#plus i didnt actually see it for myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waterfallofspace · 4 months

Text

What A Way To Start A Year

T/im learns a little something about karma, friends, and care. Seems even J/on isn't quite as cold as he seems.

A M/agnus A/rchives fic, set somewhere pre-season 1. Shouldn't have any spoilers, but proceed with caution just incase~ (nothing late game, just character dynamic things)

Welcome to "I meant for this to be a little drabble and I wrote 3k words"~ Having a bit of hyperfixation and burn out as I started this new year, soooo I decided to make T/im suffer <3 Not promising quality seeing as I wrote this all in the span of tonight, but consider it a lil 'too long' drabble, and happy new years!

Best way to start off the new year, giving one of your lil guys a lil snz <3

Characters: T/im, M/artin, S/asha, and J/on. Word Count: 3.9k

(CW: There is some swearing, and light descriptions of high fevers)

Christmas had been good this year, maybe the best it had in a long time. Life of the party as always, Tim had enjoyed getting to spend it with his old, and new, colleagues. On top of that, Jon had been laid up with a pretty awful cold for a couple days leading up to it, so he wasn’t around to crush any brilliant ideas Tim came up with.

This led to the budget receiving a fairly substantial hit, though many researchers donated to the cause when they learned this borrowing wasn’t exactly approved. Hell, even Elias had pitched in, claiming something or other about ‘archivists fit for the job not exactly growing on trees’, and wanting to ‘save some of Jon’s sanity’.

“Tim? Are you even listening to me?”

Pulled back to the conversation at hand, Tim lifts his gaze to the taller man fidgeting nervously in front of him. Martin was never one for confrontations, and usually the first ‘no’ would have been more than enough to lead to a string of apologies for even asking. Today however, he seems to have grown a spine. At the worst possible moment.

“Oh come on,” Martin continues, missing the groan slipping from Tim’s throat. “Even Jon agreed to it!”

“I’m not really in the party mood,” Tim retorts, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, Jon didn’t agree to celebrate, he agreed not to stop the celebration. Not the same thing.”

From across her desk, Sasha gives a low chuckle. “He’s got you there, Martin.”

“Can you at least give it a little thought before turning it down?” Martin insists, completely out of character for someone usually so eager to please.

What the hell has gotten into him today? He didn’t even seem to enjoy himself that much at the Christmas party. Sure, he had a few drinks and mingled with the staff, but he’d left as soon as it was over, not waiting around for chatting like Tim and Sasha.

Clearing his throat with a grimace, Tim casts Sasha a dark look as she chuckles again. Knowing far too much, as usual. Especially when it came to him. If it was anyone else, Tim would hate it with all his being, but given that it’s Sasha… well it’s a welcome invasion.

Still, it would be nice if she didn’t rat him out. And to Martin of all people, well let’s just say he saw what happened when Jon was sick. Yeah, passing on that one. Attention is great, Tim lives for it, but the coddling? Not really his style.

“hiEH– guh…”

Damn, that had been a close one. Thankfully Martin seems oblivious, though Sasha sits up in her chair, reaching down into a drawer to fish something out.

Turning his focus back to Martin, Tim provides an offer, desperate to just have the interaction come to an end.

“Fine, I’ll show up, but I don’t want any part in planning it.”

“Oh of course, I’ll handle all the details, I mean it’s just a new years party, how much can there really be to do? I mean food, timing, gotta make sure we have keys to the building– oh but if Jon’s there, that shouldn’t be a problem…” Martin says, rambling beginning to fade into the background as Tim finds himself unable to-

“hH– ek’CHhiew!”

“-Oh, bless you!” Martin says, his own thoughts long forgotten.

Unable to get a word out, Tim merely waves a hand, ducking into his shoulder for another, “eTChhew!”

“Bles-”

And another, “iTSChh’ew!”

“Oh ble-”

And another, “ehh– kTChh’iew!”

Silently Sasha stands, handing Tim a pack of tissues. Must have been what she was looking for in the desk. Once again, knowing more than she should, of course she picked up on his patterns.

Accepting them gratefully, Tim pulls a few out and roughly rubs at his nose, pointedly avoiding Martin’s worried gaze. Gripping his still trembling nose through the tissue, Tim sucks in a tight breath through his teeth, holding for a beat, before finally spinning around in his chair for a final-

“hH’ETCSHh-ieuw! Whew, bless me.”

Martin’s hands are fidgeting again, seemingly unsure of what to do with himself as Tim gives his nose a light massage through the tissue. He’s aware enough not to point it out, but is nearly shaking with the effort of suppressing his concerns.

With a sigh, Tim meets his eyes. “I’m fine, Martin. I always sneeze like that.” He leaves out ‘when I’m sick’. It also happens if he’s suffering allergies, though he doubts that would be a point in his defense given it’s the middle of winter.

“Yeah he’s not kidding,” Sasha pipes up, throwing Tim a wink as he glares. “You should hear him in spring, once it starts he can be going for hours.”

“I wouldn’t say hours, Sash-”

“Remember the cherry blossom incident?” Sasha interrupts, sending a sugary smile over to Martin. “He was wrecked for the rest of the day, I was almost certain he was never gonna stop. Even considered giving a statement here, that reaction was almost supernatural.”

Tim winces, an audible moan slipping from his lips. “We swore to never speak of it again.”

Sasha laughs, Tim giving her another playful glare from behind his tissues. “You swore that, I did no such thing.”

Thankfully Martin doesn’t pry, having enough common sense to offer a polite chuckle, and offer some excuse about ‘planning’. Still, he can’t help himself from shooting a meek “I hope you feel better soon” over his shoulder, Tim giving him finger guns in return.

“This is karma, you know,” Sasha calls after Martin’s outside earshot. “You took pleasure in Jon’s suffering, so now it’s your turn to suffer the same fate.”

“No, thi- eTChhew! Scuse me,” Tim says, rubbing his nose with the tissue one last time before depositing it in his nearly overflowing trash can. Another tissue is plucked as his eyes begin to water, nostrils flaring with reckless abandon. Never just one.

“kTChh’uew! hh’iTChh –uew! Tihhckles… eTCHh! etchh’uh! hiehh–”

The last one toys with him, tracing the rims of his nostrils, back up his sinuses, a gentle itch that seems to burn against every inch of his nose. Finally, with a desperate gasp, Tim ducks into his wrist for the last, “heh’ATChhh –iew!”

“Many blessings. Sounds like you need them,” Sasha offers with a wince, tossing another pack of tissues over, which Tim catches with a single hand, the other still gripping his nose.

After taking a moment to clean himself up, Tim shoots her his signature smile, ignoring the eye roll she shoots back. “Where was I?”

“Admitting this is karma?”

“It’s not karma, it’s lack of common sense. Going to a party where a coworker is sick, and still drinking and eating the same meals” Tim says, aiming a rough cough into his sleeve.

Sasha winces once more at the quality of the cough, hands rummaging through her drawers once more as she tosses a reply back. “And yet you’re the only one who caught it. Seems like karma to me.”

Closing the distance between them in a single stride, Sasha places a hand on Tim’s shoulder, voice softening. “It’s two days till new years, why don’t you go home and try to get some rest? I doubt Martin will object, and I’ll cover for you with Jon.”

Before Tim can form his rebuttal, Sasha places a box of paracetamol and a jar of vapor rub in front of him. Nodding his thanks, Tim lets out another harsh cough into his arm, leaning as far away from Sasha as he can manage.

With a light rub to his shoulder, Sasha walks to the door, holding it open with a pointed look. “Go home, you sound awful.”

“Alright, alright. I got the message. hH’ETchhiew!” Tim says, gathering his care package and beginning his walk down the hallway.

“If I hear the rest of that fit happening in this building, I’m telling Martin how ill you really are,” Sasha calls after him, a smile flashing over her face as Tim holds up his hands in mock surrender, before ducking back into his arm with another muffled burst.

—

“You look horrible.”

Tim manages a weary smile from behind the tightly wound scarf. “Thagk you.”

Martin winces, standing in the doorframe, seemingly oblivious to the winter chill soaking into Tim’s bones. Even just the walk from the train station was hell on earth, standing out here is doing him no favours.

Turning away with a throat scraping cough, Tim manages to clear the congestion enough to finish the sentence somewhat understandably. A great feat, given how fast his voice is retreating. “May I remind you that I’m only here because you insisted.”

“Right, well I… I didn’t know how bad-” Martin begins, realizing spreading across his face like a wildfire as a chill leaves Tim breathless. “Oh god, I’m making you freeze to death while you’re already this sick, I’m so sorry, come in, I’ll go make you a tea.”

Tim nods his thanks as he piles inside the warm institute, cursing his aching lungs as each breath of warm air seems to burn them from the inside out. Martin rushes away, nearly crashing into a few researchers as he makes his frantic dash for the kitchen.

The scarf is reluctantly removed, a shudder running through Tim’s back as the warm air does nothing to soothe what he’s now certain is a growing fever. A few researchers wave to him, offering some idle chit-chat as he makes his way inside.

For the most part, people give him a wide berth, apparently he looks as bad as he feels. Tissues in hand, gripping them like a lifeline, Tim finds his way to a couch and lets himself sink into it. The party buzzes around him, fading into background noise.

