#sigh i really think my immune system just like cannot handle me working in this environment anymore

[pessimisticprincess]

dude i’m so tired of being sick 😔

#i’m somehow just getting worse as time goes on which is a lil scary with covid i think this is the sickest ive ever been #my ears are all infected and filled with blood and my lungs are not doing so good #i cant get rid of the fever i have no matter what i take #sigh i really think my immune system just like cannot handle me working in this environment anymore

[sunny-stardew]

Hello. I have just been reading through your blog and it is amazing sauce! You are so talented. I was wondering, do you have any headcannons about what the bachelors/bachelorettes do when you get sick or when they get sick themselves? Continue being awesome!

hi there! thank you so much :)<3

the longer I thought about this, the happier i got

ALSO I AM CURRENTLY CLEARING THROUGH MY INBOX SO IF YOU REQUESTED SOMETHING A LONG TIME AGO IT IS ABOUT TO BE ANSWERED YAY

Alex

either the biggest baby ever or pretends he’s not sick at all no in between

INHALES protein powder cause he says “it solves everything

“alex you need to rest” “GRIDBALL”

and suddenly you’re chasing him around the farm

but if he’s being a baby

omg you must wait on him hand and foot

just pray he never gets sick ever

Elliot

i think elliot has a weaker immune system, so i see him getting sick often

he loves soup, any kind

he tries his absolute hardest not to “burden” you

but you LOVE taking care of him

if it’s really bad, you wash his hair for him (which he adores)

you also braid it cause it helps him fall asleep when he feels crappy

Harvey

ohhhhhhhh boy

he goes to the clinic and picks himself up some medicine

he really wants to work but knows it’s not safe

complains cause he’s not working

drives you insane

you have to force him to sit down and read a freaking book , gosh darn it

he’s already up again

“just this stack of paperwork” “NO”

you make him some coffee (it’s decaf though don’t tell him) and rub his back as he falls asleep on the couch with you

Sam

BIGGEST BABY EVER

cannot handle even a chest cold

goes to webmd and starts diagnosing himself with anything and everything

“BABY I THINK I HAVE-“

“no sam. close the laptop”

you have to shut off the wifi

when he’s sick, he doesn’t do his hair so it just flips down on his forehead

you kinda like it that way(but don’t tell sam)

Sebastian

he just...never gets sick

ever

you think it’s because he’s inside all day and it’s nearly impossible to get sick when you work in a basement 12 hours a day...but he disagrees

“im like superman or something”

ok sebby

but on the rare occasion he gets sick, he handles it pretty well

he has maru get him some ibuprofen or whatever

(which he knows he’s not supposed to do cause she’s gotten in trouble many times)

but yeah he’s like just got a strong immune system

Shane

i don’t think shane knows when he’s sick

he blames it on being hungover or his depression and it just passes by eventually

but once he starts dating the farmer , they know when he’s come down with something

they make him rest and take time off from Joja

god he’s bored out of his MIND

hes not used to being taken care of

...and he doesn’t really know how to take care of himself

“SHANE! no pepper poppers when you’re sick!”

“no shane, pizza doesn’t get rid of the flu.”

shane realizes when you actually TREAT illnesses they go away faster

crazy

Abigail

also literally never gets sick

but if she does

ooooohh boy

the world is ending

literally so dramatic 24/7 but when she’s sick the icing is put on the cake

“babe...please bring me some soup...i can’t move”

“abigail, you have a head cold.”

“i see...a light..”

sigh

you secretly love it

Emily

swears crystals will heal her quicker

dr harvey disagrees but you let her have her moment

does different spells to make her feel better

they do appear to work...

she gets a lot more vivid dreams when she’s sick

she tells you about every single one and you’re actually super interested

usually gets over her sicknesses quickly

Haley

thinks being sick is “gross”

the first time you ever saw her wear sweatpants was when she had the flu

“you own sweats???”

“...shut up”

you don’t bring it up again

haley normal HATES tea

but when she’s sick

it’s ALL she drinks

and she LOVES when you bring home gus’s special soup and a baguette

she’s just adorable all the time i freaking love haley

Leah

again she doesn’t really get sick often

on the rare occasion when she is sick

she stays in her cabin to prevent you from getting sick

sits in bed all day and watches marnies cows

she REFUSES to let you near her when she’s sick

“can’t risk letting the breadwinner in this relationship get sick” - leah

eye rolls times a million

but you drop off packages at her doorstep with cute lil notes for her

she keeps all of them in a mason jar under her bed :)

Maru

maru treats being sick like every other day

with the exception she calls out from work

but she stays home and tinkers

you wouldn’t even know that she’s sick

maru gets hot flashes often though

when that happens, she goes down to sebby’s room

the basement is always colder

but if she lives with you, she will go into your cellar or barn

maybe one day she’ll invent something to help her

Penny

penny hates being sick cause she can’t see jas or vincent

she will sleep a lot

like, 12 hours

she will read a lot (more then she already does)

if the library is empty, she’ll go sit in a corner and read

she will wipe the book down if she borrows one

gunther doesn’t mind

if she’s still living at home, Pam will stay home with her

this is the only part of being sick she likes

#stardew valley #stardew alex #stardew abigail #stardew elliott #stardew emily #stardew harvey #stardew haley #stardew sam #stardew sebastian #stardew shane #stardew leah #stardew maru #stardew penny #stardew valley headcannons #stardew valley headcanon #stardew valley imagines #stardew valley imagine #request #stardew valley ask blog

[frenchmarshmalloww]

For those who were sad over my last post, here is a bit more angst but it gets better, promise :)

The timeline is kind of hazy, a sort of post S2 in terms of timing of the relationship but without the actual events of S2. OK it doesn't make any sense, just read lol.

The rules of tricking

I stand there, lost in thoughts, admiring the man laying on the couch in front of me. His body still makes my heart beat faster, a work of art if I ever saw one. Oh, how I wish I could be immune to it by now. Life certainly would be easier for me if I had been able to just get it out of my system. To just fuck him out my head, of my heart.

“Justin”

He startles me out of my musings, eyes on me from his position on the couch, hands in the hair of the trick blowing him. Not wanting to be left out any longer, I come closer, bend over the armrest of the couch and run my hands over his chest, play with his nipples. Brian sighs contently, music to my ears. I look at the other man straddling his thighs. He’s pretty hot, perfectly fitting the rules I secretly follow when choosing them. Hot enough that Brian would want to fuck them, not hot enough that I would not want him to fuck them. It’s a tight rope but I manage.

I remember clear as day, the night we came up with this new deal.

For the umpteenth time, we were coming home from Babylon fighting. I had caught Brian in the backroom fucking some twink, or was I the one being fucked? It doesn’t really matter I guess. Once in the loft, neither of us wanted to back down until, and boy was I stunned when it happened, Brian took the first step.

“Look Justin, this is getting really old. We have to find a way to just handle this better. How about some rules?”

“Rules? Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know… No tricking in front of each other for starters, no tricks in our bed, and we have to be home by 2AM every night.”

Seemed to me like he knew very well what he meant by rules. Apparently, he’d been thinking about it for a while. Still reeling from our fight though, I didn’t want to be amicable. So, like a five-year-old I stumped my theoretical foot and said “How about no tricking at all?”. It was worth a shot, right?

The look he gave me told me all I needed to know, so I switched gears rapidly. If he wanted a negotiation, then I had to come up with a proposition of my own.

“How about the total opposite?”

“What, like more tricking? Justin, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, I meant opposite to your proposition. Here’s my counter offer. We trick together, I pick them, we get them here and then we share them. No one on one, no repeat.”

I should have taken a picture of his face at that moment. The perfect mix of surprise, awe and lust. Yes, I had him.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“OK.”

“OK.”

That was 4 months ago, and since then, we’ve shared guys about once a week. I guess I thought Brian would get tired of it at some point, that he would break the rules and I’d have to go back to watching him fucking anything that moves, but he seemed to enjoy it and we’ve never talked about it again.

Back in the moment, I glance at the pretty brunette blowing my … Brian. He’s very enthusiastic, too much if I say so and I need to reassert my control over the situation.

“Don’t you dare make him come” I snap.

Brian scoffs below me and says “Not a chance, babe”. Cocky bastard. I would have believed him too if it wasn’t for the way his voice broke on that last word, betraying how turned on he already was. Stupid trick.

I bend lower to catch his mouth with mine. The angle is all weird, being upside down, but somehow it makes the kiss better, filthier, sexier. I deepen it, pressing more of my weight onto him, until I feel his hand pushing urgently at my shoulder. I break the kiss and look at him questioningly. That’s the moment I realize he’s having trouble catching his breath. I must have been crushing his airways and he has to take big gulps of air now. I’m about to apologize when I notice how dark his eyes have gotten, how harder his dick is in the other’s mouth.

Smirking, I say to him “You liked it”. He plays dumb, of course. “What?”

“Don’t lie to me Brian” He never has, I don’t want him to start now.

“OK, yeah” then in a breath “Please”.

“Please, what?” I know I’m enjoying this way too much, but damn, it’s not often that I get that kind of dominance over Brian fucking Kinney.

“Please do it again” he reluctantly asks. Not ever having been able to deny him, I comply and for the next minutes, it feels like it’s just the two of us again.

Later, after we relocated ourselves on the bed, I find myself watching Brian prepping the other guy to get fucked. He’s got two fingers inside of him, and the pretty boy is already writhing under him. He’s still clear headed enough to stroke my cock so there’s still that. Once he’s ready, Brian pulls him up on his hands and knees, puts on a condom and enters him in one swift motion. The trick moans loudly and although I hate it, the sound makes me harder. Having Brian Kinney fuck you is a religious experience, it’s hard to focus on anything else. I’m this close to patting him on the cheek and say I understand how he feels. I let Brian get into a rhythm before I slide myself under them and shove the trick’s dick in my mouth. I’m not giving my best, it’s been a while since I did, but apparently Brian is putting in enough efforts for the both of us because the pretty boy is losing his mind, crying out loudly.

Few instants later, I feel Brian’s eyes on me. I know what he wants, same as always. He wants me to look at him when he comes. As if that would make what we’re doing more normal. I usually comply. Anything to pretend that it’s just the two of us. But tonight, I can’t. If he looks into my eyes, he’ll see. He’ll see all the things I’m not saying, all the things I don’t want him to know. That I cannot stand it anymore. That all I feel at this moment is disgust and sadness. So, I close my eyes to avoid his and I suck harder. I want this to be over already. I don’t have to wait long. A few deep thrusts in his ass and the trick is coming down my throat, taking Brian with him few seconds later. I swallow it all, out of habit at this point, and as soon as I feel his cock start to soften in my mouth I get up and leave. They are both catching their breath as I make my way to the bathroom. Glancing down I realize I am not even hard anymore.

I take a quick shower, trying to make it last long enough for the intruder to be gone when I get out of the bathroom. I perfected my timing so well over time that as I step out of the shower, I hear the door open and close. I dry up quickly, tying a towel around my waist and I get out of the bathroom. Halfway to the bed I walk around Brian, standing there only wearing his jeans, top button undone. I don’t stop, eager to put this all night behind me. He won’t let me though. He catches my wrist and pulls me into him.

“Hey, don’t.” The softness of his voice just about breaks me. I have to push through though, if I want to keep him, I need to play by the rules, he’s made that much clear.

“Don’t what?” I try. I know I am not fooling him, but I’ve been trapped in this role so long I don’t even know how to be anything else now.

He sighs deeply then lets me go and looks at me. I am not sure I know how to read his eyes. Is that pity? Suddenly panic is rising inside me. I went too far, I let him see and now he’s going to get rid of me. It happened before, when I started caring too much. It’s always the same with us. He tells me not to expect anything and I don’t for a while, and then I start to want more, and he pulls away, saying he won’t give me what I want, what I need. I leave, certain I will be better off without him, yet every time I come back, surer than ever that what he has to give is enough if it means I get to be with him. And again, and again. Except this time, he seems to be the one wanting me gone and the thought of not being able to come back to him makes my eyes burn.

“You’re unhappy.” He states. And I know where this is going, so I lie through my teeth. “No, I’m not. Look I’m sorry I wasn’t really into it tonight; this guy wasn’t really doing it for me I guess. I need better standards.” I try to joke, but it falls flat.

“Justin, we have to stop this.”

No, no, no, no, please don’t.

“Don’t worry Bri, next time will be extra hot, I swear. Might go for a blond next time. You’d like that right?” I try flirting. I never go for blonds. The only blond that gets to be fucked by Brian should be me.

“Justin, stop! There won’t be a next time.”

