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moonstruckme · 3 months

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Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt.

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen.

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife.

“Overruled,” he decrees.

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.”

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out.

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.”

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?”

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast.

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up.

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips.

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to.

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off.

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck.

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him.

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?”

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.”

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.”

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both.

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.”

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.”

You sigh. “I figured.”

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?”

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler.

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck.

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.”

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows.

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.”

“Wasn’t ready for what?”

“To be sick.”

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?”

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb.

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums.

“What is it?” James asks.

“Thirty nine point five.”

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate.

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?”

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius had the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.”

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice.

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.”

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.”

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb.

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

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kendrene · 1 year

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Ava rubs sweat out of her eyes with the heel of a hand.

The weather forecast had projected a lovely 25 degrees celsius for the day, but they’ve been walking for what feels like hours, and the breeze from the lake doesn’t reach this deep in the woods. It’s stifling among the trees, and still, and hot as Adriel’s armpit. Ew.

“Where is it that we’re going again?”

“You’ll see.”

Beatrice lobs the reply over one shoulder without breaking step. She’s still somehow keeping to the same ground-eating pace she’d set for them earlier that morning, unfazed by the heat and the gradient of the trail, looking like she could walk on till dusk. Ava wouldn’t put it past her.

“Please…” Her calves are burning, and the muscles in her thighs scream with every step. “Can we not… stop… for a minute?” Forever?

“It’s close by.” Beatrice turns to face her, but continues walking, so that now she’s walking backwards up a forested hill while Ava feels like dying. “I promise.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.” Ava pants, scrambling after her. “You said it wasn’t far at the trailhead, and we’ve been climbing for years.”

“Actually we’ve been on the trail for—” Beatrice tilts her head back, peering at a gap between secular firs and the smear of clear sky there. “— two and a half hours.”

“How do you—” A sudden wind picks up, shaking through the trees, and Ava is blinded by a spear of sunlight. The sun’s position. Of fucking course.

“Do you guys have nun scouts in the OCS or something? Where did you learn that sort of thing?”

“No. And the Girl Scouts. I was… My parents made me join as soon as it was feasible. The names change, but Girl Scouts operate everywhere. They thought it would be an easy way for me to make friends.”

“Made you?” Ava frowns. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“It was one of the few things that I liked growing up, actually. It gave me a sense of structure. Direction. Of… family, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A strange sort of silence falls between them, awkward and quiet and sad. Ava kicks at a loose rock, sends it tumbling into some bushes, and thinks really hard on the best way to break it.

“Hey, Bea?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we there yet?”

Beatrice groans.

*** Their destination, once they get to it, is very disappointing.

“This is it?” Ava meanders to the center of the clearing, gestures. “I expected, I don’t know, something.”

“Like what?”

Bea sets her rucksack on the ground, and starts pulling out equipment.

“I don’t know! An alpine peak? A waterfall? Treasure?”

“Well, we got knives, protein bars and a water bottle. Sorry but—” Bea upends the rucksack, now empty, and shakes it. “No treasure.”

“We got— Wait, are we going to train?”

“Yes.”

“You made me walk two hours out of town to train.”

“Also yes.”

“But we could have done that by the lake!”

Beatrice shakes her head.

“No. Not for what I have in mind today. Having you run on water is a risk we had to take, but this? We can’t chance some tourist walking by.”

Okay. Bea’s making it sound cool. Ava admits she’s intrigued.

“Alrighty then. What are you doing?”

“Well, we know you can phase through stationary objects. I want you to try and see whether you can focus enough to replicate that through a moving one.” Something catches the light in Bea’s hands and when Ava looks down she’s holding a knife.

“Uhm. You want me to try and phase through one of your knives? Edgy.”

“Ah ah.” A flick of the wrist and the knife vanishes behind Bea’s back. Ava claps. She can’t help herself; it always looks like magic. “No, we’re not using live weapons.”

“Then what?” There’s rocks on the ground Beatrice could throw, although between being hit by a rock and stabbed by a knife, Ava’s not sure what she’d pick.

“We’re gonna use these.” Bea holds up what look like several colored sticks, roughly shaped like actual throwing knives. “They’re rubber, so even if they hit you it shouldn’t hurt too much.”

Shouldn’t? Too much?

“Gee, thanks.”

“Come on,” Bea moves to face her. “If you make it by the end of the day, we can have ice cream for dinner.”

“I’ll eat my way through your tips.” Ava grins, the ache of the hike forgotten at the prospect. “I’m so gonna get it first try. Just watch.”

*** She doesn’t get it first try.

Or second.

Or tenth.

“I think we should call it a day.” Beatrice says, after the piece of neon pink rubber has bounced off of Ava’s chest again. The sun is well past its zenith, and the sky has acquired the burnished hue of afternoon. “We can try again later this week.” Ava pouts. “I’ll still get you ice cream, if you’d like.”

“Really?” Ava grabs the water bottle Bea is holding out to her, and drains about half of it in one gulp. “Even if this was a complete failure?”

“It wasn’t. You did dodge a few of the knives.”

True.

They gather up their stuff quickly, shadows stretching blue across the grass, and Ava is scanning the ground for any stray projectiles when Bea calls out.

“Ava!” She yells from the edge of the clearing. “Look sharp.”

Something suspiciously bright flies towards her, hits her squarely on the nose. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Oh God, oh no.” Bea is by her side in a flash, an arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I thought if I tried catching you by surprise maybe the Halo…”

“My nose.” Ava has both hands cupped around it, and it’s throbbing something fierce. “I think it’s broken.”

“Let me see.” Bea grabs her chin, ever so gently, and with her free hand pulls hers away. “Yeah,” she admits, brows knitting in worry. “It looks broken.” As though to confirm the prognosis, the Halo burns in Ava’s back, sharp and blistering. In the middle of her face, a bone reknits itself, cartilage snaps into place. Ava winces.

“I’m so so sorry.” Bea has let her go, and is pawing through the rucksack for something to clean her face with. “We’re never doing this again. I should have known, it was such a stupid idea. I don’t know why I thought—” She stammers on, so fast that the words pile on top of one another, and Ava has a hard time keeping up.

Ava’s hand bears down on both of Beatrice’s, stilling them. She grins at her through the blood.

“It’s okay.” She scrunches her nose, experimentally. “I’m okay, see? No harm done.”

“But—”

“No buts. It wasn’t a stupid idea. We will take another stab at it, just like you said.”

“Ava.” Beatrice says her name pointedly, voice stuck between fond and exasperated.

“What? That was a really good pun. My sense of humor—”

“—is a cut below the rest.”

“Ouch.” Ava presses a hand to her heart, faux dramatic. “That hurts more than the broken nose.”

“Doubt it.”

Neither of them can stop smiling on the way home.

#warrior nun #avatrice #dren writes #a lil drama with fake knives

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diazsdimples · 1 month

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❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It’s snowing!!

A snowstorm in my inbox!! 21 frosty sentences just for you (we're pretending that last section in the speech marks is one sentence okay)!

Frostpunk AU ❄️

Hope surges through Buck at the news – it’s the closest thing either of the Diazes have made in terms of visible progress and he clings onto it like a lifeline, Bobby’s words from a few days prior echoing in his head. “Do you think he’d be able to hear me, you know, if I talked to him?” Buck asks Hen later that morning. She’s doing her routine cares on Edmundo, checking his IV sites to make sure they haven’t tissued and taking his vital signs, and Buck hovers around her, his fingers itching to thread through Edmundo’s steadily lengthening hair. “Who, Christopher?” Hen asks as she turns Edmundo’s hand over in hers, checking the length of his nails and the colour of the IV site. “I mean, both of them really, but yeah, Christopher,” Buck replies, shifting restlessly from one foot to another. “I was thinking of reading to him, so he knows he’s not alone.” Hen give Buck an almost sad smile, ones that he’s become more and more familiar with as the days have passed. He’s seen it on Hen’s face as she works and watches him keep constant vigil at the Diazes bedsides, and Bobby and Athena’s whenever they come and check on him. Maddie doesn’t try hide her sadness behind a smile, he sees it whenever he walks into a room these days. Be careful with yourself, Evan. Don’t get too attached. Yeah, well, Buck’s never been very good at listening to instructions, even if it’s for his own good. “I’m sure he’d really appreciate it if you read to him, Buck, that’s a good idea,” Hen replies, and Buck’s already pushing through the tent flaps and pelting down the icy streets before he knows what he’s doing. It’s -30 degrees Celsius today, fairly mild for this time of year. The sun hasn’t quite crested over the big ridge that shelters the city, leaving the streets and buildings sparkling with icy dew from the frozen night. The slats of streets are still slippery with black ice, and more than once Buck has to grab onto a streetlamp to stop him from slithering sideways as he takes a turn too quickly. He reaches his tent in record time, sporting a new scrape on his knee from a misjudged corner, and shrugs off his coat, barely sparing a moment to brush the snow off his pants before continuing on his mission.

