Tony feel like ripping his own hair out. If given the chance, he would’ve gladly taken Peter’s place if it would take the pain away from the teen. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, so all what was left for him to do was to gently wipe the sweat from Peter’s forehead with cool cloth.

Damn it, he just got his son into his life, he couldn’t lose him!

Peter sighed at the coolness, barely peeled his eyelids open before they slid shut once again. His skin was so hot that if given enough time, you could fry an egg on him.

Tony shook his head, dunked the cloth into the water, squeezed most of it out before resuming the now-too-familiar motions.

Tony was reluctantly dragged into shower when Peter somehow stabilized the next day.

Peter woke up… feeling better than expected if he was being honest. He had some vague recollection of intense pain, but there was no trace of it. He also woke up in company of passed out and very tired-looking Pepper in the armchair next to his bed.

So, as quietly as he could, Peter unhooked himself from the IV, got from under the light blanket and headed to the door.

“What the…?” he muttered when his hand remained on the handle as if it was glued there. He tugged and tugged, but the hand didn’t budge. It was only then that he noticed the blanket stuck to his other hand.

The sound of his struggling must’ve woken Pepper up and she had to alert others because the next thing Peter knew, he was surrounded by his family.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Tony – who looked like he just woke up – asked worriedly.

“Dad, someone- someone glued me to the door! I can’t get my hand free- whoa!”

Several people had to jump out of the way of the door that got ripped out of its hinges. Even if Peter tugged hard, there was no possibility that he’d tugged that hard. He opened his hand, but the handle was still stuck to his palm. Everybody looked as surprised as him.

“Isn’t that… heavy?” Clint asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s… not…” Peter replied as he waved the door around. “I know it’s supposed to be, but… wait, is this a dream?”

“Kiddo, if this is a dream, then we’re all somehow interconnected,” Tony said. “And I know for sure that no glue is strong enough to do… that. Okay, uh, maybe try to relax? It might make the door unstick?”

True to his words and several shakes later, the door fell on the ground with a loud bang.

“Kid—”

“Don’t!” Peter cried out as he backed away. “Please, don’t come any closer. I don’t know what’s happening, but I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” They all stared with mouths hanging open. Peter’s jaw fell too once he realized what position he was in. He was pressing himself against the wall.

But a foot off the ground.

He began to hyperventilate.

“Pete,” Tony said gently as he approached, “don’t worry. I know for a fact that you would never hurt us. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.” Tony reached his hand. “Together.”

Peter, managing to calm down, tentatively reached his own hand towards his dad. Upon seeing that nothing bad happened, he wrapped himself around Tony’s front like a koala, burying his face in Tony’s neck.

“Together.”

[poptod]

hello! i'd like to make an ahkmenrah x reader request! maybe present-day reader gets teleported back in time to when ahkmenrah was alive and they eventually get to the palace and stuff happens? maybe they tell him about modern life? and maybe reader is unnaturally beautiful to the ancient egyptians because humans evolve to be more attractive as time goes on so a person from our time would be hot shit 4,000 years ago? this is long lmao. thanks!

Notes: god ive always wanted to do this kind of storyline but i was worried about like,, logic and stuff getting in the way of the storyline. anyway! i was so fucking elated to receive this request. i got a bit carried away so apologies! WC: 3.2k

+

Okay. It isn't that bad.

Would you ever see your family again? Probably not, but you weren't ruling the possibility out.

Would you ever get to have sour patch kids again? Probably not. But even during the time you lived in 2020, you had eaten more concentrated sour patch kids flavor than all of the people around you combined.

This little village on the outskirts of ancient Thebes is hardly L.A.––though that's probably a good thing––and is small enough for you to know every inhabitant. Your shop there is small to suit the town, and well known ever since your arrival in this time.

They found you beside the river, thought you to be a gift from the Gods. You were hazy, though––whatever had so forcefully pushed you back in time had made your head spin, making you sick and unbalanced. So, when they asked if you did in fact come from the Gods, you had no way of defending yourself either way. Generally you've been denying it––they think you are a god, and the only way you've convinced them you're not a god is by saying you're a gift from them. It explains the way you look, unnaturally beautiful and alien amongst the more pure genetics of earlier humans.