Martin returns soon after, the mug vibrating slightly as he attempts to steady his hand. “I wasn’t sure what kind you’d want, we have a pretty limited amount, but I have a few extras in my desk– oh I could have probably found one for colds and flus, I’m not sure which this is, I thought cold before but you look-”

“Martin,” Tim interrupts, voice cutting uncomfortably through his raw throat. “Can I have the cup?”

“Oh, right, sorry!” Martin says, a sheepish grin crossing his face, nerves more than anything else, as he hands Tim the mug. Tim gives another appreciative nod, taking a cautious sip.

The warm liquid feels like heaven against his throat, and he barely manages to choke back a whimper. The flavour is still a mystery, Martin never actually got to that part. Given how little he can taste at the moment, seems it’s gonna remain that way. Still, the heat beginning to warm his chest is a welcome relief, and Tim has to fight to keep his eyes from drifting shut…

“Watch out!”

The voice rouses him, his eyes snapping open just in time to witness Jon dropping to his knees in front of the couch. The realization doesn’t sink in for another minute, Tim blinking the tired from his eyes and trying to figure out why people are staring… and why there’s a hand on his finge–

Oh, the tea. Thankfully Jon’s reflexes seemed to kick in just in time, his hands guiding Tim’s cup to the table next to him. Judgement clouds the boss's eyes as he turns back, fully ready to chastise Tim, no doubt. Jon opens his mouth, one hand beginning to point, but as his eyes scan Tim’s form, his demeanor changes instantly.

“You don’t seem well.” Jon’s voice is still firm, but with a hint of something Tim can’t quite place. On anyone else, he’d call it concern. On Jon… perhaps concern isn’t far off, though the underlying criticism of the statement irritates him.

“I wonder why that could be? It’s almost as if someone came to the Christmas party sick enough to fall asleep standing. Twice.” Tim says, sarcasm lining his words, alongside the congestion he can’t seem to fully shake.

“Well in that case,” Sasha chimes in, cheerful voice a natural antithesis to the misery coursing through Tim’s system. “Seems you’re halfway there!”

“Hey, I was lying down, that’s hardly the sahh… same thing– hH’ETchh!”

“Here we go,” Sasha says, already turning on her heel to find a tissue box as Tim’s hitches increase in desperation.

“aHTChh’ew! gn’tchhew!”

“Bless,” Jon offers, a brief confusion crossing his face as Sasha laughs, shaking her head.

“He’s not done,” She says, handing over the tissue box.

Tim grabs for it blindly, too caught up in the fit to even attempt dignity. Still, the eyes on him do leave him with a hint of embarrassment, and the onslaught is muffled as best he can manage. “hH’MMpshhew! eMPFShh’ieh! hh’MFSHhueh!”

Blessings sound out from the room, Tim managing to wave a hand towards the ones offering them, eyes still watering. As the fit seems to stall, he lowers his tissues, red nose now visibly twitching.

“Are you alright?” Jon asks, the hint of concern from before now plainly evident. That’s frankly more alarming than it should be, and Tim finds himself wanting to… reassure the boss.

“I’m okay, it’s juhh… j-just… huhh–” But it seems his nose has other plans, a tissue being raised once more as Tim paws at the appendage. “‘Scuhhse me, I still have… hahhve to… to… hiHh– eTCHh’ew! hk’ASCHh–oo!”

This time the tickle fades with the final pitchy sneeze, Tim letting out a low groan as he mashes his nose into the ever growing collection of tissues he’s clutching. A few people call out final blessings, Sasha laughing out hers as Tim’s face goes red once more.

Martin picks this time to enter the room with drinks, Tim letting his eyes flutter shut as the focus shifts off his misery. A gentle touch keeps him from drifting off to sleep, prying open an eye to find Sasha settling onto his left.

“Careful, don’t want to catch this,” Tim manages, leaning against his right shoulder to muffle another stream of chesty coughs. Sasha winces as it goes on past the realm of comfort, her hand finding his back.

“Don’t worry about me, I haven’t earned this cold, I didn’t make use of Jon’s or your suffering,” She says, the playful tone not masking the growing worry in her posture.

While she can read him like a book, she’s no mystery to him either. The tension in her fingers, absentmindedly stroking patterns on his back. The way she subconsciously tries to support his body weight, despite them both sitting. The look in her eyes when he manages to stall the coughing long enough to meet them.

With this brief respite from the attack, Sasha takes the chance to bring Tim’s tea back, his fingers wrapping around the warm mug. The first few sips burn, his lungs protesting, begging to return to their efforts to expel all the irritation. By the third, however, the warmth is spreading once more, easing the spasms.

“Alright?” Sasha asks, beginning to stand from the couch. Tim nods his reply, taking another slow sip. “Think you’ll make it till midnight? We’ve still got a few hours to go.”

He nods his approval again, not yet trusting his voice enough to make an attempt. Sasha simply smiles, easing back into the party that– Tim had almost forgotten existed. That fever must be worse than he thought, given how loud it is. A fact that’s now pounding against his head in harmony with his heartbeat.

The party continues on, Sasha and Martin taking turns checking in on Tim as he slips rapidly in and out of consciousness. Seconds turn to hours, and before he knows it, it’s two minutes to midnight.

As Tim blinks against the harsh fluorescent lighting, it’s Jon that stands before him, hand hovering near his side. Tim begins to speak, breaking off into a cough as his voice comes out rough with sleep and congestion.

“What’s up boss?” He manages with the second attempt, not missing Jon’s wince at the nasal quality.

“You simply look… well, the festivities are nearly over, I was just inquiring as to…” Jon seems to get stuck, eyes wandering down to the couch as he finishes. “I know you took the train here, I was seeing if you needed an escort home.”

“How kind, I’d be delighted to have your accompaniment,” Tim responds, the wit clouding the fact he… hadn’t actually considered needing to go home. Jon seems to take this answer as satisfactory, ignoring all the sarcasm as he gives a tight nod and an out of practice smile.

From across the room Martin calls out, something about a countdown. Tim attempts to pull himself to a stand, finding Sasha’s arm around his waist, guiding him to the wall. Leaning against it, he lets his rough voice join the chorus as they count into the new year.

Despite how the lights and noise had pounded into his skull, everyone chanting in unison helps Tim realize that… there actually aren’t that many people here. Aside from his coworkers, there’s only a few researchers, and Elias is not in attendance.

Honestly, thank whatever cosmic being may exist for that one, he had been none too fond of Jon’s arriving sick. Tim shudders to think what he would have said about this state. He shouldn’t have come, but… something about how insistent Martin was… well he just couldn’t disappoint that loveable idiot.

Somehow Tim finds he’s managed to keep up with the counting, despite being worlds away in his thoughts. As they approach the final numbers, a feathery sensation begins to spread through his nostrils- no.

Absolutely not, this is not the time. It’s never just one, there’s not enough people here, someone’s gonna notice. And I mean, it’s not like he’s hiding the fact he feels like death, but… drawing that much attention is also not the goal.

“Five! Four!”

“hiehh- h’ngTchh!” He manages to stifle the first, the congestion pounding in his head as the tickle seems to only get worse.

“Three! Two!”

“I cad’t– nNDtch! nGTCh’uh!”

“One–”

As the cheers begin to erupt, Tim ducks into the tissues with a scraping, “ehg’TCHhiew!”

“Happy new years!”

“yiEShh’iew! etchh’uh! hH’AESHH –oo!” Tim dips into his hands again, managing to sink down against the wall as he lets out a congested blow, ending the fit.

“What a way to ring in the new year,” Comes Sasha’s voice, her form blocking the light from Tim’s eyes as he looks up, fever blurring his vision.

“Shud ub.”

“Christ Tim, you sound awful,” Jon adds, his form appearing behind Sasha’s.

“Thagks boss,” Tim retorts, groaning as he notices a third form, Martin’s nervous fidgeting easy to spot even from this angle. Martin remains silent, though his eyes seem to hold more concern than any of them, and… guilt? Or maybe that’s just the delirium.

Glancing up to meet Sasha’s gaze, Tim offers a weary, “Tibe to go hobe?”

She nods softly, kneeling to help him to his feet, Martin wordlessly taking his other arm. Jon stands off to the side, hesitating. What for, who knows. All Tim can focus on is one step after the other, just gotta make it home, then he can sleep. For the rest of forever, at this rate.

As they get to the door, Martin helps wrap the scarf around Tim’s neck, forcing him to lift it from its perch against Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha, for her part, supports his weight with ease, she was always stronger than she looked.

Martin keeps casting glances towards Tim, obviously fretting over something. Too tired to manage his usual charm, Tim gives Martin the softest look he can manage. “Jusd say id, please. You’re makigg me nervous.”

“I’m so sorry I asked you to come, you’re obviously so unwell, and I know I didn’t really know that at the time, but I should have, or at least texted and checked in, I just… I wanted us all to get along so bad and I thought if you came it would mean more fun because you’re always so lively and good at talking to people and-”

Tim holds up a hand, eyes glazing over as Martin stops short, breath coming almost as rapidly as Tim’s. After a minute goes by, Martin starts to open his mouth, seeming confused by the interruption, before nearly jumping out of his skin as Tim ducks into his fist.