That’s when my heart breaks. I feel it in my chest, it’s being torn apart and shred to pieces. Then suddenly, as if something jumped started my system, I have to move, to run. I cannot be here anymore. I cannot look at him, still in the fucking afterglow of coming in this guy’s ass and see anything else than the pain of losing him, for good I suspect this time. I walk to the couch and start putting my clothes back on. When I’m dressed I grab a bag and go to the closet, I take whatever I come across, some might not even be mine, but all I think about is how I need to get out of here and fast.

A few minutes later, I’m making my way to the door when Brian stops me with a strong grip.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting out of here before you kick me out.”

He looks at me puzzled. Then something clicks in his mind and he smiles. The bastard is smiling at me when all I want is to be alone, so I can break down in peace.

“Justin, I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was we need to stop with the tricks.”

“OK… “ I am really confused at this point and it’s messing with my dramatic exit so I just stand there waiting for him to elaborate.

“Shit, I’m so bad at this. Let me try again.” He’s visibly struggling with whatever he’s trying to say, and despite the overall pain I feel deep inside my bones, it’s my turn to smile. I mean, how often do you get to see Brian Kinney struggling to express himself?

“Justin, I want new rules.” He finally says with a resolve that scares me a little. OK, fair enough.

“Yeah sure, do you want to go back to fucking them on your own?” Please anything as long as I can stay.

“No.” Fuck.

“OK then…” I keep trying to delay what I feel is inevitable. He cuts me off right there.

“Would you please just shut up and let me say this?!”

“Yeah, ok, sorry.” Go ahead, break my heart, I’m all ears.

He takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing himself for the worst and then looks at me and says:

“I want the new rule to be that we only fuck each other. No tricks, no backroom, no cruising, no nothing. You and me in our bed, or well anywhere really, from now on.”

I’m having a stroke. It has to be it, right? I can’t feel my legs, my heart is racing, there’s a white noise in my ears. I want to say something but my brain’s not working, my mouth either. I’m just gapping at him like a fish out of his water bowl. A minute has passed, maybe twenty for all I know, and I manage to find my voice again.

“Do you mean that?” I hate how small I sound, but I have to make sure. I can’t let myself hope.

“Yes, I do.”

“But you need it.” I feel stupid for fighting him on this, but that’s what he’s been saying for the last two years. Monogamy is shit. I don’t believe in love, I believe in fucking. Those are his words. What kind of game is he playing now?

“I need you more.”

I realize I’m crying now. 4 words. Not the 3 I desperately want to hear but this is certainly close enough. He needs me. More than he needs to fuck random guys in a backroom. More than he needs to be the king of Babylon, of Liberty Avenue.

I jump into his arms, sobbing in his neck, peppering him with kisses. I’m so happy I could sing, dance, whatever. He wraps his arms around me instantly, holding me tight. I feel his smile against my hair and it makes me cry harder.

“Hey come on, don’t cry. You know I don’t know what to do with crying people.”

I ignore his attempt at lightening the mood and kiss him deeply, letting myself feel it all. After a few minutes, we break apart, both breathless and hard.

Brian, pulls away slightly and looks at me like he can see into my soul.

“Justin, you know I …” He trails off.

His eyes are pleading with me not to push it, not to force the words out of him. I see the fear, but also his desire to make me believe, that in his own fucked-up way, Brian Kinney does love me.

“Yeah, I know. Me too.”

Relief floods his features, he must have been really torn up over this. I’m an asshole for enjoying it but I feel like I deserve it somehow.

“So now that it’s settled, could you stop being such a drama queen and put that stuff back?” He points at the bag on the floor.

This time, I let him joke the seriousness away and throw the bag in the vague direction of the closet.

“I’ll put it back later. First, I need you inside me, seems I’m the only one who did not get off tonight.”

I take his hand and lead him to our bed. From behind me, I hear him murmur, not sure I’m even supposed to.

“Whatever you need Sunshine, whatever you need”. And for once, I know he means it the way I want him to.

#qaf #qaf us #brian kinney #justin taylor #britin

[enbyleighlines]

Since canonically wwx is a terrible cook and wn is actually really good at it what about everyones fave qpps making dinner for lan wangji and a yuan's family birthday dinner (not required but bonus if the whole family is coming over/comes over)? I think wn likes feeding people!

Ooooh, what a cute idea! I absolutely adore it, thank you. I hope you enjoy this drabble, my anonymous friend~

—

Wei Wuxian is a famously bad cook. It is a well known fact about him, primarily because he comes from a family which owns and runs its own restaurant.

But Wen Ning is an optimistic sort of person. He believes, fully in his heart, that anyone can be good at anything if they work hard enough. That includes Wei Wuxian, a man who once burned a hole through a saucepan. Even he, Wen Ning believes, can become a decent cook with time and effort.

Even so, Wei Wuxian is currently wearing Wen Ning’s faith thin.

“What is that?” Wen Ning asks.

On the cutting board, there lies a mass of... something. To Wen Ning’s best estimate, it’s a mishmash of different vegetables. The bits and pieces are all in various shapes and sizes. They also happen to be lying in a puddle of their mixed fluids.

Wei Wuxian looks between the cutting board and Wen Ning. The knife in his hand is disturbingly wet. “I diced up the vegetables,” he says.

Wen Ning wordlessly takes the knife Wei Wuxian is holding. It’s difficult to see under all the pulp, but Wen Ning notices that the edge is rather dull. “This is a bread knife,” Wen Ning tells Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian pouts. Really, he’s a master at playing the petulant child. “So? A knife is a knife! Does it matter what kind I use?”

“Yes,” Wen Ning answers. He doesn’t want to show any frustration. After all, this is meant to be a bonding experience for the two of them. And, he does love Wei Wuxian dearly. “This knife isn’t sharp enough for vegetables. Wasn’t it difficult to cut into them?”

Wei Wuxian enters a thinking pose. “Ah,” he says, “You’re right! But I didn’t want to dirty another knife...”

“That would have been fine,” Wen Ning assures him, “See, the problem with using a bread knife for cutting vegetables is that you have to apply a lot of extra pressure, and sometimes you end up mashing everything into a pulp.”

To Wen Ning’s amusement, Wei Wuxian listens diligently. He even looks regretful.

“I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian says, after a pause, “Should I go to the store and pick up some more veggies?”

“No, it’s fine.” Wen Ning grabs a sharper knife from the drawer and gets to work cutting the larger pieces into proper cube shapes. “It shouldn’t affect the flavor of the dish,” Wen Ning tells his partner, “But they should all be bite-sized. Also, if they’re all the same size, they’ll be evenly cooked.”

Wen Ning can feel Wei Wuxian’s gaze on his hands as he chops with practiced ease. Soon, the vegetables look a little more edible than before.

When Wen Ning finishes, Wei Wuxian lets out a held breath.

“You know, I always get so nervous seeing you hold sharp objects,” Wei Wuxian admits, while placing a hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder, “It feels like it shouldn’t be allowed.”

Wen Ning frowns at Wei Wuxian. “Why’s that?”

“You used to be so accident prone,” Wei Wuxian explains, “I remember, in high school, you got accused of skipping class because you called sick in so often. Your immune system was basically nonexistent. And there was that time you twisted your ankle so bad in gym that the teacher had to carry you to the nurse’s office. And that time in college you slipped on a patch of black ice and got a concussion—”

“Yes, okay, I get it,” Wen Ning cuts him off.

“My point is,” Wei Wuxian continues with a chuckle, “I guess I’m just got into the habit of always watching out for you, to ensure you don’t get hurt. Letting you handle a knife seems counterintuitive.”

Wen Ning puffs out his cheeks, but it’s mainly to hide a very real hurt.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian says, clutching Wen Ning’s arm, “I just want to protect my partner. Isn’t that a good thing?”

Wen Ning feels heat overtaking his face, and turns his head to hide the blush from Wei Wuxian’s perceptive eyes. He feels— well, he doesn’t have the language to describe it. Full of light, perhaps. Or fizzy, like a carbonated beverage. It’s neither entirely good nor entirely unpleasant.

Of course Wen Ning appreciates the concern. And the verbal confirmation of their queerplatonic bond thrills him. But there’s something else. After a second of thought, Wen Ning realizes what is bothering him.

“I suppose,” Wen Ning replies, “But... I’m not a child.”

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian releases his grip on Wen Ning’s arm. He moves into Wen Ning’s line of sight, connecting their gazes before speaking again. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to imply you’re childish. Just that I care about you.”

“I know,” Wen Ning assures him. He pauses a moment, and then pulls Wei Wuxian into an embrace. The warmth of his friend’s body loosens some of the tension in his muscles. It gives Wen Ning the strength to be vulnerable. “I’m glad you care about me,” he murmurs into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, “I care about you, too. But I don’t want to be treated like a child. Other people do that a lot, when they find out I’m... not interested in sex.”

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian says again. “I... didn’t know that. That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Wen Ning doesn’t believe for a second that Wei Wuxian would say anything to intentionally hurt him.

“I mean,” Wei Wuxian adds, “if anything, I’m the child here. Look at the complete mess I made out of the vegetables. I’m surprised you even asked me to help you cook dinner. Unless you want to give our entire extended family food poisoning?”

Wen Ning pulls back from Wei Wuxian with a sigh. “I won’t let you give anyone food poisoning,” he promises.

“Not even Jin Zixuan?”

Wen Ning snorts. “Not even him. Why are you even still pretending to hate him?”

“Hmm... to keep things interesting, I guess!” Wei Wuxian grins one of his dashing devil smiles. It might look menacing, if it didn’t also light up his eyes like heavenly beacons.

As usual, Wen Ning cannot help but reflexively mirror Wei Wuxian’s good mood. “If you say so. Anyway, we should get back to business. Do you know anything about making the dough for steamed buns?”

“From scratch?” Wei Wuxian asks, “Absolutely nothing.”

Wen Ning perks up. He personally finds making and kneading dough incredibly therapeutic. “Okay,” he says, “Let me show you.”

—

When Wei Wuxian said ‘entire extended family’, he wasn’t exaggerating. For better or for worse, they collectively consider a large expanse of people their family.

There’s Wei Wuxian’s adoptive parents and siblings, Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng. Jiang Yanli brought her husband and son, while Jiang Cheng brought his lovers Wen Qing and Nie Huaisang, the former being Wen Ning’s Jiejie.

Aside from Wen Qing, Wen Ning’s family includes Granny, and a few aunts and uncles.

And then Lan Wangji invited his Shufu and Fuqin, plus Lan Xichen, Lan Xichen’s wife Nie Yuyan, and their son, Lan Jingyi. And since it always feels weird to extend invitations to Nie Huaisang and Nie Yuyan without including Nie Mingjue, he’s also there.

Lan Wangji’s apartment is big, but it’s still an apartment. Fitting everyone inside is possible, but not ideal. By the time everyone has arrived, Wen Ning is starting to get just a little claustrophobic.

And he hasn’t even left the kitchen yet.

Wei Wuxian initially went out to socialize, but now he returns to Wen Ning’s side. Or rather, he hangs himself over Wen Ning’s shoulders like a backpack.

“How are you doing?” He asks gently.

Wen Ning almost plays it off, almost gets defensive. But then he swallows down the urge to reiterate that he is not a child. The truth is, he does have social anxiety, and he is feeling overwhelmed.

So instead Wen Ning squeezes one of Wei Wuxian’s hands. “It’s a lot of people,” he answers.

“Yeah... we might have invited too many people,” Wei Wuxian admits.

His breath tickles Wen Ning’s neck, but somehow it doesn’t feel suffocating. If anything, having a Wei Wuxian flesh barrier makes Wen Ning feel more secure.

“Maybe,” Wen Ning says, “but who would you choose not to invite in a hypothetical do-over? Everyone here is family.”

“True.” Wei Wuxian nuzzles their cheeks together. “I suppose, in the future, we can just invite one side of the family at a time. But that doesn’t sound quite as fun as having everyone together at once.”

Wen Ning nods his agreement. He grips Wei Wuxian’s hand tighter, not wanting the embrace to end so soon.

Wei Wuxian gets the message and cuddles closer.

“I’m having fun,” Wen Ning tells Wei Wuxian, “Even if I feel claustrophobic, I’m still glad that everyone is here. I might just need to retreat to the kitchen once in a while.”

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian agrees, “To be fair, I think Lan Zhan feels the same way, though he’s too stubborn to admit it. Basically, I’m dating two introverts. Luckily for you guys, I thrive best in chaotic environments. I’ll handle all the socializing, whenever you want to take a breather.”

Wen Ning chuckles. “Thanks, A-Xian.”

They continue to cling for another moment. Wei Wuxian’s presence takes some of the edge off of Wen Ning’s anxiety, replacing the nervous energy with a calm warmth. When Wei Wuxian finally does draw back, Wen Ning feels rejuvenated.

“Okay,” Wen Ning says, and picks up a tray of vegetable spring rolls. “I’m ready.”

