#whump and fluff for life!!!

[fallenwhumpee]

Year of Whump Tropes, January 9, 2025

Day 9: "Are you okay?” “I have not sustained any damage.” “I meant like…emotionally.” • Masterlist •

Warnings: Implied lab whump, fluff.

Approaching Leader had always been impossible. There was a gap between the team and them. The team was trained. Leader was engineered. It made a huge difference in manners and attitudes.

In many ways, it wasn't a big problem. Sure, Leader's bedside manners were terrible, but they were efficient. Often more than a sentiment approach. They were a little oblivious to emotions around them, but they knew how to offer grounding. They were good at knowing when not to push or when to offer comfort, even if the comfort was an awkward pat or praises that never felt too sincere.

Still, they had a chemistry somewhat, and it felt wrong to leave Leader alone when they had taken a hard defeat.

Because Leader made sure all of them were fine before wandering off to somewhere, even though 'fine' was being tended and ordered to rest for a whole month. A little overkill if asked to the team, but that was what the numbers told Leader how long it would take for the team to get back to their feet.

If only Leader would take their own advice...

Sighing, Youngest tiptoed towards the office. They were chosen for this task because Leader had been extra understanding of them, probably because they didn't have much experience under their belt. They had a better chance at getting Leader to the cuddle pile they did after every mission, and Leader avoided like plague.

"I see no reason to attempt stealth when I'm facing the door."

Unfair. Leader was the only one Youngest was unable to sneak around. But they could humour Youngest and calling them out like that was just rude.

"I'm not doing such thing," Youngest denied. "What are you doing?"

"Filling our leave forms."

"When you are on leave?"

Leader looked at Youngest as if Youngest said the lost absurd thing in the world. They sighed when Youngest didn't continue. "Someone should do it."

"You'll do it later. You, too, need some break."

"I don't require maintenance."

"I— that's not what I asked. You look like you haven't slept in days. Are you okay?”

“I have not sustained any damage.”

“I meant like…emotionally.”

Leader looked at Youngest, startled. For the first time, they raised their head from the papers before them, eyes tired and sunken.

"I don't do emotions," Leader muttered.

Youngest pouted.

"Just tell me what you came for, Youngest."

"Don't you think being apart from the team reduces our efficency?" Youngest tried their last card. "It's your responsibility to make sure we are well bonded. And you're failing by being so distant."

"Do you require my presence to communicate efficiently?" Leader asked, a little... surprised? It was hard to tell what they felt. Youngest always struggled.

"It's not that—" Youngest stopped themselves before they began explaining. Leader wouldn't understand. "Just come."

Without a second thought, they dragged Leader to the living room, trapping them into the pile while ignoring Leader's comments about how this was improper or how they acted defective.

Because they gave the best hugs Youngest ever received.

[waywardwizzard]

Story Title: The Dawn Star

Fandom: Firefly (2002)

Link: AO3

Summary: It all started after they opened the cargo.

Never open the cargo. Mal should've learned his lesson after the first time.

Despite a few problems, the crew of Serenity finish the job but are soon roped into another one that may be even more dangerous. A caper is had, not everyone is as they seem and why does nothing ever go smooth?

Warnings: Not very graphic violence, guns, a little bit of blood and attempted hanging

Characters: Malcolm Reynolds, Zoë Washburne, Hoban Washburne, Jayne Cobb, Kaylee Frye, Inara Serra, Shepherd Derrial Book, Simon Tam, River Tam

Pairings: Malcolm Reynolds/Inara Serra (but in the show sense, not in the 'they finally got their sh*t together' sense) and Zoë Washburne/Hoban Washburne. The rest is gen

When I Started: Somewhere in 2022 after I first watched the show. I had this idea for a scene and it inspired this whole fic. Mind you, I only actually started writing this in May 2024

How I Lost My Shit: When my laptop decided to die 3 days ago. It took the whole finished work with it. There was no back-up

How I Finished My Shit: By deciphering my awful hand-written rough rough drafts and by trying to remember what had been written. Also, sheer spite

For @wipbigbang

Also, shoutout to @asynchronouscommunication who is almost single-handedly responsible for me actually finishing this fic. Thank you <3

(NOTE -> This fic is still being updated because real life got in the way. Everything will hopefully be posted by the 25th/26th)

[daniwib]

Dammit I do not want to life I just want to 911

[goldenavenger02]

your shoulders are strained (from holding up the world)

Cole didn’t even have to ask Lloyd if he wanted a hug before he was all but tackled by the green ninja and the sobs started as he curled up close to him; Cole pulled him in tighter with one arm and let his other hand go to his blonde curls as tears soaked through his gi.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here…” Cole trailed off as Lloyd’s sobs grew louder against him and a brief image of an older then he should have been Lloyd curled up on his lap flashed in his mind, “it’s alright, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

(Shoutout to @the-painted-siren for telling me to wrap Lloyd up in a blanket. You helped me indirectly figure out how to end this one)

“And be careful when you hit the desert, there’s always a bit of a harsh wind when you get past the junkyard-”

“Cole,” Vania interrupted him while reaching up to put her hands on his tense shoulders, “Chompy and I rode in here in the midst of an invasion from the embodiment of evil itself, I think we can handle a little wind.”

“I know you can,” Cole agreed, pulling the princess into a hug, “I just want you to be-”

“Safe? I will be,” Vania insisted as she pulled away but not before she gently squeezed his tense shoulder, “but I’ll send a letter as soon as we get back to Shintaro. Promise.”

“Okay.” Cole smiled, which was seemingly a strong enough signal for the princess to climb aboard her dragon, but before they flew away, Plunder spoke up from where he was balanced next to Adam.

“Oh, by the way, one of your friends went down the mountain this morning as I was packing up. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Do you know which one?” Cole’s heart dropped at the idea of losing someone just as soon as they had finally reunited. ‘Kai and Jay could still be coping with what happened to Nya, Zane could have turned off his emotions again, Nya’s powers still aren’t at full strength yet-’

“Korgran saw him too, and so did his ax that doesn’t talk,” Korgan’s rough voice piped up, “the one that wears green. Floyd, maybe? Or is it Dyoll?...”

‘Oh, First Master, there’s no telling where Lloyd would have gone or what is going through his head.’ 

“Thank you, I’m gonna go find him now,” Despite him not wanting them to leave so soon, Cole now had much more urgent things swirling through his head, “have a safe flight, guys.”

He didn’t even see Chompy lift off before he was running down the steps and hoping to see the dark green that didn’t blend in with the plants beginning to grow around the monastery despite the catastrophic explosion.

‘He could be upset about Harumi, his dad, the Overlord…and he told Nya and I that he wasn’t hurt enough for a hospital, but he was still captured for days…’ Cole thought as he quickly scanned every single tree for the familiar jade color of Lloyd’s gi, ‘he wouldn’t lie to both of us…he’s smart enough not to do that now.’

“Come on, Lloyd…” he muttered under his breath, “come on, where are you?”

But despite his pleading, he still couldn’t see any sign of the blonde teenager which only continued to push panic to the forefront of his mind.

‘Maybe he went into town, or maybe he went back to bed,’ Cole considered as he neared the base of the mountain, only to stop when he saw the familiar sight of Lloyd sitting next to the cherry blossom next to the final cliff before the solid ground attached itself to the steps, his legs dangling on the edge and his chin propped up in his hands.

‘Thank the master.’