“eTCHh’ew! hH’YEAShh –iew! Sorry, I feld those cobigg… waid– hih’ETCHhew! heAYSHh’oo!” Tim ducks down again, Sasha grabbing him tighter to support the harsh shudders as he attempts to keep his balance.

“Oh bless you,” Martin offers, voice coming out timid. Tim gives him, what he hopes is, a warm smile despite the fever taking hold of the last corners of his mind.

“If I didn’t wanna cobe, I would have stayed hobe. I dod’t blame you.”

Martin nods silently, a relief seeming to flood his face. Taking his place once more supporting Tim, they move towards the exit. Opening the door, the first wave of cold floods the entryway, and a chill so violent runs through Tim that both Martin and Sasha take a step back to brace him.

It’s now that Jon speaks up, voice strained with a type of worry Tim hadn’t heard before. “No, we’re absolutely not doing this, I refuse.”

The trio turn towards him. Though perhaps a more accurate description is that Martin and Sasha turn, Tim simply goes along for the ride. Martin mumbles something about ‘no other choice’, but Sasha asks what Jon’s on about.

“It’s too cold out there, it’s the middle of the damn night, there’s no way I’m letting him go home like this.”

“And what do you suggest we do as an alternative? He can’t stay here-” Sasha begins, pausing as Jon turns towards her.

“Why not? I’m the archivist, this is my archive,” Jon begins, pausing for a moment, before adding, “Well, Elias’s, but I hardly think he’d suggest we send an employee home in this weather while they’re this sick. That’s just bad management, he’ll freeze to death before even reaching the train.”

As if to confirm this assumption, Tim shudders violently, ducking into his chest with a tired, “hh’eshhew! eTCHh’iew!” followed by a heavy sigh. Martin mumbles something about covering, but quickly silences himself as Tim begins to tremble again.

Sasha gives Jon a look, seeming to read him for any hints of doubt, perhaps searching for an ulterior motive. After a brief pause, their eyes meeting, she gives a tight nod, approval of some kind.

“Come on Martin, let’s get him back to that couch, he can sleep there for the night,” Sasha directs, Martin nodding his acceptance.

Tim manages to catch snippets of the conversation as they get him settled. Jon fetching him a blanket he keeps in his office. Martin providing some more tea. Sasha grabbing tissues and medication for when he wakes up. Something about Jon sleeping in his office so he’s not alone, and Sasha coming in early to help him home.

With his final bout of consciousness, Tim holds up a hand, the conversation immediately pausing. “Thagk you guys. And… esSHhh’ew! And, I’b sorry.”

All three stare at him for a minute, before Sasha breaks first. Her laughter fills the silence, Martin joining in soon after, and even Jon letting a few chuckles slip out. When they’ve finally collected themselves, Sasha gives Tim a warm smile.

“Sleep well, Tim. I’ll come fetch you in the morning.”

With a content sigh, Tim lets his eyes drift shut again, his consciousness fading to the soft hum of his friends in the background.

Alright, so maybe coddling isn’t quite so bad after all.

#waterfallwrites #the m/agnus a/rchives #was that my tag?? i think it was ahuguh #anyways i wrote this in a flurry of 'i need to do something about my hyperfixation' induced attention span #took many breaks but all in all took about 6ish hours (including the breaks)#and im kinda proud of myself for just! doing it!!#props to my friend for telling me to 'just write something with no pressure and let it be what it is'#so this is a drabble that turned into an actual fic bc i didnt! pressure myself!#if it sucks it sucks- if it doesnt it doesnt- whatever it is i made it and im gonna be happy with that #plus its t/ma which rn is just... SOOO it for me. i am so hyperfixated #and t/im is my beloved i love this man #and i may possibly try to write about j/ons version of this cold and maybe The Cherry Blossom Incident #but i actually have a different t/ma fic in the works so that one comes first <3 #anyways yes here you go!! i toss this into the void! and see if! anyone wants it!#t/ma #t/im s/toker

24 notes · View notes

perenlop · 1 year

Text

havent read tbc but i think its so funny how shadowsight seems to be popular to the people i follow just because “the narrative treats him like all the female characters do so hes an honorary girlie”

#and by ''how the narrative treats him'' they mean badly ofc bc apparently everything is blamed on him repeatedly #w no one realizing that he was manipulated and the narrative being retconned just to say hes actually a screwup who was never good #and everything genuinely is his fault bc why else would he listen to an evil cat in starclan #like. damn that really is something theyd do to a female protagonist #also the only ppl ive seen hating on him do it for boring and stupid reasons so im inclined to like him out of spite #bc ''he has an ILLEGAL name in this universe. hes a TIGERDOVE kid. hes a FANFICTION made REAL'' ok well hes the most interesting one. so.#not like anything he actually does in the narrative it seems. plus the other two protags sound boring as hell #''oh im sad i couldnt get w the boy i like. now i love another guy but its forbidden. oh and my leaders possessed ig.''#''SIGH i wish people didnt compare me to my cringe OUTSIDER dad. also i see ghosts and i hate this its cringe''#''also my sister is a legacy name after an important character from the previous arc but who cares''#and then shadowsight is like ''since i was an infant i had excruiciating seizures and visions. i threw myself into a river as a sacrifice #i am suicidal. i got manipulated by an evil man into possessing my great uncle. everyone outwardly wants me dead for it #everyone blames all of their problems on me and expects a lot from me. i got demoted for it. my only support is my close family #and even then they have to suffer the extreme guilt of not being able to help me with literally anything #also the antagonist wants my mom dead for my own existence. i have lost so much #i am literally blamed by god for everything thats happened to be despite being used by them since i was an infant and thats where my story e #ends''#like fuck. yeah he is an honorary girlie to me. i barely know u man but like i support u. cmere be my pet cat #echoed voice

12 notes · View notes

chibikinesis · 1 year

Text

#life be giving me whiplash lately lmao #my banana boat is down again - an oil leak that shorted my starter 🙃#stressful time of year because we're coming up on both dads birthday and one year since his passing just a few weeks later #but I also finally bit the bullet and fessed up to the dude ive had feelings for for a while now #totally set myself up for disappointment because thats just been what lifes been handing me for the last year and a half or so #but it actually went really fuckin' well #he was essentially in the same boat as me #definitely FEELING something but valuing the friendship so much that it crippled us both #we've both helped one another grow so much over the last year or so and sort of restored a bit of one anothwrs' faith in humanity #didnt wanna risk fuckin' that up #plus he just assumed I wouldn't feel that way #but yeah it went really well and I'm REALLY proud of myself for taking that leap of faith 🥹#i told him I'm not expecting anything right out the gates #mostly just trying to open that dialog with him and to spend more time together #see where things go #met up in person to talk about it a bit today and be brought me a fuckin' bouquet 🥺😭#this is some straight up 'mutual pining but they're idiots' shit 😂#but its cute and im glad it ended up the way it did 💚#AND I've already had the asexuality discussion with him so he knows and is entirely cool with it 🥹💚#actually had that talk before feelings evem came into the equation

11 notes · View notes

heartyearning · 1 year

Text

dating when autistic is like taking a quiz and whenever you’re about to ask a really really easy question it’s like jumping up and down in your seat going “oh! oh! i know this one!”

#not actually being disparaging towards myself btw. it went alright! it didnt go splendid but it certainly was not bad #i did a few no no's that i was a little too autistic to prevent in real time but yk i didnt kill my date or whatever #anyway they're 25 and im 21 and im pretty sure it's not gonna go anywhere bc i really felt that age difference #i mean i wouldn't mind if it went somewhere (theyre so beautiful) but i think it was clear that they had like #much more of a life than i do #idk ! idk. idk if im seeing it too limitedly bc i was hyperfocussed on what i did ~wrong but yeah #i mean we went to a play that i had to see for class and i thought no one from my school would be there bc they were all just in venice #and i was right in terms of no one from MY year was there but there was a first year who im friendly with and she looked lost n she saw us #and asked if she could sit with us and i . didnt know how to say no esp bc i felt bad for her bc she's just a wisp of a thing #and she just . deeply makes me wanna take care of her. so IDK plus then so many other people i know showed up #and i did try to like. not be Like That but well it is what it is #but god theyre beautiful and fun and i chose SUCH a winner for the play to take them to #(the play was rly good btw literally one of THEE plays ive ever seen but it was also very high fashion / drag / lights & music)#anyway. ive decided i shan't be overthinking it.

8 notes · View notes

subconsciousmysteries · 1 year

Text

I don't believe anyone is actually mistyped providing they are using the enneagram and cognitive functions the correct way, which is to observe Movements in their psyche.

If you're identifying with a type because you fit a static image that people have put forth for that enneatype, but you never actually observe any of that type's movements in yourself, then yeah, you can call yourself "mistyped".

