it's fall y'all!

This is for everyone who’s down with the fuckin’ plague and depression right now.  I hope you all feel better soon <3


Tap. Tap. Tap.

It’s only six in the morning, but Lance has been awake for the better part of the last three hours, listening to the rain hitting the roof and windows.  

He squeezes his eyes shut, lets out a groan, and buries himself further into the blankets.  

Lance had gotten caught in the rain last night, which normally wouldn’t have been a big deal.  Except, he had been feeling a cold coming on for nearly a week now, and the rain had just kickstarted it.  

He would get out of bed, but it’s so cold, and his bed is so warm, and he feels like hell.

He sniffles, nuzzling his face into the pillow. He muffles a coughing fit into it and then shivers and pulls the blankets over his head (which is throbbing in time with the rain drops).

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. He feels his bed dip and there’s a hand on his shoulder, shaking him.  

“Nnnngh,” Lance groans, rolling on his stomach and hiding his head under the pillow.  

“Come on, Lance.”

“Go away, Keith,” he croaks, voice muffled by the pillow.

“The storm is going to hit tonight, and you promised us you’d come help me stock up.”

Lance groans.  The weather is calling for the biggest storm of the year, which is dumb, because why are they getting a storm in the fall?

“Just go without me, I’m tired.”

“We’re in college, we’re all tired.  Come on, classes are cancelled today, you can sleep when we get back.”

“I’m tired,” Lance gripes, gripping his blankets tighter.  

Keith sighs in frustration and gets off his bed.

Lance grins sleepily into the pillow, but then, “Shiro, he’s being a stubborn ass.”

“What?” Shiro asks.

Lance. He won’t get up.”

“Why are you getting so mad?” Lance asks, struggling into a sitting position, “and why are you telling on me? What, are you five?”

Keith’s head whips around to look at Lance.  “Because you always do this.  You promise to do something, and then you flake.  Shiro has to go to work, I can’t get everything by myself.  Get up.”

Lance groans and flops back down. There’s no way he’s winning this. “Can you just give me ten minutes?”

“Yes.  Now hurry up.”

Forty minutes later, Lance is trudging behind Keith as they walk up and down the aisles at the store.  He just wants to go back to bed, because walking is becoming more and more of an effort.

“Lance, come on,” Keith groans.

“I’m…heh……hitsch! *snff* I’m just tired.  I want to go back to bed.”

“You can after we get everything,” Keith says, tone clipped.

It’s a long process - Keith is about to murder Lance, because if he hears ‘I’m tired’ one more time, he’s going to throttle him. Finally though, they’re done, and Keith is driving them back to campus.

Lance sniffles again, which triggers a spluttering coughing fit.  He quickly buries his face in his scarf, and lets out a low groan of discomfort.  Keith grimaces when he hears Lance’s cough, and he glances over at him, concern gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

“Are-are you, um, okay?” Keith frowns.

Lance sniffles again and shrugs, slumping against the window.  


Lance is bundled up on the couch, wearing a sweatshirt that’s four sizes too big. The hood is flopped over his eyes and the thickest blanket they own draped over his shoulders. He’s gripping a hot cup of tea in his trembling hands - they’re shaking so badly that he doesn’t even bother trying to drink it, because he knows he’ll just spill it all over himself. He wishes he was able to drink it though, because his throat is killing him, and hot tea seems like the only thing that will help.  

Keith is pacing the living room, one hand is behind his head, gripping his hair as he waits for Shiro to pick up.


“Lance is sick. What do I do?”

“Is he okay?”

“I just said he’s sick,” Keith bites.

“Relax,” Shiro chuckles, “what’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know, the fucking plague or something.”

“It’s not the plague,” Lance croaks, “it’s just a cold, I’m fine.”

“You almost passed out,” Keith bristles, pulling the phone away from his face to glare at his sick friend, “you’re not fine.”

Lance grimaces - the minute they had walked through the door, black spots clouded his vision, and he had to grip the doorframe and sink to the floor to avoid passing out.  If he didn’t feel so terrible, he would have laughed at how panicked Keith looked.

Keith turns his attention back to his phone conversation, “I don’t know what to do, when will you be home?”

“They just sent us home, the storm is starting to pick up. I’ll be home in fifteen.”

Lance sniffles, blinking heavily as his vision swims.

“Keith…could you…u-um take the tea…needa lie down,” Lance mutters, shaking his head. Keith takes it from him, and Lance grips the blanket tighter around him as he shivers and drops down onto his side.

Hhh…hih’nngxcht! *snff*”

Lance curls into himself, eyelids drooping.

“Hey, are you alright?” Keith asks.

“Jus’don’t feel good.”

“Why didn’t you just say you were sick this morning?” Keith demands.

“You were right…I do flake.”

“Being sick isn’t flaking, you moron.”

Lance shrugs.  Once the world stops moving, he pushes himself into a sitting position.

“M’going to bed.”

Keith nods, watching as Lance trudges into his room.

As soon as Shiro walks through the door, Keith sighs in relief.

“Thank God.”

“How’s Lance?” He asks, depositing his jacket, umbrella and laptop bag on the floor.

“I don’t know. He sounds like hell, though.”

Lance is lying in bed, half asleep when there’s a knock on his door.

“Hey, Lance?”

Lance sniffles, rolling on his side, “yeah, come in.”

“Hey, man,” Shiro says, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hhh…hey…hh-h-huh…*snff* Hih-ihtsch! Ngsh! *Snff* Nnnngh.” Lance groans, pain exploding in his sinuses and temples.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not great…kinda lightheaded *snff* I’m freezing.”

“Have you had any medicine?”

“Nhhh…hh-hih-hih…heh-eh…*snff* hh’ihtsch! Ngsh! Ehtsch! *snff* ndo.” He croaked, congestion seeping into his voice. He chokes on a coughing fit, and Shiro is at his side and pulling him into a sitting position in an instant. At the end of the fit, Lance sags back into the pillow, and Shiro has a hand on his forehead.

He purses his lips, “I’ll be right back.”


Lance wakes up in the middle of the night, shivering miserably. He wants to stay in bed, but ice is in his bones, and if he stays in bed, he’s positive he will freeze. He manages to get up, but he’s trembling so badly his teeth start chattering.

Why is it so cold?

“Sh-shiro? K-keith?” He rasps, staggering out of his room. Shiro and Keith are standing in front of the fireplace, both of them are bundled up in jackets and scarves, and they turn to look at him when they hear him emerge.

“Shit, are you alright?” Shiro asks, crossing his arms as he shivers. “I was just about to come check on you.”

“C-c-cold,” Lance says weakly, stumbling to the couch.  He drops down face-first, and groans through a coughing fit that makes his chest burn and throat ache.

He feels blankets being dropped over him, but they don’t seem to work. He’s still trembling.

“The power went out, we have no heat, I’m sorry.” Keith sighs. As soon as they get the fireplace on, Keith slips under the blankets, and Lance immediately cuddles up to him. He’s desperate for warmth, and Keith feels like a space heater right now.

“Here,” Shiro says, dropping a pile of clothes next to Lance. “Put these on, stay warm. I’m going to make you some tea.”

“I’mb tired,” Lance croaks.

“Clothes on, then sleep.”

Lance sniffles, coughing into the blankets.

“Come on,” Keith says, poking Lance.

After much poking, prodding and convincing, Lance is wearing two sweatshirts, a scarf, beanie and gloves, and he’s curled up underneath the pile of blankets.

Shiro walks back over to him a few minutes later, places the cup of tea on the coffee table and then disappears into his room.

He appears a minute later, carrying his laptop.

“I vote we watch a movie.”

“I second that,” Lance croaks, voice muffled by the blankets.  

Shiro sets up Netflix and then gets underneath the blankets on the other side of Lance.

Lance sighs in relief at the increase of body heat. Gradually, the shivering decreases, and then, he’s asleep.

every time fall out boy releases new music
  • y'all in the first few weeks: i hate this tbh... like its so different, they don't even sound like fall out boy anymore.
  • y'all in a couple of months: OOPS I, DID IT AGAIN, I F-

I’m gonna personally fight every person who hated on Folie a Deux and made Patrick associate it with bad memories, that album was incredible smh

the romantic interest has always been established within the first ep, just saying

Chasing Ghosts

Request: I rly love your blog a lot!! I was wondering if I could request a newtxreader song fic with the song “Hide and Seek” by Imogen Heap? Where the reader tries to warn Newt about Leta, but he gets mad and they have an argument? Then he loses contact with the reader for several years and tries to find her, but each time he gets close to finding her, she gets farther away? Really angsty please??? Thank you so much!!!❤️❤️❤️"

Word Count: 4,359

Pairing: Newt x Reader (Platonic)

Tag List: @dont-give-a-bother @red-roses-and-stories @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly–canthrope @studyforthreehands @whatinbenaddiction @thosefantasticbeast2 @benniesgalaxy

A tinge of despair so intense it seems tangible still clouds Newt’s mind as he digs into the box of mementos, deeper and deeper until his dirt-caked nails crack against the bottom of the wooden crate. Nothing of significance. Nothing of importance. Nothing of use to him unless he wants to remember.

Cursing, he shoves himself to his feet. This room, this hall, this house is all useless junk now. He may as well burn it down; it’s not as if you’ll be returning at any point, not now that you know he’s discovered it. With a growl, he kicks the box, sends it tumbling onto its side. Its guts spill out, rolling across the ground, creating a mess that will remain until the landlord comes knocking for the next month’s rent. Already, it’s too late. You’ve vanished, and the short and chubby landlord with the beady eyes and missing smile won’t be able to track you down.

My fault, my fault, my fault.

No, finding you is Newt’s job, and he’s determined to do it.

Keep reading

“It’s not a fashion statement, it’s a death wish” and “Tell That Mick He Just Made My List Of Things To Do Today” are Big Mood trauma songs

I’m always gonna stay made as an abuse victim when I see people continue to stan/befriend/defend those who are legitimately awful people.

I really don’t wanna see someone talk about how callout culture is getting out of hand and then laugh at jokes with a sexual abuser or tag someone who is obsessed with loli and child guro. It’s fucked up. Y'all are kinda fucked up

So at least on my dash, nobody ever drags the xxTPs, so I'mma do it really fast bc y'all really piss me off from time to time.

Like would it kill you to NOT critique rules from time to time trying to find all the damn loopholes? Like pls can u not. LIKE SURPRISINGLY JUST BC SOMETHING DOESN’T MAKE SENSE TO YOU DOESN’T MEAN IT’S NOT SENSIBLE IN THE LONG RUN?? Like is it so hard to realize that if you take into account EVERY SINGLE tiny ass thing you guys pick out, nothing would ever get done???

Rules, laws, procedures, etc, they’re there to make things easier. And like?? Honestly fuck you, ExTPs? Stop blatantly doing the loophole thing that the rules don’t cover just because you can. Y'all are so damn full of acting like a dick while not coming up with PROPER SOLUTIONS. And you, IxTPs? Just stop. You may not outwardly defy the untold laws, but you still don’t come up with solutions like the shut in you are.

Keep to your own crap and leave laws alone.


elizabeth keen appreciation month | day one: general ludd

Liz: I love you.
Sam: I love you, too, butterball.

So, @ya-nurse posted these really great fall themed prompts, and I’m living for fall sickfics right now. 

A finally gets the courage to ask B on a date! The only problem is the change of seasons is causing A to come down with a nasty cold. A doesn’t want to ruin things and shows up to the date anyways. A and B get coffee then hang out at a pumpkin patch. When A starts to get ridiculously chilly even though it isn’t super cold out, B gets worried and offers to take A home and they end up on the couch cuddling and having tea or something cute like that

Paisley lives for the fall.  She lives for it.  

It’s her favorite time of year for a few different reasons:

  1. It no longer feels like Satan’s fucking sauna.  She no longer wants to die, because the weather is finally cooler and she loves it.
  2. She’s finally able to wear jackets, and scarves, and boots and sweaters.
  3. Cold nights mean bundling up under a blanket with some hot chocolate, watching a movie by the fire.

On the second day of this lovely weather, Logan calls her, telling her he wants to take her out on the upcoming Saturday.  

Keep reading