Cole knew he had to approach carefully when yelling or even just sneaking up on Lloyd could freak him out and send him off the side of the cliff, but he also didn’t want to cause any more emotional distress to whatever Lloyd was feeling.

“Lloyd?” Cole finally spoke up as he kneeled beside Lloyd, keeping his voice steady even when the teenager barely reacted at the sound of his voice, “Plundar and Korgran saw you leave earlier.”

All he did was shrug in response, worrying Cole that Lloyd still wasn’t actually speaking to him.

“I guess that I just wanted to make sure you were okay, since the last few weeks, well…the last year or so, have been really rough on all of us, but especially you,” Cole stopped to breathe and gauge Lloyd’s lack of a reaction, “and I’m not gonna make you talk about it, but I, all of us, we just want you to be okay.”

It seemed as though letting Lloyd know that he could stay quiet, that he wasn’t going to try and pry further than he needed to, was all that he needed for him to finally meet his brown eyes only for Cole to see nothing but tears in the green ones he had grown so used to.

Cold didn’t even have to ask Lloyd if he wanted a hug before he was all but tackled by the green ninja and the sobs started as he curled up close to him; Cole pulled him in tighter with one arm and let his other hand go to his blonde curls as tears soaked through his gi.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here…” Cole trailed off as Lloyd’s sobs grew louder against him and a brief image of an older then he should have been Lloyd curled up on his lap flashed in his mind, “it’s alright, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He couldn’t do anything but let the teenager cry all over his golden armor; he didn’t want to move him or make him cry harder and he didn’t want to say anything that would have piled on the stress of whatever he was feeling.

All Cole could do was hold onto him as tight as he could and comfort him as he always had in the past.

When Lloyd wanted to talk, he would go to Kai, Master Wu or Nya. When he wanted a distraction, he would end up playing video games with Jay or helping P.I.X.A.L with her latest project along with Zane, but if he was just looking for a hug, he’d go to Cole.

Not that Cole could be upset with that, it wasn’t like Lloyd was the only one who ever wanted one of his hugs; in fact, it seemed as though everyone on the team except for Jay and Nya would seek him out particularly for what had been unceremoniously dubbed by Kai as the “weighted blanket effect”.

And sure enough, as Lloyd’s sobs began to slow with sniffling and a couple of hiccups, there was an occasional yawn mixed in and the thought of ‘how much has Lloyd been sleeping?’ briefly crossed his mind.

“Alright, Green Machine,” Cole finally spoke up, gently moving his hand to Lloyd’s hip in order to nudge him off of his rapidly growing numb legs, “let’s get you in bed.”

But as he gently pushed him towards the soft grass, he heard the sound that he had briefly considered but was still dreading, which was Lloyd’s all too familiar sharp inhale of breath that meant that he was injured.

“Lloyd?” Cole struggled to keep his voice steady as he stood up because while Lloyd had been aged up older then he was supposed to be, he knew better than to keep injuries from the rest of them, especially when he had been explicitly asked about it, “I thought you told Nya and I that you weren’t hurt.”

“No…” Lloyd finally spoke with a wince as he pulled himself to his feet, his left hand hovering over his right side, “I said that I wasn’t hurt enough that I needed to go to the hospital.”

“You, will be the death of me and Kai’s brown hair,” Cole sighed as he ran a hand over his tired face before grasping his hand around Lloyd’s wrist, “come on, let’s go find Zane-”

“Don’t tell Kai!” Lloyd shouted as he pulled back against Cole’s grip, “please, I don’t want him to…I already scared him enough.”

“Fine, fine, I won’t tell Kai,” Cole insisted, hoping that his assurance was enough to stop the resistance on his grip, “okay? I won’t tell anyone but Zane, because he’s gonna help me patch you up and maybe P.I.X.A.L, but that’s it.”

“You promise?” Lloyd demanded, his heels still planted firmly in the ground in a mix of defiance and regret.

“I promise.”

And with that, the two started their ascent up the mountain with Cole’s hand still around Lloyd’s wrist in case he decided to go back to his tendency to bolt at the first chance he got.

He couldn’t help but notice that Lloyd had grown quiet again after he had given up on fighting against getting patched up; it wasn’t as concerning as if someone like Jay had stopped talking, but something about how silent the teenager stayed was still worrying.

Luckily, it didn’t take long to get to the makeshift medical wing that had been constructed after the adrenaline of unlocking his Dragon Form had worn off and he could feel the concussion that had nearly gotten him and Kai caught by Pythor.

He maneuvered Lloyd onto one of the cots by the arm with a “stay awake” when he laid down before pulling his hood over his head and clicking the side of his comm set, “hey, Zane?”

“Yes, Cole?” 

“Can you meet me in the medical wing? The makeshift one, across from the hangar bay.” He asked while gently flicking Lloyd’s arm to get him to open his eyes again, which he got in the form of a glare.

“Is it your concussion again?”

“No, I’m fine, it’s just…” he trailed off, remembering Lloyd’s defiance at the thought of Kai knowing that he was hurt, “I just need your help with something.”

“Very well, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Zane.” Cole said as he pulled his hood off before flicking Lloyd’s arm again to be met with a glare, “I said stay awake for a reason, you could have a concussion.”

“Mean,” Lloyd scowled, “I don’t have a concussion.”

“Well, if you had been honest with Nya and I, I’d believe you,” Cole snapped back before forcing himself to calm down as soon as he saw Lloyd’s tired green eyes, “sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine,” Lloyd mumbled while blinking to keep his eyes open, “kinda used to it.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“Kai gets angry when he’s stressed, and I…” Lloyd stopped to try and stop the incoming yawn with little success, “I tend to stress him out a lot, about this kind of stuff.”

“You’re pretty good at stressing all of us out about this kind of stuff.” Cole corrected as the sound of footsteps began to grow louder towards them which finally pried his vision away from Lloyd to see Zane.

“Ah, I see,” Zane spoke before Cole had a chance to explain his previous distress call and started to dig through the cardboard box of medical equipment that had been salvaged or replaced, “is it the head wound again or something else?”

“Head wound? Lloyd-”

“It’s my side, where the Overlord got me.”

“The Overlord? How-”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve asked Zane to patch me up this week.”

“And if he keeps it up, it won’t be the last,” Zane added as he stood up and put the various medical supplies on the metal cart before gesturing to Lloyd’s gi, “that needs to come off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lloyd muttered, his eyes scrunching up with a wince as his hands went to the tie, “Cole? You don’t have to stay, I know this kinda thing freaks you out.”

And it did; the smell of antiseptic was enough to make Cole feel like he was twelve again and watching as his mother became bedridden at home when she wasn’t in the hospital but, he also knew that he would feel guilty if he left Lloyd like this even if it was in Zane’s capable hands.

“Cole, I’m serious,” Lloyd insisted as he let the jade green gi fall to the floor, “patient knows best, right?”

“No, that would be customer knows best,” Zane insisted from where he was washing his hands, “and given how many times I’ve cleaned your wounds, I will assume that you do not know best-”

“This isn’t about me! Okay, it is, but that’s not,” Lloyd stopped speaking to let out a frustrated breath, “Cole, just…you look kinda sick.”

“Fine,” Cole swallowed back his guilt so the claustrophobic trauma would eb away, “fine, I’ll head out. But I am running your laundry while you're here.”

And he did exactly that after walking out of the hangar bay; in fact, he also made sure to start running a load of dishes in their recently-installed dishwasher before Jay had the chance to dismantle it and tidy up the floor of Lloyd’s bedroom, not that he had been given the chance to dirty it up very much.

