#currently trying to sleep but the fever is back with a vengeance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bastard-of-the-barrel · 3 years

Note

Hey, odd request but could you post the scene about where Kaz faints in the prison truck? I lost my copy of the book and I really wanted to read that scene today

The hinges held.

Another shout in Fjerdan, more footsteps. Then the crack of the reins and the cart surged forward, rumbling over the road. Inej let herself exhale. Her throat had gone completely dry.

Kaz took his place beside her. He shoved a hood over her head, and the musty smell filled her nostrils. He would put his own hood on next, then lock himself in. Easy enough, a cheap magician’s trick, and Kaz knew them all. His arm pressed along hers from shoulder to elbow as he locked the collar around his neck. Bodies shifted against Inej’s back and side, crowding up against her.

For now they were safe. But despite the rattle of the wagon’s wheels, Inej could tell Kaz’s breathing had got worse – shallow, rapid pants like an animal caught in a trap. It was a sound she’d never thought to hear from him.

It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.

---

The money Mister Hertzoon had left with Kaz and Jordie ran out the following week. Jordie tried to return his new coat, but the shop wouldn’t take it, and Kaz’s boots had clearly been worn.

When they brought the loan agreement Mister Hertzoon had signed to the bank, they found that – for all its official-looking seals – it was worthless paper. No one knew of Mister Hertzoon or his business partner.

They were evicted from the boarding house two days later, and had to find a bridge to sleep under, but were soon rousted by the stadwatch. After that, they wandered aimlessly until morning. Jordie insisted that they go back to the coffeehouse. They sat for a long time in the park across the street. When night came, and the watch began its rounds, Kaz and Jordie headed south, into the streets of the lower Barrel, where the police did not bother to patrol.

They slept beneath a set of stairs in an alley behind a tavern, tucked between a discarded stove and bags of kitchen refuse. No one bothered them that night, but the next they were discovered by a gang of boys who told them they were in Razorgull territory. They gave Jordie a thrashing and knocked Kaz into the canal, but not before they took his boots.

Jordie fished Kaz out of the water and gave him his dry coat.

“I’m hungry,” Kaz said.

“I’m not,” Jordie replied. And for some reason that had struck Kaz as funny, and they’d both started laughing. Jordie wrapped his arms around Kaz and said, “The city is winning so far. But you’ll see who wins in the end.”

The next morning, Jordie woke with a fever.

In years to come people would call the outbreak of firepox that struck Ketterdam the Queen’s Lady Plague, after the ship believed to have brought the contagion to the city. It hit the crowded slums of the Barrel hardest. Bodies piled up in the streets, and sickboats moved through the canals, using long shovels and hooks to tumble corpses onto their platforms and haul them out to the Reaper’s Barge for burning.

Kaz’s fever came on two days after Jordie’s. They had no money for medicine or a medik, so they huddled together in a pile of broken-up wooden boxes that they dubbed the Nest.

No one came to roust them. The gangs had all been laid low by disease.

When the fever reached full fire, Kaz dreamed he had returned to the farm, and when he knocked on the door, he saw Dream Jordie and Dream Kaz already there, sitting at the kitchen table. They peered at him through the window, but they wouldn’t let him in, so he wandered through the meadow, afraid to lie down in the tall grass.

When he woke, he couldn’t smell hay or clover or apples, only coalsmoke, and the spongy rotting vegetable stink of garbage. Jordie was lying next to him, staring at the sky. “Don’t leave me,” Kaz wanted to say, but he was too tired. So he laid his head on Jordie’s chest. It felt wrong already, cold and hard.

He thought he was dreaming when the bodymen rolled him onto the sickboat. He felt himself falling, and then he was caught in a tangle of bodies. He tried to scream, but he was too weak. They were everywhere, legs and arms and stiff bellies, rotting limbs and blue-lipped faces covered in firepox sores. He floated in and out of consciousness, unsure of what was real or fever dream as the flatboat moved out to sea. When they tumbled him into the shallows of the Reaper’s Barge, he somehow found the strength to cry out.

“I’m alive,” he shouted, as loud as he could. But he was so small, and the boat was already drifting back to harbour.

Kaz tried to pull Jordie from the water. His body was covered in the little blooming sores that gave the firepox its name, his skin white and bruised. Kaz thought of the little wind-up dog, of drinking hot chocolate on the bridge. He thought that heaven would look like the kitchen of the house on Zelverstraat and smell like hutspot cooking in the Hertzoons’ oven. He still had Saskia’s red ribbon. He could give it back to her. They would make candies out of quince paste. Margit would play the piano, and he could fall asleep by the fire. He closed his eyes and waited to die.

Kaz expected to wake in the next world, warm and safe, his belly full, Jordie beside him. Instead, he woke surrounded by corpses. He was lying in the shallows of the Reaper’s Barge, his clothes soaked through, skin wrinkled from the damp. Jordie’s body was beside him, barely recognisable, white and swollen with rot, floating on the surface like some kind of gruesome deep sea fish.

Kaz’s vision had cleared, and the rash had receded. His fever had broken. He’d forgotten his hunger, but he was thirsty enough that he thought he would go mad.

All that day and night, he waited in the pile of bodies, looking out at the harbour, hoping the flatboat would return. They had to come to set the fires that would burn the corpses, but when? Did the bodymen collect every day? Every other day? He was weak and dehydrated. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. The coast seemed so far away, and he knew he was too weak to swim the distance. He had survived the fever, but he might well die out here on the Reaper’s Barge. Did he care? There was nothing waiting for him in the city except more hunger and dark alleys and the damp of the canals. Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. Vengeance was waiting, vengeance for Jordie and maybe for himself, too. But he would have to go to meet it.

When night came, and the tide changed direction, Kaz forced himself to lay hands on Jordie’s body. He was too frail to swim on his own, but with Jordie’s help, he could float. He held tight to his brother and kicked towards the lights of Ketterdam. Together, they drifted, Jordie’s distended body acting as a raft. Kaz kept kicking, trying not to think of his brother, of the taut, bloated feel of Jordie’s flesh beneath his hands; he tried not to think of anything but the rhythm of his legs moving through the sea. He’d heard there were sharks in these waters, but he knew they wouldn’t touch him. He was a monster now, too.

He kept kicking, and when dawn came, he looked up to find himself at the east end of the Lid. The harbour was nearly deserted; the plague had caused shipping in and out of Kerch to grind to a halt.

The last hundred yards were hard. The tide had turned once more, and it was working against him. But Kaz had hope now, hope and fury, twin flames burning inside him. They guided him to the dock and up the ladder. When he reached the top, he flopped down on his back on the wooden slats, then forced himself to roll over. Jordie’s body was caught in the current, bumping against the pylon below. His eyes were still open, and for a moment, Kaz thought his brother was staring back at him. But Jordie didn’t speak, he didn’t blink, his gaze didn’t shift as the tide dragged him free of the pylon and began to carry him out to sea.

I should close his eyes, thought Kaz. But he knew if he climbed down the ladder and waded back into the sea, he would never find his way out again. He’d simply let himself drown, and that wasn’t possible any more. He had to live. Someone had to pay.

---

In the prison wagon, Kaz woke to a sharp jab against his thigh. He was ice cold and in darkness. There were bodies all around him, pressing against his back, his sides. He was drowning in corpses.

“Kaz.” A whisper.

He shuddered.

Another jab to his thigh.

“Kaz.” Inej’s voice. He managed a deep breath through his nose. He felt her pull away from him. Somehow, in the cramped confines of the wagon, she managed to give him space. His heart was pounding.