[insert this snippet about the Princess Bride here]

With the book clutched tight to his chest, Buck makes his way back to the med tent, this time with much more care. There’s a new chair waiting for him between Edmundo and Christopher’s beds, this one lined with furs and complete with a small section that pulls out, should he want to prop his feet up. There’s no indication of who made the switch, but Buck sees what looks suspiciously like the back of Bobby’s head over in the supply section of the tent, and Buck’s throat constructs a little. He settles himself down on the chair, kicking his boots off, and leans over Christopher’s side, speaking quietly to the kid. “Hey bud, it’s Buck. I- I don’t know if you can hear me but I’ve bought a book with me today, and thought I’d read it to you. My sister used to read it to me when I was little, and it always made me feel safe so I figured I’d do the same for you.”

Tagging friends who have shown interest in this work

@neverevan @cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @jesuiscenseedormir @theotherbuckley

Make me write things!!

#james writes #frostpunk au #thank you for the flurry daffi!!#the healing has begun babes #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 buddie #buddie wip #ngl I've missed writing for buddie #this was like coming home at the end of a long day #*dreamy sigh*

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duskpeak · 2 years

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What it’s like to hold/hug them

(note: I am American so I use Fahrenheit, I’d put the Celsius number too but I’m just slapping this down as I think of it and I don’t feel like googling it)

Slight NSFW mention for Zoro

Ace

Oh boy, look, Ace ran hot even before his devil fruit he’s that one friend that is never cold when everyone else is and sweats in 65 degree weather. Wears shorts in winter, unless hell is literally freezing over you will not catch this man in pants (in an au you’d only find him in pants in summer because all three of them, for whatever ungodly reason like the house/apartment as cold as the air conditioner will make it). I was gonna keep going but this is about hugging them so anyway my point is this man is fucking hot all the time. He is your free personal heater in the cold months or on winter islands. Your pass to never need a blanket again. But he is also the bane of your existence, I’ve seen some fics where he can cool himself down but I disagree, at most he can only get himself to MAYBE a little below his pre devil fruit standard temp. The only good thing is no matter what he doesn’t sweat from heat, training? sure, goofing off on deck? why not, but no matter how hot it is outside you will never get a sweaty hug because it was hot outside. Before he got his devil fruit you might as well just dunk him in water because oh my god he sweats so much, don’t touch his hair, just don’t please. 8/10 before his df 10/10 after he gets his df

Luffy

Look guys I know y’all want to think all the ASL brothers are just naturally warm but listen you’re not exactly wrong but your not right either. Luffy, being rubber absorbs and releases heat quite quickly so his temperature heavily depends on the temperature of the room or area you guys are at. Generally he’s nice and warm though, he pretty much spends the whole day lounging in the sun so yeah I wouldn’t suggest touching him if it’s anything above 85 degrees just give him a few minutes to cool down. If it’s not direct skin contact I’d say go ahead, though if it is a hot day it might be a little too warm. On the other hand we’ve seen Luffy not realize he’s cold because he’s so excited but he actually gets colder way faster than everyone else. Winter islands are the worst for him, he doesn’t think of it that way but once he loses whatever heat he had his temperature just keeps dropping so it’s imperative you make sure he’s wearing something warm or at least are there to warm him up. Speaking of which warming him up is your perfect excuse to hold him not that you need one but sometimes it’s necessary in order to save your skin from the teasing from the rest of the crew. Aside from the temperature thing Luffy, despite being rubber never feels stiff in his hugs, that is, until he wraps an arm or leg around you which interestingly enough only feels that way until he’s done stretching. You can’t really figure that one out but it’s better you don’t think about it too much. Anyway holding/hugging Luffy is generally a very comforting experience even when he’s too hot or cold(then he puts his hands up your shirt wether you scream or not he still gets smacked by Sanji/Nami) 9/10 I would def get daily hugs from this man.

Zoro

Look guys even before timeskip Zoro is comfy to hug, they’re big, all encompassing, and feel safe. He can tell you all he wants that he doesn’t like hugs but he does, just maybe not infront of anyone else. Zoro runs pretty hot but not enough so that hes sweating for anything over 65 like Ace is, he gets hot quickly when doing any kind of physical activity but otherwise he’s got a completely normal body temp. Don’t even get me started on this man’s tits OH MY GOD they’re literally the perfect headrest, do not ever tell him this though he won’t let you touch him for at least a week if it’s just you guys but if it’s around everyone else it could last up to a month. (Actually it’s because once he thinks about it more he gets horny and embarrassed that you think that about his tits so he avoids you). 7/10 this man is STIFF until he gets used to hugging you after which it goes to a solid 10/10

#ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas d. ace #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece

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an0nfr0mth3d3n · 6 months

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more headcanons/story bits/whatever

So one day Pac woke up early because he really needed a piss and he got up out off the bear furs (shush I know we haven’t seen bears yet on purgatory but I had the idea in my head that soulfire uses animal furs as blankets around the base and there’s a sleeping room that is lined with the reeeally fluffy furs and everyone pretty much dog piles in there and it’s pretty much a hot mess, but necessary cause they can’t afford to keep the campfires burning at night because DUH the BASE might BURN DOWN and it gets REALLY COLD so they just have this insulated room and it’s nice and cozy and OKAY I’ll get on with it) and he left the room to go to the elevator and get out.

He got to the surface and went in the woods to do his business, and it was like, that morning purple? Where the sun isn’t up but you can see the outline of trees where they just look like they were painted black against the sky? And occasionally a bird will fly by and they too just look dark against the sky. The first couple whistles of tentative birdsong are echoing in the silent woods and he turns around to go home, shivering and regretting not grabbing a winter coat or at least one of the furs.

When Pac gets near the base however, he sees Fit sitting on a fallen spruce tree, facing towards the sea, sharpening a Diamond sword on his knee. (Rhymes. Hah.)

Fit, who heard him approaching, turns his head and beckons pac over to sit next to him. Pac does so, even though he is SO COLD he thinks if he sits down the bark will freeze to his pants. He sits because he is a massive simp, and they kind of just watch the sky slowly brighten up, and additional details get revealed onto the silhouetted trees as if someone is carefully tracing over them with cyan dye, and bleeding it into a mix with dark green.

Pac is still super cold and he doesn’t NOT shiver because A. That’s hard to do when you are pretty much in your pajamas in 20 degree (FAHRENHEIT BISHES IM AMERICAN although metric is better Fahrenheit is better on a numerical scale cause when it is 109 degrees F it feels like it would be the number 109 and not some wacky other number. I will concede metric units to you because as an engineering student every time I see American units being used in a problem I cry a little inside)

(wait a second Pac would use Celsius becau- oh whatever it doesn’t matter that much)

apologies for the rant

in 20 degree weather, and B. Maybe Fit would-

“Do you want me to. Uh. Go down and grab a coat?” Fit offers, his throat husky from disuse.

Pac mentally facepalms. “Ah, no I’m doing good actually! Great! Really. I’m not, it’s not like I’m cold!”

They sit for a while in awkward silence. The stirrings of the world become more frequent around them, woodpeckers knocking into trees, and the breaching of whales in the distance. Fit turns around to look towards the base where all of their friends are still sleeping.

As if he had been checking that no one could come up and see them, Fit puts the sword into his inventory and reaches over, gently dragging Pac to sit, not in his lap because that would be crossing a line of things that roommates did, but on the log space in between his legs (ok so like I imagine he like, moved back a bit on the log, and like, manspread so there’s a seat there). Fit’s arms wrapped around Pac, just to keep him warm and stop his shivering, it wasn’t as if there was ANOTHER reason what are you talking about of COURSE not.

They sit there, watching the world around the base slowly come to life. The first cloud lights up a golden color, and the sky blushes with beauty. Its still cold, but sometimes the cold isn’t all that bad.

This was not a headcanon what went wrong what did I do oh god

#qsmp fitmc #qsmp pactw #fitpac #hideduo #qsmp soulfire #q!pactw #q!fitmc

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ninyard · 1 month

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i have to ask, do you have any kevin hcs from his childhood in ireland?

yes :) yes I do :) depending on how long he grew up there some of these might be irrelevant but here’s some baby kev in Ireland (these are kind of stupid but regardless here they are)

- While Kayleigh had him playing no-contact kid safe Exy, he also played hurling. It’s an Irish team sport that is played using a stick and a small hard ball and a lot of Irish kids play it. It’s a pretty big sport in Ireland, it’s really fast paced, and the only protection players wear is a helmet with a grate/face guard thing. You can “check” other player with your shoulder so long as the other person has the ball and you have one foot on the ground and tbh if you read the rules it wouldn’t surprise me if it inspired Kayleigh to invent Exy in some manner

- he went to a gaelscoil (Irish speaking school) for his first two years or so in school. This means they only speak in Irish and learn all of their subjects through Irish. Because of this Kevin can count and knows colours in Irish but doesn’t really know a whole lot else

- Kevin is naturally unbothered by cold weather because he spent those early years of his life in Ireland. He’ll wear shorts when the sun is barely peeking out of the sky and it’s only like 15 degrees Celsius outside because that’s just what Irish people do. We savour the sun in the tiny bits we see of it.