But doing household chores kept him focused on the task rather than what he was avoiding, which had been a perk back when he was a young teenager as well as right now when even dirty dishes were better than thinking of his pseudo brother in pain.

And by the time he finished tucking the worn, green quilt over the edge of the mattress, Lloyd was sitting down on the bed while putting down a white pill bottle on the nightstand, the label long since faded.

“What is that?”

“Tylenol. Because when you get a stun gun to the head, fall into a river from five hundred feet up and get electrocuted multiple times by the physical embodiment of evil, the strongest drug you can have is,” he stopped to shake the pill bottle for emphasis, “Tylenol.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“The drugs?” Lloyd raised a confused eyebrow as he reclined onto the pillows at the head of his bed.

“No, what upset you earlier,” Cole said, watching as any signs of joking were wiped off of his face, “I’m not gonna make you, but-”

“I’m fine, I just…” Lloyd trailed off, looking down at his palms, “dad stuff, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Cole said, running his hand over the upper half of his arm, “my dad and I are a lot better now, but…well, I was a few years younger then you are now when everything kinda fell apart.”

“I just…I want to forgive him, but then I remember everything he’s done and it’s…” Cole could hear the sniffles starting to build up into sobs but for whatever reason, Lloyd kept the tears in this time, “I don’t know, I’m probably just too tired.”

“Do you remember the last time you slept all night?”

He stayed quiet as Cole stood up to reach into the bottom drawer of his dresser where Lloyd tended to keep all of the clothes he stole from the others; sure enough, he was met with multiple pairs of Jay’s sweatpants

‘That’s a lot of Jay’s pants.’ Cole thought to himself as he pushed past Nya’s massive red hoodie that had been passed down from both Kai and her dad to reveal his target.

The orange blanket he had taken with him when he had been sent to the Marty Openhiemer, with black embroidered mountains on the corners; his mother had started making it when she first got sick, but Cole had finished it after he had run away. 

But after everything that happened in Shintaro, he found himself being able to part with it and had offered it to Lloyd. 

He knew that Lloyd had run away from Darkley’s with nothing but the clothes on his back and that he had nothing to his name; even as the troublesome boy aged into a well-meaning young adult, he still didn’t have many personal belongings but Cole had so many. 

He had a feeling that his mom would have understood that, if she…no matter how many years continued to pass, thinking about her if she was still around made his heart sink.

“I mean, I guess it was after we returned from The Island.”

“FSM, Lloyd,” Cole sighed as he coaxed him to lay down fully so he could drape the blanket over his bruised shoulders, “I know it’s been hard, but for the love of me not getting my ass kicked by your uncle, go to sleep.”

“He won’t do that, he doesn’t even try to make us go to bed any more.”

“Touche,” Cole chuckled before walking over to the light switch, but unable to bring his hand down over it until he asked, “lights on or off?” 

“Off is fine.”

“Okay,” Cole nodded before engulfing the room in darkness, “do you need me to stay?”

“Nah, just…” he heard the boy swallow nervously before adding, “leave the door open? Just a crack?”

“No sweat. Get some rest, Lloyd.”

And with that, Cole walked out of the room while leaving the door open enough to let a steady stream of light hit the floor, but he didn’t have the chance to even take a full breath, to let himself calm down from the hectic morning when he heard Jay’s yell echo throughout the half-finished walls.

“Where are my sweatpants?!”

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

GREETINGS! So to the handful of gorgeous people who are fans of the The Webs In The Rafters universe, I give you episode one of what I’m calling

Weaving With PCE

Allow me to explain. If you’re an OrangeJuiceVerse enjoyer, chances are you’re familiar with my tumblr bonus series Bedtime Stories With PCE, with little self indulgent snippets set within the OJV. Well, I wanted to do the same for TWITR. (More explanation and the story (!) below the cut)

Now, ofc TWITR is a good deal darker than the OJV, so this bonus series will be a lot more centered around trauma and recovery. I’ll do my best to tag appropriately, but an overarching rule is that these WILL address the events of the main story, Kyle’s ptsd, past abuse, gaslighting, physical trauma, eating disorders, descriptions of injuries, the whole shebang. Fair warning.

For episode one, we’re covering something mentioned in No Strings Attached, the first TWITR sequel: Kyle’s hair being cut short. Here’s how, and why, that went down and the significance of it, in

•Holding Memories•

—————————————————————————-

Exhaustion still has a chokehold on all of them, a week since the fall.

Kenny was out of the hospital now, though still under strict instructions to take it easy, or else face the wrath of Wendy Testaburger. By some connections Stan couldn’t pretend to be surprised by, Cartman had secured the former residents of The Haven several units in an apartment complex on Main Street, all while most of them were still shell shocked and recovering.

Stan didn’t know if Kyle would ever completely recover.

He himself was alright physically after a couple days of painkillers and some rest, when he allowed himself to take a break from worrying about his crew. The only visible reminder of the confrontation with the Spider was the fading bruise on his forehead from their skulls forcibly smashing together.

It was weird, he thought, studying his body in the bathroom mirror like he had plenty of times before. It was weird seeing his bare shoulder without the crisscrossing scars; the mark of The Oath he’d had since he was sixteen.

Sometimes, he thought he could still feel it burning the skin.

Tugging a shirt on, Stan switched the light off and slipped back into the bedroom, relieved to see that his shower hadn’t woken Kyle.

The frail redhead still slept, but uneasily, like his dreams were anything but pleasant. He’d been sleeping a good deal the past few days, his poor, battered body too exhausted to do much else. Soon, the more he started to heal, the more reality would sink in, and the psychological consequences would push to the forefront. They were expecting night terrors, PTSD flashbacks, horrible panic attacks. Stan knew he had to be the strong one here. He was okay as long as Kyle was okay, but Kyle had been through more than any of them. He’d need all the support Stan and their friends could give him.

Stan smiled sadly as his partner whimpered quietly, starting to stir. He’d probably only be up a few hours before needing to rest again. Stan sat down lightly on the edge of the bed, Sansa at his feet.

Green eyes opened about halfway, and Kyle was moaning lowly, his pain awakening faster than he was.

“Hi, dude,” Stan whispered, gently running his fingertips over Kyle’s cheek. “Good morning, Ky.”

“Mm. Hey.”

“How do you feel?”

Kyle grimaced, looking down at himself. “‘Bout as good as I look,” he said shallowly. “And sound.”

The strained breathing was something that hurt Stan’s soul to hear, a raspy reminder of broken ribs and a bruised diaphragm from being beaten and put through the wall. Kyle struggled to sit up.

“Easy,” Stan murmured, moving to help. “Go nice and slow. You dizzy?”

Kyle squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then relaxed a little. “I think I’m okay.”

Stan breathed a sigh of relief. Kyle’s vertigo had returned, though unlike a few years back, they knew what the cause was. Lingering poison in his fragile system made him unsteady and nauseated at any fast movement. It was awful, seeing him wait for a wave to pass, so they always tried to move slowly.

“I think I want to make some tea,” Kyle declared firmly.

“You don’t want me to do it?” Stan asked.

Kyle pushed off the blanket with his good arm, determined expression on his slim face. “Not today, sweetheart. I need to do a few things for myself, okay?”