“Keep talking,” he rasped.

“What?”

“Just keep talking.”

“We’re passing through the prison gate. We made it past the first two checkpoints.”

That brought him fully to his senses. They’d gone through two checkpoints. That meant they’d been counted. Someone had opened that door – not once but twice – maybe even laid hands on him, and he hadn’t woken. He could have been robbed, killed. He’d imagined his death a thousand ways, but never sleeping through it.

He forced himself to breathe deeply, despite the smell of bodies. He’d kept his gloves on, something the guards might have easily taken note of, and a frustrating concession to his weakness, but if he hadn’t, he felt fairly sure he’d have gone completely mad.

Behind him, he could hear the other prisoners murmuring to one another in different languages. Despite the fears the darkness woke in him, he gave thanks for it. He could only hope that the rest of his crew, hooded and burdened by their own anxiety, hadn’t noticed anything strange about his behaviour. He’d been sluggish, slow to react when they’d ambushed the wagon, but that was all, and he could make up some excuse to account for it.

He hated that Inej had seen him this way, that anyone had, but on the heels of that thought came another: Better it should be her. In his bones, he knew that she would never speak of it to anyone, that she would never use this knowledge against him. She relied on his reputation. She wouldn’t want him to look weak. But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there? Inej would never betray him. He knew it. Kaz felt ill. Though he’d trusted her with his life countless times, it felt much more frightening to trust her with this shame.

The wagon came to a halt. The bolt slid back, and the doors flew open.

#six of crows #kaz brekker #leigh bardugo #grishaverse

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monaisme · 3 years

Text

Day 13: hiding injury

It started small, not even a big deal, really. It was just a tiny hairline crack in the vibranium socket that Bucky’s arm connected to at the shoulder. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for that damned soldier-serum, Bucky wouldn’t have been able to see it at all. It wasn’t like it caused him any real pain, just the occasional zing (well, maybe more than a zing?) and who’d waste a doctor or engineer’s time for something so unimportant? He could answer that in one- definitely not James Buchanan Barnes, no sir.

He knew that it would be fine. He had an appointment with the specialists in three weeks time for scheduled upgrades and maintenance and if they caught it, they could deal with it then. Problem solved. There was absolutely no need to mess with anyone’s schedule—the issue would be taken care of in good time. Really.

(For the record, if anyone asked, this had nothing to do with any sort of absolute terror at the thought of any sort of medical procedure in the first place—and there was definitely no risk of HYDRA flashbacks or meltdowns or anything like that. Nope. Nope. Nope. Not at all.)

Life as a part of the Avengers Initiative went on for Bucky, even with the totally not painful damage to his prosthetic. He and Sam had fallen into some busy work while Nick Fury and Maria Hill were taking care of some “issues” but still had the chance to stretch their legs as recruiters for the new “Junior Avengers,” as Sam liked to call them. Kate Bishop had been an interesting meeting, for sure. And the Spider-Kid had called that week, needing a hand with some drug traffickers working out of the Port Authority Bus Terminal, so that had been a nice leg stretch. All in all, there was nothing too strenuous to worry about—no natural or man-made disasters, no super villains, and no global threats. It was a win.

The problem came with the arrival of that damned lab experiment—

The creature looked to be a cross between a gorilla and a sloth, which wasn’t even the weirdest hybrid they’d seen. It was no taller than eight feet so that was a win. It also wasn’t spitting acid, puking up slime, dividing itself into clones, or eating people, so yeah, it was a good day. The only problem he and Sam could see was that it was strong... like ‘muscles rippling under hairy back’ strong.

“Okay, Bucky, same as last time! I’ll go high and you go low, and take that sucker down, got it?”

“Got it.” Bucky readied the metal cables to restrain its legs and they were off.

It was perfect, sorta’ like outta that big monkey movie with Faye Ray. Sam was flying just out of reach and distracting the creature while Bucky cinched the cable around its ankles, catching it off guard and bringing it down to the ground. Sam swooped lower, and had managed to grab one of its arms while Bucky kept it pinned.

It was all going according to plan... until the beast finally figured out what they were a coordinated assault and started fighting back... hard.

Even face down on the ground with a super soldier’s knee to its neck, this thing was causing damage. Concrete crumbled where his flailing legs, still bound, came crashing into a building. Its unbound arm got away from Sam and then, without warning, Sam was flying ass-over-tea kettle into the side of a food truck and the creature was trying to stand.

Not hesitating, Bucky jumped onto its back, trying to force it back onto its belly. There was no way they were losing all of this progress. He grabbed the loose end of the cable already on the one wrist and was almost to the other arm when all hell broke loose.

Apparently this was NOT only a sloth/gorilla hybrid. Bucky would’ve guessed that there was alien DNA of some sort, if he’d been asked, because there was nothing on this green earth that could dislocate its own shoulder on purpose and then use that arm to reach up and behind itself to grab ahold of Bucky—well, Bucky’s vibranium arm.

His vision whited out from the pain lancing through every nerve on the left side of his neck and torso.

He short circuited for a second.

It was—

He couldn’t—

Holy Hell, he hoped that he wasn’t the one screaming.

And then he couldn’t breath as the pain of impact overwhelmed him as the creature smashed him into the ground.

He succumbed to the darkness.

* * * * * *

“Are you done with nap, Snow White?” Sam nudged at him with his boot. “There’s some SHIELD agents that would like some information on our new pet before they take it away.”

Bucky blinked, and squinted against the sun outlining Sam standing over him. “Ah, shit,” he muttered and forced himself to sit up. His head swam, and for a second, Bucky thought for sure he’s go down again, but the lightning pain through his vibranium arm and shoulder were keeping him present in the here and now.

And it really sucked.

He wasn’t sure what Sam saw, but Sam was suddenly crouching in front of him and doing that ‘assessing’ thing that he did. “Hey, man, you okay? That thing clocked you pretty good, huh?”

Bucky shook off the cobwebs and smiled, “Yeah, buddy but I’m okay.”

Sam definitely didn’t believe him.

“Really, Sam. I don’t think I even have a scratch on me!” He held out his arm to prove it.

“Riiiiight, because I’m gonna believe you just because you said so.” Sam scoffed.

“Shut up and help me stand up!” Bucky laughed off Sam’s disbelief. “Of course I’m gonna look like a dumbass sitting here!” He extended his hand and waited.

Bucky must have been convincing because Sam nodded, said, “Fine.” and stood up, grabbing his hand and giving a yank to get Bucky to standing.

Bucky only stumbled a little.

Sam shifted to stand beside him, preparing to take some weight. “Are you sure you’re good? We can get you to medical and have’em check you out without all these SHIELD grunts getting in your face.”

With his head clearing more, Bucky could see all the SHIELD agents milling around; some curious about the creature, but more of them still curious about the ex-HYDRA asset turned good guy. He just ignored them and put on a false bravado. “Nah, we’re gonna be too busy figuring out what to call that thing!”

Sam beamed. “That’s right!” He turned his attention to the agents. “Hey! You! SHIELD agents!”

The majority stopped what they were doing and waited for him to go on.

Sam pointed to them all, “We call dibs on naming that thing, got it?”

Bucky snorted, “I like Slothilla, myself... but I’m not totally sold on it.”

Sam heard him, turned back and glared, “We are not doing that Brangelina shit! C’mon!” He exclaimed. “This is a chance for vengeance! To piss someone off that you have waited a lifetime to get back at.” Sam got real quiet, then looked around to make sure no one was listening. “I was thinking of naming it Manfred after my drill sergeant in Basic.”

