#been a while since ive been able to just. draw. and not feel blocked or like something has gone horribly wrong

[snickersnackety]

got a little inspired by @deeum's art style :,)

[carmenpeach]

not sure im gonna b able to finish my comic chapter by end of month like i want considering its halfway over (was visiting ppl for a week so very busy and only drew a little but got a little more figured out for it) and i still need to script out the last 4 or 5 pages. usually the scenes in it are only a page or 2 but trying to have a longer scene/ convo in it without it being too compressed or taking too long plus finding what all jokes i need to fit into it too. like the meat is all there but the small chunks need to be filled in, plus the task of drawing a full 8 or 10 pages and i gotta pack all my shit again to move again but i dont wanna keep delaying my comic like i always do, and having a bit of art block last like 2ish weeks and think i should do the requests i got from deviantart and here done to break into that. and wanna finish up some ceramic stuff since it might be a while until i get to do that again. but think im making it more daunting than it needs to be when its like i just gotta sit down and draw the damnt thing. no jdea how im always so busy despite not really doing anything a lot. i can only imagine what i would get done if i had adderall. im a little torn on how i want it to end since theres what i want but it doesnt fit the story thats been crafted and i feel there is really only one way for it to go and i am very excited to share it. ive made a sideblog where i wanted to catalogue what everything is in reference to since like 90% of it is in jokes between my friends and i really do loce sharing funny things 2 the world

[xuune]

Hi! I've been following you for a while (don't really remember why or when) and I love your art! I just wanted to ask:

What's your favorite and least favorite part of animation?

oh cool! thanks for sticking around for so long :) honestly, if you've been following me for some time now it might've been either bc of my fanart, oc art, or both haha

thats a big question which prompts for a big answer so here's me rambling about it below B)

when asking fave/least fave things abt animation, its hard to answer without getting in depth on a variety of things LOL. animation, as a medium and field, is very nuanced with its own concentrations so its kind of a disservice to not recognize those areas esp when the skills u learn have a lot of overlap on how it improves other areas of study

i had practice in some 2D/3D ani, storyboarding, visdev, 3D modelling. here's my general experience with all of those:

2D

fave: figuring out how movement is created, rough animation stage, analyzing and figuring out timing/spacing, esp love the fact that you are creating motion, not pretty illustrations to gawk at, seeing the entire ani come together at the end feels very rewarding

least: cleanup and colors lol, feels very time consuming. if im gonna spend time making lines clean, id rather do that with an illustration piece

3D (in maya)

fave: can rely on the program to do the heavy lifting while you do the keys and adjustments, doing 3d actually enhanced my understanding of how the body moves in motion and space and where drag, follow thru, overshoot could be applied in both 2d/3d

least: i dont get to draw :( majority of my experience in the adjustment process is looking at a mass nebula of graphs and figuring out where i fucked up or smoothing out areas and fixing it. prefer 2d since i can just redraw what looks wrong vs scavenging thru multiple graphs. also modelling the key poses can feel like it takes forever vs drawing it

storyboarding

fave: creating strong, key story beats, keeping drawings rough when possible, shorthanding drawings, researching reference for shot compositions + studying them

least: can be very hard figuring out how to fill in the gaps between certain beats, easy to become uninspired/uncertain abt a sequence drawn

visdev

fave: seeing the final piece come together, figuring out composition, blocking in values/shapes, character design, research phase/looking for references and creating moodboards

least: i hate doing backgrounds lol. complexity affects how much i'll end up dreading it. personally not a fan of working on pieces for very long. im also not a fan of constantly doing paintings/bgs as a job

3d modelling (in maya)

fave: painting the model and texturing it, uv mapping and arranging it

least: the modelling part. fuck up 1 part and you fuck up the rest, you'd have to restart from square 1 or be lucky enough that you had a previous save before the fuck up. a proper process matters a lot in saving yourself the pain and headache from fixing everything (i redid a model that i worked on for 3 wks 4 times bc of my fuck ups)

overall, as a field of study

fave: its fun getting surrounded by others who can talk the same language as you do. ive always wanted to be around people who can get as hyped up and excited over discussing and analyzing story and animation, since i didnt have that with some of my other friends or family members. i've also been able to build proficiency in variety of programs too, which is useful. working in a team project is fun if you've got the right kind of ppl and that makes the experience fun when you the project finished. i've worked on various short films for rough animation, and i always love seeing the final film/composited shot and going "i worked on that part!! look at how nice it turned out with the rest of it! whoever did the [cleans/colors/compositing] did so good!!" i think my biggest satisfaction in this field is understanding the why and how something works (i.e. why/how does this animation effectively sell its movement? what makes these boards convey strong story moments? what about this composition is so appealing? why does this story beat matter to the rest of it? why do i/what makes me care about these characters?) it can easily deter people, but this field's a huge time commitment and youre constantly evolving your own craft. it doesnt come easy to everyone, but when you start seeing your own mileage, it feels very rewarding and pays off

least: industry's hard to get into lol, its kinda like that no matter where you go and once youre graduated, the time you spend in limbo is primarily working on your portfolio and catering to studios you wanna get into. its also easy to get the impression that being a "somebody" and maintaining a reputation matters to just increase your chances and connections of getting a job. that shits hard to deal with when youre not the most extroverted person on the planet, and even if your classmates do know you, are you gonna be the one that they end up talking about constantly or regarded highly a lot? names spread within circles, and it can feel like a competition to just get yourself known. its very easy to beat yourself up over seeing other people's work too. we're desperate, we're starving, we want our work to be acknowledged and validated, we want a job that satisfies our creative needs.

this field is incredibly demanding and its more than just having fun and drawing pretty pictures when much of it is a collaborative effort for a project. the disciplines you learn will majority of the time, without a doubt, will be applied for a larger team. at the same time, what you learn has overlap into other areas too which is always fun when you have this moment of "holy shit, i get it now"

[srk8t]

Not a question but I just want you to know that every single time I open this app I always check your blog to see if you've posted any new mapledragon cause you are so CREATIVE!! And your ideas are sososososoos COOL?! Silly?! Mischievous!? Nefarious!? /pos,,,

I want to tell you something too about your art block; I suggest you try do it unconsciously, like doodling while your teacher is explaining a boring speech, and whenever your bored, just put yourself on autopilot and draw on paper, draw eyes, random poses, characters in fits or redesigns & etc. Don’t work for the image in your mind and just let the lines do it for you.

