#i feel like when i discovered i had all these food allergies i just cut out stuff without figuring out

[j-esbian]

not to make an egg custard tart/bean soup post, but i wish you could make tamales without corn 😭

[seiko-yume]

Bishop headcanons

This is a long post, so I'll cut it here for anyone who isn't interested.

EDIT: added Narinder since he's technically a bishop too, and I have a few more HCs for him that I didn't make during the time of the Narinder and Lamb HCs.

Leshy

Physical age is stuck in his early 20's

Absolutely minuscule in size compared to the other bishops and followers (Shorter than Heket and Lamb)

Likes to put his hands in a raptor formation

Hates being touched in any manner (ex: being pet, or picked up)

Experiences sensory overload more often than before becoming a follower due to his heightened sense of smell and hearing when he went blind.

Burrows underground when he feels discomfort, or on the verge of a meltdown.

Vegan, cannot digest meat or any animal food product.

Enjoys gardening, even though he can't see. He likes the different smells and textures of plants.

Extremely quick to resort to violence in disagreements with other followers.

Goes apeshit over rain (he really likes rain)

Heket

VERY subtly petty, and knows exactly what'll make you tick.

Can crack open an ostrich egg in one punch

Will absolutely hold her own on a crusade, without being turned into a demon.

Learned sign language from the Lamb, since speaking causes her pain.

Transgender MtF

Food-motivated, loves to cook. Developed from a famine-causing goddess to hating seeing any follower go hungry.

The only one in the Old Faith family without any kind of food allergy, or dietary restriction.

Heavyset build. Height is similar to Narinder's

Sleeps long hours, and is late to nearly every sermon.

Exclusively T4T due to bad experience with transphobic people.

Physical age is stuck at 25

Loves bathing and soaking in water.

Narinder

Middle child syndrome (gets forgotten by the other bishops, but is legally allowed to bonk them for it.)

While chained, his legs were broken to prevent him from escaping easily. They weren't able to heal correctly. He currently uses forearm crutches, or a cane to get around.

Second tallest next to Shamura

Very thin build from naturally high metabolism. Heket tries to feed him more, but his body just turns it all into pure rage instead of fat.

Demiboy. Uses both he/him and she/her pronouns.

Lactose intolerant, but eats dairy-based dessert anyways. Constantly has IBS from this and can fill an outhouse halfway. Followers beg him to stop eating dairy (he doesn't and earned the "Poopshitter" nickname from Lamb.)

Severe allergy to fish and shellfish.

Likes to do makeup, and is actually really artsy with it.

Had an emo phase (and still is)

Severe guilt and self-loathing around his siblings. Feelings of guilt are especially intense around Shamura. Shamura tries their best every day to show him that they forgive him.

Gets stuck in a tree at least twice a week

Kalamar

The most dramatic of cult drama-queens. There's a new crisis happening with him every week.

Got a septum piercing after learning he couldn't reattach his amputated (pierced) ears.

Refuses to learn sign language, despite being deaf. He's exceptionally well at reading lips, however.

Monologues about how handsome, and beautiful his temple was, usually to himself because he doesn't realize that other members had walked away.

Accidentally discovered Narinder had a deadly allergy to seafood while Nari was a kitten. (He had to babysit him, and fed him fish stew because he thought cats liked fish.)

Doesn't like to do assigned work in the cult, but enjoys forging weapons and jewelry.

Very picky eater. Almost everything makes him sick. No known food allergies, but is known to be intolerant to meat, fish, dairy, certain vegetables, mushrooms, most fruits, and bread. He usually eats cauliflower soup to stay on the safe side.

Had several near-death experiences due to illness as a child.

Very lithe and underweight. Tentacles give the illusion of being heavier than average.

Physical age is stuck at 33.

Shamura

Severe migraines and memory problems.

Tries to dissent against the Lamb due to often forgetting the entire chunk of their life from Narinder's betrayal to dying at the hands of the Lamb.

Has crying fits upon recalling parts of their life they forgot, and fears the next time they'll forget.

Clings to the other siblings, needing constant physical reassurance they're still alive. They're unable to sleep alone.

Had to re-learn basic motor skills including how to speak when they were first indoctrinated.

Knits and crochets in their spare time.

Likes to watch dance circles, but avoids any activity that might cause a migraine.

Allergic to camellia flowers. Avoids farming and seeking the medbay when sick.

Taller than Narinder (HC Narinder is the tallest member before his siblings were indoctrinated)

AFAB

Has always yearned to become a parent during the time they were a god, but could never bear any children due to being infertile. When they found several infant gods, they couldn’t help but take them under their wing.

Physical age is stuck at 40

[kerwynlar]

Apple Crumble by KerwynLar

A couple of people liked Fire Alarm, so I’m continuing the story of Birch and Cal. You don’t have to have read that one but it will make this one make more sense.

Birch and Cal’s first date has an indulgent end.

Birch was reading on the couch when there was a knock on the door. They marked their place in the book and went to look out the peephole. They smiled when they saw it was Cal and quickly opened the door. 

“Hi!” they said cheerfully. 

“Oh great, you’re home!” Cal gave a relieved smile. 

“How are you feeling?” Birch asked. 

“One hundred percent better, thanks for asking. I just needed to digest. Actually,” Cal held up the tote bag he was carrying, “I came to say thank you.” Cal pulled a pretty bouquet of flowers out of the bag. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got you these,” he handed Birch the flowers and pulled a fancy-looking bottle of wine out of the bag, “and this,” he handed over the wine and pulled out a box of chocolates, “and these. Feel free to re-gift any or all of this.” 

Birch laughed. “Oh my gosh, Cal, this is too much!” 

“Are you, like, allergic to chocolate or flowers or wine?” Cal asked. 

“No, no allergies.” Birch smiled. “I like all of this, thanks!” 

“No, thank you,” Cal said. “I was so miserable last night and you really, really helped me.” 

“I’m glad,” Birch said warmly. “I’m very glad I could help.” 

“Um,” Cal rubbed the back of his neck, “would you still want to grab dinner with me sometime?”

“Yeah,” Birch said eagerly. “I would love that.”

Read the rest below the cut or on AO3.

Cal had picked a restaurant a couple of blocks from the apartment that was nice but not too fancy. The food was very good, as were the cocktails that they both had. Birch discovered that Cal was only shy before he was comfortable with someone, and Birch’s help the night of the fire alarm had definitely made him comfortable with Birch. Cal was animated and engaging, as well as an excellent listener. He seemed genuinely interested in everything Birch had to say and asked thoughtful questions. 

They talked about their names. Birch told Cal about how part of their process of coming out as nonbinary was agonizing over what to change their name to. Their deadname was completely gendered and they had always hated it. Ultimately they settled on Birch because they liked the association with nature and how it sounded. Cal said the name suited them and Birch blushed. 

Cal told Birch that his full name was Henry Calvin Peterson III. He was largely estranged from his family and the idea of going by his given name left a bad taste in his mouth, so he had picked his favorite syllable and went with it. 

They talked about their jobs. Cal sheepishly admitted that he really only used his library card to download e-books and audio books, and Birch assured him - as a librarian - that that was fine but did encourage him to check out some of the events the library put on. 

Birch took some convincing that Cal’s job as an accountant was interesting, but the way Cal’s face lit up when he talked about it was hard to deny. 

“All of my clients are small businesses,” Cal explained. “I get to help them balance their priorities and make decisions that set them up for success. Tax season sucks, but otherwise I really do love it.” 

“What do you do for fun besides reading?” Cal asked as they were finishing their meals. 

“I love cooking,” Birch smiled. “Trying new recipes is so much fun. But my favorite thing is cooking for other people. The look on someone’s face when they enjoy something I’ve made is the biggest high in the world for me.”

Cal cleared his throat. “Is this an awkward time for me to mention that I love eating and washing dishes?” 

“Bullshit,” Birch laughed, “no one loves washing dishes.” 

“I do, I swear!” Cal said. “I find cleaning in general really soothing.” 

“There’s got to be a connection to enjoying being an accountant there,” Birch said, resting their chin on their hand. 

Cal chuckled. “Probably. I like putting things in order.” 

“You said you like eating, do you like cooking?” 

Cal shrugged. “I can cook. Like I can competently follow a recipe. But it’s not really something I enjoy spending time on. When I cook for myself it’s always pretty basic.” 

“You’d rather do the washing up,” Birch said with a grin. 

“Kind of!” Cal smiled back at them. 

Birch sat back and pushed their mostly empty plate away from them. “Do you have room for dessert?” 

“Mm hmm,” Cal took the last bite of his dinner. “I - uh - can put away a lot of food. Definitely room for dessert.” 

“I had some apples that were about to go bad, so I made an apple crumble this morning. It just needs a few minutes in the oven. Want to come back to my place?” 

“That sounds amazing,” Cal enthused. 

“You don’t have to answer this,” Birch said as they were walking back to the apartment building, “and I probably shouldn’t be asking, but do you know what caused your stomach ache the night of the fire alarm?” 

Cal grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I do.” 

“You definitely don’t have to tell me,” Birch said quickly.  

“No, I don’t mind,” Cal said. “It was kind of the fire alarm.” 

“Your stomach reacts to loud noises?” Birch tried. 

Cal chuckled. “No, my stomach reacts to hustling down three flights of stairs when it’s really, really full. I had eaten a … very big dinner. If I had been able to just lie on my couch for the night like I had planned it would have been great. As it was …” he shrugged, “I’m just lucky that you saw I wasn’t feeling well and decided to help. Obviously I wasn’t going to die or anything but I would have felt a lot worse without you.” 

“Hm,” Birch mused, “we’ll have to figure out a way for me to cook you a big meal and you to do the washing up without upsetting your stomach.” 

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Cal smiled. 

“Oh wow, that smells incredible,” Cal said, his mouth starting to water, as Birch pulled the large rectangular baking pan of apple crumble out of the oven. The crumb topping was perfectly golden brown and a few wisps of steam rose from the pan. 

“Looks incredible too,” Cal said, watching Birch scoop a large portion into a bowl and top it with vanilla ice cream. 

“I hope the taste lives up to it!” Birch said, serving themself a smaller portion. 

With his first bite, Cal closed his eyes and let out an “mmmm.” The apples were soft but not mushy. The crumble was not overly sweet and added just enough crunch while the syrup was the perfect combination of sugar and cinnamon. The heat of the apple crumble balanced with the cold sweetness of the ice cream made it the perfect mouthful. Cal quickly took a few more bites before looking up at Birch. 

“This. Is. Amazing,” he said. 

Birch chuckled. “It’s just apple crumble.” They blushed. 

“It is the best apple crumble I have ever tasted,” Cal insisted, taking another bite. “What’s the little bit of tartness?” 

“Ooh, sensitive palate,” Birch beamed. “There’s a touch of lemon juice in there to keep it from getting too sweet.” 

“Perfect,” Cal said, tucking back in. 

“Oh my god, I could eat this whole pan,” Cal moaned as he finished a second helping of the apple crumble. 

Birch chuckled. “I would love that.” 

“Wait, really?” Cal looked at them wonderingly. 

“I mean … yeah,” Birch’s brow furrowed, “Wait, were you serious about eating the whole thing?”

“I could be,” Cal said. 

“Really?”

“I have a lot of stomach capacity and I really like feeling full.” Cal eyed up the pan. “Eating this much after dinner would be a lot, even for me, especially because it’s sweet, but I could do it. And it’s so good, I want to do it.” 

Birch’s cheeks had taken on a bright flush. “You … you want to stuff yourself on something I made?” 

“Yeah,” Cal said, holding eye contact with them, “I really do.”

Birch’s breath hitched as they pushed the pan towards him. 

Two-thirds of the way through the pan, Cal put down his spoon and sat back, rubbing a hand over his stomach.

“Done?” Birch asked, smiling brightly but fighting down a twinge of disappointment that they knew was ridiculous. The man had eaten an incredible amount of the dessert. Saying he would eat it all was probably a boast, and a sweet one. Birch knew that they should appreciate that. 

Cal burped into his fist a couple times, then patted his belly, which was starting to look a little rounder. He gave Birch a lopsided smile. 

“I told you I was going to eat it all,” he said. “Just taking a breather.” 

“Oh!” Birch said, feeling their cheeks flush again. “Great!” 

Birch and Cal had been chatting as Cal ate, but as he approached the end of the pan and seemed to be struggling a little, Birch let the conversation trail off, preferring to watch with rapt attention as Cal lifted each bite to his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Birch was certain that every time Cal leaned back for a breather his belly looked a little rounder. When at last Cal took the final bite and sat back with a huff, his belly was pushing heavily against the buttons of his shirt.

Cal closed his eyes and rubbed his belly with a groan. “Oh that feels good. That was so delicious, Birch. I feel amazing.” He covered his mouth as he burped. “Excuse me.” 

Birch knew their eyes were wide and they were probably blushing all the way up to their ears. “You really ate it all in one sitting!” they breathed. 

Cal burped again. “Mm hmm.” He opened his eyes to look at Birch then rubbed his hand in a wide circle over his rounded belly. “Every bite tasted fantastic and it feels wonderful and warm in here.”

“Does … does your stomach hurt?” 

Cal considered this. “Sort of? But it’s the kind of hurt that feels good if that makes sense.” He paused for another burp. “I love this feeling.” Cal patted his belly with a sleepy smile. 

“Could I rub your belly?” The question left Birch’s lips before they could stop themself. 

“Oh my god,” Cal chuckled. “Feeding me the most amazing apple crumble I’ve ever tasted and then rubbing my tummy? Careful, you’ll never get rid of me.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’ll never want to.” Birch took an alarmed breath and looked at Cal’s face. That was almost certainly way too forward a thing to say, it was way too soon. But Cal just gave them another sleepy smile. 

Swallowing, Birch pulled their chair up beside Cal’s and tentatively placed their hand over the area where Cal’s belly swelled out from under his ribs. They thought they could feel some gurgling movement within and they started to rub a gentle circle. They were transfixed. Cal’s belly was swollen with something they made. Birch had just made it as an afterthought to try to use up some fruit before it spoiled but Cal had liked it enough to eat every bite of it until his belly was round  with it. 

Birch came back to themself as Cal put his hand over theirs and guided it a little lower down on his belly. 

“A little pressure there, if you don’t mind,” Cal said quietly, and Birch quickly massaged the spot, realizing that the muscles felt tighter there. 

Cal leaned his head back against the wall behind his seat and gave a quiet, relieved groan. “Perfect, thank you.” 

Birch felt a bubbling gurgle under their hands and Cal quickly turned his head away and covered his mouth before belching deeply. “Excuse me,” he said. 

After that Birch used both hands to seek out tight spots over the swell of Cal’s belly, producing pleased sighs, burps, and relieved groans in equal measure. 

“This is heaven,” Cal murmured eventually, “but I should really get home.” 

“Do you feel ok?” Birch asked. 

“Incredible,” Cal smiled at them. “I feel incredible.” 

“Is walking to your apartment going to make you feel not incredible anymore?” 

Cal noticed that Birch got a cute line between their eyebrows when they worried. “After that belly rub?” he grinned. “Nah, I’m all set. And I’m taking that pan with me.” 

“What?” Birch’s look of worry turned to confusion. 

“The pan that the crumble was in,” Cal paused to burp, “I’m taking it back to my apartment with me so that I can wash it for you and return it tomorrow.” 

Birch rolled their eyes. “You don’t have to do that, Cal.” 

“I want to,” Cal insisted. “Returning it will give me the opportunity to ask you out again.” 

[alderaani]

prison break (echo x reader)

A valentines gift for @just-some-girl-92 as part of the event being run by @starwarsfandomfests! Thanks so much for putting another one of these together @lilhawkeye3, and I really hope you like this Dell! I think credit for white haired Echo goes to @/amiro-art? That was the first place I saw it anyway, and I’ve really liked the headcanon that it’s like that post-techno union ever since!

Based on this prompt: Character A moves in next to Character B. They have conjoined balconies and A's pet/child wanders into B's apartment.

Fives and Echo are both reunited and well in this because everyone gets to be happy on Valentine’s Day and I said so. We don’t need canon on this blog.

The other side of the wall explodes with noise. 

It makes you pause, looking up from the knitting trailing over your knees to cock your head towards the opposite apartment. You think you hear the screech of furniture legs being pushed along the floor, then the frantic rumble of several male voices speaking over the top of each other, the clatter and clang of things as they are removed and replaced.