He didn’t like it, but he knew his Firefly. Kyle was fierce, and stubborn, even when he was practically on the verge of crumbling with every move. Stan moved to the side so he could get up, trying to to resist the urge to hover.

Stan always turned the heat up in the mornings, because Kyle was easily chilled but had started feeling trapped if he was bundled in too much clothing. The thin tank top and sagging pajama shorts only accentuated his gauntness, pale skin littered with bruises in varying stages of healing, bony joints painful to look at. He held his sprained elbow to his chest as he trudged to the kitchen, not liking to sleep in the sling but healing too slowly to straighten his arm comfortably yet.

Was it shitty to say that looking at the love of his life hurt so much?

It wouldn’t forever, Stan told himself. Kyle would get better. They all would.

Stan followed behind, attempting to disguise his protective lingering as making a pot of coffee and filling Sansa’s food bowl. He bit his lip as Kyle struggled to fill up the kettle, hand shaking with the weight.

“Cut it out.”

It was like they could read each other’s minds. Stan feigned innocence. “Uhh, cut what out?”

Focused, Kyle managed to get the kettle on the stove. “Pitying me, Stanley; I’m not helpless.”

“Dude.” Stan planted a gentle hand between his shoulder blades, reaching the other around to turn the burner on and drawing Kyle against his chest. “Baby, I’m not.”

Kyle scoffed.

“I’m not”, Stan insisted. “I can just tell that you’re already hurting this morning, and I want to make sure you’re not straining yourself.”

There was a long pause, and then Kyle sighed as deeply as his broken bones would let him. “I’m so sick of everything hurting, dude.”

Stan planted a kiss on the top of his head, thinning red curls tickling his face. “I know, Ky. You wanna go sit down?”

Kyle looked down dejectedly, and Stan, feeling him giving in, started to carefully direct him to the couch. “Would you maybe want to try taking something?” Even as he said it, he cringed. Kyle had been firmly opposed to medication of any kind since he was coherent enough to leave Wendy’s clinic.

Blessedly, the first few days after getting the shit kicked out of him, he’d been willingly taking painkillers; without them, he hurt so badly he couldn’t think. By the time Kenny had woken up, Kyle had decided he was done.

Stan respected that, but he hated seeing Kyle in such an awful way. So he still offered, even though he knew the answer.

“Agh, I’ll pass.”

Figures.

“Alright, baby.” He kissed him again and went back to their morning hot drinks.

A black coffee, strong, with a tiny splash of cold water so Stan didn’t burn his tongue. Jasmine green tea, with the bag still in, so Kyle could see how much his circumstances had changed.

“And an ice pack,” Stan announced, setting the mugs on the table. He pressed close to Kyle, delicately taking his inflamed arm in his (hopefully not too rough) hands. “God, dude, it’s still swollen.”

“I just heal slow,” Kyle mumbled.

Stan could feel the strained tendons beneath thin skin, and he found himself nearly growling like a protective alpha wolf at the clear fingerprint shaped bruises. How many times had he seen similar marks and been able to do nothing about it? To goddamn many.

Stan Marsh did not get angry easily, but physical evidence of Craig’s violence against Kyle had always made him want to kill.

“Hey. Stan. Hey. Look at me.”

He did. Sympathetic forests invited him in.

“I don’t like to see that look in your eyes,” Kyle murmured. “Come back to me.”

He’d always find his way back into the forest, eventually, find the comfort in dappled sunlight and orange wildflowers blooming in the clearings. Kyle was that forest. Beautiful, strong with a delicate balance, wild. Stan looked down, embarrassed at letting his rage take over, however briefly. “I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m okay.”

Kyle tilted Stan’s chin up so their eyes could meet. “We’re okay. We’re safe now. I’m safe now.”

He always knew when Stan needed that reminder.

Stan would keep him safe, too. He gently eased the ice over the worst of the swelling, keeping Kyle’s arm in his own lap so the smaller man fit naturally closer into his side. His other hand ran absently over Kyle’s hair.

“It’s been falling out more the past few months.”

“Hmm?”

Kyle sighed. “My hair. I know you’ve noticed. I’m practically bald now. I look like Gollum.”

It wasn’t like Stan hadn’t noticed every time he went to play with those long red curls he loved so much, there seemed to be less of them. He just really didn’t want to point it out. It was a huge stressor for the both of them, each fluffy lock that came away far too easily. Kyle wasn’t “practically bald”, though. It was just freaky to find a clump of hair not attached to the head it was supposed to be attached to.

“It’ll stop soon,” Stan promised, because Wendy had told them the poisoning symptoms would eventually ease up. “Just wait, this time next year, the only one of us shedding all over the apartment will be the dog.”

Kyle laughed weakly; it didn’t last long on account of his ribs, and he was hunching over slightly afterwards to catch his breath, but it was still a laugh.

“Still,” Kyle panted, “I was thinking about going ahead and shaving it. Fresh start, and all that.”

“Dude.” That was… big. A big change, a big step. Stan never did great with change, especially when he got attached to something. And he was very fond of Kyle’s hair.

“Think about it, Stan,” Kyle urged. “Hair holds memories, right? That’s like, a thing.” He looked up with shining eyes. “How many horrible memories does mine hold?”

Stan considered what he was saying, really listening. He then slipped a frizzed lock through his fingers and whispered, “but not all of those memories are bad.”

“That’s why I want you to do it.”

“You… want me to cut your hair?”

“You are my good memories, sweetheart,” Kyle insisted. Then he smiled. “Plus, how the hell am I gonna do it? I’m right handed, and even if I wasn’t, I can’t raise my arms up much anyway.”

He had a point, but that was a lot of pressure.

And then Kyle, looking so vulnerable and trusting, pale and wan and traumatized, said in hardly a whisper:

“Please, dude. You’re the only one I trust.”

Stan nodded resolutely. “Alright. Now?”

“Now.”

They decided that the bathroom made the most sense for their purposes, Stan bringing in a stool so that Kyle wouldn’t have to stand during the haircut. The clippers were already on the counter from Stan’s own much needed trim the other day, and he took a deep breath as he picked them up.

“Oh, we should, uh, probably do this without your shirt on. Don’t wanna get hair all in it.”

“Right.”

Both of them braced themselves for the frightening sight that was Kyle’s bare torso. Stan carefully helped him get out of his shirt, and held back the tears that threatened to spill. He’d never get used to it; the deep purples and blues, bright reds, sickly yellows and greys at the edges of each impact point. Clear lines of bruising pressed the stamp of his brittle ribcage onto the skin, and Stan could see which ones were broken without having to think about it. He’d been helping Kyle change since the beginning, but he wasn’t desensitized to that sight. Stan had a feeling Kyle wasn’t, either.

“It’s starting to look better back here,” he lied.

Kyle scoffed. “Bullshit. I can’t turn well enough to see it, but I can feel it.”

Stan kissed the nape of his neck in apology. “I know, baby. You’ll get there. I’ve got you.”

He met Kyle’s gaze in the mirror. “So, how do you wanna go about this?”

Kyle shrugged, then winced. “Ow, fuck. Okay, so I guess just cut the majority of the length with scissors and go from there.”

Nodding, Stan rifled through the drawer until he found what he was looking for, and gathered a handful of curls before he could lose his nerve. “K, Ky, are you-“

“Quit thinking and just cut,” Kyle commanded.

So Stan cut.

A fiery tangle fell to the floor, mesmerizingly, drifting like a red gold ember. Stan grabbed another section and let the distinct sound of scissors cutting through hair fill the otherwise quiet apartment, repeating the process until Kyle’s hair was significantly shorter, if not pretty uneven.

“Scary part’s over,” he said lowly, more to himself than to his partner. “I just have to neaten it up.”

“I trust you,” Kyle reminded him.

The droning *bzzzzzz* of the clippers provided an ambiance weighted with change, with release, with relief. Stan was as focused as he’d ever been, like he was welding or something. Except this felt like so much more than the inherent danger of a blowtorch. And it wasn’t just a haircut. This was a symbol.

Fluffy, drifting clumps fell to the tile, scattering to all corners where they’d be a bitch to sweep up later. Stan kept concentrating, morning the length he’d always gazed longingly at a little, but ultimately seeing this for what it was.

It was slow; almost indulgent. Then, with a final run of his hand over the crop, Stan could breathe.

“Done.”

Kyle opened his eyes to look. “Damn.”

“Did… did I do okay?”

His shirt was immediately caught in a small fist, pulling him down. Kyle kissed him, long and tenderly. “I feel better already.”

“Good enough to come get breakfast with me?” Stan implored. “Nic said Chef has something special he wants you to try.”

God, that smile. Fleeting as it could be sometimes, Kyle lit up the darkest of shadows when he smiled like that. “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

Stan dropped another kiss to the new hairstyle. It would take some getting used to, just like everything these days, but they’d make it. Make new memories, too.

“That’s all you can do.”

——————————————————————————-

ALRIGHT! If anyone made it this far, y’all know the drill, let me know what you thought, and I HOPE IT PLEASED AND SPARKLED!!!

[whumpbug]

Hello, Bug! I hope you are doing okay!

I’m here for the emoji game :)

Could you please combine ⚡️(scared of thunderstorms) and 🤒 (needs to be looked after)?

- anon with whumperflies :)

anon, it always makes me so happy to see you in my inbox! i hope this is what you were looking for!

since my last fic was kind of angsty and ambiguous, i decided to make this one pure fluff with these two boys as their relationship slowly becomes something more than a friendship......

•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“Archie? Archie, come on.. where are you? I know you’re in my apartment,” Simon called out, swinging open his bathroom door to check behind it. 

The window had been cracked open when he came back from work. Unless he was being robbed, which, unfortunately wasn’t too far-fetched, the only other person that would be in his apartment was Archie.

It was.. strange. Archie didn’t usually hide from Simon when he stopped by. When he dropped in, it was usually for a reason, and that reason tended to be rather urgent.

This was utterly unlike Archie. 

Simon padded into his bedroom, scanning for any sign of his friend when a loud crack of thunder sounded through the room.

He didn’t think anything of it, until he heard a high-pitched whimper coming from inside his closet.

“Archie?”

Simon tilted his head and paused. He made his way to the door and carefully slid it open and-- oh.

Archie was curled into a tight ball, pressed as far into the corner as he could possibly be. His hands were clasped around his ears and he was visibly trembling. 

Simon sighed.

“Hey, Archie? Can you look at me?” He ducked into the closet and knelt in front of him.

Archie lifted his head and stared at him, wide-eyed, and slowly brought his hands down from his ears.

“Simon,” He whispered breathlessly. He immediately burst into tears, throwing himself into Simon’s chest and clinging tightly to him. “It’s so.. so loud..”

Without missing a beat, he wrapped his arms around Archie and pulled him close. He frowned.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.. I’m right here..” He murmured, rubbing gentle circles into Archie’s back. Archie let out a pathetic whimper.

Simon never knew that Archie was afraid of the thunder but.. well, it checked out. He did have enhanced hearing after all. But Simon had seen Archie patrol through all kinds of weather, storms included, and he never seemed too bothered by it. Archie was too good at hiding his discomfort sometimes. It was.. concerning.

He supposed today it had been all too much.

Suddenly, more thunder cracked in the sky and Archie yelped as if he had been struck. His hands flew up to his ears and he buried his face into the crook of Simon’s shoulder. Simon cupped a protective hand around the back of Archie's head and shushed soothingly.

“Shhh.. it's okay.. I’m right here..” He hummed. 

Archie sobbed.

Simon didn’t have super hearing, but he was no stranger to overstimulation. He knew all too well the tear-inducing overwhelm that Archie was going through, and, to be fair, it was probably worse than Simon was imagining.

“I know.. I’m sorry..” He whispered, bringing his own hands to gently cover Archie’s over his ears. He tilted his head up.

Archie sniffled. “Simon.. I can’t.. It’s.. it’s so loud.. It hurts..”

Simon thumbed a tear away from Archie’s cheek and leaned over to press a kiss to the crown of his head. Archie immediately melted under the touch, letting his eyes flutter close and his head fall into Simon’s shoulder once again.

More than anything, Simon knew Archie needed someone there. Someone to remind him that he was safe, and that it would pass. 

Considering all the other things Simon did for Archie, that wouldn’t be a problem at all.

“I know I know.. how about we get you a warm bath and then we can go from there?” Simon suggested, steadily patting Archie’s trembling back.

Archie feebly nodded, and soon the two were standing and making their way to the small bathroom.

The thunder had begun to die down a bit, but Archie was still shaken. Simon saw the tension in his body, the way his shoulders were hunched and his eyebrows were pinched together. 

He seemed exhausted. He seemed fully at his limit.

Once Simon started the tap for the bath and tested the water, he rubbed a gentle hand over Archie’s shoulder blades and shut the door behind him.

In the meantime, Simon shut all the windows and doors to help muffle the sound of the rain falling. He idly began making a pot of hot chocolate while waiting for Archie to finish up and get dressed. 

It was interesting. Simon had taken care of Archie in far more perilous situations with far more dire consequences, yet it seemed the mundane problems incapacitated Archie the most.

In other words, Archie could walk off a bullet wound, but loud sounds had him down for the count.

Simon supposed he understood. Still, he made Archie a promise when they first met. That he would do anything in his power to keep Vigil up and running. Sometimes that meant making hot cocoa and putting Empire Strikes Back on the TV at half volume.

Archie emerged about thirty minutes later with his hair damp and some of Simon’s clothes thrown on. They were about a size too big, and the plaid pajama pants were bunched at his ankles. Simon found it terribly endearing.

“The bath help at all?” Simon asked, placing the steaming mugs on the coffee table and settling into the couch.

Archie only offered a nod before beelining his way to the couch. He practically leapt into Simon’s lap, immediately wrapping every limb around him.

He let out a small, muffled whine and pressed his face into the crook of Simon’s shoulder. 

Simon huffed a small laugh and reciprocated the hug, tucking Archie’s head beneath his chin and tracing wide circled across his back. Archie was already melting under the touch; the tension in his shoulders drained away like being wrung out of a sponge.

The solution, it seemed, was cuddles. Simon couldn’t say he was surprised, but he definitely didn’t think Archie would feel comfortable being so affectionate. Still, he had no complaints. None at all.

Simon continued rhythmically rubbing his back and shoulders, feeling a little more stiffness dissipate with every pass.

Soon enough, Archie's breathing began to even out and his head slipped a little bit into Simon’s chest. Simon gathered him up in his arms once again and pulled the blanket over them both. He smiled softly and pressed a kiss to Archie’s temple.

It was then that he knew. Archie didn’t need to be bleeding or broken for Simon to want to take care of him. He was content just being by his side, through thick and thin.

The movie played on, and the two slept.

•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[adrift-in-thyme]

Sleepiness

Read on Ao3

- Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

- Summary: After Al admits how hard the sleepless nights are, Ed takes it upon himself to keep him company. But that proves a rather difficult task

- No warnings apply

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

It’s quiet in the room. Peaceful. Treacherous.

Ed glares at the page before him, purposefully ignoring the way that the words blur and smear. Usually, he would welcome the unusual calm. But not tonight. Tonight he can’t fall prey to the way it soothes his soul, or blankets him like a plush comforter, or makes the world a bit softer, a bit more distant in a pleasant sort of way…

A yawn pushes past his stubbornly closed lips, bringing tears to his eyes.

“It’s late, brother,” Al says, softly, as though reluctant to break the stillness. “Shouldn’t you get to sleep?”

Another yawn follows the first, this one so wide Ed has no choice but to let it out. His eyes slip closed and beg to remain that way. He wrenches them back open.

“I’m not going to sleep tonight.”

Al cocks his head. “But why not? You need your rest.”

Ed shrugs and the movement seems as difficult as moving a mountain. Stupid body, betraying him in such a way.

“You said the nights are the worst, right?” He gives his brother a small grin. “Well, I don’t want you to have to spend them alone anymore. I’m gonna stay up with you.”

Al blinks, then sets down his book. He holds up his hands as if in surrender. “You don’t have to! Even if you sleep I won’t be alone. Not really.”

That’s a lie if he ever saw one. But Ed decides not to call him on it…directly, at least.

“Yeah, well, company is always better when they’re conscious. Besides, I’ve pulled all-nighters before, haven’t I? I’ll be fine.”

He looks at Al. Al looks back. Doubt radiates off of him in waves.

Instantly, a glare sours Ed’s expression. He shoves a finger in Al’s direction. “Hey! You’re doubting me aren’t you? Aren’t you?”

“No, no! It’s just…” Al shifts, nervously. “You barely ever make it through all-nighters. You sleep…a lot.”

“I do not!” Ed pushes himself up off the couch, hands on his hips. “Look, I’m gonna stay up with you all night, okay? Whether you like it or not.”

“Okay,” Al acquiesces. “But don’t worry if you fall asleep.”

Ed snatches up a blanket and flops down beside his brother, reclining on his armor. “I won’t.”

That promise proves rather difficult to keep. The hands of the clock crawl across the face, moving from eleven to eleven-thirty to twelve. And with every passing moment Ed’s eyelids grow heavier.

His book has long since stopped making sense. Logical thought seems impossible anymore. Thoughts bounce dazedly around his brain – of warm beds and soft sheets and nights where he can rest undisturbed. 

His eyes droop and slide shut. 

“Brother?” 

He jolts out of the near-sleep he had fallen into, bringing a hand roughly across his eyes.

“I’m awake!”

Al moves to put an arm around him and Ed slumps into the half-hug, ignoring the way the armor pokes. 

“I am grateful for you trying,” Al says, softly. The words drift by like aimless fish and Ed has to snatch at them to try and make them make sense. “You need your sleep, though, to keep up your strength. Just think! When we get our bodies back I can sleep as much as I want! But until then, why don’t you sleep for both of us?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Ed mumbles, grouchily. But he has to admit the idea does sound rather nice. 

Sleeping for two people means getting even more sleep, right?

His eyes slip closed once more, body growing immeasurably heavy. If he tried to get up right now, he doesn’t think that he could manage it. 

“I’m still gonna try,” he says, words slurred by incoming slumber and the way his cheek is pressed against a rather sharp plate of armor. “Don’t want you to be…”

“I’m not alone,” Al says, as he trails off, grasping for the thoughts that dart mischievously out of his reach. “You’re here with me, aren’t you?”

A slightly loopy smile lifts Ed’s lips. “Guess so.”

“So, go to sleep.”

Ed shifts, rearranging so that he is a bit more comfortable. It’s a little difficult given his armored pillow. But he’ll make do. He is nearly gone, anyway, book fallen from his hand, eyes closed, body limp. He is falling headlong into the embrace of sleep. This is a battle he can’t win.

Damn it.

He had really wanted to.

Someday, though, someday soon he will win the war. Al will have his body back and he will be able to sleep all he wants. Ed will make sure of that.

(And he’ll be able to eat too, and feel the wind and rain and sun, and the coarse prickles of grass beneath his feet, the unyielding firmness of pressed earth. And when Ed hugs him or curls up beside him, instead of the hollow ring of empty armor…he will be able to hear a heartbeat.)

He sighs. Yes, someday soon.

For now, however, for now…he guesses he is forced to surrender. Just this once.

“Fine. But don’t go ordering your big brother around,” he gripes. But there is no heat in it. Only the thickness of near-sleep.

Al only chuckles and holds him a bit closer. “Good night, brother.”

“...and thank you.”

[laurelwinchester]

lol just went in the rookie tag and everyone is going feral and saying they hate the show and this is the worst season and they hope it gets cancelled because tim and lucy broke up and meanwhile i'm over here just EATING THIS SHIT UP. there's literally no way they're not an endgame couple so when that break up happened i was like "GOOD, it was getting a little too chummy around here."

[whumperofworlds]

Me: This fic/story is so sweet and fluffy!

Also me: Add torture and whump.

[snaillamp]

Beach Day

“Beach, yay, beach, yay, beach!” That was the seventh time Jonas had sung his little song. Enjar chuckled, glancing at Anna, who looked kind of annoyed. “Beach, yay, beach, yay, beach!” The little boy said again. “Jonas, honey, why don’t we come up with a different song now, huh?” Jonas looked offended, “But mammaaaa, I like this one! We’re going to the beach!” He wiggled in his seat, excitedly as they neared the final stretch of the road. “Hey, Jonas. Look at this.” Enjar glanced around, grinning, before speeding over the bumpy dirt road. Jonas squealed in delight as the bumps made the entire car vibrate violently. Anna gripped the door beside her, glaring at her brother who cackled evilly.

The car pulled up to a clearing, everyone getting out. Anna grabbed her stuff from the back of the Land Cruiser and joining Enjar, who was wrangling the child. Jonas was screaming with excitement, eyes lit up with joy and life. Enjar felt warm inside looking at the boy as he put him down, watching him run off like a windup toy the second his feet touched the ground. “Mama, beach, beach, beach! We’re at the beach!” Anna smiled as she shouldered her bag, Jonas grabbing her hand and dragging her in the direction of the stairs leading to the sand. “Come ooooon.” He groaned, grunting as he pulled on her arm. Enjar laughed, sliding his surfboard off the top of the car. “Come on, you’re both so slooooooow” Jonas whined. Enjar laughed again, walking towards the stairs. “Okay, Jonas. Let’s go.”

They walked down the many steps to the beach, Jonas speeding off into the sand and screaming with happiness, his bright red swimsuit soon a spec as they looked at him run. Anna sighed, a mix of tired, exasperated and loving. “I love him, but God… I need a break.” Enjar grinned. “Let me take care of him, you go… sunbathe or whatever.” Anna playfully punched his arm, before rolling her eyes and walking off, sunbathing actually sounded like a good idea.

Enjar walked over to Jonas, who was squatting down on the sand, looking at something, enthralled. “What did you find?” Enjar asked, looking down at the spot. “Crab.” Jonas pointed at the small crab, scuttling away from them. “Wow, look at him go!” Enjar remarked as the crab disappeared into the waves. Jonas giggled, watching the crab disappear into the waves. “Wanna go swim?” Enjar looked down at Jonas, who suddenly grew concerned, shaking his head. “What’s wrong? You’ve wanted to go swimming all morning.” Glancing out at the rippling waves, and humming. “Ahhh, I see. Scarier up close huh?” Jonas nodded again, taking Enjar’s hand in his own. Enjar zipped up his wetsuit properly, placing his board on the sand and tying back his hair, before grabbing the boy’s hand again. “How about we just take a little step in?”

Jonas stood glued to the ground, eyeing the waves nervously. “Just one step, so the waves touch your feet.” Enjar encouraged, watching Jonas think it over seriously. After a few seconds of thinking, Enjar and Jonas took a step together, into the water. Slowly, step by step, they ended up knee deep in the waves, at least by Jonas’ perspective, and he had had enough. “No more!” He cried out, looking at the waves curl over and crash towards him. He grabbed onto Enjar’s waist, hugging it close. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Enjar picked up Jonas, carrying him into waist deep water and then squatting so that their shoulders were just peeking out of the water. He felt Jonas’ unsure feet rest on his thighs, toes crunched up as he tensed up in fear.

Jonas looked nervous, clinging to Enjar’s chest. “It’s too deep!” He cried out, looking at Enjar with wide, scared eyes, his breaths quickening in panic. “Hey, hey…” Enjar murmured, soothing the boy. “I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna happen.” He held Jonas close, letting him float in the water, feeling the rapidly beating heart inside his nephew begin to slow as he rubbed the boy’s back. “See? You’re fine.” He smiled at Jonas who giggled, kicking his feet a little. Slowly inching further out, half of Enjar’s chest was now submerged, and they began to jump in the slowly rising waves.

~~

Jonas soon forgot his fear, squealing and kicking as they jumped the waves together. As a slightly bigger one began to rear up from the water, Enjar was forced to turn away and take the brunt of the hit, shielding his nephew. He grunted as the water hit him hard in the back, making Jonas laugh. They continued to play, swimming closer and closer to shore, until Jonas wiggled out from Enjar’s grip, swimming his own way back to land. The lighthouse keeper watched him carefully, making sure he got back to the sand safely, before taking the opportunity to grab his board.

Jonas watched him curiously as Enjar began to paddle out. The waves weren’t great today, but decent enough for him to maybe catch a couple. Once he was out far enough, he waved at Jonas, who waved back, waiting with anticipation. Enjar watched the waves, looking for his opening, finding it and taking off, managing to ride the wave for a good amount of time, before he fell off into the sea. He could hear Jonas laughing from the shore as he paddled back in, walking over to the boy and grinning. “That was so cool!” Jonas looked up at Enjar in awe. “Wanna try?” Enjar asked, looking at him with a glint in his eye.

Jonas jumped up and down, nodding. Enjar glanced over at Anna, asleep in the sand, the books she had been reading collapsed against her chest. Enjar nodded, putting the board in the water and setting Jonas on it, walking him out into waist deep water. Jonas gripped each side of the board, “It’s wobbly.” He pointed out. Enjar nodded, “I know. Just relax your body and it won’t wobble as much. I’ve got you.”

He took Jonas through the motions, teaching him all the basics of surfing, before finally letting him stand on the board. He gave it a little push, letting it drift in the gentle waves. Jonas, as Enjar expected, drifted for a little bit and then fell off. He stuck his head out of the water, coughing a little and rubbing his stinging eyes. “You okay?” Enjar asked, hoisting him onto the board to sit, his voice tinged with concern. Jonas nodded, wiping his eyes and smiling. “That’s so fun! Can we do it again?” Enjar nodded, repeating the process a few times, until Jonas slid off the board and into the water. “I’m tired, Uncle Enjar. Can we go back to mummy?” Enjar nodded, pulling the board closer to his body and made his way through the water, back to shore.

Jonas had already woken Anna up, excitedly jumping up and down and telling her all about his surfing lesson. Anna smiled tiredly, “That’s amazing, sweetheart. You’ll have to show me some more later.”

Jonas grinned, the same way Enjar did, and it struck her how similar he was to his uncle, that same wicked grin, same mischievous gleam in his eye. Anna pulled her son into a hug, kissing his forehead. “I love you Jonas.” Jonas nodded, kissing her forehead back. “I love you too Mummy.” He glanced at Enjar, who had just sat down next to Anna. The small boy walked over to his uncle, leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead too. “And I love you, Uncle Enjar.” Enjar smiled softly, pulling his nephew close and ruffling his hair and kissing his cheek. “I love you too, Jonas.”

Anna had pulled out some plastic containers, full of fruits, cheese, sandwiches and cake. Anna served her son some of the food, tucking the cake container away from sight whilst he ate the other food. Enjar picked at the fruit too, until Anna sighed, handing him a lid as a plate. “Use that.” She rolled her eyes, looking at Enjar grin. It really was like Jonas’, however his was a slightly wonkier smile, the scar on the left side of his face preventing him from pulling his lips in that direction as much. She liked it though, even though the scar didn’t affect his smile too much, the slightly lopsided smile was endearing, and it was still the same wicked smile he’d had his whole life, now just with a little extra flare.

It was funny, she couldn’t even remember what his smile was like before, his face, his arms… It was like he’d always been this way. But she wouldn’t change her brother for the world. Watching him play with her son, smiling and laughing, happy and alive was all she could ask for. The scars had changed him… but deep down, she had grown to love them. They made Enjar who he was, in a way. Not that she had wanted him to be so badly injured in the first place, but a tiny part of her was glad they had forced him to retire, to change careers and live in the lighthouse. He was safe now, alive, able to watch his nephew grow up… The job that gave him his scars, it had nearly killed him, and Anna had a feeling that if he’d continued, it would’ve. But he didn’t, and now Jonas could have a positive role model, a father figure in his life. Someone to step up to the plate, where her ex-husband, Jonas’ father had failed, and Enjar had done just that. He and Jonas had a special connection, and she knew Jonas thought the world of Enjar, and that Enjar would give Jonas the world if he could.

Returning her thoughts the food, Anna watched as Jonas and Enjar played with the food, having a sword fight with carrot sticks. Her son had nearly finished his food. “Jonas, when you’re finished, I have cake.” Jonas stopped, looking at his mother with glee. He shoved the rest of his food in his mouth and crunched fast, swallowing and reaching out his hand. “I’m finished!” Enjar chuckled, finishing his food too, both of them looking expectantly at Anna. She laughed, taking a slow bite of an apple slice. “You two can wait until I finish then.” She began to eat her food in slow motion, Jonas groaning in annoyance. “Mamaaaaaaa.” He whined. “You said I could have cake when I finished my food. Not your food!” He crossed his arms indignantly, looking very cross for a 5 year old.

Anna rolled her eyes, “Okay… I guess I can give you yours.” She handed her boys a slice of cake each, and watched them as they bit into them with glee. Enjar’s eyes widened. “Damn, this is good! You made this?” Anna nodded, watching as her brother wolfed down the food. “Yeah, chocolate pumpkin cake. It’s become a favourite of Jonas’. It’s the only way I can get him to eat pumpkin.” Jonas nodded with glee, already licking the chocolate icing off his tiny fingers, smears of it stretched over his chin. Anna reached into her bag, pulling out a cloth and wiping his hand down, before grabbing her own slice of cake and eating it. “Uncle Enjar, can we go and surf again? I wanna show Mama!” Enjar nodded, easing out of the sand and dusting off his legs. “Sure, let’s go!” Grabbing his board, he raced his nephew to the water, Anna watching carefully as her brother gently guided her son to stand on the massive board. It made him look so small, as he balanced with his arms stretched wide.

Enjar gave it a little push, letting the waves carry it as Jonas balanced carefully. Then, it tilted, and Jonas crashed into the water. Anna cheered from the shore as Jonas’ head popped up to the surface and he waved, coming ashore and running up to her, panting from the effort. His big blue eyes were gleaming as he swelled with pride. “Did you see me surf, mummy?” Anna nodded, “You did so well, my darling.” Seeing movement over Jonas’ shoulder she gasped. “Look!” Pointing out into the sea, they watched as Enjar readied himself to ride a wave.

~~

Watching Jonas go back to shore, Enjar decided to see if he could catch some waves a little further out. He began to paddle, watching the water as he got further and further out. Finally, he turned, gaining momentum as he felt the rush of adrenaline flow through him, the wave catching his board and propelling him over the water. He felt the thrill of the ride as he moved, eventually turning the board toward shore and drifting back. When he was almost there, he leaned over, collapsing into the water with a splash, his feet digging into the sand and pushing him forwards. When he got to shore, his nephew was gazing at him with a new found awe. “That was so cool!” The young boy exclaimed, “You were going so fast and then you changed and then you came back to us and-and… wow…” He breathed.

“Pretty cool huh?” Enjar panted, smiling down at Jonas. “Yeah….” Jonas looked Enjar up and down, taking in his body in a new light. It amazed the young boy that his uncle could do that, moving his body to control the board like that… He wanted to be just like him when he grew up. “I wanna swim more.” He looked at his mother, hoping she would come with them. “Do you want me to come too?” She asked, shutting her book and standing up. “Why not?”

All three of them approached the ocean, the waves now a little bigger. Jonas waded in first, followed by his uncle and finally Anna. She shrieked, tensing up, causing Enjar to whirl around, slightly worried. “It’s so cold!” She squealed, Enjar wading over and sliding an arm over her shoulders. “Come on, it’s not that bad.” Jonas was watching them curiously, but Anna braced as she felt Enjar lean against her more. “No, no! Enjar stop!” She laughed, shoving him off her. She shivered in the cold water, wading a little further in. Jonas splashed some water in her direction, and she smirked. “Oh, are we playing that game are we?” She splashed some water at him, laughing as they closed their eyes, splashing and squealing. Jonas opened his eyes again, for just a second, watching as Enjar snuck up behind Anna, crash tackling her from behind and pulling her into the water. Anna screamed, surfacing quickly and looking for her brother, who’s head popped up a few feet away from her. He’d already put distance between himself and his sister’s rage.

“You little-” She yelled, splashing Enjar who splashed her back. Soon all three of them were attacking each other, splashing water. Enjar began dragging Jonas around. He lifted the child in the air and tossed him into the water, again and again, Jonas squealing as he hit the water, until Enjar was too tired to do it any more.

~~

As they drove back to Enjar’s cabin, Anna glanced behind them at the back seat, Jonas was asleep, tired from his long day. They all were, it had been so fun, but so tiring. When they pulled up, Enjar mumbled that he’d grab Jonas, gently picking up his nephew and cradling in his arms. He was so perfect, sleeping and peaceful in his arms. Enjar smiled down at him, at that moment, he knew he’d do anything for this kid. He would protect him with his entire being, this small person was so special to him, so precious…

Carrying him inside, he walked to the sofa nearby, cradling the small, sleeping boy on his lap and holding him close. He stretched his legs along the length of the sofa, his back leaning against the armrest as he slid down, now using it as a pillow. Before he even noticed it, Enjar’s head was nodding, his heavy eyelids sliding shut…

Anna walked through the door, carrying the last of the stuff. “Where do you want this bag En?” She asked, waiting for a reply. Her brother didn’t say anything, so she looked up, frowning. “En?” A soft smile crept across her lips when she saw her brother slumped across the sofa, Jonas curled up against him. He’d really saved her skin today, keeping Jonas occupied while she had had a much needed rest, but she supposed that he was probably just as tired now. He didn’t really have a lot of energy for young kids. Jonas’ head was resting on Enjar’s chest, which gently rose and fell, one of Enjar’s scarred arms wrapped gently around his nephew’s body, holding him close. It was cute, watching them together, and it never ceased to surprise Anna how alike they looked. But right now, her boys were sleeping peacefully, and that’s all she could ask for. Going to Enjar’s room, she found a light blanket, laying it over them. Enjar grunted in his sleep, his lip quirking with a slight smile.

In that moment, everything was perfect.

~masterlist~

[sayakxmi]

Imagining Dave and Jade furniture shopping for their new house, and Dave wanders off a little as Jade still looks at these pretty LED lights, contemplating purchase, only for him to return quickly, excited in a somewhat mischievous way, and then he proceeds to drag her to show her the single ugliest rug she had seen in her entire life. "It's horrendous," she tells him. "We're putting it in the living room."

They buy the LEDs, too.

[waywardwizzard]

Mal sighed and counted to ten. Then counted back down to one. Then, again to ten but in Chinese this time.

It didn't help at all and it only managed to make his headache worse.

"What, in the gorram hell happened?" he growled.

Wash and Simon flinched. Some part of Mal felt good at seeing it, but the most of him just felt irritated. Ben dans, the whole lot of them. Sometimes, he wondered how the two of them managed to stay alive.

"We can explain," Wash said, hissing when the doctor cleaned one of the many cuts littering his face, arms and chest. Mirroring cuts littered Simon's upper body.

Folding his arms, the captain leaned back against the infirmary wall and glared at the two idiots.

"Good. Now start explaining. Before I decide to throw the two of you out of the airlock."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Author's note -

I love writing Wash and Simon friendship fics. And, for once, the captain has the braincell (only because Zoë isn't there).

(Also, I'm very proud of this fic. I don't know why but I am.)

@juneofdoom

[librathefangirl]

Today on Writing with Libra: Is This Fluff?

TW: mention of suicidal ideation.

Me: Look! I'm writing fluff!

Also me: Wait, we can do that??

Me: Mm-hmm *proudly displays fic 1 and fic 2*

Also me: *looks at fic 1* This one literally has a suicidal ideation trigger warning! He almost dies. He basically gives up? And that's just the first 500 words!

Me: Oh... right. But what about this one?

Also me: *looks at fic 2* If you ignore the last paragraph maybe...

Me: Yeah, it got a little *gestures vaguely*. Is bittersweet fluff a thing?

Also me: Well, if it is, we nailed it.

[awkward-halfhug]

goin through Steve fics and all of them r like Steve Harrington is ABUSED, Steve Harrington is TORTURED, Steve Harrington is EXPERIMENTED ON, Steve Harrington has an INCURABLE DISEASE, Steve Harrington has NO FRIENDS, NO FAMILY, NO GIRLFRIEND, HE'S THIS CLOSE TO ENDING IT

Y'all, this man can't take a breath. Can someone please write him happy because I'm going to cry

[the-bi-space-ace]

*SCREAMS* I JUST WANT TO WRITE SOMETHING SOFT BUT THE ONLY THING THAT COMES OUT IS ANGST

[samtheacesheep]

Work Description: 

Melissa gets badly hurt. Milo looks after her.