Lastly : I hope that you get better soon with your problems, don’t go to harsh on yourself as your the only person who’s you, everyone makes mistakes; I probably made one right now in this text,,, and Everytime I see your art I print it and eat it.

That’s all!! Sorry if I’m using the ask feature wrong I didn’t know where else to put this!!

DUDE... oh my gosh i haven't been on Tumblr for weeks but you don't know how much your words mean to me!! like, really! i was feeling so depressed and down a few weeks ago but ive been doing better since school has reopened once more! Thank you so much for your encouragement and support, and I really hope I can continue to make wonderful creations for everyone and I hope, it will bring joy, happiness, and inspiration to everyone. and hearing it from you... ahh... it makes me feel so happy! i admit there were a few times i felt unsatisfied with my work, but... you are one of the people that proved otherwise. Again, i have no idea who you are, but i wish you a successful and fulfilling life, and have a wonderful year throughout all of it! Thank you so much, really! and i didn't even know other people actually enjoy mapledragon because the nature of the ship too aidhsihdjdhf!!!! I'll try to do more of them after ramadan! I'm going to get busy with exams too, so please do expect an absence of the two for this whole year... But nevertheless, I will try as much as I'm able to!

Once again anon, THANK YOU so much, from the bottom of my heart. I will kiss you on the lips (if you are comfortable with it) and offer you a virtual hug :D And, take care of yourself as well! I wish you the best of luck in whatever you're trying to achieve and just know that im rooting for you!!!!!!!

+ and op, regarding your last sentence, i am ABSOLUTELY writing this down in my journal and read it whenever i feel down <333

[the-rxven-king]

for the artist ask may i ask 8, 10, and 15? thank you!

8. What do you like most about your own work? 

thats!!! a tough question since ive been in a bit of a slump about it recently but!!!

i think??? my lines are getting better? like im still working on finding a balance between thicknesses and stuff that looks nice but im starting to find ways to add small details that actually looks nice with the way i draw atm!!!

im hoping that one day i can make that work with color since thats where i struggle most artistically i feel

10. What’s that one thing that inspired you to make drawing your consistent hobby? 

i really got into art back in high school. i remember drawing a lot before then, i was in the gifted arts programs back in elementary and middle school, but in high school i was drawing almost daily. it was a form of escapism for me, really? like i needed it to keep my creativity and moral up during long, hard, boring days. and it made me happy

now a days, ive been in a really big art block, but every once in a while i draw something nice and it makes me happy. the joy of it is really what gets me coming back to it. it nice to be able to create my own visuals for the pictures i see so clearly in my mind, and i just need to get better about actually doing it these days.

15. Biggest artist pet peeve? 

woof ok thats a hard one..... idk if i even have one? theres art styles and such that im not the biggest fan of sure but it all depends on the specific style of the artist im looking at, or the specific piece im seeing what bothers me most? theres nothing even really overarching that i could place. maybe an answer to this will hit me later but truly i cannot think of anything atm

[echoalyssa]

Phantom | Dick Grayson

Authors Note: There’s some light language in this, but thats about all!

“Phantom to Nightwing, entering dead zone now. Start the clock and come in if I’m late. I love you.”

You now had an hour inside the base, unable to contact anyone. You were collecting intel and because you were the stealthiest and smallest, (Damian was too young for this particular mission) Bruce had sent you in.

Your boyfriend, Dick Grayson had wanted to come with you but Bruce had rejected the idea because two people was more risky than one.

Dick had been livid, it was more risky for your life for you to go alone. He was your partner even though you were all a team. Ever since childhood, the two of you fought together and somewhat seemed to share the same mind.

You push a vine our of your dace. Your black masks shows the digital map of the quietest places to step. Your hood is pulled up to disguise your features and skin tone that obviously didn't fit in with the darkness of the air around you.

You had left your mottled cloak behind, opting to only have to worry about your body and where you place it. 

Joker was extremely active underground lately, he’d evolved and Bruce had only your mission as a lead. 

Your mask displays your one hour timer on the left hand side of your vision. Fifty minutes to get into the compound and back to safety.

The compound comes into view, a flat stone building that just didn’t fit in with the forest that surrounded it. You creep forward, staying in the shadows and hugging the walls of the building until you reach the only vent.

The stone was practically flat but years of training allowed you to look your gloved fingers into a crevice and wedge a booted foot into the building.

You begin climbing, scaling upwards twenty feet. The screws of the vent are all different and you have to pull away from the wall, your body straining so you can unscrew the bottom two.

You’re small enough that you can pry the vent open enough that you can squeeze yourself in. Forty minutes your clock reads. You were going too slow. You crawl forward on your elbows, you trek forward, you should have asked for two hours. Shit.

You hit the record button on your wrist panel and pull the microphone out.

It’s a tiny one but the quality is amazing. You’re peering through a small vent above a research lab now and you thread the microphone and it’s wire through the vent. The audio feeds into your ear piece and also saves to the hard drive in your panel.

You’re holding your breath, only breathing when you have to to minimize any chance of getting caught.

“We need to move in now! He’s only getting more recruits and it’s only a matter of time before they find us again.” Says a voice.

“If they haven’t already! I say we try the new weapon on some unsuspecting crowd of bystanders now. Then they’ll be too busy trying to save those silly citizens to deal with us.”

“Yes but is it ready..?”

“It needs to be tested again and we need to find a more powerful energy source eventually.”

And then the joker walks into view of the vent. He’s holding a blueprint and he spreads it on one of the tables. It’s the paint schematic for the weapon because of course, the joker being the joker meant that everything needed to be green, purple, and white.

You raise a hand to your mask and tap twice. It takes a screenshot of your view of the blueprint and sends it to the bat hard drive.

“Did you have any luck with batons inner circle? Would anyone snitch?”

“A couple...” the speaker listens. It’s valuable intel and now Bruce would be able to feed false information to the rats.