- Irish people love famous Irish people, so I bet Kayleigh would’ve been on local TV quite a lot. There’s a couple of interviews and videos of Kevin as a tiny Kevin playing baby Exy out there that he keeps hidden from the foxes. NOBODY knows they exist. Also as a tween he probably did some more interviews from the US for Irish TV. If somebody found them he would die on the spot.

- Kayleigh lived in Dublin before she had Kevin, and her family were from much more rural areas on the other side of the country, so Kevin doesn’t remember meeting her family at all. He would’ve met his grandparents a handful of times, but because he was so young, he doesn’t remember it. They were fluent Irish speakers, though, so Kayleigh always spoke in Irish around her family.

- Kayleigh’s funeral was in Ireland, and that was the first time Kevin had been back in Ireland since they moved to the US full time. It was really overwhelming for him, because so many memories kept coming back to him, memories he’d forgotten because he’d been so young.

- his grandparents call him by his Irish name, not Kevin. He doesn’t like it, but it’s their native language so he just accepts it. If any one of the foxes thought of calling him Caoimhín he’d kill them.

- (Kayleigh’s family make fun of his American accent. Irish people love making fun of Americans)

Kevin doesn’t remember a lot about living in Ireland but what he does remember is a lot of fond memories of his mom, and if he wants to feel close to her, he reminisces on it a lot. He has as many old interviews of her as he could possibly find, videos of her in university, and as much as it pains him to watch his mother beside Tetsuji as business partners, he watches those too. One interview is his favourite, one that Kayleigh did for the Irish language news, and it’s an interview where she’s talking about Exy as gaeilge/in Irish. She doesn’t falter, or trip over her words, or have to think at all about what she’s saying. It’s her first language, and she falls into it so easily. It makes him sad to think of how different his life would be if they’d stayed, but he would never go back in time and ask her to. She achieved her dream, she represented Ireland at their first Olympics, and the USA once she’d gotten her citizenship. He would do anything to have her back, but he wouldn’t change that.

#Ireland makes Kevin think of home even though it wasn’t his home for very long #idk this is silly but #I’m claiming him #the only valid Irish-American #kevin day #I’m currently reading a news article about a referee who is currently in hospital because he broke a bunch of bones in his face #because he got hit in the face by a sliotar #and like….thats NEWS here

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 27 days

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My Head Is Stripped

First posted: August 7, 2019

Focuses on: Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent

Favorite bookmark: "things that make me happy"

Tier: Middle-ish

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

I am a deeply unhappy sick person. I rarely get sick, so when I do finally succumb, I am miserable and I, regrettably, make no effort to keep the misery from spreading. (Germs, yes. Misery, no.)

Clark's rambling, grumbly, petulant opening thoughts are very me.

Clark tightened his grip on his fabric shield and shuffled toward the sound. X-ray vision felt like too much work, so he leaned in and pressed his eye to the peephole. He wiped the moisture from his eye and tried again.

This fic was, if I remember correctly, one of those that was incredibly easy to write because it was less like creating and more like dictating. I sat back and watched them do their thing and just had to find the right ways to describe what was happening—or, in the case of Clark choosing to look through the peephole, explain why what I was seeing happen did actually make sense to be happening.

When the door opened, Bruce Wayne blinked at him. Just once. It was Bruce’s way of showing deliberate surprise, like taking a beat.

It's a very cat mannerism of him and I love it. I think I've used it in other fics, too.

Bruce Wayne didn’t look like he had ever wanted to discorporate in his life. Artfully tousled hair, tastefully expensive clothes without so much as a wrinkle, a good, healthy tan—even his shoes were shiny. Clark wanted to punt him into the sun.

Like I said, he's a crankypants.

Or the way Clark’s gripe came out closer to Dank ew, Wod’s Greadess Dedekdiv, wad gab id away?

I sat on my bed in my room quietly sounding this one out to figure out how to write it phonetically.

“I didn’t think you could get sick.” Bruce made a dismissive gesture down the length of Clark’s body, then turned away.

This specific line came back to BITE ME in a later fic in this series. We have elected to roundly ignore the error.

“Feed a cold, Clark.” “What?” Clark asked, though the word was muffled by the couch curtain. “Feed a cold, starve a fever. It’s a saying.”

I had to google it. I can never remember which goes with which.

Something cold and hard touched his face. Clark jerked and cracked open one eye. A thermometer hovered in front of his face. “Where?” Clark croaked. “I don’t have one.” “It’s mine.” At Clark’s look, Bruce shrugged. “Kids. Someone’s always sick at my house. Besides, I said I thought it was code, not that I was sure.”

Another moment for explanations, knowing Bruce absolutely would insist on taking Clark's temperature but also clocking that Clark would never own one and it felt a bridge too far to be like "oh it's on his belt next to the shark repellent spray."

Cool fingertips ghosted behind Clark’s ear, lingering just long enough to gauge the heat of his skin, then disappeared as Bruce retreated into the kitchen. “You don’t feel warm. Leave it in until it beeps, then tell me what the display says.”

He's such a dad. And no toxic masculinity here folks!!!

In the kitchen, Bruce was silent and Clark could picture Bruce’s long, flat-browed look. Barry called it his Don’t be stupid look.

That's what my friends called my dad's look. And mine. It's an inherited trait.

Also, Bruce mentions the thermometer's blue button which was literally just me describing my thermometer at the time, thank you, Target.

When the thermometer beeped, Clark pulled it out and squinted at the display. “Thirty-six? That doesn’t seem right.” “It’s in Celsius. You don’t have a fever. Good. How did you get sick?”

I thiiiiiink the chat had been having a discussion before about Alfred keeping the Manor stocked and this being his preferred thermometer brand. Or maybe just what Bruce was used to reading.

“You weren’t even there,” Clark whined, returning to the matter of the sickly translator.

No, because it wouldn't have happened if Bruce had been there.

There was a tug on Clark’s quilt, and the bare foot that had fallen off the end of the couch was tucked back in.

Such a daaaaaaaad! I was so delighted mentally picturing Bruce in his true element, sleeves rolled up, puttering from living room to kitchen and back as he got Clark's crap in order.

“Uhhh…” Clark struggled to sit up and keep himself fully wrapped in the quilt. “Head. Hurts. Feels… full? Like, full.” “Use your words, Mr. Reporter.”

Bruce grunted. Use your words… Ha.

I love them.

“I understand the saying is ‘Game recognizes game.’” Bruce gave another shrug. “I have the experience.”

I was dyyyyyyyinggggggg to use that line and the comments section rewarded me for the choice.

“Budge over,” he instructed, nudging Clark to the end of the couch so he could sit and rest the tray on the coffee table. Clark scooted and mentally added the phrase to his running list of words that made Bruce sound like Alfred.

I did make sure to weave that back in again in... N&N, I think? Yeah. In one of the Tim chapters.

“Bruce, I don’t think some salt and heat are going to fix this,” Clark mumbled.

Clark is so ANNOYING to make sick when he's not also robbed of his invulnerability. So many things we do to comfort sick people don't WORK if your skin doesn't respond to heat or cold or pressure!!

Bruce frowned down at the quilt. “Your layers are wrong. Where’s your linen closet?”

Bruce is correct, it is VITAL to get your layers right, or you'll overheat or freeze at just the wrong time and there might be too much PRESSURE and if that happens you'll just want to lay down and die because you're already sick and everything is the worst.

Bruce placed Clark’s head on his thigh just above his knee and said, “I’m going to place some eucalyptus oil under your nose. It’s an irritant to human skin, but it shouldn’t bother you, and the smell will help.”

I genuinely did not know eucalyptus oil was an irritant before writing this fic. My mom used to put it in a diffuser when we were sick, and I liked the smell a lot. Clark would likely not own a diffuser and it would be bulky for Bruce to carry.

A calloused thumb swiped gently at the corners of Clark’s eyes without comment, as if the tears were nothing more than the product of sinuses gone mad.

I just really needed them to be soft together, okay

Bruce’s hands, steady and sure, began to gently press against his face. “Facial massage can relieve sinus pressure,” Bruce explained. Clark doubted that any amount of pressing and massaging could ease pressure in a skull built to withstand an atomic bomb. And maybe it didn’t, but the contact felt good, and when Bruce’s blunted fingers scraped upward and began running through Clark’s hair, he sighed again and let himself relax against Bruce’s soft Italian slacks.

This was me DESPERATELY wanting Bruce to play with Clark's hair because that's all I want when I'm miserable and sick, and justifying making it happen any possible way I could. My dad, when he was trying to get us to sleep, would trace his finger across our brows, down the bridge of our nose, and across our cheekbones in a loop, too, and I wanted to add a little of that.

Clark half-expected a gruff “Goodnight, Clark-boy” from his pa.

My mom tells me this is a reference to The Waltons. It's a TV show.

Instead, Clark was enfolded in the subtle musk of Bruce’s aftershave as lips pressed to his forehead.

I wrote this whole thing so I get a little treat for me.