Bucky laughed loud at that then grasped Sam’s shoulder. “No creature deserves the name Manfred, Sam. Not even that drill sergeant.” They turned in tandem, heading away from the day’s destruction, with Bucky keeping hold. “Let’s go. I’ve got to get this goroth fur off of me.”

* * * * * *

It had been a long day by the time they’d finished up with paperwork and acting as liaison between SHIELD and local law enforcement. Both men were determined to call it done. They’d dragged themselves toward their respective personal quarters, and were about to part ways when Sam asked one more time, “Are you sure you’re good, Buck?” He couldn’t seem to contain himself. “You were laid out like a pancake when I found you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky turned away from the door he desperately wanted to open and clapped back with, “Better that than a spaghetti noodle to the wall, pal.”

Yes, they were six year olds.

Sam stopped short at that, then barked a laugh. “That’s it, no more cooking channel for you.”

Bucky shook his head, “Alright, alright. I keep telling you, I’m good. I’m just gonna get some stuff done and then pack it in for the night. So go.” He shooed him away.

With one last scrutinizing stare, Sam turned toward his own quarters. He waved a hand in farewell as he walked away, but called out. “Fine! But if you need me, you be sure to call me, okay?”

He replied with, “Get lost,” and then finally escaped into his quarters where he could finally let down the act.

He’d hoped for relief when he removed his prosthetic, but none came.

He’d hoped for relief with a hot shower to loosen the tension he could feel accompanying the pain across his chest, shoulder blades, and neck, but none came.

He’d finally gotten some relief with the super-soldier painkillers he’d kept in his nightstand for emergencies... and this was an absolute emergency.

As the pain receded to a dull ache, an exhaustion Bucky hadn’t felt in a long time washed over him, and as he fell into sleep at last, he hoped for continued relief in the morning.

* * * * * *

A beam of light stretched across his face, forcing him to wake up before he was ready.

The clock on Bucky’s nightstand told him that it was far too late for him to be sleeping, but the raging fever and body aches told him that it didn’t matter one iota.

This was not good... not good at all.

He knew that he had some training simulations to run with some new recruits in the gym at... at... and the thought drifted away.

Bucky didn’t think to try and grab it.

He did grab ahold of the blanket and toss it aside in a fit of discomfort.

It was so damned hot.

Bucky slept some more.

* * * * * *

A knock on his door forced him awake for a second time.

“Up and at’em, cyborg! You’ve already missed training AND breakfast! Let’s go! We’ve got shit to do!” Sam banged on the door again.

Bucky croaked out, “Sam?”

Of course, Sam couldn’t hear that, and knocked again, “Bucky? You alive in there?”

Bucky couldn’t make himself answer a second time.

“Hey, FRIDAY? Is Bucky in his quarters?”

FRIDAY responded, “Sergeant Barnes is currently located in his private quarters.”

Bucky could swear he heard a huff of frustration in the hallway and he inhaled deep and closed his eyes to sleep again.

“Is there a reason,” Bucky’s eyes startled open as Sam resumed, “That he is not answering the door? And I swear on my mother’s underpants, if it’s because he’s taking a shit—“

“Sergeant Barnes is still in bed...”

“Are you ki—“ Sam started, but FRIDAY wasn’t done.

“... with a fever of 103.6F and climbing incrementally. He is also suff—“

Sam interrupted the AI again, this time barking out, “FRIDAY! Emergency medical override, Charlie-Alpha-2-2-4-9. Unlock the door!”

“Emergency override accepted.”

Bucky could hear his door lock automatically disengage. He didn’t know how he felt about that and then didn’t think about it at all as he started to dose again, even for the movement in his room.

A hand brushed against his forehead while another took hold of his wrist.

“Sam?”

“Shut up, asshole. I’m busy here,” He snapped at Bucky. “FRIDAY, run a complete scan. Tell me what I’m looking at here.”

“Running scan.” FRIDAY intoned, and then, “Initial scans are indicating that there is damage to the vibranium shoulder socket. Due to the slow rate of oxidization in vibranium, I cannot tell you when the damage occurred. I can, however, surmise that this affected the integrity of the fit of the socket, and said damage caused inflammation to and under the skin, which has resulted in the formation of an abscess. Recent tearing of tissue in the area of the abscess has introduced the infection directly into the bloodstream, causing the acceleration of symptoms. Blood work and ultrasound will confirm the presence of infection and its rate of spread. It is most likely that intravenous antibiotics will be recommended.”

Bucky couldn’t follow. “Wha’s that mean?” He looked down at what Sam was doing.

Sam was distracted, having moved on to poking and prodding at the inflamed skin around the vibranium. “It means that you had a small booboo that you ignored like a dumbass and it became a big booboo.”

“Booboo?”

“Yeah, a big ol’ puss pocket. Geez.” Sam caught sight of Bucky’s sheets. “Serious, Bucky? There’s blood and puss on the sheets! How do you miss that?”

Bucky shook his head, “It wasn’t there before—promise!” Bucky pulled himself up from the bed for the first time to take a look, which was a huge mistake on Bucky’s part. His head swam and nausea overwhelmed him. “Sam?” he gulped.

Sam was either a mind reader or really observant, didn’t matter which, because a garbage pail was thrust into Bucky’s hands in the nick of time. Thank goodness he didn’t have much to bring up.

Holy shit, did he feel awful.

“FRIDAY, please alert med bay that we need assistance transporting a pain in the ass.” Sam called up to the ceiling.

A pause and then, “Request relayed and confirmed. ETA on medical personnel and wheelchair is three minutes.”

At that, Bucky started moving, trying to get up out of the bed. “Nope,” was all he said before he was making an effort to stand up. The key word there was effort. He did get his feet on the ground, made his way up onto his feet, only to drop straight to the floor.

Sam rushed around the bed to him, “Bucky, c’mon, let’s get you off the floor.” He reached out to help steady him.

Bucky pulled away, trying to crawl from him.

“Bucky, what the hell...”

“Not going,” was all Bucky could utter before he stopped and laid himself down on the floor. “M’not sick. Don’t need to go.”

Sam looked at Bucky, then called out again. “FRIDAY, please ask the medic to wait on entering. I’ll tell him when to come in.”

“Message relayed, Dr. Banner confirms that he will wait for an invitation to enter Sergeant Barnes’ quarters.”

Sam gave a slow whistle at that. “You brought the Big Guy out of his lab. Nice.”

Bucky glared at him, “Jus’ go, Sam. Drop off the drugs and I’ll take ‘em,” Bucky promised as he settled, using his discarded blanket as a makeshift pillow.

“So you admit you’re sick?”

“Back off, Sam,” Bucky just wanted to sleep.

It took Sam no time to call him out. “Damn. You’re scared of doctors, aren’t you?”

Bucky closed his eyes and ignored him.

“Look, this’ll be nothing.” Sam tried to smooth over his concerns. “If you listen to the doctor, I’d bet you’ll be sleeping in your own bed by tomorrow night.

Bucky shook his head, ‘no.’

“Bucky,” Sam got down low on the floor with him. “Bud, you’re looking really bad. I bet if you asked real nice, they’d give you something so you’d sleep through the worst of it.”

THAT seemed to be what pushed Bucky over the edge because, even with his exhaustion and nausea, he was crab crawling back into a corner of the room with his eyes squeezed shut.

And then realization dawned on Sam. “Bucky, when’s the last time you were seen by a doctor?”

He opened his eyes, just a little, and answered, “Wakanda.”

Sam smiled. “They’ve got a pretty nice set up there, don’t they?”

Bucky hesitated to answer and then nodded ‘yes.’