Your shop is pretty simple. You make portraits from paint, more realistic than anything else that exists, and it only affirms their belief in your god-like status. Fortunately word seems to not have gotten out––the village has remained small, and no one from Thebes has run into you. Every now and then you get unreasonably anxious that a noble will find you and turn you into a slave. It's a worry most people around you have, so you find comfort in the fact that you're not the only one. Still, you're not quite accustomed to such an atmosphere––the thought of nobles and Kings noticing you still sends terrified aches into your stomach.

It's about two weeks in that it gets bad. People start to pass by the village, more than you would've thought, and they're all looking to trade goods, food, and information. The people of the village talk about you––you're something interesting, you can't deny that, but they don't know just how worried you are. Whenever you see someone you don't recognize outside your home, you refuse to come out.

Five days later and there's soldiers in your home, looking over your paintings on their way back to Memphis from conquering the realm of Kush. You hold a deep contempt for them––you don't know all that much about history, but you know how Egyptian soldiers and Pharaohs reigned power over the people of Kush.

The soldiers aren't all that worrying. What really gets your heart pounding is the final man to enter your hut; a man bearing a crown and a long sword, with golden braces around his wrists and a chest plated in green scales. Your fingers dig into the wood of your counter when he notices you. The crown on his head––it's the crown of both upper and lower Egypt.

This is a Royal.

"Where did you learn this skill?" He asks you, eyes trained on one of your bigger drawings. It's just on papyrus––not for sale––and hung on the wall as a display of your talent.

"I spent a little while travelling the world," you answer. Technically, growing up in the modern world was a bit like travelling the world; you got to see the cultures and practices of many, many people. "The rest of it's practice."

"The peasants here, they... they claim you came from the Nile. Is that true?"

"Well... that is where I was found," you say carefully, but you can already tell you've fucked up. The look on his face is indescribable beyond the fact that he's pleased.

"How would you feel coming back to the capital with me?" He offers to you, setting his hands on the counter and leaning forward. "I think my father would much like to meet you."

"I – I don't think I'm really cut out for -"

"Nonsense," he dismisses with a smile, taking your hand from its' spot on the wood. "We shall teach you proper writing skills, give you a beautiful home, and the salary isn't horrid either."

You can't just say no. If you do, he's going to ask questions––he's going to get confused, and he's going to get suspicious. No one would turn down an opportunity like this; free schooling, free housing, and much more money for something you already do.

"Well... alright," you say quietly, looking to the home around you that you built with the help of the other villagers.

"Wonderful. My name is Kamun."

He's not a very nice person, you come to find. Or perhaps he's just not your tastes––the soldiers seem to like him well enough, at least the ones who aren't completely subordinate to him, but his attitude towards women and poor people is scathing to say the least. Otherwise he's very amusing, with a good sense of humor and quite generous with his food and wine as long as he gets his fill of it first.

The boat back to Memphis, where the royal family currently stays, is a long ride filled with various entertainments. It's clear these are not soldiers accustomed to rough conditions––the dancing women and flowing beer is enough to tell you that. Instead, you surmise these are faux war-heroes; people adored in their hometown for doing nothing but intimidating others in a foreign country. They try to get cushy with you, soften you up to their words and touches. It doesn't work.

He keeps you close to him. You let him do it, sort of––it's better than telling him no. Better than starting a ruckus. Then again, avoiding a ruckus is what got you here in the first place, standing before the doors of the courtroom where a false God on earth rules the Nile.

"Father, I bring you a gift from Thebes," says Kamun, pushing you forward by the small of your back. You can't bring yourself to meet the Pharoah's eye, so you fall to your knees and bow.

Everyone is staring at you. You don't look normal, and they all know it, and you know it. You could cry from the heat of their eyes on your back.

One of Kamun's soldiers steps forwards, handing the Pharaoh and his wife several of the drawings they'd taken from you. Silence passes as the two scan your work.

"How did you achieve such a mirror of the human face?" The Pharaoh asks in a slow, deep voice that sounds as he looks––old, weathered, wise.

"They came from the Nile," Kamun answers for you, and murmurs take the crowd by storm. You, on the other hand, feel your heartbeat increase in massive increments, speeding your already uneven breath. "A gift from the Gods, the locals said."

"I can't – I am not magic," you rush out, hoping your clarification clears you of any responsibility to the Pharaoh. You know he rules everything––if he says you are to stay here, you have no choice, and you don't like it here. Too many people. "I cannot give you anything, my King."

