#Twin Reading Thermometer

[zackprincebooks]

Beloved of the Blood Moons

While the planet of Baal and its twin moons are seemingly lacking in spectacular displays of nature, there is a singular phenomenon, albeit it is a rare occurrence: the Blood Moons. When Baal Prime and Baal Secundus are in perfect alignment, they reflect the sunlight back onto Baal with a red tint from the sand. This turns everything on Baal a red tinge for forty-eight hours. It’s a sacred time for the Blood Angels. They say Sanguinius was buried on Baal during the Blood Moons, and it’s a time for mourning and praying. Work is halted except for extreme emergencies. This year, things get…weird, during the Blood Moons. At least for you. (Sanguinius x Reader, explicit. 2nd person POV; Reader is AFAB but not addressed with any pronouns. Because this is Sanguinius, there is blood drinking involved.)

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As Baal Prime and Baal Secundus move closer together, the sun’s rays align with their planetary surfaces. They become glittering rubies in the sky, projecting the image of their red sands onto the planet of Baal below so everything is bathed in a red tinge for forty-eight blessed hours. 

The Blood Moons are a momentous occasion. Not only is it a beautiful sight to behold, but it is a sacred sight as well. While not as sacred as Sanguinala itself, a Blood Moon had occurred during the burial of The Great Angel.

As the lid of the Golden Sarcophagus closed over Sanguinius, a red haze filled the air. Blood Angels and serfs alike looked up from their despair to marvel, for there could be no greater sign that Sanguinius was with them and always would be. 

From then on, the Blood Moons became a time of rest, worship, and reflection. Work would be cleared weeks in advance so they could dedicate their time to prayer of The Great Angel. They anoint themselves in special oil and lay artifacts and offerings at the Golden Sarcophagus. It is a beautiful time, and for a serf to witness the Blood Moons in their tragically short life is a miracle. 

Unfortunately, your first—and likely only—Blood Moon is spent in quarantine. 

You sniffle loudly and whine, trying to project your disappointment to the Apothecary, Brother Caphriel. He doesn’t lift his head from the computer he’s hunched over. “I understand your frustration, as this is a holy time of your life that will likely not occur again. However, until your temperature returns to 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit, you are under strict quarantine.”

Brother Caphriel reaches over and plucks the thermometer out of your mouth, plugging it into the computer. “Your temperature is still 104.5 degrees Fahrenheit, which is considered a high-grade fever. This will require strict bed rest, elevated consumption of fluids, and strict quarantine," he repeats. Though you cannot see Caphriel’s eyes, you can feel his judgmental stare on your prone, feverish body.

Too weak to protest, you shake your head and whine again, dislodging the wet washcloth from your burning forehead. You spent the last month planning for the Blood Moons; finishing your chores early, creating an outfit to wear, and preparing an offering for the Golden Sarcophagus. When you felt the tingle in the back of your throat, you thought it was just a sign of dehydration. When you began wheezing and sweating at night, you prayed it would clear before the Blood Moons occurred. 

Maybe you hadn’t prayed hard enough.

“I am not any happier than you,” Caphriel sighs, fetching the washcloth. He wrings it out and places it in a laundry basket. “I am also missing the Blood Moons in order to care for you.” Taking a clean washcloth, he submerges it in cold water and wrings it out. “If you rest and take your medication, we will both be out of quarantine faster.” 

Though the cloth brings some relief, your sour expression does not sweeten. No matter how much you rest or how much medication you take, you will not get better in time. 

You flip your pillow to the cool side and close your eyes. Sleep embraces you in its arms, and you fall faster than expected.

---------------------------------

Though you come to consciousness slowly, you do not feel ill or fatigued. You are able to sit up unaided in bed, and when your Apothecary does not berate you, you realize his post has been abandoned. The computer he used to read your temperature is dark, with the thermometer still plugged in. 

You swing your legs out of the bed and shakily stand on your bare feet. The chilled floor of quarantine sends goosebumps up your legs and you wrap your arms around yourself. 

“Hello?” Your voice echoes in the medical bay. “Is anyone there?”

Stony silence greets you. Combined with the ruby haze of the Blood Moons, it feels as though you stepped into an ancient temple untouched for thousands of years—still sacred, still mystical. 

The door to quarantine is wide open. If you wanted, you could leave and bring your offering to the Golden Sarcophagus. You could do it and run back fast enough that you could get back in bed and the Apothecary would never notice. 

You take off running, the sound of your bare feet slapping against the metal floors. It’s not just the medical bay: everywhere in the Arx Angelicum is empty. No one is in the feasting hall, no one is in the armory, and no one is in the serf’s dormitory when you fetch your offering and tuck it into your medical gown. There’s no time to change into your devotional attire, so your cloak wrapped over your medical gown will have to suffice. 

You can only hope The Great Angel will forgive you for your disheveled appearance as you leave the dormitory and make your trek to the Holy Sepulchre. Every now and again, you have to duck behind a corner as you hear a voice or a creaking door nearby, trying to escape the exasperated frown of your Apothecary.

But each time, there is no one. The Arx Angelicum is completely empty, and you appear to be the only soul inside. There aren’t even any signs of habitation, such as abandoned snacks or weapons carelessly leaned against a doorframe. 

At least, until you approach the Holy Sepulchre and the sound of singing and chanting fills your ears. While the Golden Sarcophagus always gives off a glowing golden light, it seems brighter now as it spills down the stairs leading into the Holy Sepulchre. Under the Blood Moons, it has been painted crimson; like a velvet carpet, it invites you to ascend. 

One shaking, footstep at a time, you climb the marble steps. The singing and chanting grow louder until it vibrates your entire body. They praise the Blood Moons and thank The Great Angel for the gift of His presence.

…His presence…

With each step, the Holy Sepulchre is revealed to you: Blood Angels garbed in their ceremonial robes line the entrance, their voices lifted to the vaulted ceiling where incense burners gently sway. The Blood Moons shine through the stained-glass windows depicting The Great Angel’s many victories and splash muted colors on the walls.

Once you have ascended the stairs, you can see the Golden Sarcophagus. You have seen it on previous Sanguinala celebrations, where you gazed at The Great Angel’s visage in His eternal rest. It always occurred to you that He looked…lonely in there, laying in an ocean of red silk. You wanted to climb into His coffin and rest His head on your chest, stroking His hair. Candles throw soft light on the details etched across the lid and sides of Sanguinius’s great battles and victories.

Halfway through your approach, the lid of the coffin moves, for the first time in ten thousand years. You pause, heart in your throat, as you watch the lid shift in place before slowly lifting. It falls away behind the altar on which the Golden Sarcophagus sits, briefly overwhelming the chanting and singing with its clattering and clanging.

Two hands extend from the Golden Sarcophagus to grip it on each side. Before The Great Angel leverages Himself out of His coffin, you’ve already taken a knee and averted your eyes from this sacred vision. The resurrection of Sanguinius is a hope that has sat in the heart of many an Imperial subject; a dream that blesses their slumber every night. You have been blessed with the opportunity to witness it firsthand, and you refuse to squander it.

Deep, rich laughter fills the Holy Sepulchre, silencing the singing of the Blood Angels and drowning out the roaring of blood in your ears. Sanguinius lifts Himself from His coffin and descends the altar, approaching you on bare feet adorned with jingling anklets. His wings rustle overhead, stretching after laying on them for so long. A single, white feather floats into your view, begging you to pick it up.

“Rise, Sweet One. I have need of you.” Sanguinius offers a hand decorated in gold rings and bracelets, beckoning you to His side.

Your throat unsticks enough to speak, “I am…worthy of this, Your Grace?” You reach for Him, but where you are hesitant, Sanguinius is not. His fingers encompass the length of your hand and wrap around the entirety of your arm as he pulls you up. Sanguinius could easily dislocate your arm in one pull, but He is gentle.

He is close enough that you can hear His breathing; a sound no one has heard for ten thousand years. You are at stomach height with Sanguinius and though you don’t dare to lift your head to His face, you can see His chest rise and fall through His gold and red robes.

“I have a gift for You, Your Grace. In honor of the Blood Moons.” Sanguinius makes an inquisitive noise and you reach into your cloak, through your medical gown, to pull out the necklace you made for Him. “It is a modest thing,” you confess weakly as you offer Him the chains of citrine and red tiger eye cabochons; as close as you could get to the rubies and gold of his armor on a serf’s meager salary.

“’Tis a princely gift,” Sanguinius insists, “for you made it with your own two hands, with all the earnestness in your heart. I shall accept it, and I shall do so with gladness.”

And—to your shock and horror—Sanguinius kneels in front of you.

He pays no heed to your stammering protests of unworthiness; you try to avert your eyes but you have no idea of where to look. It would be rude if you did not give The Great Angel your full attention, no matter how undeserving you are of His.

And so, you look.

Sanguinius sits with His hands folded neatly in His lap, waiting patiently as a child waits for their teacher. While the majority of His hair falls loosely around His shoulders, a singular braid encircles His noble brow in place of a crown. The lids of His sapphire eyes are painted with glittering gold, and His cheeks dotted with gold flecks. His nose, eyebrows, and ears have been pierced with gold rings and rubies, and when Sanguinius blinks, gold dust scatters across His cheeks and nose. Even when kneeling, He is eye-level with you.

“Will you please put it on for me?”

Your sweaty hands tussle with the clasp as Sanguinius patiently waits for you. After stopping to wipe your hands on your cloak, you’re able to unclasp it. He leans forward so the tip of his nose brushes yours and the smell of sage incense and sandalwood oil floods your senses.

When you put the necklace around His neck, your hands tuck under His hair. Touching Him feels like a holy act, and you savor the moment as long as you possibly can. Sanguinius indulges you, leaning His head back so your hands are engulfed by His soft, golden locks.

The gesture bumps His chin against your lips and you freeze. Sanguinius looks at you from under hooded eyes and some of His gold flecks shower across your brow like starlight.

“Fear not, my Sweet One. Show me your desire.” The hoarse register of Sanguinius’s voice goes straight between your legs and they squeeze together tightly. This does not go unnoticed by Sanguinius, as His eyes slip from your face to the opening in your cloak. His pupils are dilated so wide, the blues of His irises are nearly eclipsed by black.

You allow your cloak to fall to the ground. Under the eyes of Sanguinius, your rumpled hospital shift feels like a luxurious gown. “You were ill?” He tilts His head to the side, reaching out to pluck the fabric.

“A brief sickness,” you reassure Him, “I am well recovered.” And you find that it is the truth; your chills have subsided, your temperature feels normal, and your appetite has returned. Though the hunger lingering in your lower belly will not be sated by food…

The hand that plucks at your gown turns into a fist, and Sanguinius rips the fabric off your body with little fanfare. It joins your cloak on the ground and you are laid bare before Him, in all your mortality. The heat rolling off His form envelops you and Sanguinius’s eyes follow a bead of sweat trailing down your throat.

“What a luxurious gift,” He murmurs, following the bead of sweat as it continues down your chest. It stops near your nipple and Sanguinius lets out a deep breath that ruffles your hair. “Would you give this to me, as well?”

“I would, Your Grace.” Your voice is barely a breath, but it echoes to the ceiling of the Holy Sepulchre. “I will not deny you anything.”

His wings encircle you as Sanguinius lifts you effortlessly into His arms. He barely needs to exert effort as He carries you to the altar and lays you gently in the Golden Sarcophagus.

“Lord,” you protest, “I cannot! This is a holy place!”

“It makes for a most comfortable bed,” Sanguinius counters with ease, “for I have lain here for nights uncountable and had naught but the sweetest dreams.” And you cannot gainsay him when the silk cushions you and your skin is tickled by His discarded feathers. “You look lovely against the red silk.” As the Golden Sarcophagus needed to house Sanguinius comfortably, you can lay in it as though it was a bed.

“I once thought you looked lonely, laying here,” you confess as Sanguinius climbs in with you, “and I wished to lay alongside you, to comfort you during your long sleep.”

“Such kindness,” Sanguinius muses, kneeling on top of you. Your eyes are laser-focused on His fingers as they untie the knot of His robe; once Sanguinius realizes this, He slowly pulls the ties apart.

Sanguinius is a treasure. Inch by inch, His golden skin is revealed to you, glistening with oil under the light of the candles melting on the altar. His nipples, pink and pearly, are pierced with rings linked by a golden chain with rubies hanging from it. It’s so beautiful, it only makes you feel more self-conscious about your modest gift.

He is almost shy when the robe parts on His thighs, revealing His cock to you. As expected of a Primarch, Sanguinius is generously endowed, though longer than he is thicker. His pubic hair is well trimmed, and a darker color than His flowing locks. The veins along His shaft pulse enticingly, though the most mouthwatering part about Him is the gold ring pierced atop His cockhead.

“Would you like to touch it? I promise it’s not as frightful as it looks.” As though to demonstrate, Sanguinius grasps His cock and strokes it. Your eyes are fixated on the way that it bobs and twitches under His touch, and the shuddering groan that passes His lips is sweeter music than the chanting Blood Angels.

Emboldened by His noises, you reach out for His cock. Your fingers brush over His as Sanguinius moves His hand, and your fingers close around His cock. Sanguinius is oiled here too, and your strokes are smooth as you pump up and down. It’s warmer than you expected, and when you squeeze, a droplet of precum appears on the head.

“Have you touched another in this manner?” His voice comes out breathlessly, bucking His hips into your hand. You duck your head and bite your lip, but Sanguinius lifts your chin with two fingers. “Please, do not hide from me. I merely wish to understand.”

“A couple of times,” you admit, “but more than not, it is often my own hand.”

“Have you imagined me thusly?”

Your hand stutters in its stroking. Some of the statuary and tapestries in the halls of the Arx Angelicum of Sanguinius striking down the forces of chaos inspired your hot and heavy dreams later that night. “On the odd occasion,” you confess, resuming your strokes. He does not inquire further, but His throaty chuckling is a bolt of heat down your spine.

“Would you like to do more than merely touch? There is a myriad of things I would like to show you.” Sanguinius runs His palms up and down His thighs as He watches you, his eyes drawn to the quiver of your throat.

“Please show me,” you beg of Him, and Sanguinius gently disengages from your hand to lay down on top of you, supported by his elbows. When you’re so close to Him, you resist the urge to close your eyes as His breath cascades across your cheeks.

His lips are soft against your chapped and bitten ones, and His tongue swipes the space between to wet the kiss. Soft, slick sounds fill your ears, which burn red with arousal. Sanguinius is not quiet as He kisses you, humming against your lips as He pushes His tongue inside your mouth.

Sanguinius tastes like fresh figs and plums; sweet but with an earthy undercurrent. He kisses you gently at first, letting His tongue toy with yours in your mouth. When you try to push your tongue into His mouth to give Him the same treatment, Sanguinius presses against you almost aggressively, your wrists caught in His hands.

He finally deigns to pull away from you, a string of saliva stretching between your lips. “Please, allow me to take the lead in this. When you inflame me so passionately, I may lose control.” His lips are red and swollen, but beneath His upper lip is a glint that makes your heart stop.

“I understand,” you whisper softly, “though if you feel overtaken by your hunger, please grant me the honor of your bite, my Lord.”

You cannot stop your eyes widening when Sanguinius licks His lips and one of His fangs is exposed. It’s a sharp weapon, ready to plunge into your skin at the slightest provocation. Sanguinius must have powerful self-control indeed to reign in his Red Thirst during the throes of passion.

“You are the one who honors me.” He ducks His head to nose against your throat. Sanguinius runs the tips of His fangs along your jugular, scraping your heated skin and delighting in the shiver that runs through your body. But Sanguinius toys with you, continuing to tease you with the tips of His fangs against your neck. When He presses just a little harder against your jugular, your entire body seizes.

“I can feel your heart beating through my fangs,” He murmurs against your skin. Sanguinius licks the red marks He left behind before moving down your body. Where Sanguinius kisses you, warmth floods that spot even after He has moved on. It seems that Sanguinius is particularly fond of your nipples, as He swirls his tongue around the pink bud and applies pressure with His lips.

Or perhaps it is your reaction, as you cry out in pleasure and immediately fist your hands in His golden hair, loosening the braid encircling His brow. To ensure that your other nipple doesn’t go neglected, Sanguinius slides His hand over to twist and pinch it, playing the instrument of your body so your voice soars to the vaulted ceiling of the Holy Sepulchre.

Sanguinius is polite enough to let you come down from your ecstasy before moving on, though this is not the height of your pleasure. You watch with your heart in your throat as Sanguinius moves down your body, peppering kisses across your hips and belly in preparation for feasting on His prize.

His thorough affection for you has gone straight to your pussy, and by the time Sanguinius settles between your legs, you are wet and your clit throbs with need. “What a delicious meal,” Sanguinius murmurs. He slides one of your legs over His shoulders, nuzzling the interior of your thigh.

“I will not bite you here,” Sanguinius promises as His fingers spread your pussy lips. You are caught, unable to look away as Sanguinius blesses your swollen clit with a kiss but overwhelmed and wanting to look away.

Blissfully unaware of your internal struggle, Sanguinius keeps one hand on your thigh while His other hand slides up and down your pussy lips, gathering wetness until He can slip a finger inside of you. The hum that passes His lips vibrates your clit and your walls flutter around His finger.

It’s just His finger, but the enormity of His size means that even a Primarch’s finger inside of a baseline is stretching you deliciously. While He lavishes your clit with kisses and licks, Sanguinius slowly pumps his finger in and out of your pussy. His blue eyes are hooded by His golden lids, but you are pinned under Sanguinius’s gaze just as much as His strength.

The hand that holds your leg open begins rubbing the soft skin of your inner thigh. Sanguinius puts pressure on your femoral vein and holds it there, letting it throb against the pad of His thumb.

A second finger is added to your pussy and you whine, pulling harder on Sanguinius’s hair. His braid comes completely undone so His hair falls around His face and tickles your thighs. “Oh, o-oh, I’m so s-sorry,” you whimper, trying to push His hair behind His ears. Your fingers brush the shell of His ears, feeling the chains linking each earring.

“Hmmm?” Sanguinius chuckles, sending vibrations up your body through your clit. His eyebrows bounce into His hairline but doesn’t stop His attention on your clit. Once you settle around His fingers, Sanguinius resumes pumping his fingers in and out of you. They curl up into your pussy and stroke your sweet spot, making your toes curl and your mouth drop open, though no sound comes out.

Sanguinius finally lets off your clit with a soft, wet popping noise, but His fingers continue stroking you inside. “That’s it, give yourself over to me. Do not hide your pleasure from me.” His words of encouragement dance on your ears, distracting you as Sanguinius moves from your pussy to where your thigh is slung over His shoulder. Keeping His thumb on your femoral artery, Sanguinius runs His tongue along your inner thigh until He stops and sucks on the spot to make it tender.

You know what He’s going to do before He does it, but Sanguinius curls His fingers inside your pussy again to stroke your nerves. As pleasure bolts up your spine and white stars explode in your vision, Sanguinius sinks His fangs into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Any pain you would feel is lost underneath the waves of your orgasm. By the time you come down from it, the pain has faded and His fangs in your thigh feels…almost sensual.

It's hard not to, especially when Sanguinius wears a look of sheer bliss on His face. When you stroke His hair, a rumbling noise escapes Him almost like a purr.

“Drink to your satisfaction, Your Grace,” you whisper tremulously. His eyes have slipped closed as He drinks deep of your blood, the sound of His swallowing making a nest for itself in your brain forever. When you tilt your head back slightly, you are treated to the sight of Sanguinius’s neck bulging slightly as He drinks your blood.

You’re not sure how long He drinks; it could be anywhere from a few seconds to multiple days. But with a long, guttural groan, Sanguinius pulls off your thigh and cleans the bite wound with his tongue.

“I was right to call you my Sweet One,” He coos, “though I cannot tell if your blood is sweeter than your cunt.” Your blood decorates His mouth in a ring of shining crimson and when He licks it off, your eyes follow His tongue.

His arms wrap around you and pull you towards Him, so His cock slaps against your belly. Your legs can barely wrap around His waist, thighs straining with the effort. But it is worth it for Sanguinius to dip his head and nuzzle your forehead.

“I can no longer wait,” He warns you, using one hand to guide the head of His cock inside of you. It splits your pussy lips and the piercing rubs your clit. Sanguinius rubs Himself on your open core, wetting His cock with your juices while getting you wet with His precum. Only when you are both glistening does Sanguinius begin feeding His cock into your pussy.

It’s a tight fit. Your hands fist into the red silk and your eyes squeeze shut, your head hammering with overstimulation. Sanguinius’s wings flutter, sending more feathers drifting into the sarcophagus to brush against your bare skin and make you whimper.

“Do you think you can take all of it?” The rasp in His voice makes your pussy clench around Him, and Sanguinius moans.

“I want to take all of it,” you whisper, and grit your teeth as Sanguinius pushes the rest of His cock inside of you. The piercing on His cockhead rubs against your inner walls before it comes to rest at the entrance of your womb.

“And so, you have.” Sanguinius takes hold of your wrists again, holding you in place. You are helpless under His strength as He begins to move out of you, slowly at first until His glans brush the lips of your entrance—

—Before Sanguinius slams back inside of you, rocking the Golden Sarcophagus back and forth on the altar and knocking a few candles onto the floor, where they harmlessly sputter and die.

Your mouth opens to scream, only to have the breath punched out of you by another merciless thrust. Sanguinius closes His mouth over yours, forcing His tongue into your mouth. You taste your blood on His tongue, and Sanguinius scrapes your lips with His fangs when He pulls away.

“I will not apologize for my rudeness,” He groans, “not when I have been waiting for ten thousand years! I will have what I want, even if I must take it.”

“Take…every-thing…f-from me,” you wheeze, and His growl sends ripples through your body. Sanguinius does not slow down his punishing pace, continuing to rock the sarcophagus hard enough that you are afraid of falling out. His cockhead slams into your womb, opening you up with His piercing in preparation to receive His seed.

You barely feel your second orgasm; you’re only aware of it when Sanguinius’s thrusts suddenly become wetter and louder. Your body has become a vessel for His pleasure, and His alone.

It is the highest honor He could have bestowed upon you.

Or at least, one of them. Sanguinius gathers your wrists under one hand with ease, while His other hand grips your head and forcibly turns it to expose your bare neck to him. “I am yet thirsty,” Sanguinius moans, no longer hiding His fangs behind His lips. He is forced to slow His thrusts as He bends over your body, but Sanguinius compensates by grinding into your cunt so His piercing rubs on your womb and His pelvis rubs your swollen clit.

The overstimulation sends you into a smaller orgasm right as Sanguinius sinks His fangs into your neck. Blood flows from your neck and pools under your hair, staining the silk underneath you. It’s hard to tell which act Sanguinius derives more pleasure from: drinking your blood, or filling your womb with His cock.

Black spots fill your gaze. The last thing you see before you faint from blood loss is Sanguinius hunched over you, lips stained with your blood.

“Oh, my Sweet One…we have only just begun.”

------------------------------------

Your mind and body float through space, cradled in Sanguinius’s arms. At some point He stops pummeling you and lets you rest, though you’re not sure when or why. You’re not sure if He finished, and when you raise your head to ask—

He is gone. Instead, the sterile wall of quarantine greets you, and you blink to clear your vision. Given the deep crimson color, the Blood Moons have not yet reached their apex.

For some reason, your arms are above your head and your blankets have been kicked down your bed.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Brother Caphriel leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. His helmet sits on the floor beside his computer, revealing his mane of white hair.

“You had an active night for someone with a fever, however…” Popping a sanitized cap onto the thermometer, he puts it into your mouth. After it beeps again, he plugs it into the computer.

“Your fever broke last night, so it seems your fervent praying to The Great Angel was successful.” His eyes cut over to you and you throw the blanket over your head to hide your pink cheeks from his knowing gaze.

[flowerchild28]

Louis Tomlinson x reader when they have twin daughters around 8 and they both have a stomach bug

Sure thing, love! Here's your story—hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Let me know what you think :)

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: none, fluff

0.6k

Two Sick Beans

The house was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning, the typical laughter and chatter replaced by the soft hum of the heater. You sat at the kitchen counter nursing a lukewarm cup of tea, glancing nervously down the hall.

It had started the night before when your twin daughters, Ellie and Maisie, both complained of stomachaches. By the time midnight rolled around, the stomach bug had made itself fully known, leaving both girls pale, exhausted, and clinging to you and Louis for comfort.

“Morning, love.” Louis’ groggy voice broke the silence as he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. His hair stuck out in every direction, and his hoodie hung loose over his pajamas.

“Morning,” you said softly, your voice tinged with concern. “How’d they sleep?”

Louis poured himself a cup of coffee, shaking his head. “Not great. Ellie woke up twice, and Maisie… well, let’s just say the washing machine’s getting a workout.”

You sighed, placing your head in your hands. “Poor things.”

As if on cue, Ellie’s small voice called out from the living room. “Muuuuum? Daddy?”

“I’ll go,” Louis said quickly, placing his coffee down and disappearing down the hall.

When he returned, he was carrying Ellie, her arms draped around his neck and her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “She’s burning up,” he said quietly, concern evident in his tone.

You reached out, placing the back of your hand on her forehead. “Sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

Ellie whimpered, barely lifting her head. “My tummy hurts.”

Louis sat down with her on the couch, tucking a blanket around her. “We’ll get you feeling better, love.”

Maisie soon joined, shuffling in with her own blanket and curling up beside her sister. Her face was just as pale, her usual energy replaced by a quiet lethargy that tugged at your heart.

Louis sat between them, stroking Maisie’s hair as you brought over a tray with crackers, water, and a thermometer. “We’ve got a whole sick station set up now,” Louis said with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Dad jokes aren’t going to fix this,” Maisie murmured weakly, making both you and Louis chuckle softly.

The day wore on in a blur of thermometer readings, soothing words, and episodes of their favorite cartoon to keep them distracted. Louis, ever the hands-on dad, was a rock of support, carrying Ellie to the bathroom when needed and coaxing Maisie to sip small amounts of water.

By mid-afternoon, both girls were dozing on the couch, tucked under the softest blankets you owned. You sat on the floor beside them, your hand resting on Ellie’s arm while Louis sat cross-legged nearby, scrolling through his phone for more tips on helping kids with stomach bugs.

“They’re troopers,” he said quietly, glancing at their peaceful faces. “Definitely got that from you.”

You smiled faintly, nudging his knee. “Pretty sure they got it from you. You’re the stubborn one.”

Louis chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “Maybe a bit of both.”

As the evening rolled around, Ellie stirred, her big blue eyes peeking open. “Mummy?” she whispered hoarsely.

“I’m here, baby,” you said, brushing her hair back gently.

“Will I feel better tomorrow?” she asked, her voice tinged with hope.

“You’ll feel better soon, sweetheart,” you said, kissing her forehead. “Daddy and I will make sure of it.”

Louis leaned over, whispering conspiratorially, “And once you’re better, we’ll have a family pancake breakfast. Extra chocolate chips.”

Ellie managed a small smile, and Maisie mumbled, “Only if we get sprinkles too.”

“Sprinkles, chocolate chips, and whatever else you want,” Louis said with a grin, pressing a kiss to Maisie’s head.

“I know,” Louis said, pulling you into his side. “But we’ve got this. Team Tomlinson, yeah?”

Later, as you and Louis finally collapsed onto the couch after putting the girls to bed, you let out a long sigh. “I hate seeing them like that.”

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “Team Tomlinson.”

And as the quiet settled over the house again, you knew that with Louis by your side, you could tackle anything—even two sick little beans.

OMG thank ypu for 1000 likes guys. Might not seems like much but it's for me. :))))

[polinka22malinka]

I just want to say, "I'm alive!" After a three-day temperature marathon with one of the twins. I'll admit, the 40s on the thermometer were a bit scary.

I seemed to get lost in the days and nights, alternating between medicines and other things to do.

As they say, what is "trouble" for one is "good" for the other, and the second twin enjoyed mum's separate attention on our rare walks. And the eldest son was given almost unlimited access to the internet in his spare time. Not ideal motherhood 🩷

Today I left the house alone for the first time, for an hour. Answered all my messages, bought a coffee at the coffee shop nearby.

Yes, I tried to read at nights, but Dostoyevsky has always been difficult for me.

I tried to write a chapter, and I'm getting better at it, but it was not without struggling.

Anyway, with humour, juggling medicines, I'm at this point now and waiting to see who gets sick next 🥲

[trivialbob]

Well, well. I didn't believe the forecasts.

Yesterday morning my outdoor thermometer read 41°F. Yet throughout the day my phone buzzed with weather and commuter travel alerts.

It would have to get colder for snow to accumulate. The child-like excitement that usually washes over me when I anticipate a big snowfall didn't happen. I also lacked the Minnesota instinct to hurry to the grocery store and stock up on bread, rice, and milk.

Wearing my comfortable wool slippers and a favorite sweatshirt, I stood at the window, sipped some fresh, hot coffee, and thought--they've gotten this wrong before. Ten hours later I watched heavy flakes falling and not melting.

We have had an unusually warm and snowless winter here in the Twin Cities. Two inches or so fell back in December. The day it happened I grabbed a shovel and cleared the driveway. All the snow melted soon enough anyway, but that shovel looked sad hanging on the garage wall. "Put me in, coach!"

A few folks were out riding motorcycles in January. Temps nearly reached 60°F a few times. Naturally there were some guys who wore shorts outside so they didn't suffer heat exhaustion.

We also saw -11°F in January. People who leave snarky comments on newspaper articles claimed an extreme (or even "nearly a record!") temperature as proof that their climate religion is the correct one. The rest of you heretics should boil/freeze to death.

Weather experts claim March is actually the snowiest month in this state. Next week's forecast says highs in the upper 20s and sunshine, so this snow coverage may be around for a while this month.

Now I'm going to sip some hot coffee, take another look outside, and be thankful I didn't leave a snarky comment on a news article that reported it would snow last night.

[quietwings-fics]

To Break a Fever

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Gen (Gabriel & Lucifer & Michael & Raphael) Additional Tags: She/Her Pronouns for Gabriel (Supernatural), Sick Lucifer (Supernatural), Sick Gabriel (Supernatural), Sickfic, Healer Raphael (Supernatural), Depowered Gabriel (Supernatural), Depowered Lucifer (Supernatural), Depowered Raphael (Supernatural), Alternate Universe, Vomiting, Fever, Gabriel and Raphael are Twins (Supernatural) Wordcount: 4148 Summary:

Lucifer is sick, and Gabriel is so wrapped up in that that she doesn't see the fever creeping up on her until it's too late. It's a good thing Raphael knows what they're doing, even without grace to take care of their siblings.

Notes:

For day 2's prompt: thermometer

Lucifer always takes a while to show up in the mornings. There hasn’t yet been a morning he doesn’t show his face, even if it’s only for a few minutes that end with whatever new fight with Michael he can pick and him stalking off to cool down again. There’s a sort of rhythm here that Gabriel’s tentatively falling into. She wakes up, usually from Fen trying to sit on her head, and goes to eat breakfast. Detours halfway there to the bathroom because she gets bodily signals loud and clear, a rarity in the apartment and really annoying when they clash between hungry-eat something-eat a bagel-eat twenty bagels and hey, it’s me, your bladder, and if you don’t go piss right now, I’m making it everyone’s problem.

And once that’s taken care of, she’ll always find Raphael already awake. Their eyes track her the minute she steps into the room. Sometimes Michael’s also there, which means he didn’t actually sleep that night, and sometimes he’s not, which means Gabriel can glance over and see him passed out on the couch, sleeping like he read how to in a manual. Fen needs feeding before Gabriel does, no matter how much her stomach is growling.

(“Why do you even keep a dog?” Michael asked, in that tone he used when he was trying to hide how judgmental he was being. But not trying that hard.

“I’m a good mom,” Gabriel snapped. Michael just blinked at him and didn’t ask any more questions.)

And then it’s a waiting game as Gabriel makes breakfast, and Raphael doesn’t eat it, and Michael either snoozes on or paces around the kitchen with nothing to do. It doesn’t matter how much he stares at the utensils cabinet, Gabriel is not letting him spend a day reorganizing the kitchen. Everything, or what little there is, is right where Gabriel wants it.

Lucifer’s record for not coming up is about two hours and seventeen minutes. Not that Gabriel is counting.

It’s been three. The sun is well over the horizon. Gabriel might have had too much coffee. Her fingers are all jittery over this week’s bills, and for once, it isn’t because they might not be able to pay them. (Most of Gabriel’s money is... not gone. It’s definitely still floating around out there, locked up tight, but she can’t get at it. She got access to one or two accounts, plus what Lucifer could pull with some vessel identity fraud. Michael couldn’t do much on that front, and Raphael... Whatever they could have contributed was all tangled up in the account their vessel shared with her husband, and it had been unanimously agreed that they not touch that situation.

Someone out there is waiting for Raphael- for the face Raphael wears to come home.

Yeah. Not with a ten-foot pole.)

Gabriel glances over at the key bowl. The minivan key is laying there, easily picked out from the rest because of the metal yellow smiley face attached to it. A little keepsake from the 70s, older than the minivan it now heralded but not the bowl it lived in. If it’s there, Lucifer can’t have gone anywhere. The van is unlocked for him to sleep in, but he doesn’t know how to hotwire a car. He didn’t even know how to load a dishwasher.

Gabriel looks back at Michael and Raphael. Neither of them are making any move to go find out what the hold up is. They don’t even look worried that Lucifer isn’t here.

There’s a very cruel part of Gabriel that goes of course they don’t. They’re used to it.

They wouldn’t notice if you took off either.

It’s a lie and an obvious one. Raphael’s first panic attack happened after Gabriel went to the grocery store without leaving a note. Gabriel presses her fingers into where Raphael had bruised her arm by holding on too tight. The ache is gone. She misses it, not for the pain, but the easy reminder. Maybe it doesn’t occur to Raphael and Michael the way it does Gabriel. That Lucifer can leave. For centuries, they’ve all known exactly where he was, even if he was out of reach. Locked up in his tower, singing to the demons that pass by, until Sam Winchester called out for Lucifer to let down his hair. (Or threw his own up? It was long enough.) Lucifer’s got both feet on the ground now, and boots made for walking, and why the hell does he stick around?

It’s not even his apartment. Which is the only reason Gabriel stays.

She rubs the unbruised spot on her arm. “I’m going to go fetch Lucifer,” she announces.

Gabriel throws on a shirt and pants. She’s 80% sure they’re both hers. She takes the stairs. The elevator might be mandated by law, but apparently its care and keeping isn’t as strongly regulated. On a good day, six floors up and down isn’t a problem (and Gabriel doesn’t think about bad days. If she can’t see them, they can’t see her.) There’s no one around, but she’d slide down the banister the last few flights even if there was. Her butt stings from a bump in the rail. The brief rush is worth it. The parking under the building is dark and damp, all enclosed in rusted bars that the daylight hardly peeks through and stone. Gabriel shivers when she steps out. Her foot goes right into a puddle left from last night’s rainstorm, and she jumps.

“Fuck!” That makes her feel better. Shoes! She forgot about shoes again. She doesn’t want to go all the way back up to get them. She pays more attention to where she’s walking instead, sidestepping puddles and loose rocks and weird stains on the floor, leaving one wet footprint in the wake of her stride. Thankfully, the minivan is parked close to the stairs. She braces herself, grabs the backdoor, and yanks it up, stepping out of the way so that the right corner of the car is between her and Lucifer. “Rise and shine, Luci!” She’s expecting a snarl and at least one arm or leg flailing out at her. Instead, Lucifer grunts and tugs his blanket further around himself.

“Go away,” he says into one of his... four pillows, now. One of those is probably the one Michael said had gone missing.

“It’s a beautiful day, and you’re going to waste it sleeping in?” Above them, the sky grumbles its disagreement and reminds them all that it can always shit out another few gallons on their roofs. Lucifer makes a very similar noise as he tries to curl away from Gabriel. Gabriel yanks on his blanket. It shouldn’t give. It does. Gabriel drops it in surprise, and it flutters to the ground and gets wet. She grimaces. Lucifer lets out a heavy, frustrated breath, but he doesn’t do anything. “Seriously, get up,” Gabriel says. “What’s wrong with you?”

Lucifer rolls over and glares blearily at the ceiling of the minivan. He looks like shit.

“I’m dying,” he says.

Gabriel’s heart stops for a moment. Then, she leans over and puts her palm against his forehead.

“You have a fever,” she tells him. Lucifer nods.

“I’m dying.”

“Shut up.” She needs him to stop saying that. Even if he’s just being dramatic, there’s a uncomfortable twist in her gut. She grabs him to haul him up, and Lucifer makes his first attempt at resistance. He pushes back against Gabriel, weakly, with hands that are far too warm wherever they settle on Gabriel’s skin. He’s exactly as heavy as he looks, but Gabriel can match that with stubbornness. She gets Lucifer on his feet, both of them stepping on the blanket resting in the dirty water, making it worse. “Hang on.” Gabriel makes sure he’s mostly steady and turns to close the backdoor of the minivan, vowing to come back for their stolen pillows later. As the door clicks closed, Lucifer makes an awful sound, and before Gabriel can fully turn around, he doubles over and starts retching.

This blanket isn’t going to be salvageable.

When Lucifer’s finished throwing up, (and Gabriel’s finished running her hand up and down his back, muttering, "Okay, fuck, you’re fine, you’re gonna be fine," without thinking about it) she pulls him back up. He’s leaning even more weight on her. Gabriel helps him across empty parking spaces to where the elevator is and hopes it’s at least functional today. She hits the button — It doesn’t light up, so she has no idea if the elevator is actually coming. — and waits. Lucifer doesn’t throw up again, if he has anything left in him. Did he eat dinner last night? Gabriel can’t remember.

The elevator comes. For one brief moment, Gabriel considers thanking their Father for that small mercy before Lucifer wobbles and nearly falls over and the urge disappears completely. Mercy would be Lucifer not having an immune system to compromise. Mercy would be Gabriel not having to worry about him, not like this. Fuck thanking Him for an elevator, especially one that doesn’t work on days when Gabriel’s bones all feel misaligned and her skin doesn’t fit right.

They stand side by side as the elevator rattles up the six floors towards their apartment. Lucifer can lean back against the wall rather than against Gabriel, tilting his head to the side to press his temple to cool glass. The walls of the elevator are mirrored on both sides, which Gabriel has heard other residents complain about for making them nauseous. She likes it. It makes the enclosed space seem expansive. Lucifer would appreciate it, too, if he wasn’t about to pass out.

“Just a little further,” Gabriel says, and she’s not sure which of them she’s reassuring. Lucifer manages it, barely.

“Welcome-” Raphael’s voice calls, distracted, but sharp with attention when they see Gabriel dragging Lucifer through the door. “What happened?”

“He’s sick. It’s not serious.” Lucifer does everything he can to prove Gabriel wrong by nearly falling over. “Shit!” Gabriel balances him at the last second. Lucifer’s eyes blink open, unfocused. Raphael stands, but they don’t move, only watching as Gabriel walks Lucifer over to the couch and drops him. Lucifer whimpers. It’s a horrible sound that Gabriel feels wrong hearing. She turns her head. Raphael is digging out the first aid kit. “Raphael, he’s being dramatic. He’ll be back on his feet tomorrow. It’s a cold.” Raphael does not believe her, carefully digging out supplies and laying them across the kitchen counter. Gabriel rolls her eyes. She can hear them filling something with water as she turns back to their brother.

Lucifer’s going to be fine. He rolls over and tries to hide his eyes from the lights, burying his face into the couch cushions. Gabriel’s stomach feels twisted up, and she jumps when Fen comes padding over and presses his cold nose to her leg. Lucifer flinches when Fen barks. Gabriel leans down and scoops him up, earning herself half a dozen doggy kisses.

“Move,” Raphael tells her brusquely. Gabriel does without thinking. Thousands of years, and she still knows when Raphael’s tone means life or death.

They’re overreacting, too. Lucifer’s-

Lucifer is easily rolled over onto his back again. He covers his eyes.

“What are-” Gabriel hears Michael’s voice from behind him, and she glances back over her shoulder.

“Hit the switch,” she says. Michael frowns, but he does. The window near the couch keeps the room lit, but Lucifer seems to relax. Raphael rests their hand over his forehead where Gabriel had earlier.

“Open your mouth,” they order Lucifer. Lucifer blinks at them and doesn’t. Undeterred, Raphael opens it for him, pinching his lips apart and pushing the tip of the thermometer in. They wiggle it under his tongue, made more difficult by Lucifer grimacing at the taste of the metallic tip and trying to push it away. Raphael slides their hand down to his jaw and holds his mouth closed, eyes fixed on the thermometer. Gabriel lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as the number stops on 100.1 degrees.

“I told you, he’s being dramatic. That’s barely a fever.” Michael steps up behind Raphael, his hand folding over their shoulder as he peers down at Lucifer. Raphael pulls the thermometer from his mouth, thumb gently petting along his jaw before they stop touching him.

“I’m dying,” Lucifer mumbles, again. Michael’s alarmed expression is only soothed by Raphael shaking their head.

“He’s not in any danger.” Raphael lifts another component from the kit, something wrapped in a towel. They lay it across Lucifer’s forehead. He exhales in relief. They try to feed him a pill next, but he refuses it, stubbornly turning his head and clutching the cold compress against himself. Raphael gets even more frustrated when he won’t drink anything they offer him either. Fen has leapt up onto the couch, sensing that Lucifer is too weak to shove him off and cuddling against his legs. His tail wags weakly, clearly able to read the tension in the room as Lucifer turns away from the offered cold water a third time.

“Try it later,” Gabriel suggests. Raphael has this handled, as they always have, but she can’t bring herself to leave Lucifer alone.

“He needs fluids now,” Raphael snaps. There was a time once when no one, not even Lucifer, would have fought them when they were trying to heal. They aren’t used to resistant patients. Angels aren’t made that way. Humans, on the other hand, only seem able to make their situations worse.

“Raphael,” Michael says. Gabriel sees him squeeze Raphael’s shoulders. Their face screws up stubbornly before breaking. “It’s alright. He’ll-”

“Michael?” Lucifer interrupts.

He stares up at their oldest brother. Neither Gabriel or Raphael plan it, but the moment Lucifer looks to Michael, they do as well. Gabriel forces herself to look away first. Michael moves to kneel down beside Raphael instead of hovering over them and Lucifer. Lucifer squirms to the edge of the couch to be closer to him. Michael touches his cheek, fingers pulling back momentarily like he’s surprised by the heat before he lets them rest there. Gabriel’s cheek tingles and rubs her thumb against it roughly so that it’ll stop. “Raphael,” Michael whispers, “let me see the bottle.” Raphael hands it over, fists falling into their lap. “Sit up, Lucifer.” Michael’s voice has softened into one Gabriel hasn’t heard him use for Lucifer once in their whole stay in her apartment. Lucifer whines protest, but Michael insists, “up, little brother,” and Lucifer finally drinks when it’s Michael holding the lip of the bottle to his mouth.

Raphael has to leave the room. Gabriel watches them go, sighs, and goes to make lunch. It’s something she’s able to do, and eventually, the sound of her making dough lures Raphael back out to help. They fall into their clumsy still-learning rhythm, both of them ignoring what’s happening by the couch.

Gabriel takes something for the headache that develops as she sits in front of the oven and waits for the timer to ring, the dough rising for the second time on the stovetop above. Raphael washes their hands thoroughly. Michael comes to fill the water bottle back up. “He’s asleep,” Michael says. His voice is so quiet it makes Gabriel want to bang the oven door as loud as she can to wake Lucifer back up. Only that would probably make her own headache worse. She rubs her ankle as it aches. Damn bones. Damn her for getting lazy enough with making this vessel that she couldn’t spend a few extra minutes making sure all of it fit together right. All she did was take a tibia from one guy and a try to line it up with tarsals from a girl a century earlier. It wasn’t supposed to hurt, wouldn’t if she still had her grace. At least everything holds together. Some parts dislocate easier than they should, but she hasn’t had to pop anything back into place for the past few weeks at least.

The timer rings, and she heaves herself to her feet. At least she can still make flatbread. Small luxuries. Raphael pokes at the one they’re handed, breaking off a small piece before the look Gabriel is giving them makes them take a bite. Bigger luxuries come in seeing Raphael’s eyes light up when they find food they can enjoy. Gabriel packs at least quarter of the flatbread into a container and puts it in a cupboard. Definitely not for Lucifer. She’s storing it for someone who isn’t sick. If he happens to get better and eat it, then that’s just a coincidence.

She glances over at her brother. Fen is watching him closely. Good boy.

Lucifer sleeps for most of the day, intermittently woken by Michael to drink more water or by Raphael when they take his temperature. Gabriel takes another pill before the day’s over, her head aching as she watches Michael bring up the pillows from the van she told him about. He props Lucifer up on one, and Lucifer murmurs something in response tiredly. It has the shape of Enochian, but what Lucifer says is incomprehensible through the haze of his own exhaustion, the limitations of human vocal cords, and his loose grasp on his own language. (They don’t speak in Enochian often, mostly to avoid straining their throats, but when they do, sometimes Lucifer gets completely lost, unable to follow what should be basic conversation, and when he speaks back, it never comes out right.)

“Michael is going to sleep on the floor if it’s his choice,” Raphael says. Gabriel hadn’t heard them sidle up next to her. She jolts hard, and it makes her chest and shoulders hurt.

“Then let him?” Gabriel says. She doesn’t see how it’s their problem if Michael wants to suffer. He’s tucking a blanket around Lucifer. Gabriel’s hand curls into a fist, and she waves it out. She can see Raphael watching her from the corner of her eye, and they’re easier to look at than Michael.

“We have a spare bed,” Raphael says.

“You have a spare bed,” Gabriel corrects, though calling the air mattress a bed is a stretch. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” Raphael narrows their eyes, and Gabriel almost says, I’m older, I have to look out for you. She thinks better of it. It’s not really true, anyway. She just likes to imagine it is, sometimes. (And other times, selfishly, she wants Raphael to be older.)

“I’m trying to ask if I can sleep in your bed.” Gabriel’s mouth drops open a little. She shuts it quickly, licks her dry lips, and answers,

“Of course you can,” before she can talk herself out of it. Raphael looks a little surprised themself.

More difficult is convincing Michael to take the air mattress. He protests about taking Raphael’s space, but Lucifer isn’t moving from the couch and Gabriel’s pretty sure none of them would let him go back down to the van even if he could. In the end, they leave him in the other room, snoring off his fever, and the three of them try to make their nightly routines fit around each other when there’s even less space. Gabriel doesn’t do most of hers. Between finally passing out in bed and brushing her teeth, sleep wins by a landslide. She’s out before Raphael even has time to crawl under the covers with her.

Raphael is definitely there when Gabriel wakes up. She knows that because of the metal poking into her mouth. She tries to spit it out to no avail, and instead she whines. Her throat aches around the noise. Raphael’s hand smooths over her forehead, brushing back sweaty hair and then becoming an insistent press as Gabriel tries to sit up. She doubts she would have gotten anywhere even if Raphael didn’t make her stay still. Everything hurts, from head to toe, like someone took a hammer to her muscles and beat them to death. She makes a face around the thermometer again as Raphael draws it out.

Gabriel glimpses the numbers. They look blurry, but she knows they’re higher than Lucifer’s temperature. The worry on Raphael’s face does nothing to reassure her.

And then, worse, Raphael leaves.

Gabriel can’t help the noise she makes, pitiful and high like a wounded animal. She wriggles to get the covers off of her. She’s too hot, everything is too hot, and her clothes and her hair stick to her skin. The sheets under her back are uncomfortably damp. She shakes her head and makes herself nauseously dizzy in the process. The whole world spins over her head, but squeezing her eyes shut again doesn’t help. She wants to go back to sleep. Nothing hurt when she was asleep.

The thought makes her panic and flail, knocking the covers completely off the bed.

“Gabriel,” it’s Michael’s voice, and then Michael’s hand gripping her arm, forcing her back to stillness. She curls into him. He doesn’t react to her pressing her sweaty body against his, keeping his voice calm. “That’s better. Don’t move so much. You’re very sick.” Michael’s hand smooths over her hair.

“I don’t want to go back,” she tells him. He’s Michael. He’s the oldest, the strongest, and if anyone can keep her here and not- “Don’t let me go back. I can’t do it again.” The darkness behind her eyelids is too much like that empty place, and she keeps them forced open, staring up at Michael. The light above his head makes an odd halo. He frowns.

“I don’t-”

“She needs to-” Raphael starts. The moment they’re in Gabriel’s line of sight again, Gabriel squirms towards them. “To drink,” Raphael finishes, once Gabriel has completely invaded her space. Gabriel presses her forehead into the cold plastic of the water bottle Raphael is holding and sighs.

“I can take care of it,” Michael offers. Raphael doesn’t hand over the bottle. Instead, Gabriel allows them to help her.

“You should check on Lucifer,” Raphael says, but there’s something more relaxed about their tone. Gabriel smiles. She can be a good patient.

The next few days are torture. Gabriel can’t sleep, but she’s never really awake either. She’s always drifting in the nauseous in-between, interrupted every once in a while by Raphael prompting her to drink or helping her to the bathroom. They take Gabriel’s temperature religiously, and Gabriel watches as the number creeps further and further up, the furrow in Raphael’s brow growing deeper.

Lucifer and Michael flit in and out of her world, too. Michael takes it upon himself to readjust her pillows and pull the sheets out from under her to wash when they get too gross. Lucifer recovers quicker than she did, and more than a few times, she finds him sitting beside her on the bed, pressing his cool hand against his forehead.

(She hears the three of them discussing whether or not to take her to a hospital, and yells as loud as she can - which isn’t very loud when her throat is so sore - for them to not do that. They can’t afford a hospital bill. Or random doctors seeing whatever horror show is going on inside Gabriel’s vessel. It must work, since she ends that night sweating in her own bed again and not in the ER.)

Finally, her fever breaks. Raphael hauls her out of bed and into a cold shower. Gabriel doesn’t have the energy to stand on her own in the shower for long. Raphael joins her. Gabriel rests her head against the shower's wall and lets Raphael wash out her hair. Gabriel’s muscles are still aching, and her throat isn’t much better, but her body isn’t actively trying to boil her alive anymore. She’ll take it.

“Why the long face?” she asks Raphael, catching her expression out of the corner of her eye before Raphael moves away again.

“What?” Raphael massages Gabriel’s scalp. She sighs, leaning back into them, despite the annoyed noise they make at how much harder it is to wash her hair like that.

“I’m not dying now-”

“You were never dying,” Raphael says.

“-so why aren’t you happy? You don’t have to take care of me anymore.” Raphael’s quiet for a minute.

“But I knew how to,” Raphael answers

Gabriel stares down at the dim reflection of her face in the wet shower tiles.

“Well,” she says, “we could always start poisoning Michael, if you need someone sickly to look after.” She thinks it’s a cough at first, but then Raphael gets louder, and it’s laughter, caught off-guard and unable to be restrained, flavored by exhaustion. Gabriel smiles and snuggles back into them, smearing shampoo all of their shoulder until they get annoyed again.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[koionthewalls]

tagged by @laurelwen (i love your Like Minds stuff btw)

last song: Peace Signs at the Crash Site by Tenchio ft. Taito Rifu

favourite colour: red, every shade of red

currently watching: Twin Peaks, Bocchi the Rock!, Terror in Resonance

last movie: Donnie Darko

currently reading: House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski, Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, The Female Thermometer by Terry Castle, Secret Societies by Philip Gardiner, Daughter Zion Talks Back to the Prophets by Carleen Mandolfo

sweet, spicy or savoury: spicy and savory, mostly spicy; not very fond of sweet things unless done in a specific way

relationship status: single

current obsessions: House of Leaves still lives in my head rent free. Who's Lila? is also up there as well as Like Minds which was an old obsession that recently resurfaced because of a dream I had (I am not joking). absolutely love the Fear & Hunger 1 and 2 and Milk Inside and Milk Outside. there's also COD: MW which I find extremely funny because of how out of place it is in comparison to my other fixations. i also like prehistoric megaflora and fauna (Cambrian Explosion is my babygirl).

last thing i googled: Joan D'arc, she popped up in my head recently for no reason and i wanted to read more about her

currently working on: various college assignments. it is hell. tagging (no pressure (～￣▽￣)～): @whenthedeeppurplefalls @xintetsu

[autobot2001]

When The Tough Autobot Gets Sick

Sicktember 2023 one-shot 2/6 Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Lily Jones (OC) Prompts: Day 3; "What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?" Day 7: You're a Jerk When You're Sick" Day 21; "But if you stay, you'll get sick too" Day 24: Did you just sneeze?" Warning: None Description; Sunstreaker gets sick after taking care of Lily all weekend while she's sick.

Sunstreaker already misses having Lily stay at the base. He knew it would be an adjustment getting used to Lily coming only on weekends and school vacations. One thing Sunstreaker didn't think about is when Lily gets sick. Until he gets a text. Lily, I'm not coming to the base today. I feel like scrap. Sunstreaker doesn't like reading that Lily is sick. He's not exactly happy he has the day off when he's thinking of going to Lily's house just because she's sick.

Lily's mom, Lexie, isn't surprised Sunstreakee is at the door. "Why am I not surprised?" She smiles, "I was expecting Drift to be with you." "I didn't think to have him come with me, but I know you're caring for Lily." Lexie doesn't tell Sunstreaker how sick Lily is as she watches him go upstairs.

Sunstreaker walks into Lily's dark room. The curtains keep the light out, and the door was closed. Sunstreaker closes the door and sits on his knees by the bed. He feels Lily's feverish forehead. Uncertain how long he'll be waiting, Sunstreaker repositions to sitting on his butt and leaning on the bed. Sideswipe, I'll be here all weekend. Sunstreaker tells his twin brother through their bond. I'll let Prowl know so he doesn't question if you'll do your patrol on Monday. I will do my patrol before getting back to the base on Monday. Sideswipe doesn't question if Sunstreaker will wear the same clothes for two days. Indeed, he asks to know how Lily is doing when she wakes up after being told she's asleep.

Sunstreaker couldn't resist sketching Lily while she slept. He finishes just before she wakes up. "You feeling any better?" Sunstreaker asks. "No," she replies, "why are you here?" "Because I wanted to, even if you're sick." "But if you stay, you'll get sick too." "Sure, Ratchet programmed our holoforms to function like the human body, but I've yet to get sick." "You've been on Earth, using holoforms for fourteen years. I'm not believing you haven't gotten sick yet." The subject is dropped. Lily wants Sunstreaker to stay here and care for her but worries he'll get sick. "You want me to carry you downstairs to the living room?" Lily nods. Sunstreaker picks Lily up while she's under the blankets.

Sunstreaker lays Lily on the couch and puts the TV on. Aware Lily will go back to sleep and that this is likely what he'll be doing until he must leave Monday morning. I don't care if I'm not doing anything but watching TV or sketching. I'm not going back to the base yet. Sunstreaker thinks as he looks at Lily.

"I made soup," Lexie tells Sunstreaker. She puts two bowls on the table. One is full of soup, and the other is a third full. She also puts a thermometer on the coffee table, "I'll let you take care of her. There are cough drops and medication in the upstairs bathroom. You don't need to constantly check her temperature, but I know you want to know." "Are you leaving?" "No, I know you want to take care of her," Lexie smiles and goes upstairs. "Lily, hey, you need to eat." "No," Lily whines. Sorry, I have to do this. Sunstreaker thinks as he sits Lily up. He didn't think Lily would let him feed her. By how she looks, he doesn't think Lily is doing this on purpose.

Five minutes is long enough for Lily. "A little more, then you can lie down." Sunstreaker gets Lily to finish what was in her bowl before laying her back down. He takes her temperature, but he's not relieved it's 99°. Worried her fever will get worse. Sunstreaker gets a text from Drift will a few suggestions and asking if Sunstreaker wants him to make soup. Sunstreaker tells him not to bother. Leaving out, he doesn't want Drift to get sick.

As Sunstreaker thought, he spent most of the weekend sketching or watching TV. Lily slept most of the time. She feels a little better by Sunday night, but not enough to return to school. Sunstreaker also wants to avoid taking her to the base until she's well enough to go back to "Did you just sneeze?" Lily asks as Sunstreaker gets comfortable on the cot he's been sleeping on. Wishing Lily had a bunk bed. "So what if I did? Don't humans also sneeze for other reasons aside from being sick?" Lily doesn't answer, "exactly, good night." Sunstreaker turns off the lamp, feeling the beginning of a cold in his throat. Hoping it'll be ignorable.

Sunstreaker feels worse when he wakes up, but he can ignore how he feels. This is a good thing when the other one he'd be informing about a last-minute replacement for morning patrol is Prowl, who wouldn't believe Sunstreaker. "Are you going to be able to come back?" Lily asks. "Maybe." This normally wouldn't be a lie, but Sunstreaker already feels like he won't be able to ignore he's sick.

Sunstreaker didn't think an hour's patrol in his alt mode and picking up Starbucks would be enough to cause him to feel worse to the point where he wants to go back to bed.

Drift is walking down the hall when he sees Sunstreaker and becomes concerned. Especially since he knows Sunstreaker took care of Lily all weekend. "Are you feeling ok?" He asks. "I'm fine," Sunstreaker argues. While this is typical Sunstreaker behavior, Sunstreaker would only talk like this towards his brother, Drift, and a few others when angry. Drift can tell Sunstreaker isn't angry. Unless he can count Sunstreaker not liking that he got sick as being angry. Drift informs Sideswipe that Sunstreaker might be sick and wants to know how Sunstreaker behaves until Sideswipe leaves to teach his class in an hour.

Sideswipe sits at his desk, watching Sunstreaker as he puts his Starbucks items on the coffee table, takes off his leather jacket and boots, and gets into bed. Sideswipe; he just went to bed. You know he wouldn't do that if he was up all night. Drift; I'll be right there.

Sunstreaker is not pleased to see Drift in the room, and he knows Drift has a thermometer. "Forehead reading, so you can't refuse," Drift comments, "100°, you caught Lily's cold. Even doing your patrol this morning was enough to feel like scrap. I'll be back later." Drift removes a package of cough drops from his subspace and puts them on the nightstand. Sideswipe gives Drift the hot coffee Sunstreaker got to put on the nightstand.

"He'll likely be asleep all day. I'm going to make the soup I'd make for Jamie when she's sick," Drift explains to Sideswipe. The two leave the room. Sunstreaker hopes to sleep.

"You didn't make soup for Lily?" Sideswipe asks as the two walk down the hall. "Sunstreaker didn't want me to. He's going to learn how homemade is better than canned. Also, he was worried I'd get sick, but it's cold and flu season. The viruses will be spreading around here." "Uh, so shouldn't you and Crosshairs leave?" "Really? Do you know how stupid that sounds? Do you realize it's the same time of year in Jamie's dimension? But we are going back to Jamie's dimension soon. I think I better stay until Sunstreaker is better." "Hey, I can take care of him." Drift says nothing more.

Sunstreaker is awake when Sideswipe returns. Sideswipe finds out Sunstreaker didn't sleep the two hours he was gone. "Sideswipe, go get cold medicine," Sunstreaker orders, "these aren't doing anything." "How many did you have in two hours?" "Does it matter?! They're not working!" "Uh, yeah, it does. That's also medicine. You're not getting anything for a few hours." "Frag you!" "You're a jerk when you're sick."

Sideswipe deals with Sunstreaker complaining for the next two hours until Drift walks in with a bowl of soup. "Sorry, I thought those would help," Drift apologizes. "For a few minutes," Sunstreaker tells him. Sunstreaker can sit up to eat the soup.

"So, is he sick with the flu?" Sideswipe whispers. "No, he's hating the symptoms. I can give him cold medicine. That'll help, and he'll be able to sleep." "So glad he doesn't get sick often. He's been a jerk." "Like he's not a jerk when he's not sick. Especially when he's angry." "It's going to be a long week." After finishing the soup, Drift gives Sunstreaker medicine and leaves the room with the bowl. Sunstreaker can go to sleep.

Lily is well enough to go to school on Tuesday. She goes to the base after school. Drift and Sideswipe thought she wouldn't come on Saturday. The two tell her Sunstreaker is sick but let her go to the twins' room.

Sunstreaker does not like Lily being allowed in the room. Now he worries she'll get sick again rather than that she's seeing he's sick. "What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?" She asks as she feels his forehead. Sunstreaker only groans. Sideswipe tells Lily how Sunstreaker has been a jerk and about the soup Drift made. "I'll bring dinner here," Drift decides and leaves. Lily tells her mom she's staying at the base for a few hours.

Sunstreaker feels well enough to sit on the couch with Lily. Sideswipe sits on the other side of Lily. The three didn't think Crosshairs would be with Drift. They figured Drift would use a cart but didn't think he'd bring the pot of soup and bowls. "This is good," Lily comments. "Better than canned soup?" Crosshairs asks. "Uh….yeah." "It is better than canned," Sunstreaker comments. Drift explains that he would have made the soup, adding what he told Sideswipe. Sunstreaker feels she needs to go back to bed after everyone finishes dinner. "I don't know if you can get sick again," Sunstreaker tells Lily, "as much as I hope you can come here after school every day, I don't want you to until I'm over this cold, ok?" Lily doesn't argue with Sunstreaker. She hugs him and leaves.

"Good news is he doesn't get sick often," Sideswipe assures her, "can you get sick again this soon?" "I don't know. Considering how everyone is different, maybe." "Then it's wise you wait until the weekend to come back. He should be better by then." "Fine," Lily sulks.

[eva-knits12]

A Drysdale Thanksgiving

Trigger warning: sick child, mentions of a chronic illness, multiple sclerosis, fluff

Summary: It's Thanksgiving, and you and Ransom have to take care of a sick child.

"MOMMY! DADDY!" screams Harlan.

You get up, and grab your cane. Ransom gets up, and you both pad barefoot to the twins' room.

"What is it Harlan? Did you have a bad dream, buddy?" You say, stroking Harlan's hair away from his forehead.

"No, but I think Katherine's sick," says Harlan.

"Why do you say that, buddy?" says Ransom.

"Katherine can't stop coughing" says Harlan.

That's when you and Ransom heard it. Katherine coughed, but it wasn't a typical cough.

You immediately feel Katherine's forehead, and she's burning up. She coughs again, and you grab a tissue. She coughs up some mucus, and you know it's bad. Ransom comes back with the forehead thermometer, and takes Katherine's temperature. When it's done, the thermometer reads 103 degrees.

"Louise, call your brother, and get dressed. We're taking Katherine to the ER," says Ransom. Katherine coughs again, and it's bad.

A few minutes later, your brother arrives. Ransom explains the situation, and you and Ransom load Katherine into the Lexus, and take her straight to the ER. You're sitting in the backseat, next to Katherine, and telling her that she'll be okay.

"Shh, shh, you'll be fine, princess. Okay, Mommy and Daddy will do everything to make you better, okay princess," you say, stroking Katherine's hair. She coughs again, and coughs so hard, that she throws up on herself.

"Ransom! Katherine's throwing up now!" You sound alarmed. You just know that Katherine is getting sicker.

"WHAT THE SHIT?" screams Ransom.

"Oh, Katherine. You must be very sick," says Ransom.

When you and Random arrive at the hospital, Ransom pulls up, and the security guard pulls up with a wheelchair. You get out with your cane, and the security guard insists that you sit in it with Katherine in your lap.

Ransom parks the Lexus, and sits and waits with you in the waiting room. When Katherine is triaged a few minutes later, she's immediately taken to the pediatric area of the ER.

The doctor and the nurses perform their exam. Katherine is diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia, and the type of bacteria that caused it is being tested for.

Katherine keeps coughing that she keeps throwing up on herself. The pediatrician and the ER doc decide to admit Katherine.

"Call your brother, Louise. Just give him an update," says Ransom.

You call your brother, and let him know that Katherine has been admitted. You the call your dad, and you explain the situation. You're expecting the worst, given that your mom's sister died from pneumonia on Christmas Day.

Ransom just holds you in his arms. You're crying so hard, asking God, Jesus, and Buddha why Katherine. You cry to the point of exhaustion.

Ransom is worried. He just wants his little princess to be okay.

"Mr, and Mrs. Drysdale, we're going to need to admit Katherine for the next few days," says the doctor. You're so tired that the words the doctor is saying aren't making sense. Plus, Random looks anxious, on account of he hates hospitals.

"Katherine has bacterial pneumonia. You did the right thing by getting her here, which is crucial in cases like this. This isn't a cold. I'll have to give her a round of antibiotics, and then I'm putting her on IV drip. That should help get some fluid in her system,"says the doctor.

"Wait, what else can be done? you ask the doctor.

"Right now, go home. Get some rest, and bring Katherine some clothes and some toys, You've done all you can. You managed to get her here," says the doctor.

Ransom explains that it was Harlan that alerted you both. You both decide to bring Harlan tomorrow. That afternoon, you would go to your brother's.

You look in Katherine's room, and the nurse is putting the IV in her.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and the last thing that you both wanted was a sick child in the hospital. You and Ransom see Katherine before you both go home. Instead, you both collapse next to Katherine, exhaustion taking over the both you and Ransom.

Several hours later, you both wake up in Katherine's hospital room. Ransom helps you up, but asks the nurse for a wheelchair. The nurse finds an adult wheelchair.

"Go home, Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale. Get some rest, and take a shower. You can come back later with some toys, books, and clothes for Katherine,"says the nurse. The nurse helps you in the wheelchair, and takes you to the first floor, where Ransom pulls up the Lexus.

You and Ransom return home, and sleep in each other's arms. You and Ransom wake up at 12:30 p.m. and shower together.

"Ransom, why us? Why Katherine?" You ask, in between tears.

"I wish I had the answers, sweetheart. The doctor says Katherine is going to be okay. We got her to the hospital in time," says Ransom, trying to ease your worry.

You and Ransom get dressed to go over to your brother's. You also pack some clothes for Katherine, along with her favorite stories, a book of fairy tales you had since childhood, and her Cinderella doll, her favorite Barbie doll, and her favorite stuffed animals. You both pack some coloring books, and her crayons for her. You stop at the hospital, and bring Katherine her things.

"Mommy, daddy, can you stay? I don't want to be here. I want to go home," says Katherine, who's now burst into tears.

"I know baby, but it's only for a few more days, okay, princess", you say.

"We'll come by after we're done at uncle Evan's, okay, princess," says Ransom.

This breaks both your and Ransom's heart. Nobody wants to be in the hospital, even when it's a holiday.

You head over to your brother's, and eat dinner. You visit for a while, and gather Harlan. You stop at the hospital with Harlan, so that Harlan could visit with his twin sister. Harlan and Ransom went to the gift shop, and Harlan got Katherine a teddy bear that says "Get Well Soon", and Ransom gets his daughter a bouquet of plastic flowers that's in a cute, pink vase shaped like a bear with a sun on its stomach. The bear is holding a balloon that says "Get Well Soon". Inside the vase is a bunch of plastic water beads. Harlan's bear is holding a small mylar balloon that's on a stick that says "Get Well Soon."

You, Ransom, and Harlan all spend some time with Katherine. She's still unwell, and she looks even more tired. You see that she's on another IV drip, and that she was in need of more fluids. You ask her to take a sips of some chicken broth, and she takes it. Ransom and Harlan deliver Katherine her gifts.

Ransom kisses his daughter's forehead, and tells her how big and strong she is, just like her beautiful mama. This tears you up. Ransom is busy feeding Katherine some chicken broth, and you give her sips of Gatorade.

"Blech! This stuff is too salty," says Katherine.

"I know princess, but right now, they're giving you things that are easy to swallow," says Ransom, who is feeding her the broth. Katherine's throat was sore and raw. The chicken broth is also easy to keep down.

Katherine is feeling a little better. You take the cup of Gatorade and ask Katherine to drink it.

"MMmmm, orange," says Katherine, who asks for another sip.

"I know this is good stuff, Katherine. Right now, the doctors and nurses just want you to replace your electrolytes, okay, princess," you say.

"The doctors also want you to get some nutrients in you, okay, princess," you say.

Harlan, who has been sitting on the side of the bed, coloring with Katherine, is wanting to help his sister, but feels helpless. He looks like he's about to cry.

"Mommy, what's klectorlytes?" asks Harlan.

"You know how Mommy and Daddy put gas in the car to help make the car go?" you tell Harlan.

"Electrolytes are basically the body's system of gas. Electrolytes help make the body go and helps keep the body running," you say.

Ransom is now reading Harlan and Katherine Snow White from your book of fairy tales. Eventually, Harlan falls asleep, and Ransom picks him up, and holds him close to his chest.

You and Ransom go home, but tell the staff that you'll be back first thing in the morning. The nurse says she'll keep you updates if anything happens.

You fall asleep in the Lexus, and Harlan is passed out in his car seat. Ransom takes one look, and kisses your temple. When you all get home, Ransom gets Harlan inside, and deposits him on the couch. He then comes back, and picks you up bridal style, and carries you to the bedroom.

Ransom helps Harlan into his pajamas, and helps him brush his teeth. Ransom also helps Harlan pee, and then picks him back up, and puts him in his bed. Ransom kisses his sons forehead. Harlan looks angelic as he's in a deep sleep that not even a five alarm fire could wake him now.

Ransom helps you into your pajamas, and helps you to the bathroom. He stands behind you as you brush your teeth. Ransom waits while you relieve yourself.

The next day, you all go to see Katherine in the hospital. The doctor and the nurse say that Katherine will be ready to go home tomorrow. Katherine is starting to look better, and she's feeling better.

"How are you doing, princess?" asks Ransom, who is stroking his daughter's hair away from her forehead.

"Daddy, can you take me home? I want to go home," says Katherine, who is bored from being in the hospital, and just wants to be in the comfort of her own bed. You and Ransom understand this.

"Tomorrow, princess. You'll come home with us tomorrow, okay," says Ransom. You're with Harlan in the cafeteria, and you're both eating some breakfast. Ransom is busy helping Katherine with her breakfast. You and Harlan join Katherine after you both finish your breakfast.

You, Ransom, and Harlan spend a little time with Katherine, and then leave when she falls asleep. You'll be back, later.

"Oh, Ransom. I know she doesn't want to be in the hospital, but I just want her home," you say. Ransom pulls you close, and this breaks his heart.

"I know, Louise. She's coming home tomorrow. We did the right thing, by getting her to the hospital right away," says Ransom.

You, Ransom, and Harlan visit her again that night. You leave when she falls asleep. You all go back home, and go to sleep.

The next day, you, Ransom, and Harlan are excited. You called Harlan in absent from pre-school, and you all head to the hospital to get Katherine. When you get there, the doctor and the nurses are performing their final exams. The nurse hands you some after care instructions. Ransom and Harlan are busy helping Katherine pack her clothes, and her things in her overnight bag.

"Just make sure to sit in the steam with her for a while to help loosen up her cough, it doesn't do much for pneumonia, but it will help loosen the cough up. Give her some ice cream or a popsicle to help soothe her throat. The doctor will be with you shortly to give you her prescription," says the nurse.

The doctor gives you and Ransom a prescription for Katherine's antibiotic. Her fever has gone down significantly, and she's looking and feeling better. On top of her overnight bag sits a pink and purple blanket, and a matching hand crocheted teddy bear. The pediatric ward likes to keep hand knit and hand crocheted blankets and hand knit and hand crocheted toys that local knitting circles and local crochet guilds like to make for the hospital. The blankets and the stuffed animals provided a sense of security and comfort for the kids.

Harlan is busy playing with his sister. They're playing with her dolls, and then after a few minutes, you Ransom puts Katherine in your lap, and wheels you down to the first floor lobby. The nurse helps you and Ransom bring down Katherine's stuffed bear and plastic flowers when she's ready to leave. Ransom goes and pulls the Lexus around, and you're waiting in the wheelchair with Katherine in your lap, and Harlan is standing next to you, holding your hand.

Ransom finally pulls up, and loads Katherine in her car seat, and then loads Harlan in his car seat. Ransom loads you into the front seat, puts your seatbelt on. Ransom puts his seatbelt on, and then you are headed home. Katherine has fallen asleep on the ride home, and Ransom gets Katherine in her Cinderella nightgown, and then gets her in bed. Katherine just wants to sleep in her own bed after being in the hospital for a few days. Ransom parks Harlan on the couch, and flips on the Disney Channel. Harlan falls asleep, and Ransom carries his son to his bed. The twins are busy sleeping in their beds.

Ransom carries you back into the house, and places you on your shared bed. Ransom decides to go grocery shopping and fill Katherine's prescription. Ransom comes back with the groceries, and with Katherine's medicine. Ransom gives her the first dose, the next dose will be given to Katherine after dinner.

"This stuffs icky, Daddy," says Katherine.

"I know, princess, but you need to take this until it's gone. You'll get much better once you take this, okay, princess," says Ransom.

Ransom fills the bathroom with steam, and then strips Katherine down to her panties. He then holds her close to his chest, and sits with her in the steam for a while. Katherine is already starting to feel better.

"Katherine, you're doing so much better, my big, brave girl," says Ransom. Katherine is awake, and just wants to be held and cuddled by her daddy right now.

"I'm feeling much better, daddy," says Katherine. Ransom is rubbing soothing circles on his daughter's back.

Your brother and your sister-in-law come over later, and bring a small turkey, some homemade stuffing, some mashed potatoes, and some cranberry sauce. They even bring some pumpkin pie and some vanilla ice cream, and some pumpkin ice cream. Your brother and your sister-in-law cook a Thanksgiving dinner for you guys, and you and Ransom are forever grateful.

Katherine's cousins have made her homemade get well cards, and they give her a stuffed dog that has a bright red ribbon on it's neck and "Get Well Soon" written on a silver heart .

Katherine takes her next dose of medicine, and then falls asleep after she has some vanilla ice cream. You and Ransom put the twins to bed, and your brother and your sister-in-law and your niece and nephew leave. They call the next morning to see how Katherine is doing.

Your Thanksgiving was later than expected, but it was nice. You had a sick child, and you smile lovingly at your husband. You and Ransom realize that this is nothing in the grand scheme of things. A sick child who needed to be hospitalized happens. You and Ransom got through this, you and Ransom got through you're MS progressing, and you both got through a lot more. You'll both get through a lot more.

[warsawmountain]

# The Medicine-Maker

Winter needles through his coat as he thunders down Rutherford's cracked sidewalks,

past boarded brownstones that skeleton against grey New Jersey sky. The doctor's

leather bag weighs heavy with glass vials that cathedral light through amber,

while his other pocket manifestos with folded papers, each one psalming

with half-formed lines pressed between thermometer readings and pulse counts.

The hospital corridors fluorescent him into shadow-versions as he moves

between rooms where bodies birth and die. His stethoscope third-eyes

against trembling flesh, listening for the meter hiding underneath ribs

while his mind blood-rushes with images: glazed pottery sweetening

on windowsills, rain-slick wheelbarrows rusting in spring-muddied yards.

His patients fever through their stories without knowing how they poem

into his midnight notebooks - how their racing pulses percussion

into unexpected rhythms, their rattling breaths caesura between stanzas.

He morgues their suffering into something beautiful, though they'll never

know how their pain flowered into verse between his prescription-writing.

The examination rooms confessional around him as he genuflects

beside bedsides, listening. His hands ghost over swollen bellies,

track rashes constellating across backs, while his mind archives

every detail: the precise color of bruised flesh plumming beneath skin,

how infection marbles through veins like ink bleeding through wet paper.

Night emergencies ambulance him from sleep - forceps-births and

knife-fights, children whooping-coughing toward dawn. He drives home

past factories smokestacking the stars away, medical charts autumning

from his passenger seat. Some nights he wants to choose: the healing

or the writing. But both pulses metronome in him, twin-hearted, vital.

Tomorrow he'll do it again: press his fingers against wrists while words

pulse behind his eyes, measure breaths while metaphors gestate.

He'll write prescriptions that cure bodies while drafting poems that salve

souls, until he can no longer separate the medicines. Until paying attention

becomes its own kind of healing, and healing becomes its own kind of art.

[starstwinkleplanetsshine]

Daughter of the Sea

Chapter Eight: I Look into a Mirror (Read on AO3 here)

The dawn was just breaking outside, but I didn’t care. I was up and out of my cabin in ten minutes, running in the early morning haze towards the Big House. There was a scary moment when I thought the main doors would be locked, but as I jiggled them they turned with ease. I tried to remember my way through the maze of hallways, but no matter which way I turned, I could not find the living room, or wherever Chiron slept. Instead, I turned down a hallway I didn’t recognize, bathed in fluorescent light and smelling extremely clean. I made my way to the end of the hall and walked into a large room that I immediately knew was an infirmary. There were rows of empty cots with portable medical stations set up between them, along with corny posters with different mythological creatures on them and some medical pun accompanying them, such as a satyr with a thermometer sticking out of its mouth, the text below reding “Don't let sickness get your goat!” 

At first I thought the room was empty, but then I saw a girl slumped in a chair in the corner, her nose buried in a book. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Cadence?” 

The girl looked up so fast, it made me dizzy. Her eyes were wild and puffy, as if she hadn’t slept well for the last week. She probably hasn’t, I thought. No one had been sleeping very well lately. 

“Angie? Are you okay? What are you doing here?” I walked into the room and towards her. 

“I had another dream about Percy.” My friend nodded and put down her book, which looked like one of those teen fantasy novels. I had been telling Cadence all about my other dreams, and she was the only one who seemed to believe me, at least a little bit. 

“Okay. What did you see?” 

I told her about the conversation between the man and Percy, and then being in the raft on the open ocean with my brother sleeping beside me. 

“What do you think that means?” I asked. 

“Well, the first part is harder to understand, but the second part is clear. If the things you’re seeing are actually visions, and not just dreams, then I would say Percy is coming home.” She said it as if she didn’t want to get her own hopes up, but it was all I needed to hear. 

“I knew it.” 

“Angie, these things can be…tricky.” 

“I know, but—”

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up for nothing. I’ve seen it before. Campers are convinced their dreams are telling them something, but it turns out they weren’t true at all. Prophetic dreams aren’t always what they seem to be. Trust me, I would know.” I knew she had a point, her dad was the god of prophecy, after all. 

I was silent for a while, thinking about everything that had happened in the past few weeks. 

“I know it's crazy,” I started, my eyes trained on the floor, “but I feel such a connection to him. I know we’ve never met, but still….” I was expecting for Cadence to call me insane, but instead she just nodded. 

“The connection between twins is a powerful thing, especially for demigods. If anyone understands that, it's children of Apollo. The sun and moon need each other, and if one faded, the other would lose half of itself.” She turned to look at me. “I know Percy well. I was here when he first came to Camp, I’ve watched him grow into the hero he became. There aren’t many in our age group, as you know, so we’re all pretty close. And I can tell you, Angie, that you are like mirrors of each other. In everything you do, I see Percy. So I believe you when you say you feel a connection. I can see it.” 

I don’t know when I started crying, but it took me a long time to stop. 

Cadence sat with me, rubbing my back and helping to calm me down, well into the morning. We missed breakfast, which was fine because I didn't have an appetite anyway. Soon enough, another Apollo kid came in and Cadence stood up. 

“My shift is over, I have to go teach archery lessons. Will you be alright?” 

I nodded and stood up. 

“About later today…” she shifted nervously and the other camper pretended to be very interested in an ace bandage. “Are you gonna go?” 

I shook my head. “I don’t think I can. He’s not gone, I know it.” 

“Alright,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t think I can bear it either, so why don’t you come back here? Somebodys gotta be manning the infirmary, anyways.” 

I nodded, feeling grateful for such a good friend. “Okay.” 

I followed Cadence out of the Big House, and we parted ways soon after, her heading to the archery fields and me towards the sword fighting arena. There was no one there, surprisingly, so I practiced drills and forms on my own. I found it helped me clear my mind, in a strange way, just focusing on the task at hand and nothing else.

Lunch passed, then afternoon activities, and I was still in the same spot. No one came to make me eat, which I was grateful for. I didn’t want to see anybody. Soon enough, a conch sounded. It was too early for dinner, so it could only mean one thing: it was time for my brother’s funeral. 

Reluctantly I made my way back to the Big House, keeping my head low as I walked by the campers going in the opposite direction. Nobody spoke, and most people looked like they were barely holding back tears. I envied all of them for getting the chance to meet Percy. I was angry and sad. 

I was glad that the only person in the infirmary was Cadence, sitting in her same spot but not reading a book. She sat with her eyes closed, muttering something I guessed was a prayer, and she looked significantly worse than she had that morning. Her hair was coming out of her braid, her clothes were dirty, and when she opened her eyes, they were bloodshot and puffy, like she had been crying. Hard. 

“Hey, Angie.” She managed, and I came and sat next to her. 

“Hey.”

We sat in silence for a long time, until Cadence began to tell me stories about my brother. She told me about when he got claimed after his first game of Capture the Flag. She told me about how he and Annabeth had gone on a quest to save the Camp by finding the Golden Fleece, and how they had accidentally brought Thalia Grace back to life. She told me about last summer when they had saved the goddess Artemis from the titan Atlas, both he and Annabeth taking turns holding up the sky, which is why she now had streaks of gray in her blonde hair. 

In every story, Annabeth was there. In every story, Percy’s fierce love and protection for his friends was evident. It was like Cadence was holding her own personal funeral for her friend, remembering everything good he did and everything good he was. Angie let her talk and soaked up every description she got, wondering if she had been wrong the whole time. Wondering if the only way she would ever get to know her brother was through the stories of others. 

Suddenly, the sound of the front door being slammed open echoed through the empty halls. Chiron’s hooves reverberated off the walls, and it sounded like he had just been galloping and was now slowing his pace. Cadence hardly looked up, until we heard voices. 

“You’ve been gone two weeks!” Someone shouted, their voice exasperated and with a hint of disbelief. I thought it sounded like Annabeth, but I wasn’t sure. “When I heard the explosion, I thought—” 

“I know.” the second voice said. “I’m sorry. But I figured out how to get through the Labyrinth. I talked to Hephestaus.” Cadence’s eyes went wide, as if she had just seen a ghost. Well, as if she had just heard a ghost. 

“It can't be…” she said numbly, before bolting out of the room. 

It took me a few seconds to get up and follow her, my head spinning. I was positive I had never heard that voice before, but something deep inside me knew it, like it was a part of me. I breathlessly, slowly, made my way into the hallway and towards the sound. 

I rounded the corner to see Cadence with her arms around the boy I had seen in my dreams. The same dark hair, wavy and messy. The same tan skin and strong arms. The same sea-green eyes. He was smiling, although he looked like he was still in some pain. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Cady. It wasn’t my choice to be away this long.” Annabeth stood next to him, oscillating between relief and fury. I stood at the end of the hallway and stared, not daring to make a sound, and not knowing what I would say. Finally, his squinted eyes found me, intense and almost impossible to read. He tilted his head as if trying to put the pieces together. 

“I’ve seen you before.” He said, his voice deep and resonant like the sea. “In my dreams on the island. I would catch you sitting in the surf, watching.” 

My mouth fell open. 

“I thought you were a Naiad or something, but you aren’t, are you?” 

“I—” I looked to Cadence, my eyes panicked, but she just looked at Chiron with the same questioning expression. 

“Percy, I know there is a lot we still need to discuss, and the quest is not yet over, but we’ve had a new arrival since you were away.” The centaur turned to me. “My dear, why don’t you introduce yourself.” 

I walked forward, my mouth dry and my palms sweaty. I felt waves of nervousness wash over me, and it was like I had never spoken to another person before. I suddenly realized how terrified I was to meet him, despite wanting desperately to for the past two weeks. 

What if he resented me? What if he liked being the only child of Poseidon, and saw me as competition? What if he didn’t see me as his real sister, and wanted nothing to do with me? 

I swallowed my fear and the lump that had formed in my throat and spoke. 

“I’m Andromeda Jackson. But, uhh, you can call me Angie.” His eyes went wide. 

“Did you say Jackson?” 

I nodded. 

“Does that mean you’re…” 

“Your sister.” I said, my voice small. His eyes were studying me now, peering into mine, as if he was trying to see through me. I thought I had never seen more terrifying eyes in my life, his face was intense and calculating, his expression hard and impossible to read. I could do nothing but stand there and stare back at him. 

Suddenly, he broke out in a smile. 

“It’s like looking into a mirror.” 

I nearly collapsed with relief, and a small smile made its way to my face too. 

“That’s because we’re twins.” His mouth fell open. 

“I have a twin sister?!” It was a mix of a question and an exclamation, like he couldn’t believe it but he was excited anyway. “How did you get here? Where have you been? How is this possible? Does mom—“ 

“I’m sure there will be plenty of time for you two to get acquainted.” Chiron interrupted. “But for now, we have much to discuss. Percy, Annabeth, follow me please. Cadence, take Angie to the kitchen and get her food. Miss Jackson missed both meals today, and I insist she has something now.” 

Now that I wasn’t dreading the fate of my brother, I realized how hungry I was. Percy gave me a quizzical look, but did as the centaur said.

“We’ll talk at dinner!” He shouted as he rounded a corner, his eyes twinkling. 

I turned to Cadence, who hadn’t stopped smiling. 

“You were right.” She breathed out, as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. 

“He’s so…” I couldn’t find the right word. 

“Intense?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Give him time, I have a feeling he’ll be the best brother.”

I followed Cadence to the kitchen, both of us feeling lighter than we had in weeks. We ate and talked more about Percy and the quest he was on, and before long the conch signaling dinner blew. Despite just eating, I was still hungry, so we made our way to the dining pavilion. I was excited to not be the only one at the Poseidon table anymore, and sure enough, Percy, Annabeth, and Chiron came up the hill a couple minutes later. 

The dark-haired boy came straight for me, his green eyes so intense they would’ve scared me if I hadn’t been staring at identical ones my whole life. 

“You have some explaining to do.” He said as he grabbed his magically full plate and moved to the offering line. 

I told him everything—how his mom, our mom, had carried twins, how Hestia protected me from Zeus’ wrath and hid me in Arizona, and the events that brought me to camp. He asked me how growing up somewhere so dry was, and I asked him how growing up in New York City was. We traded stories and joked and laughed, and as I looked at him, I felt something settle into place. That hole that had always been there was filled, and that feeling that I was missing something finally went away. Sitting at the Poseidon table next to my twin at a camp for children of the gods, I finally felt like I had found my home. 

“Wait, why is your drink blue?” I asked as dinner was coming to a close. He laughed—a pure, ringing sound. 

“It’s kind of a joke I have with my mom, umm, our mom, I guess. When I was little, my stepdad at the time once said that there were no blue foods. After that, mom went out of her way to find any and all blue foods she could. Eventually, almost everything she made was blue—blue cookies, blue pancakes, blue pasta.” 

I raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Okay that one wasn’t very good, but it was blue.” We laughed again. “Since being away so much, blue has been my way to feel close to her. So, blue Dr. Pepper.” He took a sip from his magic goblet, and I looked down at my very normal Dr. Pepper. He touched my cup and all of a sudden, the liquid turned from brown to blue. When I looked up at him, he was smiling. 

“You’re a Jackson, aren’t you? Jacksons eat blue food.” 

Fighting back tears, I took a sip, and I swear it tasted ten times better. 

[steamishot]

funky

although there have been a lot of good moments this past month, i overall was in a funk. in hindsight, i was really disappointed with how the job search was going and a lot of my expectations going out the window. our plan of moving back in winter (aka now) looks more like summer of next year or later. i was in LA for three weeks and matt and i were semi-long distance. i felt really sad that after all these years of hard work, we were where we started: me in my parents house, him in a tiny apartment in NYC, and the future uncertain. i felt like we had nothing to show for all the years of sacrifice and it is embarrassing. also, being at home feels different recently. like there is some silent disappointment that we haven't moved back home yet and it keeps getting delayed (could be me projecting).

my ginger/headspace app from kaiser finally reactivated during a good time. i had a couple texting sessions with life coaches which were helpful. the main takeaway from this is that i became so tunnel-visioned on something that is essentially out of my control, and basically forgot to nurture all the things that are in my control. i felt like i had job search depression by extension. reading about how others were struggling to find a good job (and remembering that my own brother was unemployed for 8 months) helped me feel less alone. i am planning on doing therapy starting december since it is covered by kaiser when i'm in CA.

finally, i cried at least 6+ times in the last two weeks instead of holding it all in. i usually only cry a couple of times a year max. it felt very releasing, and i reminded myself it's okay to not be okay.

positive things

my cousin stephanie came to visit from TX and she slept over at my parent's house for 3 nights. it was so nice to get to know her a little bit more. i never felt close to her because she grew up a lot more americanized and i am naturally closed off, but there's also many commonalities by just being related. she and matt connected because they're both in healthcare. she joined us for hot yoga one day and was quite good

one of the days, my niece had a 102 fever. luckily, there were two healthcare professionals in the room. i went along with matt (MD) and stephanie (PA) to CVS to pick up an ear thermometer since we didn't have one at home

attended S&A's wedding. it was an intimate setting and the bride was gorgeous ;) got to finally meet the groom A and see J&O again after 3+ years. we really liked the succulents and food.

had a craft's day with G at her parent's house in east LA while watching twin flames and no hard feelings. we made felt ornaments that i later gave to my niece

went on a hike and ate dinner with matt's family at ho kee cafe.

got hai di lao and matcha with stephanie at westfiled santa anita. i gifted her my old coffee grinder, but my clumsy self broke the glass container at the last minute :/

had dinner at my aunt's house for veterans day. i got to see my baby cousin E who is taller now! i picked up cousin B from color guard practice. it was inspiring to see how hard these teenagers were working

as part of the long distance lifestyle, matt and i met up in norcal to celebrate his birthday. we stayed at alila ventana big sur and carmel valley ranch. alila, though beautiful, was TOO indulgent for me lol. due to it being all inclusive, we basically planned our days around eating at the same restaurant and i just felt meh and stuck. i much preferred our carmel valley ranch stay, where we were more active and got to explore the town

funny side note, we took a class called balance and fit at CVR and it turns out everyone in the class was at least 80 years old. the instructor was nice enough not to treat us differently haha

did a corepower sculpt class in redwood city before flying a red eye back to NYC

matt has an interview with USC next week. a few other places have responded: kaiser, UCLA, memorialcare and cedars. fingers crossed (but keeping expectations low)

i started watching abbott elementary and really enjoyed it. recently enjoyed the movie a million miles away. i also started playing chess on chess.com. this is me learning how to nurture other parts in my life i've been neglecting. i am literally learning resilience by playing chess. i have a tendency of not wanting to lose/fail, and rather give up than learning how to do better. but, here i am losing and continuing to try lol

thanksgiving: matt is on a hard rotation and it is his birthday on thanksgiving day. R&T mentioned hanging out but we haven't finalized plans yet. i have plans with T to watch marvels on friday.

black friday wishlist: manduka yoga mats, yogitoes yoga towels, breville bambino plus espresso machine to keep at my parent's house, fellow opus grinder (already purchased) and maybe a new kindle cover

note: life is much more enjoyable when i don't try and control everything. appreciate the here and now, because i might miss it once it's gone. having such rigid expectations will always leave me feeling disappointed. enjoy the journey as it is 70-80% of the process.

[scaryfangirl2001]

Annabon is busy exploring the discovery center with her classmates, her mismatched fluffy socks peeking out from under her skirt as she scampers around. Her attention is suddenly grabbed by a small figure tugging at her sleeve. It's Brun, a lost 3-year-old with a mischievous grin and eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Hey, you! I'm Brun, and I've lost my family. Can you help me find them?" Brun's voice is high-pitched and cheerful, her words tumbling out in a rush. "They're super cool, I promise! My brother Odie is hiding in his hoodie, and Freya is the best at climbing trees. Thursday is a bit grumpy, but he's okay. And Lucas, oh, he's the funniest! You'll like them, I know it!"

Annabon, feeling a sense of responsibility, nods eagerly. "Sure, I can help! What do they look like?" She adjusts her glasses, her brown eyes focusing intently on Brun.

"Well, my mommy, Sara, is super strong and has short hair like a boy. And Papa Jed, he's tall and tells the best stories about flying planes! Oh, and Odie, he's tiny like me, and Freya has pigtails. Thursday has a red shirt, and Lucas... he's just Lucas. You'll know them when you see them!" Brun's description is a whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm.

Annabon takes her role as helper seriously. "Okay, let's go find them. I'm Annabon, by the way. I'm in second grade, and my best friend is Antonio. His dad is a policeman, so he knows all about finding people!" She puffs out her chest proudly.

As they wander through the discovery center, Annabon's sharp eyes scan the crowd. "There are so many people here. But we'll find them, don't worry. I'm good at puzzles, and this is like a puzzle, right?" She smiles reassuringly at Brun, who nods back, her braids swinging.

They pass by the butterfly exhibit, where Alice is trying to catch a monarch, and the rowdy twins, Althea and Attica, are having a loud argument. Whitney is climbing on a display, while Miles, with his earbuds in, seems to be in his own world. Simon is explaining something to Ray, who looks worriedly at her thermometer. Donna stands alone, her arms crossed, eyeing the crowd suspiciously. Jimmy is kicking a ball against a wall, and Trees is reading a book in a corner, seemingly unaware of the chaos around her.

Annabon stops by Donna. "Hey, Donna, have you seen a family with a tiny boy in a hoodie and a girl with pigtails? And a tall man who tells stories?"

Donna shrugs, her tough demeanor softening a bit. "Can't say I have. But I'll keep an eye out. That family sounds fun."

They continue their search, Brun's small hand trusting in Annabon's as they weave through the crowds. Annabon's analytical mind is hard at work, considering the characteristics of Brun's family members. She feels a sense of determination to reunite Brun with her loved ones, and her empathy shines through as she imagines how scared Brun must feel.

"We'll find them soon, Brun. Don't worry. Maybe they're outside by the planes. You said your papa tells stories about flying, right?" Annabon's suggestion makes Brun's eyes light up.

As they step outside, the cool breeze ruffles Annabon's hair. Brun spots a group by the aircraft display and tugs Annabon's hand excitedly. "There they are! That's Odie, see? And Freya is climbing that pole!"

Annabon smiles, relieved. "Great job, Brun! You found them. Let's go say hi."

As they approach, a woman with short hair and a kind smile turns around. "Brun, there you are! We've been looking for you."

"Mommy!" Brun runs to her mother, Sara, who sweeps her up in a tight hug. "This is my friend, Annabon. She helped me find you!"

Sara smiles warmly at Annabon. "Thank you so much, Annabon. You're a big help. I'm Sara, and this is my husband, Jed."

Jed, a tall man with a weathered face, nods gratefully. "Appreciate your help, young lady. Brun here is quite the adventurer."

Annabon beams with pride, her leadership skills shining through as she introduces herself and her family to Brun's. She feels a sense of accomplishment, knowing she has made a new friend and helped a lost child find her way back to her loved ones.

#55 What would your character do if a lost child came to them?

I know you all have amazing creative juices in you and some amazing characters. This prompt is just for you to have fun and to help you explore your Character in a different setting. I would LOVE to hear what your Characters would do.

[casiowatchesorg]

Designed for the Modern Explorer: The Casio G-Shock GG-1000-1A3 Watch

Introduction: For adventurous souls who seek to conquer the great outdoors, the Casio G-Shock Watch is the ultimate companion. With its rugged construction, practical features, and bold design, this timepiece is specifically engineered to meet the demands of the modern explorer. Let's delve into the remarkable qualities that make the Casio G-Shock GG-1000-1A3 the perfect choice for those who embrace the spirit of exploration.

Built to Endure: The Casio G-Shock GG-1000-1A3 Watch is synonymous with toughness. Its shock-resistant construction ensures that it can withstand the harshest conditions, making it a reliable partner for any adventure. With a mud-resistant structure and a robust 56mm case, this timepiece is ready to tackle rugged terrains, extreme temperatures, and even high-impact activities. It's a watch that won't let you down, no matter where your explorations take you.

Compass and Thermometer: Equipped with a built-in compass and thermometer, the Casio G-Shock GG-1000-1A3 offers valuable tools for outdoor navigation and temperature monitoring. The compass helps you find your bearings, ensuring you stay on the right path during your expeditions. The thermometer provides essential temperature readings, allowing you to adapt and make informed decisions based on your environment. These practical features enhance the functionality and usefulness of the watch for explorers.

Twin Sensor Technology: One of the standout features of the Casio G-Shock GG-1000-1A3 is its Twin Sensor technology, combining the compass and thermometer into a single module. This innovation optimizes space within the watch while providing accurate readings. The easy-to-read digital display ensures quick access to vital information, making it a reliable tool for outdoor enthusiasts who rely on precise measurements during their ventures.

Water Resistance and Illumination: As an explorer, encountering water is inevitable. The Casio G-Shock GG-1000-1A3 is water-resistant up to 200 meters, making it suitable for various water-related activities, including swimming and snorkeling. Additionally, the watch features LED illumination, allowing for easy readability in low-light conditions. Whether you're camping under the stars or exploring caves, the illuminated display ensures that you can always check the time with ease.

Conclusion: The Casio G-Shock GG-1000-1A3 Watch is the epitome of a timepiece designed for the modern explorer. Its rugged construction, practical features, and bold design make it a reliable and stylish companion for any outdoor adventure. With its built-in compass, thermometer, water resistance, and illumination, this watch empowers explorers to navigate their surroundings with confidence and stay connected to time, no matter how challenging the environment. If you're a modern adventurer seeking a timepiece that can keep up with your explorations, the Casio G-Shock GG-1000-1A3 is a worthy choice that won't disappoint.

[stillchasingfairies]

✨ Peter Pan's Cold ✨

Here’s a fun little story about what happens when Peter Pan catches a cold. @chaosgremlin95 put the thought in my head & I just had to write it. Peter's the cutest. I hope you enjoy it! It’s all under the cut, for the sake of everyone’s dashboard.

✨

The Fallen King of Hide-and-Seek

“Hk-choo!” Peter sneezed for what felt like the billionth time that day. “Rats!” He cursed under his breath. Sneezing in the middle of a game of hide-and-seek was always a dead giveaway. And Peter prided himself on being the king of hide-and-seek, per the general consensus.

    A rustle, and then… “A-ha!” In one quick motion, Cubby brushed away the branches that were providing a good hiding place for Peter Pan. His smug expression turned to one of total surprise. “Whoa! Peter! I didn’t think I’d find you this fast! Or at all!”

    Peter almost didn’t know how to take that. “Yeah… well… You got lucky this time,” he decided. The redhead swiped his runny nose along his arm, barbarically.

    Cubby was delighted, he’d gladly take all the luck he was entitled to. “You wanna help me find the others?”

    “Okay,” Peter nodded. “I’ll cover the sky, you cover the ground.” And with that, he hovered above the trees and started scanning the area. As Peter flew, however, he realized he was feeling kind of funny, almost like he was seasick, like he’d been floating on a raft a little too long. “Ugh–” he shook his head and swallowed thickly, hoping to get rid of the feeling. He was sure it would go away sooner or later.

    “Slightly! Got you too!” Cubby exclaimed down below. The boy laughed out loud. “It really is my lucky day!”

    “Aw man!” The fox-eared boy snapped his fingers in defeat. “I heard you found Pan already too?!”

    “I sure did!” Cubby’s smug smile reappeared. He was quite proud of his work today. Maybe there was a new hide-and-seek king in town.

Up above, Peter frowned indignantly. It wasn’t fair that his nose had given him away. If he hadn’t had this cold, he was sure he’d still be stealthily hidden behind those branches right now, silently giggling at the others.

Peter landed by Cubby and Slightly to join their conversation. But also to get away from the woozy feeling that flying was giving him. “Aaaehh, I think that’s enough hide-and-seek for today. Cubby wins.” He didn’t want him to rub it in any further. 

“Okay, but we have to get Tinker Bell, Tootles, Nibs, and the Twins out somehow,” Cubby reminded them.

Slightly, the self-appointed doctor of Never Land, was studying Peter with an ounce of doctorly concern. “Say, Pan, you look a little green around the gills.” Where’d he learn that term anyway. “Are ya sick?”

“I dunno,” Peter shrugged, snorting up a big sniffle. “Maybe a little,” he conceded. 

“I think we oughta go home so I can give you a checkup. I’m no good without my tools,” Slightly said. 

The bear-eared boy nodded eagerly. “Okay then, how about you two go back, and I’ll finish looking for the others!” Cubby suggested. 

“Even though the game is over?” Peter asked, although it was more of a demand.

“Yeah yeah,” Cubby said, to appease Peter.

With that, Peter and Slightly headed back to the Lost Boys’ hideout at Hangman’s Tree, while Cubby happily continued his search for the other boys.

✨

Dr. Slightly Is In

Back at the hideout, Peter was miserably sitting on the bed with a thermometer in his mouth and a bearskin blanket draped over his shoulders. Slightly stood watch, wearing his head mirror as any good doctor should, which, to be honest, he didn’t quite understand how to use.

“Am I done yet?” Peter asked softly, careful to keep the thermometer from falling out of his mouth. 

Slightly looked at the wall clock and decided that it had been just long enough for him to get an accurate reading. Peter was pretty antsy. “Yup!” He popped the thermometer out of Peter’s mouth and studied it, squinting at the little words etched into the glass. Peter’s temperature fell into the definitely-sick territory. “Says here you’re not very good.” 

Peter moaned in distress and coughed into the air. When he doesn’t have parents reminding him to cover his mouth, who can really blame him? 

Luckily for Peter, he couldn’t have found a better time to get sick, as Wendy was here on one of her “spring cleaning” visits, which Peter had so politely gotten Mrs. Darling to agree to.

Wendy appeared with a little cup in her dainty hands. “Oh Peter, it’s alright. You’ll be well in no time!” She knelt by him and put the cup in his hands. “It’s lavender chamomile tea. Go on, it won’t hurt. I’ve sweetened it with honey for you, too.” 

“Thanks, Wendy…” Peter eyed the tea with an ounce of hesitation, swirling its contents around before taking a sip. It wasn’t as sweet as something like pineapple juice, which he really loved to drink, but it was better than he expected. Peter did love the smell of lavender, and now he realized that the taste was quite pleasant too. Before he knew it, he’d drunk the cup dry. 

“I’ll get you some more,” Wendy declared, delighted. She was so happy to be able to take care of Peter. She took the cup from him. “Oh! I almost forgot to give you your medicine.” Wendy reached for the little bottle of medicine, and took a spoonful out.

Obediently, Peter opened his mouth and took the medicine. He was always very good for Wendy, and he liked the way she looked after him. She kissed the top of his head and disappeared with the cup, to fix him some more tea. It was a good thing Tinker Bell was still hiding with the boys for the game of hide-and-seek.

Or… maybe not! Tinker Bell rushed into the room, pixie dust dashing around everywhere in her frenzy!

“Tink? What’s the matter?” Peter furrowed his brows in concern. He watched and listened intently as Tinker Bell explained that Captain Hook had captured Cubby, Tootles, Nibs, and the Twins, and was demanding that Peter Pan come to battle him for their release. Apparently they had stumbled upon some treasure he had buried for safekeeping.

“Let’s go.” Peter stood up quickly, grabbing his dagger and putting it safely in his holster. “Wendy?” He couldn’t leave without letting the lovely girl know where he was going. “I’ve gotta go get the Lost Boys back from Hook. Be back in a jiffy!” And with that, he took off with Tink before Wendy could protest.

“What are we going to do with him?” Wendy sighed, shaking her head at Slightly, who was packing up his doctor bag. 

✨

A Losing Battle

By the time they had reached the Jolly Roger, Peter was feeling dizzy and sick to his stomach from flying. He landed up on a high mast out of Hook’s view, to give himself a moment to breathe. Tinker Bell pouted in concern and brushed Peter’s bangs away from his forehead. The heat nearly burned her tiny hand. 

Once Peter felt a little less nauseous, he stood and announced his presence with a crow– “Coo-ka-roo-ka-roo!” Which he followed up with a wheezy cough. 

“Pan!!!” The boys cheered for joy.

Hook turned and snarled, looking up at the boy. Excellent, he was here not a moment too soon. Actually, he figured he would have been here before now. “Come down here boy, and fight me like a man!”

“With pleasure, Captain!” Peter retorted, flying down to come head-to-head with Hook, and drawing his dagger on the way.

As steel met steel, the fight was quickly underway, with each getting a chance at having the upper hand. But at this close range, Captain Hook could tell that the boy wasn’t feeling well. His nose was running, all the colour had drained from his face, and he looked exhausted. Peter sniffled in a desperate attempt to keep his nose from running, but it was a losing battle, hopefully unlike the one he was fighting against Hook.

Peter coughed into the air and Hook recoiled. “Eww!” He snarled at Peter in disgust, giving the boy a once-over. Somehow, fighting a sick boy felt like bad form. Peter looked miserable, and it sparked some form of… pity? in the captain. He couldn’t continue the fight.

“… You know what? … Go home, Pan.” With one fell swoop, Hook cut the ropes loose, freeing the Lost Boys. “And take your germs with you! We’ll continue this another day.” 

Peter was shocked, but relieved. He really just wanted to go to sleep right now. The boy searched Captain Hook’s face for any hint of trickery. “Honest?” He asked, to be sure.

“I insist. Go on boy, before I change my mind.” Hook replied, although of course, this was just to keep up the fear of himself. 

Springing into action, Tinker Bell sprinkled the five Lost Boys with pixie dust, and they began to fly. The Twins each took Peter by an arm, helping him home. “C’mon Peter!” one of them said, tugging him along.

Peter, too sick at this point to keep up appearances, could only smile gratefully at their kindness. Tinker Bell sprinkled him with a little extra pixie dust to help his sick self home. 

✨

Goodnight, Peter

As nighttime fell upon Never Land, Peter Pan was tucked into his hammock, with the warm bearskin blanket over top of him again. His fever had broken, and the Lost Boys and Tink were all happily tucked into their beds as well. Only Wendy was up and about. Peter watched Wendy, the only mother he ever cared to have, with so much love in his warm brown eyes. He felt so grateful to have her, although he didn’t know how to express it, or even how to acknowledge it. 

“You’ve had quite a day, Peter,” Wendy spoke softly, warmly, as she brushed her fingers through his fluffy, red hair. He loved when she did this. “And you’ve been very brave.” Wendy administered one more dose of medicine to him, which he took with a little hum. Wendy’s medicine was really only water blended with some berries, for real nutritional value. She screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it on the little table nearby. 

“Wendy?” Peter’s hoarse voice croaked softly.

She turned to him, smiling gently. “Yes Peter?” 

“Will you come lay with me?” He asked simply.

Wendy’s heart fluttered with joy. “I’ll be glad to.”

And so, Wendy crawled into bed with Peter, and rested her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. He wouldn’t dream of letting her go, and she was happy this way.

“Goodnight, Wendy…”

“Goodnight, Peter. Feel better, sweet boy.” 

✨

[trivialbob]

Today was nice.

It started at the ridiculous hour of 4:30 AM. I woke feeling rested, and couldn’t fall back asleep. So I got up, put on my thickest wool socks, made a hot breakfast sandwich and coffee, then read for a while. I adore the peace and quiet of the house when I’m the only one awake. Super warm feet help too.

The dogs had come downstairs with me, albeit briefly. These canine idiots can’t read a clock or a thermometer. Like there’s any way we’re going to the dog park three hours before sunrise and in -1°F weather. Eventually they sauntered back upstairs to snuggle with still sleeping Sheila.

Around 10:00 AM I got tired. So I took an hour long nap. Delightful. When I woke for the second time today I began to get ready for the day’s mission.

This week Sheila and I got a new sectional couch. It’s dog friendly, with stronger and washable fabric. @littlerunnergurl has the same brand and recommended it to Sheila. I like the new furniture, denying me a chance to say something awful about LRG’s taste or LRG in general, though she could check with me too and not just my wife.

Jack claimed our outgoing sectional, to replace his conventional couch (also something we gave him). Our BFF neighbors have a daughter moving back to Minnesota next week. She wants some furniture for her new apartment in St. Paul, so we brought that couch back for her.

In other words, planets had aligned.

The only downside to all this is that Sheila would not let me charge Jack or our neighbors’ daughter for the furniture. My thinking is these “kids” are adults and should pay for stuff. I was outvoted 1 to 1 though. Poor Bob, always giving, never profiting.

Sheila, her brother, and I loaded the sectional into my truck. My BIL left and our neighbors joined us for a trip to Jack’s house (75 minutes away). The four of us had fun talking and stopping for lunch.

At Jack’s house we brought the sectional inside, then loaded the outgoing couch into my truck. On the way back to the Twin Cities we stopped at a cool winery and distillery outside of St. Peter, MN. I tried a flight of three red wines that I enjoyed. The others tried different things too. We weren’t hungry but the pizzas made there were tempting.

Then we motored back to the Twin Cities, with another hour long ride of good conversation. Now I’m home, trying to type this while Sulley dogs demands attention.