( open + some closed prompts )

[figureitout]

CHARACTERS: stiles and YOU, stiles and a bunch of ppl
DATE: between march 17 and march 23
WARNINGS: injuries, panic attacks, more or less zombies, idk man i'll update
SUMMARY: peter's infection finally reaches the more serious symptoms, and like any well-adjusted individual, he runs away after lashing out unintentionally. stiles deals with the injuries and tries to mobilize a search for him (mostly by doing the searching all by himself, good job??)

i. i'm frozen to the bones — university

[ it isn't a common sight, to see Stiles out and about so early in the morning it can barely be called morning — sure, he makes a point to be at the station early enough, but never without complaining about the time and increasingly desperate attempts to drown himself in coffee. now, though, he looks wide awake, despite the heavy circles around his eyes.

no, the sight isn't a common one, but it certainly is alarming, especially when one pays careful attention to the way each step he takes is somehow less steady than the one before it, the way he cradles his arm at an awkward angle and winces when moving forward jostles it slightly. still, he isn't stopping — he makes his way across the university grounds, then to where the cars are parked...

... yep, you guessed it, he's totally going to drive his car like this, with one arm out of commission and looking like he might actually clock out any minute now.

someone.

should probably stop him. ]

ii. i'm a million miles from home — random city location of your choosing

[ he's no longer sure how long he's been walking around. hours, days — he's trying not to count how long it's been since his ill-adviced decision to try and tranquilize a sleeping super-powered individual, seriously, just how did he think that was a good plan?

(he didn't, that's what. he didn't think, because he had no plan. none... just like he doesn't have a plan now. for someone whose strength tends to be coming up with plans, he sure seems to be lacking in that department lately.)

the magitek is of no help, because what good is a locating system built in when you can just leave your magical jewelry in a lab, right? right. quietly, he mutters, ] You just had to remember that too, didn't you? Great.

[ as if talking to himself in the place of the one he actually wants to talk to, making dry comments about the situation, made it all somehow easier to deal with. (spoilers: it doesn't.)

after another block, Stiles finally has to sit down, finding the nearest bench that's empty. it's cold, but he doesn't care, curling in on himself as he leans his head in his hands. this... isn't working. he has no plan, no idea where to look for Peter, no clues to follow. nothing. it's like he's disappeared into thin air and all he can do is walk around the city until his legs give out under him, until the curfew once again forces him back inside — back to the dorms, to his room, in the faint hope that maybe, maybe this time it won't be empty.

breathe, he reminds himself. it'll be fine. it's fine. it's — ]

Fine. It's fine. I'm fine, [ he whispers out loud, his voice brittle, barely there.

(spoilers: he's not.) ]

iii. wildcard!!

[ feel free to wildcard me with whatever strikes your fancy!! or poke me over at celen for a closed starter! all closed starters will be their own comments, just bear with me as i write them up...

also, the explanation (and plotting post) for "how not to deal with being infected: a guide by peter parker" is here in case none of this is making any sense! ]

Comments

[figureitout]

... neither of those are bad qualities to have. [ caring much... or being mean. it's possible to be both at once, in his experience.

the comment about himself passes, and Stiles doesn't comment — it's not something he can say anything about, not about deserving anything at all, because he's not quite so sure. instead, what he says is something else, almost like those last two sentences were never said. ]

It's good you've got him here. With you, I mean. [ just hearing Giorno talk about Fugo like that, seeing the understanding flash in Fugo's eyes, the halted sentence, you have someone you'd do anything for, too — he's glad. ALASTAIR hasn't divided the two of them, at least. ]

[digiorno]

Mm. Well, you know I agree.

[Giorno sees you not answering that, Stiles. But he lets it pass, too. Stiles is far too weak for an argument, and the situation not nearly life-threatening enough to push it.]

[He presses his palm against Stiles's forehead, just to check. It's a little paranoid. He knows the fever's gone down; it's not a surprise, because he did it.]

I don't do so well alone. But then again, people don't in general, do they? We're all social creatures in the end. [Whether we want to be or not.] I'm glad you have someone here for you, too, Stiles.

[figureitout]

Yeah... I guess. [ no, he doesn't — he knows Giorno is right. he doesn't do too well alone, either.

quietly, he breathes out as Giorno checks his temperature; again, the remark about Stiles himself passes without comment as instead, he says, ] ... I'm alright. Whatever you did worked. Just... give me a minute. [ and then he'll be back in working order... ready to continue his search. ]

[digiorno]

Of course.

[Giorno's not happy that Stiles is going to go out and probably get himself hurt again. Not by a long shot. But at the very least it seems like Stiles knows he can ask for help.]

[It'll at least occur to him. One must make do with what one has.]

[He sighs a little, quietly, and goes back to running his fingers through Stiles's hair.]

Take as much time as you need.