You begin to tap their names away into the panel and then attempt to wirelessly hack into the mainframes. The firewall were strong and plentiful but eventually they all fall victim to you. Sixteen minutes your timer reads. Shit. The data downloading from their computers and into your drive is only halfway done.

It won’t be very detailed. Just minuscule bits of information because you couldn't connect physically to the computers. It’s a line of script here and there that didn't make much sense to you because you weren't super tech-y. Though every line counted and that you knew. Several addresses also pop up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, your panel signals that the download is complete. Seven minutes reads the timer. Double shit.

You scramble backwards knowing that you’ve done all that you can. Somehow managing to turn yourself around in the small space. You’re almost at the vent when you foot clangs against the side of the vent.

You freeze, no alarms go off, but then again why would they? The timer is still ticking and you continue on, sliding out of the vent. You fumble with the screws, attempting to get them back in in case your cover hadn't already been blown. You then plant your feet, push off and flip down to the ground. You land nimbly in a rolling crouch and then pop to your feet and take off, sprinting for the tree line.

They come from the shadows. Dozens of them. All focused in on you.

You suck in a breath and draw your longswords.

“Bring it on Goonies!” You call and they surge forward all at once. Some with guns, electric batons, and swords.

You stalk forward, meeting them in the middle. You begin slashing immediately at arms, legs, torsos, anywhere that wasn’t too lethal. You weren't a killer.

Except there were just so many, the sword in your left hand falls from your grip and you pull out a disc, throwing it into the incomers. It explodes, blinding some and wounding others. 

You yank s taser out from your belt and stab it into an attackers neck while blocking an attack with your sword. And then it happens. A baton smacks into the back of your head and you stumble forward, dizzy. A blade slashes your thigh, splitting skin and muscle. A cry comes fro, your lips and you lash out desperately with your one remaining longsword. You're able to down the foe who had slashed you.

Two more take his place and then a dagger rips through your abdomen from behind. You scream, falling to your knees. Just as it gets put through your thigh, followed by your shoulder. You land in the grass face first and the world goes dark, sound fading out.

‘Dick.’ Is your last thought.

~~~

Dick is staring at the timer that is displayed by his make. 00:00:05. 00:00:04. 00:00:03. 00:00:02. 00:00:01. And the dreaded number... 00:00:00. It blares red and he stares at the forest, fists clenched. Where was she?

Tim steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder. “Give her five minutes okay? She’s smart. You know how these missions sometimes go overtime. She’s got this.”

“We never should have sent her in alone. It was too risky. Damn it!”

His fist rockets into a tree. He considers going after Bruce, giving him a piece of his mind. Then decides that it isn’t worth it and begins to prepare to go in after his love.

He makes sure to grab the miniature cauterizer and some other emergency medical supplies, stuffing them into the pouches on his belt.

“Wait, Nightwing, we’ll go together. We need a plan!” Damian calls.

His heart is pounding out of his chest and he can’t breathe. ‘What if he was too late? What if she was already gone?’

He doesn’t want to wait for a plan, time was ticking. He pushes past his adoptive brother.

“Dick wait!” Jason calls trying to grab his arm. But he keeps going, breaking for the trees to find her.

Jason and Tim look at each other, then they both look at Damian. “Stay here.” They say simultaneously/

“No way!” He yells back at his brothers.

The three of them take them off after Nightwing. And Bruce, having watched all his children run into danger, follows them in.

Nightwing is pushing through vines and branches, not caring if he makes noise or not. He knows the rest of his family will follow him, but quietly.

His mail enhances his vision in the darkness. He draws a thumb over his own panel and it activates the heat censor on his mask. Dick Grayson pushes forward quickly, scanning frantically for her heat signature.

And then he sees it. She’s always run cold. Her fingers and limbs always frozen. A small prone figure, running colder than the other surrounding bodies. He kicks up his pace, heading for her because he just knows.

“Phantom!” he yells, followed by, “Robin! I think I found her!”

He skids to a halt and falls to his knees, he can see the stab wounds. The way her blood has soared into the ground beneath her. 

Nightwing rolls her over, jamming his fingers under her neck to find a pulse. It’s there. But weak.

He rips the cauterizer out of his belt and drapes her body over him just as Jason appears. 

“Is she..?”

“Alive.” He grunts, “Not for much longer I need to..”

Jason helps him rip the uniform away enough so Dick has enough room to maneuver.

“Hold her down!”

Jason does as he’s told and Dick places the cauterizer to her skin.

“Only do what you have to, we need to get out of here. And soon.”

He pushes the two flaps of skin together and places the sparking tool to it. The heat melds the skin together. She’d need to be pumped full of antibiotics in case any of the blades were dirty and risked infection.

She only stirs slightly, too disoriented from her loss of blood. He talks to her the whole time he works on her.

He only does her abdomen, knowing that it’s her most serious injury. It might not even hold from the jolting and jostling that would occur in the journey back. Dick stabs a painkiller into her thigh, just in case she were to awaken.

He motions to Tim and Damian, who had been standing guard, to take up the rear. Grayson then scoops up his girlfriend, cradling her to his chest.

“Jason. Take point. Let’s get her home.”

~~~

He sits by her bedside. His hands are covered in her dry blood, along with his suit. He hadn’t bothered to change.

Y/N had needed a blood transfusion and he had offered immediately, hence why there was a needle in his arm funneling blood into girlfriend. Alfred had stitched do her wounds and hooked her up to an IV for hydration and anti-infection purposes.

She’d been changed out of her uniform after she was stable for cleanliness reasons and was now wearing one of his black shirts.

He’s holding her hand, his thumb tracing over the pulse point of her wrist occasionally.

It would be a long road to recovery for her though they all knew that she would bounce back and attempt to get back in to the field as soon as she could walk.

It’s days later when she finally wakes, her eyelids fluttering.

“Dick.” She whispers.

He’s right there, just like he had been, he’d only left briefly to shower but he ate and slept at her side. Jason had covered both of your patrols, with Bruce helping out.

“I’m okay. You’re okay, babygirl.” He places a hand on her face and she leans her head into his touch.