It’s odd. When Tith-Mar lived next door, you used to hear it every time he coughed, or swore at that awful old holodrama he used to watch every Taungsday. As much as you tried to stop yourself you couldn’t help but get invested, and that was almost worse. Out of pride you never put it on your own unit, but that just meant you ended up half pressed against the wall, eventually not even pretending you weren’t listening to Capula and Mont confess their love. It had given you something to talk about, anyway, when you went onto the balcony to water your plants and he went out there to smoke the fancy deathsticks he joked he’d live and die by.

In the year since the war ended and Tith-Mar was finally able to move back out to be with his daughter on Ryloth you’ve never quite gotten used to the quiet. There was a strange comfort in knowing that there was someone on the other side of the wall. Maybe it came from the three years of water shortages and occasional outages - or, notably, the rampage of the Zillo beast, which hadn’t come quite close enough to flatten you in your sleep, but had downed enough of the power grid that you’d been locked in your apartment for five rotations. You miss the soft Rylothi folk music he used to play in the mornings, and you miss seeing him sometimes, blowing smoke up into the brisk Coruscant mornings with his blue lek, faded now in old age, wrapped around his neck like a scarf.

You just miss the comforting assurance of having someone else there. If it wasn’t for the sound of the door going, and the occasional thump of something being moved, you’d hardly know that you had neighbours at all now. It’s almost funny to think back on the furore it caused when the Republic bought the apartment for GAR resettlement. It led to the only neighbourhood meeting the building has ever had, and you’ve been very glad for that fact after discovering that a solid faction of your fellow citizens are bigots. It’s something you knew, objectively, but witnessing it from the people you personally rub shoulders with was a harder pill to swallow than having to watch some of the anti-clone protests on the holonews. You’ve not tried to remember the more colourful misconceptions about clone troopers aired by prim soft-handed mid-levellers as they sat in a lobby you can remember the Coruscant Guard clearing rubble from with nothing but their hands. However, you do very vividly remember someone from two floors up asking you if you’d ‘really feel safe’ living next to ‘those walking warmongers’, being young and living on your own. You’d shut that down, of course, and the resulting vote had passed in favour.

You’d honestly half expected the troopers to reject the place after that, and you wouldn’t have blamed them either. 

Everyone had known the day they moved in, had pretended not to watch as a GAR issue speeder loaded with two armoured figures and a meagre quantity of possessions had pulled up on the walkway and made their way cautiously inside. You’d thought about introducing yourself, knocking or something, but concluded in the end that they didn’t need anyone else ogling them. You’d figured that there would be plenty of time for that later...and now here you are, a whole year on, and that glimpse is just about the closest you’ve ever gotten to them. You think they still spend a lot of time off-planet, helping with the reconstruction missions the now-voluntary GAR conducts throughout the Mid and Outer Rims. You hadn’t even been sure that they were home at the moment, actually. 

There’s no doubting it now, as the frantic thumps and raised voices continue. Through your balcony door, cracked open to catch some of the soft breeze the weather engineers have scheduled today, you can make out a little of what their voices are saying, one frantic and forceful, the other softer, but no less worried.

“ - kriffing hell, can’t believe we’ve lost...Rex will have our heads…”

“...can’t have gotten far...can’t even walk!”

“ - already checked the fresher, Echo!”

“It can’t hurt to check twice...knew we shouldn’t have…”

You bite your lip, turning round while debating whether you should offer your help. Then you freeze. The baby on the other side of your caf table freezes too, chubby hand poised to grab the cookie you’d been saving for later. They’re standing on legs that wobble a bit, and there’s a glint of steely determination in the dark eyes that fix on your face. 

“Hello,” you say a little weakly, realising very abruptly what the troopers must have lost.

The kid appraises you for a moment longer, brow furrowed and intent. There’s a huge amount of judgement there for such a small face, those focused eyes taking you in for several very long seconds. Then they huff, and very deliberately turn their attention back to the cookie. You smother an incredulous laugh. 

“Not impressed, huh?” You say, carefully setting your knitting aside and uncovering your legs. “Can’t say I blame you, I prefer cookies too.”

The baby doesn’t dignify this with any attention, instead making a soft crowing noise as their little fingers strike victory and retract with the cookie firmly in grasp. When they immediately move to cram it into their mouth you burst into action, leaning across the caf table to swipe it. Just those mere seconds of contact have made it slightly damp. 

The baby’s face scrunches in outrage, and they let go of the table edge, sinking down onto their padded bottom with a sharp, high noise of annoyance. They don’t cry, but the frown is something spectacular.

“Sorry, kid.” You force yourself the rest of the way up, keeping a hold on the cookie with one hand. Can kids this young even eat solid foods yet? Do they have any allergies? You don’t have any siblings, so the last time you were around a baby was when you were one. For all this one’s bravado, they look awfully breakable. “I’ll hang on to this for now, yeah?”

You don’t think that they’re old enough to understand what you’re saying, but the huff the baby lets out feels extremely pointed. You stare down at them on your rug.

“Don’t suppose you could give me any pointers on how to hold you?”

It turns out babies are wriggly. You put the cookie down long enough to hoist the kid into your arms and attempt to manoeuvre their little arms and legs so that they’re not jabbing into your vital organs, but at the sight of the food being placed far away, the kid lets out a piercing noise, right into your ear, and attempts to kamikaze their way back to it. A body that two seconds ago was ramrod solid and deliberately unwieldy is suddenly boneless and impossible to hold onto. Your brain goes empty of everything but wrestling with several pounds of struggling infant. 

You end up on the floor, eventually, but at least both of you are in one piece. You’re breathing heavily. The kid’s face is thunderous. It’s very cute, but you can’t wait to give it back and appreciate that from a distance. Somehow, you manage to settle them onto your hip.

“What the f - heck was that for?” You ask, purely to make yourself feel better. Even if the kid could answer you, you get the feeling they simply wouldn’t. “Was it because I put the biscuit down?”

The kid makes a huffing noise. You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling. The baby’s dark, just-curling hair is soft against the skin of your upper arm, and their weight is warm and solid against your side. 

“I’m not taking it away from you. I’m gonna let you have it, just need to make sure it’s safe for womp-rats first. And return you before those poor guys tear their place apart, okay?”

You re-collect the cookie and struggle back to your feet, looking towards the open balcony. Visions flash through your mind of the baby pulling that boneless trick out there, with nothing but spacelanes separating them from the ground 50 stories below, and...no. You’re not even vaguely risking that. The front door is definitely the better option, but somehow more daunting, as you stand before the neighbouring apartment with your heart in your throat.

The second you knock, the frantic voices inside cut off abruptly, and then you hear the mad scramble that ensues to reach the door. It wooshes open, and suddenly you’re face to face with your neighbours for the first time. 

They’re less identical than you’d expected. Maybe that’s a stupid thought, but it’s the first one that stumbles, half formed and dazed, into the open void your brain has just become. The second, very unhelpful follow up, is that they’re also much prettier than you’d expected. Not that you’d necessarily expected anything, but - you’ve never seen one of the clones without their helmets before. The Corrie Guard, back during the war, had made a point of never taking them off as far as you’d ever seen. That was apparently a crying shame. One of them has thick, dark curly hair, a tidy goatee, and a tattoo on his forehead. The other’s hair is a sharp, startling white, interrupted by metal nodes of some sort. Some sort of post-war medical adaptation, you assume. He’s slightly leaner all over, his eyes a little larger in his face. But the way both of them sag against the door frame is exactly the same.

“Thank the fucking force,” The dark haired one breathes, clutching at his chest.

The other trooper elbows him sharply in the ribs. “Fives.”

“She’s ten months old, Echo. She’s not gonna repeat it.”

“She just escaped from our apartment after General Skywalker swore up and down she’s not mobile yet. It’s gonna be her first word just to spite us.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself and flush a little when all attention snaps back to you.

“That I can believe,” you force yourself to say. “Hi. I think I found something of yours.”

You hold out your armful of infant and - you presume Fives is his name - reaches out to take her, groaning in relief. 

“Thank you,” he says, fervent, taking a moment to bury his face into the child’s hair. She puts a determined thumb into her mouth and stares at your hand, still clutching the cookie. The trooper turns her in his arms and holds her up at eye level. “You are a menace, Leia. I thought we were gonna have to call in a search.”

It’s nice to have a name for that little displeased face. Leia regards the trooper for a moment before sticking her hand into his face. His eyes are impossibly warm as he pretends to gobble her fingers, and it is, quite frankly, cute as fuck. He turns his attention back to you, but just as he opens his mouth, the sound of a comm going off somewhere behind them cuts through the moment.

“That’ll be the General,” The white-haired trooper laughs. “You better take her and show him, before he raises down half of Coruscant trying to get here.”

Fives nods, flashing another blinding grin at you, before he and Leia are gone. The trooper you’re left with blows out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face. 

“Well,” he says, his mouth crooking into a wry smile. “That was exciting.” 

He sticks his hand out, and when you take it, his palm is rough and his grip firm. You give him your name without thinking about it, staring into the kind, golden depths of his eyes. They crinkle at the corners when he grins. 

“I’m Echo. And - I know Fives already said it, but seriously, thank you. Where the shab did you find her?”

“Trying to steal biscuits from my caf table,” you say, laughing openly when Echo drops his face back into his hand and groans with embarrassment. “I think she got in through the balcony door.”

“Force, we didn’t even think of that. What a first impression, you must think we’re idiots.” 

You shake your head, enamoured by the faint colour you can see rising in his cheeks. He brings his metal hand up to his face and presses the cool prosthetic against his skin. 

“Not at all. You should have seen the look she gave me when I found her, she knows she’s in charge.” 

Echo smiles bashfully. “It’s the first time we’ve ever won the lot to babysit the twins, our Company would have crucified us if we’d lost her.” 

“Then I’m very glad to have provided a rescue.” 

There’s a short silence as you fidget with your sleeves, strange anticipation churning in your gut. There’s no reason to keep standing here now that the pleasantries are done with, the baby exchanged, but...some part of you resists it, almost looking for an excuse to stay. He and Fives are the first new friendly faces you’ve met in a long time, soothing a sting you didn’t know was there.

“I - um -,” Echo begins suddenly, shifting a little. The colour in his face deepens. “I really like your plants. I’ve always meant to say something. We keep trying to guess what they are.” 

“Oh!” Your heart turns over in your chest and you wouldn’t be able to stop the smile bursting onto your face if you tried. Those damn things are so hard to keep alive through the unpredictable engineered weather. You don’t think you’re particularly house proud, but you do preen a little that he’s noticed. “Thank you, I, um, I water them every morning. I could...go through them with you one day? If you like?” 

Echo’s head dips an assent. “I’d really like that.” 

You linger a moment longer, a pleased thrill still lingering in your belly, but there’s no putting it off now. “I suppose I should let you go. But...please knock if you need anything.” 

Echo smiles. “Hopefully not in pursuit of any more babies.” 

You’re just about to turn away when you remember the cookie in your hand, slightly smushed now. “Oh! Can you give this to Leia? I wanted to make sure she could eat them, first, but I promised. Seemed only fair, since she went to all that trouble.” 

Echo huffs, his expression softening, taking the cookie with careful hands. “I’ll make sure her highness gets it.” 

Then you go back to your quiet apartment, somehow deflated when faced with the monotony of your knitting and your music. You hear a few more sounds from the other side of the wall, faint laughter, perhaps a child squealing, and find your curiosity has not been sated at all.

It’s a wonderful surprise, then, when two days later on a clear, sunlit morning, you slide open your balcony door to water the plants and find Echo waiting, his face tipped up to the brightening sky. There is a packet of cookies resting on the duracrete by his feet, and two steaming mugs of caf on the railing by his elbow. 

It feels like something special...It feels like a beginning. 

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @battletales @bad-batch-of-fics @iscream4clones @majorshiraharu @snippytano @missinashkin @808tsuika @eries45 @dom-i-nic // 

[innaminitus]

To meet you again

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Request:  Hey! May I request Geralt x reader? Maybe where the reader is a commoner in the kingdom, and while Geralt is there to kill a monster, him and the reader keep crossing paths? But get this: the reader is extremely clumsy and every time they cross paths it’s because of the reader tripping, or running into him, etc ya know? It gets to the point where Geralt starts making small offhand comments about her clumsiness and she shows that she’s actually pretty damn feisty. I’m so excited! Thank you hun! (from @badass-dora-milaje​)

and

Hello there. I read your beautiful lake story and just fell in love with your writing style. So I'd like to request a story if I may: Geralt & reader meet up time and time again. She somehow always helps him out (calms a mob, heals his wounds, gives the missing coin he needs) and she's always kind to him. There may be underlying tension between the two, but she doesn't act on it. There is a change in their dynamics though when she endangers her life while trying to help him again and anger and worry finally make him react, pushing her against a wall and showing her how much he truly cares. Now I'd like to leave it up to you if the smut is passionate and either sweet or more angry. I hope this is okay as a request? Thanks so much for sharing your work and doing this! Regards V (from @superconfusedandreadytorumble​)

Warnings: smut, language, angst

Word count: 3034

A/N: I didn’t proffread it because i’m a lazy ass 

You were… just a nobody, really. Just a clumsy girl, who happened to have just enough healing abilities to help with cuts and burns in the town.

Somehow he always crossed paths with you.

You were picking up the herbs in the forest, finally unbothered. It was the beginning of spring, and the door to your house almost never closed. People were storming you with colds and allergies, sometimes knocking on your door at night. Mothers were… overprotective, bothering you when their sons barely sneezed. In the forest you could finally rest, breathe fresh air and be alone for a change. No one walked that deep into the forest, afraid they might meet leshy and his monsters; you’ve never met him, though and doubted he actually lived in the forest.

That is, until you heard sounds of a fight. Frozen in place, you were too afraid to move. A cry of a beast mixed with hoarse screams and clings of steel, followed by sudden silence. Someone, or something moved for the last time and hit the ground. You waited for any sign that, whoever it was, was still alive.

“Ahh… Fuck.”

Well, that almost definitely was a sound of being alive.

You rushed in the direction of the voice, whose owner, thankfully wasn’t far. A man was on the ground, leaning on the tree, pressing his hand on his thigh. In front of him lied a beast, its horny head detached from its body, slimy blood spilled all over the clearing. Your stomach flew to your throat, but you managed not to vomit at the sight. One deep breath and you looked back at the man. He was bleeding as well, but the difference between him and leshy was that he was still alive.

You walked to him slowly, he turned to you when you stepped on a twig.

“Who are you?” He asked in between sharp breaths. His hair was white and his eyes were oddly yellow.

“A healer. I can help you.” You kneeled next to him and looked at the wound on his thigh. It was deep, and he was losing a lot of blood. You pulled at the hem of your dress and ripped a long stripe, then tied it firmly above the wound. “Come, you need to get up. My home is not far away.”

You held him while he clumsily got up, and supported him while you walked out of the forest.

“So what’s your name, healer?”

“Y/N. And yours?”

“Geralt.”

That was the first time you’ve met Geralt. You healed his wound and said goodbye, believing it was the last time you’d see the white-haired man.

How foolish of you.

He passed your village multiple times, since beasts seemed to adore the forests and swamps surrounding it, and soon the Witcher was a frequent guest in town.

You were reading a book. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t see him, it was the fault of the heroine in the story, who was making the worst decision of her life.

It wasn’t a pretty picture, really. Geralt was talking to someone, and you just didn’t bother to look above your book. You smashed onto him, hitting him with the book, and hurting your nose badly on his broad back.

“Ouch…”

“What the hell are you doing?” He turned angrily, but his presence softened once he saw you. Not for long, as it seemed, since he started laughing at your miserable form, holding your nose with your palms and tears building in your eyes. He picked up the book you dropped. “I think that’s yours.”

That was the second time. You’ve had pleasant conversation with him, and discovered he also liked books, but haven’t had the time to read them anymore. Turned out he’s not just a pile of muscles and a nice voice.

Finally a day without a single patient. You could spend all calm day on the market, and unbothered buy food. Maybe you’d buy yourself a little treat, maybe a piece or two of peach pie…

You were buying apples when you heard a horse nearby. You smiled softly at Roach tied to a feeder near the inn and walked to her.

“Hello, Roach.” You caressed her head gently. She bumped your basket, full of fresh food. You fed her an apple. “And where’s your owner, huh?”

Suddenly you heard a loud noise in the inn and the door swung open.

“Witch– Witcher!” Geralt stormed out of the inn, the publican right behind him. You didn’t fail to notice how good the Witcher looked, his hair a mess and unbuttoned shirt. “Pay or I’ll swear my boys will kill you in your sleep.”

“You dare to threaten me?” Geralt turned back and faced the publican, who somehow got smaller under his burning sight.

“Geralt,” you called him, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s the problem?”

“He haven’t paid for his stay!” The publican shouted.

“I said I’ll pay later!”