"I think you're lying," says a voice, its' tone soft and a velvet low. It catches you off guard, brings you to raise your head and meet the eyes of someone you don't know; a young man dressed in gold beside the Pharaoh's throne.

You almost lose your breakfast as your eyes bulge, your mind instantly recognizing him and connecting the dots. You were, by far, not a historian, but you knew a fair amount of Egyptian history––namely a family in the Old Kingdom who was headed by the Pharaoh Merenkahre. The remaining statues and busts of the King and his son are astonishingly accurate, and there can be no doubt in your head.

That being said, there also can't be any reaction on your face. You try your best to reign your expression in.

"I..."

Actually, you do have something to offer now. You know the names––memorized the history, committed each event to memory, and now you can pull their lifestory off from the top of your head. Wouldn't that be valuable to a King; a seer of the future, to predict the rise and fall of the economy and the coming armies. Besides, you can't just say he's wrong. That'd be treasonous to them. So you have to agree you're hiding something, come up with an excuse as to why you hid it, and it proves harder than you thought. You're quickwitted, though––it got you away from the villager's wrath, and it will promote you to noble living now.

You hide a smirk beneath a calm expression as you address the younger prince.

"They gifted me foresight," you say quietly, pretending as though it hurts you to tell the truth, "but told me to never inform others."

"You are in the presence of Ra once more," the Pharaoh reminds you.

"And others," you point out. "I would... it would be better to discuss such matters.. in private."

Detailed information about already-past events is enough to sway him to believe you. The Pharaoh is surprisingly easy to convince, and with a few, meaningless predictions of the future, he gives you housing in his own palace. Kamun looks proud of himself––puffs his chest out in front of his father and earns no compliment. Ire laces his glare as it falls upon his brother, Ahkmen, praised for his ability to see through your obvious lie.

The Pharaoh asks his younger son to guide you to your room. Apparently it's closer to his room than it is to Kamun's, and evening is approaching fast. The walk there, while short, is marked by a conversation composed mainly of Ahkmen's questions and your answers. When the two of you reach your room, he doesn't leave––actually, he follows you in and locks the door.

There's nothing more terrifying than a man with unchecked power, and there is no one watching you.

No fail safe.

You gulp.

"I know you're still not telling the truth," he says, and though it dismisses several of your worries it still begs the question; how did he notice? "Just thought I'd spare you the embarrassment in front of my father, but my generosity ends there. Now I won't hurt you, and I won't tell anyone––I'm just curious."

Oh thank fuck. He's not going to rape you.

"I'm not Egyptian," you blurt out.

"Obviously," he interrupts, but you glare him into raising his hands defensively.

"I'm from the future."

He stares at you. For a minute. You know this because you count it––he just pauses right in his stance, doesn't move, and stares at you for a whole minute like you just told him you're made of gold.

"I'm sorry, what?" He says, laughter suddenly wracking his body.

"It's how I know what's going to happen to your family," you say, hoping he'll believe you. Otherwise this handsome, seemingly-nice man is going to think you're insane for the rest of time. "I studied your family for years as a side-hobby, I don't know how to predict the future for anything but you and your father."

His laughing pauses, or lightens at least; enough for him to say, "actually?"

"Yes," you say, completely serious. This seems to gain his interest once more. "You have to help me. I know at some point people are going to ask me questions about other things and I'm not going to have an answer."

"Just do what all our priests do," he says with a chuckle.

"What do they do?"

"Lie," he says. You can't stop the grin that spreads across your face from the stupid joke, and when he sees that a shit-eating grin spreads across his own face, delighted he could make you laugh.

"Yes, well... I guess I could do that," you mumble in a laugh.

"There's no need for you to worry. Now that I know the truth, I can help you," he says, offering you something that takes nearly all the anxiety out of your brain. After two days travel with a prince, it feels like it took 50 pounds off your shoulders.

"Thank you, so much," you chuckle in relief.

"Of course. I do have questions though, and I want you to answer them."

"Anything."

These questions of his, they come at all times––almost at a constant rate when he takes you on long walks, which he does often. He passes it off to his father as an interest in your beauty, and it apparently works. This little lie also helps you enormously in avoiding the romantic advances of many of the people you come into contact with. You're still not quite sure how it works, since Egyptians supposedly had a strong sense of patriotism, but you look rare and they idolize it. Every eye that falls upon you sees something beautiful, and you can't understand it.