[alderaani]

more than gold

summary:  A lost Jedi Temple, a riddle, some literature, and feelings that Cody isn't ready to speak out loud. | AO3

note: written for @codywanweek and the alt day 5 prompt Sith/Jedi Artefact Shenanigans! sliding in on the last day with one more thing written than expected, so i’m happy with that! i’m pretty ill today so i hope it actually makes some coherent sense 😂 also if the riddle was super obvious, soz, never written one before and turns out it’s really hard.

-

“You know, I could have sworn I told you not to touch that,” Cody says conversationally, from where he’s splayed out on his back.

“Really? I’m sure I didn’t hear you,” Obi-Wan says, cheerful despite being crumpled in a heap. His elbow is in Cody’s gut. Cody glares at him.

The room they’re lying in is circular, stone, carved out of some Forced-damned mountain and according to Obi-wan, practically thrumming with power. The ceiling is high and vaulted, letting in slivers of light where intricate mirror systems catch the sunlight of double suns and project it deep underground. It takes on a slightly blue cast, reflecting off the huge pool of water they were lucky to not fall into. Four walkways at each cardinal point lead to a central platform, and interspersed between them are four waterfalls.

It should be serene. Except now the waterfalls are travelling backwards, and all the doors, including the one they came in by, are blocked. Cody scrambles up onto his elbows, dislodging Obi-Wan with a grunt.

“What did you do?”

Obi-Wan follows his gaze and gasps, delighted. “Now, will you look at that?”

Cody is looking. Frankly, he doesn’t trust this place enough to not keep his eye on it at all times. Obi-Wan keeps saying that this temple was built long ago, by ancient, peaceful Jedi as a place of learning, and that it won’t hurt them. After they got cut off from the rest of their men at the entrance, however, Cody thinks he could be forgiven for having his doubts.

As Obi-Wan himself proves, peace-keeping hardly rules out danger.

“Amazing,” Obi-Wan breathes, hoisting himself to his feet without a second glance, to walk back up to the plinth and stalk round it, examining the incomprehensible runes engraved there.

Cody is left to peel himself off the floor, and instead goes to prod at the barriers now sealing the exits with the end of his blaster. He tries not to look too much at Obi-Wan, at the soft sweep of his hair and the span of his shoulders. Being on their own like this is something he’s avoided, of late - not because he doesn’t enjoy it, but because he’s starting to enjoy it all too much.

He doesn’t trust the way his heart leaps when Obi-Wan smiles, when he asks him to call him ‘Obi-Wan’, when the cycle draws on and they’re up late again, companionably finishing reports and debating strategy. Or, as they had been doing until Cody got cold feet and started finding excuses, debating novels, which Obi-Wan checked out of the Temple archives and read aloud, one chapter at a time, before they turned in for the night.

He doesn’t trust himself not to ruin this by overstepping. There’s something about his general that makes him lose all control of his tongue, and puts him in danger of voicing thoughts that really he should not be having at all.

It’s agony. It’s bliss. It’s stretching him to breaking point, and this is possibly the worst situation they could have ended up in, really.

“These are made out of water,” he says over his shoulder, grunting as he tries to push his blaster through. He is, of course, unsuccessful.

“Ingenious,” Obi-Wan says. “How did they manage that, I wonder?”

Cody cuts a glance back at him, and grins, despite his exasperation.

“You’re not more worried about how we’re going to get out?”

Obi-Wan waves a hand. “I’m sure the path will reveal itself, in time. Oh, look - Cody, I think this is a puzzle!”

Cody bites back a groan. They do not have time for this. They never really had time for it, but Obi-Wan promised it would be a brief detour on their way to the capital for hyperspace lane access negotiations. He’d looked so excited by recon reports of a lost temple that Cody just hadn’t been able to say no. He’s never able to say no to Obi-Wan, even when he isn’t following orders. It’s probably his fatal flaw.

“I don’t suppose there’s an off switch? A back button?” He asks hopelessly. The Force, at least the Jedi sort, very rarely seems to work that way. Obi-Wan is always talking about moving through problems, about seeking balance and adapting to what’s around you, rather than manipulating it. It’s not Cody’s favoured approach; he was trained to leverage his environment to its maximum advantage, and finds he has little patience for anything else.

Obi-Wan snorts. “This is a defensive mechanism, I’m afraid. Judging by the architecture this was built at the height of the Sith Wars. This artefact is designed to trap us here until we understand the mechanism and progress, or until, back when the temple was occupied, someone would come and deal with the intruder.”

“That doesn’t sound very peaceful,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan shoots him an amused look, the warm, soft kind that makes heat rise from the pit of Cody’s belly right up to his ears.

“Even a pacifist may defend himself,” he says, then leans over the pedestal. “Now, how about you stop grousing and come help me with this?”

Cody rolls his eyes, but goes, slinging his blaster across his back and crossing his arms.

“And stop looming,” Obi-Wan laughs, catching one of Cody’s gloved hands and pulling it down to rest at his side. The simple touch makes Cody’s cheeks burn.

“Don’t see what help I can give you, Sir,” he says, frowning down at the characters surrounding the bright blue artefact. “I was never any good at Ithorian.”

Obi-Wan pauses, then tilts his head up. “Ah. Is that what it is?”

“I - I think so?” Cody was never any good at his language flashtraining; he never had the proper patience for it, but he can usually figure out the basics.

“No, no,” Obi-Wan muses, stroking at his beard with his free hand. “You’re quite right. Goodness me, it's been a long time since I last saw this dialect. Let’s see now…”

Cody steps back and waits, keeping his attention firmly split between their blocked exit points while Obi-Wan ponders. The slow upward movement of the waterfalls is eerie - it still makes noise, but none of it is right. Instead of the gentle patter he expects of water joining a larger pool, there’s a faint gurgling as they move further into each grate, travelling somewhere he cannot see.

Obi-Wan finishes his fifth circle round the platform, and the hand at his chin goes still. Cody stands at attention, expectant.

“It’s a riddle,” Obi-Wan says, and if possible, his delight grows. “Yes - the language is coming back to me now. Do you know, I haven’t looked at Ithorian in maybe 12 years?”

“Sir?” Cody says, tilting his head to look at the characters more closely. He doesn’t have even a passing proficiency at modern Ithorian, and presumably it’s changed a bit over the millennia. His training was focused on the basics, and only the useful bits, at that. He thinks he can make out the words for ‘ water ’, and ‘ enemy’ , both of which are either unhelpfully descriptive or frankly discouraging, but that’s about the extent of it.