“And I’d bet you had Shuri with you a lot of the time, huh?” When Bucky didn’t respond, Sam continued. “If she isn’t the opposite of every doctor I’ve ever been in contact with, I don’t know what is...”

Bucky still didn’t speak.

“And she helped you get better, after... everything, right? ”

“Yes.”

“So tell me why you’re not okay with seeing a doctor now? You’re obviously sick.”

Bucky closed his eyes again. It was getting harder to focus but he had to tell someone. “They only worked on the... the programming.” He pushed out as he tapped at his temple. “I was still asleep, recovering from the cryostasis when they did this.” He gestured to his arm. “So I didn’t have to deal with all of the...”

“All of the doctors?” Sam filled in.

“Yeah. But I knew Shuri was there so...”

“Hey, can I come sit beside you?” Sam asked.

Bucky nodded and Sam repositioned himself on Bucky’s right, trying to keep from hurting him anymore.

They sat quiet for a minute, maybe two, when Sam spoke up again. “So this is probably more of a HYDRA thing than a doctor thing, huh?”

Bucky dropped his head back to rest against the wall. “Aren’t they both the same?”

“Not really, if you think about it... I mean what was the worst thing about HYDRA?” Sam asked... and then thought on what he said, “I mean, all of it is shit, but what scared you the most?”

Bucky turned to look at Sam, “Is this Therapist Sam now?”

Sam gave Bucky a light cuff across his right arm. “Don’t be a jerk, just answer.”

Bucky thought on it for a solid minute, his fear honing his focus. “I think it’s that I’m alone. Always—and then they were poking and stabbing... no matter how much I...” Bucky stopped that train of thought. “Which was why Shuri was a gift. She promised she’d stay, even if I was unconscious, and she did. ” Bucky smiled sadly at the memories.

Sam wasn’t up to speed on all of Bucky’s experiences in Wakanda, but he knew enough, and hoped he wasn’t stepping out of line, “Hey, I know I’m not Shuri, but I can sure as hell sit my ass in a chair and keep you company... if you want?”

Bucky sat quietly, contemplating. “You wouldn’t be able to leave at all, though. I can’t ask you to do that?”

“You’re not asking, partner, I’m offering.”

Bucky shifted a little and then, “You really wouldn’t leave?”

Sam nudged Bucky’s good shoulder, “I won’t leave—except to piss... and we have to stop at my quarters on the way to the med bay so I can grab a deck of cards and that stack of reports we’re supposed to be working on. But yeah, I won’t leave, not at all.”

Bucky seemed to sag and the looked sheepish as he confessed, “Sam, I don’t know if I can get off the floor.”

Sam stood up, then looked toward the door. “Bucky, the Hulk is on the other side of that door. If you think for one second I’m gonna mess up my back picking you up...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky responded. “Go and get Dr. Banner. I feel like shit.”

@febuwhump

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2021 #fanfiction #hiding injuries #little booboos becoming big booboos

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the-colony-roleplay · 5 years

Photo

It’s not snowed in a few weeks time, but the cold has kept a somewhat patchwork blanket of white about the grounds of Colony 22. And maybe it’s an illusion, a trick of the mind, but before it happens, an eerie quiet seems to settle over the Colony. Then, by midday on January 26th, the air grows charged and dark clouds drape heavy and low over the steel-grey breakers offshore. It’s as though you can see it coming—like a ripple traveling in reverse, approaching the little island of Belvedere in increasingly tighter circles.

By 4pm, gales rattle through the stalls of the Hub, leaning on wooden frames and making them tilt and shudder. Sheets of icy rain pelt down, soaking any unfortunate victims to the bone in a matter of minutes. As things get worse, Trade Merchants fly out and face the elements to desperately try to tie down and protect their supplies and weather proof what they can. As one by one they drag themselves back into the safety of the Colony’s stone stronghold, they track dirty puddles through the entrance hall and pray for a little grace—they’re going to be in for a rough night; either way, there will be no salvaging everything.

Overnight, the rain melts the snow. There’s too much of it, and it dissolves into rivers too quickly—the grounds flood, turning the training rink into a swamp of slush and mud, water crawling through the Hub like biting, bottom feeding hands, soaking and freezing anything in its wake. Down by the docks, ships sway menacingly, sails hastily furled and tied. The sound of ropes and wood creaking and moaning is the music of the night, as Colony citizens shiver under their blankets and try in vain to get some sleep, hoping to wake to smoother skies. Sometime after 1am, a Colony Wide Notice is administered warning citizens to stay indoors until further notice.

They have no such luck. By morning, the storm rages on, breathing unresolved vengeance on those who dared to survive the apocalypse. Over breakfast, another Colony Notice is released, and PDDs beep and blink in tandem announcing the cancellation of all AP training, as well as the hunting and scavenging rotations. Ship crews resign themselves to staying put until the weather clears, and no cargo leaving means there can be none arriving either. Shipments of food and other resources are delayed, and no fishing can take place.

The fresher foods on the Colony menu dwindle, and surprisingly quickly. No one is pleased about eating difficult-to-distinguish mush out of cans, but so far, at least the the power is holding up. After the black out last summer, efforts had been made to secure the back up generators, which seem to be holding up for the time being, whenever the occasional brown-out occurs.

No one is sure how long the storm will last but currently, its energy seems to know no bounds and some are predicting three or four days at least… Though citizens are technically permitted to venture outdoors (strictly within the walls of the Colony) during the day, it’s doubtful anyone would want to. Much of the grounds remains flooded, the weather thunderous and miserable. For everyone’s safety, however, all exterior doors leading to the grounds are secured overnight, and the Hub and Catch 22 are both closed until the storm passes.

HEY TEAM!!

Welcome to another happy day at Colony 22! lol.

So this is more of a plot drop than an event, so you can still start and continue threads from before the storm if you like, (so long as it’s within reason of the current rough timeline of the verse), however, the storm does start on Wednesday, January 26th, that night being the first bad night.

You can assume it goes on at least into the weekend, but please do not plot anything beyond the current timeline of the 4th week of January (Sunday the 30th)! We will announce updates as time passes.

Because this isn’t an event, you don’t need to tag or title accordingly—organize however you like, just try to keep clear for yourself which of your threads start before the storm and which after. If it helps, date your starters :)

If anyone has any questions at all, or even any ideas to throw into the mix to contribute to this plot drop, please do let us know! We know there’s been a lull in plotting so we’re hoping this will help kickstart a few fresh things while we wait for the Games to be a possibility, as well as for the remainder of the Fever State plot! So reach out to people, and try to plot with people or characters you’ve maybe not had the chance to in a while! Let’s shake it up, friends, and spread the love, okay? Okay!

Have fun nerds! Love you all!

xxCol22Mods

#col22admin #col22plotdrop #literate rp #original rp #apocalypse rp

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aerinmelina · 5 years

Text

Sick Day

Fablehaven Ship Fest 2019: Kendra & Seth Day

I hope you all enjoy my contribution. :) This hasn’t been betaed, it’s like midnight or something and I’ve been running on little sleep all week, so just keep that in mind.

I intended in this for Kendra and Seth to be older teens. Still kids, but older. Dragonwatch probably doesn’t exist here, so there aren’t any spoilers for anything.

Also, sorry for the gratuitous Gargoyles involvement. I couldn’t help myself. #aerinmisageek

---

Today marked day three of their stupidly intense head cold and, quite frankly, Kendra and Seth were absolutely sick of it. Pun intended. Thankfully, “Doctor Tanu” had examined them the day beforehand and had given them some wonderfully magical cough syrup which had knocked them flat and helped them to sleep the entire night for the first time in a couple of days. Now if they could just fully breathe out of their noses and get rid of the energy-sapping sinus pressure headaches they both had, that would be great.