And in the cruelest of ironies, I posted this and not two weeks afterwards was sick and so so so so so so sad I didn't have a Bruce to take care of me.

#fanfic bts brain dump #superbros #bruce wayne #clark kent #fanfic #batfic #world's finest

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the-amazing-simp · 2 years

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Spidey Sniffles | UDDUP Collection

📝 Title: Spidey Sniffles

📚 Requested: Yes/No

✍ Summary: Just because he’s Spider-Man doesn’t mean Peter can’t get sick. Luckily, he has you to take care of him.

📖 prompt: first time being sick and getting cared for by their partner

Series Masterlist

“Peter, I’m home!” You called out into his your shared apartment, kicking the door close with your foot.

Hearing no answer, you furrowed your brows as you placed the takeout on the kitchen counter, “Peter?” You called out again.

“I’m here!” You could hear his muffled voice call from the living room just when you’re about to pull out your phone.

“That’s great!” You said, walking to the living room, “I actually got us takeout from that restaurant across the street then we could watch a movie-“

You suddenly stopped in your tracks when you were met with the sight of Peter lying on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him.

You may not have your boyfriend’s Spidey senses, but you knew something was wrong.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Peter smiled in an attempt to convince you, “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re wrapped up in your blanket like a burrito when the cold usually doesn’t bother you.” You deadpanned.

“So?” Peter shrugged innocently, “It’s more cold today than usual.”

You shook your head, “Not fooling me. You’re usually hotter than a heater.”

He grinned cheekily, “Thanks honey.”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “I’m serious, Pete.”

Peter threw the blankets off him and stood up to prove a point, “I’m telling you I’m fine. I’ll even help you with the takeout.”

As soon as he took five steps forward, he was going to crumple onto the floor if you hadn’t caught him.

“Goodness Peter!” You exclaimed as you dragged him over to the couch, “You’re almost literally burning up!”

“I’m not.” He weakly protested as you dropped him onto the couch.

Ignoring him, you grabbed for the thermometer and stuck it in his mouth.

“Seriously Peter, do you really think you can fool me? Half the reason I basically cling to you is because you’re my personal heater. Now you’re wrapped in blankets and insisting that you’re fine when your temperature is basically at..” Pausing, you plucked the thermometer out of his mouth, “38.4 degrees Celsius!”

“Fine!” Peter jutted his bottom lip out in a pout, “I am sick. But, you don’t have to take care of me, as much as I would love you to play nurse - I don’t want you getting sick too.”

You laughed, going to get him a glass of water and some medicine, “First of all, we literally live together in the same apartment, so there’s no getting rid of me. Second of all, I’m your girlfriend, and I’m taking good care of you whether you like it or not.”

Setting the glass on the coffee table in front of him and putting the pills in his hand, you continued, “And don’t even think about arguing about going on patrol tonight, because you’re not.”

“But-“ he started to protest.

Raising a brow at him, you asked, “Do I need to call Aunt May?”

His eyes widened before he shook his head, “No ma’am.”

You grinned, “I thought so.”

—

Thank goodness you ordered some chicken soup for the takeout.

Peter sneezed as soon as you put down the steaming bowl, “You always seem to know exactly what I need.”

You laughed, “Maybe it’s just the good ol’ girlfriend senses.”

It was Peter’s turn to laugh as you fed him some soup, “Girlfriend senses?”

“Yeah.” You answered casually, “If you have your spidey senses then I have my girlfriend senses, which tells me exactly what you need and how I can make you happy.”

Peter chuckled, raising your hand to his lips, “Your presence is enough to make me happy.”

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you said, “You’re sick but you’re still cheesy.”

He dramatically feigned offence, “I thought you loved my cheesiness.”

“I do.” You giggled, “And it’s nice to know that you’re not in the worst condition possible since you still have the nerve to be cheesy.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Peter said sarcastically.

—

“I swear, I’m fine. Go sleep in our bed so you’ll be comfortable.” Peter insisted as you laid out the mattress on the floor beside the couch.

“Peter, I don’t care if I have to sleep on a rock as long as I get to take care of you.” You said.

Peter gave a small smile, “How was I able to get an angel like you to be with an idiot like me, I’m literally no good for you.”

You chuckled as you joked, “Honestly? Aunt May threatened me and is now paying me by the hour.”

He laughed while you pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Jokes aside, I’m the one who’s lucky to have you. If you want, you can just think of this as a way of me repaying you for every time you’ve took care of me.”

“I’m your boyfriend.” He simply states, “It’s my responsibility and pleasure to take care of you.”

“And I’m your girlfriend.” You countered, “So it’s my responsibility and pleasure to take care of you.”

“You’re a remarkable woman.” Peter chuckled.

“I’m fully aware of that.” You smiled.

—

Checking your phone the next morning, you were met with a text from Aunt May: how’s Peter doing?

He seems to be recovering quickly, (mostly thanks to our amazing care for him and not his powers) but he’s still asleep now so I could give you a more specific update later. You replied.

“Gossiping about me, aren’t ya?” Peter’s raspy voice reached your ears as he peaked at you from the edge of the couch, hair sticking up in different directions.

“Of course we are.” You snickered, turning your phone to face away from him, “As a matter of fact, Aunt May and I always gossip about your well-being.”

“While you’re at it.” He smiled sweetly, “Can you get me a glass of water? I’m feeling thirsty.”

You raised a questioning brow at him, “It’s been about 16 hours. Normally you would’ve recovered by now.”

He shrugged before jutting his bottom lip out in a pout and giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen, “Please?”

“Fine.” You gave in as you stood up, “But just because your sick and not because of those damned big brown doe eyes of yours.”

The second you had turned away from him, a smack filled the air as Peter’s hand came in contact with your ass.

When you looked at him, he had a cheeky grin and innocently questioned, “What?”

“You seem to be feeling quite better now.” You said.

Peter Parker and Andrew Garfield tag list: @beloved-bucky, @hunnybunimdun, @andrewgarfield2022, @jasmin7813, @andrewgarfieldsbae, @spxiiee, @shaded-echoes, @holy-macncheese-balls, @mcugeekposts, @dwindlinghazee, @anonyymoouussssss

TDDUP Collection: @speeder-sparker

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frozenwolftemplar · 9 months

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Writer's Month Day 24: Summer

Fandom: Carmen Sandiego (Netflix)

Rating: G

Word Count: 307 (more or less)

Summary: Nothing much, just a quiet summertime moment for Carmen.

This is a fic that was written in all of fifteen minutes before bed because I desperately needed something for this prompt and it was coming down to the proverbial wire; apologies if it isn't up to my usual standard.

+++

Pulling her feet up to the seat of the park bench, Carmen rested her chin on her knees and sighed contentedly as she swept her gaze over the twilit park.

“Hey, Zach, check it!” Ivy rushed over to her brother, hands clasped. “I caught one!”

“Aw, cool!” Zach watched in awe as a firefly lifted off Ivy’s palm, lazily blinking greenish-yellow as it drifted across the empty soccer field. “Hey, sis, wouldn’t it be cool if we could do that?”

“Fly?”

“No, light up our-“

“Ew! Zach! Why would you even *want* to?”

“Just picture it, Ivy!”

“I am, and you are going to pay for that.”

From her outwardly impartial bench (she was siding with Ivy on this one), Carmen watched the siblings racing across the dewy grass as Zach evaded the headlock Ivy kept trying to put him in, smiling quietly to herself.

Growing up, she’d never understood all the fuss over summer. When you grow up on a tropical island where the mercury rarely dips below eighteen Celsius, the prospect of long, hot, sun-drenched days doesn’t hold the allure it did for the students and operatives who used to joke that the best part of joining VILE was the free trip to the land of endless summer.

No one, though, had mentioned that other side of summer; the soft twilight hours that stretched long and languid into the evening, the welcome cool of advancing night that still held a faint scent of daylight, the fireflies and crickets and the simple enjoyment that was sitting on a park bench in defiance of an ‘open dawn to dusk’ sign (really, she’d violated far worse) watching good-natured horseplay between your friends (Ivy had finally succeeded, but was laughing too hard for her headlock to be anything more than ticklish).

She didn’t believe in magic or anything, but this...this came close.

+++

Author's Note: It struck me while writing this that oh crap, VILE's an international organization and would probably use Celsius. 🤦‍♀️

#writersmonth2023 #writersmonth #carmen sandiego #ivy #zach #cs fanfic #carmen sandiego 2019 #in which i write #my writing #carmen sandiego fanfiction

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lenievi · 2 years

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The Triumvirate in The Enemy Within

I really love this scene in The Enemy Within - it’s the prototype for Spock and McCoy offering Jim options and it set a high standard that some later episodes didn’t actually manage to reach imho

There is a “myth” in the fandom that McCoy and Spock’s arguments are only about emotions VS logic, but that’s a very simplified view imho because that logic manifest itself into “it’s fine to sacrifice a few so many can live” and the emotions manifest into “no way that’s the decision I’m willing to go with” and this scene is the very first example of what gets more explored in the Galileo Seven when it comes to Spock and McCoy

(it’s long...)