#asks #ningxian #mdzs modern au #mo dao zu shi #anon #anonymous #drabbles #leigh’s writing

[thismightbewynn]

Wahoo, saw some of @deniigi‘s lightening prompts and the little impulse gremlin in my head yanked my chain and here we are, let’s go wahoo!!!  I did go a little hamwild with it though so big oopsies there but also I regret nothing and so I will not apologize!  Very long though, so I’mma slam dunk some of this under a read more.

-

“Foggy,” he nudged lightly.  “Foggy.  Foggy, Foggy.”

The accused raised his brow.

“What?”

“Take it back, Foggy.”

And back down the brow goes.  Up went the corners of his lip.

“Naahhh.”

This guy.  Ugh.

“You’re disgracing me, Foggy,” he said, without even a little bit of pouting.  Not even draping himself over a door frame or anything.  Certainly no theatrics.  “Slandering my name.”

“Denial is just the beginning, Mattias Murdock,” Foggy said into his cup, as if covering his smile would work on a blind man’s perception.

“My name is not Mattias.”  A pause.  “And I’m not old.  Take it back.”

“Okay, Matteo.  I believe you.”

That wasn’t taking it back.  That was active disbelief and dismissal.  These were things he could not have; not on his dignity, and certainly not on what little was left of his life.

He had little life left to live, not because he was old, but because he was going to die young, burning out fast and dancing forever.  Probably in the river somewhere, actually, but his poor life choices weren’t the issue here.  The issue here was Foggy’s refusal to withdraw his poor opinions, despite the stellar counterpoints Matt had beautifully presented just now.

It’s whatever, though.  It’s fine.  If his word wasn’t enough for this argument, then he’ll just find someone else to support him.  It can’t be any harder than finding a witness for court.

-

Spidey was doing a wonderful job.  Great work, really.  He didn’t know what was going on, since he came with zero context and bags of ulterior motive, but it sounded like general crime fighting with a hint of reptile.  It also sounded like he was just wrapping up.

He did something that was probably a salute.  He couldn’t keep track, nowadays.  Spidey was constantly trying out different salutes from a list he’d compiled from all four corners of the world wide web.  He was on a quest to find the ones best suited to make him look cool and respectable, he explained when Daredevil asked what all the hand waving was about.  He tried out a different one every week because he was weighing the public’s reactions to them.

The public was confused but charmed by it.  Matt, being part of the public by day, was not immune to this effect.  Apparently nobody was.

“I love you, officer.”

He pumped his chest twice and did the salute of the week again.

“I… sure, you too.”

The officer awkwardly imitated him.  Spidey’s heart beamed with joy.

“Well, I gotta go now.  Take care, ¡adios!”  He saluted again before he left.  The officer’s responding heartbeat indicated surprise.  Spidey had likely literally disappeared again.

“Why are you here?” he whispered, without really whispering at all.  He was awful at it, despite attempts to teach him otherwise.  He’d get the hang of it sooner or later, regardless.

“Just conducting a private survey,” he said, turning around, cane rhythmically tapping against the sidewalk.

“If this is about your costume, you look like if Shadow was designed to imitate Knuckles instead of Sonic.”

Matt had no idea what any of those words meant in that order.  He made no plans to understand or pretend to understand.  There were more important things at hand.

“Spider-Man,” he started.  “What was your first impression of me?”

“Honestly?  Cool but scary.  I thought you were gonna accuse me of murder and I’d be, like, yessir that sounds about right.”

“And now?”

“Uh, can I say something first?”

“Go ahead.”

He paused in thought, carefully chewing on the offered silence that was to fuel his thought process.  That was good.  Thoughtfulness and honesty was important for testimonies.  They were also important in general, but right now, he was looking for a testimony, so whatever.

Spidey’s heart beat steadily.

“I know it’s easier said than done, but you shouldn’t care too much about what other people think.  I mean, obviously it’s important, but I think being able to back yourself up is just as important.  Like, it’s great if other people believe in you, but you gotta do it too.  Self esteem, you know?”

Aww.

Useless for what he came for, but.

Aww.

“That’s great,” he said.  “But not what I’m looking for.”

Spidey sighed something tired.

“Well?” Matt pushed.

“Honestly, you’re a grumpy old man.”

That was worse than useless.  That was actively detrimental to his case.

“Wish you weren’t grumpy, though, but maybe old people are just like that.”

Said the kid who put way too much research into salutes.  And also, he’s not old.  Goodbye.

-

“The fuck are you asking me for?”

The younger the individual, the more valuable their opinion to how old he wasn’t.  If he asked someone older than him, of course they wouldn’t call him old out of bias.  If he asked someone of the same age, he would sacrifice what little was left of his dignity between them.  It had to be one of the wee ones.

“I’m conducting a private survey.”

Wade squinted.  Matt pretended not to notice.

“I’m not asking you.  I’m asking Eleanor.”

“You know everyone’s old to her, right?”

What--

How did he--

Whatever, it’s not important.  His opinion doesn’t matter right now, he’s not a wee one.

“Knock yourself out, dude.”

Eleanor Camacho had too much brutal honesty in her.  It was borderline rude.  His heart was bruised and she didn’t even give a shit.  She had an elaborate, extravagant torture system thinly disguised as a training regimen for her small brigand of action figures.  Little did they know, they were not saviors, but puppets meant to wreak havoc for their small, merciless god.  Anything or anyone who interrupted her was the scum of the earth, and was treated as such.

Of course her opinion was skewed.  She was upset.  People generally don’t say the nicest of truths when they’re upset.

This wasn’t working.  He needed to find someone in a good mood.

-

MILES: hey, did i say something wrong??

MILES: whatever it is i’m sorry

MILES: nevermind, foggy just told me you’re having an aging crisis

MILES: good to know you’re okay though!!

MATT: I am not having an aging crisis and Foggy is a liar. And yes I am perfectly okay thank you for noticing.

MILES: don’t worry dude, you’ll get over it!

MATT: Miles I just said I’m okay.

MILES: i freak out every birthday because growing means more responsibilities, but that’s a crisis that just runs out after i have some cake

MILES: and like, you’re done growing, so that’s it! these are all the responsibilities you have and you already know how to handle them. so i guess my advice is to get some cake

MILES: or something that is not cake, i don’t know what your tastebuds like. maybe you like to eat raw fish i don’t know

MATT: Miles, I appreciate what you are saying, but that is not the problem and you are not helping.

MILES: what’s the problem then?

MILES: is it because foggy said you’re old? because i’m sorry but he’s right

MILES: actually i’m not apologizing for telling the truth. you’re old, man

MATT: I’m going to block you.

MILES: you always say that but you never do it and honestly i don’t think you know how

MILES: you know why that is? it’s because you’re old and that means you’re technologyphobic

MILES: don’t worry, peter is old too but he’s not technologyphobic because he’s a nerd. you can ask him how to block me, i won’t mind! i just hope you can figure out how to unblock me on your own lol

MILES: i won’t judge if you have to ask peter how to unblock me too, you old people gotta stick together

MILES: no response? gone to ask peter how to use the youth gadgets your old man brain cannot comprehend i see

-

MATT: Miles is becoming too bold for his own good.

PETER: did he call you old? That’s okay he calls me old too, it’s like the opposite of making fun of how young he is.

PETER: also i heard about your aging crisis from him and honestly? Good luck dude

That was a private survey.  It was supposed to be private.  He remembered saying it was a private survey. 

PETER: may says that you can defeat feeling old by acknowledging that time passes and figuring out why being old feels like a personal attack to your emotional security

This was the worst.  This was exactly why that survey was private.  He made a silent pact to himself not to ask Miles anything ever again.

MATT: I see where Miles gets his bad influence from.

PETER: don’t blame me when miles gets all his advice from may

PETER: he says mine is faulty and full of holes which i guess is fair but like ouch you know?

MATT: No, I don’t.

MATT: Also, while I have you here, what was your first impression of me?

PETER: i’m not participating in this bye feel better soon

MATT: Peter answer the question

MATT: Peter hey

MATT: PETER

-

He was mourning the ongoing death of his youth and vitality.

“Are…  Are you okay?”

SAM.  SAMUEL.  DEAREST SAMUEL BLINDSPOT CHUNG.  FINALLY, A YOUTH HE CAN TRUST.

He immediately abandoned his mourning activities.

“Sam,” he said, with much urgency, leaning his weight against his palms on the desk.  Sam’s spine straightened to attention.

“Yeah?”

“What was your first impression of me?”

“Uh.  I don’t know, mostly just scared shitless?  But also really, really excited.”  A pause.  “And then mostly respect after that.”

Good, good.  No mention of old age.

“And now?” he continued eagerly.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh.”  Sam creeped backwards.  “Uhhhhhhh.  You know what?  I’m just gonna.  Go.  Think about my answer.  And then come back later when I have it.”

NO.  SAM.  COME BACK.  UGH.

Matt sunk in his chair again, stuffing his face into his desk to hide his misery from the world.

Foggy came in.  Sam did a little dance with his head bouncing around behind Foggy’s back, trying to discreetly figure out what was going on.  He was failing at both.

The root of the problem leaned on the doorframe.  The man who watered that root was covering his smile with a mug, like it actually hid anything.

“You okay, buddy?”

“Fuck,” Matt bemoaned to the wood.  “I’m old.”

"That's what this is about?" Sam muttered to himself in the background.

“If it makes you feel any better, so am I.”

It didn’t, but it would if Foggy knew how to block people.

-

Thanks for reading <333 

Also, clarification: old age is mattphobic on account of the fact that having crunchy bones makes it hard to break other people’s not-crunchy bones.  Dementia?  Ain’t ever heard of her, that a new baddie or something?

Also also, I think Matty here has communication skills but like, he’s not good at using them when he’s being fueled by spite and selfish deeds or whatever lmao.

Anyways, have a good one !!  (This is also on the ao3 btw, if you wanna go check that out for whatever reason)  

lol (lots of love)!!!!

#wynn posts #wynn writes #fic stuffs #daredevil #matt murdock #i'mma start screaming #writing htis fic made me realize i know very little about the youngin's matt hangs around with #if he hangs out with any youngin's at all. does he?? does he really??? #maybe matt has a natural anti-child repellent exuding from his pores

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Waterfalls & Whirlpools (5)

Double post part deux!  The fifth installment of my camp nano project.

---

The sun has just begun to peek above the horizon somewhere distantly, the sky is still mostly dark but ever so slowly lightening and birds begin to wake from their nightly slumber.  Erin sits heavily at her desk.  It is possible that she’s suddenly begun sleepwalking and sleep writing, despite no history of it otherwise in her life.  She isn’t on any of those odd sleeping meds that sometimes make people do strange things in a fugue state.  If it isn’t her though, that means it has to be something or someone else, and the only response her brain can cook up is magic.  She doesn’t exactly feel...great, when she thinks about it that way.  What else could it possibly be though if not magic?  She isn’t willing to pull apart the book to find out, so with that resolved in her mind she returns her attention to the fresh passage in her journal.

I’m sorry it’s taken me some time to respond, things here are progressing at a fast pace and preparations cannot be halted, even for the most interesting conversation I’ve ever had.  We’ve settled in for the night though, after a rather long day at the armory and smithy.  Tell me about your work, what do you do?  I would suppose you can tell that I am something of a mercenary.  

‘No’ thinks Erin ‘I cannot.’  She supposes that it makes sense, in the context of the messages and now knowing what she knows about what the world on the other side of the page seems to be like.  She wonders what sort of something is progressing over there, what kind of adventure or battle they’re headed into.  Mercenaries tend to be hired by armies, right?  Right.  Well, that makes her feel a little bit inadequate in the face of likely a literal warrior who deals with death on a likely daily basis.  Still, Erin doesn’t have it in her to lie, besides what would she even claim to do that she could back up with enough knowledge that doesn’t make her look like a weakling any more than being a librarian does.  

I am lucky enough to travel with dear friends and work to keep the realm safe.  We handle niche problems that larger forces cannot.

“Am I reading a fucking D&D backstory?”  Erin vacillates between this being real and this being some kind of giant hoax being played on her by the town.  She suddenly regrets moving so far away from her care team and being here without a therapist.  Arthur had been the best, and was so very confident in Erin’s progress that he encouraged her to take this job so long as she would stay on her medication and continue practicing her mindfulness.  Sighing a little and rubbing her eyes, Erin decides once and for all to just...go with it.  If this is what’s happening, then she’s going to roll with it for now and keep evaluating things as time goes on.  

I wouldn’t have guessed you were a mercenary!  Considering that isn’t particularly commonplace in my world.  I am a librarian, I work in a small library at a school.  I didn’t love working in the city library system, and I’ve always enjoyed working with children, so being a school librarian was much more my speed.  It’s boring compared to what you do I’m sure!  But I enjoy it because it’s so quiet and predictable.  I find it hard to believe that the most interesting conversation you’ve ever had is with a librarian from small town Washington, but I’ll take it as the compliment you intended it as! 