Cabin fever was really starting to kick in with Seth. Kendra was also starting to desire to leave the house, but she wasn’t as exceedingly bored and antsy as Seth. Thank heaven they had managed to finally convince Grandpa Sorenson to set up a wireless internet router in the house a few weeks ago; otherwise, Kendra might have been in just as dire straits as her brother. She and Seth were currently snuggled up in a mound of blankets and pillows, occupying the floor of the living room at Fablehaven. They each had a box of tissues next to them, and a small trash bin sat between them.

Seth gazed disinterestedly at the television set in front of him as he switched through the channels, pausing for a few seconds on each one to figure out what was going on before moving on to the next. Eventually he gave up and turned the television off, then tossed the remote control away from him and laid down flat on his back with a huff of exasperation. Unfortunately, his nose plugged up in that position and he launched into a coughing fit. He rolled onto his side and ultimately sat back upright in order to get his breathing back under control. Clutching at his chest, he stated with great emphasis, “I hate this.”

Kendra patted him on the back and asked, her voice clearly reflecting her congestion, “Are you ok?”

Seth punched a pillow next to him. “No! I’m tired of this! This is stupid!”

“I know,” Kendra agreed, switched from patting his back to rubbing his arm in a gesture of comfort, then sneezed. She reached for her box of tissues and blew her nose, threw the used tissue into their little garbage bin, and leaned heavily against Seth’s arm. “I feel like crap.”

Seth scoffed and scooted backward so that he could lean against the couch while sitting up. Kendra grabbed her tablet and followed him; he wrapped an arm around her as she moved closer to him. “Wanna watch random YouTube videos?” she asked as she snuggled into his side.

Her brother gave a noncommittal shrug and mumbled something incoherent, but didn’t protest as she selected the YouTube app and started looking through the various videos on the screen with only mild interest. She paused after a minute, however, when she happened to see a clip from a cartoon series she and Seth had watched when they were much younger. Looking up at her brother, she found that he wasn’t paying attention so she poked him in the side. “Hey. Seth. Remember this show?”

He grumbled about being poked – seriously, he was so grumpy when he was sick – but looked at the tablet she held and narrowed his eyes. “Gargoyles?”

Kendra smiled. “Did we ever catch how the series ended?”

“I don’t remember much about it. Besides them being stone by day and warriors by night,” he said, trying to imitate the voice of the narrator (who also happened to be one of the main characters in the series). The effort sent him into another coughing fit and he shied away from Kendra while he hacked. Kendra patted his back with one hand again, and searched for full episodes of the show with her other hand.

Her eyes widened when she realized what she’d stumbled upon. “Seth, they have the entire series here. Every episode. In full!” she said, clearly starting to get excited.

“Whatever,” he responded once he stopped coughing again.

“Do you want to watch it with me?”

“Whatever.”

Kendra pursed her lips at his seeming indifference, then just decided to roll with it. He always got like this when he was truly sick (which, thankfully, wasn’t too often), but she knew his frustration wasn’t aimed at her. She selected season 1, episode 1, and snuggled back into her brother’s side again.

Three hours later, they were both laying next to each other on their stomachs with the tablet between them, their heads together as they watched.

“So… is it just me, or does Goliath have a thing for Elisa?” Seth asked.

“He totally has a thing for her,” Kendra responded.

“I don’t remember any of this. How come I don’t remember anything about this show?”

“I was just thinking the same thing. This is way different than how I remembered it.”

“Different in a good way, though.”

“Definitely.”

Kendra reached for her box of tissues again, fumbling around with her left hand, but she didn’t find it in time and so directed her sneeze into her shoulder. She removed her gaze from her tablet and looked to her left in search of the tissues, however when she found it she realized it was empty. “Hey Seth, pass me the Kleenex, will you?” she asked.

Seth glanced to his right and grabbed his box, then handed it to her. She blew her nose again and threw the soiled tissue into their little trash bin, then placed the box above the tablet so that it stayed between them. Right in time for a loud “BANG” to go off in the cartoon. Kendra jerked her head back toward the screen and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Did Elisa just get shot?!” she yelled.

Her brother’s face held a similar expression of shock. “I thought this was supposed to be a kid’s cartoon!” Seth also yelled.

“What just happened?! Why did she get shot?!”

“I don’t know! Go back a little, let’s watch it again! I wasn’t paying attention!”

Kendra hastily grabbed the tablet and went back a couple minutes, then hit play. They watched as Elisa entered her apartment, hung up her coat and gun holster (she was a cop), then picked up her cat and walked away. The scene shifted to the gargoyle Broadway, who dropped by to pay Elisa a visit. She cheerily greeted him and went about cooking in her kitchen. Then they watched as Broadway looked around Elisa’s apartment and found her gun. He was caught up in a pretend game of cowboys and accidentally fired it – straight into Elisa.

Kendra and Seth looked at each other in horror.

“Elisa got shot!”

“I seriously thought this was a kid’s show!”

“Is she gonna be okay!?”

“How could they put something like this into a kid’s cartoon!?”

“Goliath is gonna be pissed!”

“Holycrapholycrapholycrap!”

The noise of the two siblings drew the attention of Warren, who had just wandered indoors. “What are you two going on about?” he asked, poking his head into the living room as Kendra and Seth continued with their rantings.

“We’re watching Gargoyles and one of the main characters is dying!” Kendra shouted. “Not Elisa! She’s the best!”

“Broadway flew her lifeless body to the hospital! He had blood on his hands! Literally!”

“OH SNAP THE WEIRD BUTLER GUY JUST TOLD GOLIATH THAT ELISA IS DYING RIGHT BEFORE HE TURNED TO STONE FOR THE DAY!”

“He’s horrified! Oh no! He can’t save his girlfriend!”

“Holycrapholycrapholycrap!”

Kendra and Seth both erupted into coughing fits, likely brought on by their hysterical ranting.

Warren’s eyes widened as he looked at the siblings like they’d grown additional heads. “Ooookay then, sorry I asked,” he said, retreating into the kitchen.

The Sorenson siblings watched the rest of the episode with baited breath. They watched as Broadway was shown to be crying in fear and horror for his actions. They watched as Goliath broke into Elisa’s hospital room and told her unconscious form to come back to them – “He totally has a thing for her,” Seth interjected while Kendra nodded her head in absolute agreement – and swore vengeance upon her shooter. They watched as Goliath picked up the case Elisa had been working on: an investigation into a local mobster, whom he suspected was her shooter. They watched as Broadway went on a separate mission to destroy all firearms in existence and inevitably wound up becoming part of Goliath’s self-bestowed investigation. They watched as Elisa flat-lined in the hospital and was brought back to life. As Broadway convinced Goliath not to kill the mobster and admitted to shooting Elisa himself. As Elisa forgave Broadway and assumed part of the blame for not being responsible with where she stored her weapon. And then the episode ended.

Kendra reached out and paused the screen, then looked at Seth. He returned her gaze.

“There was a moral to this episode?!” Kendra shouted.

“They turned it into a learning opportunity?!” Seth yelled, looking disgusted.

“We were put through the wringer for a moral episode?!”

“Hey, kids. Don’t play with guns.”

“Hey, adults. Lock your guns away.”

“Elisa died to teach us a lesson?! She’s the best character in the show!”

“Well she was okay at the end of the episode. Kind of.”

“Sure.”

Kendra paused before she continued. “Wait, did you just say that Elisa is your favorite character?”

Seth shrugged. “Sure, I guess. She’s cool.”

“I thought you would’ve liked Goliath. Or Brooklyn.”

“They’re all cool. But Elisa’s a badass woman cop. That makes her like a thousand times cooler.”

“True. And she’s mixed race, too.”

“She’s hot.”

Kendra laughed at that comment.

“What? She is.”

“She’s also a cartoon character.”

“So?”

Kendra continued to laugh and just shook her head. Seth pouted in response. “Do I need to remind you that you had a thing for Superman when we were tiny?”

“He’s dreamy,” Kendra said, sending her voice into a higher pitch and fluttering her eyelids dramatically. The action caused both of them to laugh, which ended with them launching into yet another coughing fit.

“Ready for the next episode?” Seth asked once they’d calmed back down.

“Sure,” Kendra agreed. “But let’s rearrange a little first.” She stood up and grabbed a few more pillows, then brought them back over to where Seth was still laying on the floor and handed him a couple of them. They ultimately switched their positions on the floor so that they were laying on their sides with Kendra’s back against Seth’s chest, pillows everywhere to prop them and the tablet up so they could continue to watch.

“Okay, ready now,” Kendra said, snuggling closer to her brother.

“Awww, look at them, aren’t they just the most adorable things you’ve ever seen?”

Seth and Kendra looked over toward the kitchen and found Warren again, peeking his head around the corner.

“Shut up, Warren,” Seth stated with heavy exasperation in his voice.

“Mr. Grumpy is still feeling, well… grumpy, huh?” Warren asked.

“If you’re not gonna come over here and watch this with us, then go away,” Kendra said, making a shooing gesture with her hand.

“No offense, but you people are really germy right now and I’d prefer to stay back here.”

“Then go away!” both of the siblings shouted.

“Sheesh. It appears I’ve struck a nerve.”

“Warren. Go,” Kendra insisted.

He pantomimed getting shot through his heart and replied, “Ouch, Kendra. I thought I was your favorite.”

Kendra snuggled closer to her brother. “Seth’s my favorite.”

“Why not just throw some lemon juice on my open wound? Go ahead. It’s okay.” Warren raised the back of his hand to his forehead and stuck his nose in the air. “I see how it is.”

“Go away! We’re watching a show!” Seth demanded.

“Okay, Mr. Grumpster,” Warren said, an obviously fake frown crossing his face. Seth shifted his position and grabbed a pillow, then launched it at his cousin’s head. Warren barely caught it before it hit him, then said, “Jeez, you two sure know how to make a guy feel welcome.” He tossed the pillow back to Seth, who put it back in its original position and pressed play on the tablet, then wrapped his free arm around Kendra.

“What if I want in on the snuggle pile?” Warren chimed in.

“You were invited. You said no,” Kendra stated.

“I just don’t want to get sick.”

“Bye, Warren.”

He shook his head and then turned and left the room. There was a moment of silence between the siblings while the opening monologue for the next episode ran, and then Seth spoke up. “Am I really your favorite?”

Kendra moved her head awkwardly so that she could look behind her at her brother. “Of course.”

Seth smiled, then laid back down on one of the pillows. “Just checking. You’re my favorite, too.”

“You’re insane and you do a lot of stupid things, but you’re my brother and I love you.”

“Well you’re uptight and too good for your own good, but you’re my sister and I love you, too.”

Kendra sneezed. Seth laughed, then coughed.

Sick days could be pretty awful. This one, though… this one was turning out to not be quite so bad, after all.

#fhshipfest19 #fablehaven #kendra sorenson #seth sorenson #kendra and seth #aerinm writes #my favorite pair of siblings #gargoyles #dude that show is awesome

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queen-scribbles · 6 years

Text

Since You Came Around

@pillarspromptsweekly #14; Sick Day. This is set not too long after Third Time’s the Charm, but before The Right Call. Title from ‘Better Place’ by Rachel Platten

It was a recipe for disaster and she really should have seen it coming. Most normal (sane) people would have taken one look at the bridge, clearly fallen into disrepair, and thought to themselves, Maybe I should try to cross the fast-moving and icy river somewhere else.

Not Tavi. (But then, when had she ever claimed to be normal?) Tavi who was in a hurry, Tavi who just wanted to (try to) sleep, barely noticed the bridge’s ramshackle state before her boots hit the wood. Today had been shitty, her mood was shitty as a result, and she was only half-listening to her companions’ chatter. So of course, she missed Aloth and Sagani’s muttered concerns about the bridge’s structural integrity. Of course she didn’t hear the wood groan like a dying man under Kana’s feet. Of course she was was oblivious until mildewed and rotting boards snapped and Aloth dropped from behind her before she even had time to react.

Oh, fuck, no, flashed through her mind as Tavi shrugged off her pack and went after him. She’d be damned if she let anyone--especially him--be the one to pay for her stupendous lack of foresight. (And wasn’t it funny how damn quickly Aloth had moved into a category all his own after their talk?)

But she was hitting the water’s surface and Effigysfuckineyes it was cold. It was all Tavi could do not to gasp in a mouthful of water and keep her focus on saving Aloth rather than the cold. Thanks to the near-exhale, she was forced to surface quickly. At least while she was raking hair out of her eyes she caught sight of him. Just out of arm’s reach, of course. Even when she hollered his name and both strained toward contact, their fingers remained inches from touching. Tavi kicked harder, willing herself forward against the drag of her armor (heavy leather rather than chain, but still added weight). She was not going to lose him, not like this, not to what amounted to her own stupidity.

Even as she struggled to catch up, Aloth grabbed something--a branch, discarded fisher’s nets, she could tell--that tore free in his grasp but did slow him a crucial second that allowed their hands to meet. Each gripped the other’s wrist with a strength born of desperation and adrenaline. Now that she’d caught him, Tavi’s attention turned to scanning for a way back to shore, trusting Aloth to watch for hazards in the water.

“Tavi!!” Kana’s shout barely reached her over the roar of the current, but she could see him on the bank, running toward a downstream rocky outcropping. The intent was clear enough without words. Tavi tugged Aloth arm so he’d look at her and then pointed toward Kana. Gods, her feet felt like lead. What she could feel, at least. Aloth nodded understanding, then frowned in concern. That was weird, Tavi thought as they angled toward Kana. He was the one who fell in, the one whose lips were fucking blue with cold.

The swiftness of the current ensured both elves got dunked under at least twice more before Kana--with Pallegina’s help--fished them out. Sagani and Hiravias were waiting with blankets Even if the weather today wasn’t particularly cold, the water had been. Tavi was shaking violently as Hiravias pulled the blanket around her, deliberately tugging it up over her head as well.

“Can’t save the world if you’re buried under six feet of it,” he informed her frankly, and Tavi tried to chuckle.

It came out more like a cough. “Thanks.” She coughed again. (When did she swallow all that water?) “You alright, city slicker?”

“For the most part,” Aloth replied. He looked--and sounded--as cold as she felt.

“And f-for the rest of it?” she prodded, working a hand out from under the blanket. Her fingernails were almost the same blue as his lips.

“Cold. Wet. Nothing that can’t be remedied,” he assured her.

“On that note, I’m gonna start a fire,” Sagani piped up. “Faster we get you two dried out, less risk of you gettin’ sick.”

“I never get sick,” Tavi retorted, drying her face on the blanket as they all trooped away from the river.

x*X*x

She got sick. It started as just a tickle in her throat and mild sniffles. She managed to hide it from almost everyone. And Aloth promised not to rat her out unless it got worse.

Turned out, he didn’t need to. When it got worse (of course it got worse), she sneezed (thrice, and loudly) in the middle of what was supposed to be a stealthy job. They had to fight several bodyguards and one very pissed off--not to mention devious--druid. Hiravias almost lost his other ear, Pallegina did lose a few feathers, and it was only thanks to some very good timing on Kana’s part that they walked away alive and mostly unscathed. Close as they were to Caed Nua, the rest of the party overruled Tavi’s protests that she was fine and they went home.

Secretly, she was more than a little relieved. She was tired, her fingers and toes hadn’t felt warm enough since the river, and her head ached like someone had dropped a building on it. She made sure to voice a few token protests, but between her croaky voice and the lack of vehemence she was pretty sure Sagani and Aloth at the very least weren’t buying it. Still, Sagani followed her to her room, helped Tavi out of her armor, and waited until she was sure the grumbling elf was actually in bed to leave. If she wasn’t so damn tired, Tavi would have complained about Sagani treating her like a child and not fucking trusting her, but she was. So fucking tired. So, instead, she instead, she closed her eyes, pulled the covers up to her chin, and went to sleep.

x*X*x

It was all well and fine until the dreams hit with a vengeance; events of several different lives blending and blurring together like a kaleidoscope. She rocketed from visions of the robed man she’d seen at Cilant Lîs to a runaway slave hiding from the master’s dogs, to someone waiting with murder in their heart, her consciousness never staying long before it flitted to the next in a decidedly disorienting manner. Until it landed behind the eyes of an aumaua clinging to a cliff by her (her? her) fingernails, grip slowly sliding off the muddy rocks.

No, no, no, not heights. Tavi honestly couldn’t tell if the thought belonged to her or the aumaua, which somehow made it worse. She clung to the rock face, feet desperately searching for purchase as pain lanced through her fingers, to no avail. A scream tore its way out of her throat as she lost her grip and plummeted toward the sea below.

x*X*x

“Tavi! Tavi, it’s alright!” Something closed around her wrist, gentle but firm. Still half-asleep, she tried to jerk away. “Tavi, you’re safe!”

That did it, woke her up the rest of the way. She was a feverish, disheveled mess, but she was awake. “Shit...” she muttered under her breath.

“Are you alright?” It was Aloth, of course. Aloth’s voice, Aloth’s hand on her arm that pulled her back to reality, Aloth looking at her with concerned blue eyes.

“..Yeah.” She waited a beat for her breathing to slow and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She looked at him and winced. “Shit, city slicker, did I do that?”

Aloth shook his head as Tavi reached out to brush her fingers over the red welt along his cheekbone. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Normally she would’ve pressed further, but the adrenaline of waking from what was essentially a nightmare was fading, rapidly replaced with the lethargy of illness. So she worried about something else instead. “How long did I sleep?”

“Almost a full day, so far,” Aloth said, returning to his nearby chair. (It was the one from her desk, dragged over to be within arm’s reach of the bed) “If I may, you look like you could use more.”

“I probably could,” she muttered, snuggling back into her nest of blankets and pillows. But that’s not happening anytime soon... “Where’s... everyone?”

He smiled slightly. “Sagani took your list of tasks and less urgent things we were doing for people and divided them up. So we can still get some things accomplished and you don’t feel so bad about being out of commission.”

Tavi snorted, which made her cough. “She knows me so well. And why are you here rather than helping with that?”

Aloth fidgeted with one of his rings and looked out the window. “She asked me if I would be able to focus, and.... I wasn’t able to honestly say yes. So she had Keya go with her and Kana instead.Told me to stay here and not worry too much.”

“From the look of your nails, you haven’t been doin’ well with that last part,” she croaked teasingly, and Aloth reflexively ran his thumb over the chewed-down edges.

“It’s not that easy to change part of someone’s nature,” he said softly.

“Don’t I fucking know it,” Tavi mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “It is kinda nice to have you worryin’ about me, though,” she admitted. “‘Zat why you’re hovering?”

Aloth gave a soft half-laugh as he followed her gaze to the large book and empty teacup sitting on the desk. “You caught me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Aloth, you know this is just a cold, right?”

“I believe the herbalist said it was more of a fever...”

“Same difference,” she waved off his correction as she pushed herself upright to better meet his gaze. “My point is; you’ve seen me survive a fuckin’ broadaxe to the chest, so I’m just a little confused why you’re camp-by-my-fuckin’-bedside worried about a silly little cold-”

“Fever.”

“Whatever.” Tavi raked sweaty hair back from her face. “I know you know I’m gonna be fine, so, much as I appreciate your company--and not havin’ to yell for a servant if I need somethin’--I just... why?” That was the limit of her articulateness with her head aching like it was.

“It’s not... worry.” Aloth didn’t elaborate for a long moment, gaze on his hands as he spun the silver band that encircled his left index finger. Tavi waited him out (what else did she have to do?) until finally, softly, “It was my fault.”

“Bullshit,” she snorted with as much vehemence as she could muster. “How in the copperfucking Hel is it your fault?!”

His shoulders hunched and hands stilled. “You came in after me.”

“Yeah, and you fell in in the fuckin’ first place because I was a shithead idiot who couldn’t take five fuckin’ seconds to check that the bridge was sturdy enough to hold our weight before I started across it. And I’m the one who chose to dive in after you rather than do more like Kana and the others so I didn’t get soaking wet. My being sick is in no way your fault.”

“But-”

“Look, Aloth.” She shifted in the bed until she was close enough to take his hands in hers. “I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life. I’ve come to terms with the worst of it, gotten really good at being stubborn-” she caught the brief twist of his lips into a smirk- “and learned to deal with it as it comes. But now, even with the Awakened soul and the Watcher shit and everything...” she hesitated, bit her lip. “My life’s been better since you came into it. And I.. I don’t want to lose you.” The vulnerability of the words felt strangely good.

Aloth nodded understanding, lightly squeezing her hands. “Keep in mind,” he began quietly, “I could say much the same.”

Tavi tilted her head and giggled. “Did you just Ditto me again, Corfiser?”

“I did, yes,” Aloth confirmed, smile of his own tugging at his lips. “For a woman who claims to be shit with words, you are rather eloquent at times.”

“Blame the cold,” she grinned.

“Fever,” he corrected again.

“Whatever.” She released his hands and lay back down. “It gave me a sudden burst of inspiration or something.”

Aloth helped her pull the blankets back up and get comfortable. “Ah, I see. Illness makes you eloquent.”

She laughed at the gentle teasing. “Somethin’ like that.” She yawned and rolled on her side so she was facing him, sleepily mumbling, “Stay with me?”

He smiled and scooted his chair closer to the bed. “Always.”

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #pillars of eternity #otp: third time's the charm #tavi illani #aloth corfiser

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mypoorfaves · 7 years

Note

Natto here with a request: Congestion, Eating, "Leave me here to die." Sara/Mila, you choose who gets sick.

I’ve been meaning to write a sick!Mila forever so thank you for this request @nnatto!!

I did my best to make this both platonic and romantic Mila and Sala, so it should hopefully be enjoyable for all of my readers, regardless of whether you ship them or not.

～～～

(Sickie’s pov)

Mila stares blankly at the food Sala is offering her.

“Open up,” Sala says, moving the spoon of soup closer.

Mila doesn’t want food. She’s not hungry, and even if she was, it’s not like she could taste her food with how congested she currently is. Her head is pounding from the lack of sleep courtesy of her high fever, chills leaving her shaking like a leaf despite being bundled in layers of blankets. It’s been days that she’s been battling this damn cold, and while Sala’s company is nice, her pity is less so.

Mila pushes away the offer. Sala lets her, although she seems disappointed in her lack of appetite. “I don’t need food. All I need is sleep. Just leave me here to die,” the redhead grumbles with a congested-sounding sniffle. The pressure in her sinuses increases without warning, causing her to moan as she leans back onto the couch so she’s laying down. She squeezes her eyes shut as her hand flies to her throbbing temple. Rubbing it alleviates some of the pain, but not enough. She can still feel her pulse pounding insistently behind her eyes, the agony causing unshed tears to build at the corners.

Mila feels a cool hand grasp her warmer one, the one that isn’t currently rubbing at her head. Her body breaks into shivers again at the cold touch, and the hand gives a comforting squeeze which Mila reciprocates.

“I’ll stay with you while you sleep,” Sala says. Mila’s eyes are closed so she can’t see her caretaker’s face, but she’s sure her soft purple eyes hold nothing but the gentle kindness Mila has come to love.

Sleep is closing in quickly, and Mila can only manage a weak nod and a smile at Sala’s words before she drifts off into unconsciousness.

～～～

(Caretaker’s pov)

“Open up,” Sala requests of the sick girl in front of her.

She sits slouched over on the couch, cheeks burning bright red, blue eyes glossy with fever as she stares blankly at the food being offered.

Mila has hardly eaten anything all day, and Sala knows it. Hell, Mila has barely even pushed herself to leave the couch. She’s been doing nothing but resting; short bouts of sleep that barely last half an hour before she’s woken up again by body-shaking chills. Sala keeps bringing over more blankets, but it doesn’t seems to help. On top of that is the noticeable congestion, and Mila has also been complaining of a headache.

It looks like a lack of appetite can be added to the list of symptoms, as Mila pushes Sala’s hand away, rejecting the food.

While Sala does want Mila to eat to give her body energy to fight off the infection, she would rather not force her to eat if she truly isn’t feeling up to it.

“I don’t need food. All I need is sleep. Just leave me here to die,” Mila bemoans then sniffles, sounding miserable and congested.

Sala watches helplessly as Mila’s headache comes back with a vengeance. Mila moans, hands migrating to her aching skull as she eases herself so she’s laying down. Her fingers rub small circles at her temple, eyes squeezed shut to try and ride out the pain. It may just be her imagination, but Sala sees what looks like tears forming at the edges of her eyes.

She takes Mila’s hot hand in hers, not missing the chilled tremor that runs through her body as she does so. Sala squeezes her hand gently, an apology and also a reassurance that she’s here. Mila squeezes back, and Sala decides to say it in words, too. Just to make sure Mila knows.

“I’ll stay with you while you sleep,” she promises. Mila’s eyes are still closed, but the tension that was creasing her features is lessening as the pain begins to subside. Sala gets a weak nod and a smile in response before Mila surrenders to sleep once more.

～～～

This was written for the two pov’s drabble challenge which can be found here!

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miiikaelson · 7 years

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What's Dishonored about? It seems so cool,,,,,

alright, i got on my computer to talk about the absolute best game in existence, okay!

first:: tl;dr: dishonored is where you play the role of the royal protector, a royal position that is far more important than bodyguard. you are the first foriegn born to have the position, and when the empress is murdered and her daughter is taken… they place the blame on you. for six months you are tortured, but you refuse to admit to a crime you did not commit, and your empress had you promise to rescue and protect her daughter. less than a day before your execution a group of loyalists help you make your mistake, and against all odds– you do escape. when night comes and you have joined the conspiracy to find your daughter and place her back on the throne, you awake in a magical but horrifying place: the void, and are given the mark of the personfication/ deity of said void: the outsider. in return, he will watch your choices for he is always curious about how those with power may abuse it.

dishonored takes place in this real cool Capitol of Gristol/seat of the empire city: dunwall which is,, 10/10 not a good place. the empress tries her best, but the other powerful figures in her empires are kind of assholes.

her,, royal spymaster is a figure that rubs you the wrong way from the moment you meet him, and the high overseer, head of this fucking terrible cult that serves as the empire’s primary religion (their goal: eradicate all hints of the Void and the Outsider– the deity/current personification of the void; he does not fit as a benevelont or malicious god; he isn’t even a trickster god– he… is barely god. he isn’t satan. he is just there, and very curious as to how humans (especially those gifted with extreme power (like… his mark == magic OR symbols of power (bonecharms + runes)) will use it. he thinks they will abuse the power))

anyway, there is also this terrible plague transfered by rats, but y'all can’t tell the difference between a plague rat and a normal rat without being a scientist. what happens is that they transger the plague which leads to a fever and then bleeding from the eyes and then the victim becomes a weeper: the fever makes them delerious, potentially violent, and really fucking sick. HOWEVER IT CAN BE PREVENTED BY CONSUMING ELIXERS– which the poor people can’t afford unless bootleg, and the corrupt watch will try to steal anyhaps– the poor are dying, ok? being erradicted because they cna’t afford the preventive measure, and people have yet to find a cure– BUT THERE IS A CHANCE FOR A CURE, so these folks aren’t fucking zombies. you can, however, kill them or whatever becausse there is no guarantee the cure is found.)

oh, and in addition to poor people haven’t a bad lot of life, the rich people are as extravvagant as the french rich folks before the revolution– like OFF WITH THEIR HEADS, but,, they get to keep their heads, and they are generally bratty.

SO the empire is a mess, and dear empress jess is trying her best and she sends her royal protector (a royal position where she carefully chooses someone who serves as more than a bodyguard) to petition her other isles for help. they decide not to help her, though, and while yoyu are gone a COUP is planned, but you come back two days early!

jess is murdered, and her daughter (lady emily– jess does not have a royal consort, but i guess this doesn’t matter, but also (eye emoji) she does)) is kidnapped by the whalers (and their leader: daud. the whalers are supernatural assassins empowered by… the outsider, go figure.)

and you!! unable to prevent her death have the crime pinned on you– corvo attano (you) are tortured in prison for 6 months, and the loyalists (a group of people who want to find emily and put her on the throne since the royal spymaster took over as lord regent and he is a bad ruler ok) help you escape a day before youtr execution,, and– … when you sleep for the first time in your new bed after agreeing to help the loyalists since you promised jess yuou would find and protect emily… you wake in the void, and are given the mark of the outsider.

and… the rest of the game is you straddling the thin line between redeeming yourself, fair vengeance, and fucking revenge/ chaos. you need to find emily, take down the people behind your empress’s death, and redeem urself so emily can take the throne.

FEATURING: the outsider: a too serious dude who is obviously just trying to impress Corvo Attano who he loves, but please do not ship them because… (google his backstory) it’s creepy even if he is immortal/ aged 4k years or since he became the deity.

FEATURING: corvo attano! you!! rat dad!! will you take the high chaos route and slaughter everyone? will you spare your targets?? (and is sparing them more cruel then death?) WILL YOU SAVE EMILY AND REGAIN YOUR HONOR? (also why does everyone think you may be emily’s father. why is that a rumor (eye emoji))

FEATURING: SAMUEL who boats you around to missions, and if you disappoint him you will feel like hell. love him.

FEATURING: EMILY! maybe. if you rescue her. my lil’ daughter who i love a lot. she draws nice pictures, and is ten, and likes to go on adventures.

FEATURING: CECILIA. amaze. she has to be like 15, seriously, she has to be a teenager, she likes pranks and has a crush on one of the other loyalists and no one treats her right but she is pure and i will love her forever.

#xxx dishonored #xxx re:babbles!

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