#I mistyped as 9 because I wasn't observing any actual 9 -> 6 or 9 -> 3 #I was relating to Chestnut's static description of 9s but not observing any actual movement #I was vaguely observing 9 -> 3 #nowadays I can see the 9 in me properly and its there for sure but not as strong as I thought it was #I mistyped as 4 because I was emo and depressed. never observed a single movement there til I started arting recently #Never mistyped as 6 because I was like... er... it is absurd that I'm disintegrating into 3. im open minded to it but can never see 6 -> 3 #tho I always knew my head fix was definitely 6 #never mistyped as 5 because I didnt understand it #just knew I was a lot like a 5 #but when I told ppl I was a 5 they laughed at me #and I was like yeah true I relate to 6 more anyway #but no matter how much I related to 6 as a static type I always Knew I was a 5 when stressed... the movement was so strong.#and it came out when I was stressed like all the time #mistyped as 7 for a bit because people told me to be a 7w6 when I first discovered ennea. so I was like sure #I missed my 2 fix until my friend called it out. then I realized oof youre right. I can observe 2 movement in me #but I disintegrate to 5 more than 8 #and I just neglected 8 altogether because of all the drama people made about 8 on the internet. I was like #I'm not looking here. Not touching this. the drama isnt worth it plus its like I dont wanna confront these patterns in myself too #the internet is full of all these psycho 1s who wanna be 8s and they prevent anyone from deeply exploring what 8 means #due to a combination of envying real 8s (their 1 -> 4 makes them nuts like that) and loathing / fearing real 8-ness #since it is their opposing force #I loathe and fear real 1-ness #that's for sure #its a hell of a lot for me to go into the headspace of a 1 and write posts on 1 #but also therapeutic #the static images of types are needed to help us know whats going on... these are the Conscious... the exploration of the movement #is the Subconscious Mystery #1 is the conscious and 8 is the unconscious #125 = conscious... 478 = unconscious #many have described it this way

2 notes · View notes

kingmaximusboltagon · 1 year

Text

ok i had the show just playing on the tv during my day off a bit ago while i was Choring About. and im thinking so hard about maximus again.

that scene where he's confronting tibor and he's like "leaving isn't the right word, because that implies a goodbye. you abandoned me."?

his nightmare about the family returning and knowing what he's done, but bb's face is hidden by the glare of the sun, his powers and true person that abstract to max that his subconcious can't even put his face on it? his final scene with medusa where she apologizes for not being there but he completely rejects her and says that with her head shaved, she knew exactly how he felt all those years?

the confession scene with bb? "we are brothers. thats why you should know the truth." the fact that he's so tearing up and paired with the nightmare scene, its so obvious he does blame himself for their deaths, but he just lays into bb, because he wants him to kill him? the fact that when he does finally apologize, when he does finally realize he screwed up, it's too late, it's years too late, and nobody was going to come back for him?

does he ever find out gorgon was revived? i dont think they shared a scene post like,,, episode two's phone call. would seeing what a second terrigenisis did to gorgon have changed his mind at all? would he still insist on it, even with the consequences looking him straight in the face? was there absolutely anything or anyone that could have convinced him he was going to destroy everything he loved for the chance at powers?

he's SUCH a compelling character in this version, i love how fucked up and angry he is, i love how multiple people try to save him but he's so convinced he's been abandoned that they end up doing the exact thing he was so scared of in the first place. it's so unbelievably sad but it's also so interesting to watch unfold!!! prince blorbo my absolute beloved 🥺

#theres a lot of scenes i didnt mention here either #shoutout to his talk with crystal on the balcony!!! LOVE his interactions with crystal #theres like probably 3 altogether but im still obsessed #very fond of how she's like. the only one max doesnt try to kill or kick out? plus he has that 'id never hurt crystal' dialogue #in a call with uhhhh medusa iirc in one ep #i genuinely think he believed he just needed to officially granted king and get a power and then #everything would return to 'normal'#bc past a certain point he doesnt even seem that concerned w killing bb!! he stops caring entirely about anything that isnt terrigenisis #if he had yielded. would bb have actually allowed it? would they have really let him go through with it?#i still think they were setting up hid telepathy for a 2 #2nd season. they mention multiple terrigen exposures can lead to madness and max already had some dna injected into him #he was totally gonna get some sick ass telepathy for season 2 and im SO SAD we'll never see it :(#currently deluding myself into believing he got in the quantum realm somehow and ahura's down there too #and theyre both chilling with kang and theyre gonna escape and go to attilan <3 and bb and medusa are going to adopt their boys back <3 #i would KILL for abc maximus to return i miss him and i love him so much irs unreal #maximus boltagon #tibor inhumans #blackagar boltagon #medusalith amaquelin #gorgon petragon #royal family #inhumans

6 notes · View notes

shmingleping · 8 months

Text

Meh.

#too uppity rn #have a dull headache #my hair is tied up too tight too which isnt helping #but i did this to myself #i should have paid better attention #not been so quick to go through everything #bc now im left with a feeling i cant get rid of in the way id most prefer #bc it would be the quickest way to undo this feeling #but i was careless as usual #kinda hate how much this feeling is reminding me of when i was having really bad anxiety everyday #i couldnt even function #i guess that does actually relate to my reality now huh #just a different kind of inability to function is occurring now #i hate myself #the moments i start to feel better are also the moments i feel shame and guilt and sadness for all that happened that led me here #and the times i still continue to choose this instead of doing what would benefit me now& in the future plus my mom and her future #i hate being like this and knowing i cant really feel that emotion as deeply as i would if i didnt make myself numb to it all 24/7 #i dont want to be like this forever i dont think #but i cant see any other way either #and thats completely on me and no one else #its my extreme hatred for everything about myself that completely effects the way i walk through the world and my views on it all #i wish i were a better person for my mom i just dont think i ever was in the way she says i was #idk i really fucking hate thinking #especially at this time of night #always alone with my thoughts and memories never letting me forget the things i wish would go away #and always forgetting the things i really wish i could remember and hold on to #uh oh i think i might cry #well fuck that was not the intended outcome of this at all #thoughts #personal

0 notes

roachfurby · 8 months

Text

need to find me a dilf so i can adopt his kids!!!!! and be a devoted parent and partner!!!!!!

#i have. baby fever #im really weepy abt it #if u are a single dad. u kno where 2 find me (cracker barrel gift shop plushy wall)#(im picking out a plushy for your kid)#like. THEORETICALLY i could just have a kid myself. but my genetics....... oof #this bloodline ends with me #plus i didnt freeze any eggs so who knows if testosterone left any. if i become financially stable i might fuck around and find out #ALSO not to get Sad but i dont think we talk abt trans grief over infertility enough. if you dont have money you dont have a choice #my main reason for not freezing was cost. govt insurance wouldnt cover it. it was either dont transition or become probably sterile #and the former was not an option for me #the only time i see it talked abt is when our infertility issues are weaponized against us by right wingers #'theyre sterilizing our kids 🥺🥺🥺' they WOULDNT be if alternative fertility options esp long term fertility planning was not SO EXPENSIVE #and hmmm.... which side generally vetoes the medical care cost cap and universal insurance bills.... hmmmmmmm #this made my migraine worse actually

1 note · View note

thatdeadaquarius · 8 months

Note

Okay so-- i was reading some sagau posts and came across this one where the reader was an army vet and my brain just Did Its Thing--

So now I'm here to inflict this on to you--

Would guns be considered as catalysts. And would they only do Phys Damage.

Me reading this ask:

😶 😐 🤨 🧐 🧐 😰 🥲 😭😭😭 💀

STOP YOU'VE INFLICTED ME WITH PSYCHOLOGICAL DMG FROM THIS ASK 😭

(Also srry took so long to respond, when i didnt realize how short this was/was just sitting over here 😓)

^ For the sake of gun imagery being a lot/maybe staff might hate me for it,

we'll put this gay shit instead (i almost mispelled to "gay shot" lmao)

☆

Sun: Army Veteran Reader, Gender neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: SHORT Headcanons

Stars: everybody bc i think itd be funny

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: gun stuff, mild violence, mild cursing & Trigger Warnings: Gun fun everywhere

THIS ASK HAS ME GIGGLING TO MYSELF LIKE A MANIAC

You're out here having a whole gun they let you take for off-base

And u ofc have a license so u can conceal carry

(idk how non-american gun laws work, but tbh ours are so fucked idk how they work here either, just that an army guy i knew once could have his gun when he got back home)

And ofc ur just paranoid enough (more like it just makes u feel safe)

That when u get yoinked into a portal to a silly little brightly colored gacha game fantasy world, the gun comes with 💀

Id like to add in my silly little "ur in a video game, so video game rules" AU version of genshin so:

The only other gun (ish) wielder (Mika) has unlimited bolts

Sooo I'd think your gun would be the same jfc lol

NO BC YOUD SCARE THE ACTUAL SHIT OUT OF EVERYONE IN UR VICINITY IN A BATTLE

BC GUNSHOTS ARE A DIFFERENT TYPE OF LOUD

When u first stumble into abyss monsters/hostile creatures of the realm, u nearly scare off a Lawlachurl bc every shot's like thunder to these bitches😭

So not only the monsters but the vision holders think u fucking summoned lightning

OMG THE BULLETS ARE SO FAST THEYD PROBABLY NOT SEE IT

ESP BC DISTRACTED BY GUNSHOT LOUDNESS

SO U AIM THIS LITTLE BLACK CROSSBOW (???) AND THINGS JUST DIE (OR GET RIDDLED WITH HOLES) WITH NO CLEAR ARROW STICKING OUT

STOPP- you're becoming a witchy god or smth to all of Teyvat bc it just looks like hella high level magic atp to them LMAOOO

Rumors of you get out of hand and say u just point or snap ur fingers and things get wounded/just die on the spot 💀

Oh another difference between Teyvatians seeing ur gun vs. crossbow (what they know)

Is that guns are wayyyy more destructive

Like an arrow would get shot but it'd bounce off of things like rock or wood or metal, maybe dent a little depending on how close

But a bullet goes thru that shit so easy, and leaves a whole little explosion behind, once again depending on range

(I once saw a Mythbusters episode? of them proving bullets would definitely go thru car doors, like movies lied to u, this is why drive-bys acc work like for gangs)

Lmao, the image of you in like full armor with a Teyvat made automatic gun after showing it to blacksmiths

Makes u just more convincing as a god, esp bc military training

(Ppl like Gorou and Kokomi begging for military tactics/training ur world has done)

...