“I don’t believe ya Witchers! One day you fuck a whore in my inn, the next day ya dead! And I am left with no money!”

“I’ll pay for him.” You gave the men a few coins.

“That’s not enough!”

“Well, remember about it the next time you drag your pregnant daughter to my house demanding an abortion. And I’ll maybe remember to not tell anyone about it.”

He reddened and, murmuring something under his nose, went back to the inn.

“Abortion?” Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“He has five daughters, and each one is rather frivolous.”

He untied Roach and turned to you.

“Thank you. I’ll repay you, I promise.”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But maybe next time you’re here, stay at my place.”

You tried not to show how many sinful thoughts flew through your head.

He stayed a few times, arriving at the evenings and leaving early in the morning. Unspoken tension between you was enough to keep him away. It wasn’t that you were disappointed, only you were… a little disappointed.

Snow was falling into your eyes as you were trying to make your way back home. You treated a boy with fever, not sure if he would survive the night. The cold was merciless, piercing you through, and you forgot your cloak when you run out to save the boy. Only a thick sweater was protecting you from wind and snow. You cursed your stupidity, dreaming of warm fireplace waiting for you. There was one more thing keeping you warm, but you didn’t really want to admit it to yourself. You just couldn’t help it that his eyes reminded you of the sun.

You stepped onto frozen mud, your poor excuse for shoes not protecting you from sliding all across the puddle. With a squirm you tripped on ice, and waved your hands, trying to catch stability, inefficaciously, only making your situation worse. You were sure to hit the ground, but someone’s warm arm wrapped around you, protecting you from it.

“Geralt,” you gasped, still hanging above the ground.

“Hello, Y/N,” he laughed and pulled you up.

Only this time it was different.

You just… had a feeling. A feeling that you should be out, even though it was night. You wandered around the town, this weird feeling in your guts not allowing you to rest. Your intuition was strong, due to your grandmother being a minor witch, and almost never let you down. It was an unsettling thought, piercing you through, that something bad was going to happen.

You didn’t notice that you left the town and mindlessly walked to the forest. Cold air soothed your burning cheeks and scent of wet grass hit your nostrils. You knew you wouldn’t get lost in this forest, you knew it better than you knew yourself, so you walked deeper, letting your intuition guide you.

Everything was oddly silent. No birds singing, not even the bugs working their way through the bushes. You could barely see in the darkness, but you didn’t need a good sight to feel the blood hanging in the air.

One, two, three vampires, and between them the whitehaired Witcher. You watched the scene with parted lips, as they hypnotized him, one already sucking blood out of Geralt.

You had to help him. A silver knife shone in the moonlight when you took it out of your pocket, glad you took it with yourself. You pressed the blade on your arm and with a deep breath cut the skin deeply, not allowing yourself to whine in pain.

“Blood.” One of the vampires shot his head up.

“Blood.”

“Blood.”

“Human.”

You kept squeezing your fist to pump more blood out of the wound.

“Hey, assholes,” you shouted. “How about a dessert?”

Two of them left Geralt and run to you with awful screams, and it was enough for the Witcher to free himself from their power. You didn’t see him killing the vampire still sucking his blood, the two beasts already knocked you down, their cold, dead lips locked on your neck.

A groan was the last thing you heard before you passed out.

The ground was shaking when you woke up. You were flying, you were sure of it. Was this how death felt?

Your eyelids felt awfully heavy when you opened your eyes, the stars were shining on the dark sky. You moved your head. You weren’t dead. You were still in the forest, in someone’s arms.

“Geralt…” Your throat was sore, you were barely able to make a sound.

His jaw was clenched when you looked at him.

“You are… Stupid. Irresponsible. Do you even understand how big of a danger that was?” His voice was shaking from anger, but he tried not to shout.

You moved in his arms.

“Did you kill them?” He nodded. “Geralt, we have to go back.” You tried to fall on the ground, but he was holding you too tight. “Geralt, we need to bury them, their heads apart from their bodies, with iron nails in their skulls… And sprinkle poppy seeds–“

“I did it.”

“What’s with the poppy seeds, though?” You were taking without any sense. “Like… I know they’re supposed to obsessively count them, but do they really do it?”

“I don’t know.��

“Are you mad at me? Don’t be mad at me, please.” You lifted your hand to touch, but it felt weightless. You had no feeling in your limbs, but you could move them. It must’ve been because of the loss of blood.

“Yes, I am mad at you. You should never put your life in danger, not for me, not for anyone else.”

“I wanted to help you.”

“You shouldn’t have. I was dealing with them perfectly fine without you.”

“No, you weren’t,” you snorted. “They were killing you, you needed my help.”

He stopped. You didn’t notice that you already left the forest and were standing in front of your house. He gently placed you on the ground, making sure you wouldn’t trip. Your head was dizzy, but you were able to open the door and walk inside. Familiar scent of candles and herbs soothed you.

“It would be much better if they killed me instead of hurting you,” you said, your back turned to him, as you lit the candles.

He held your arm, and pushed you against the nearby wall.

“No,” he said in a hoarse voice, anger glistening in his amber eyes. “Stop saying such stupid things.”

“Stop telling me I’m stupid!” You were over it. You helped him, and that’s how he thanks?

“How can I, if you obviously are?!”

“You shouldn’t save me then, leaving me as a meal would eliminate me from your life just fine!”

“You must have no idea what you’re saying.” His hands were clenched on your shoulders just like his jaw was clenched when he was talking to you with such anger.

“Enlighten me, then!”

It took him a split second to press his lips onto yours, and to melt you completely.

“Is that clear enough?” He asked in a husky voice, his face millimeters from yours.

“Not– Not really. You’d have to repeat that.”

Only you didn’t give him any time to repeat it, because you threw your arms over his neck and kissed him hurriedly, leaning on him, almost knocking him down. He smiled during the kiss, deepening it, his tongue slid into your mouth, inviting yours to play.

Within a second you forgot about everything, about the vampires, about how bad you felt after the attack. He was more than enough to make you forget.

He lifted you up, and bumped on a closet on the way to your bedroom, making you laugh, quickly silencing you with his tongue. Soon you felt cold sheets under your back, and Geralt’s fingers untying the ribbons of your dress. He slid the material down your shoulders, kissing every inch of the skin that was exposed to him.

He kissed your collarbone, lick the hollow underneath it, his tongue swiped down, to the delicate skin of your breasts and suddenly you weren’t in the mood for laughing. You sighed when he softly tugged the side of your breast, pulling the dress down, exposing your hardened nipples. With a silent groan he closed his warm mouth around one nipple, caressing it with the tip of his tongue. The other one he rolled in his fingers, releasing a moan from you, and you felt him smile at that sound. His big hands kneaded your breasts as he kissed the valley of them before sliding your dress even lower.

His lips never left your body as he made his way down, gently biting your waist, leaving a mark. By the time he got to your hips the heat between your legs was noticeable, just as how wet you were for him. He kissed one hipbone, then another, and ignoring your womanhood kept kissing until he reached your knee, and then, and only then he made his way up. In most torturous of ways he licked the skin of your inner thigh, left hot kisses above the wet trail and finally, after almost driving you crazy, reached your heat.

He didn’t plan to work his way fast. Oh no, he planned to feast on you.

He kissed your folds, yet that was enough to make you squirm. He stuck out his tongue and with just the tip licked a stripe through them, parting them for his warm lips.

“Mm,” he groaned against you “so wet already, and I haven’t even started properly.”

His deep voice was giving you goosebumps, but it was his tongue that made you grab his hair. He flattened it on your pussy, rubbing your clit and forcing a moan out of you. His hands massaged your thighs, but one of it slid to your folds, to the aching clit while he pushed his tongue into you. You arched your back as he worked you this way, his tongue in and out of you, his skilled fingers rubbing vicious circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Geralt, please, don’t stop,” you moaned time after time as he mercilessly drove you to the edge of sanity, forcing an orgasm out of you.

You were shaking as you came on his face, whispering pleads and his name, pleasure holding your throat tight enough for you to not scream. You mindlessly held his head pressed onto you, spasms of ecstasy making you come yet again around his tongue.

He pulled away, his wet mouth and chin glistened in the light of candles as he ripped his clothes and hovered over you. You kissed him, your taste spilled in your mouth as his tongue was dancing with yours.

You felt his hot shaft on your stomach, how it dripped on your skin, making you hungry for more, more of his body, more of his lips. He bucked his hips, caressing your overstimulated clit with his tip, collecting your slick. He slid into you easily, you caught his gasp in your mouth.

“So fucking tight,”  he whispered on your neck. “So marvelously tight…”

He pulled out only to push back in, and you were lost yet again, only now it was Geralt as well who lost control. As you expected, he wasn’t the one to be gentle.

He rammed into you like a wild animal, sounds of moans and wet bodies smacking filled the room and your ears. You reached above your head to hold the frame of the bed, but he had other plans. With sadistic smile he grabbed your wrists with one hand and held them still as his other hand held firmly your hip, sure to leave bruises. All you could do was to wrap your legs around him to make him reach deeper, and moan when he buried himself balls deep into you.

His thrusts were fast and violent, his eyes travelled from your waving breasts to your parted lips, as you begged for more, for him to never stop.

“Gods– You fill me so fucking good–“ You squirmed as your whole body moved to his pace.

“That’s right,” he groaned, leaning over you as your muscles clenched hard on his length. “I want you to come all over my cock.”

You would never deny that order. A heat wave hit you hard, overtaking your body in its silky arms, as pleasure spilled all over your mind just as Geralt’s cum spilled deep inside your pussy. Your legs were shaking when you rode down your orgasm with his gasps near your ear.

He fell on the bed next to you, panting.

“So… So you care for me. If I got the message right,” you said in between heavy breaths and looked at him.

“Pretty much, yes.”

He also looked at you before you both laughed. He pulled you to a soft kiss before closing you in his warm arms. There was nothing that could disturb that night. Not when you felt so warm, so safe next to him.

You placed your head on his chest and soon the sleep surrounded you like a fog. And you dreamed, dreamed about amber eyes and clear blue skies.

 ___

tag lists:

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💖 - @omg-so-many-fandoms @iwannaendme

🖤 - @winterpoohbear

[shirtlesssammy]

5x12: Swap Meat

At a bar, a woman sits alone, enjoying her margarita, when one Sam Fucking Winchester wanders over and asks the barkeep ---NOT at all awkwardly--for a banana daiquiri. He’s either deep undercover or something is seriously hinky. There’s a lot of sugar in banana daiquiris, Sam. Crystal introduces herself and Sam introduces himself as Gary! She then propositions him, much to his cluelessness. 

The poor dumb boy puts it together and “would love to have the sex with [her].” We then pan over to see Sam REALLY isn’t Sam at all.

Housatonic, Massachusetts

36 Hours Earlier

Sam and Dean visit Donna, an old babysitter --well, she was a maid at a motel they’d stay at while John went hunting. She looked out for them. It seems that her family house has a poltergeist problem. Bumps and broken items have led to the thing attacking their daughter, Katie. 

Katie lifts her shirt to reveal “Murderd Chylde” carved into her abdomen. I'd get some serious vaseline on those wounds if you don’t want scarring, Katie. Yeesh. Sam and Dean tell the family to skedaddle while they take care of things. 

They stop at a diner for food next. Dean picks up their order from the counter from Banana Daiquiri Gary! He’s not impressed with Sam’s salad shake, and neither is Dean (but when is he ever?) 

They talk about Donna and how she’s got a good thing going. Dean asks Sam if he’d want to settle down at all and have a family, and Sam answers, “no.” Dean looks contemplative about it. 

Sam finds lore on the house. A Samuel Pickett owned the house in the 1700s and hung a woman, Maggie Briggs, there for witchcraft. As the brothers talk, we watch Gary hyperfixate on Sam. 

Sam goes to check out the town’s archives for where Maggie Briggs was buried. As he’s walking back to the motel, he hears a noise and then gets shot in the neck with a dart. Lights out, Sammy. 

He comes to later, wearing Gary’s work uniform. He starts walking but the cops pick him up claiming his family is worried about him. “My brother called you?” Sam asks, incredulous. 

No. The cops take him to a suburban house where a worried couple pops out and hugs Sam in relief. He asks who they are and in return they want to know if he’s drunk. 

They keep calling him Gary. It’s then that Sam looks in the window of the cop car --and sees his reflection. He looks like Gary!

Meanwhile, Gary is checking out his hot new bod. Dean shows up and wonders where he’s been. Gary placates him with food. He also tells Dean that the maid saw all their weapons and they better get out of there. While Dean uses the restroom, Gary gets rid of all Dean’s phones. 

THEN he has the NERVE to ask to drive. He doesn’t get far. And quite frankly, Dean’s spidey sense should be spiking through the ceiling at this point. 

Sam keeps trying to reach his brother, with no luck. He calls the motel to learn that the two dudes in room 102 left in the middle of the night. So, Sam starts digging through Gary’s stuff and discovers items of witchcraft. Before he can dig too much further though, he’s called to the family breakfast. 

His “dad” starts grilling him about getting drunk the night before. Sam’s got better things to worry about than placating some dude he doesn’t know. He also needs to learn more about Gary, so he starts interviewing the family about what they've noticed in him lately. 

The dad wants to know if Sam’s “smoking drugs”. Sam then asks if they’ve ever seen him with a black book recently. His sister, Sydney, reacts to that question. The mom reacts to him eating toast --his allergy to wheat gluten!! 

Sydney later reveals to Sam that there IS a book.

Gary and Dean are still working the case. Dean informs Gary that they have to search graves for Maggie’s body. Nerd of Nerd’s Gary knows exactly where Maggie Briggs is buried: Isiah Pickett’s basement. He also reveals that he murdered her and her unborn child before burying them in the basement. Dean connects the ‘murderd chylde’ clue. 

Once in the car, Bob Seger starts blasting, and Gary tells Dean to turn it up. 

Sam continues to leave messages for Dean. He ALSO has to navigate the tortures of high school again. Sam meets two of Gary’s friends and asks where his locker is (he’s still drunk, after all). 

For This is a Look TM Science:

(And let’s pause for a moment to enjoy Sam’s striped hoodie. Definitely one of the top 5 wardrobe choices on this show.) 

He finds the book in the back of Gary’s locker. 

Gary and Dean find the grave in the basement of the Pickett house. Dean gets to digging while Gary aims his gun at Dean. Before he can shoot, the ghost comes out to play. It starts beating up the both of them but Gary’s able to burn the bones.

Gary’s extremely nosy friends follow Sam out of the school. While it looks like we’re gearing up for some good ol’ Ferris Bueller shenanigans, Trevor shoots Sam in the throat (GAH) with a sedative dart. 

Meanwhile, at a bar, Dean orders a burger with extra bacon and a fried egg on top. Excuse me...I need to go eat an entire branchbouquet of kale in retaliation. Mysteriously, Sam orders the same thing. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Dean asks. But it’s just a lighthearted comment and they raise a toast to a successful hunt.

Gary’s over the moon overabout the day he just had. His joy makes Dean suspicious the way nothing else has. Oh, you sweet sad sunflowers. Gary lays out Sam Winchester’s happiness list: 1) gun 2) getting drunk 3) looks like Sam Winchester.

“You ever feel like your whole future is being decided for you?” Gary asks. OH YES, Dean tells him. I forget for a minute that I’m watching a season 5 episode as the Dean-Winchester-feels-trapped-in-the-narrative-sorrow threatens to overwhelm me. But there areis no time for FEELINGS when the narrative must go on! Cut to later in the night, when Gary gets picked up by the woman in the bar from the cold open. Dean puts his thinking face on while Gary ecstatically leaves the bar. 

Back at Kid Kidnapperz clubhouse, Sam’s tied up. Trevor calls Gary and asks him if he’s killed Dean yet. “I’m working up to it,” Gary replies while sitting shirtless under a leopard print bedspread in the cougar’s lair. (Just...no on SO MANY LEVELS.) Sam listens to this with great alarm.

Sam demands to know how these rando teenagers know Dean. “Everybody knows Dean. He’s Hell’s most wanted,” Trevor retorts. Sam puts two and two together and comes up with a coupla dumb kids who took a deep dive into witchcraft and started talking to demons. 

“You’re just kids,” Sam laments. Trevor and Nora fill in more blanks. They were messing around with a Moste Dark Booke of Witchcraftery, as one does, and suddenly Gary went into a trance and drew a fairly decent picture of Dean. Gary also heard a voice - it was setting a bounty on Dean’s head, and apparently broadcast through the witch trance network.

Gary heard a voice in his head - it was setting a bounty on Dean’s head, and apparently broadcast through the witch trance network. Nora now has second thoughts, so Trevor ups his stupidity game and starts to summon a demon. 