This episode, perhaps made too early in the season, but I don’t think it would work this well later because McCoy and Spock’s reactions might be different, has Kirk being split into two halves - both of them are a Kirk (and I’m not going to call them good and evil because it isn’t that), but only one can be reasoned with, which is the one we follow through the episode. But that half starts to lose his ability to make decisions soon. The split was caused by a transporter malfunction and to add some tension and drama to the episode, four men (including Sulu) are trapped on a planet where they’re about to freeze because the temperature is extremely low (like minus 50-60 Celsius and lower)

There was also an alien dog, who also got split, but they figured out that the transporter might put him back together - which it did, but the dog died (as a side note, the first filmed “He’s dead, Jim.” was actually about this dog). And now the scene

McCoy is trying to figure out what killed the dog and just from a cursory look prior to the autopsy he states

I don't know. Animal could have died of some kind of shock.

which is something Spock believes is 100% true

SPOCK: For once, I agree with you. MCCOY: I said could have, Mister Spock. We won't know until we get a full post-mortem. SPOCK: No autopsy is necessary to know that the animal was terrified, confused. It was split into two halves and suddenly thrust back together again. Thus shock induced by blind terror.

as Kirk points out, “It sounds likely.” - but it’s all just Spock’s “hunch”, a theory because other things could have gone wrong. It was an unprecedented transported accident and who’s to say that it didn’t mess up the animal’s organs?

SPOCK: It couldn't understand. You can. You have your intelligence controlling your fear.

Jim doesn’t argue and trusts Spock’s words and orders the transporter room to be ready. But McCoy steps in

MCCOY: Could be, if, maybe. All guesswork so far. Just theory. Jim, why don't you give me a chance to do an autopsy and let Spock check the transporter circuits again.

and Jim once again trusts this

KIRK: That sounds, sounds reasonable. We should double-check everything.

Kirk is obviously confused and doesn’t know what to do and he latches on anything his two friends provide him with because at the moment he doesn’t have the ability to decide. He lost his ability to be a competent captain.

SPOCK: Aren't you forgetting something, Captain? KIRK: No, I don't think I've for SPOCK: Your men on the planet surface. How much time do they have left?

Spock needs to remind him that his men are dying. He needs to remind him of the “needs of the many” (one Kirk vs four men) - he needs to remind him of his responsibility as a captain, which is always to his crew and the ship

KIRK: Yes, that's right. The men. We have to take the chance, Bones. Their lives

he remembers and knows that he needs to do the right thing and fast (note: this is the first time Kirk calls McCoy “Bones”, in production order. I like to hc that it slipped because he wasn’t in control. Before this Jim didn’t allow himself to use the friendly nickname to maintain some form of a decorum, even though McCoy was always allowed to call him “Jim”, but so was Spock, but after this Jim was like whatever, it’s not like the crew doesn’t know McCoy is my personal friend with the way I allow him to act towards me).

But McCoy disagrees

MCCOY: Suppose it wasn't shock, Jim. Suppose death was caused by transporter malfunction. Then you'd die. They'd die, anyway. Jim, you can't risk your life on a theory!

and this is a part I personally find fascinating (lol). McCoy’s emotions overshadow the need to save four dying men. They’re not right in front of McCoy (so he doesn’t need to think about them), Jim is and Jim’s life is important (not just because Jim is the captain of the ship where McCoy serves, but because Jim is his friend - and throughout the series there’s very little that would make McCoy think about someone/something else over Jim [Jim being in danger is the keyword though]). McCoy doesn’t want him to just risk his life on Spock’s “theory” because tbh it is just a theory, a hunch. If Jim goes through the transporter and dies, it’s a risk that could be prevented if they just waited for the autopsy/Spock made sure that the problem wasn’t the transporter itself. If the men on the planet go through the transporter and die, well, they would freeze to death anyway. (This is the scene I always remember when people are like McCoy thinks about all lives... except he doesn’t when Jim is concerned [I’m probably slightly more biased when it comes to Jim and McCoy’s friendship because the fans tend to not find it as important/strong as the other two, but it just doesn’t align with what is on screen]. McCoy was slightly more colder and pragmatic at the beginning of the series, his association with Spock probably made him voice the concerns about “the few” more vocally, to counteract Spock’s cold logic - but that comes after the experience on the Galileo/Taurus II)

SPOCK: Being split in two halves is no theory with me, Doctor. I have a human half, you see, as well as an alien half, submerged, constantly at war with each other. Personal experience, Doctor. I survive it because my intelligence wins over both, makes them live together.

Notice how open Spock is about his own circumstances, he explains himself where he’s coming from, so McCoy can understand. He isn’t rushing forward with some idea he just thought of, he believes that like his own, Kirk’s intelligence can also win over both of his halves.

Your intelligence would enable you to survive as well.

In my personal hc this episode is when Spock realizes that Kirk also has to fight two halves of himself and that those halves, even when the other one is unpleasant and ugly, make Kirk the man he is. Like himself, Kirk is wearing masks all the time, he denies himself what he wants. “You're the Captain of this ship. You haven't the right to be vulnerable in the eyes of the crew. You can't afford the luxury of being anything less than perfect.” and Spock has a chance to see Kirk as not perfect, as vulnerable, and it changes how he sees him. (Like, with McCoy, I don’t think Spock is aware that McCoy too pretends, that his outward emotions also serve as protection and hide his true feelings because it’s a complete opposite to what Spock is doing and what Kirk is doing. But that’s also why he finds McCoy interesting because lbr he is the most emotional and irrational human we can see on the Enterprise)

KIRK: Help me. Somebody... make the decision.

Seeing Kirk like this is hard for both Spock and McCoy. They see the man they admire and trust losing himself in front of their eyes.

SPOCK: Are you relinquishing your command, Captain? KIRK: No. No, I'm not.

Only a reminder of losing his command brings a little of whole!Kirk’s fight back because even in this state, losing his command is unacceptable (the same way as the other half suffers that he isn’t recognized as the captain and in command)

MCCOY: Well then, we can't help you, Jim. The decision is yours.

and McCoy reminds him that as long as Jim is in command, all decisions must be his own. Neither Spock nor McCoy can do it for him. They can make suggestions, but the final decision should always be Jim’s. And that’s how it is in the series. McCoy can tell Jim what he thinks, and he does, but he doesn’t actually expect Jim to listen to him 100%. He just needs to give him a push if he thinks Jim is slipping or about to make a decision that would hurt him (”Don’t destroy the one named Kirk.” “Jim, if you have the awareness to ask yourself that question, you don't need me to answer it for you. Why don't you ask James T. Kirk? He's a pretty honest guy.”), otherwise he trusts Jim pretty completely tbh

So I really love that they make McCoy say this here.

Well, at the end, Jim doesn’t actually make the decision. He takes both advices.

KIRK: Mister Spock, ready the transporter room. Bones, continue the autopsy.

because both have their merit and he trusts both McCoy and Spock and at the moment doesn’t know how to make the best decision.

(What I like about this scene is the clear difference in Kirk’s voice when he orders Spock as a commanding officer, and when he tells McCoy to continue the autopsy as a friend, underlined with his use of “Mr Spock” and “Bones” - showcasing the difference between the more professional relationship he has with Spock, and the less professional relationship he has with McCoy.)

I honestly love this scene because it shows that Kirk needs both Spock and McCoy to be at his best. That he values both of their advices and that he takes both under consideration. When he is his whole self, he knows what to take from both to make something even better. He’s able to combine the suggestions or at least get inspired when they offer him two extreme options.

This is probably the best scene for understanding what the trio is about. It also works the best because McCoy and Spock don’t argue with each other, but they both direct their advice to Jim without either of them insulting the other one. (but this is literally the first episode that has Spock and McCoy interact and only later the writers realized that hm they could be getting into petty arguments, let’s do that, but most stuff in season 1 is actually quite well balanced)

McCoy is focused on here and now and the life of an individual, whereas Spock is focused on the bigger picture and the lives of many (he is worried that he isn’t correct in his assumptions, but the men need to be saved even if it means to use the captain as a guinea pig, it’s the logical thing to do). We see this in other episodes later as well, even as far as The Paradise Syndrome in season 3, and the combination of both became one of the most Spock related things in the franchise.

AMANDA: Spock. Does the good of the many outweigh the good of the one? SPOCK: I would accept that as an axiom. AMANDA: Then you stand here alive because of a mistake ...made by your flawed, feeling, human friends. They have sacrificed their futures because they believed that the good of the one, ...you, ...was more important to them.

#jim kirk #leonard mccoy #spock #the enemy within #star trek tos #tos nonsense #this is long... why do i need so many words for one scene?#it isn't shippy but it has some mckirk bias ngl #maybe also some spones bias idek #but not in a romantic sense #in any case this is how i see the scene and the early relationships

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blue-pearl832 · 4 months

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Chapter Four of Pearl’s perfect plan

Confrontation and cookies

After coming home from school Grian confronts Pearl about casting scar as his love interest in the play he finally lets out his emotions and Pearl and Grian make cookies and talk about there emotions .