....Ok.

I'll address it.

But only so u dont think im stupid later.

Yes, the Fatui have guns.

No, this not the same as having a glock LMAO

End of story.

(Also, urs runs on bullets, whereas the Fatui rely on magic/delusions to power theirs, plus they dont seem as fast or destructive as urs, more "explosions aimed at you" than real bullets)

Which,,, u leave the managing of ppl copying ur gun to ppl like the Qixing or smth, but make sure to give them advice on good gun laws if teyvat accidentally revolutionizes bc of ur advanced gun that anybody can wield (non-vision users)

Thats the best ive got abt that

Oh, also enjoy being praised as a War god now.

☆

... dammit i had smth i was gonna tell u guys-

Uh what tf was it, it was important

Next post is the Eldritch God Oneshot! Look out for it :) !!

☆

Safe Travels Kid,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

#lookie i made my first border image guys!! 🥺#a little rough but eh #i used a stock image and then added that little moon #also this gun shit takes me out i could write just a whole crack oneshot abt ending up in teyvat with a gun lmao #genshin sagau #genshin impact #sagau #genshin isekai #genshin imagines #my asks #gender neutral reader #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #✨️forgot all my tags again✨️#uh #genshin harem #i mean what #genshin x reader

456 notes · View notes

atom-writings · 10 months

Note

I'd love to see the main 8 in Hetalia coming home to their so passed out while reading a book. Extra points if the so is plus sized please! And btw your cat is ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE!!!(I have 2 tuxedo kitties myself named Italy and Romano). Please and thank you!!!

(Main 7? x Reader) Coming home to their sleeping S/O!

(Gender Neutral) Scenarios ~ A/N omg!!! kitties!!! send pics sometime!!! Btw thank u for ur continued support i know youve been here for a while and i appreciate it :3 (ALSO I DIDNT DO CHINA IM SORRY ITS 1AM AUUUGH)

Trigger Warning: None, just Fluff!

As soon as you got home, Alfred could tell something was off. Although it wasn't every day that you would run to greet him, he could count on at least a loud “Hey!” from across his home. But when he set his bags down from work, he heard no such thing.

Immediately, he tried to recall the morning you had spent together. Unluckily for him, it was nothing but a blur. You had... been there. He remembered that for sure, but if you had said something about being busy, he couldn't recall.

But that must be what had happened. Maybe he should set his alarms earlier, he concluded. But as for now, surely you would return home soon. There was nothing he could do about it, so he might as well enjoy his time alone.

So, like a child, his immediate instinct was to tear off his stiff work clothes, now wearing nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt (If anyone saw him through the window, well, that's nothing but a gift to them,) And like that, he pranced around the home doing his daily routine. Putting away his newly acquired paperwork, washing the dishes before dinner, and putting his suit away in the closet. Or well, that is what he was going to do, before he opened the bedroom door to you, fast asleep.

You were splayed out across the bed, your book still clasped tightly even as your chubby chest rose and fell. He sighed to himself, smiling softly and looking at you like one would look at a long-lost lover.

Well, clearly you had had a tiring day. It would be rude of him to wake you up now, he thought. He would rather do so later, after he's made a dinner both of you would adore.

Arthur didn't like quiet houses. It always made him nervous. Probably paranoia left over from back in the days when you would have to constantly fear for your life. But that justification didn't help. His fear remained, which is why he was so excited to have you move in with him. With you, there would always be a faint, friendly presence. But today, when he returned home from work, he couldn't help feeling unnerved.

Although you weren't spontaneous by any means, it wasn't out of the ordinary for you to suddenly disappear, off to do god knows what. It wasn't a habit Arthur particularly enjoyed, but he loved you despite it. And because you loved him too, you would at least usually leave a text message. But he had received none.

Just to be sure, he pulled out his phone and checked again. Nothing.

Well, he was dismayed, to say the least. But you wouldn't be gone long, he knew that for sure. Now all he had to do... was wait.

So he wandered into the living room, setting his briefcase down by the door before he jumped back. His breath hitched in his throat as he suddenly saw you, laying on the couch.

Clutching a hand to his chest to catch his breath, he approached quickly. But then he noticed the soft, almost unnoticeable smile on your face... the one you always wore while resting in his home. Slowly, he crouched down beside you, caressing your cheek while you slept. How adorable.

He was a lucky man, he thought to himself. He was very fortunate to be able to come home to this sight.

It was an exhausting day, to say the least. First, he was late to work, then he had to actually do his work, and then on the way home, traffic was the worst he's seen in months. So when he stumbled into his apartment, all he wanted was to see your wonderful face... and also maybe a cup of tea.

Which, when he looked around the flat, he was almost greeted by. Through the windowed doors to his balcony, he merely saw the end of your legs, propped up on an old metal chair.

“Mon ange?” He calls out to you, walking towards the balcony with a smirk.

When you didn't respond, he asked again louder, “Y/N?”

For a moment, he felt dread creeping up his spine, before he rounded the corner to see you. Fast asleep, with your book laid against your chest as you snored.

He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. It seems you had the same idea he had. As slowly as possible, as to not wake you from your peaceful slumber, he pulled up a chair from inside right next to you. As he sat down, he kept looking over to you, a loving smile upon his face even as his eyes began to weigh more and more.

“Y/N, my love!” Ivan calls out as soon as he enters your shared home.

“Крошка? Where are you?“ He continues, as he begins wandering through the house in search of you. But as he entered more rooms, only to hear no response, his blood began to grow colder.

You had said you would be home when he got home, yet you were nowhere to be found yet. You rarely didn't respond to his calls either, so needless to say, your out-of-character behaviour was beginning to frighten him.

Had you lied? He searched the living room. Had there been an emergency? He searched the kitchen. Had you been taken? He searched the office. Had something horrible happened? He searched the bedroom- Oh.

As he burst into the bedroom, the door being moments from slamming into the wall, all his worries were eased. He grabbed the door to silence it before stepping forward and sitting on the edge of the bed. Before him, you were curled up tightly around your book, your breathing soft and rhythmic.

“Как драгоценный…” he whispered to himself before crawling next to you. As he looked upon your sleeping face, he felt his heart doing somersaults. Well, if you weren't conscious to protest, there was no reason he couldn't watch your lovely face until you awoke.

Feliciano was not a working man. He had realized that within his first 30 years of life, and the last 3,000 had only cemented it. All he wanted to do when he dragged himself home to you was curl up in your lap and cry his stresses away. So when you told him you would meet him at home after work, he was quick to rush home (breaking countless traffic laws in his wake,) to meet you.

But when he reached home, only to not immediately see or hear you, he couldn't help flopping flat onto the floor. Dust and dirt be damned. He was goddamn tired, and there he would lay until you came home to see him. Or well, that's what he thought, until before he heard your soft snores coming from the living room. Lucky, considering he was about to start snoring himself and drown you out.

Reluctantly, he peeled himself off the floor and stumbled over to the living room. There, you were out cold on his old couch, still holding the book you had been telling him all about just the day before.

Adorable, was his first thought. Seeing you all peaceful, your chubby body relaxed on his couch. You really trusted him and his home that much? Amazing.

But then he started feeling jealous. He wanted to take a nap too! How long had you been here, relaxing while he had been working? Well, working was a pretty big stretch, but still! You were so lucky. But it's his couch, and you're his partner, so he was going to cuddle up against you and nap too, regardless of whether he woke you up in the process or not.

When he had given you a key to his residence, Ludwig had really not expected you to use it as much as you had. But it seemed that every other day, he would return from whatever he had been doing to find you in his home, doing whatever. You had said something about even mundane things being more fun when you were with him. A sentiment he could understand at least a little, considering he wasn't one to complain about your presence. It comforted him just as much as it did you, even if he was afraid to admit it.

So when he returned home from the grocery store to find your shoes laid next to his, he wasn't surprised in the slightest. He just simply sighed and continued his day, quickly putting away his groceries.

“Y/N, how long have you been here?” He asks casually from the kitchen after he sees your figure laying on his couch. No response, but maybe you had your earbuds in. It's no matter.

But when he finishes his task and walks over, he instantly realizes you were asleep. It was the first time this had happened... and he really didn't know what to do.

He sat on the coffee table across from you, staring at you intensely as he was deep in thought. Would it be rude to wake you? Would it be weird to let you keep sleeping in his apartment? God, he really wishes he could call Feliciano right now... but no! He knows you better, and he'll figure this out by himself. Even... even if it takes him a few minutes of pacing to decide.

But after he's finished sweating, he lets you keep sleeping. You must've needed it, and he'd be remiss to take that away from you. Plus, you look cute when you sleep, but he'd never even admit that to himself.