“My old master - he loved prophecies. When I was a teenager I could never see the point of it, but it meant I spent a lot of time learning the old Ithorian dialects. They’re known as the most peaceful species, did you know?” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “They’ll exile anyone violent, it’s quite remarkable, really. I suppose in some sort of idealistic emulation, a lot of the early Jedi texts are written in their dialect.”

His blue eyes are keen, his laser sharp focus firmly on the podium. It gives Cody a moment to observe his clever fingers, the long line of his neck, the open delight with which he tackles this new problem. It’s a rare thing, to see him so relaxed, and Cody can’t help the fond smile that creeps up on him despite the circumstances. This almost makes it worth it, and on reflection, he’d rather an ancient temple than the last thing that had made Obi-Wan so happy; a wretched, bioluminescent fungus, which had infected half the battalion and given them hives. Their general had studied it for weeks.

Obi-Wan’s lips quirk up. Cody barely trusts himself to speak.

“I didn’t know, Sir,” Cody croaks, then pauses, fishing for something normal to say. “Didn’t we have to defend the governor’s daughter from an Ithorian bounty hunter on Ganaris-IV?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan grins. “Those exiles have to go somewhere, don’t they?”

Cody huffs a laugh and reaches up to scratch his neck at the seam of his bucket.

“Let’s just hope they didn’t all come here. What’s this riddle, then?”

Obi-Wan shifts to the side, then points at a spot on the podium. “As I said, it’s been a long time, but I think it starts here, and goes something like:

A thing to be forged, where water is thicker,

Worth more than gold, unless it’s pyrite that glitters.

An enemy of my enemy, or in hard times, in need,

Sometimes fair-weather, or in high places indeed.

What are you, traveller? ”

All of Cody’s hopes that it would be something nice and obvious, like “lightsaber” or, given what’s going on around them, “gravity”, escape from him like smoke. Jedi and their metaphors. It’s not just a quirk of Obi-Wan’s, clearly.

“Does that mean anything to you, Sir?” he asks, turning the words over in his head once, twice, then frowning when nothing comes immediately.

Obi-Wan’s brow is also furrowed, but in a leisurely, meditative manner.

“...I have some ideas, I think,” he says. “How about you, my friend?”

What does he think? He thinks that there are other sorts of puzzles he is much better suited to. Word play and idioms...what does a clone have to offer that?

Still, Obi-Wan is watching him, expectant and gentle, and he sifts back through the lines, a little more seriously this time.

“Ice, maybe?”

Obi-Wan nods, slowly. “Perhaps. Walk me through it.”

Cody swallows. “Ice is something that can be made, right? It’s not exactly forged, but…”

He trails off in uncertainty.

“Go on,” Obi-Wan says with another one of those soft, devastating smiles. It fractures all the thoughts in Cody’s head, and he has to stop, clear his throat and gather up all the pieces.

“I suppose...it’s just thicker water, isn’t it? On warm planets it’s a valuable commodity, it’s found in high places, and I suppose if you wanted snow, a freeze would be fair weather.”

Obi-Wan is rubbing his beard again, and he’s still smiling. “Fascinating. I would never have thought of that...only, I don’t think it’s quite there. That mention of pyrite is troublesome, and the ‘enemy of my enemy’, where does that fit in?”

Cody shrugs his shoulders, frustrated, and feels a hot flush creep up his neck. “Don’t know why you’re asking me, to be honest, Sir. Kamino hardly covered poetry.”

There’s a slight pause, then Obi-Wan’s hand is on his again, tugging it slowly down from where he’s crossed his arms.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he says, soft.

“Do what?” Cody’s voice is gruff.

“Dismiss yourself. You do it sometimes when we’re reading together. There is often no right and wrong answer to these things, no secret. There is only perspective, and you see things I never would, if only you would trust yourself.”

Cody looks down and away, back towards the waterfalls and their slow, glacial climb. He isn’t sure that’s true. He enjoys what Obi-Wan shares with him, what other lives he gets to touch in their books, but more than anything they convince him that, beyond war, he knows very little of anything at all. He would like to, someday.

His eyes land on Obi-Wan’s lips briefly, before he tears them away. Particular experiences he would like to know more than others.

There was one book that Obi-Wan had read early on, back when this infatuation was just setting its first tendrils into him, about a forbidden romance at the heart of the old Mandalorian court. Two heirs of rival clans battling to be together against the good approval of their noble relatives. It had been torrid, ridiculous and entirely unexpected when Obi-Wan had suggested they break up their reports with some literature.

But what it had done was give him the words to express the crawling heat in his stomach, the urge he has to reach out, to touch, to soothe, to care for. He’d known what he wanted before that, of course, in a more rudimentary manner, but it had gifted him the language of yearning.

Suddenly, a particular passage springs into his mind and he straightens.

“You don’t think it could mean ally, do you? In Beneath the Armour, Mata threatens Clan Riza by saying he has ‘allies in high places’.”

Obi-Wan pauses, and then a brilliant smile spreads over his face. “Yes, that’s it! Pyrite - Fool’s Gold; a false friend! Brilliant Cody, whatever made you think of that?”

Cody grins, even though Obi-Wan can’t see it, and doesn’t answer.

“Is that really it?”

“I think you’re very close,” Obi-Wan says. “The characters engraved into the platform...yes! Stand close to me, Commander.”

Cody does, watching curiously as Obi-Wan lifts his hands, shuts his eyes, frowns, and pushes . Six blocks that make up the platform lift, the characters on each glowing bright, lurid blue. Under their feet, something scrapes, shifts and clunks, before the platform lurches upwards, spinning gently.

There’s a thunderous gurgling sound, before all of the pool beneath drains away.

“The answer,” Obi-Wan says, slightly breathless, his hair a little out of place. “Was friend.”

“The doorways are still blocked,” Cody notes drily. The plinth with the blue orb that started this whole mess has also risen, and underneath it are a set of very wet, slimy looking steps. “I don’t suppose it’s as simple as just walking down these and getting in?”