When both grian and pearl arrived home after drama club Grian immediately confronts Pearl “Pearl what have you done!”Grian said in a distressed tone “what do you mean Grian I did a lot of things today I went to the library I got I a coffee name something specific.” Pearl said teasing Grian she know what he’s talking about but she thinks it fun to mess with him.”Oh I don’t know casting scar as my love interest!” He said anger in his voice”Oh come on he was perfect for the role and it’s not like you to can’t stand each other right?” Pearl said trying to cool grian down “Well yeah we can work together…but that’s not the point in act two both of our characters kiss !” Grian said grasping at straws as to why he was so distressed with playing scars lover.”And..do you have a problem with that gri”Pearl said trying to let grian just pour his emotions out “no it’s just how… am I going to kiss him knowing he’ll never love me in that way knowing it’s all pretend.”he said finally letting is emotions out and letting pearl see what was hurting him as he slumped down on the table . “And how do you know he doesn’t love you in that way too Gri maybe he does.” Pearl said trying to be there for her brother “I don’t want to find out what if he doesn’t I and ruin one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.”Grian said just letting it all out “I don’t want him to see me as weird and push me away he makes my so happy I don’t want him to leave “ Grian said tears running down his face bottled emotions being released.“It’s okay gri I still think he would like you back but take your time and until then I will always be there for you.”Pearl said gently holding her brother in her arms “why don’t we make some cookies like mum used to make when we’re kids .”She said still comforting Grian “T-that sounds nice …” he said tears still rolling down his face “ok then we’ll bake some cookies together like we used to.” Pearl said standing up with grian and heading to the kitchen.

”Alright grian we need Flour , 3 eggs , baking soda, salt , brown sugar , vanilla extract , butter , regular sugar and chocolate chips.”Pearl said reading off a recipe from an old cookbook “Here I think that’s everything what’s next “Grian said setting everything down on the counter “ now we need to get a large mixing bowl and combine all the dry ingredients together whisking each time” Pearl said trying to make sense of the yellow paper and faded letters “Then I’m pretty sure we add melted butter, and then the eggs one at a time”Pearl said stringing together the ingredients in the bowl.”The butter is melting Pearl can you start preheating the oven.”Grian said putting the butter into the microwave to melt”Ok what temperature do I set it to?” Pearl said putting down the bowl and walking to the oven .”Here let me look um..176 Celsius so one second…. 350 degrees.” He said reading over the old recipe “Ok now add in the butter and eggs to the dry ingredients mix in each egg on at a time then add in the chocolate chips.” Pearl said after mixing everything together the put the cookie dough on a baking sheet and let it bake for 25 minutes.

”who new how much work making cookies was ..”Pearl said very tired as they wait for the cookies to be ready “Definitely not us .” Grian said as Pearl gave a slight chuckle “Aw looks like someone feels a little better.”Pearl said smile at Grian’s improved mood.“Hey Pearl….do you think scar likes me…?”Grian said hesitantly he was wondering if scar might actually like him back.”Oh yeah at least I think so the look in his eyes when he looks at you tells me so .” Pearl said turning to grian and giving him a reassuring smile “I still don’t think so , but it would be incredible if he did… off of that topic who else do you want in your play?”Grian asked trying not think about that right now. “I really don’t know but I know who I’m playing the narrator.”pearl said smugly “Oh really I’m center stage and you get to be behind a curtain?”Grian said in a playful voice “Yup sounds about right.”Pearl said as both siblings started laughing . As the sent of chocolate chip cookies fills the air a little ding alerts the two that the cookies are done .

Alright here you go new chapter I probably won’t be able to post as much when school starts back up but I will post at least once a week. How did you like this new chapter? I wanted just a little angst not to much and so you got the cookie baking (: Btw the new chapter is up on AO3 my ao3 is Blue_pearl832 .

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hayffiebird · 21 days

Text

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 43 (part two)

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Author’s note: Happy Walpurgis Night, to those of you who celebrate! I hope you’ll get a great day with lots of hotdogs and bonfires and paper cups of coffee! I’m going out myself soon and it’s sunnny and 17 degrees Celsius! (That’s a lot this time of year when you live north of the wall = Sweden.)

Until then: here’s part two of chapter 43! If you enjoyed what you read please consider hitting the like button, reblog and maybe even comment! It may seem like it doesn’t make much difference – from a reader’s perspective – but it truly and absolutely means the WORLD to us starving fanfic writers. 😉❤️

Chapter 43, Between a rock and a hard place (part two)

“Her name’s Trinket. Euphemia ‘Effie’ Trinket. T-R-I-N-K-E-T.”

Haymitch stalked across the kitchen – back and forth, back and forth – with the cordless phone pressed into his ear. Cold sheets of rain poured down the windows, hammered off the roof. Hard and relentless.

“Her friend drove her to the emergency room”, he said. “Hours ago! No one’s gotten back to me!”

“I’m sorry. But this isn’t the ER, I’m afraid”, the voice said. Boy sounded too young to buy his own beer, let alone work in a hospital. “You’ve reached the reception.”

“Well, don’t you have a computer or something?” he barked. “Just look her up, how hard can it be! Her name’s …”

“I know. But it doesn’t work like that …”

“Give ‘em a ring then, what’s the damn problem?!” His anger was inking all over, not helping his case (like: at all) but he couldn’t help it. “Find out if she’s seen a doctor at least or if she’s still waiting. Woman’s got a white and pink dress on. Checkered, like a picnic rug. Can’t miss her.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed t…”

“Oh, come on! Just help me out here! Do I have to get down on my knees and beg?”

“… You’re not the husband …”

“I’m as good as. I mean …”, he added when he realized what he let slip. He rubbed a tired hand across his forehead, shoulders sagging. Effie’s silk hair ribbon that he still clutched between his fingers brushed against his clammy skin.

“She’s my children’s mother, OK. I wanted to go with her but she told me to stay put. Look after them, while she … Please, I need to know if she’s OK. If you had a wife, you’d understand.”

A long time passed.

“One phone call”, Haymitch pleaded. “Just to see if she’s still in the waiting room. Or her friend. Annabel. Tall. Brown hair. Looks like Caesar Flickerman. Ask her to get back to me as soon as she can.”

“ … Oh, alright. One moment.”

And he was left with that awful elevator music.

But at least, things were moving forward. Which was more than you could say about the last couple of hours.

After what felt like two life sentences served back to back, a click snuffed one particularly sweltering note and the man said,

“OK. From what I’ve discovered, Mr. Abernathy, your … your … Effie, she’s been called in for a cranial CT-scan.”

The words twisted Haymitch’s insides.

“Cranial? So … like the brain?”

“Yes. X-ray pictures. To look for things like an aneurysm, hemorrhage or stroke. Not, not that there has to be any”, the man added quickly. “They just need to rule out any serious and potentially fatal conditions first. Find the root cause and tailor a treatment. She’s probably totally completely fine! And her friend … Annalee? Anna Bella? … she’s with the patient. I told them to pass on your message when they see her. And that’s all I can do for you right now, I’m afraid”, he said, almost guiltily.

Haymitch nodded.

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”

He ended the call. Sunk into a chair, phone next to him on the table.

Aneurysm, hemorrhage or stroke.

Images of a Games flashed in his mind. The year the Gamemakers released that blood wave. An avalanche down the mountains, only red, and it swallowed up everything in its wake. Everything and everyone.

She’s strong, Annabel’s words echoed in his head. Stronger than most. But she’s not made out of titanium. Don’t break her.

Had he gone and done that now? Bent her every which way until she snapped right in half?

Elbows on his thighs, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Twisted the soft pink hair ribbon between his fingers. Welcomed the searing pain. Like Katniss and Finnick with their lengths of rope back in Thirteen. Only, they weren’t at fault for the things happening.

Aneurysm, hemorrhage or stroke.

From the baby monitor inside his pocket came a quiet whimper. Not a cry. Just one of those soft baby snuffles they used to make when they were sleeping. Sleeping and dreaming their little dreams, unaware of the fact that their whole life might change tonight.

Not her. Please not her too!

His loving, kind, good-hearted Effs. His sweetheart. His lighthouse. If she died, everything would be over. Everything would fall apart. Once and for all.

Their fractured, patched up little family would be nothing but ashes and ruins. And his poor, innocent, motherless children … they’d be taken away from him to live with someone else. Katniss and Peeta. Or Sae or Hazelle. If he was lucky.

Effie. Who laughed with Sae at the Hob and made shadow animals on the wall for her granddaughter. Who brought tea with honey and lemon when Katniss had that nasty flu. Who always helped Peeta out at the bakery without him having to ask. Effie, who kissed her children goodnight every day after reading them their favorite stories.

No! The thought rung out so loud and clear he could almost hear it. He shoved the images off his mind, like a suffocating blanket. She’s not dead yet! She’s not!

Outside, the rain kept pouring. The grandfather clock ticked the hours by – minute by agonizing minute. And from above: the occasional creak of footfalls. Haymitch wasn’t the only one awake; not the only one who worried.

But June, she’d hardly come out of her room all night. Couldn’t stand the sight of him, no doubt. Not after the way he treated his family. The stress he inflicted on everyone in this house.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

A round moon struggled to clear through the massive, dark clouds. No stars. No nothing.

Tick-tock.

When the phone finally rang, Haymitch almost jumped out of his own skin. He hit reply not a second signal later.

“Hello?” he blurted. “Hello? Effie?”

“No, it’s me.”

“Oh.” His shoulders relaxed. “Hi Annabel. How she doin’? Any news on her?”

“She’s OK. She’s resting now. Sorry I didn’t call before. I didn’t want to leave her side.”

“No, no. Course not.” He swallowed against the dryness of his mouth. Ran his tongue over his cracked lips. Tasted blood. “They’ve examined her, yeah?”

“Yes. It was a primary thunderclap headache.”

Her words turned him cold with dread. Thunderclap? What in God’s name was that? His feelings must have shown through his silence for she added quickly,

“Don’t worry. Sounds worse than it is. She was really lucky. Primary headaches are painful but harmless. No underlying medical condition. They kept her here as long as they did because they wanted to rule out secondary causes and health issues. There aren’t any. They think it was simply brought on by extreme stress combined with the exertion of running like she did.”

“So … she’s …” Haymitch struggled to keep his voice steady. “She’s gonna be OK then?”

Behind him came the telltale creak of the stairs and he knew without looking that June listened from the door.

“They’ve treated her with NSAID”, Annabel replied. “That’s a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug, to reduce swelling. She needs to take it easy for the next couple of days, less stress, but they see no reason why she couldn’t come home tonight. They’re keeping her here a little while longer though. For observation. She had a spinal tap so she’s not to move for an hour at least.”

“Can I see her?” His voice sounded so meek and pathetic. Heart-broken. The voice of someone who knew he had no right to ask what he was asking. “M-maybe you can look after the twins, just for a little while, and I’ll find my way into town.”

“Hey …”

The sound made him look up. June pushed herself off the door frame. Her voice not as sharp, her face less hard when she held a hand out. He passed her the phone.

“Hi … yeah”, she spoke into the receiver. “Yeah, I can stay.” She listened to something her wife said. “Right. OK. Bye.” She ended the call, eyes on Haymitch. “Bel will come get you. Effie wants to see you too.”

xXx

Why were hospitals always so cold? Haymitch lumbered after the nurse. Followed her through endless corridors.

Muted paintings on the walls. Fake green plants on the tables. All illuminated by the fluorescent light that he’d forever associate with pain and fear and heartache.

At least he was allowed in. Had this been the Capitol, the visiting hours would be long over.

They stopped in front of a door like all the others.

“Last bed on the right”, the nurse pointed and was already off.

Haymitch pushed inside.

The lights were down-low. Six beds facing opposite each other. Some of the cubicle curtains pulled shut for privacy. Soft snores. Rustle of sheets.

He treaded carefully, so as not to disturb any of the patients. Effie’s curtains were pulled only halfway, letting the scarce moonlight in.

She lay on top of the covers, reflected by the rain pouring down the glass. Dressed in a hospital gown. Eyes closed.

His heart ached when he watched her red, swollen face. Even in this dim light he could tell she’d been crying. Crying hard.

But her chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths – so different from hours before. It occurred to him that maybe they’d offered her some kind of tranquilizer.

Throat thick with regret he just wanted to take her in his arms. Hold her close and never let go.

But what right did he have? None. Less than none. And even if she’d let him, he didn’t dare. Not after what happened in the kitchen.

Instead, he took a seat by her bedside. Quiet as a mouse. Didn’t want to wake her.

No such luck. A slight creak of wood against linoleum and she stirred. Opened her eyes, heavy-lidded, groggy as she struggled and focused on him.

“Haymitch?”

“Hey, sweetheart, hi”, he said, hand against the edge of the mattress.

Her eyes fell closed but she forced them open.

“The twins …”

“They’re OK. Sleeping like … well, like babies. June’s watching over them while I’m here.”

“And you got them to bed on time?” she mumbled.

“Yeah.”

“Brushed their teeth? Changed their nappies? Read to them?”

“I did.”

“Ian can’t sleep without his binky …”

“I know, sweetheart. Just … try and relax a little bit, OK?”

Effie drew a soft sigh. Exhausted but comforted by his words. For now at least.

He made a vague gesture toward her face. “How’s your head?”

“Better. They gave me some painkillers. I told them I need to get back to my babies but they say I can’t leave this bed yet. They … they shoved a needle in my spine.”

“Yeah, I heard. I’m so sorry.”

I’m sorry. How many times could he say that in the span of 24 hours?

Effie met his gaze – beautiful blue eyes, tired and shiny with the threat of fresh tears.

”I can’t do this anymore.”

There it was. The words he’d been waiting for this whole time.

A small choked sound come from his throat just the same but he nodded, head sunk low.

“I know.”

Things will be better, he wanted to say.I’ll do better. When you get out of here I’ll turn things around, one way or another. We’ll go home, back to Twelve, and I’ll never let you down again. Cause as long as we’re together nothing else matters.

But who was he to tell her those rose-tinted lies? That’s all it really was. Effie knew better than anyone that his promises weren’t worth shit.

“When are you leaving?” he mumbled, eyes on his shaky hands.

“The day after tomorrow.” The raw pain already etched on her face spilt over into each and every one of her words. “After I’ve had my final check-up. I already told Annabel. She wanted us to stay the week but … I just can’t go on like this. I need a break from … I need some time to think. On my own. And you … you can come visit them. The solution we discussed when they were born.”

She drew a trembling breath. Swallowed her tears when she said,

“You weren’t wrong before. When you said you didn’t hurt them. You didn’t. This time. But one day you will and I can’t let you do that. Doesn’t matter what happens to me but I cannot let you hurt Amy and Ian. If you’re going to be drunk it’ll be on your own time. Not in front of our children. Never again. You’ll see them sober. Or not at all.”

Author’s note: And we’re reaching the end of Hayffie’s time in Eleven – for now at least. What did you think?

Every fic I’ve ever read where Haymitch and Effie goes on vacation they always go to District 4. “My” Hayffie did too – in the first draft of ToS – but then I felt I wanted to try something a little different and wasn’t there ANY other district they could go to? And Eleven fit surprisingly well.

So, back around New Years of 2015 I simply plucked June and Annabel’s villa overlooking the sea and re-planted it among the orchards of Chaff’s, Rue’s and Tresh’s home district instead. Hope you liked it!

Oh, and what did you think about Haymitch’s little Freudian slip? Haha! Makes you think of that Daniel Bedingfield song (“If you’re not the one”) doesn’t it? “If you’re not for me then why do I dream of you as my wife?”

#hayffie #haymitch x effie #the hunger games renaissance #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #my fanfiction #post-mockingjay #district 11

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gleeandshame · 7 months

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Gbbo botanical week 2023

Liveblogging for myself and one friend

Botanical weeks seem to replay the random nationalities, probably smart but something not common huh!

Abbi woulda thrived, huh?

Usually it’s like an old man who has a garden in past seasons who do it for fun

Gotta be real, I’m not sure how cardamom tastes

I forget spices are like… natural lol

Mulled wine to egg is so grey, looool

Quite a dangerous thing to do. “Thank you”

Go Tasha, lol, I wish her the best tho

We fight Paul here

Dana, girl, not spicing a bun but just the filling? Good luck

Was Josh also a garden boy earlier… eh we’ll see

I’ve not really baked a bread besides banana so I never had to prove anything. Seems a rough bit with their time always

That did look nice Dana, the twist

Oh I forget they might use Celsius? Or do they use F for baking. Wow I know nothing

Alison “lean on these buns” I’m…

Yes Tasha prove Paul wrong (was prove a pun)

Welp, called it with Dana

Saku works in accounting, her maths!

Like Josh’s lemon and blueberry representative frosting swirl

Good job Cristy

Alison did tell matty to prove longer lol

1 hour 30 doesn’t seem enough. They like the pressure dramas now I feel

Matty and Alison as lemon and time

That’s a big cake for each person, hope the crew gets to enjoy

Noel is actually singing “Entrance of the Gladiators” what a song for clowns huh

I don’t know crystallizing

Matty being completely confused and Tasha just watching when not supposed to

Noel and Saku messing around

Enrichment in his enclosure

Judged the technical well into the night? I don’t notice sundown often

Matty you referenced HP, unfortunately we must throw you in a pit now

Dan made something hmmm

Alison…. Hahahahhahahaaaaa

Saku is making something ambitious

Tasha just signing to be more comfortable, let’s gooooo

Is hibiscus like really popular over there???

I mean we have them where I live, like in people’s yards, but I only had a hibiscus drink like once

That box should be nice

It looks like resin

Shark attacks! Lol, Dana is fun

Yeah that’s like a sunflower texture… I didn’t notice cristy buttering the mold, oh it’s the chocolate

Dan no…..

Tasha what

Why is there tragic disasters and there’s no commentary. What a time suck!!!

Oh Tasha’s back up, plot twist!!! Good for her

Tasha is so tall… (me being normal about it)

Thank you for the help Josh!

Cristy nooo, I mean idk if there’s anything practical to do

Saku saying bless her

Cristy no… no offense to her, but she gives off the vibes of someone would would start crying so like… :(

They can eat it… this is sad. Someone mentioned if old hosts were around they would cuss up a storm to make this footage unusable

Cristy, I think you should be safe you did well earlier….

Group hug and lots of encouragement from others though

Starting out they’re judging Tasha a little too kindly on look, I think… the inside does look nice tho and do trust it’s yummy tho

That’s a nice flower and the layers are clean, Saku

Very nice flower, Josh

Josh is quite good. He just doesn’t have much personality comparatively to others

Dana’s decoration is very cool, shame about the rest

Good on ya Josh

Ah, knew she was gone, but RIP. She’s kept a great attitude. Goodbye :(

Yay calling mums

Saku asking about time off to someone named Charlotte, looool

#gbbo #gbbo spoilers

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catr4dora · 2 years

Text

Songs for Leo and his s/o:

( most of these songs are probably gonna be songs angst for when Leo left )

🖤ANGST SONGS⤵️:

No me queda mas by Selena

Too little to late by jojo

7 weeks and 3 days by Yungatita (THIS SONG😫)

Reflections by the neighborhood (BRO THIS PART😭😭: Where have you been?Do you know when you're coming back, Cause since you've been gone, I've got along but I've been sad/We were too close to the stars I never knew somebody like you, somebody Falling just as hard I'd rather lose somebody than use somebody Maybe it's a blessing in disguise (I sold my soul for you)I see my reflection in your eyes)

505 by Arctic Monkeys

Need you now by Lady A

Carly doesn’t know why (the lyrics are literally just “why does your love HURT SO MUCH”

Sweater weather by the neighborhood

Telephones by vacations

YKWIM by Ryan Celsius Sounds

I don’t want to live forever by Zayn and Taylor swift

❤️LOVE SONGS⤵️:

Lover by Taylor swift (CAN I GOO WHERE YOU GOOOOOO❤️)

Kiss you better by David Dean Burkhart (Leo being jealous of a human boy cuz he can TOTALLY kiss you better😉😳👀👀)

You get me by Tom and Angela (THIS SONG IS SO CUTE AND ITS MY CHILDHOOD)

Everything by the black skirts

Eres Mia by Romeo Santos (ik this song is possessive but still)

The heart wants what it wants by Selena Gomez

Dark red by Steve lacy

Love by keyshia cole

Falling For you by PEACHY!

Motivation by Kelly Rowland (SMEXY MUSIC FOR YOU AND LEO😉😍😳😏😏)

Line with out a hook by Ricky Montgomery

The void by The neighborhood

KINGSTON BY FAYE WEBSTER💙💜💙💜

Cinnamon girl by Lana de la Rey

—

#2007 tmnt x reader #tmnt 2007 #tmnt leo x reader

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grudgecollector · 2 years

Text

swelter | brandon mayhew

Pairing: Brandon “Badger” Mayhew / Reader

Request: Can u please write for badger again !! ❤️❤️ maybe one where he gets the reader a kitten or just general fluff like that 😍

Words: 1.1k

Tags/Warnings: straight up just fluff, swearing

A/N: (for anyone who doesn’t use Fahrenheit, the temperate in the fic is 36 Celsius)

The thought of this man cradling a little kitten in his arms literally warms my heart so much. thank you so much for your request.

Also I’m not even kidding I cry every time I come in contact with cats (which is not often) because I love them so much, and they always remind me of my childhood cats who I still greatly miss.

REQUEST INFO | MY BREAKING BAD MASTERLIST

please read my request info and check my bio before sending in any requests!

It was currently one of the hottest days of the summer, a peak of 98 and slowly climbing as the sun continued to beat down on the asphalt streets and cracked concrete sidewalks.

The air inside your car is suffocating when you get inside, every single surface stinging your skin when you touch it. You were cautious when reaching for the seatbelt, careful not to touch the metal as you click it into place. Even the air that blasts through the vents in your car is boiling hot, making it feel like your face would melt before the air finally cools and makes your car more comfortable to sit in.

“Fuck.” You sigh, feeling your sweat soak into the back of your black work shirt making it stick to your back.

You turn up the radio a little, your thumbs tapping on the steering wheel as you drive. You were lucky to live so close to where you work, not even a twenty minute drive and you were home.

Pulling into the driveway you noticed Pete’s car was parked right behind Brandon’s, which was certainly not an unusual sight. Pete was always over at your house and vice versa with Brandon being at Pete’s, especially when you were at work and he had nothing to do.

Your brakes squealed as you parked your car, the instant you opened the door you could feel all the cool air be sucked from the inside. The heat immediately soaked back into your clothes again as you walk to the front door, spinning your lanyard around letting it wrap completely around your hand a few times.

When you step inside the house your eyes instinctively land on the empty couch, thinking you would see the both of them watching something together, but instead you hear voices come from elsewhere in the house.

“It’s so tiny, yo. Man’s, like, the size of a baseball or some shit.” You heard Pete’s voice come from the kitchen.

“I know dude, I didn’t think they got so small.” Brandon’s raspy voice answers, “Holy shit.”

You furrow your brows, laughing quietly to yourself as you toe off your shoes. You drop your lanyard on the coffee table and make your way towards their voices, feeling your heart jump when you hear a small squeaking meow.

“Uh- what was that?” You ask from the entrance to the kitchen, Brandon was standing at the sink with his back to you, the sleeves of his jacket rolled up his forearms while Pete was sitting on the counter next to him.

Pete looks up from the sink and waves at you, “Yo! Never thought you’d show.” He smiles kindly, as was Pete’s nature.

“Oh hey! Look!” Brandon says, picking something up and slowly turning around “Found this little dude outside. Look at his little face!” Brandon practically coos, holding a sopping wet black and white kitten out for you to see.

Clearly the small kitten was the runt of the litter, with how it fit so easily in Brandon’s hand, tiny meows coming from it as it struggled to look up at you. It looked young too, probably no more than two weeks old.

“Brandon what-” Your heart swelled when you were interrupted by a high pitched meow “Oh my god…”

Skinny Pete drops down from the counter handing you a bath towel and soon enough the kitten was being placed in your arms for you to dry. You gently rubbed the soft towel on its wet fur, its green eyes looking up at you as you dry its head. It made you tear up a little as you continued to stare down at the little thing.

“Where did you even find him?” You ask while carefully petting the kitten’s small head, listening to it continue to let out soft mews, most likely hungry.

“Well… After you left this morning for work I kept hearing this sound outside. Thought it might be Mrs. Mary's cats from across the street, so I totally brushed it off. But, like, an hour later I heard it again, loud as hell outside the bedroom window.”

The kitten let out a yawn as Brandon continued his explanation, making the three of you chuckle.

“It was, like, twelve or some shit when I got out of bed and went to check it out. Little guy had himself wedged up under the back porch. Probably to get out of the heat for sure ‘cause it was already starting to get hot outside by the time I got out there.”

Pete nudged a plastic shopping bag with his hand, “I went by the pet store and got some stuff.” He crosses his arms with a proud nod, “Toys and shit. No food, though, cause little homie can’t eat that yet.”

“We should probably take him to the vet and see if he has a chip, and probably get a checkup to see if he’s okay.” You suggest.

And so after a quick conversation of who was paying you were off to the vet.

—

Two months later you woke up with a purring furball jumping on top of you, laying himself down on your pillow, his tail tickling against your nose as it flicked over your face. He meowed once, and you watched as he stood back up and tucked himself under Brandon’s chin, rubbing the top of his head against his jaw before meowing again.

Your boyfriend groaned quietly in his sleep, his hand moving from where it had been laying on your forearm to lazily stroke the cat’s fur.

“What is it, Data?” Brandon rasped.

“Think he’s hungry.” You answer quietly, Data meows again, pushing his head against your hand when you reach over to pet him.

“When isn’t he hungry?”

After a few minutes of laying in bed and petting the black and white furball you decided it was finally time to get up and feed him. You leaned over and kissed Brandon on the cheek before throwing the sheets off your legs and picking up your meowing trouble maker.

“G’morning.” Brandon murmurs, cracking open his eyes just a little to look up at you with a tired smile.

“Good morning.” You chuckle, “You want breakfast? Or are you gonna sleep?”

He takes a few seconds to think over your question, “Breakfast sounds good… Eggs?”

“I can make bacon too.”

“I’ll be up in a few minutes, if I can stay awake.” He answers quietly, sucking in a breath as he stretches his arms over his head.

Data meows in your arms again, making you look at him and see his big green eyes staring at you expectantly. You just shake your head and chuckle, setting him down on the floor and walking out the bedroom with him trailing close behind, meowing happily with almost every step he takes.

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