That night, Gary creeps into the motel room and grabs Dean’s gun up from a nearby chair. He cocks the pistol. . He aims it at the shape under the covers...and Dean grabs him from behind and demands to know who he really is. (Silly Gary, Dean stopped sleeping under covers after he got back from Hell.)

Back in Trevor’s basement, he finishes the demon summoning. Nora looks up with black eyes.

She’s very interested to learn that they’ve got Dean Winchester in their sights. Trevor tells her where Dean is immediately. She absorbs this and swings her attention to Sam. She realizes it’s Sam “Boy King of Hell” Winchester sitting there and is suddenly VERY interested. Trevor asks her where his reward is, and when he pushes for it she first taunts, then kills him. (All the while Sam is in the background GRINDING HIS TEETH.)

Gary weeps, tied up in the motel room while Dean listens to voicemail after voicemail from Sam. Gary babbles about Sam’s whereabouts but it’s too late. Demon!Nora saunters in and lobs Dean across the room. Wherps. She offers Gary a powerful future but first he’s got to meet “the boss.” All he has to do is say “Yes” and they can have a nice chat together! Very sneaky! Dean attacks her while she’s cooking up her big plan and then Gary and Dean tag team an exorcism, freeing Nora of the demon. Later, Gary performs the incantation to swap bodies with Sam again. (I shake my head yet again that THIS is the ONLY body swap episode we got in the whole fifteen season run. What a goddamn waste of comedy potential.

With Sam restored to normal (or as normal as a Winchester can get), Dean confronts Gary. He tells him that if he were just a little older, he’d be dead right now. With those comforting parting words, they bring Gary and Nora back to their lives. Sam tells Gary to quit his whining about his life. It’s possible to rebel in a “healthy, non-satanic way.” Furthermore, he tells Gary that he wishes he had his life. Once the kids are out of earshot, Dean comments on Sam’s kind words. “Totally lied. Kid’s life sucked ass.” The apple-pie family crap is stressful, Sam decides. 

Maybe they just don’t know what they’re missing, Dean rejoins, and I calmly tie an anvil around my ankle and drop it off a cliff into a dramatically large canyon. 

They head out into the rainy night...to fight another day!

Doppelquöter:

You ever think that you'd want something like that? Wife, rugrats, the whole nine?

No matter how much you fight it, you can't stop the plan. The stupid, stupid plan

Um, I wouldn't exactly call praying to our dark overlord “goofing around”

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[luna-tiel]

What Entrapdak Means to Me

On the eve of Entrapdak Positivity Month, I thought it was as good a time as any to share my rambling thoughts on a ship that’s affected me in a way I didn’t think was possible. 

Entrapdak is the first ship I have ever been invested in. It’s such a new experience for me that it’s taken me the last few months to wrap my head around the whole thing. I may relate to the characters in a show, but when they form romantic attachments I view it with a degree of passive distance. I don’t understand what it’s like to have those sorts of feelings for someone (I am aromantic and ace as a brick), and, well, I’m honestly not curious enough to give the subject a thorough study. My mind tends to fixate on other things. 

What does this have to do with Entrapdak, you ask? Long story short for people who don’t want to read my meandering essay -- I relate a lot to these characters, and the way they bonded together struck a deep chord in me that I can’t ignore. 

Let’s start with the characters. I knew going in that Entrapta was neurodivergent-coded, but I took it with a grain of salt. When I actually watched the show, however, I found myself relating to her so deeply it shocked me. Never have I felt such a kinship with a fictional character! We don’t share every trait, but it was still like seeing my brain put to life on screen. I related to her enthusiasm over her special interests, her struggles to fit in, her desire to make friends who accept and understand her for who she is. 

The fact Entrapta is completely herself is something I love about her. Over the years of growing up undiagnosed, I developed a lot of masking strategies. Human psychology is one of my special interests, and even with all that accumulated knowledge, masking isn’t easy. It’s extremely mentally taxing. Masking can certainly look easy -- I can, when I have the drive and energy, “pass” as neurotypical, and only people who know me extremely well can tell I’m dying inside. All that effort is taken for granted by a lot of NTs because that’s how people are “supposed to” act, and surely I can “do the bare minimum.” The accumulated stress of near constant masking has led me to the darkest moments I’ve had in my life.

Entrapta’s struggle with leaving Beast Island hit me hard. It threw me back to a time when my feelings of isolation and worthlessness got so bad that I lost the energy to do anything, even the creative pursuits that were the obsession of my life. I retreated so deeply into my inner world that I hardly interacted with anyone. That total apathy shocked my family into getting me professional help, which gave me my autism diagnosis, the coping skills to move forward, and a good start on the road to self-acceptance. It also opened a channel between my family and I, allowing me to feel heard and understood. (An important side note on mental health: if you or someone you love needs professional help, please seek it! Sometimes you have to try out several therapists -- it took me three to find a good fit -- but you are worth it!)

It took me longer to realize, but I also relate to Hordak in some ways. Mercifully I was not raised in an extremist cult environment. However, I know what it’s like to feel defective next to a sibling that seems perfect. I was constantly being compared to my younger brother, and in all areas but art, he was superior. He was smart, athletic, and above all, he fit in with everyone. I didn’t hate him for this -- I hated myself. Trying to measure up to his standard is what caused me to develop such strong masking strategies. Underneath it all, I felt the despair of knowing my peers would reject me as soon as the mask cracked. I also live with chronic joint pain, starting at around age seven. The jury is still out on what’s causing that (the worst of it was due to a previously unknown food allergy, but the pain still comes and goes, even though it’s a lot more manageable than it used to be). This cocktail of pain, stress, and sensory issues I had to deal with gave me a very short fuse at times. 

As an aside, just because I sympathize with Hordak does not mean I am excusing his actions. He is still going to have to face the consequences of his choices, and work to adjust to life post-Prime. The series end gave him a new beginning, the opportunity to be redeemed, and I prefer this to a rushed redemption arc. 

What I love most about Hordak and Entrapta’s relationship is how they accept each other as they are. Hordak gives Entrapta near free reign of his sanctum, he listens to her when she talks, and he respects her opinions. Even when he pushes her away, he still considers the logic of what she tells him, and sometimes ends up doing things her way despite his initial instincts. This is something I do in my own life; I am easily overwhelmed by new information, so my initial response to an idea/activity is almost always a firm (and sometimes rude) “no,” until I have time to properly process and think about it. Hordak is the first person in Entrapta’s life that truly listens to her. He still has things he needs to work on, but it’s a lot better than how most of the princesses are with Entrapta. The Alliance treats her as someone to be managed -- she is useful, but unreliable. Hordak, in contrast, trusts her to get things done in her own way. 

On the other side, Entrapta is the first person in Hordak’s life to accept him without judgment. Hordak spends so much of his energy putting up a front of strength and intimidation, and Entrapta cuts right through that. She’s not frightened by his appearance, and even his outbursts have little effect on her until the two of them start to bond. Entrapta doesn’t come into their interactions with any preconceived ideas of what Hordak is like, or more importantly, what he should be like. This lack of expectation leaves her completely open to accepting whatever Hordak does and says, and it also relieves Hordak of the burden of needing to put on a front around her. When Entrapta sees him at his most vulnerable, she reaches out to him with compassion, something he has never felt before. Entrapta also does this in a way that doesn’t belittle Hordak. His imperfections are not something to pity, they are a valuable part of who he is. 

I loved watching their friendship develop. Entrapta and Hordak’s shared time together evolved slowly into a bond that gave each of them a sense of belonging they had never experienced before with anyone else. It gave me the hope that, despite what an oddball mess I am, perhaps I could find someone who understands me too. 

When a romance subplot inserts itself into a story, I tend to gloss over and ignore it (if I pick up on it at all). I’m even less interested in sex. Way back when I was first getting into fandom I was so excited to go online and meet fellow fans of the books and shows I liked, only to discover the spaces being dominated by arguments over character pairings. I was baffled. This is what people are most interested in? Oh well… back to the hermit cave I go! 

I was late to the party with SPoP. I’d watched a few episodes, but the show didn’t really hook me. This was partially because all I ever heard people talk about online was Catradora, and if that was the main appeal of the show, I wasn’t sure I would enjoy it (sorry Catradora shippers, romance is not going to entice me to watch a show, even if it’s rep). Quarantine was the ultimate cause for me embracing my curiosity and diving headfirst into SPoP, binging the entire thing a few months before the release of season 5.

I vaguely knew about Entrapdak as a ship going into the show, and I admit, had I not been primed for it, I probably would have missed the romantic potential entirely. In no way did I expect to become invested. I was immediately intrigued by their dynamic, and as they got closer, I found myself thinking “oh, I see why people ship these two.” I didn’t understand this realization until months later. I was relating to the characters, and for the first time in my life, I was relating to their relationship.

I headcanon Entrapta and Hordak as an asexual couple. I’ll elaborate on this at a later time (asexuality is a spectrum with a lot of nuance, and this post is plenty long already), but at the core of it, I find joy in imagining these characters in a loving platonic relationship, something I hope to find myself one day. I hope this love comes across in my artwork and in my fanfictions <3

To those of you that read this far, wow, you must be patient! Have an imaginary cookie! I hope this ramble has provided a decent picture for why I, as an aro ace on the autism spectrum, have come to cherish Hordak and Entrapta’s relationship. It’s my first and only OTP… I’m still in shock thinking about that… I guess we’ll see where things go from here!

Take care of yourselves out there!

[hargrove-mayfields]

I haven’t been able to write a whole lot recently so to make up for the little drought here’s a few kegboys hcs!

-Tommy has a big thing for 70s country music, it’s like, all he’ll listen to. Steve’s kind of overexposed to country having grown up in IN so he’s pretty neutral on it even though he prefers pop, but Billy, resident metal head and city boy through and through, tries to poke fun at him for it because like, country music is for uncool hicks, right? But, and this is very much to his dismay, Billy cannot get enough of Dolly. Like he really couldn’t care less about Toms other picks but he is beyond hooked on Dolly to the point that he’s the one buying all her new records when they come out.

-Tommy is absolutely the house husband because the other two are honest to god domestically useless. Billy tries really, really hard to help because Steve goes to work and he feels like he’s lazy for not being able to do much while he’s recovering, so Tommy sticks him with the little jobs because he knows he’s never going to get him to agree to actually resting. It’ll just be little tasks, things like cleaning the lint trap when Tom switches the laundry, but it’s enough to make him feel less useless.

-But! As good as he is at keeping up with the bills and doing chores, Tommy CANNOT cook. Steve will never ever forget the time he came over to his house and caught popcorn on fire in his microwave or when Billy had to swoop in and unplug the toaster like seconds before Tee electrocuted himself trying to use a fork to fish out a piece poptart that broke off in there, so he is very much not allowed anywhere near a stove. Billy is the best cook and even then he’s a little iffy because Neil never let him do it, so to compensate for how collectively awful they are in the kitchen they have like a thousand scribbled in cookbooks in every drawer and pantry.

-They all three have very different sleeping habits. Billy’s the early bird, always gets up at the same time as the sun well-rested no matter what time they went to bed. Steve is a deep sleeper through and through, he’ll pass out at like, 11:00 every night and won’t move again until morning. If nobody were to wake him up he could probably sleep all through an entire day. Tommy’s something of a rough sleeper though, can’t usually get to sleep until at least two in the morning, usually later than that even, and once he gets to sleep it’s very light and he tends to wake up every hour, on the hour. One time when Steve’s at the pharmacy picking up Billy's meds he grabs a little thing of melatonin for Tom because like, it says it boosts sleep and anything’s worth a shot if it means Tommy won’t be so exhausted and sick and frustrated all the time, and it does help! He sort of ends up on about the same sleep schedule as Billy once his rhythm gets a little more regulated.

-When they first started dating, Billy thought Steve was bad when it came to clothes stealing, he lost a few jackets and old t-shirts that way, but when they all three move in together he discovers that Tommy is the true culprit. Neither he nor Steve can keep track of literally any single piece of clothing. Everything, from their hoodies to their jeans to their pjs to their socks, all belong in some part to Tom until eventually they just have one community wardrobe they pick and choose from instead of like, individual clothes.

-They all three overuse the heck out of pet names like baby and babe, which results in Steve calling Tommy babe one and Billy babe two because he was tired of saying like “hey babe” and getting two simultaneous answers.

-Tommy does Billy’s hair for him when he still can’t do too much with his hands, and after that too when it’s convenient because it becomes routine, combing out his curls and putting mousse in it when he wants it done nice, because he wants to be a hairdresser anyways! He’d practiced plenty on Steve ever since they were in middle school, given him tons of hair cuts and even his highlights! It’s for that reason that when Tommy starts doing Billy’s hair, Steve gets the teensiest bit jealous because that used to be him. So everytime they go anywhere and they aren’t crunched for time he has to do both Billy and Steve’s hair and he starts not having time to straighten his own! But! That’s okay because his boys are very fond of his natural curls!

-Steve runs very, very cold always. He’s a type one diabetic so he’s pretty much always anemic and he freezes like 24/7. Even in the summer when Billy and Tommy are like melting into the furniture, he can get away with long sleeves and be just fine. When they’re in bed they keep Steve in the middle because they both run super warm like a heat register and it’d get too hot without having Steve as their ice pack between them.

-More about Steve’s diabetes bc it’s like one of my fav hcs and I wish I could write about it more! It’s really hard to find things for him to eat because he’s gotta worry about his sugar, but also because he has so many food allergies and sensitivities on top of that. Before he had anyone around he just kind of didn’t care about watching himself like, if he wanted to eat something, he would just do it, but he ultimately faced the consequences of that a few times too many, aka being hospitalized twice with DKA and three times with anaphylactic shock. he gets banned from grocery shopping on his own, because he will absolutely buy so much stuff he isn’t supposed to have and ‘lose’ the receipt and just hide the stuff because his boys will not let him eat whatever he wants anymore. Billy is also not allowed to go shopping because he never remembers what brands they use or reads any labels, he just grabs the first of everything he sees and calls it a day. Tommy officially gave up on them and started doing it himself after confiscating a half empty bag of gummy bears off of Steve and having to use the wrong toothpaste for months because Billy refused to pay attention.

-Tommy attracts strays! Cats, dogs, an actual escaped budgie from the neighbors house once, it doesn’t matter, somehow they always find him. If he’s out on the porch there’s like, a ninety percent chance there’s a critter that doesn’t belong to them in his lap. He lets Billy name them all even though they can’t keep them. Tommy personally can’t pick a favorite out of the 20 some odd cats that come and go because they’re all his babies, but Billy and Steve have theirs. B’s favorite is a black and white little fella named Mr. Shrimp and Steve’s is a sweet tabby girl named Meowzers! The rule doesn't only apply to domesticated animals either, raccoons and wild bunnies also tend to lurk around their porch. Billy picks up a raccoon once (he named her Poubelle, but calls her Bella) and Steve yelled at him for hours about how dangerous and irresponsible and gross it was. Him and Tommy get boyfriend grounded for like, weeks after that.

-Steve is like everyone’s Midwestern grandma! He keeps pockets full of butterscotch candies and tissues, he’s got a collection of blow molds and Tiffany lamps, he wears sweatshirts and jackets with weird quotes on them and like, he believes the cure to every ailment is tomato soup, vicks, a wash rag, and a kiss or any combination thereof. It drives Billy completely up the wall, because he’ll cough like once and Steve is like do you need soup? do you need a doctor? please let me help you. But Tommy likes it, being fussed over, cause he grew up with younger siblings and two working parents, so he was always the one doing the fussing.

[aboyandhispokemon]

All You Need Is a Little Pokémon TLC

Summary: When Ash falls ill a day before Serena's performance, his Pokémon make sure that their Trainer gets the rest he needs, even if they have to be a little forceful. Ash has always taken care of his Pokémon, and his Pokémon will always take care of him. Sometimes the best cure for the flu is plenty of TLC. Takes place before Performing With Fiery Charm.

...

The morning sunlight filtered through the gap between the red curtains, rousing Pikachu from slumber. The Mouse Pokémon stretched out with a yawn, stomach rumbling in hunger. He took a fleeting glance at the clock, a puzzled sound escaping him when he discovered the time—it was late morning.

"Pikapi?" Pikachu began to shake Ash's arm, but the boy continued to snooze on. Pikachu's ears twitched, picking up on the odd, unusual rhythm of his Trainer's breathing pattern. He scampered to the right side of the bed, where Ash's head lay snug against the pillow. Pikachu's eyes widened at the red flush and sheen of sweat on Ash's face. His mouth was wide open as he breathed in and out, as he was unable to breathe through his nose.

There was no doubt about it—Ash was sick.