“Likely not,” Obi-Wan agrees, then inexplicably shifts a little closer, so that they are sharing space. Cody’s heart skips a beat. “But it’s like I told you, Cody. You are far greater than what you have been given.”

Cody coughs and looks at his feet, at their boots almost toe to toe, pleasure at the praise singing low through his body.

“Now,” Obi-Wan says, too close and not close enough. “How do you feel about another puzzle?”

Cody groans, laughing, and after a moment, follows his General into the dark.

[antiloreolympus]

12 Anti LO Asks

1. its victim blaming of hades to tell minthe its HER fault she "couldnt get over him". like? you lied to her! youre the one who blurred the lines to date her! you were just as toxic to her if not more so by controlling where she lives and her job, all while never defending her to your cruel family! you had all the power over her while she had nothing! you dumped her for a 19 year old and dont care she crippled minthe! i wont excuse minthe's actions, but hades is ultimately the worse of the two IMO

2. you know why fans claimed "Minthe should've reacted better"? since the first episode Rachel has been drilling into their heads Minthe is an irredeemable monster, and her not bending over backwards to H/P means she deserves the absolute worst. Minthe reacting how anyone logically would doesn't matter when LO is designed to coddle H/P, and anyone against them must suffer for it, even if the victim to H/P's actions. they never wanted her to be "redeemed", they want her head on a silver platter.

3. i know this is not what she intended bc the only characterization rachel has of hxp is "the best over everything" but uh, does she know having hades control all the petroleum and gasses and whatever else is actively destroying the planet, right? like hes helping the very thing persephone draws her power from and what she's connected to be destroyed to appease hes need for wealth and power. its kinda gross hes being romanticized while he commits horrible acts like this for his bank account.

4. its not impossible to go opposite in their original myth personalities and still have it work. like in hades game, sisyphus is one of the most likable characters, achilles is gentle and kind, ares is calm and rational, etc, but it makes sense within the context of the story. LO in comparison goes "all these loving mothers are evil because i said so! this beloved god is now evil because i said so! minthe is evil because i said so!" and that's about it in terms of logic to these wild changes.

5. I can kinda get behind anon's theory about the flower nymphs looking like P to help her be undetected, the problem is there are also unrelated women in comic who are bright pink and look just like her, with hades even confusing them for her! if i had to bet the only reason they look like that is because rachel just wanted daphne to look like her to hammer home apollo is "obsessed" with P and to fake them as her "real family" over demeter. also just laziness in designing characters in general.

6. its weird hades and persephone are well aware what they're doing is bad even openly admitting it and yet the narrative is so hellbent on excusing their bad actions?? like hades being the major toxic factor in his relationship to minthe, persephone killing people, or hades wanting to bone an eternal 19 year old? like rachel you know thats not how character growth works, right? you cant show they have horrible flaws and leave them to never grow and learn from it, that's not good writing at all.

7. what i also dont get is the hierarchy makes no sense? like zeus is framed as the top god, but that would mean hades cant be the most important man ever so rachel also made him equal rank with zeus (and i guess poseidon too) so?? how does zeus have all that power over them then if theyre all equal? is it because zeus swallowed metis?  also how are the fertility goddess so powerful and rare yet so easily taken down? how are they overpowered and super weak at the same time? i just dont get it.

8. Re reading chapter 144 and other anon is right we do see the pomegranate pin on Hades outfit (so Hades gifts it to her)

But also some things to note

During the makeout session persy begins to disappear in butterfly form and hades is like "no don't leave!" And he grabs her, preventing her from leaving. Which is..kinda Ick considering they were on their way to having (public) sex and he doesn't want her to leave which seems like he's not really respecting her boundaries? (because if she does he'll "be lonely")

The pomegranate pin is Hades' to begin with so technically one of Persephones symbols is not hers (yes I know in the original myth she ate it in the underworld / was forced to eat it but still its supposed to be her symbol)

Hades notes that he "doesn't want to overstep his boundaries as host" because Persephone is a guest (too late for that)

Persephones main concern (after what a week or 2?) after being raped is when Hades wants to stop her reaction is "dont you want me anymore?"

Girl you aren't even dating ...??

Persy's literal one and only concern is that she thinks if she doesnt sleep with Hades right then or when/if he wants to that "she wont be able to give him what hes used to" ... Which is reinforcing that she went to therapy to get "over being blocked" in regards to having sex

Although Hades does mention that she shouldn't feel like she needs to please him and that a kiss can just be a kiss which would be nice

(And yet his thinking of marrying her amd he's known her for 2, 3 weeks? ... And he says "the beginning of a new relationship is exciting and scary" so hes basically indicating thay their dating at this point, I think?)

And later the nymphs in the store are like "do you wanna be the dominatrix of the bedroom?? Buy this lingerie!" And persy does. So??

Meanwhile Demeter is very worried for her daughter who is busy sitting in Hades lap in a pool. 

9. Can we talk about how anons are making fucking flow charts for the LO Timeline cause it's so ridiculously jumbled?

10. im not even against rushed relationships, ive known actual couples who met and were married all within the same year and it worked out great, the difference though is these were people who had their own lives and previous relationships. the issue with LO is RS designed it so Persephone can NEVER have relationships or a life outside of Hades, and if they did get married offscreen, it's framing their marriage in a toxic and unbalanced light. That's not a romance, it's a disaster waiting to happen.

11. i feel like there's a difference between drawing an interesting hooked/aquiline nose versus whatever the hell RS puts on Hades' face. It honestly looks like he's in between morphing into a bird half the time since it just looks like a beak over an actual facial feature.

12. are there shareholders or a board of advisors or something at underworld corp? because if there is id say they have more than enough reason to kick hades out and strip him of his titles/shares because of all the shit he's caused by being guided by his broken pp over thinking with his head. liking dating TWO employees? and getting one of them phsyically crippled by the other bc he can't be honest with either of them and she's a walking time bomb? he's a walking HR nightmare.

[castexpectopatronum]

Liquid Amber - Part IV [Remus Lupin x Reader Imagine]

Summary: You had been crushing on Remus Lupin for an eternity when you finally decided to ask him out. However, things do not go as planned and you remain wondering just what exactly is going on with this boy.

notes: reupload because the original got deleated

trigger warnings: none

word count: 1.5k

Masterlist

The silvery light of the full moon was shining into the room and the only sounds to be heard were the soft, steady breaths of your dormmates. Your figure, sitting cross-legged on the bed, was throwing a long shadow onto the floor. An open book was lying in your lap, but you didn’t pay any attention to it. Instead, you were staring absent-mindedly out of the window, your mind surprisingly calm despite the knowledge you had now gained.

The full moon was beautiful but cold in the pitch-black night, a distant viewer of this cruel world. Your heart ached at the thought of what Remus must be going through right now, trapped in an eternal cicle of pain and madness he could never escape.

You turned your head and took a brief look at the open page, the detailed drawing and the title stamped in big letters across the top of the page: LYCANTHROPY.

It had taken weeks of research for you to find out about Remus’ affliction, and now that you finally knew, your mind had gone completely blank. You weren’t sure what you had expected but it was certainly not this.

And there were still so many questions left unanswered. Where did he go during the full moon? Where did his friends go? Did Dumbledore know of this? He had to – did that mean he had arranged all of this?

So many questions... And only one person who could answer them.

He was in the Hospital Wing, as you had expected, whiter than the bedsheets he was lying on, and the shadows under his eyes darker than ever before.

He looked like a ghost.

Quietly, you crossed the room until you had reached his bed in the far corner and sat down next to him. He was fast asleep. The thick blanket rose and fell steadily with each of his breaths.

You watched him for a while. Now that you knew what Remus’ problem was, suddenly all these tiny little details that had been so subtle before and seemingly irrelevant now sprang to your eye with obvious meaning. The wrinkles in his face, despite his young age, the pale shadows of scars on his skin, the bandages around his arms, the wounds peaking out from under his shirt... He did look like he had been battling a wolf.

Only now you knew that wasn’t far from the truth.

A part of you expected to feel disgusted at the sight of him. The part of you that knew werewolves were classified as dangereous creatures of the class XXXXX. The part of you that knew there was a Werewolf Capture Unit for a reason. The part of you that knew of all the cruel things Fenrir Greyback had done and was capable of.

But you didn’t. You felt only pity. Pity for the boy who lost himself every month and who would get shut out by every soul if somebody found out.

It was there, as you looked at Remus’ vulnerable self, that you realised what would perhaps be the most important lesson of your life.

None of this was his fault.

You left the Hospital Wing before Remus woke up. It wasn’t the right place to tell him.

For the next few days you carried on as though nothing had changed, but you kept watching Remus from afar, watched as he regained his strength and spirit. And yet you delayed the inevitable confrontation. Every time you saw him, you made up a new excuse – not now, he’s with his friends, not now, I’m meeting up with Mary a few minutes, not now, he is looking so happy – when in reality, you were simply afraid. Afraid of telling him, afraid of his reaction. Afraid of how things would change.

Until one day.

It was in Defence Against the Dark Arts class; Peter had caught the flu, leaving him sick in the Hospital Wing and Remus without a sitting partner. You saw the opportunity and – to your own surprise – seized it.

Muttering a quick excuse to your friend, you swiftly slid onto the empty seat next to Remus. He lifted his head, startled, and gave you a confused look.

In a split second you realised you must be looking extremely desperate and needy to him, but you quickly put on a bright smile before you could drown in your own embarrassement. After all, the reason you were sitting there was not because you were desperate and needy. This was about Remus.

“You won’t mind if I sit here, right?” you asked him, still smiling.

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off before he could.

“Great!” You placed your book, ink and parchment on the table before Remus got the chance to protest.

As the professor at the front began his speech about nonverbal spells, he turned away from you, and the class quickly settled down and fell quiet.

All but you.

You saw the professor talking. Saw his mouth moving, his hands gesturing... But you didn’t hear a single word he said. Not with Remus sitting right next to you, not with the tension growing between the two of you. Not with his hand lying only a few inches next to your own.

Far too quickly you had to get up to push the tables aside and as you got to the practical part of today’s lesson, everybody paired up. James and Sirius, Lily and Marlene... Remus and you.

You found a free space in the middle of all the students and turned to face each other, at least a foot between the two of you.

Remus pulled out his wand from under his robes; his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and adjusted his stance. You smiled weakly at him before mirroring his posture, the tip of your wand pointing towards him.

Although the class had been practicing nonverbal spells for a while now, not everybody was yet able to perform them, you among those who couldn’t.

But Remus could. He could do it perfectly.

When your wand flew out of your hand for the third time this day, Remus lowered his own. He looked like he wanted to say something, but several moments passed before he actually did.

“You’re concentrating too hard,” he said quietly.

You furrowed your eyebrows and gave him a confused look. “You’re supposed to concentrate.”

“Yes, but you’re too ... constipated,” Remus said. “Try to relax. Concentrate less on wanting to block me but more on the actual spell.”

Your mouth opened in a voiceless answer, but the words got stuck in your throat. It had been weeks since Remus had talked to you, and you had forgotten how much you adored the sound of his voice.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

He smiled weakly. “Ready?”

You nodded and raised your wand to chest-height. “Ready.”

Remus flicked his wand – and your own flew out of your hand once more. Remus quickly snatched it out the air before it fell to the ground. Your shoulders slumped down.

“It takes a while,” Remus said.

You shrugged and shook your head. “I just can’t concentrate today.”

A line appeared between Remus’ eyebrows. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly as though he was afraid of the answer.

You locked eyes with him, and the words that had been stuck in your throat were now threatening to burst out.

You came to your senses just in time and quickly bit your tongue and nodded. Remus didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t further inquire.

The rest of the lesson was about as successful as the first few minutes and when the bell rang, you were glad to pack your things together.

Remus was throwing his stuff so fast into his bag that he only took a few seconds before he was slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder and turned to leave the room.

But you were prepared and swiftly slid over to block his way. Remus stopped and pressed his lips together, looking straight at the door behind you. Students were impatiently pushing past you, but you didn’t mind them in the slightest. Your attention was soley focussed on Remus.

“Can we talk?” you asked. “It’s important.”

Remus looked rather constipated; his teeth were clenched and his eyes were fixed at a point directly over your head.

“I... uhm... This isn’t really a good time,” he said hoarsley.

“It’s never a good time, Remus,” you said quietly.

Remus didn’t respond.

You bit your lip and turned your head away from him, smiling sadly to yourself. You hadn’t expected a different reaction, but that hadn’t stopped the hope from bubbling up inside of you.

You let out a quiet sigh and looked back at him. “Meet me here tonight at eight o’clock. I would really appreciate it if you came.”

Finally, Remus looked at you. His brown eyes were darker than usual. Not the shade of liquid amber you loved so dearly, but still so beautiful.

But you didn’t linger around to hear the answer he never gave. Instead, you flashed him one last sad smile and turned around, walking out of the classroom without looking back.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

cuddling

here is my contribution for ace week! im literally squeezing this in at the last possible second (as its 11:32pm on 10/31 as i start this) but better late than never i suppose!!

i dont often talk about my sexuality on this blog, but i do identify as ace and its not something ive ever been overly comfortable with. but seeing the plethora of ace week fics on my dash this past week (mostly by @jaskierswolf, hi, hope you dont mind being tagged) has been so awesome and has made me feel so much more comfortable in myself that i had to write something for this :)

this is some gray romantic/ace geralt with some ace jaskier. warnings for mentions of dubious consent/ not wanting to have sex but doing it anyway. there is no explicit sexual content but it is referenced.

___

Geralt was a Witcher. His entire livelihood consisted of him doing things for humans: killing monsters, bargaining with sorceresses, fighting wars, protecting them from pretty much anything that could hurt their fragile mortal selves. It had been trained into him ever since he was a child. Do what the humans ask of you. It is your job. 

So why would sex be any different?

Humans enjoyed sex. This was something Geralt had come to learn during his time on the path. What was even worse was that some of them especially enjoyed having sex with Witchers. 

Geralt did not enjoy sex. He was not a human, and it was decidedly a human activity. But that did not stop humans from wanting to have sex with him. Some sought him out specifically, wanting to know what it was like to lie with a Witcher for a night. Others insisted on paying him for his monster hunting duties with a round. He never took pleasure in it. Sometimes he would pretend he did. He had gotten quite good at pretending over the years, learning little tricks that humans seemed to like. But the act of it itself made his skin crawl for days on end and he could feel their fingers and lips long after the marks on his skin had faded.

But he worked for humans. He couldn't deny them what they asked of him. 

He assumed Jaskier would be the same. The man was certainly human, so much so that he would flirt with grass if it came down to it (which, admittedly, Geralt had only witnessed once, and Jaskier had been very drunk at the time, but still). But he never tried to bed him, which surprised Geralt. He knew he was good, if the praises of the the people he'd laid with before were any indication Humans generally needed him for a favor and then left him to the wind. Jaskier hadn’t asked him to kill a monster or help him track down an unruly mage, and it had been years at least since they had first crossed paths. The only logical conclusion that Geralt could come to was that Jaskier was waiting for him to bed him and then he would leave, just like everyone else.

The problem was that Geralt had grown quite fond of Jaskier over the years (and his incessant flirting) and while he didn’t want the bard to leave, he also didnt want Jaskier to be miserable following him around anymore. Five years was quite a long time to wait for a round, especially in human years. Resignedly, Geralt told himself that in the next town he would lay with Jaskier and then the whole thing could be over, and they could both move on with their lives. 

He rented a room with one bed, as they often did, despite there being enough coin for one with two. Jaksier hardly noticed, flouncing off to play a few sets for the locals while Geralt went upstairs to prepare. 

He felt the characteristic tightening of his stomach and the shakiness that always came with this particular activity, but he stripped down obediently, even talking the time to rub some of the oils Jaskier liked to much into his hair before laying down on the bed to wait. 

He didn’t have to wait long. “Geralt! You’ll never believe th- whoa, were you expecting someone?” He stood in the doorway awkwardly.

“Just you,” Geralt grunted. They should get this over with. 

“Me? Geralt...did you think I wanted to have sex with you?”

“Well...” Geralt picked at the blanket, feeling foolish for having to explain himself, he thought that humans should understand these things. “Humans always need me for something. And you dont need a monster killed, so I figured....” “Oh dear heart,” Jaskier walked over and sat down on the bed next to him, running his fingers though his hair. “Please do not take this the wrong way, but I do not want to have sex with you.”

“You don’t?” Geralt was shocked. “But...humans....”

“Not all humans like sex Geralt. I certainly don’t. It makes me skin crawl and I feel all weird after. So I don’t do it. I’m still plenty romantic with people, but I dont get into bed with them.” “Hmm.” Jaskier didn’t like sex either? Maybe it wasn't a human thing after all.

“What it Geralt? That was your I’m-Contemplating-Something hum.”

“It...makes my skin crawl too.” He said carefully after a few moments. 

Jaskier’s hand slowed in his hair. “Dear heart,” he began carefully. “Do you like sex?”

Did he? No one had ever asked him what he wanted before. He didnt think he did. It didnt feel pleasant and he usually had to jump in a cold stream after. “No.”

“Then why did you want to do it with me?” “You’re human,” Geralt shrugged. “Humans either want me to kill monsters or want me in their bed. I serve humans, I can’t turn them down. You are a human.” 

"But you dont like sex?”

“No. I’m a Witcher. It’s probably the mutations. But can still get by.” Actually, now that he thought about it, from what he remembered, he’d never been much interested in it before the trials either.

“Geralt,” Jaskier tilted his chin up to look at him and he saw sadness swirling in his eyes. “Not wanting to have sex is not a Witcher thing. Plenty of humans feel the same way too. Admittedly there aren't many of us, I’ve only come across a few in my lifetime, and I think there's a word for it but I can’t remember it right now. Sex does not interest me either, but there are far more other important things in a relationship than just sex.”

Geralt was confused. “But sex is the only thing people ever wanted me for.” 

“And I’m terribly sorry about that, dear heart, but you’re with me now and I will never make you have sex with me. Have you ever- or wait, is there anything else that you dont like?”

Geralt’s head was spinning, and he was still stuck on the part where Jaskier had said that he would never make Geralt have sex with him. For the first time that evening, he felt his hands stop their shaking and something like warmth bloom inside him. “Hmm?”

“Is there anything else you dont like doing? