#SOBMING

[eeveearoace]

Holy smokes (which moot am I ask) (but like with your writing style <3)

WH-. WH- HUH?????????? ME?????????

WUH???????????

;0; ｡ﾟ(ﾟ��Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

[ag-abreu]

"The ugliest duck I ever shot was on a cold January morning. After waiting for hours, I finally hit an ugly duck on Twitter. It was a rush of excitement and nervousness, and I felt a mix of pride and sadness as I looked at my confirmation email. That ugly duck will always hold a special place in my heart and taught me to respect the shoes we hunt." #airmaxuglyduckling #airmax1 #oregon #lab #airmaxmonth #nike #tinkerhatfield #playsons #sobm #airmaxaddict #sneakerhead #hunt #dogsofinstagram #duckhunting #golden #goldenretriever #pecan #honey #airmaxart https://www.instagram.com/p/CpvC0FnuVdx/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[hockeynoses]

Something inspired me, and I wanted an "I Told You So" situation, so I wrote this. It's only a teeny bit D/s, with a sweet ending.

“Aww, sweetheart, you look miserable,” says A.

“SNF. I amb,” B responds, their words thick with congestion.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling poorly. But you know, this could have been prevented.”

A miserable, viscous sneeze is B’s only response. It fills the tissue that’s held desperately to their face, a constant presence under their red, streaming nose.

“Like I said, if you had only…” A looks at B expectantly, prompting them to finish the sentence.

“If I had… ha… ha’ERRSSHH’IUE!” B groans miserably into their mangled tissue. “If I’d have godden bmy flu shot.”

“Yep. Then you wouldn’t be…”

“Ha’IIGHHH’SHUU! Ugh. Sigg.”

“With?”

“The… huh- the -heh’AAIIEEH’SHUH! With the flu,” B practically whines into the tissue.

“Correct.” A can’t control their smug, satisfied smile. “Now, are you going to listen to me next time?”

“Yes. ihh-KIIISSSHH’iew!”

“Good,” says A, their smile turning sunny.

“Can you brigg bme sobme tea now?”

“Of course, love.”

[youareinlovetv]

WERE AO CLOSE TO AEPDIAW SOBMS J CANT DK TBJS

[thefallendoctor]

im crying over a fucking keychain. A FUCKINF KEYCHAIN.

venti genshin impact broke and i lost him and I miss him sm

he lasted 2 weeks :(

i hope he broke at home bc if not im gonna fuckinf sobm

[lovenonymously]

it is sobm fascinating that this scene where Loki is standing in between Mobius and Sylvie before he goes after sylvie is trying to make us think he chose her. But then we get to the actual conversation they have and it is so obvious that he chose Mobius.

I'll never give up hope 🥹

Mobius in the light Sylvie in the dark Loki in their midst

PURE CINEMA

[steaksex]

Dawg, I cannot lie, that post about trainin' a pup, ta be real obedient got ta me sobm quick that by the time I read the tags I was already obeyin' almost instinctually lol

Wonderful! The ones who just need a touch of guidance are often my favorites. A gentle guiding hand, a firm tone of voice. That's all you need, isn't it? Since you're so eager to obey, and since you handled those first instructions so well, here is another set for if you wish to do them:

1) You will get some water. If possible, you will lap it up from a bowl on the floor like a dog for a few minutes. After that, you will get another glass and drink as normal so that you gain some tangible hydration.

2) You will do some stretches. I'm sure there are dozens of videos on the internet if you need guidance. Do at least five minutes of stretches, and be gentle with your body as you do.

3) You will survey one space you occupy, be it a room or a common space or a kitchen. You will spend 10 minutes tidying up anything you can, I will not tolerate any pets under my care in unsanitary conditions.

After this, you will tell me that you have done this, and I will tell you how well you've done for me. In fact, I can even post audio telling you how well you've done, if you so wish. Good dogs are due for rewards.

[lowkeywannakermit]

i simply can’t stop thinking about kit describing tys smile as sunset-over-the-water

[thief-anon]

so basically vlog every day in 2029 you say. fine, but im gonna end up vlogging me reading your old wrinkly tumblr too. cause it’ll be old, like you.

[softblesses]

Part 3 💜

By the time the takeout arrived, Neal was asleep and snoring on the couch. He was cuddled up in a blanket, nose fully red now, and still running whilst he slept. Elizabeth was being made to take some sort of evil cough syrup Peter bought after picking up the takeout, but at least her reward was pizza.

El left the table after a couple of slices, gently touching Neal’s forehead and frowning slightly. She picked up the box of tissues, cleaning Neal’s face a little; he barely stirred, only scrunched his nose and rolled over further into the couch cushions. She put the tissues into the waste basket, turning to see her husband giving her a look. “What?” Her eyebrows raised, and a hand rose to her hip. “How d’you think you wake up so clean when your allergies start?”

“El— wait, really? Why didn’t you tell me?” His face contorted into more disgust, and she only laughed.

“Same reason I’d never tell Neal.”

•••

Peter left for work the next morning, ensuring that El stayed in bed for at least another hour after he left. He checked on Neal, sleeping in the guest room, and sure enough the CI was still snoring. He’d crashed pretty early last night, despite the naps he’d had during the late afternoon. Elizabeth promised she’d look out for him, as well as resting herself.

When Neal eventually came downstairs from the bathroom, he looked a little more awake. His hair was still damp, and he looked smaller than usual in Peter’s sweatpants and an old band t-shirt, but it was good to see him up.

“Breakfast?” El offered, gesturing to the cereal on the table.

“I’m nodt thadt hu’gry.” Neal replied, running his fingers through his hair. The steam from the shower had helped his congestion, but it was already returning with a vengeance.

“Can you stomach some fruit?” El suggest. “And breakfast tea?”

He nods at that, taking a seat at the table. “Thagnks.” Neal managed a small smile, sniffling and grimacing at the noise.

Elizabeth doesn’t pay mind to it — Neal Caffrey and gross shouldn’t go in the same sentence, but she’ll give him multiple passes. It’s not his fault. Really, it’s hers. She brings him his tea and fruit eventually, noting how uncomfortable he looks, despite him clearly trying to hide it.

“Have you taken anymore Tylenol?” El asked softly, walking over to press a gentle hand to his forehead, coughing into the other.

Neal shook his head. “Bmozzie’s bri’ging mbe sobme stuff, to help mbe — snfff — ged betder for tom’borrow.” He stood for a moment, searching for the tissue box. Spending what felt like an entire minute blowing his nose, Neal sighed heavily. He still felt congested, but at least his nose had stopped the constant running it was doing last night. He swiped the pair of glasses he’d left on the coffee table and placed them on his face, tilting his head as he felt an incoming sneeze.

Aaaand… it was gone. The least his body could do is let him sneeze when he wanted to, jeez.

“You okay?” El’s voice called from behind him, snapping him out of the temporary haze.

Another slight sniffle, and he reached for a tissue to dab at his nose. “Mhmbm.”

Neal managed to eat most of the fruit, and he drank over half of the tea. Anything that went down his throat hurt, even water, so he wasn’t too keen on continuing. Mozzie couldn’t have timed his knock at the door better, because Neal was starting to feel worse, and contemplating just taking Tylenol and doubling up with Mozzie’s cure later on. He couldn’t take the vials of whatever-they-were quick enough; Mozzie had never revealed his secrets to concocting the stuff. Neal had taken it before… during a job back in Copenhagen. He doesn’t remember much of it.

“Are you sure this is alright for him to take? It’s all legal substances, right?” El gave Mozzie a look, and he smiled, patting her shoulder.

“Fret not, Mrs. Suit. All I can say it that it has the tendency to… make him a little loopy.” He let go of her shoulder, then reached into his bag for something else. “I got you some of your favourite chocolate, and some farmer’s market honey. For medicinal purposes, of course.”

Elizabeth’s expression shifted, and she took the gifts with a warm smile on her face. “Thank you, Mozzie. I appreciate it. And, I won’t ask you to stay, because it’s not likely your immune system would escape empty handed.” She sighed, glancing at Neal, who was once again stuck in a pre-sneeze haze.

“Then I will love you and leave you,” Mozzie deduced. “I hope you both get better! If you need me tomorrow, you know how to reach me.”

Once he was gone, El turned her attention back to Neal. “Bless you…?” She phrased it as a question, watching him struggle. “Let me open the curtains.” She’d learned about this quirk after seeing Neal sick for the very first time, just over a year ago now.

The sun streamed into the previously dimly lit room, and Neal’s eyes fluttered slightly before… ‘heh’kshiEw, hh’tchh—tchh!’ He blew his nose into the tissue he’d been using to cover each sneeze, and blinked away tears. This damn cold wasn’t playing nice with him at all. That’s it. He picked up the vile of slightly green looking liquid Mozzie had left on the table, and downed it in one, trying to suppress a gag afterwards.

“That bad? Even with congestion and lack of taste?” El grimaced, walking over to ensure he was alright.

Neal only nodded, reaching to down his glass of water afterwards. Elizabeth guided him to sit at the kitchen table, and poured him some more water. She figured they only had a short amount of time before the medicine would take full effects, so they’d better finalise their plans for tomorrow sooner rather than later. And, she was exactly right. As time passed, Neal’s words started to get a little more drawn out, he got more fidgety and by the half hour mark he was completely spaced out; staring at the wall behind El.

“Neal? You okay?” El asked softly, carefully waving a hand in front of him.

He blinked rapidly, and then turned his attention back to her. “Okay? Yeah… yeah! I think so. Well, my throat’s kinda better. Headache is sort of less fuzzy. I am congested as fuck though.” Neal paused to take a breath, and then frowned. “Sorry. I don’t like to swear in front of you. It’s not polite. Peter says I swear like a sailor sometimes, but you should hear him in Friday’s morning rush hour traffic, ‘cause this one time—“ he stopped again for breath, and triggered a cough.

Elizabeth simply stared at him while all of this was happening. Call it morbid curiosity, but if this was Neal just as the tincture was kicking in, she truly wondered what was going to happen later.

“What was I saying? Huh. Where… what… the plan. We should go tell Peter. He likes it when I have a plan, and we talk it through and sometimes I draw something. I don’t need to draw much for this. I gotta tell him our plan, El. Let’s go!” He stood, and she’s quick to counter his escape.

“We are on house rest orders, remember?” She reminded him,

“House rest house… shmest. I have Mozzie’s cure now. I’ll be fiiiiiiine.”

“How about we call him?” Elizabeth suggested, trying her best to guide him back to the chair, but he kept dodging her hands.

Neal shook his head, and rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. His usual put togetherness lacked when he got sick, and it seemed it faded even more after taking whatever it is Mozzie had brought. “No, no. He’ll want to talk it out and it’s just distracting over the phone. We gotta do it how we always do it. Get updates too, from surveillance. He won’t call, ‘cause he doesn’t wanna stop us from resting. We go to him. We get iced coffee. We go home. Simple. Pretty easy, no?” The speed of his speech was even faster than usual, and it took El a lot of concentration to keep track of it all.

Neal was right, really. And, maybe it was best they did go to the office — maybe he’d be too preoccupied to run off or to do something ridiculous. Maybe Peter could get him to stay calm. There was only one way to find out.

“Alright, but you have to listen to me. Let’s get dressed, and I’ll put some meds in my bag. You never leave my side, and no caffeine, got it?”

The CI instantly pouted. Elizabeth took him over to the bag Mozzie had brought for him — full of clothes, and a few other things. Instead of a full suit, Neal ended up agreeing on wearing some black sweatpants and a white shirt. He wasn’t very happy about it, but El insisted that he’d look just fine, and technically it was his day off anyway. Once they both were dressed and ready to leave, she handed him a sunglasses case.

“They’re Peter’s, but don’t worry, they’re very fashionable. My Dad bought them for him a few years back, and he barely wears them. You know Peter; appreciates what he loves and doesn’t change that.” She smiled.

“Raybans? These are pretty nice.” Neal placed them on his face, and tucked his glasses into his shirt pocket.

Now, all Elizabeth had to do was get Neal to the office in one piece. And, stop him from getting an iced coffee. Easier said than done, maybe. She called a cab — Peter took the car to work — and spent the entire journey listening to Neal’s rambles. When she told him to stay out of trouble, he told her about the bus driver in second grade who said he was already going ‘down a troublesome path’ when he snuck out and skipped school. She learned that he only drinks iced coffee when his throat hurts, he likes to eat mac and cheese from the box when he doesn’t feel good because it reminds him of home, and that one time Mozzie had hair. Well, she already knew that, but Neal had insisted on telling her.

When they finally got to the coffee shop, El paid (and tipped) the cab driver and apologised for the noisy passenger. She helped Neal out of the car, and lead him inside. “Alright, maybe we can do a fruit infused iced tea, but I really don’t think an iced coffeee is a good idea, Neal.” Elizabeth told him, keeping ahold of his arm.

“Not even a small? A latte? Latte is practically milk. Maybe oat milk. Good for the skin. Oats. Oats for breakfast… so versatile.” He mumbled, squinting at the menu.

“Neal, I —“ Elizabeth was cut off by her cellphone ringing, and stepped aside to answer it. “Hi, hon… is there a reason Neal’s anklet is showing that he’s in the coffee shop opposite the bureau? Uh… well… look, it’s a long story. We’re on our way to discuss the plans for tomorrow. I love you, okay? Mhm. I’m alright, I promise. He’s… okay. Mozzie brought him some stuff. Uhuh. He’s a little out of it, but we came up with a good plan before it settled in. I couldn’t leave him alone! Alright. I love you too. Bye.”

“Is Peter mad at us?” Neal whispered, still holding dutifully onto El’s arm, seemingly in a pacified mood for a moment.

“No, no. It’ll be okay. Now… will you go sit over there, and stay there? I’ll get you an iced coffee and we can go and talk to Peter.”

It took him a minute to process what she had asked, but Neal soon nodded and made his way over to the nearest chair. Elizabeth ordered herself a summer berries iced tea, and Neal a decaf iced coffee. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the difference… and, that he’d get a little distracted by the drink and maybe calm down a little.

Well, she was right about the first part. His face lit up when she brought the drink over to him, and he happily beamed as he took a few sips. The coldness made him cough a little, but he seemed happy enough as they left the coffee shop together. He was still rambling, and El kept a fairly tight hold onto his arm, for fear that he’d wander off without her.

“Are you sure Peter’s in a good mood? Has he had lunch? Or coffee? He gets cranky without those. Did you kiss him goodbye?”

“Neal, Peter’s fine. C’mon. We need to go inside.” She gave his arm a little rub, and lead him into the FBI building, and toward the elevators.

“Beep. Boop.” Neal pressed the call button, and rested his head on El’s shoulder as he sipped at his coffee. Really, it was quite adorable, but she was mostly focused on keeping him close by and in one piece for now.

They wandered into the bullpen eventually, and Neal pushed the sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. Crinkling his nose as they walked, and stumbling a little up the steps, yet he still managed to make one of the new probies blush with a teasing pickup line. El shook her head, chuckling as she opened the door to Peter’s office.

“Peter —“ El was promptly cut off by Neal, who bounded in enthusiastically.

“Hi, Peter! We have a plan. A good plan. Can I sit? I’ll sit on the floor. Elizabeth can sit in the seat.” He rambled again, sitting down cross legged on the carpet.

Peter stared at him for a moment, and then looked at El. “Neal… why don’t you go and lie down in one of the conference rooms? El can tell me the plan, it’s okay.” He suggested, watching as Neal yawned.

“But, I have to tell you the plan, too!” He insisted, rubbing at his nose with his knuckles and frowning as the itch didn’t subside. He sniffled, before ducking to one side.

‘Hu’tsh! — tsh!’ A pause. “Woah.” Neal blinked, getting dizzy.

“Lying down has now become an order, c’mon. On your feet, Caffrey.” Peter stood, hoisting Neal up into his feet and accepting the tissues from his wife, before handing them to the CI.

Neal mumbled something in a slurred voice about how this was against his rights, but he didn’t object too much when Peter guided him to an empty conference room, shut the blinds and ushered him onto the couch. His eyes closed almost instantly, and the feeling of a blanket covering him a few minutes later helped him feel even more comfortable.

A faint ‘I guess this is the part where you get sleepy, instead of loopy,’ could be heard, before Neal began to snore.

Summer Colds.

In which Neal and Elizabeth suffer, and Peter is there to fix it.

Pretty much another classic sick fic of my favourite hyperfixation rn! Please don’t reblog to non kink/whump blogs. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1.

“You’re sick,” Mozzie stated matter of factly, whilst wandering alongside Neal, in the streets of New York.

“I’m fine.” Neal muttered back, rubbing a knuckle under his nose in an attempt to put a stop to the itch.

“You’re not fine! You never sneeze. Like, ever, so unless you can explain the past ten minutes? I’m staying ten steps away, my friend. Ten. Steps. Away.”

“Mozz, you’re being dramatic. It’s nothing, it’s just —“ Neal stopped walking, bringing his elbow to his face. Mozzie was right, but he was hanging on to the small dregs of hope that this was all random and he wasn’t getting sick after all.

‘Heh’kshu!’ The sneezes told a different story.

“Gesundheit. Now, why don’t we do the sensible thing and double back to June’s instead of breakfast? You can go to bed, I’ll get you some medicine and then I’ll make scarce!” Mozzie took a few steps back towards Neal, rolling his eyes at the sound of his cellphone ringing.

He folded his arms, tapping his foot as he listened to his friend speak. “The suit wants you to work?” He questioned, after Neal hung up.

“Elizabeth’s workplace got robbed,” Neal explained, pocketing the phone. “She’s okay, but Peter wants to investigate. Don’t look at me like that, Moz. It’s just a stuffy nose. It’s probably just… allergies, or something.”

“You don’t get any kind of pollen allergies, wise guy.” Mozzie pointed out. “Let me know if El needs my… expertise. I’ll be at breakfast, while you go and tango with the bureau, Sneezy.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you later, Mozzie.” Neal watched him walk away, checking his watch; Peter would be here to pick him up soon.

After almost ten minutes, Peter was parking by the sidewalk and Neal climbed into the back seat; they were picking up Elizabeth, so he naturally assumed she’d go up front.

“Hey, Neal.” Peter greeted, and it was already obvious he was stressed.

“I’m sure Elizabeth is fine,” Neal replied, buckling his seatbelt.

His handler only sighed, driving off again. “I told her to stay home today,” he continued, without acknowledging Neal’s statement.

“Stay home?”

“Yeah… she’s sick, and she already worked from home for a couple days. I just — well, El thinks I’m being too dramatic. It’s just a cold, but, still.”

Ah. That explains how Neal caught what he has. “You worry a lot,” he confirmed. “But, I’m sure Elizabeth appreciates it. She’ll be okay, and I’m sure she’ll work from home tomorrow.”

There was a long pause, before Peter sighed again. They stopped in traffic, and he took a look in the mirror back at Neal. “Maybe you’re right,” he hummed.

“I’m right? Really?”

“Alright, don’t push it.”

“Are you sure you’re not getting sick?” Neal teased, although unbeknownst to Peter he was the one feeling under the weather; Neal’s throat itched, and so did his ears, and he couldn’t breathe through his nose or he’d sniffle and it would make him sneeze again.

“My immune system is top notch, and you know it.” Peter pointed out. “I’m feeling fine.”

“Even when sleeping with Elizabeth?”

Peter shot him a glare in the mirror, and Neal held up his hands. I meant sleeping as in sharing a bed! That’s a sure fire way to get sick.” He scrunches his nose, trying his best to quell the ever growing itch.

“Huh. And, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” The man jested back, falling quiet as they neared their destination.

Neal rolled his eyes at Peter’s comment, but for lack of energy and realisation that he was about to park the car again, he stayed quiet. Peter told him to stay put, and explained that he wasn’t going in as FBI — Elizabeth had a bunch that the lead thief was one of her colleagues. It was an interesting sounding case, but right now the CI was too focused on holding back a sneeze. And, as soon as Peter had closed his car door and stepped away from it, Neal buried his face into his elbow and inhaled sharply.

‘Hh’sSHhu, k—tch’tcH. Ugh. Shit.’ He sighed, making quick work of blowing his nose into the handkerchief in his pocket, placing it back just in time for Peter to open the door for Elizabeth.

“Honey, I promise, I’m fine — hey, Neal — a little shaken up, I guess, but I feel alright! You worry too much.” Elizabeth huffed a little, waiting for her husband to get in the car beside her. She didn’t sound extremely sick, but Neal could definitely hear the congestion in her voice.

Peter climbed in the car, and leaned across to feel El’s forehead. She didn’t look impressed. “I know, I know. I worry too much! We have to take your statement back at the office, is that okay? I’ll work from home after that.”

Neal’s eyebrows raised a little at that.

“You’re coming too, Neal. You’re not getting out of work that easily.” It was like Peter had read his mind. “We can —“

‘hu’tsh, tch, tshh. . Huh’tcHoo.’

“Bless you,” Peter and Neal rang in sync, whilst the agent continued to rub his wife’s back.

“Sorry,” El apologised softly, pocketing her tissue and leaning back in the seat with a heavy sigh.

“It’s okay, Hon. Neal, I’ll explain everything to you when we get to my place. Let’s get this statement over with so we can all relax.” Peter leaned across to kiss El on the cheek, before starting up the car.

•••

The conference room was dark, with the shutters closed and the lights turned off. It was like a welcoming blanket of calm, and immediately Neal felt the ache in his head dissipate a little. He quietly closed the door, glancing over at El, who was sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone, on low brightness mode.

“Neal,” she greeted softly. “Everything okay?”

“Peter sent me to check on you,” it was only a tiny, white lie. “And, I’d much rather sit in here with you. Peter gets grumpy when he’s worried.” Neal muttered, wandering in and closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth watched him for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Really? No other reason?” She questioned, still watching him.

“No other reasons.” Neal took a seat in one of the spinning chairs by the conference room table, and rubbed his eyes. They were almost as itchy as everything else; his nose itched, his ears felt stuffy as well as itchy. . . He was starting to feel worse, and if anyone was going to figure him out, it was Elizabeth Burke.

“Neal, are you okay? You’ve been acting off since we were in the car.” Elizabeth pressed on, and Neal sighed in semi-defeat.

“If I told you I had a headache, would you stop asking?” Neal muttered, trying not to sound agitated, and somewhat failing.

There was a pause, and El coughed slightly. “No. Does your throat hurt?” She continued, and Neal spun a little in his chair.

“Maybe.”

“Stuffy nose?”

“A little.”

“So, you’re sick. I knew it.” Elizabeth muttered.

“Which means, this is my fault,” she concluded next. “I’m sorry, Neal.”

He shook his head, reaching into his pocket for the silk handkerchief he’d been hiding away. He rubbed at his nose, and sniffled; revealing the oncoming congestion he’d been trying so hard to cover up for the past couple of hours. “It’s not your fault,” Neal finally spoke, pocketing the handkerchief.

“Know anyone else with a summer cold?” El quipped back, and he could imagine the look she was currently giving him.

With a heavy sigh, Neal leaned to rest his head against his arms, on the tabletop in front of him. “Elizabeth B — wait, what’s your middle name?” Neal asked, sitting up again and squinting over at her.

“Why?”

“Just.. humour me, just for a second.”

“It’s Laura.”

Neal inhaled, and stood up. “Elizabeth Laura Burke, why are you so irritatingly observant?” He exhaled, sniffling afterwards.

A laugh fell from her lips at that, which proceeded into a cough covered by a fist. “Marrying an FBI agent might have had something to do with it,” she smiled, patting the space next to her. “Neal George Caffrey, you know it’s alright to let your guard down here, hmm?” El’s voice softened, watching him as he sat.

He shifted slightly, and El could tell that he was uncomfortable. Although, the eventual albeit very quiet “I know,” was comforting. “That’s why I told you so easily.” Neal murmured, leaning back against the couch with a shiver.

“And, because whatever meds you dosed up with this morning are starting to wear off?” Elizabeth teased, gently reaching to feel his forehead. A little warm, but nothing alarming.

“Stop being right.” Neal grumbled, before quickly leaning away and burying his face into the crook of his arm.

‘Hu—ngxT. . . HheisHhhoo—ugh.”

“Bless you,” Elizabeth murmured, rummaging around in her purse for a new packet of tissues, and gently nudging him before offering them out.

Neal practically whined, taking a moment to use one of the tissues, before leaning back against the couch with another little shiver. Elizabeth frowned, about to suggest asking Peter to take them home sooner, when the glass door behind them opened.

“Sorry that took so long,” Peter’s voice announced. “Ready to go?”

The CI’s demeanour was quick to change — he sat up straight, cleared his throat and plastered on a signature Neal Caffrey smile in greeting. “Am I still coming?” He questioned nonchalantly, scrunching his nose and trying his absolute best not to sniffle again.

“Yep,” Peter responded. “We’re working from home today. Which means better coffee and some proper rest for El.” He offered out his hand for his wife, who stood and wandered towards him. She took a glance back at Neal, that was wordlessly saying ‘are you going to tell him, or am I?’ But, the CI simply followed behind them, shaking off whatever discomfort he was currently feeling for now.

Seconds after leaving the comfort of the dark room behind them, both Elizabeth and Neal squinted at the harsh lighting that illuminated the bullpen. Barely seconds later, the pair both paused and comedically in sync sneezes caused Peter to stop in his tracks and turn. “Bless y—whoever just sneezed.” He frowned, watching his wife continue to do so, and Neal turn around to put his back to him.

‘Hhh—ngxXt.’ The CI spun back around, sniffling desperately, and faced with a quizzical look from Peter.

“What, you’re sick too, now?” He questioned, folding his arms.

Neal shook his head. “The lights are too bright, Peter. You should really get someone to — snf — fix that.” He straightened himself up, and glanced sideways at El, who didn’t seem all that pleased with the holdup.

“Right,” Peter muttered, gesturing for the pair to follow him again.

“You wouldn’t understand. Having striking blue eyes isn’t all fun and games,” Neal continued, ignoring the look he got from Elizabeth beside him. He didn’t want to tell Peter he felt lousy, not yet. It was awkward, and he wasn’t used to being so open about vulnerability… besides, he just needed some more meds and he’d be fine to work the case.

On the elevator ride back down, El wrapped her arms around Peter and rested her head against his chest. It was obvious that her meds were wearing off too, although all Neal could do was uncomfortably shift on his feet until they reached the parking garage. He shivered, rubbing his eyes again, and followed Peter and El to the car in silence. Even when sitting in the back, he was uncharacteristically quiet, and at this point Peter wasn’t very convinced that his excuses earlier were true… because, a quiet Neal Caffrey was always something to be suspicious of.

When they got back, El told Neal to wait upstairs and she’d find him something comfortable to wear. Peter waited until the CI was out of earshot, before turning to his wife with a questioning expression. He led her into the living room, bringing her into his arms and waiting a moment before speaking.

“El,” he began. “What’s wrong with Neal?” He figured that if Neal was going to tell anyone, it would probably be El.

His wife faltered, looking up at him with a slightly guilty look. “Why would he tell me?” She replied, resting her head back against Peter’s chest with a congested sigh.

“Because you’re Elizabeth Burke — kind, soft, warm and caring. I can imagine Neal would talk to you, given the right circumstances… you were alone, maybe his guard was down.”

“Well, I kinda guessed. He eventually told the truth.” Elizabeth admitted. “I feel awful about it. I didn’t want to get anyone sick.”

Peter pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Speaking of awful, how are you feeling now?” He asked, leaning back to look at her.

“A little less than awful.”

“But, not great?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “D’you still need me to help with anything in the case?” She asked quietly.

“All I need for you to do is go and change into something comfortable and lie down. We can talk work later, once you’ve rested. I’ll come check on you in a half hour… I guess I should check on Neal too, huh?”

“I’ll check on him before I go to bed. I love you.”

[that-one-queer-poc]

kae oh kae;

one can not compare to the compassionate soul that is kae;

They are so outspoken,

So involved,

But not in a way that many would abhor-

they are so morally correct and kind ,it’s envious truly.

And not only are they are wonderful on the inside;

They’re an absolute angel countenance wise,

It’s as if they were a descendant of Aphrodite herself.

Gorgeous.

there are no immediate faults in Kae

and that’s why they’re so widely loved.

this is very brief and not too detailed but i hope you like it

(this is for the writing thingie)

literally 

hhhhhhhh i am treasuring this forever 

[ag-abreu]

At first glance on Instagram, these shoes didn't catch my eye, but after seeing them in person, I was hooked. Rather than impulsively buying them, I waited to see if the retail price would drop. Sometimes this approach can be risky, but it adds to the thrill of the hunt, especially when the shoes are sold out everywhere. I know nothing beats the excitement of finding them in person. But anyway, After some persistence, I finally added them to my collection. #airmaxuglyduckling #airmax1 #oregon #lab #airmaxmonth #nike #tinkerhatfield #playsons #sobm #airmaxaddict #sneakerhead #hunt #dogsofinstagram #duckhunting https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpfc_-cOoS8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[kungfuslipper]

I did sit there in the car and cry like a baby after reading this. Threw me right back to Shinarcan Bridge.

oh heck, I'm kinda obsessed with Bag Drag...do you have any more excerpts you'd like to share?

i am determined to finish this darn fic before weekend's end. happily, there's not much left to it.

do you ever just ... weep for the non-Mando commandos? the ones with outcast trainers who watched the Dha Werda with a mixture of envy and disgust? the ones who were all "i'm your bro, but not your vod?"

well, hek, I do. here's a drabble, with a special nod to your stuff:

“You seem well, sarge. Always reassuring to know SOBMED is a first-rate facility,” said Bry, in what he hoped was a neutral tone. He knew nothing about Niner except that he was very near pure Mando and had broken his back in Operation Knightfall. Niner shrugged. “Well, you know what the best medicine is.” Ennen joined in. “Fire superiority?” “Great, we’ve got our jokester. But, no. A buddy. Glad you both still have yours.” That seemed like the end of the conversation. A little ominous, if you asked the Galaar lads. Maybe Niner had already sussed out their unique dynamic.

[khaleesiofalicante]

*Reads 'Julian to Magnus' for the latest sobm*

Me: oh dani is going to be annoyed 🤭

me reading the 195 posts calling Julian out:

[minzart]

I I BROKE-

I WANT KI#SES TOO ! WILL I# SOBM. BEAUTIFUL OMG I LOVE HIM SO BAD, I'M DOWN BAD FOR THEM!! LOOK AT THOES LIPS AND THAT SEXY PUSH BACK HAIR AHHHHAHHAAHHH!! THE HAND HOLDING DA FACE AJAJAHHSJSJWK *FALLING IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN) IKE HOLY SHIT I LOVE THEM LOVE THEM WITH MY ENTIRE SOUL @AHHASHHAHAKKSJA THE KIS KISS KISSES SO PASSIONATE I WANT THAT SO BAD WEHEN WHERE CAN A GIRL GET THAT-

[kungfuslipper]

Fi said later that he’d tried to dismember the AZ unit.

EVEN

Special Operations Battalion Medical Center, Federal District, Coruscant, 0230, 385 days after Geonosis

If he’d flailed around like his life depended on it, it was only so he didn’t have to remove his bodysuit. If he’d stuck elbows and boots where they didn’t belong, the tinnie had  had it coming. Nobody touched Sev, and especially not when his favorite arm was hanging off his shoulder like limp bug splatter.

By the time they’d reached SOBMED, the pain was so severe he was holding back bile, jaw clamped shut. It was a good thing, too.

Fi had jabbed a needle in his thigh, twice—and the stinging pinch that usually put him in the mood to kill had barely been noticeable this time. Fi had slid his thumb along his leg to find the spot. That spot where the proprietary cocktail hit his bloodstream and slammed his eyes open again, coiling his muscles and sending warm shudders up under his ribcage. Kill juice—never felt better than when he was flying high with all parts perfectly primed. Until now.

The pain had lessened after a couple of those. Maybe Fi had given him something else, too. Then the awful tug and sshunkk of his shoulder sliding back into place. He'd made a noise to be embarrassed about later. Whatever Fi had done, though, the pain had dulled, enough for him to jog back to the speeder.

598 words

Then it had come crawling back on the way to base, growing claws and fangs. Tissue damage, according to Fi. 6-8 week heal time, if they slapped some bacta onto it. He insisted on taking Sev to SOBMED. Something about a med droid friend who owed him.

And somehow after all that commotion, Sev had ended up trussed to a hoverbed anyway—if it could be called a bed. There was nothing comfortable about it, and now the droid was coming at him with utensils extended.

Hellfire and Wrath of Vau that thing is noooottt touching me, Sev thought, sharply aware of its presence in the painfog of his awareness. And no way was Vau going to find out about this, either.

Too many stims. His head cracked but his eyes pulsed—his stomach was eating itself. Every single heartbeat pumped acid up his throat.

“Wait—hold up. Don’t touch him yet—“ Fi was going on about something. A skipped heartbeat popped under Sev’s clavicle—he hung there in between seconds like a dead fish until his breath came back.

Fi was talking to the droid, a distant murmer now. They moved out of Sev’s field of view. Fi clattered around on the other side of the room, and then the hiss of running water. The almost soothing sound of something filling to its brim. Sev lay there in a haze, his heart and his shoulder thudding, trying to stick his eyes to all the kill points on the tinnie. Then Fi was back, and the two of them—he and the droid, converged over Sev on the hoverbed.

“Put them in there.” Fi’s voice.

A clanking and swishing.

“Longer. Make sure they’re nice and warm.”

Evidently the droid had been allowed to proceed with its exam. It whirred over Sev—he recoiled, but there was nowhere to go.

“I’m just going to examine your shoulder. It will hurt, but try not to move.”

The thing touched him, metallic prods of pain in his flesh. But the things doing the prodding were warm. That made it a little bit better.

Part 1 of Good things happening to Sev for no reason