"Pikapi!"

His concerned call managed to rouse the boy awake. Eyes cracking open, Ash slowly sat up, wincing at the dull pound occurring in his head. "I'm up, I'm up," he said groggily. He tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness overtook him and he dropped limply back into the bed, stomach swirling. "Whoa…why's the room spinning?"

Pikachu hopped into Ash's lap and raised a paw to rest against Ash's forehead, which was warm to the touch. "Pika pika," he said worriedly.

"I'm fine," dismissed Ash, scratching Pikachu's head before gently setting him on the mattress. "Probably just hungry. I'll get dressed and we'll go downstairs for breakfast."

His stomach gave a lurch at the mere thought of food, but Ash ignored it. He once more stood up, moving cautiously across the floor towards his backpack, which rested next to the wooden dresser set. At that moment, to Pikachu's relief, there was a brief knock at the door and Clemont entered.

"Morning," he greeted with a smile. "I was wondering when you two would get up. I—" He noticed Ash wobble in place, his face flushed red, and he hurried to his friend's side. "Ash! Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, steadying the boy.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just off-balance today."

"Pikachu! Pika! Chu!" voiced Pikachu firmly. Ash was most certainly not okay, and it was his stubborn habit to pretend he was healthy when he was clearly ill.

Clemont pressed his wrist against Ash's forehead, ignoring his companion's sound of annoyance. "Yeah, you have a fever," he confirmed, leading him over to the bed and easing him down. "I'll go get Nurse Joy right away. Lie down and rest."

Ash scowled slightly as Clemont hurried from the room. "I don't need to be looked over by Nurse Joy. I said I'm fine," he grumbled. He idly swiped the back of his hand under his leaking nose. "Ugh."

Pikachu quickly went over to where a box of tissues rested on the top of the dresser. He grabbed hold of it and brought it over to Ash, who plucked a few tissues free and honked loudly into them. "Thanks, buddy," he said gratefully. "Must be allergies or something."

No, you're just sick, thought Pikachu in exasperation.

He made a noise of protest as Ash stood up again, but all he received was a reassuring pat on the head before Ash tried the trek to his backpack once more. The pajama clad boy swayed with each step, and looked close to collapsing at any moment.

I'm not going to be able to get him back to bed by myself.

Pikachu glanced towards the Poké Balls attached to Ash's belt, which was hung carefully over the back of the desk chair. "Hey, a little help?"

There were four bright flashes of white light, which caused Ash to turn around in surprise, having to grip the edge of the dresser to keep his balance. "Hey, what's up?”

"Froga." Frogadier took Ash firmly by the arm and led him to bed. "Dier."

"Cut it out, I'm telling you, I'm not—ah, ah, achoo!"

A bout of sneezing overtook the boy, cutting off his protests. He lacked his usual strength, and was not able to pull away from his Bubble Frog Pokémon. He grudgingly let himself be set on the bed, and Pikachu tugged the covers over his trembling form.

"Fine," he muttered, sinking back into his pillows. "Maybe I don't feel one-hundred percent."

"He's not going to admit he's sick, is he?" asked Frogadier, glancing at the Pokémon who had been with Ash since the very beginning.

"Nope." Pikachu shook his head. "Admitting he's sick means he's admitting he's feeling weak, and he hates that."

"That's silly," said Fletchinder, ruffling out its feathers. "Illness is natural."

"Try telling him that," muttered Pikachu.

Clemont returned with Nurse Joy at that moment, and she promptly went to Ash’s side to stuck a thermometer in his mouth, ignoring his protests. "No talking," she chided. Turning to the worried blonde, she asked, "Do you know his symptoms?"

"Well, I could tell he was sweating and he’s pretty congested," answered Clemont, adjusting his glasses. "It also looked like he was pretty dizzy. He was having trouble walking.”

"I see."

Ash's brow furrowed in annoyance, but he lay still on the bed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, the glass thermometer stuck under his tongue. His Pokémon stood at the end of the bed, watching their Trainer with intent eyes.

"All right, that should do it," declared Nurse Joy after a couple of minutes passed. She removed the thermometer and checked the result. "Yes, you have a fever. Nothing too serious, but you certainly won't be leaving this bed today."

"Aw, man," groaned Ash. "But what about Serena's performance?"

"We still have a day and a half," soothed Clemont. "If you rest up and drink lots of fluids, you should be better by then."

A soft beeping noise started emitting from the pocket of Nurse Joy's apron. "Oh dear, there's someone in the lobby needing my assistance. Will you be able to watch over him?" she addressed Clemont.

The blonde furrowed his brow. "I was supposed to pick up my sister from Serena and take her around Dendemille Town, but I'm sure she'll understand. I'll—"

"Don't—achoo—be silly," spoke up Ash, sniffling slightly. "I don't need to be looked after. I'll be fine. Serena would probably appreciate the time to practice without worrying about looking after Bonnie."

"Hawlucha, haw!" said Hawlucha firmly, forming a determined fist. "Lucha!"

Clemont looked over in surprise before smiling. "Of course, I should have realized sooner. You'll take care of him until we get back?"

"Pika!" confirmed Pikachu with a nod. "Pi pika!"

"Right, nobody listen to me," grumbled Ash.

"I'll be in the main lobby if you need me at any time," Nurse Joy informed the Pokémon. "I'll be up shortly with some medicine."

The pink-haired woman departed, and Clemont turned to Ash, who was trying to snuggle in his covers. "Do you want me to get you anything before I leave?"

"No," he replied stubbornly. "Go on. I'll see you later."

"You should at least have some water or juice."

"Pi pika pi!" spoke Pikachu.

"Right. I know you guys will take good care of him. I should stop worrying, huh?" Clemont raised his hand in farewell and started for the door. "We won't be long. Make sure he stays in bed."

Ash's Pokémon made noises of acknowledgement and the blonde left the Pokémon Center's guest room. Noibat flew up onto the edge of Ash's bed and studied him worriedly. The raven-haired boy managed to sit up and gather the young Pokémon into his lap.

"Hey, I'm okay, really," he said, gently rubbing Noibat's ears. He turned his head away and let out a series of sneezes that racked his body. He collapsed against the pillows with a soft moan, wearily reaching for another tissue.

His body trembled with shivers from his fever, and Fletchinder noticed Ash try to wrap himself tighter in the covers for warmth. It flew up onto the bed beside the boy and settled close to Ash's side, using its Flame Body to slightly heat up and give Ash some warmth. Ash almost immediately relaxed, his head falling slightly to rest against Fletchinder's feathers.

"Thanks, buddy," he murmured.

"Not too much heat," cautioned Pikachu, observing his ill best friend and fellow Pokémon from the end of the bed. "We don't want the fever to get any higher."

"I know," replied Fletchinder.

"Papa's gonna get better, right?" asked Noibat anxiously.

Hawlucha reached out and lifted the Sound Wave Pokémon up from where he rested on Ash's chest. "Of course. It’s a common illness.”

"And we want him to get better as soon as possible," spoke up Pikachu. "Hawlucha, do you think you can take Noibat and find Ash something to drink? Orange juice would be the best."

"Sure," answered Hawlucha, setting Noibat atop his head, where the young Pokémon stayed perched, large yellow eyes still locked on Ash, who was now half-asleep.

"I'll get Ash some soup from the Pokémon Center's diner," continued Pikachu. "Frogadier, can you stay here and make sure he stays in bed?"

Frogadier offered the electric Pokémon a salute. "Can do."

"We'll be back shortly!"

The three Pokémon scampered from the room, the door clicking shut to cause Ash to rouse back to full attention. He caught a glimpse of his Pokémon disappearing out into the hall. "Hey!" he tried to shout, though it came out as more of a rasp thanks to his scratchy and mildly sore throat. "Frogadier, where'd they go?"

"Froga," his Pokémon informed. "Dier."

"Well, so long as they don't wander," said Ash, rubbing at his bleary eyes. "Man, I hate being sick. You can't do anything." He scrubbed at his sweaty face, grimacing slightly. "I should at least have a shower."

"Frogadier," said Frogadier firmly, shaking his finger in a negative gesture.

Ash made a face, reaching out to playfully swat away Frogadier's hand. "I'm guessing you're not on my side either, Fletchinder."

"Fletchinder, fletch fletch," confirmed the Ember Pokémon, lightly nudging Ash's arm affectionately.

"And people say I'm the mother hen."

Frogadier reached out to feel Ash's forehead. It was still warm, and the Pokémon went in search of a cloth. Ash followed his movements in bemusement, and when Frogadier removed a white washcloth from the cupboard near the bathroom in triumph, he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Seriously, I'm not like, dying. I can do that myself."

"Frogadier."

Ash rolled his eyes at Frogadier's dismissive sound, a smile on his lips. "Yeah. Stay put. I got it."

It was a minute later when the cool, drenched cloth was draped over his forehead, and Ash let out a soft sigh of contentment. He raised a hand to rub Frogadier's head, drifting it down a moment later to stroke Fletchinder's feathers.

"Thanks, guys."

It was not long before Pikachu, Hawlucha and Noibat returned, bringing with them a to-go container of soup and multiple cans of orange juice. Ash moved himself into a sitting position, warmth that had nothing to do with his illness coursing through him.

"You're the best," he said gratefully, taking the soup and spoon when Pikachu hopped into his lap. Noibat handed over a can of juice, and Ash immediately cracked it open, taking a long chug. The sweet liquid soothed his scratchy throat. Cradling the hot container in his hands, he regarded his Pokémon with a soft frown. "You guys are probably hungry, right? It is late in the morning."

Frogadier went over to Ash's backpack and proffered two cans of Pokémon food, and with Hawlucha's help removed the lids. Ash grinned as an earnest Noibat practically tackled one of the cans, only to be chided by the Wrestling Pokémon.

Satisfied that his Pokémon would be well-fed, Ash dug into his soup with the plastic spoon, taking careful sips. When he drained the last bit of soup into his mouth, Ash's stomach gave a lurch, which he tried to ignore. Though he hadn't felt like eating, he knew it was important to keep his strength up.

"Eat up, gang," he urged his Pokémon. "We want to be in top form for our seventh gym battle." He formed a fist and raised it determinedly. "That badge is going to be ours, no matter what."

"He's got a bit of a one-track mind, doesn't he?" asked Frogadier in amusement.

"You are not one to talk," scoffed Fletchinder.

Frogadier threw Fletchinder a slight glare. "You trying to say something?"

"Settle," warned Hawlucha, pointedly reaching over to pat an observing Noibat.

Pikachu snickered as the two hastily transferred into friendly chatter rather than threatening bickering. He ate his fill and then sprang up onto the bed, curling up next to Ash. The boy rubbed his ear affectionately. "All full, buddy?"

"Pika!"

As the others continued to eat, Ash idly sipped through another can and a half of orange juice, trying to subdue the rising build of nausea in his gut. When that didn't work, he clenched his teeth together, trying to focus on his breathing.

Pikachu peered up at his Trainer with concern, sensing something was wrong. "Pikapi?"

Unable to fight it any longer, Ash practically catapulted out of bed, sending Pikachu jumping to the side and the cloth that was resting on his head flying. His Pokémon jumped up as the boy raced for the bathroom, sliding across the tiles before falling into a kneeling position in front of the toilet.

His chest heaved and his throat burned as his body expelled the contents of his stomach. His hands shook and his breathing grew harsh as the uncomfortable sensation overtook him. His vision blurred, and after a moment he could feel soothing circles being rubbed into his back.

When his stomach at last settled, Ash slowly leaned backwards, turning to look over his shoulder. Frogadier and Pikachu were rubbing his back, while the others watched anxiously from the bathroom door. Once Noibat noticed that Ash had finished his retching, he burst into tears, sonic waves bursting throughout the room, and charged for his caretaker.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm fine," soothed Ash, flinching against the high-pitched noise and petting Noibat's ears. "I didn't mean to scare you."

His chest hurt and there was a terrible taste in his mouth. He slowly got to his feet, with Frogadier steadying him, and flushed the toilet. He rinsed his mouth at the sink and made his way back to bed, settling back against the pillows with a soft moan.

"That wasn't fun," he muttered, holding Noibat close to his chest. "Ugh. Have I mentioned I hate being sick?"

"Many times, and I completely agree with you," said Pikachu sympathetically, hopping onto the bed and climbing into Ash's lap.

"I thought soup was supposed to be good for humans when they're ill," voiced Frogadier, retrieving the fallen cloth.

"It is, but his stomach isn't cooperating at the moment," replied Fletchinder. "Maybe he'll be able to eat in a few hours."

"I hope so. He needs to keep up his energy, and frankly he gets cranky when he's hungry," returned Frogadier, before disappearing into the bathroom to wet the cloth once more.

Hawlucha let out a soft snort. "Yes, much unlike you," he said sarcastically, causing Fletchinder to chuckle.

Frogadier returned and handed Ash the cloth. The boy set it over his forehead and opened yet another can of orange juice. "Yeah…so…I might need more of these," he muttered, squinting at the two that still remained. "Here's hoping this manages to stay down."

Before he could take a drink, there was a knock at the door, and when Ash answered Nurse Joy entered the room, carrying a small bottle of medicine. "I'm so sorry I didn't bring this sooner," she apologized, setting it on Ash's bedside.

"It's fine," answered Ash. "Thanks a lot."

"How are you feeling?"

"Not so good," he admitted. "Pikachu brought me some soup, but it didn't want to stay in my stomach."

"The medicine will help with that," assured Nurse Joy. "You should be able to eat an hour after consumption. This will also bring down your fever. It's quite bitter, so you should take some juice with it."

"All right."

"Can I get you anything?"

"Not right now, thanks. If I need anything later, I'm sure my Pokémon will be happy to get it for me. They're not letting me do anything but rest." Ash sent a mock-glare towards his friends. "They're very boring."

Nurse Joy laughed. "I can see they're doing a great job of looking after you. You have wonderful Pokémon."

Ash smiled sincerely. "Yeah, definitely. They're the best."

"I'll be in the lobby if any of you need anything. Rest well!"

"Right, and thanks again!"

Nurse Joy departed, and Ash stared at the brown vial of medicine. "So…Hawlucha, you want to go first?"

"Lucha lu," denied Hawlucha.

"Anyone else?" asked Ash. He received more noises of refusal, though Noibat was sniffing the bottle curiously. Ash grinned and uncapped the bottle. "Trust me, buddy, you don't want this stuff."

"Does it taste bad?" asked Noibat. "It doesn't really have a smell."

"Let Ash's reaction be all the answer you need," replied Pikachu.

Ash poured some medicine into the cap and stared at it for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he quickly downed the contents and his face immediately screwed up in distaste. He gagged slightly and grabbed his orange juice, taking a mighty swig.

"Gee, they must be just as bad as sour berries," remarked Noibat.

"If not worse," agreed Fletchinder.

"All right, that's enough of that," declared Ash, flopping back against the pillows. He was rather exhausted now, and his eyes were starting to fall shut. "Who wants to take a nap?"

His Pokémon made noises of agreement and they all clustered together on the bed, burying underneath the covers. Ash shifted over to make room for Hawlucha, fondly rubbing his head. "Hey…thanks, gang. I know I can always count on you, and I really appreciate you looking after me. You know I love you, right?"

"Not as much as we love you," replied Pikachu, nuzzling Ash's hand.

"You take care of us, and of course we'll take care of you," spoke Fletchinder. "Always."

"I love Papa," said Noibat cheerfully, snuggling close.

"Ah, we'd do anything for him," agreed Hawlucha.

"You're the Trainer I always waited for. You gave me the one thing I longed for, and I will return it to you full-heartedly," said Frogadier feelingly.

Soon the group fell asleep, with Pikachu cuddled in Ash's lap, with Noibat held close to the boy's chest. Frogadier lay beside Ash on the right, one of his arms slung over the Bubble Frog Pokémon's stomach. Fletchinder was pressed against Ash's left side, and Hawlucha was snoozing against Ash's leg, and that was the sight Clemont, Serena and Bonnie returned to.

[theramseyloft]

You probably already get this question alot, but could I have some care tips (Cage requirements, food, basic care) and anything that might repel me from them? (Especially for a racing Homer - which is what I'm assuming they have here since pigeon racing is quite a big industry in my country) (I'd love to adopt but sadly that's not an option here since there's barely even dog rescues here) Thanks so much in advance!

I’ll start with what might repel you, starting with things inherent to the species, and then to potential effects of their personal history.

First thing’s first; DUST!!! 

If you, or any one in your house hold, has dust related allergies or any respiratory issues at all, pigeons are not the pet for you.

They are dust monsters! For their size, the Columbidae produce more dust that any other domestic bird.

It is also a much finer dust. It floats in the air like thin smoke and takes a long time to settle, so you will breathe more of it with a group of pet pigeons than you would with parrots, chickens, quail, or song birds.

Definitely more than any mammalian dander that I know of.

Pigeons are only really territorial over what they consider a nest space. Away from their nests, they are social and quite friendly, but the fiercely defend their nest from all comers.

If they are in a loft, or have free flight of a room, that aggression is constrained to the actual nest itself and anything with in about half a body length from the lip of it.

But if they are in a cage, the entire cage is space that they feel a powerful instinctive drive to defend.

Any uninvited entry is seen as an intrusion either by a predator or a rival, so I usually advise people not to attempt to physically interact at all with the pigeon in their cage. 

Talking to the birds is fine, but all physical intrusion is seen as aggression that they have to defend against.

So, when you want to begin physically interacting with them, it’s best to invite them out into your room in the evening.

I’ll go into coop and home interaction training after the basic housing part.

Unless they are out of a sex linked pair, or you get them as fully mature adults, pigeons are absolute hell to sex.

Homers do become dimorphic as they age.

Karen is an adult racing homer cock.

Bird-bird is an adult hen of the same breed.

Look at Karen’s wattle (The thick skin above his nasal slits, at the base of his beak)

Now look at Bird-Bird’s.

His wattle is much bigger and more intricately developed than hers. 

Her face is much finer featured than his.

He stands more upright.

She stands more horizontal.

But as peeps, they are nearly impossible to differentiate.

This is important, because the social behavior of cocks and hens and how it translates to humans tends to be VERY different.

Hens are VERY cuddly! Even into adulthood.

But adult cocks are platonically touch repulsed.

A flock mate is likely to make physical contact with a cock for one of two reasons: Another cock starting a fight, or a hen asking for sex.

They even make friends with flock mates through combat.

Until it sinks in otherwise, all attempts at physical contact with a cock is perceived as a challenge to a fight.

Non-aggressive contact with a cock is seen as an invitation for him to be your mate, and cock love is VERY pinchy!

Pigeon courtship consists of a three part ritual called Driving.

In the Chase trial, A cock will harass and bite a hen until she flees. If she was interested first, she’ll flirt to get his attention, and then fly off.

He HAS to chase her, keep up with her, and out maneuver her, all while herding her towards his nest so that she dives in when she’s too exhausted to continue to fly.

If he cannot out maneuver her, fly faster, and stay in the air longer than her, then her peeps will be more likely than her to be caught and eaten by a predator, and she will refuse that cock the opportunity to fill her eggs.

After she inspects the nest and has rested, she will try to leave. The second courtship trial revolves around blocking her exit and physically wrestling her back in until she is too exhausted to keep fighting him.

If he cannot block the generally smaller, weaker hen from leaving and fight her to a stand still, then he can’t hope to block another cock trying to force his way in, throw him out if he manages to pop in by surprise, or keep fighting him until he gives up.

Only after proving his stamina and strength to the Hen directly may he offer her a sample of the contents of his crop.

This is the sweet kissing part of courtship, after which they preen and cuddle and he’s allowed to step up onto her back and tread her.

This translates very poorly with a human partner, and if you have a cock as a companion, you have to be ok with a LOT of love bites before you can get to the soft cuddly part of the relationship.

Suddenly running up to you and biting out of nowhere is NOT aggression. They give LOTS of warning when they are upset.

Running up to attack you out of nowhere is a misguided attempt to begin Driving you, and he will go WAY over the top with it, because he is trying to impress a COLOSSUS with his physical strength, stamina, and tenacity.

You can understand how this could translate poorly to a human partner!

There are ways to respond to minimize the bitey bit, but we’ll get to those in another ask. This one is going to be VERY long as is.

Now, what we have just discussed is base line pigeon, with no outside components making anything more difficult.

Racers old enough to fly have been through daily training tosses; where they are grabbed, put in a basket, and released every day at increasing distances from the loft.

The best case scenario is a strong fear of hands from being grabbed and stuffed into the basket and occasionally restrained and injected with a vaccine. 

The luckiest individuals have only had to navigate for miles every day to return to safety, food, and family.

Racing birds can also have to dodge hawks, or fly through inclement weather during training flights.

Some can even make it home severely injured.

Understandably, adult racers of either sex will need to be patiently worked through a STRONGLY reinforced fear of hands.

We have lots of posts discussing how to work with fearful pigeons, and I’ll be happy to go into it again in more detail, but that’s another for a different post.

Basics of care for pigeons are very simple.

They are strict granivores. Seeds are all they can digest, but they can eat a very wide variety of seeds. The more variation, the better.

Pigeons do not hull their seeds. They swallow them whole, and depend on the hulls as vital dietary fiber, so don’t give them seed that is already hulled.

Their diet should involve as much variety of seed, grains, and legumes as you can get your hands on, the size of an unpopped kernel of popcorn or smaller (Most breeds can;t swallow seeds much bigger than that) with some source of calcium available.

You can have a separate dish of oyster shell, or you can sprinkle powder in a single birds daily meal, or add liquid calcium to their water dish.

NOT all of those at once! Calcium can be overdosed!

Which ever method works most easily for you and your bird.

Pigeons are intensely social birds that get most of their enrichment from interaction.

They are happiest as free roaming house pets, like a cat or dog, that can come see you or go do their own thing as they choose.

Pigeons are smart enough to learn house rules.

Understandably, that is not an option for every one, and free roaming unsupervised before they learn the house rules can be dangerous.

If you cannot let the bird free roam their own room, you can easily modify a dog crate to house them comfortably.

They need square perches. Because they are cliff nesters, round perches put painful pressure on the ball of their feet, making walking painful.

I like to cut garden stakes to length and wire them into place.

A corner bunny litter pan is a decent nest box, but not necessary. They will nest just as happily in a cheap dog food dish.

Pigeons are ground foragers, so they prefer a shallow dish of food on the floor of their enclosure.

Ideally, the modified crate cage for the pigeon should be used like it would be for a pet dog; That is not where the animal lives full time. That is where it sleeps at night or hangs out when you aren’t home to supervise it, until it learns the house rules.

Toys are very simple, because their interaction tools are very limited.

Pigeons can recognize themselves in mirrors and love to play with them.

They enjoy bathing in a dish of water about hip-deep.

They can have sand or straw filled forage boxes to hunt for treats like safflower seeds in.

Stick-shaped, Shiny, and Jingly is their holy trinity of toy characteristics.

q-tips with the cotton tips cut off, tooth picks with the points clipped, wicker kitty balls with jingle bells inside, bread ties with jingle bells that are too big to accidentally swallow  twisted to either side, or made into a jingly ring, are all cheap, simple toys that a single pet bird will have fun playing with.

I mentioned coop training earlier, and it’s super simple.

Starting in the evening, open the door to the cage and invite the bird out.

Don’t hang around waiting for it to come. Go settle in to do something quiet and sedentary, like reading a book or surfing the net.

Pigeons are naturally curious, and the best way to work then through the fear of people they may have developed is to be as nonthreatening as possible and reward their curiosity.

Talk to them to desensitize them to your voice and start teaching them how you communicate.

They will eventually grow brave enough to come explore you yourself. 

A quiet, pleased greeting will reward them by not startling them.

Have safflower seeds available, but don’t try to reach out to give it to the birds.

Let them discover that you have them, and be still and non-reactive when they take some. Offer verbal praise, but don’t start trying to move until they ease away from automatic flightiness.

I specify beginning this process in the evening because trying to get a bird back into the crate before it trusts you is very difficult and your best bet to avoid making it afraid of you despite your friend-making efforts is to avoid having to chase it back into its pen at the end of flight time.

Starting these in the evening allows you the option to avoid chasing entirely just by turning off the lights.

At the end of out time, give a verbal warning like “Lights out” or “Bed Time”, and then wait a minute or two before actually turning off the light.

Pick the bird up in the dark, and return it gently to its enclosure.

It will begin to associate the “Lights out” or “Bed time” warning with the lights going out, and eventually learn to fly back to the pen in the space of time before the lights actually go out.

That’s about the skin and bone basics of care.

Please, by all means, send more asks for more information on any aspect or detail of pet pigeon keeping.

I am always happy to answer. ^v^

[pbandjesse]

I know I like to say that days are emotional mixed bags, roller coasters, and such. But its true!! Like I know they arent huge things, but it feels like my emotions are all over the place and stuff. It is just. A lot. And it wasnt even a bad day. But man was there stressful parts. 

I slept alright. But I somehow got my belly button ring stuck on something in the night and woke myself up because it hurt. So I had to take that out half asleep. It was an alright sleep. 

I woke up fully after James left for work. I got an email that I made a sale on my website?? So strange! I was excited. But then I saw what they ordered. We made a mistake on the website set up and the person bought something that already sold. I was so upset. I tore the closet apart trying to find it before I realized. So I was really upset. I was like half getting pretty and then going to look again and I was just a mess. 

But I was like. I should make more bears anyway. I want to get back into it. I miss my store. I miss making products. I was really proud of it and it sucks that the last two jobs Ive taken have caused me to lose all energy for the store I loved. So I am going to try to at least make stuff. Even if I suck at the advertising part. 

I sent an email to the customer to ask if it was okay for me to make them a new one in the same fabric, which I thankfully still had. They wouldn asnwer for a few hours (they are on the other side of the country) and were totally okay with it so I can feel better about that. But we would have to fix the website to make everything a 1 of a kind thing. James spearheaded that for me. Cause they are a great partner. 

Before they got home I spent some time cutting out bears from my new pattern. I got 7 bears cut out and I am very happy with the new pattern, its much faster. And I made one bear so I could make a video. I was very pleased though. I am excited to make more fuzzy bears honestly. Like even though its a mess its fun and I love how they look. I might try to add pattern fabrics as details, but for now Im going to focus on the fuzzies. 

James would come home and I would make a little lunch. And then, even though I very very much didnt want to, I went to work. 

And it was okay. It wasnt great. It wasnt super interesting. I mostly read and spent every 5 minutes telling my youngest kid to pay attention to his teacher. It was very annoying but also I cant blame him. Its to much to ask from a little guy and my other kindergarteners dont have that kind of day. I did feel like a monster when I accidentally pinched his finger between a chair and a table. But I hugged on him and he was fine. 

We made bean shakers for the project today and I read them The Velveteen Rabbit. Which I always loved. And really I just wanted to clean the room and be alone. And eventually I got that. 

We ended the day in the gym. I cleaned. Headed down and talked to Travis while the kids ran around. Eventually we went upstairs to watch a movie and I kept reading. 

I was very glad to go home. And as I was leaving once all the kids were picked up I ran into Marshal from Access Art!! It was so nice to see him. They are expanding to two more schools in the fall. So that's exciting. I said I was looking to not be in the classroom as much but to keep me in mind and he said he would email me as the year went on. We stood outside and talked a bit and it was nice. Just a nice little moment. 

 I headed home and ran into Mr Will outside. We talked for a bit, about work and stuff. It was nice to see him. He is trying to make our yard look more alive, which I appreciate.

James was dealing with a swollen eye and a red face. No idea what is up, but I think theyre developing allergies. I hope not. But they had made me popcorn and we hung out and made a plan to order dinner. We laid on the couch while we waited for the food to get here. 

After dinner I worked in the studio for a while. I accidently broke my needle on my machine. And then discovered it was my last one. I was super upset. I ended up hand sewing though and got two done, and started a 3rd. I hope to get a new needle soon but I dont mind hand sewing to much, its just slow. 

But now I am sitting on the couch in the new dress that came in the mail tonight. And I think it is time to get a shower and get some sleep. Lets wish tomorrow is nice. And I dont feel to bad. I need to be okay so I can take care of James after they get their second vaccine. I hope they dont feel to bad. 

Sleep good everyone. Take care of yourselves. 

[mystery666]

Dreams of a better love

Part two of dreams of a better life

Charles was smiling so happily at this guy who had black hair which seemed very messy and long and had some dirt in it. This guy also had blood-red eyes but his pupils were completely black how had this guy become Charles's boyfriend. His name was Levi ygu Charles talked to Ellie while Henry glared at Levi. This guy looked like the exact opposite of Henry himself with black hair and red eyes instead of white hair and blue eyes. Charles hugged his boyfriend and smiled happily at him Levi treated him very well and was sweet to him but was rude to everyone else. Charles walked him and his boyfriend to a hidden home away from everyone Charles giggled excitedly. Levi began to show the beginning stages of an abusive relationship with Charles but Charles didn't pick up on those signals. Henry Ellie Levi and Charles went to a nice coffee shop Charles got himself a mint hot chocolate with whipped cream and extra sugar. Henry got a coffee with cream Ellie got black coffee while Levi got something that the menu didn't say anything about. It was baby mice wine (chosen because drinking babies is evil).

Levi's favorite food was allegedly haggis and raw honey even though he had an allergy to bee venom. However, while Henry was watching Levi he saw something truly horrible. Through Henry stalking Levi, he discovered that not only did he have terrible taste in food but Levi was a murderer. Levi had captured four friends and had forced three of them to watch him torturing the most loved one. This guy was named Jeffery who said he just wanted attention so Levi tied their heads in place. Henry took pictures of this and stopped Levi right after he had plunged a chainsaw into Jeffery's stomach while the other captives cried because of this. Jasmine Jeffery's younger sister hugged her brother's bleeding corpse crying for her brother to wake up. "No Jeffery you're my beloved brother please don't go this can't be the end it can't you were supposed to live longer than this" jasmine cried while the other two friends were either in shock or couldn't process what had happened. Henry growled at Levi who was sentenced to death Henry took care of Charles protecting him with his life because Levi had sworn Charles until death do they part.

"I can't believe Levi was this bad he was nice too, me" Charles said "Charles he hurt you, he raped you, he used you he called you worthless when your not." Henry said "he's right no one cared for me besides you and maybe Ellie my sister didn't care," Charles said. "Charles don't you ever say that again it couldn't be further from the truth. Don't ever believe something so absurd in the near or distant future every life is precious and worth protecting yours is no different your precious to me" Henry practically yelled. Charles gasped as he was pulled into a hug by his friend his breathing stuttered "now Charles sit down and tell me everything" Henry said. Charles cried softly as he was hugged Henry got an extra-large mint hot chocolate which the size of Charles's head and was girthy like his head as well. Charles looked at a large amount of whipped cream on top and the doughnuts Henry had bought him. Charles began to cry but he was smiling because Henry was trying so hard to comfort him and it was appreciated in Charles's time of depression and self-inflicted cuts.

Henry, life is suffering all I can think of is my death and my desire for it to end every time I look at my knife I think of using it as an escape but that's too messy. Two days ago I thought of overdosing on some pills swallowed in vain and it didn't work I thought of my pistol. I aimed it at my head but I couldn't do it because I was scared something inside told me not to do it I just wanted to sleep and never wake up again but I was too much of a coward to go through. I-i'm so scared" Charles cried tears falling hiccups and sobs came out as he allowed everything to rush forward allowing himself to cry. Next thing Charles knew he was in henrys arms crying into his best friend's chest feeling his throat and chest constrict painfully preventing him from breathing properly. "Henry no don't do this I'm not supposed to be happy the world is torturing me for being so weak. this feels so nice and it's scary" Charles said looking up at Henry who continued to hold him close. "Charles I promise I'll protect you forever you'll never have to be alone ever again. I'll stay with you until you can get those negative thoughts out of your head and mine your my best friend. You deserve to be treated better than you have been in the past" Henry whispered and Charles sniffled before giving a pained but genuine smile.

[shadowofthelamp]

A list of Zim’s Schemes

This is mostly for my own use to figure out a ‘pattern’ of sorts so I can come up with ideas for Zim to be planning to feel authentic my own fics. Some were more implied as they’re mentioned offhandedly. I cut the ones that aren’t really ‘plottish’ relating to invading like Germs. I threw a couple of personal observations at the end. (Sorry to mobile people if the readmore doesn’t work)

SEASON 1

-Infiltrating a human school

-Using a human as a ‘friend’ to blend in

-Something to do with laser weasels

-Entering Dib’s body via mini-ship to mess with it and force Dib to get rid of evidence of him being an alien 

-Using the robo-parents as his ‘real parents’ to blend in

-Consuming human organs to be ‘more human’ and blend in

-Attempting to retrieve his ship from humans who had captured it- notable for having complete control of a crowd of humans that he didn’t brainwash and being uncomfortable with it

-Dropping a giant water balloon on Dib in retaliation for being basically tortured by water earlier in the episode

-Trying to figure out how to control the world’s population via fast food. (Considering his species seems really attached to junk food, not an unreasonable assumption)

-Saving the planet from Planet Jackers because it’s his to conquer/destroy.