Although Kiku was one of the most anxious people on planet Earth, he never worried when it came to you. That's part of why he liked you so much. It was never stressful, around you, everything came easily to him. So when you hadn't responded to his text telling you he was on his way home, he assumed the best. You were busy, and it meant nothing more than that.

When he arrived at your shared home, he didn't panic when he didn't hear you. He simply decided to go about his normal routine, not searching for you. You would let him know where you were soon, he knew it. But even if it didn't, it was alright.

But when he was bringing his laundry into his bedroom, he was a little shocked to find you laying on your shared bed, still holding your book tightly. Although his heart stopped for a moment, he quickly calmed down. He silently set the basket he was holding down, walking over to you and leaning over the bed. With a gentle touch on the shoulder, he woke you up.

“Silly, you fell asleep...” He teases softly as you start to open your eyes, “Wake up, let's go make dinner together.”

273 notes · View notes

loversj0y · 11 months

Text

this is me trying

coming back to london and being away from wilbur was hard. fighting your own coping methods and trying is harder.

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

angst, hurt/comfort

TRIGGER WARNINGS: fighting, yelling, broken bottles, lots of tears, and alcoholism, plus the briefest (one line) insinuation of suicidal thoughts.

note: this is part of the 'tis the damn season universe, but doesn't particularly have to be read alongside it (though you'd probably be very confused if you didnt read it). this part is pretty heavy. not even going to lie, i had to stop writing a few times to keep myself from getting too stressed, really heed the warnings. at least im getting better at writing fights? ao3 version

word count: 5.7k

You and Wilbur hadn’t seen each other in months. It was May, and the warm air was making the days feel a bit more pleasant if it weren’t for the glaring guilt in your chest.

The last time you and Wilbur had seen each other was Valentine’s Day, when he’d taken a train up to London to visit you and surprise you with some takeout and roof access to your apartment — you didn’t actually know you could get up there. He wasn’t able to spend too much time with you, mostly due to your own time constraints, but it was a nice trip nonetheless. When he left, you’d promised you’d come down to Brighton to visit him soon.

That didn’t quite work out. You were going to visit for a full week at the end of the second term, however, once you’d met with your advisor, you learned just how behind you were on your final dissertation. It was incredulous because you had thought you were on track with it, but regardless you had to spend break trapped in the library, trying desperately to catch up on writing your paper on Lord Byron’s work. Then, you were supposed to visit during the Easter weekend, but you were given a paper, due in a week, that blocked any opportunities for travel.

But you were determined this time. You had to do this. You devised a plan, and you found a perfect weekend where you would be completely free of assignments if you hustled. You even got Tommy in on it.

“Hey, Tommy, sorry to call you like this, do you have a moment to chat?”

You heard a laugh through the phone, “Yeah, hold on,” he mumbled something off the phone, and you could make out the sounds of him walking to another room.

“What’s up?”

“I want to surprise Wilbur, and I need your help.” You smiled as you started launching into the details of your plan, each piece meticulously planned out for a wonderful weekend.

He grinned, “Aw, he would love that. Why d’ya need my help though?”

“Well,” you faltered a bit, “there’s a flaw in my plan, and it’s that I don’t know where Wilbur’s apartment is, and I especially don’t know how to get there from the station. So, I was wondering if you’d be able to pick me up and take me to Will’s?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem, plus it’ll allow me to annoy him a bit as well, so yeah, sounds good.”

You cheered a bit, “Thank you so much, Tommy, you’re the best. I’ll text you all the other details, yeah?”

“Aw, I am the best, thank you. And yeah, that works.”

“Perfect, bye, Tommy!”

He responded with a quick bye in return, and you felt yourself grin. You had been trying so hard to find time to be able to go see him, and this was it!

You got a call a few minutes later from Wilbur himself, and you worried immediately that Tommy may have spilled something accidentally. You didn’t even have a chance to speak before he questioned you.

“Why did you call Tommy with something he will only describe as being ‘important’ and ‘for cool people only’?”

You snorted out a laugh, rolling your eyes a bit, “Well, hello, to you, too, Wilbur.”

“Hi, darling, I hope your classes went well today,” he rushed out, “Now answer my question.”

“I just had a question for him, Will.”

“One that you couldn’t ask me?” You could hear the pout in his voice.

“Nope. As he mentioned, it's for cool people only.”

He let out a gasp, indignation clear in his voice, “Darling, how could you? I am much cooler than Tommyinnit.”

You could faintly make out the sound of Tommy yelling at Wilbur in the background.

“Don’t worry, alright?” You laughed, “It was just something only he could really answer.”

“Are there questions that exist that only that gremlin child can answer?”

“Believe it or not, yes.”

Wilbur whined on the other side of the phone, “Love, you know he’s going to hold this over me for months, right?”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“So, why?”

“Well, if I’m going to ask a Minecraft-related question,” you lied cooly, “it’s better to ask a professional, isn’t it?”

He was silent for a long moment. “...I am a professional.”

“Will, we’ve played Minecraft together for years. You’re good, but even I could beat you at PVP.”

He groaned, “Is this some ploy? Are you messing with me?”

“Is it wrong for me to try and get closer to your best friend by asking him questions about his interests?” Okay, truthfully, that was a low blow. But the surprise would make it worth it.

“I guess not.” He chuckled, “Sorry, I’m just annoyed about how smug he’s going to be about this.”

“Don’t apologize. You know I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to chat with you, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t either, love,” you could hear the smile in his voice, and the vague sound of Tommy speaking to someone. From over the phone, the room sounded louder than before.

“Is… something going on over there?” You chuckled, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone. You didn’t even know why you were nervous. Something was just gnawing at the back of your brain, and for some reason, you just felt… tense now.

“Oh, uh,” he paused, and you could hear more people talking now, “sort of. It’s nothing big or anything just, uh, Tommy’s having some friends over is all. He and I have been hanging out for a bit today, but we’re just at his now, so he invited a few people over and stuff.”

You nodded quietly. You couldn’t help the sadness you felt fill your chest. You were trying to be there, but it was still hard to hear about all the things you were missing out on, all the times you missed him, and stories and inside jokes you would never truly understand.

“Right, okay. Well, I-I’ve got to get back to studying, anyway, so.”

“Darling, it’s nothing, really-” “No, it’s not an excuse or anything,” It was, “I-I just… ‘m busy, is all, so I’ll let you hang out.”

You were both silent. He knew you were lying, and you could tell. But he wouldn’t call you on it. Not now. Not when you hadn’t seen each other in months and every slight felt like a balancing act, trying to keep the other from pulling away. You were so excited a moment ago, and you didn’t mean for the sadness to overtake your entire conversation. You just couldn’t help sometimes how every conversation, every time you heard him talk about the things he was doing, cut you open more and more. He didn’t mean to, and you would never hold it against it but almost every conversation opened the wound a bit further.

He spoke up after a minute, “Okay, well… good luck studying, and text me when you’re done,” he paused, voice softer, “I love you.”

You bit your lip, unable to hide the guilt bubbling in your chest at his solemn tone, “I will. I love you too.”

You hung up quickly, setting your phone down on your desk. You placed your head in your hands, taking a shaky breath and fighting off the tears in your eyes. It would be easier, soon. You’d see him in a week. You tried to console yourself.

You wouldn’t admit it out loud to Wilbur, no matter how much he asked, but you weren’t entirely adjusting well to being back here, without him. The first week, you could only fall asleep if he was on the phone with you. Then, there was one night where he fell asleep before you could call. You ended up turning to an older sleep method, knowing that you needed to get to bed in order to be able to make it to classes. Before you knew it, your room became littered with empty bottles you barely had the energy to clean up. It was an interesting dichotomy, the clear vodka bottles piling on your nightstand and the white Panadol bottles piling on your sink and in your backpack. You were mostly lucky the weekend he came for Valentine’s Day, because you had forced yourself to clean up your room a few days before, meaning there was only one half-empty bottle of vodka on your shelf, and a single bottle of Panadol left on your sink (though there were numerous more inside your school bag).

You weren’t completely lucky, though. Your weekend with Wilbur was almost entirely perfect. Until the end. Every time you thought back to the end, you watched the memory as if it wasn’t you, as if you were a watcher, not the one actually there.

You’d walked back in with Wilbur, around midnight. The apartment was mostly quiet, except for one of your roommates who was standing in the kitchen, fixing themselves a drink. When they heard you enter, they turned, perking up a bit.

“Y/N, hey, could I borrow some vodka? I ran out.”

You’d nodded, “Yeah, I’ll grab it, hold on.”

While you’d gone to grab the bottle, Wilbur took his coat off, your roommate lightly chatting with Wilbur while you walked to your room and back. You’d only caught the ending of their brief conversation, listening in as you walked slowly from the hallway back to the kitchen, trying to not wake up your other roommates.

“-mean, seriously, Wilbur, they can even drink me under the table. Every week, they come in with a new bottle.”

“Wait, every week?”

“Yeah!” Your roommate was laughing, and it hadn’t even crossed your mind yet that they were talking about you, “I mean, seriously, once a week, they walk in and one hand has a bag with vodka from Tesco, and the other hand has a bag from the chemist’s.”