At least Ahkmen is normal. He doesn't talk about you being beautiful. Ever.

And it kind of makes you sad.

"Would you say people on the whole are happier in the future or in the past?" He asks you, his words surrounded by the warmth of a summer day in Egypt.

Birds chatter loudly in the trees around you, singing in the humid air that marks the mating season for many of them. The flowers that surround you are already familiar––you thought it would take longer for you to commit the shapes and colors to memory, but here you are. Dressed in gold-laced silk and turquoise necklaces.

"I think the happiness of a population is dependent entirely on the circumstances surrounding it," you say. Sometimes your answers relate more to the human condition than the progress of time on the human race; he likes these answers, too, so you tell him exactly what you think. "Six thousand years from now, there are times of great misery. One is even called the Great Depression, but five years before that were some of the most prosperous times my country had ever seen. The same cycle is evident here."

"So.. great misery and great happiness come in waves?" He asks, pace slowing as he tries to understand what you're saying. You pause along the pathway, allowing him space to think.

"It's a pattern, actually. When the economy goes up, it will always come down. Recessions happen right after economical booms. And yes," you say before he can ask, "a time of unease will follow the prosperity of the current years. But it won't be for a time yet."

"Will it happen in my lifetime?"

He's murdered about three years from now. You think you might be able to stop it, but if you do, it'll alter history quite a lot. Either way, he wouldn't live long enough to see the recession the building of the great pyramids caused.

"No," you say. "But I'd prepare for it anyway, if only to keep your citizens safe."

"Of course. You... you are a great scholar," he tells you, resuming the slow walk down the shore of the Nile.

"Oh. Uh, thank you," you mumble as a blush fills your cheeks.

"What did you do in your time?"

"I was an artist, but I spent a lot of time giving lectures on the role of autistic people in ancient Egypt. Autistic people are often timekeepers," you say, and you know he'll figure out what you mean. Autistic isn't a term here, but many timekeepers of these ancient times were autistic, and considered highly by their societies.

"You might be able to give lectures again, if you'd like," he suggests. "People would come from far and wide to hear you speak. And you've got things to say that I know many scholars will find interesting."

"Mmm," you wince, "I kind of want to stay away from altering history too much."

"Oh, yes. My apologies," he says in a softer voice.

"It's alright," you say. "I'm glad you think I would be a good choice for that kind of thing, though."

He chuckles bashfully as he turns to the ground, scuffing his sandals as he walks.

Ahkmen is sweet––much sweeter than any of his family members, and you find yourself appreciating that every time you pass by his room. You pass his door often, always stopping a second to contemplate the tall, wooden doors. He's on the pathway between your room and the library.

Most of the time he's not in his room. Actually, you can usually find him in the library––there or outside in the markets or near the stalls. Today is different; he's been missing all day, and only when you walk the path back to your room do you hear his voice, talking to himself in his bedroom.

"They're bombarded with just such compliments, though. I can't – I can't stand out!"

"Or maybe you should, because you still haven't said a single thing yet and they probably think you're completely uninterested and that's why they aren't noticing you?"

"You and your... logic," Ahkmen spits.

"Come complaining when you kiss them under my advice."

As you attempt to peek through the crack in the door you stumble, knocking your hand against the wood. You barely hesitate before knocking again––cool and collected, smooth to slip into another lie.

"Oh! Hello, um – hi," he says awkwardly, slipping out of the room when he sees you. He quickly closes the door behind him, careful to keep you from seeing the other person in his room, but you can't bring yourself to care about the stranger.

Think of an excuse, why am I here?

"Oh, that's... I like your flower," he comments softly, eyes flickering between your eyes and the flower tucked into your hair. You'd forgotten about it, but raised your hand to touch the petals as you smiled. The perfect excuse

"Thank you. I thought you might like it, so I," you take it out of your hair and grab his hand, holding his palm upwards, "wanted to show you.. um, here."

Setting the flower in his hand, you curl his fingers around its' stem and push his hands back into his chest. He stares at you for a moment, confused by your strange behavior, but accepting of your gift anyway. You know him well enough now––he'd never decline a gift from you.

"A white iris," he tells you in a lofty tone. "A symbol of the dead. Funny it looks so lively on you."

You need to get out of here before your chest combusts.