-Something to do with shooting chickens into space after spinning them around

-Hypnotizing his schoolmates and using said hypnosis to force Dib to give him information about a weak spot in his security.

-Using time travel to erase Dib from existence

-Using a wormhole and moose to get rid of his bullying classmates, especially Dib

-Mutating a hamster to massive sizes, with the intent to make humans bow to him because they can’t resist its cuteness

-Tries to interrogate a baby, then dispatches with the Na’gok via stupidity ray

-Captures Dib who snuck into the base with the intent of performing horrible experiments on him

-Sell candy for a fundraiser to get the ‘mystery prize’

-Return movie to avoid suspicion by the FBI

-Turn Dib into bologna for setting off his allergies

-Find use for Mars, and then, use it to squish out all life on Earth

-Try to make Dib look bad on TV

-Sabotage the PEG to blow up the planet, after using a Dib robot to walk past security. (Probably one of his more elaborate plans. Why did he have a Dib robot, though? I can’t imagine he made it in the span of like... two hours.)

-Not Earth-related but go through extra training to get weapons

-While doing time field experiments on Dib, has to deal with the slow explosion

-Gets a giant stealth mech, immediately attempts to kill Dib with it

-Pumping cows full of sewage to taint the food supply

-Attempts to put GIR into defensive mode to make him more useful, changes a guy’s brain who sees him with a squid’s

-Puts Dib in some kind of virtual life simulator to make him admit he threw a muffin at him

-Stop Tak

_______

SEASON 2

-Controlling the Massive to get the Tallests to watch his plan about unleashing a brain-eating parasite on the humans

-Infecting the city with genetically enhanced vermin

-We never found out in Zim Eats Waffles, but he’s got a happiness-inducing brain probe (possibly for human slaves to make them more docile?) and a demon mutant cyborg squid, so that’s something

-Messes with Dibship and tries to get it to get rid of Dib

-Wants weapons from the ‘Plakoosians’, gets them. Also something to do with a globe stuffed in a fishbowl- maybe making the fish giant like Peepi, or shrinking the planet?

-Uses the skool election to try and gain power

-Packed Gir full of monkey explosives

-Pretends to be Santa to make humans obey him and build a teleporter to be beamed to the Tallests as slaves.

_______

MOVIE:

-Sit in a toilet for like a year to get Dib out of shape and even more obsessive than usual, then bring Earth to where the Tallests can’t ignore it.

_______

THOUGHTS

-Of these, three/four (depending on if you count Mysterious Mysteries where he tries to discredit Dib) were pretty much for the sole purpose of ‘blending in/appearing more human’. 

-Nine involve animals (ten if you count rubber piggies, I guess, eleven if you count the brain-eating parasite)

-Megadoomer, Bolognius, Dib’s WLOD, and objectively Mysterious Mysteries are all super petty.

-I was originally going to say The Wettening was petty too, but nah, he earned that. I still hold to my theory that that episode was a reworking of the pilot (the plot to both is ‘Zim discovers an allergy to an earth thing and Dib immediately tries to exploit it, leading to them both building machines to trying and get back at each other using the allergy thing) and it’s Dib at his most sadistic.

-One thing from the show bible that sticks with me is that a lot of plots could be derived from him taking what he hears other students/humans saying seriously, like someone mentioning cooties and him demanding more information on this strange disease. This is where Door to Door/Career Day/sort of FBI Warning especially come in.

-Utilizing gaps in his knowledge about humans (like babies being not a threat) can be used in tandem with that ^^^

-Zim is pretty competent when it comes to actually building things, he just doesn’t really think beyond whatever the next step of his plan is. IE: With Peepi, the idea of increasing the size of an Earth animal that seems to immobilize humans isn’t a bad one, but he didn’t think to brainwash said animal to listen to him. Or making an energy-absorbing blob, again without some kind of failsafe built in. 

-He also seems to enjoy experimenting on Earth animals, although that’s probably because it’s fun to play with alien stereotypes.

-He’s somewhat protective of Earth, in a possessive ‘only I get to destroy it’ way. He wants to impress the Tallest with this planet, and that means it needs to be in one piece long enough to get them here. He’s still totally willing to demolish parts of it if need be, though, see the Wettening or Hampstergeddon or Battle of the Planets.

-Oftentimes, his plans are prompted by something Dib did to either annoy or try to expose him.

[emmerrr]

omg em ❤️ if you can you could write about pynch snowed in + lynch brothers

anonymous asked: prompt: adam and ronan snowed in at Christmas and using the time to bake and watch bad Christmas movies and be soft and make out, please?

anonymous asked: pynch baking cookies, but Ronan is allergic to cinnamon and Adam doesn’t know that and Ronan doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to ruin the moment

(i’ve merged all these prompts together into something that’s kind of what you all wanted, i hope it’s okay! also this is also on ao3 here)

-

When Adam was finally home for the holidays, he and Ronan still had three full days alone before Declan and Matthew were due to arrive on Christmas Eve.

Adam planned on making full use of them.

Day one involved doing very little. They had a lazy morning, trying — albeit not very hard — and failing to get out of bed several times, alternating between coaxing the other back into the warmth whenever one of them got even close to getting up. Tired, unhurried kisses were shared under the covers, hands wandering slowly, fingers grazing bare skin, muffled laughter into necks. Quiet, nonsensical conversations that tapered out until one and then the other drifted back to sleep, before rousing again some time later, limbs entangled in the little cocoon they had created.

Eventually, hunger motivated them to move downstairs, where they cooked up a mountain of breakfast food in the kitchen before heading to the living room to make a blanket fort and watch Christmas movies for the rest of the day.

They’d made it through Elf, Gremlins, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and — because Ronan inexplicably loved it — The Holiday, before they stopped to make another mountain of food, for dinner this time. Once they’d eaten their fill, dishes were thrown into the sink to soak (probably overnight as it was highly unlikely they’d get to them before heading to bed), and then, arms slung around each other, they retreated back to their living room blanket fort for more movies.

Adam couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a day like this. A nothing day. Even the blissful summer with Ronan had been interspersed with work, and they’d spent most of their free time outside anyway. Today, Adam had barely even looked out of the window, too busy soaking up time missed, time with Ronan, time he wasn’t going to take for granted.

They were so full they could hardly move, but they still lay sprawled over each other in their blanket fort, made even softer by all the cushions Ronan had scattered. They watched both Home Alone movies back to back, Adam drowsily and unnecessarily pointing out all the ways in which Harry and Marv should be dead, if not incapacitated at the very least. When Marv got hit in the head by the fourth brick in Home Alone 2, he threw his hands up in exasperation.

“This is ridiculous. Just one of those from that height would kill him, and I’m supposed to believe he can take four and just walk it off?”

Ronan laughed fondly; Adam felt it rumble through where his head was rested on Ronan’s chest. “See, Parrish, this is what’s called a ‘movie’, and in movies, we’re supposed to suspend our disbelief.”

Adam rolled his eyes, lifted his head, and shoved a cushion in Ronan’s face, all in one smooth movement. “I know what a movie is you patronising ass. I’m just saying. They’re asking me to suspend an awful lot of disbelief, that’s all.”

“Okay, college boy,” Ronan said with a sage nod, before Adam shut him up with a kiss.

Between make-outs and more movie complaints, they ended up falling asleep down there before Adam rolled over and onto the hard floor and woke himself up. He dragged a disgruntled Ronan up to bed with him where they fell asleep again almost instantly, clutched close together, sharing warmth.

The next day was a shopping day, as tempting as a repeat of the day before was. Ronan had already got the essentials before Adam had got there, but they needed a few extra flourishes, snacks and drinks.

When they got back to the Barns and unloaded the car, Ronan stopped before reaching the porch steps. He tilted his head back and took a deep breath, eyes closed.

“It’s going to snow,” he said.

Adam looked up at the sky. It was undoubtedly cold and grey, but there had been no snow forecast. He remained dubious.

“You think?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

Ronan grinned. “Because I really, really want it to snow.”

It didn’t snow, not for the rest of the day, nor was there any sign of snow when they awoke the next morning. Ronan’s good mood was unaffected, however, and as he set about farmyard chores, Adam took over the kitchen to make gingerbread cookies.

He’d found a recipe that seemed simple enough online, and there were Christmas themed cookie cutters in one of the drawers, so he was all set. The dough didn’t take long to bring together and while it was chilling in the fridge, he went outside to help Ronan.

Ronan was almost done so Adam just waited for him to finish tidying up one of the barns and then they leisurely walked back towards the house. Halfway back, Ronan complained that he was tired and couldn’t possibly go on, so Adam gave him a piggyback, which involved a lot of swaying and almost overbalancing as Ronan was pretty heavy.

When they reached the porch, Adam dropped Ronan unceremoniously and went to lean against the railing, looking out at the grounds. There was a crispness in the air, and Ronan’s cheeks and nose were pink from being out in the cold for a while. Adam could see his breath mist in the air as he took in the view. It struck him that he’d never seen the Barns in snow, but that he’d very much like to.

Strong, sturdy arms enveloped him from behind, and he felt Ronan perch his chin on Adam’s shoulder. He twisted a little, enough so that he could reach to kiss Ronan’s cold cheek.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ronan asked.

Adam smiled. “I’m just wishing for snow.”

“It’s coming, Parrish. Trust me.”

Adam pressed back, snug in Ronan’s arms. “I do.”

Back inside, Ronan went to shower to warm up, and when he didn’t reappear, Adam found him napping, half-dressed on top of the bed. Adam threw a soft blanket over him, pressed a kiss to his temple, and left him to it.

Reasoning that his cookie dough had chilled long enough now, Adam set about rolling, cutting, and baking. There was enough dough to fill two baking trays full of cookies of various shapes; Christmas trees, snowmen, reindeer, and stars.

When they were out of the oven and cooling, Adam made some icing to decorate. There were only two food colourings to be found in the pantry, but luckily they were red and green, which seemed appropriately festive.

Using those two colours, plus a plain white, he set about decorating. They weren’t the neatest, but they were bright and cheerful, and clearly very homemade, which was exactly what he had been going for. He was just finishing icing his last one, a nice red star, when Ronan walked into the kitchen, pulling on a hoodie.

He yawned and smiled at Adam, adorably sleep-rumpled. Then he clocked the iced cookies on a plate.

“Oh, jackpot.” He grabbed a Christmas tree one and took a giant bite before Adam could stop him.

“Hey, I’ve only just finished them, the icing won’t even be fully set yet,” he said.

Ronan grinned, unapologetic, then took another bite. “S’good, Parrish,” he said with his mouth full.

“Good. Save the rest for tomorrow when your brothers get here.”

“Yes, boss,” Ronan said. He’d slowed down chewing his second bite, and he gave the cookie a closer look. Then he put it down, unfinished, and got himself a glass of water.

Adam frowned. “What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Ronan said airily, then cleared his throat a couple of times. “Just…they don’t have cinnamon in them, by any chance, do they?”

“Of course they do, it’s gingerbread. Why?”

“No reason. I’m just like, mildly allergic to cinnamon. It’s no big deal.”

“Did you just say you’re allergic?”

“I said ‘mildly’.”

“Fuck, Ronan! Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Ronan was rooting through the cupboards until he finally found a little packet of tablets. “Nah, it’s fine, I’ll just take an antihistamine.”

He swallowed a tablet with water, and Adam watched him warily. “Your throat’s not gonna close up then?”

Ronan shook his head with a smile. “No. I told you, it’s a mild allergy. It just makes my throat itch and maybe irritates my eyes a little or makes me sneeze. But I only took two bites of one cookie so it’s fine, it’s not like I ate a whole fucking spoonful.”

Adam crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you ask if there was any cinnamon in them before you took an enormous bite? And for that matter, why, when I said I was making gingerbread cookies, did you not say not to put any in because you’re allergic?”

Ronan cocked his head to the side, crooked smile on his face that would have a different effect on Adam if he weren’t already annoyed. “Do I look like I know what goes in gingerbread cookies?”

Adam sighed. “Ronan it’s a pretty standard festive spice, it’s in almost everything this time of the year. And anyway, why didn’t you tell me you had an allergy? Is there anything else?”

Ronan shrugged. “No? Don’t think so. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t even think about it. It’s not a Gansey allergy, it’s not gonna kill me.”

“It better not, because if it does, I’ll kill you.”

“Fair.”

Adam finished the cookie Ronan had half eaten, pleased that it did actually taste nice. He’d have to make some normal sugar cookies now as well, that Ronan could eat.

“You wanna help me make some more cookies?” he asked. “I promise I won’t poison you this time.”

Ronan mulled this over, finishing his water as he did. “Do I get to decorate?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

Baking, Adam discovered, was more fun when Ronan was there. It was messier, and it took longer thanks to impromptu powdered sugar fights followed by make-out truces, but infinitely more fun.

He went to bed that night feeling full and festive and excited for the next few days.

The next day was Christmas Eve, and Declan and Matthew arrived at around midday. An hour later, it started to snow.

Ronan ran outside, whooping delightedly. “What did I tell you, Parrish? What did I fucking say?”

Declan looked up at the sky with a frown. “I hope it doesn’t stick. I need to be back in DC on the 27th.”

Adam looked across to where Ronan and Matthew were chasing each other around, slipping where the snow was starting to stick. The flakes were thick and fluffy and falling fast with no end in sight. He shrugged. “That’s three days away, I’m sure however much sticks will be gone by then. And you’ve got nowhere better to be now, right?”

Declan was watching his brothers too, and he half smiled. “No, I guess not.” He turned to Adam. “By the way, were those gingerbread cookies in the kitchen? Because Ronan can’t have one, he’s allergic to cinnamon.”

“God, yeah, I know that now, he took two giant bites of one before he realised what was in it. It wasn’t actually my intention to poison him for Christmas.”

Ronan and Matthew had circled back around, and were in earshot again so Ronan caught what they were talking about. He hopped up to the railing of the porch where Adam stood and kissed him on the cheek.

“For the last fucking time, I’m mildly allergic.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam said fondly, catching his hand in Ronan’s collar to pull him close and kiss him properly.

Back inside, Declan made hot drinks and Ronan made a fire, and they all settled down in the living room to watch more Christmas movies

“Can we watch Home Alone next?” asked Matthew after they’d finished The Muppets Christmas Carol.

“No, because otherwise Parrish will literally never shut up about medical inaccuracies.”

But they did watch it again, because it was Matthew’s favourite, and Adam napped through it anyway, cozy under a blanket with Ronan’s arm around him.

Declan disappeared for a while to make them all dinner, and after they’d eaten they played a few old board games that Ronan had found buried in a cupboard somewhere.

It grew late, and everyone started yawning, and eventually they all trickled off the bed.

And all the while, the snow continued to fall.

On Christmas Day, they woke up to picture-perfect views outside, pristine snow that had been undisturbed. They spent the morning eating Adam’s homemade cookies, drinking coffee, and opening presents under the tree.

Ronan had got Santa hats for everyone that he insisted they all wear; Adam’s was green, Matthew’s was red, Ronan’s was black, and Declan’s was blue. There was music and laughter, and wrapping paper crushed into balls and thrown around for Chainsaw to chase. There was thank you’s and hugs and headlocks. Given that there were only four of them, cooking dinner wasn’t particularly an ordeal, and they all helped, and they all cleared up afterwards before finally piling outside to make their mark on the snow.

It had been stopping and starting again all day, and was already very deep. They didn’t venture far, sticking close to the house as they built snowmen and had snowball fights. Adam ducked as Ronan threw one at him, and it instead hit the shed behind him. A whole chunk of snow from the roof of the shed dislodged with the impact, fell forward and cascaded down over Adam, getting freezing snow down his coat and soaking his hat.

He dusted himself off and glared at Ronan, shivering. “You’ll pay for that.”

Ronan laughed, but it faltered a little when Adam started rolling up a giant snowball. “It was an accident, babe, I’m sorry — Parrish, truce!”

When all four of them were soaked through with chattering teeth and it was starting to get dark out, they traipsed back inside for warming baths or showers, and by the time they were all, the snow was falling heavily again. Declan made them all leftover turkey sandwiches, and then it was another night in the warm living room with movies and games and stories, and laughing so hard it made their stomachs hurt.

It was a family Christmas, the way Adam had always imagined family Christmases to be.

It snowed all through the night, and Boxing Day greeted them with snow that was well over Matthew’s knees when he went out to investigate. The cars in the driveway were well and truly covered, and Declan spent a large part of the morning trying to dig them out, and also clear some of the driveway, before they heard on the radio that the road beyond the Barns was currently impassable, so there didn’t seem much point.