Erin pauses briefly in her writing, considering what to ask next, whether it’s even appropriate to comment on the quest her writing partner is set to go on, when ink begins to flood the page again but not from her hand.  

Ah, don’t be so hard on yourself.  You’re a keeper of knowledge, it’s an important post.  Just because it isn’t dangerous doesn’t mean it isn’t impressive.  Besides, of course you’re the most interesting conversation I’ve ever had, you’re the only person I’ve ever talked to outside of our world.

“Well that sentiment is certainly mutual.”  Erin mumbles to herself out loud as she watches the writing seep to life.  

You’re certainly the only person I’ve ever talked to from outside of my world.  I keep wondering if I’m insane or if this is actually happening.  Magic isn’t real!  But apparently it is?  Or maybe this is one of those ‘sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic’ scenarios.  But I’m rambling, and I thought I only did that verbally.  

What do you mean magic isn’t real?

Erin is interrupted by a frantic and barely-legible scribble.  

I mean, at least in my world, magic literally isn’t real?  Except for apparently it is because we’re talking like this?  I mean, people have their own beliefs and whatever but there’s no like proof that magic exists.  It’s not like someone can just conjure fire or whatever, I’m hesitant to even tell anyone about this book because I’m pretty sure they’ll think I’m nuts and toss me into inpatient treatment because I’m essentially talking to myself. 

That’s the crux of it really, isn’t it?  There’s no one that Erin can show this to, no one that she can go to with this cool, weird thing that’s happening.  No one she can trust to share this with who would not immediately call for her to be evaluated for some sort of disorder.  It’s surprisingly easy to vent this into the journal, to get those anxieties out on the open onto the page.  The writing being scrawled beneath hers is frantic and once again barely legible.  It takes her some time to parse it out, and even then she isn’t one hundred percent on every word. 

Wait so you’re telling me that you don’t have access to magic at all?  But...how do you...how do you do anything?!  Does healing just take forever?  How do you treat illnesses?  Poisonings?  You’re telling me you’ve never been cursed?!  Can you at least enchant weapons?  How do you fight otherwise?!  You’re telling me you can’t even light a simple fire?!

You can almost hear the panicked voice on the other end, yelling about the lack of magic and all of the things she’s supposedly missing out on because of it.  “I mean, I can’t say I want to be cursed…”  Erin mumbles a little sourly, she’s almost pouting.  It feels a little judgmental but it’s not like there’s anything she can do about it.  “I can light a fire just fine, thank you very much, it just takes a lighter.”  She sticks her tongue out at the book as she talks out loud before drafting a response. 

Well, we’ve got technology?  We don’t really need to light fires that often, we might for pleasure in a fireplace or at a bonfire but we have electricity for heat and light, we have machines to help treat illness and we work hard to prevent it whenever possible with vaccines and immunizations.  We fight here I’d guess similarly to you guys in a lot of respects, although something tells me you all don’t have guns or explosive warfare.  If you could see a gun you would understand why we don’t need enchanted weapons, at least here in our world.  It’s not like we fight anything other than each other and the occasional wild animal.  No, I cannot say I’ve ever been cursed, at least that I know of.  

Erin watches the ink from her partner’s pen meet the page to start a word only to stop a few times.  Giggling to herself she leaves the book where it is for a few minutes to make a pot of coffee, bringing back a large mug of it doctored with cream and sugar.  Her writing companion had started and stopped a handful of times, leaving a smattering of dots and lines on the page before scrawling out a few more questions in a slightly steadier hand. 

Electricity like lightning?  You can harness that kind of raw energy?!  And you say it isn’t magic?!  

Erin laughs at that, taking a deep sip of coffee and trying to figure out how to explain electricity to someone whose only experience with it is in the form of raw lightning.  Of course electricity is terrifying, it can fry through you and stop your heart in seconds, or leave you with permanent injuries and melt off skin or even whole limbs.  Lightning strikes are no joke, and the damage they do can certainly leave you in awe of their power.  She herself doesn’t even really understand how it works, she knows enough to know that if she plugs her phone in, it charges.  If she puts a fork in an electrical outlet, it will kill her.  Something about resistance and ohms and circuits floats around in her head from her schooling, but nothing concrete or sure enough to do anything other than make her more confused.  “I mean I guess I could pull up a wiki article on the basics and do some transcribing…”  

That’s how Erin spends her early morning, trading messages back and forth with Urzash trying to explain the basics of electricity to them while being peppered with questions about how in the hell any of this could possibly work without killing someone. 

Well, a lot of people have died working with electricity.  It’s incredibly dangerous, it’s safer now than it’s ever been but especially in the early days a lot of people died because they didn’t know what they were playing with.

She completely loses track of time with this conversation and the rabbit hole she’s gone down, and it isn’t until her emergency late alarm goes off that she realizes she hasn’t even started frying the donuts, let alone showered or gotten dressed.  Her closing message is slapdash, apologizing but admitting to losing track of time and needing to leave like right now.  She feels a little bad about it, but doesn’t have time to dwell on it as she turns on the deep fryer before running to the bathroom to throw some dry shampoo in her hair and brush her teeth.  Grad school work, if nothing else, taught her about how to efficiently get through a routine in no time.  She’s only ten minutes late pulling into the school and running in with an apology about the donuts taking too long.  Mrs. Forrester laughs and waves off her apology as she pulls the foil covered tray from Erin’s hands.  “You can be late all you want if you bring me homemade donuts darling.”  

Erin blushes but laughs, pushing down the thoughts of the journal waiting for her back home and the reason she was actually running late this morning.  The unused dough sitting back in her fridge would get fried up later for her own donuts, and Mrs. Forrester didn’t need to know the dozen in the tray were only half the amount she had meant to prepare.  Breakfast is fun and quiet, the town gossip from Mrs. Forrester is pretty tame all things considered and mostly consisted of particular family rivalries that might rear their heads when it came time for classes to start.  “You’ve got to watch out for the Harrisons, by the way.  Their eldest daughter, Brianna, has been known to take books out of the library without actually checking them out in order to keep other children from using them, and has started teaching her younger brother Evan to do the same.  Their parents put a bit too much pressure on them for their grades and class position, so I understand where that instinct is coming from, but we’re working on teaching them better habits.”  

Erin sighs and snags a second donut from the tray (Mrs. Forrester already halfway through her third) taking a bite from the sugary cinnamon donut before taking a deep drink of coffee.  She could get used to this, listening to the older woman chatter on amiably while they drink coffee and eat sweets.  It’s bittersweet that Mrs. Forrester is retiring, but hopefully with enough of these early morning coffee dates Erin will be able to convince the older woman to keep meeting up occasionally outside of work.  The shrill ringing of the school bell interrupts her train of thought though, and Mrs. Forrester stands before recovering the donuts with foil and putting them in the bottom drawer of her desk with a wink.  “Alright darling, duty calls.  We’ll have some more of those at lunch, and you absolutely have to give me the recipe.”

#waterfalls and whirlpools #WLW #my writing #camp nanowrimo #camp nano july 2019 #lesbian love #lesbian fiction #lesbian romance #slow burn #female orc #fem orc #named character #fantasy

[drama-nerd]

Sick Days

Pairing: Seho

Word Count: 2,693

Summary: Oh Sehun just wanted to enjoy and live through autumn without catching some sort of illness. Was that too much to ask? According to the universe, the answer is yes. On the bright side, he had a lovely man to take care of him during this time of misery.

Alternatively, five times in which Oh Sehun was ill and the one time he cared in return.

Tags: Domestic Fluff

~~~

-one-

“And this is why you don't play in the rain in four-degree weather,” Junmyeon scolded his younger boyfriend as he brought in a tray of soup to their shared bedroom. The blond had just returned from a tiring shift at the local bakery, Heavenly Bakes, to find that his boyfriend of three years had been suffering from the symptoms of a cold these last few hours. Great way to kick off the weekend.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” the younger, Sehun, protested as he sat up from his position on their bed. For the past few hours, he was forced to the confines of their bedroom as he cannot breathe through his nose nor could he move/feel his body. To someone as active as Sehun, these past few hours felt like hell. All because he decided to jog five kilometers in the rain… without a jacket.

“Well, look where that got you,” the blond gestured to the recovering body of the brunet as he neared the edge of the bed. “I told you that there was a sixty-percent chance of rain that day.”

In his defense, it was only drizzling when he started his monthly run and the more serious part of the rain started on his way back home, three kilometers away.  

“Stop patronizing me,” Sehun whined as he watched Junmyeon set the tray of steaming soup on his bedside table, being careful to not accidentally set it on the brunet’s charging phone (because no one wanted a repeat of what happened last year). “I’m already miserable enough as it.”

“Oh shush, you’ll be fine,” the older shot back as he carefully lifted the bowl of warm, steaming soup from the tray, bringing it closer to Sehun. “You’ll be fine as long as I take care of you, love.”

For a moment, the stuffy-nosed brunet warily stared at the soup bowl, as if expecting a goblin to jump out and scare him. His eyes shifted between the contents of the bowl and his beloved boyfriend before he gave up, gingerly taking the warm dish from said boyfriend’s hold. You can’t blame him, however, with the look Junmyeon gave him. It was too adorable to deny.

As he began taking spoonfuls of the rich, warm liquid, Sehun muttered, “Only because I love you.”

Unknown to him, Junmyeon smiled in return.  

-two-

“Achoo!” The sneeze of a certain twenty-three-year-old rang throughout the two-bedroom apartment of the Kim-Oh couple. At that moment, the said couple was snuggling in bed as the younger sneezed and “mouth-breathed” in misery. Another weekend wasted because of this bug that had been going around. Screw Jongin, Sehun’s brother, for coughing on him the other day.

Wordlessly, Junmyeon reached over his boyfriend’s form to hand him one of the many boxes of tissues that were resting on their bedside table for emergencies such as this.

“Thank you,” Sehun muttered as he graciously took the box from the older’s hands to cradle it in his arms. As he did, the couple returned to snuggling as the older spooned the younger from behind. While Sehun loved cuddling the blond, he hated being ill, and this was the second time this season (again, screw you, Jongin.) It doesn’t help that despite the number of hours Junmyeon had spent with a sick Oh Sehun, his boyfriend never seemed to catch whatever Sehun was offering. The universe truly despised him.

While it’s not the blond’s fault for Sehun’s shit immune system, he cannot help but be petty and whine at the unfairness of his situation. “Fuck your healthy self. Screw your immune system!”

Not wanting to aggravate the younger much more than he was at that moment, Junmyeon continued to spoon his beloved as the latter kept complaining about his slight predicament.

Until a sudden comment on Sehun’s part caused the older to inquire, “Well, if I’m sick, who’s going to take care of you and your whiny self? Hmm?” While Junmyeon wouldn’t mind skipping work (Kyungsoo was capable of handling the bakery for a day or two), he wasn’t really on board with the whole “I’m suffering, you should too” mentality that his beloved seemed to possess.

(Sick buddies, amirite?)

“We can ask Chanyeol hyung,” Sehun’s hoarse voice responded as he snuggled closer to Junmyeon. “He is a nurse and he’s only next door.”

“I don’t think Yixing would appreciate us taking advantage of his husband’s services,” the older chuckled.

“Eh. It was worth a shot.”

All of a sudden, Sehun turned his head to land a quick, yet meaningful kiss on his unsuspecting boyfriend’s precious lips, before he returned to his previous position. As a small smile graced his face, Sehun whispered, “Good night, Jun.”

Silence. Before-

“BLEH! SEHUN! YOU’RE SICK!”

-three-

“Sehun, if I see you on the computer one more time, I will tape you to the bed,” Junmyeon warned as he attempted to guide his boyfriend from the study back to their bedroom, for the third time today. The blond kept persuading the brunet to take a rest as he was ill, yet the younger wouldn’t give up. However, this would be the last time. Once Junmyeon realized that his previous efforts to pull him out of the study proved to be unbeneficial, he resorted to wrapping his arms snuggly around the younger’s middle before he dragged said male down the thin halls of their apartment.

“But, Jun,” Sehun protested hoarsely in his lover’s hold. For a shorter man, he sure was strong, stronger than him. Not that he’s going to admit that his love’s strength us one of his favorite attributes about him. No siree. “Dr. Byun needs my report as soon as possible.”

“I’m not hearing any of it,” the older declared as they finally entered the room. Immediately, Junmyeon gently pushed Sehun onto their unmade bed. He then proceeded to stack blankets upon blankets, which somehow ended up on the floor, on top of his beloved. “You have a cold. Take a rest will you?”

It wasn’t long before a sea of blankets rested on top of the brunet. Underneath the layers of fabric, Sehun attempted to protest once again. “But-”

“Sehun,” Junmyeon sighed exasperatedly. He paused for a second as he walked over to the bedside table in order to grab their only thermometer. With a smooth voice, he said, “Love, I’m sure Dr. Byun would understand if you don’t turn in your amazing research concerning rocks by Friday.” Once he finished his thoughts, the older pressed the cold surface of the thermometer against Sehun’s temple and waited.

Just as the brunet opened his mouth to say that he’s fine, no need to check his temperature again, the thermometer dinged.

“39 degrees,” Junmyeon tsked before setting the instrument down on the bedside table. “You’re staying in bed, mister.”

Finally admitting defeat, Sehun sunk into their mattress and let his beloved fuss over him. However, in the deepest depths of his mind, he knew that he would be lying if he thought that he didn’t enjoy this treatment. Not that he’ll state it out loud.

-four-

“Why didn’t you call me?” Junmyeon asked the minute he walked through the front door. His forehead glistened with sweat as he stripped the multiple layers from his body. One by one, coats and sweaters were piled on the floor nearest to the door. From his frantic behavior, it’s evident that he rushed over here from his previous destination after hearing the news from his neighbor.

“I didn’t think it was serious,” Sehun responded with a scratchy voice as he watched his boyfriend from his position curled up on the couch. The former was bundled up with two rather large blankets and wore Junmyeon’s oversized hoodie as he watched subtitled episodes of Haikyuu!! on the television. To be honest, Sehun looked absolutely adorable; if not for the fact that he had a small, grey bucket settled right next to his hip with a bright blue box of tissues cradled in his arms. Not to mention his sickly pale skin and his red nose. Overall, anything but, “not serious.”

The blond sighed in irritation as he crossed the room to feel his beloved’s forehead. This. Boy.

Sure, said male is twenty-three years young, yet his level of judgment seriously needed some work.

“Having a high-grade fever and vomiting after each meal is not ‘not serious,’ love.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Sehun responded defensively while he watched Junmyeon leave his side to head into the kitchen, most likely to fill a bag with ice to reduce his temperature. “You told me that your client ordered a complicated list of desserts for their event this Friday.” He coughed. “I didn’t want to stress you out.”

From their small kitchenette, Junmyeon’s face was graced with a slight smile. While Sehun was the one that was ill and suffering, the younger felt worried about his workload. In any other situation, this would be endearing; yet it made Junmyeon feel uncomfortable. He could not let go of the fact that his beloved ignored his own health for the older’s sake.

Snapping back to the land of the conscious, Junmyeon quickly filled the ice bag before returning to the main room where his boyfriend sat in misery.

“Love, your health means much more to me than my clients and their orders. Especially more than Mr. Wu’s glow-in-the-dark cake,” the older soothed as he took a seat next to his ill boyfriend. Junmyeon then placed the ice bag on the younger’s head, holding it in place to ensure that the bag did not fall. “Besides, I left Kyungsoo in charge. I’m sure he can handle Minseok and Zitao for the rest of the day.”

Before Sehun could smile back at the words of reassurance, a sudden sensation caused him to quickly turn to his side and heave into the bucket situated there. As Sehun’s body emptied the little amounts of food in his stomach, Junmyeon wordlessly set the ice bag aside as he rubbed the brunet’s back soothingly.

After he emptied any sort of food from his stomach, Sehun leaned away from the grey bucket, sank into the cushions of the couch behind him, and closed his eyes. He did not want to see the disgusting mixture of soup and bile that sloshed within the container next to him.

Seeing that his love was finished with his business, Junmyeon quietly stood up, as to not disturb the ill male, and took the container away to the bathroom with the intention of washing said bucket.

As the blond left the main room, he heard Sehun whisper, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, love.”

-five-

The day eventually turned to night. The bright apartment darkened as the hours passed. In the bedroom, a certain twenty-three-year-old and his twenty-six-year-old companion had long since retired to bed. It had been a long day. The former apparently caught a bug from one of his colleagues. However, it was nothing he could not handle. He would be fine before the week ended.

In the meantime, Sehun would enjoy his time with his boyfriend.

With him being a researcher in geology and Junmyeon owning a bakery, Sehun spent only so much time with his lover. While he was sick and miserable, he would cherish the moments in which the older took care of him.

That night was one of those moments. At that moment, the older of the two had his arms wrapped around the middle of his boyfriend as he snuggled into his back. Their legs were so intertwined that it was difficult to see who’s leg belonged to who. Nothing but comfortable silence was shared between them.

That was until Sehun groaned and shifted his position. While he could handle most the symptoms that came with this bug (i.e. a runny nose, slight fever, etc.), the one major symptom he could not handle was the mind-splitting headaches. Not that he would admit that out loud though.

“Sehun?” Junmyeon rasped as he unwrapped his arms from his beloved’s torso to cast a look of concern. “Are you alright?”

While the younger was saddened by the loss of contact, he pushed that aside and responded, “I’m fine, Jun. Just another headache.”

“Are you sure?” Junmyeon persisted. The last thing he wanted was for his boyfriend to cry again from the intense pain he experienced from the previous headache because of his carelessness.

A few moments of silence passed as Sehun tried to ignore the pounding within his skull.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” At that, Sehun laid back down on their queen-sized mattress as Junmyeon joined him not long after. They then slipped into one of the routines they had developed over the last three years: Junmyeon’s arms encased the younger from behind with Sehun relaxing into his hold.

However, the peace did not last long. A few moments passed before Sehun groaned in pain yet again.

Yet before Junmyeon had the opportunity to remove his arms from Sehun’s middle, the latter let out something akin to a whine.

“No,” he protested, “Just hold me like this.”

“But Sehun,” Junmyeon hesitated. “You’re sick.”

“No, I don’t care,” Sehun slurred in return. All he wanted was his boyfriend’s comfort when his head decided to kill him. “This makes me feel better.”

A few moments passed as Junmyeon weighed his options and the pros/cons of each option. Finally, he said, “Alright. Besides, I have a strong immune system.”

  -bonus-

As the end of autumn drew near, Sehun’s health seemed to improve ever so slightly. His bouts of nausea and discomfort lessened, and for once this season, he felt as if the universe was doing him good.

However, that lasted until one, fine December morning.

It took a lot for Oh Sehun to genuinely freak out; making sure that his boyfriend was properly cared for as said male suffered from a cold was one of those situations.

“‘I have a strong immune system,’ he says,” the brunet muttered under his breath as he searched the medicine cabinet. In all the years he had known Junmyeon, the latter had fallen ill thrice, not including this time. Why the hell do we have six bottles of Midol in here? Sehun thought as he pushed aside bottle after bottle.

“Technically,” Junmyeon weakly called out from his position on the bed. He was under a pile of warm blankets with used tissues strewn around him. Apparently, the bin was “too far” to reach (read: it was next to the bedside table.) “This is your fault for kissing me the other week.” He coughed for a moment before continuing, “Therefore, you brought this upon yourself.”

Popping out of the bathroom with a bottle of cold medicine, Sehun retorted, “We do not bring up my past mistakes.”

When Junmyeon saw his boyfriend approach the bed, he propped himself up and leaned against the headboard. When Sehun reached the bed and sat on the end, most likely to avoid the mounds of tissues, Junmyeon took the medication with grace. Well, as much grace one could possess while feeling like shit.

Once he was finished, Sehun took the bottle back and set it on the bedside table. It was then that he remembered their previous conversation and picked up with, “Besides, you complied with my actions.”

“You know I can’t say no to you,” Junmyeon defended.

“True, but now I have to take care of you,” Sehun sighed, “I won’t be as good as you though.”

“I have confidence in you, love,” the blond comforted before another cough racked his body. Despite that, the older male managed to direct a weak smile toward the younger. Naturally, Sehun grinned back.

The two then entered a comfortable silence before Junmyeon’s suddenly eyes lit up. With the strongest voice he could muster, he joked, “You know what, think of it as payback for all the times I took care of you these last few months.”

  “Oh shush your mouth.”

While Oh Sehun was not the greatest caretaker (the burnt soup and other situations proved the said point), as long as he had Junmyeon silently guiding him along the way, everything would be fine.

~~~

Inspiration... depleting...

-A 

#exo #exo k #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #sehun #oh sehun #exo suho #suho #exo sehun #kim junmyeon #seho #hunho #fluff #oneshot #one shot #exo fluff #exo fic #domestic fluff

[pigeonfare]

of ailments;

jason todd / reader

rating: teen and up

summary: Jason’s not the world’s best caretaker to the sickly, but he does the job quite nicely. Although, it might be said that he cares a little too much, and that’s a vice if you’ve ever heard one. You don’t particularly mind though.

word count: 2k+

author’s note: a short n corny sick fic that can also fit in the same universe as this soulmate au fic that takes place first

He had a bad habit of not using your front door like a regular person— or better yet, a decent human being. It’s unsettling, in retrospect, to realize how comfortable and accustomed you’d become to see him land on your balcony on lazy afternoons with a sort of nonchalance you could never understand, expecting to be invited in. 

“Keep them unlocked for me,” he’d requested once after you pulled open the door, and while you pondered on this, the retort came swift.

“Jason, we live in Gotham. Why would I want to keep any door unlocked?”

“If a criminal wanted to get into your apartment, trust me, a simple lock isn’t gonna keep them out.”

“That... really doesn’t comfort me. Just use the front door! Knock!”

“But don’t you think there’s something poetic about me, waiting for you out on your balcony on a cool, summer evening?”

“Poetic?” you had repeated, and your mind replayed how the glass fractured when his body came in contact with it all those weeks ago. The first meeting that brought everything together in the most surreal way. “Yeah, right.”

“You do think it’s poetic-- you just don’t want to admit it.” Jason then shrugged. “Whatever. You’ll come around eventually.”

Ultimately, you end up keeping the balcony doors unlocked, taking his word (albeit reluctantly) that you’d remain safe. He still knocked before he entered however, which was... considerate of him. Although on the more busy days, too distracted to notice the incessant knocking, his sporadic presence in your kitchen causes quite the fright anyway. 

Today was not that kind of day, however. 

You awake bleary-eyed to the sound of tapping after spending the entire day cooped up in your room, bedridden. Oh, no. That’s embarrassing. 

You pull yourself upright, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, feeling conflicted on whether to get out of bed and greet Jason, or let him see you in your most pure, miserably sick form.

You stick with the latter, pulling at your duvet with sweaty fingers. You hear his combat boots click on the hardwood floors and cringe at the thought of cleaning them. Again. And it’s not doing much good for your headache either.  At least you had the sick time hours to cash in.

Your eyes flutter open, hearing him call out your name out of the blue. “You there?” he hums out in a low tone.

As if it were a reflex, you open your mouth, prepared to croak out an incoherent noise. But then you think better of it and your breath hushes and wordlessly, you slip back under your covers to feign sleep instead. 

Did he often visit your apartment while you were at work? You always presumed he’d leave after realizing you weren’t there, but the combat boots don’t stop their shuffling.

To be frank, you partially do want him to leave, so he wouldn’t see you looking all snotty and weary like this. Not the greatest impression you wished to make, after all. 

Light in streaks peek through your blinds so you can only assume noon has struck already. Running a finger over your dark circles, you wonder about what kind of cracks he’d make at your condition if he saw you.

Guys like him probably fell ill once in every five years at the minimum, their immune system all jacked up. You wish you could relate.

Deep in your own thought, you don’t realize when the footsteps have silenced. Had he left? You didn’t hear the lock click behind him, either. You wait another moment and under the impression he’d left, attempt to sit up. With that said, it was also probably time for your to exit the your cozy haven and eat something. 

Attempting to slide out from underneath your covers, your leg catches on the edge of the blankets, dragging it down onto the ground. Consequentially, your knees buckle from the slip but you catch yourself before you make the ultimate fall by grabbing onto the edge of your nightstand. 

In this ruckus, your phone, that had been peacefully charging atop the nightstand, is knocked off, landing on the wooden floor with a sharp thud. The screen lights up at the impact, and you wince. 

You sigh, but whilst you lean over to swipe it up and plug it back in, something clangs outside your bedroom.

With a loud creak, your head jerks up to meet the wide gaze of Jason Todd, who’d pulled open the door with great gusto. This was definitely not what you planned.

“Uhh,” you say over the parch conditions of your throat. You tuck back your stray hairs with the other, unoccupied hand. “Hi.”

With furrowed brows, he grunts a clipped, irritated noise. “You... what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you reply hastily. But when you pull yourself upright, you’re hit with a wave of vertigo and shut your eyes tight. “I think I’ve got a cold. Maybe.”

“You think, huh? Hold on, I’ll-- I’ll get you a glass of water.” Jason slips away before you can protest. “I think I know where you keep your glassware.”

Tossing the phone to some corner of the bed, you sit yourself on the edge and mull over the situation with a sort of exasperation. You run your tongue along your bottom lip, and as you sit, you’re becoming increasingly more aware of your familiar surroundings. 

There’s a particular pulsing in your brain and as an effort to distract yourself from it, you open your mouth.

“Very chivalrous of you,” you say, loud enough for him to hear through the apartment. You listen to the clink of glass on the stone counter top. “To not enter my room when I’m not around.” There’s a husky rasp in the way you speak cannot be cleared away, so you let it tinge your voice helplessly.

He clicks his tongue as he reappears into view. “Should’ve told me you were sick. I would’ve gotten you some stuff.”

You only shook your head. “Already took the aspirin. I’m just trying to quietly sweat it out now.”

You admit you’re feeling hazy, but the way he stands at your ajar doorway, with his hand on the handle and looking in with a concerned countenance gives you a strange rush. You do your best to crack a small smile.

Walking over, he hands you the glass of water with a tilted, disapproving gaze. “That’s why you didn’t answer me earlier? Dummy. I’m not that much of a nuisance.”

“I never said that!” you protested, then take a swig before setting the glass aside. “I just don’t want to waste your time.”

Jason snorts. “You must really be sick if you’re saying this shit sincerely. Come on. Get back in bed.”

“No, what? I just spent the entire day lying down.” You pull yourself up again, and with a hand on his shoulder, try to coax him around. “How’s-- uh, how’s the team?”

“Changing the subject? Really?”

“Jason--”

“Oh man,” says Jason, suddenly pressing the large palm of his hand against your forehead.

You breathe in shallow takes, feeling his calluses fingers trail down the curve of your face, across your jaw, and down, down. They ghost over the column of your throat, and you swallow dryly. “What?” you ask.

“I think you’re flatlining. Sorry, babe— time’s up. Back to bed.” A frown tugs at his features but the gleam in his bright eyes say otherwise.

“Shut up,” you sigh, swatting his hand away weakly. It could’ve been worse. At the very least, you’ll be fit to work by tomorrow. 

At some point in all that you’d shut your eyes, so you snap them back open to squint up at him, but his gaze is vividly preoccupied with the movement of his fingers flicking the locks of hair out of your visage. When he finally reaches your puzzled look he pulls away.

“Rest, I’ll just--,” he gestures over his shoulder to the door. “Leave.”

“Already?” you ask, and purse your lips. That’s not what you meant to say, but it’s too late now. 

His strong gaze shifts back to you in an instant, and with his chin tilted upward, lets a crooked smile loose. “Didn’t you just want me out, like a few minutes ago?”

“I mean, I do,” you say with deliberation, not wishing to strain your voice any more than you already have. “I don’t want to get you sick either, that’s all.”

“You won’t. I don’t get sick easily. And besides,” he says, “I can always wear my helmet if it gets toxic up in here. Only if you really want me to stay.”

“I...,” you trail off, uncertain on how to reply momentarily, then cough. “Let’s catch up a little. Five minutes, tops.”

“Five minutes? A little frugal with time, are we?” remarks Jason with a tinge of playfulness, and his arms drop to his sides. “It’s fine. Five minutes is plenty for a lot of things.”

“Jason.”

“Only joking about that bit,” he replies. “But I’m serious too-- I’ll leave when you fall asleep, how ‘bout that?”

“Promise?”

His grin widens at your gradual relent. “Promise.”

“Alright, but if I awake and I hear you going through my fridge, I’m not going to let you off the hook,” you say.

A brief, low laugh leaves him, and you feel the weight of his gaze search your face. Silence drifts in the space between you and him, along the layers of cotton, within the heat that radiates off his proximity. You shut your eyes as you sit, the feeling of congestion only worsening your overall sluggish mentality.

The shallow inhalations you take grate at your throat, and you reach over for another swig of water.

“Stop it,” you command (albeit in a mellow fashion) whilst swirling the the glass. “Stop staring at me.”

“I’m not,” you hear him scoff. Then in a slightly sharper voice after clearing his voice, he speaks again. “I wasn’t.”

You don’t respond to this, and you can’t stop the transitory twitch of a smile form at the corner of your lips either. 

“What were you going to do if I really weren’t home, anyway?” you ask.

Jason pauses before he speaks, and it’s a palpable pause. “I was in the middle of texting you when I heard you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I thought you were working overtime again. Realistically speaking, that’s probably a reason for your failing health too.” He tsked and you watch the way he shifts his weight from either foot. “Balance yourself.”

“I am not taking life lessons from a guy who goes out every Friday night actively looking for a brawl.”

“That’s cold. I swear my job is more productive than that, but... if that’s the case, how about we do something different this Friday night?” he muses, and you scoot over, offering him space to sit with you.

“And what would that entail?”

“I don’t know. What are your Friday nights like?”

“Mainly staying up until one in the morning, watching historical drama television.”

“Sounds disgusting,” he says. “I’m in.”

“Then it’s final! Can’t wait.”

“Only if you get better before then. Sorry, I just can’t see myself sharing popcorn with the ill.”

“Alright,” you say with a grumble. “But I can’t have you watching me while I sleep either, Edward Cullen.”

“That’s fair.” He withdraws off your mattress, and instead takes a seat at your desk. The wooden desk is littered with various trinkets you never bothered to clean up, but he doesn’t seem to mind the mess any more than you do. “I’ll be right here,” he says. 

You dig out your phone from underneath the blanket folds and plug it back in to the charger. “You’re still watching me, Jason.”

“Don’t flatter yourself-- I’ve got other matters to take care of, too.”

“Fine. No funny business.”

“None whatsoever.” The smugness oozes from his intonations.

You turn on your side and don’t heed him any more.

By the time you reopen your eyes, the light scattered on the floorboards are no longer there and the sky-- what you can tell of it between the blinds at least-- has turned mildly gray.

The dizziness that was prevalent hours ago had mostly dissipated at this point, and you feel stable enough to stand up without a problem. The bed frame creaks underneath your movement.

But your attention is wholly on the man asleep in your swivel chair, breathing quietly with his hand supporting his head.

You think of waking him up and nagging about him breaking his oath, but after tracing his peaceful posture, it would seem almost cruel to do so. You huff, murmuring under your breath. “Other matters, huh.”

His bangs give him a youthful look, but the broad nature of his body says otherwise. You think that perhaps, if you and him keep these infrequent rendezvous up, you could fall in love without out the pressures of time. Or even, in spite of the pressures. Beneath the loose cotton of his sweatshirt, his chest rises and falls deeply.

You walk back over to your bedside to take the empty glass, your mind in a much more mellow state than before.

“You think I’d be used to all your staring by now.”

You startle, shoulders jumping. Glancing back at Jason, he’s watching you with a sort of lazy yet intrigued regard through half-lidded eyes, and you frown. “You were awake?”

“No. Just a light sleeper,” Jason says. He tousles his dark hair and suddenly the magic of youth is lost as he rubs his jaw. “Who can’t stay asleep if you’re looking at me like that.”

“Sorry, but,” you say, “you must know you’ve got the same problem, right?”

He shoots you an odd look, as if he understood nuances you never picked up on. “Guess we both have something to work on.”

When he leaves, he leaves through the front door this time. You don’t remark on the oddity of this and neither does he. You intended to offer him something to eat, to drink, but knowing that they’d just appear as futile excuses, you stay distant. 

With his hands in his pockets and one last glimpse into your apartment, he opens his mouth but you beat him to the punch. “Thanks for coming over,” you say simply. “Was nice of you.”

Jason blinks. “Yeah, of course. And, uh, get ready for Friday,” he says, taking a step backward. “I’ll provide the snacks.”

“I’ll provide the Netflix,” you promise.

He flashes a grin. “Fantastic,” he says, and then he’s gone. 

You run a hand over your face after you shut the door, and just laugh at the absurdity of it all. A gentle, pleasant laugh that erupts from the fluttering sentiments in your heart, and that runs through all your limbs.

“Oh, man,” you say plainly. “I’m screwed.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd #red hood x reader #dc #writing #this has been in my drafts for so long g

[thelastspeecher]

Phoenix Enchantment AU: Redux

@nour386, when I answered your ask yesterday, I said I had a writing in the works.  Well, I wrote it.  And here it is.  The Phoenix Enchantment AU, but with Ford and Fiddleford as the ones to be turned into phoenixes.  I have some additional ideas (bc I cannot control myself), but this is what I’ve got so far.  Hope ya like it.

              Crash!  The distinct sound of breaking glass startled Ford and Fiddleford out of their slumber.

              “What the hell was that?” Ford muttered.

              “Burglars, maybe?” Fiddleford said. “I mean, the house does look uninhabited.”  He sighed.  “Should we go handle it?”

              “I think-” Ford started.  He stopped.  Voices were carrying to the bedroom.  

              “Good Lord,” a distinct, southern female voice said.

              “Angie!” Fiddleford chirped excitedly.  He stood upright, suddenly full of energy.  “She’s here!”

              “What happened?” a second familiar voice asked.  Ford’s eyes widened.

              “Stan!” he squawked.

              “This place is a sty,” Stan continued.  “There’s no way Fidds has been here recently.  He wouldn’t let it get this messy.”

              “Agreed,” Angie said.  She took a shuddering breath.  “Where- where should we start lookin’ fer clues?”

              “I dunno.  The bedroom? I can smell whatever’s in the fridge from here, so the further you get from the kitchen, the better,” Stan answered. Angie sighed.

              “Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass, Stanley.”

              “Just bein’ careful,” Stan muttered.  Ford and Fiddleford could hear their siblings in the hallway now.  The door, which was slightly ajar, opened the rest of the way, revealing Stan and Angie.  Fiddleford let out a hum of greeting.  “What the- why are there two big-ass birds here?” Stan demanded.  He stormed towards the nest on the bed. “Get outta here!  Go on, shoo!”  Stan gestured wildly at Ford and Fiddleford.  Ford hissed instinctively.

              “Stanley, don’t be rude!” Fiddleford squawked.  Stan frowned.

              “Angie, I don’t want ya in here, there’s bird shit all over.”

              “Stan, cut it out!” Angie snapped.  “It’s fine!”  She joined Stan in front of the nest.  

              “Get away from the birds,” Stan said, putting an arm in front of her. She sighed.

              “If I have to tell ya one more time-”

              “Why is Stan bein’ so overprotective?” Fiddleford burbled curiously.  Angie froze.  She stared at Fiddleford.  Her eyes met his.  “…Angie?”

              “No way,” Angie breathed.  She pushed Stan’s arm away and sat on the edge of the bed, next to Fiddleford.  

              “Ang, I mean it, get away from ‘em,” Stan said.  “Who knows what sorta germs are-”

              “Stan.”

              “You’ve gotta be careful, the doctor said-”

              “Stan.”

              “You can’t even handle the lizards at work anymore-”

              “Stan!” Angie yelled.  Stan stopped. Angie gestured at Ford and Fiddleford. “I found our brothers.”

              “Do hormones make ya hallucinate?” Stan said.  “‘Cause those ‘re birds.”

              “Gravity Falls is weird, remember?  There’s magic ‘n mysterious forces what work here.  Is it really that difficult to think that this is Fiddleford ‘n that’s Stanford?”  There was a flash of light.  Angie yelped. Fiddleford rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his vision.  

              “Wait…” Fiddleford whispered.  He stared at his hands.  “I-”

              “No fuckin’ way,” Stan said in a low voice.  Fiddleford looked up.  Stan was carrying Angie, bridal-style, and both were staring at the bed slack-jawed.

              “We’re- we’re human again,” Ford croaked.  

              “And buck naked,” Stan added.  Angie turned red and immediately looked away.  

              “Stan, put me down,” Angie whispered.

              “Sorry, babe, instinct.”  Stan set Angie down.  “Uh, what happened?”

              “I’d like to revisit my earlier question,” Fiddleford said, covering himself with a thoroughly dirty sheet.  “Yer never this fussy over Angie.  Ya know full well she can handle herself.  Why are ya bein’ so careful with her?”

              “Maybe get dressed,” Angie suggested, still looking away determinedly. “We can have a nice long discussion after that.”

              “Great idea,” Stan said.  He turned around and ushered Angie out of the room.  “Meet us outside.  I don’t trust any surface in this house.”

              Angie was eating a banana and Stan was reading a book when Ford and Fiddleford joined them by the Stanleymobile.  Angie swallowed her mouthful of banana.

              “Ain’t ya a sight fer sore eyes?” she said with a smile.  Fiddleford beamed broadly at her.

              “I could say the same about you, sis.”  Fiddleford embraced her tightly.  Stan tossed his book inside the car and separated Fiddleford from Angie.

              “Okay, Fidds, it’s good to see you, but ya haven’t showered forever, and yer huggin’ too hard.  Take a step back.”

              “What?  Stanley, what has gotten into ya?” Fiddleford asked.  Angie sighed.

              “He’s been like this ever since we found out…” she trailed off.

              “Ever since ya found out…” Fiddleford prompted.  Angie waved a hand airily.

              “Never mind that, Fidds.  We’ll get to it.  First, what happened to the two of ya?” she asked.  She took another bite of her banana.

              “We fell victim to an enchantment,” Ford said.  Angie raised an eyebrow.

              “Oh?”

              “There’s an enchantment in place in Gravity Falls, that turns a couple into phoenixes, if there are not currently any phoenixes in the area,” Ford continued.  “I’m not sure why we specifically were targeted, however.”

              “Huh.  That sucks,” Stan said.  He grinned. “But at least now yer back to normal, eh?  Humans.”

              “That…ain’t quite right,” Fiddleford said quietly.  He looked at Ford.  “Go on, tell ‘em.”

              “While we were looking for clothes to put on,” Ford said, “I came across an ancient bestiary I had hidden in the back of the closet.  It detailed some of the specifics of this particular phoenix enchantment.”

              “That’s lucky,” Stan remarked.  Ford nodded.

              “It is.  Now we won’t be surprised when- when we revert back to phoenixes tomorrow.”  Stan and Angie’s jaws dropped.  “Apparently, the enchantment is sort of a riff on a classic were curse.  We can only take a human form during the full moon, but for the rest of the month, we are stuck as phoenixes.”

              “But you two were missin’ fer months,” Angie pointed out.  “Did ya really turn human durin’ that time?”

              “Not once.  The ability to turn human was effectively unlocked after you recognized us, Angie.” Ford smiled weakly at her.  “Thank you for that, by the way.”

              “No problem,” Angie mumbled.  Ford put his hands behind his back.

              “We actually would like to request a favor from the two of you,” Ford said.  “Clearly, we owe you for coming to check on us and allowing us to resume a human form. So we understand if you’re unwilling to do this for us.”               “Yer our brothers,” Stan said.  “If the two of ya need some help, we can handle it.”

              “Thank you,” Ford said.  “While we’re working on getting the house back in order and trying to set things up to accommodate for our…new lives, we would greatly appreciate it if you could stay here to help.”  Stan and Angie exchanged a concerned look.  “What?”

              “Stan should’ve known better ‘n to offer to do it ‘fore ya said what it was,” Angie mumbled.  “We- I’ve got a doctor’s appointment next week.”

              “That’s fine, you can come up after it.”

              “And then I have another one next month,” Angie continued.

              “We can’t just drop everything to move up here,” Stan said.  “We’ve got jobs, and our house and-”  He looked at Angie.  “Should we tell ‘em?”

              “Tell us what?” Fiddleford asked.  He frowned, worried.  “Is somethin’ wrong?”

              “No, not at all,” Angie said.  She squeezed Stan’s hand warmly and smiled at her boyfriend.  “Somethin’s very right.”

              “Did you crazy kids fin’ly get engaged?” Fiddleford said eagerly.

              “Yes, but that’s not what we’re referrin’ to,” Angie said.  

              “Then what could-” Fiddleford started.

              “Stanley, why are you reading a book called Baby Incoming?” Ford asked, peering into the Stanleymobile.

              “Take a wild guess,” Stan said snippily.  

              “Yer expectin’!” Fiddleford squealed.  Stan nodded.  “That explains the doctor’s visits, ‘n bein’ so careful with Angie, ‘n- Angie, ya shouldn’t approach wild animals in yer state!”  Angie threw her hands up in the air.

              “Great, now there’s two of ya to fuss over me like I don’t know how to take care of m’self.”

              “Fiddleford has a point,” Ford said.  “As I understand it, pregnancy reduces the function of the immune system. Wild animals can carry any number of diseases.  It’s irresponsible to risk-”

              “You too, Ford?” Angie said, aghast.  She shook her head.  “I expected better of ya.”

              “But, given the situation, I understand why you’re reluctant to move here,” Ford conceded.

              “What if you moved in with us?” Stan said.  “We can send Lute and Harper up here to clean up the house, get things in order, and in the meantime, you crash at our place.”

              “That’s a good idea,” Angie jumped in.  “I think Stan agrees that it ain’t wise fer ya to be on yer own, and it’d take a while fer Lute and Harper to get here.  Not to mention, they can fix things up faster without keepin’ an eye on you.”

              “Angie, if you ‘n Stan are expectin’, we don’t want to be a bother,” Fiddleford said.

              “Oh, please.  It’ll be no bother.  Maybe you’ll even be able to help around the house, once I start gettin’ big.”

              “They’ll be birds, babe,” Stan said.  Angie shrugged.

              “Birds can pick things up.  I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

#I have an idea for a couple other scenes #including Marley meeting the birbs (Angie calls Fidds and Ford ''Higgs'' and ''Boson'' while in phoenix form) #the birbs with Tate and Molly #and also everyone breaking the news to the fambly #I decided to post this now tho bc it's like 1.5k anyways #and also to see if there's any interest #anyways time for bed goodnight everyone #Phoenix Enchantment AU #Fiddleford McGucket #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #my writing #ficlet

[trekkin-bubblegum]

A change of scenery (part one)

It took me a lot to write this so I hope you enjoy.

I dedicate this to my wonderful mum

Warnings: none I don’t think

pairing: none yet 

 “His daughter is a mermaid, but approach her with caution. Her mind swims at depths most would drown in”

“you just have to hope Scotty won’t be sitting day after day, year after year saying, ‘I love you’ before kissing her headstone”

“you read the file then”

“of course, I did, like the rest of the crew I, will be responsible for her health, also when I found out scotty had a daughter I couldn’t not read the file, I mean why wouldn’t he say something”

“he was sworn to secrecy by Starfleet, he almost got condemned for it”

“because he fell in love?”

 “he fell in love with a woman from the 20th century, doctor”

“I thought his daughter was born in the 21st”

“yes, but her mother was born in the 1960s, the girl was born in the year 2000”

“the girl has a name its (Y/N) (Y/L/N) born on the (Y/B/D) 2000”

“I know we clarified that doctor”

“when does she come aboard?”

“we pick her up from star base six in a few hours, she has been in our time for about six months”

“they deemed her immune system strong enough, but I will be giving her a fully physical just to make sure”

“bones, bones you need to give the girl a chance, she’ll be absolutely terrified, remember she did lose her mother not that long ago, her mother died in an invisible war one of the first victims of that attack”

“not before innocence”

“what do you mean by that?”

“the first victim of war is innocence, especially when it is an invisible war, how could people live like that, how could people go to work on a train and know that a terrorist could attack them it’s not even like attacks were rare they happened just about every month”

“why don’t you ask the girl”

“she’s been through enough without me pestering her”

“I thought you were going to give her a physical?”

~

My eyes bore into the ceiling above, a whir of a tricorder next to my head and talking from the doctor next to me, but I found myself a little too distracted my mind kept going back to the night my mother died, it was the first night I finally understood why people fear silence and at that moment when I saw the life leave her beautiful eyes it was at four years old I realised that none of us are immortal.

My mother has always told me that my father was a solider but he had to leave to go to war and only a flag came back. But when my mother died, I almost died too. The straight line is the most terrifying thing I have experienced.

Losing my mother made me think that if I take a deep breathe will I breathe clean air, or will my lungs be filled with chemical gas and children will die around me. When you lose someone like I did these questions, I don’t believe in God, used to but how can I love anyone if I am going to lose them, I will never love this man who is my dad. He left me in my time of need, didn’t even come to see me sent people in uniforms, from the federation, how can I love someone that who for all my life I had never known.

~

“energize”

There she stood. A small girl with mousey brown hair at waist that was done in thick braids, big brown eyes peeked out from thick eyelashes, she kind of looked like scotty but it really was only the eyes.

“good afternoon, Miss Scott, unfortunately your father has been caught up in engineering so Mr Spock, Doctor McCoy and I will conduct a tour of the ship when you are ready, but first we will show you to your quarters”

“thank you, sir”

Smiling at her Scottish accent I helped her down of the transporter pad, I looked to Bones who was studying her.

“this way” she smiled faintly at me and Bones ever the southern gentleman put his arm out to her which she took, just got to hope we don’t run into Mr Scott along the corridor.

Taking in her clothing I quickly realised it was Starfleet transportation uniform with a green stripe on the sleeve, which is the standard civilian uniform colour if being transported between space stations or ships.

“These will be your quarters they connect with your fathers we do hope you will be comfortable in your draw you will find some clothes that communications officer Uhura, nurse Chapel and yeoman Rand, who you meet later, we will leave you for now to get settled, your father will be along shortly”

“thank you, Sir”

After leaving her quarters I turned to Spock and McCoy. “so, what do we reckon?”

“what do you mean, Jim” chuckling at Spock’s inability to understand a human question.

“what he means by that Mr Spock, is what we think of the girl”

“yes, Doctor I understood the context quite clearly”

“then why ask the question”

“gentlemen, gentlemen all I did was ask a question” I said getting into the lift

“she seems nice, doesn’t say much though”

“Doctor, although I am not familiar with human emotions I can understand that she will be nervous and or scared by all of this”

“Spock, look here I am a doctor I’m now her doctor, so stop trying to be her physiologist”

“doctor, I sim-“

“bridge”

“simply was explaining what she must be feeling, I am a Vulcan not a Betazoid I cannot possible know what she is thinking”

Spock finished the conversation and went to his station, probably realising that some mediation would be happening tonight. One-nil to Bones, he lent on the back of the chair chuckling.

“Mr Scott” I said over the communicator

“aye sir”

“your daughter is on board and in your new quarters”

“thank you, sir, if you don’t mind I was going to finish up here”

“of course, Mr Scott, you are off duty tomorrow”

Smiling to myself I cut off the communication.

 ~

I stood in the middle of my new room it was a reasonable size there was a sort of living room area which had a table and chairs then through a small door way was a bed, a wardrobe, a desk with what looked to be a computer and next to it a small book shelf already filled with classics and some textbooks. Through another door leading of my room was a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, sink and vanity table peeking in the draws I found some makeup and jewellery and in a draw below that was an arrangement of soaps, deodorants and perfumes. Walking back though to my room area I peaked in the wardrobe there were a couple of dresses and jump suits, including the green Starfleet civilian transportation uniform. Sighing I sat down on the bed, looking over to the desk I spotted a piece of paper.

“dear Miss Scott,

Welcome aboard the USS Enterprise, before you get fully settled there are some rules which you must pay attention to as this is an on-duty government vessel.

1.       There are restricted areas on the ship and we ask that you pay attention to this unless you have permission from myself, the Captain.

2.       If someone ask for you over ships communication, you must acknowledge.

3.       It will be at your father’s discretion what punishment you are given if you break any rules, unless it is severe then it will be either first officer Spock or myself.  

4.       We do not mind your choice of clothing but please make sure it is appropriate, please follow this if a planet dignitary if coming aboard the ship.

5.       Unless stated by the person you must refer to them by rank and last name for example first officer/ lieutenant commander Spock.

6.       Please respect that shift work takes place on the ship so some people may be sleeping at different times

7.       By law of the federation you must have at least four hours a day of schooling by a Starfleet tutor

8.       If an alarm sounds please contact the bridge to let us know where you are if yellow alert sounds make your way to either the bridge or your quarters, if red alert or battle stations sounds make your way to sickbay and intern Doctor McCoy’s office and wait until further instructions from a senor crew member (lieutenant-commander and above).

We hope that you have a pleasant time on the enterprise for more information on rules and regulations please see the book on your book shelf titled ‘United Federation of Planets: rules and regulations of an on-duty Star Ship’.

Yours sincerely

Captain James T. Kirk

U.S.S Enterprise

Placing down the piece of paper I looked up at the wall and saw a clock I saw the time was 12:20 pm. I walked into the bathroom I went to take a shower this was all a little too much to handle.

After stepping out I got dressed and walked into my room where I saw a hunched figure in a red shirt sitting on my bed.

“um hello?”

“oh! sorry I dinnae mean tae startle you- “

“are you Mr Scott, my dad”

“yes lass, how do you do?”

“I’m” my voice cracked and I was so overcome with emotion I could no longer speak.

“hey, come here” he said pulling me into his arms and suddenly the man who I didn’t think I could love was gone and my father was holding me, crying into his chest he just held me.

Pulling away from him I got a good look at his face. I think I saw a man who I had known my entire life, but I knew it wasn’t true studying his face through my tears I saw a man who looked surprisingly venerable, he had wrinkles mapping out his eyes and corners of his mouth. You could tell he needed a shave and a haircut and that’s when I realised it is because of me as soon as he was informed I was alive or informed he has a daughter, he was probably going mad with wanting to meet me. For months now I had been thinking about him, criticizing him, but he didn’t deserve any of my insults that I had for him because he is my father and I’m not all.

#star trek #leonard mccoy #james t. kirk #montgomery scott #nyota uhura #Christine chapel #fanfiction #star trek fanfiction

[brothers-all]

Memory (Tome'tayl)

Okay people, new one! Also, the winner of the vote is at the end of the chapter - for those who don't know yet.

So, Vod'ika is officially finished - yey! Kinda. I've got this story now, the winner of the vote and a bunch of others to work on... *agonizing groan* As always, read, review and enjoy~

Chapter 13 Te baar'ur 

Their job, was to save as many as they could, as quickly as they could, whenever they could. Sometimes, that didn't mean everyone. It didn't mean those they really wanted. It didn't mean those who deserved it…

"The Cardoonie Chills…" he muttered to himself, looking down at the book, as his brothers played Sabacc – again.

"Ha! Take that!"

"Stable structure… Could develop an immune system…" he blinked momentarily as Turm growled, almost smacking his head into a wall.

"C'mon, don't be a sore loser."

"Ah, you could use vaccines," he smiled, turning the page as they started around round.

"Pion?"

"Another version? During the Bacta War…" his eyes widened slightly as he read.

"Pion?"

"Halanit – the poor people…"

"Pion!"

"Yes?" he snapped up instantly, eyes wide and almost throwing the book away. His brothers gave him mildly amused looks though.

"You've been reading that thing for days now. Take a break," Jezdec nodded to the cards as an invitation.

"But there are so many more diseases to understand!" he looked at them, fear and sadness as he thought of all the possible ways for them to die.

"Pion, you still have time to learn all of it. Four years. Taking one night off, won't show," Rex gave a smile, making some room next to him.

"…I guess…" the 'pawn' sighed, setting his book down.

"Finally, someone Turm might beat," Bishop smirked as the said brother sent him a glare.

"I'll get you yet Bish!" Turm swore and dealt out the cards.

"I'm waiting."

Later, when they were done and heading to bed, Pion snuck off to the refreshers. Said he'd be in the pod soon. But when he was sure the others were asleep, he went for the book he had set down and made himself comfortable once again.

"Bloodburn. Rare, chronical and often terminal illness of the blood. Usually falling on starship pilots…" he read quietly to himself in the dim light, memorizing everything as best he could. In his locker, there were five more books he managed to borrow, and he still needs to read them all. Maybe not in one night, but he'd do it as soon as he could.

. . .

"We need medical help down here!" the transmission was weak and breaking every now and then as another explosion rocked the ground.

"We are dealing with an unknown virus. My men are collapsing, coughing blood and having fevers! We don't know what to do!" the Jin leader, Akan, urged, looking scared.

"We'll send help as soon as we can, but the Separatists aren't making it easy," Skywalker said back, catching his balance as another explosion came not far off.

"Please hurry… I don't know how much longer we can last."

"Rex, Rex, do you read me?" Anakin called into the com. link, leaving the small shelter.

"Sir?" Rex managed to answer in the brief pause of fighting.

"Send the best medics you can to the underground bunkers – the Jin need immediate medical help!" the order came.

"Right away sir. We'll keep the clankers buys while they make their way down," the fighting resumed when the tank walked up, firing away.

"You do that and I'll try to find their leader. End this as soon as we can…" the link ended and Rex opened up another one, by the medical camp they had not far off.

"Pion, come in!" he called, firing away at the incoming droids.

"Rex, what is it? I'm in the middle of-!"

"The Jin need help, now. I need you to head down there and see what you can do," the medic could hear the blaster fire on the other side.

"But, Zipline and Smoke-!" Pion shook his head, glancing at the wounded brothers.

"You can let Patch work on them! But the Jin need someone who knows their biology and has a wide knowledge of diseases. That's you."

"…I'm taking Scar with me. He knows about as much as me," there was some moving of equipment in the tent.

"Fine, you do that. We'll cover you from here."

"Captain, incoming!" he heard from behind and managed to throw himself to the ground as the heavy gunners came up.

"Took your time," the blonde muttered as Turm walked over, helping him stand.

"Had to take care of the west side. Nitro got excited," the 'rook' explained as they saw the wave of droids get mowed down.

"Well, we'll need to provide cover for Pion and Scar – they're heading to the Jin bunker."

"Someone's hurt?"

"Yeah, something like that…"

"W-Where are you going?" Patch asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

"To the Jin. They need our help ASAP," Scar said, strapping on his pack.

"But, the others-?"

"You have Fixer and Kix around – there's enough batca patches here and a reserve in the crate. We're leaving them in your care," Pion set an assuring hand on his shoulder.

"…No pressure, right?" Patch sighed but nodded.

"C'mon, it's what we're best at."

"Rex, I thought I said you'd take care of it," Pion whispered into the com. seeing another squadron of clankers coming.

"I'm working on it, okay?" came a frustrated reply. "Take cover you two – I'm sending bombers down the north side."

"Oh, now he tells us…" Scar grumbled as the two rushed away from that side. After they cleared, they saw the two bombers flying overhead, dropping their bombs and clearing the droids from the path.

"You two are good to go," came the Captain's voice as they moved towards the underground bunker. Luckily, the droids haven't spotted it.

When they finally did arrive, the Jin looked surprised. If they could. Most were on the ground, groaning and crying from the pain. One of them stepped forward, looking frightened, but still spoke strongly.

"You must be the medics General Skywalker sent. I am Akan." he sounded grateful as he smiled.

"That's us. Now, can you tell us what's going on – symptoms, effects… Anything," Pion said as they walked to the nearest Jin, eyes already scanning.

"As I told the Jedi – they collapse and then say they feel pain everywhere. Many are coughing blood and most have fevers. I cannot tell you more than that," Akan said grimly, probably feeling useless.

"They have spots on their abdomen - Peritonitis maybe?" Scar carefully rolled up the Jin's outfit.

"No, it's not found around here and the marks only appear on Humans. Creek Fever maybe?" Pion set his pack down, already rummaging for supplies.

"Only found on Yavin 4 moons – we're five solar systems away from them," Scar gently prodded the Jin along the neck. "Could be Rhinacyria, but there aren't enough symptoms for that," he added, as the Jin coughed up blood.

"Akan," Pion turned to the leader, who kept a distance, but looked anxious. "Did the Separatists do anything before the fighting started?"

"W-Well, there was this… giant shell? It looked like a bomb, but it did not explode. In fact, nothing happened. It was empty."

"What're you thinking?" Scar saw the 'pawn' rub his chin in thought.

"We might be dealing with a new kind of virus."

"You think the Sepies made one?"

"Could be – experiment and see what kind of bio weapon they can make."

"T-Then, you can't help us?" Akan wasn't really sure what was going on, but the way the medics talked scared him.

"Tch, we don't need their help!" one of the nearby Jin hissed, holding his side as blood oozed from his mouth. "They brought this one us!"

"Rakir! Stop!" Akan moved to hold him down, but Rakir didn't take it.

"Sir, your life is in danger. Lie down and let us help," Scar said, eyes narrowing. He didn't like the tone the Jin was using.

"No! You're the reason this is happening! It's your fault! And you're not even real people! You're just some creatures bred in a lab!"

"Rakir!"

The medics were stunned for a few seconds, before their com. links beeped to life.

"Pion? Scar! We got a problem!" that was Kix on the other side.

"What's going on?" the 'pawn' spoke as Scar's glare deepened. Akan had moved to stop Rakir, but he wasn't making mush progress.

"The fighting's gotten worse. We got more wounded here than we can handle. Patch is just fixing Zag's shoulder," Kix sounded anxious, but hid it well.

"W-Well, we can't just, leave these people!"

"…Then hurry at least. We're losing more than we're saving up here."

"We need a medic – now!" came a different voice on Kix's side.

"What happened?" that was Patch, apparently finished with Zag.

"The Captain's squadron got cut off by a landslide – we lost contact with them. Silver was the only one who managed to get out before the attack."

As Pion listened, his heartbeat skipped a few beats and his blood ran cold. For a few seconds, he couldn't even speak. Turm and Rex were both in trouble. Brothers were dying up there. And he was here, helping some unknown race that didn't want to be saved.

"…What are we gonna do?" Scar asked finally, looking down at the Jin they were helping before. He was getting weaker and weaker and they still had no idea what they were dealing with.

"What we do best," Pion answered weakly. "Save lives."

"The blood pressure is vastly increased," Scar said as the two took off as many clothes as they could from the dying Jin. They had limited time now.

"Get away from him!" Rakir yelled as a few others held him down.

"Oxygen has been cut off as well – a few hours after he got infected probably," Pion was already preparing an injection.

"The esophagus is throttled – it was swelling before," Scar set up another syringe after Pion injected the one he had.

"Are you going to save them?" Akan asked, lost once again as to what was happening.

"We'll do our best to try," they answered and proceeded to list off more symptoms, compare it to known illnesses and remove any which weren't possible for whatever reason. And all the while, they were listening to the medical camp chatter, just to have something to work faster for. The others were doing well, but the battle was long-going.

"Alright, I think we go it," the medics both let out tired breathes as they looked down on the Jin. He was slowly recovering, before falling into a deep sleep.

"Next!" Pion called, already preparing the next set of antidote.

The Jin slowly started moving in closer – the sickest first and the least ones last. But, well, there was someone else who was going last…

"I don't *cough* want your *cough* help!" Rakir hissed, shoving away the hands as his comrades tried to help him.

"Pion, Scar, you two done? Because we could really use some help!" Patch called this time, and there was a scream of pain on his end.

"Listen you self-righteous, stubborn bag of worthless complaining!" Pion has had enough as he frowned, almost growling.

"My brothers are dying up there!" he pointed up at the ceiling. "They're dying for you and your people!" Scar by no means tried to stop him. "They're dying, because I'm down here, saving your people!" the Jin had all stepped away, giving the medic a clear view of Rakir. "So you either shut up and let us heal you now, or we're leaving and you're going to die a slow and painful death! Do you understand me?" he was inches away and Rakir nodded stiffly, unable to even speak. "Good. Now move over. This is going to hurt."

The two were running back to the surface now, feeling the ground shake as the tanks blasted each other.

"Patch – we're on our way!" Scar called as they rounded the pile of rocks.

"Good. We could use extra pair of hands," Patch sounded exhausted as there was muffled groans in the background.

"Any word from Rex?" Pion asked when they could see the camp.

"Still nothing. General Skywalker found the leader however. He's getting him to surrender now," as soon as the two arrived, they saw more brothers than they thought. But only needed a second to get over the shock, before they started helping where they could.

"If they're dead, I'm going to bring them back just to kill them myself…" the 'pawn' grumbled as he worked, the other medics amused by his rantings.

"Something happen down there?" Fixer asked Scar as the latter came to help him.

"Ah, just some stubborn native. Also, never get on Pion's bad side," was the answer and Fixer wasn't sure if he should be scared of amused.

"I heard that," Pion called over at them, not even looking.

It wasn't long after that the battle was over. The enemy leader had surrendered, after Skywalker had a friendly chat with him. That left only one squadron unaccounted for. But only for a while…

"Found them!" Jesse had called, running into the medical camp. It was mostly empty now and they were waiting for news. "They're in bad shape, but alive!" there was an exhausted smile on his face as he spoke.

There was a total of ten soldiers in the squadron and they were all brought in quickly. The landslide forced them all underground, where the com. links weren't working, but they found their way back. Despite the injuries.

"It's not that bad, take care of the others first," Rex assured when Pion saw his bleeding arm. There was a makeshift cast over it, but the shrapnel was still sticking out of it. "Really. Turm has a concussion and Hardcase has a broken leg," he added and could almost hear the 'pawn' curse.

The Captain was actually surprised. Pion was very stubborn when it came to his or Turm's injuries and he would focus on them first. Likely because he didn't want to lose anyone else. But seems like something finally got him to see others needed him more than those two.

As Pion worked on the bandages and batca patches, he wondered how today could have gone differently. If he had never gone down to the Jin, or even left early, he could have saved so many more brothers. But instead, he saved the innocent people. Even that Rakir who probably didn't deserve it.

"As medics we save who we can, when we can. But that doesn't mean everyone. Civilians are your priority – they didn't ask for this war. Your brothers are trained soldiers… I'm sure you understand that," he recalled one of the first lessons he got as a specialized field medic. He didn't really get it back then, but now… Now he does. He doesn't like it, but he gets it. If nothing else, they stopped a biological weapon the Separatists were working on.

Cut! I had different ideas for this one, but well, this is what came out. I kinda like it. Also, all the medical jibber jabber is real - had three different Wookiepedias open just to get all the facts right.

Anyway Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Do review what you thought - I love hearing it! Till next time~

#Memory (Tome'tayl) #captain rex #pion #turm #kix #jesse #fixer #patch #Anakin Skywalker #My Story