"I need to go now, but I'll see you this evening, yes?" You ask, stepping instinctively closer. He doesn't back away.

"Of course. And, um," he takes your hands, keeps you where you stand as he slips the flower back behind your ear, "keep it. I want to see it on you at dinner."

He's close to you––close enough that it gets hard to distinguish his breath from your own, when you started holding his hand. When his other came up to your face. When he leans in and kisses your forehead. It's barely there, just barely, but there's no mistaking the soft plush, the affection clear behind gentle, precise movements.

You rush away the second he lets your hands go.

[shingia]

Hello!!! I love ur fics sm 😭💖 This is weirdly specific and been plaguing my mind for days,,, Can I req an angsty fic where Atsumu broke up with the reader because he wants to chase his dreams and ultimately leaves but with the reader saying "I'll wait" . A few months later he seeks for the reader again and finds out the reader has terminal illness and is dying. You can decide if there's major character death or a miracle,,,, please and thank u so much!!

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐨 - 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

aw thank youuuu <33 and also WOW this request is in-tense, i modified the ‘terminal illness’ part a little bit for plot convenience, but i rly hope you’re gonna like it ! i am : stressed. also, i’m a sucker for happy endings (just ignore my last bokuto fic) so i couldn’t go full angst on that one 😅

quick storytime : my great grandpa died from heartbreak and i always thought it was a beautiful (yet very sad) way to die, so i guess that’s where i got my inspiration from <3

⤷  atsumu x gn!reader | angst | word count : 1.7K

warnings : hospital environment, heart condition, mild description of ‘illness’ and mentions of death (a little)

your first kiss with miya atsumu had been sloppy, dizzy, with a strong scent of rum and smudged lip balm all over your lips. but there was no doubt that it had been the best kiss of your entire lives…

…just like your last had been the worst. 

two months later, atsumu still couldn’t forget the salty taste of your lips that begged him not to leave. if he focused hard enough, he could even remember the feeling of your hands desperately clinging to his jacket in a last attempt at making him stay by your side.

but he didn’t, and as much as he hated himself for putting an end - even temporary - to what had been the most beautiful chapter of his life, he had never regretted his decision ; and he knew exactly why. you had promised to wait for him, and in pure egoism, he knew and hoped that you would. because no matter the distance, he was still madly in love with you.

which is why he did not understand why osamu was so outraged when he told him that he was finally ready to come back to you. but the younger twin knew things that his brother didn’t - he had seen you let yourself waste away, like nothing else mattered without the one you loved.

but more than that, atsumu did not know about the secret his brother promised to keep. he did not know that, two weeks ago, osamu had found you unconscious in your living room with an alarmingly slow heartbeat. the poor boy had not understood everything the doctors had told him - but whatever a cardiogenic shock was, he knew that it would have carried you off if without his intervention.

however, you had been categorical : atsumu shouldn’t not know about this, under any pretext. you refused to be a burden to the pursuit of his dreams for which he had already sacrificed so much for. but now that atsumu was back, something about this promise didn’t sit right with his brother. and so he decided to tell him everything.

« …most doctors thought about a standard heart attack » he told him after explaining the situation, on the lookout for any impulsive reaction from his brother. « … but one of them talked about something else. you might want to sit down ».

but atsumu couldn’t care less about his brother’s advice. actually, he didn’t care about anything else than you right now. it was already taking a lot of effort for him to stand there listening to samu instead of being on his way to the hospital - but he stayed. for an obscure reason that he didn’t really understand, he stayed.

« did you know that people can die of heartbreak ? » osamu asked, more serious than he had ever been in his whole life. 

the blonde twin felt like the ground had suddenly swallowed him whole - although his brother was trying his best not to sound too accusating, it was more than obvious that whatever situation you were in was because of him. and only him.

« no they can’t » he tried to protest, not even believing in his own words. panic was beginning to win him over - and in a matter of seconds, he lost all his composure « WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT MOVING ? LET’S GO ! » he shouted, already opening the front door. at that moment, one question burned his lips, but he knew he would never have the guts to ask it out loud. 

‘did i kill them ?’

——

the steady beeps of all the machines around you were the only thing disrupting the deafening silence of your hospital room. you were sick of spending your days alone. but you had no right to complain, osamu had offered to come and see you after work every day, but you had politely refused. well, politely was a big word… your body was so exhausted that you had trouble articulating simple phrases, and therefore exclusively communicated through nods or hand gestures.

your phone had been confiscated and the doctors kept you away from the news - or at least from the negative news, because they knew that your heart might give out at the tiniest emotional distress.

which is why you were so surprised to hear a knock on your door at about 3pm, outside of the nurses’ shift hours. knowing that you were too weak to talk, osamu let himself in, slowly closing the door behind him before coming closer to your bed.

« how are you doing ? » he asked, resting his hands on the other end of the bed. you shrugged, pointing at the IV and all the monitoring surrounding you. as long as these machines were there, it was hard to feel better than just ok. « listen, um… someone is here for you. the doctors said i could bring him in, but i wanted your authorization first… » he started before clearing his throat. « atsumu is back. do you- are you ready to see him ? ».

ready was probably not an appropriated word. but after two months spent pretending that he was still laying next to you in bed every night, still texting you good morning every day, still sending you the dumbest memes at the most random times, it would have been a huge mistake to refuse osamu’s proposition.

and so he let him in. obviously, atsumu had orders from the doctors and his brother : don’t run, don’t move too fast, don’t speak too soon, don’t touch them without warning. but nobody had asked him not to cry. and how could his eyes stay dry when you looked so fragile and so vulnerable ?

osamu quietly left the room, leaving the two of you together not without apprehension. but if there was one thing he could trust his brother on, it was taking care of you. two months could not have gotten the better of four years of relationship.

but as much as he cared about you, atsumu had always been - and still was - pretty bad with words. and the first ones that left his mouth were a great example. « are you going to die ? » he asked in a shaky voice, brows knitted.

you would have given him an answer if you had one, but you didn’t. the doctors said that you had gone through the most painful part, but the risks of aggravations were still too important to let you go home. you were not 100% safe yet.

« i told you i’d wait » you spoke in a hoarse voice, the beep of your heart monitor getting a little bit faster.

the steps atsumu took towards you were slow, like he had been told, but just one glance at his eyes was enough to know that deep down, he was dying to feel your skin against his.

« i know you probably hate me right now. and for good reasons » he started as he sat on the chair next to your bed, still painfully avoiding any contact. « but there’s something i need to tell you, in case… in case… well, if something were to happen ».

his eyes lingered on your fingertips, blue and cold, and his whole body tensed at once. the thought that everything you were going through had been caused by his own selfishness was driving him crazy. but he had one last thing to keep himself grounded, and that thing was exactly what he was about to tell you.

« i love you. but i caused you so much trouble that i think there’s only one way to prove it… » he said, taking a deep breath before finally resting a timid hand on your arm. « i want to marry you. right now. i don’t fucking care if it’s not considered official, i just want you to know that leaving you was probably the biggest mistake i ever did. and that i’m not leaving ever again. so fuck it, let’s get married ! you almost died, life’s too short to plan a stupid ceremony ».

he stopped for a few seconds, panting from his teary monologue and paying attention to any beep or other sound that might indicate that he had made things worse for you. but it seemed like you were doing ok. how could you not be ? the love of your life had just proposed to you - sure, it wasn’t how you had imagined it, but wasn’t it even more beautiful like that ?

the tears that started rolling down your cheeks were undoubtedly tears of happiness and relief to know that, finally, your life was back to normal. atsumu was your normality, and for the first time in two months, you finally felt like you had a purpose. you had no idea if soulmates existed, but what you had with atsumu seemed more than close enough.

if someone had entered the room at that moment, it’d probably have taken them several minutes to understand what was going on. two young adults, crying yet smiling, one of them laying on a hospital bed looking like they had been through hell and back, and the other tearing off two pieces of his t-shirt and looking genuinely proud of himself -  nothing about this made sense.

« my apologies, it was the easiest way to make us rings » atsumu chuckled, eyes still blurry as grabbed your hand in his with infinite tenderness. slowly, he tied the piece of cloth around your ring finger, loosely enough so that the doctors would not consider it dangerous for your blood circulation.

« i’m keeping that until you’re getting out of here. by my side. » he affirmed, pointing at his own makeshift ring before looking right into your eyes, as serious as ever. « and i’m also keeping you. forever. consider this my wedding vows »

as much as he hated to phrase it like that, you could both die in peace now.

i spent so much time on medical sites to be as accurate as i could, i felt like meredith mf grey for a few hours

@toworuu @catwithangerissues