You walked back over by the time your roommate finished speaking, placing the bottle in front of them. Wilbur gave you a strange look as you did, going uncharacteristically quiet as you said a quick goodnight to your roommate, bringing Wilbur, and the bottle, back to your room.

You placed the bottle back on the shelf while Wilbur closed the door. With your back turned, he spoke up finally.

“Darling…” he seemed to struggle to find the words, “Are you… okay?”

You’d chuckled, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You tell me,” he spoke, and you turned to face him. He had a sad look on his face, almost pitiful, and in the moment, it made you feel sick. “You’ve apparently been going through a bottle a week.”

Your entire body had gone rigid, eyes had gone fearful for a moment before you’d defaulted to being defensive. “That doesn’t mean anything is wrong, Wilbur. It just helps me relax, and you know that I can handle my alcohol.”

“Love, you can’t seriously expect me to just accept that answer,” he scoffed, and he almost looked mad. Looking back, you knew he wasn’t mad at you, more just concerned that you were trying to hide this from him. Even so, in the moment, you thought he was mad. While you couldn’t really place why he would’ve been mad, you knew that it made your own blood heat up.

“Well, it’s- the fucking truth, okay? So just- leave it.”

“How many bottles?”

“Wilbur, what-”

“How. Many.” He looked tense, walking to your bathroom and grabbing the bottle of Panadol, “How many weeks has this been going on? How many bottles have you gotten? If you’re struggling, you should–”

“I’m not fucking struggling, you’re reading into this!”

“Oh, am I? Really?”

“Yes, Wilbur! I am fine, better than fine, in fact, and don’t act like you haven’t been drinking too. You always text me when you do!”

“I’m not against you drinking, but you know how insane going through a fifth a week is. I know that’s not normal for you.”

“How the fuck do you know that? Hm?” You’d practically yelled out before you spoke out again, each word spitting venom at him, “You haven’t been here, Wilbur, you don’t know anything about the way I am when I’m here! Please stop fucking acting like you know everything about me.” You’d gestured with your hands while you spoke, eyebrows raising as you looked at him incredulously, “Yes, okay, fine, you win! I have been drinking more! Basically every night, but that doesn’t mean that something is wrong with me, Wilbur. I am trying my hardest just to fucking exist enough to finish the school year, I am allowed to have vices without it being some big, stupid conversion. Now, let’s just drop it, we’re both exhausted. It’s not going to help to just stand here and argue, okay?”

You’d panted softly as you’d finished. You watched as waves of hurt appeared on Wilbur’s face, and now that the moment had passed, you’d felt just complete, immediate regret as you watched his face fall, staring down at the floorboards.

“Yeah. Fine.” He spoke out flatly.

You two went to bed that night next to each other, still sharing a kiss and exchanging “I love you”s, but feeling tenser than ever before.

In the morning, you two had been able to patch things up, but not before Wilbur made you agree to just call him anytime you needed to relax instead of immediately turning to alcohol. You agreed, and you’d been doing a pretty good job of it, even if you still drink sometimes. But ever since the fight, there’d been this tense air in your relationship, lingering in each conversation, both too scared to overstep and lose the other all over again.

You stared at the bottle on your desk as if it was taunting you. You couldn’t call him, so it was that or sleeplessness. You sat up, shaking your head slightly and wiping the tears from your face, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t. Wilbur would call before bed, he always did now. Instead, you distracted yourself, pulling up your laptop and writing out your list of due dates for this week and the next two weeks, albeit the tears in your eyes made it a bit harder than usual. You wrote the list on a sticky note, placing it on your laptop. Some of these things were easier to knock out than others, for sure. Three big assignments and three small ones, plus whatever reading you had to do in between. Thankfully, only two of the big assignments were due this week, the last one could be left for after you came back from visiting him.

You got started, working on a poem analysis for your Romantic Poetry class and letting your own thoughts fade in the noise of Wordsworth and Keats.

You’d started working on your second small assignment when he’d called later that night. You set your phone up against your laptop, accepting the video call with a gentle smile on your face.

“Hi, darling,” he grinned, and with a quick listen to his voice, you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober. You didn’t bring it up.

“Hi, Will. Did you have fun at Tommy’s?”

He nodded quickly, turning to get comfortable in his bed, “Kid’s a menace, for sure, but yes,” he frowned, getting a better look at you, “Babe, are you still studying?”

You sighed, “Yes, Will, I am.” “It’s been like three hours, how dare they? How could they possibly assign you so much?”

“God, I wish I knew. It’s like they all just decided that everything would be due this week. I might not be able to do our video chat dinner this Friday. I have a huge project due on the 21st.” In reality, you would be taking an hour train to his place and having real-life dinner, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

“That’s not for so long though,” he whined out, pouting.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes a bit, “Yes, but it’s Professor Brian. He makes us all come to his office hours, so he can make sure we’re on the right track, and I need to go in early before the other students can take up all the timeslots. I need to make sure I have everything prepared for that.”

He sighed, relinquishing, “Okay. I know how important all this is, anyways. Plus, graduation isn’t too far now, so you need to finish strong.” He smiled, nothing but supportive towards your academic goals.

“Graduation will be here before we know it. Still gonna host me that party?”

You both laughed, and he nodded, “Oh, absolutely. We’ll have two parties, a moving party and a graduation party all in one.”

You smiled fondly at him, nodding, “Yeah. That sounds really nice.”

He gave you a look, eyes full of love and adoration, “I miss you so much, love.”

You sighed wistfully, “I miss you too. We’ll see each other soon enough, I’m sure. We’ve waited years, we can do months.”

He grinned, repeating your words, “We can do months.”

The rest of the conversation was standard, asking “How’s your day”s and sharing loving words. He tried to convince you to sleep once more, but you told him how important your work was, and he eventually gave up the topic. You wished each other a goodnight, saying “I love you”, before he eventually headed to bed fully. After you hung up, you looked back up at the bottle. The urge to drink was gone now. And if you weren’t going to get any sleep, you may as well continue working.

The rest of the week went by smoothly. The stress and weight of assignments and your plans for Friday kept you from sleeping properly, which at least gave you more time to work on your assignments.

Friday approached quickly, and you couldn’t sit still in a single class the entire day, let alone Professor Brian’s class. He taught your Victorian Literature class, and he was a genuinely caring professor, despite being a bit intimidating. You could barely focus throughout class, far too excited. When it was time for class to be dismissed, you stood eagerly, but Professor Brian stood in the way for you to leave.

“Do you mind staying a few minutes?” He asked, a kind smile on his face.

As much as you didn’t want to, you really liked this professor, and his opinion of you meant a lot to you. So you nodded, following him to pull a chair up to the other side of his desk.

He sat down, giving you a gentle smile, “I wanted to ask how your paper is going. You haven’t come in for office hours yet.”

Wow, and you thought you were the early prepper. “Well, I was planning to come in on Wednesday since it would give me a week until the project was actually due.”

He frowned, “What day is the paper due?”

You gave him a confused look, responding simply, “The 21st.”

His head tilted back, and he nodded slowly, “Right, I’ve found the problem then. The paper is due the 12th, not the 21st.”

You felt your heart stop. You pulled out your laptop, looking at the sticky note you had taped to it. You had certainly written the 21st. Fuck, you thought, realizing quickly that it must’ve been a consequence of your own mental state since you’d been crying when you wrote the list.

“Oh. Oh, god, I’m-” You struggled to continue your sentence, too distraught. The paper was due in three days, not twelve like you’d thought.

“Hey, don’t fret,” he pulled out his calendar, humming for a moment, “It’s an honest mistake, and you’ve always been on top of your classwork. I can’t offer a major extension, but I can give you until Wednesday the 14th, but that’s only if you come to office hours first thing on Monday. I can help out with some more of the editing work for the paper, but only on that day, and you’ll need to have at least most of it worked out. I trust in your abilities to create a well-thought-out thesis, especially given your passion in previous classes when we’ve discussed Wilde. Does that work?”

You nodded quickly, fighting tears as your entire plan crumbled around you. “Yeah, yes. I-I can do that.”

“Alright.” He offered you another kind smile, though it did nothing to stop the feeling of the world-shattering around you, “And are you alright? You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t wish to, but you were much more quiet in class today than usual.”

“Yeah. It’s nothing now, anyway.” You sighed, biting your lip to keep it from quivering too much. You stood, pulling your bag on while he nodded slowly.

“Keep your head up, alright? You’re a brilliant student. I don’t like to see you falling behind.”

You knew he meant no harm with his words, but it added to the pit of self-hatred that you were slowly sinking into.

You just nodded, turning and heading towards the door, “Thank you, Professor.”

“Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too,” you spoke, trying to put more enthusiasm into your words than you actually felt.

You practically ran out of the hallway, the air feeling like it was choking you. You walked to a random bench outside, on the edge of campus, unable to stop yourself from completely breaking down. You’d been planning this for weeks, how could you have fucked up this bad? You sobbed, head in your hands.

The tears didn’t stop. The sun was starting to set, and all of a sudden it felt like there were too many eyes on you, so you stood and ran. You ran all the way to the water, panting heavily as you stared out at the river, standing on the old bridge that was always abandoned this time of night. You stared at the water as you sobbed, chest heaving as you struggled to breathe.

Fuck.

You had to call Tommy. You already felt like enough of a fuck-up, you could at least prevent him from wasting his time picking you up.

With shaky hands, you took out your phone, dialing Tommy.

It rang once before he picked up, your sobs immediately carrying over the phone.

“Y/N?” He asked, panicked, “Are you crying, did something happen?”

You heard some arguing over the phone, but you could barely hear it over the sounds of your own crying as you began to speak, “Tommy, don’t- I-” your voice quivered, biting your lip hard enough to bleed.

There was still some arguing happening on his side, but you paid it no mind.

He tried to say something, but you cut him off before he could as the words broke through your sobs.

“Don’t- don’t bother p-picking me up,” you sobbed out, “I f-fucked it. I fucked it all up.”

“Y/N, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s- it’s stupid, I- I’m sorry. I can’t- I can’t come anymore. I fucked up,” there was sarcastic laughter behind your words as you continued speaking, tears streaming down your face, “I can’t, fuck, I- I fucking ruined everything, I- I was trying, I am trying, but I-” you gasped for breath, one hand clutching your chest weakly as you sat at the edge of the bridge.

“Take a deep breath, come on. What are you talking about?” It almost sounded like he was pleading.

“I just-” you sobbed, trying to muffle your cries to get your words out, “Tell Wilbur I’m sorry.” You pulled your phone away from your ear, ending the call despite hearing his panicked voice through the phone. You shoved your phone in your bag, curling up into a tight ball as you sobbed until you could barely think.

Unfortunately for you, you could still think. Your sobbing had been reduced to slow tears and the occasional hitch in your breath. As the sunset faded into the night sky, you became so acutely aware of how you’d fucked up your relationship. The one you’d spent years pining for, that you wanted to work so hard for. You let all of it fall apart. Even when trying so hard, your trying just wasn’t enough. You stood up, walking to the railing and staring down at the water.

The rushing water felt like it stared back at you.

You gripped the railing tightly, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe all over again. You slowly backed away, letting go of the railing and trying to collect yourself.

Once you were calm enough, you turned, walking the slow trek back to your apartment. Your eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and it’d be impossible to hide that you’d been crying even if you tried. You realized off-handedly that you had no clue how long you’d been there sobbing. The sky was your only reminder that time had even passed.

You walked to the apartment slowly, body feeling drained. When you opened the door, you were met with all three of your roommates in the living room, staring at you with concern. One of your roommates, Jayden, sighed softly, speaking into the phone and looking away.

“What’s going on?” You asked softly, voice cracking. You didn’t have the heart to be embarrassed.

“Wilbur called,” your other roommate, Quinn, spoke up softly.

You didn’t bother responding, just nodding and walking to your room. They didn’t fight it, watching you quietly.

You grabbed the bottle, laying down in your bed, and staring at it. There was barely anything left, probably about a shot’s worth. Your hands shook as you stared, mentally waging a war over whether or not you’d take that final sip. A sob wracked your body, and instead of drinking it, you threw the bottle against the opposite wall, watching it shatter and spill over the floor. You couldn’t be bothered, turning away from the door and curling up into a tight ball. You heard movement outside your door, but you didn’t move, and eventually, the footsteps departed. You closed your eyes, lying drained on your bed and letting yourself drift in and out of restless sleep.

When you came to at one point, you could make out the sound of someone picking up the pieces of glass you’d shattered. You wanted to turn, to mumble a thank you to whichever roommate had cleaned it for you, but you felt frozen in your own sadness. You listened, though, keeping your eyes closed. The sounds of each shard falling into a bag, the sound of a towel wiping at the wet spot left by the vodka. Then, there was a pause before you heard the gentle sound of footsteps moving toward your bed. You felt the bed dip, and you couldn’t fight the confusion that creased into your brow. An arm slowly wrapped around you, and you let your eyes open, taking a moment to process. You thought you must be dreaming.

Your voice sounded weaker than you’d hoped it would as you spoke.

“Wilbur?” You turned, looking up and seeing the face of your lover staring back at you. He looked as exhausted as you felt, and it looked like he’d been crying as well.

You sat up slowly, and he did the same, brushing back some of your hair.

“Hi,” He sighed softly, sitting across from you, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and your hands reached for him as if to make sure he was actually, really there in front of you. He held onto your arms gently as well.

“What- what are you doing here?” “You were on speaker when you called Tommy.” He sighed softly, “We could only come for tonight, but we really need to talk. We could wait til the morning if you’d prefer.”

As much as you’d like to have one last good night in his arms, you’d rather rip the bandaid off now.

“No, let’s talk now.” You sighed.

He nodded, watching you quietly, “Can you tell me what happened, then?”

You took a shaky breath, nodding softly. “I was going to come down this weekend. I spent weeks planning it, making sure I could get everything done in perfect timing. But that night I called Tommy, after you called me, I started crying, and I wrote down one of my due dates wrong,” you sniffled, chuckling sardonically at yourself. “God, it’s so stupid. But my professor stopped me after class, and he extended the due date, but he could only extend it by two days. So, I couldn’t come to surprise you anymore, and,” you sobbed, biting your lip and trying to hold yourself together, “I called Tommy and let him know that he didn’t- he didn’t have to pick me up anymore.”

Wilbur nodded as he listened to you explain. He knew you better than you ever wanted to admit. “On the phone, you said… you ruined everything. You weren’t just talking about the plans, were you?”

You shook your head, moving your hands to hide your face behind them, “No.”

“Did you… think that I would stop talking to you because of this?”

You took a shaky breath. It felt like your last chance to be honest while you still could. So, you let the words spill from your mouth in endless streams.

“I just- I haven’t been doing well, Wilbur, ever since I got back here. I was drinking every night, really heavily, and I know it wasn’t good. And I’m sorry for how I talked to you that night, I was just scared and defensive, and,” you took a shaky breath, “every time we’ve talked after that fight, everything would feel different, and I was just getting terrified that my time was running out, that you were going to finally decide that you’ve had enough of the fucking mess that I am. Every time you would tell me about the cool things you were doing, I just couldn’t help but feel like it was cutting me open, no matter how happy I was for you, and now, I just I feel like I’m an open wound that can’t close no matter how much I try. And I am trying. You have to believe me, really, I am trying. I didn’t,” You cried softly, head still in your hands, “I didn’t drink it. The rest of the bottle, I-I didn’t drink it. I am trying.” You felt like you were pleading for him to believe you.

“Hey, hey” he spoke softly, gently holding onto your forearms, “Let me see your face. Please.”

You let your hands fall, looking up at him. You never felt smaller than in that brief moment where you could feel him seeing you in your entirety.

He gently moved a hand to your cheek, wiping at your eyes softly.

“I know you’re trying. I’m proud of you for not drinking it. Really, I’m insanely proud of you. I can see that you’re trying. I’m not going to leave you or stop talking to you because you’re struggling. That doesn’t mean what happened is okay, but darling, you need to communicate with me. Neither of us are going to be perfect about anything, and I know I’m not perfect with it either, but when you start having these thoughts and ideas that I’m going to leave you? That’s when you need to come to me and talk to me. I know it’s hard, and I’m not expecting it to be an easy or quick fix, but I need to know that you know that you can come to me. That I’m someone you truly trust. Because if not, it will just hurt us both.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into his touch, “I’m sorry. I’m going to try, I just- I get so in my head sometimes, I just-” You took a shaky breath, and he carefully moved forward, pulling you into a tight hug. You hugged him back just as tightly, burying your face into his chest.

“I do trust you,” you whispered, “I’m just scared you’re going to see me the way I see me.”

He took a shaky breath, kissing the top of your head. “And I’m just trying to get you to see yourself the way I see you.”

You sobbed softly, clinging onto him tightly. He held you just as desperately, rubbing your back.

“I love you,” you spoke softly once you’d calmed down enough, “so much.” “I love you so much too.” He pulled away, only to pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. The kiss felt like breathing, a strong sense of relief in the physical confirmation that despite everything, you didn’t lose him.

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, and you both sat like that quietly for a few minutes.

“I missed you,” You spoke softly, looking up at him. “You said you’re only here for tonight?”

“I missed you too. Even if it didn’t go as planned, at least we still got to see each other this weekend,” he lightly joked before nodding, “We are only here for tonight.”

“Wilbur, I can’t go to Brighton anymore, I have to write my paper,” you sighed.

“Oh, no, I know. I wasn’t talking about you.” “What?” “Tommy insisted on coming with. He was really worried too. He’s currently sleeping on your couch.”

You chuckled, your chuckle soon turning into full laughter as you imagined Tommy’s lanky limbs leaning off your cheap couch. Wilbur started laughing as well, arms still wrapped around you, slowly rubbing up and down your back.

Once you stopped laughing, you leaned into him, relaxing against his chest. He moved both of you into laying down.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning. Today’s been exhausting. Can we just sleep?” Wilbur nodded, kissing the top of your head once more. “I would love nothing more than to sleep with you right now.”

You groaned, lightly hitting his chest, but you couldn’t deny the laughter that bubbled up in your chest.

“Goodnight, love.” He grinned.

“Goodnight, Wilbur.”

taglist: @shubblelive / @superioritycomplexes / @your-shifting-gurl (send an ask/dm me if you want to be added)

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #mar writes #wilbur x reader #tis the damn season au #mcyt x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #mcytumblr #mcyt wilbur

152 notes · View notes