Matthew and Ronan were very keen to go sledging down one of the hills that backed onto the property, but it was incredibly difficult to try and wade through the deep snow, and when one of Matthew’s wellington boots got caught on something resulting in him accidentally stepping out of it, they decided to give up and try again when some of the snow had thawed.

They went back to the house, cold and wet with freezing, soaked jeans stuck to their legs.

“Whose bright idea was that?” Ronan said as they all stood in front of the fire, getting some warmth back into their bones.

“Pretty sure it was yours,” Adam supplied helpfully.

“What? Nah, all my ideas are fucking great. This has Matthew written all over it.”

“That’s fair,” said Matthew sagely. He looked up at Declan. “Do we still have to go tomorrow? I don’t want to leave before we get a chance to go sledging.”

Declan ruffled his brother’s curls amiably. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure you’ll get your chance. Looks like we’re stuck for at least another couple of days.”

Ronan looked up sharply before schooling his expression. Adam thought he was trying not to look too invested in this development. “What about work?” he asked carefully.

Declan shrugged. “I already emailed them. Not much I can do about the weather, is there?”

Ronan nodded, then looked back to the fire, a tiny smile on his face. “Guess not.”

“There’s not something you can do about the weather, is there? Magic up a heating fan for me?”

Ronan snorted. “A heating fan big enough to melt enough of the snow to get you to the interstate? I mean, I could try, but I’m not gonna.” He elbowed Declan playfully. “Think you should stick around here and have fun instead. It’ll do you some good.”

“Yeah, Declan,” Matthew said.

“Yeah, Declan,” Adam added.

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, point made. Now,” he clapped his hands together, “who’s up for a game of Monopoly?”

“Oh finally, Fun Declan has entered the building,” Ronan said, and Matthew burst out laughing.

“What? It’s the Pokémon edition, it is fun.”

“Really?” Ronan said, suddenly serious. “Fuck yeah, let’s play Pokémon Monopoly.”

After two games, of which Adam won both, he and Ronan wrapped up warm and went outside again.

It took them the better part of the afternoon, but they managed to build a pretty stable little igloo, just big enough for two. They crawled inside, careful not to accidentally take out part of the ceiling, and Ronan pulled a bunch of dream lights out of his pocket and threw them into the air.

They hung there, giving the space a warm glow entirely at odds with how goddamn cold it was. Ronan wasn’t wearing gloves, so Adam covered his hands in his own and rubbed them gently.

“Is this romantic as fuck or what, Parrish.”

“It’s romantic as fuck,” Adam agreed. “You should probably kiss me now, before we get frostbite.”

Not needing any more encouragement, Ronan leaned forward, cold noses on cold cheeks, smiling into kisses, huddled close for warmth.

Adam pulled away with a lazy smile. “Ready to go in?”

Ronan sighed. “I guess.”

“I can kiss you better in the warmth.”

“You’ll have to prove it to me.”

Crunching footsteps outside sounded, approaching fast, before Matthew called out, “Oh, an igloo, cool!”

“Matthew, wait!” Ronan yelled quickly, but Matthew was already trying to crawl through. He wasn’t as careful as Adam and Ronan had been, and, bear of a boy he was, his shoulder barged through one side of the entryway, and then the whole damn thing caved in, collapsing snow soaking them to the skin yet again.

“Oops,” Matthew said. “Sorry! I’ll build a new one.” He stood up and reached a hand out to both Adam and Ronan, helping them up from where they were now half-buried in the snow.

“You fuckin’ better,” Ronan said, then lunged for his younger brother, who leapt away with a delighted laugh. Ronan chased him back towards the house, Adam following at a slower pace as he dusted himself free of as much snow as he could. Cold and soaking wet was a feeling he was becoming entirely too familiar with, but he couldn’t find it in him to mind. Not when fun was the cause, and when warming up again was so nice.

The next day, the sun came out, and the thaw began.

They finally had the chance to go sledging, although making it over to the hill Ronan had in mind was still a bit of an ordeal as the snow was still fairly deep. There were only two sledges, a traditional looking wooden one, and a red plastic one. Ronan had also brought some plastic bags with him, stuffed into his coat pocket, which apparently worked just as well. Adam wouldn’t know; he couldn’t remember if he’d ever been sledging before.

Declan went first on the wooden sledge. He picked up speed so fast that when the ground leveled off he went flying over a small bump in the ground and into a copse of trees, disappearing. A moment later, he emerged looking sheepish, holding the now very broken sledge in his hands.

It took him a couple of minutes to get back up the hill to the rest of them, and Ronan just raised an eyebrow in question.

“I crashed into a tree,” Declan said matter-of-factly.

Ronan laughed. “See, this is why I should always drive.” He clapped Declan on the shoulder. “It’s all good, that sledge was fucking ancient anyway. Who’s next. Matthew? Parrish?”

Matthew held out a hand. “Bag me.”

“You don’t want the red one?”

“Nah. The bags are faster.”

Ronan handed him one, and Matthew arranged it just so, sitting on it so that the handles could act as a steering wheel. Adam was curious to see how well it would work, and to be fair it really was incredibly fast. The only problem seemed to be stopping, but Matthew handled this by rocking over onto his side until he eventually skidded to a halt.

Adam gave Ronan a knowing look. “This is going to end in scabs and bruises, isn’t it?”

Ronan grinned. “All in the name of fun.” He put the red sledge at the top of the hill. “Wanna ride with me?”

“I am not getting on that thing with you.”

“Parrish.” Ronan patted the seat. “Get in there.”

Adam sighed. He got in, as he always did. Ronan immediately hopped on the back and his momentum rocketed them forward and down the hill. Ronan’s arms were around him and holding onto the little rope that passed for steering, and he let out a happy swear as they sped down the hill. Adam laughed, exhilarated by the speed and caught up in Ronan’s infectious enthusiasm.

When they approached the bottom and didn’t seem to be slowing down, Adam yelled, “How do we stop?”

“Good question!” Ronan yelled back, but he managed to turn it enough to slow down the momentum, and soon enough they’d dropped enough speed to bail out without causing any injuries.

Ronan lay sprawled on his back in the snow, still laughing. Adam crawled over from where he’d ended up and hovered over Ronan.

“Happy?” he asked.

Ronan grabbed Adam around the waist, and hugged him close. “Yes, Adam. I’m fucking happy.”

They kissed messily, joyfully, both cold and warm at the same time. Ronan leaned back and smiled. “Have you had a good Christmas?”

“The best,” Adam replied, kissing Ronan again, because he could and he wanted to. Then he abruptly got to his feet and started running. “Last one up the hill does all the washing up!”

“Parrish, wait up, no fair!”

[perioddonkey3]

Fat Freezing Bournemouth.

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Content

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The chance for rejuvenation - Western Advocate

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Posted: Wed, 10 Jun 2020 07:00:00 GMT [source]

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Posted: Wed, 15 Jan 2020 08:00:00 GMT [source]

[angstmatsuscenarios]

How about an Ichimatsu sickfic? I believe that’s within the limits of the rules. I dunno, maybe he tried to play it off as nothing, but stuff happens? I’ll just leave the rest to you. I rly like this blog and I’m excited to see the ask box open again!

Sickfic is not only welcome but also my forte, hehe. Here is some Ichi sickfic for you, hope you enjoy!

Warning for a brief mention of needles (drawing blood, very brief and non-graphic) under the cut:

At first Ichimatsu didn’t give much thought to the fatigue and sore throat he’d been suffering through all day--it had been annoying, but he figured it was probably just allergies, and had kept his face mask on the whole day. He’d felt lousy for the past couple of weeks, and figured it was nothing too bad.

By that night, though, he felt worse--he’d had no appetite at dinner, and it took nearly all of his energy to follow his brothers to the bathhouse. The soak in the hot water felt good to his aching muscles, but the walk home was excruciating, his legs trudging along slowly and his whole body shivering even though it wasn’t that cold out. When they finally got back home all he could do was crawl into the futon the second it was laid out and curl up in his spot, burying his face deep in the blankets.

“Does Ichimatsu seem okay to you?” he overheard Osomatsu ask the remaining brothers. 

“He looks rather pale, and he’s shaking…” Karamatsu noted, a hint of concern in his voice. “Perhaps he’s fallen ill?”

“Then we should force him to sleep in the other room,” Todomatsu asserted. “What if he’s contagious?”

“Have some heart for once, Todomatsu,” Choromatsu admonished him. “He’s wearing a mask, and besides, when has splitting us up ever stopped us from catching each other’s colds anyway?”

“I’m sure he’ll be okay!” Jyushimatsu said with assurance. “But he looks tired, we should let him rest.”

“Fine...but if we’re all coughing and sneezing by the next morning, don’t blame me,” Todomatsu replied curtly.

Ichimatsu would’ve chimed in with a “shut up and die, Todomatsu” had his throat not hurt so badly. Instead he hunkered down deeper in bed and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep and hoping he’d feel better in the morning.

-----------

Mhhh….I feel horrible….

It was the first thought to flicker in Ichimatsu’s mind as he sluggishly came to the next morning. He felt truly miserable, it had been a long time since he’d ever felt this sick...if he had before, now that he thought of it. He was dripping in sweat and wracked with chills all at once, his throat burned more painfully than it ever had before, and he was aware of a dull ache in his side. Not to mention, he was exhausted.

He sat up, slowly, but that brought on a wave of dizziness that made him feel like laying right back down again. His temples pulsated with an awful headache, and he brought his hands up to rub his bleary eyes and will some of the wooziness to go away. It didn’t.

Dammit….guess it wasn’t just allergies after all….

He groaned, reluctantly crawling out from under the futon. He was alone in the room--he assumed his brothers had gotten up to go eat breakfast and had left him to rest. The thought of food suddenly made him feel nauseous, but as much as he wanted to just go straight back to sleep he knew he at least needed to get medicine.

He stood slowly, the room swaying and his head spinning. He shuffled on wobbly legs into the hallway, pressing his hand against the wall for support. Every step was grueling, requiring so much effort it caused sweat to bead up on his forehead. 

What...the hell...is wrong with me…?

He was close to the stairs, just a few more steps...he gingerly put one foot in front of the other, then again…

But suddenly his legs gave out on him, folding so that he hit the floor with a weak grunt. He leaned all his weight against the wall, unable to support himself, whimpering quietly as he rubbed the sore spot on his side. 

Something’s wrong...this isn’t just the flu, is it…?

“Ichimatsu-niisan!”

Ichimatsu had been so zoned out he didn’t notice Jyushimatsu thundering up the stairs until he was by his side, kneeling next to him with a worried expression on his face. 

“Are you okay? I heard a thud, did you fall?” Jyushimatsu asked, and although he wasn’t exactly shouting his voice was loud enough to Ichimatsu’s pounding head to make his ears ring.

“N-no...don’t feel good…” Ichimatsu managed to groan out a response, his throat stinging so badly it made his eyes water. 

Jyushimatsu frowned. “You look awful...look at your neck, your glands are really swollen. And you’re super pale…” 

Still rambling, Jyushimatsu helped Ichimatsu slowly back to his feet. Ichimatsu was just barely aware as his brother practically carried him back to the sextuplets’ room and tucked him back into bed. All the while he wore an anxious expression that was very unlike the sunny fifth son’s usual disposition.

“I’m gonna get Mom, okay?” Jyushimatsu said, lightly patting Ichimatsu’s head. “She’ll help you, she always knows what to do.”

Ichimatsu only managed a feeble moan in response, closing his eyes. He’d never been this miserable when sick before, and it scared him...even scarier was that he didn’t have the energy to be as scared as he probably should be. He could only hope his mother could help him, though he doubted he would be cured by her gentle touch and homemade soup.

What’s going on…?

----------

After hearing that Ichimatsu had nearly passed out, Matsuyo insisted on taking him to the doctor. He hated doctors, but he was so out-of-it that he simply put up with the poking and prodding and blood-taking without much fuss (that was a real sign of how sick he was--he didn’t put up a fight when he saw the needle, just turned his head in the other direction and kept his eyes shut tight when his blood was drawn).

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before they received a diagnosis...but unfortunately, it was more serious than anticipated. According to the doctor Ichimatsu had mononucleosis. That explained why he’d felt so run-down for the last few weeks, and also why the glands in his neck were so swollen. The doctor went on to explain that it was the reason Ichimatsu’s side hurt, too--his spleen was swollen, a fact that thoroughly freaked him out, though the doctor said as long as he was careful not to injure his spleen and cause it to rupture the swelling would most likely go down sooner rather than later (the word “rupture” only induced more panic).  

There wasn’t much that could be done to treat mono, either--the most vital thing was rest. It could take weeks, even months, for someone to recover completely from mono, Ichimatsu discovered, and while it didn’t affect him too much since he had no job or school to worry about...the idea of being sick for so long was scary. He couldn’t imagine going more than a few days feeling this crappy, but weeks? Months?! Not to mention, it meant staying home and resting that whole time...he wasn’t much for leaving the house to begin with, but not be able to visit his cat friends in the alley, or join his brothers when they went to Chibita’s? He hated the thought of being excluded from all of that for who knew how long.

The doctor tried to be reassuring, insisting it was possible to have a speedier recovery as long as he took good care of himself, but all Ichimatsu felt was dread. It was awful news, he couldn’t even pretend there was a bright side to it. 

When Ichimatsu got home from the doctor, he’d found his brothers had set up a temporary room for him in the spare room. It wasn’t just that his mono was potentially contagious, but they insisted it would be easier for him to recuperate if he had peace and quiet while he rested. He wanted to call bull on that last claim, but was so tired that he just crawled right into his futon in his “new” room and went right to sleep without protest.

Days passed by. It wasn’t long before Ichimatsu started to feel bored and lonely. He felt marginally better than he had the first couple of days, but he was still nowhere near well, and the thought was depressing to him that he’d have a long time of feeling this way.  

He spent most of his time sleeping. He didn’t have the energy for much else. Sometimes his mother popped in to give him food (which he hardly ate—his throat hurt too much and his appetite was pretty much nonexistent), and other times one of his brothers would pay a quick visit (wearing a mask, not surprisingly). It was nice, but not the same as being with them like usual, and once they left he felt sad again. 

Gradually, though, Jyushimatsu began spending more and more time with him. He’d sit at Ichimatsu’s bedside for hours, playing a game or reading a manga or sorting his baseball cards—activities he didn’t always possess much patience for, being as active as he was. He made light conversation with Ichimatsu, though kept it to a minimum, knowing Ichimatsu wasn’t much for talking. It was the quietest and most still Jyushimatsu had ever been.

Ichimatsu was grateful for the company, but he felt guilty as well. Surely this wasn’t what Jyushimatsu felt like doing—this had to be cutting into his baseball time, which he treasured. Ichimatsu didn’t want both of them to be trapped inside all the time, not when Jyushimatsu was well and could do whatever he wanted.

“Jyushi,” Ichimatsu spoke up one afternoon, his voice rusty. Jyushimatsu had been poring over a baseball book, but perked up at the sound of Ichimatsu’s voice. “You don’t have to stay with me all the time...you can go outside and play baseball or whatever you want. I feel bad if you’re staying in all the time because of me.”

Jyushimatsu offered a bright smile. “But, Ichimatsu-niisan, I am doing what I want!” he insisted, crawling closer to his brother. “It must suck being sick in bed for so long. I wouldn’t want to be alone all the time if it were me. Besides, I have my most fun when I’m with you—even if you can’t do much now, I like being with you. And baseball isn’t the same without you there, either.”

“Really…?” Ichimatsu wasn’t so sure about that. How much fun could he be?

“Really!” Jyushimatsu nodded enthusiastically. “You’re my best friend, I’ll always stay by your side! And it won’t be like this forever either, sooner or later you’ll recover and we can get right back to playing! So just keep your chin up, okay, Niisan?”

Ichimatsu blinked, just a little surprised...not to mention touched. Jyushimatsu really did just want to spend time with him, even if that time consisted of doing nothing more than hanging out in the same room together while he slept. Jyushimatsu really was his best friend, and even though he still felt terrible that realization made him feel just a little better.

“Thank you, Jyushi...I’ll try.”

“You’ll be back to yourself in no time!” Jyushimatsu enthused with a grin that made Ichimatsu believe it. “Anyway, why don’t I read to you from my book until you fall asleep?”

“I’d like that. Thanks.”

With that, Jyushimatsu settled down right beside Ichimatsu and started reading, angling the book so they could both see inside. Ichimatsu wasn’t particularly interested in baseball facts and stats, but it was comforting being read to, and Jyushimatsu’s surprisingly soft voice soon lulled him into sleep.

It would take time for him to get better, but with Jyushimatsu by his side, maybe the road to recovery wouldn’t be as awful as it seemed.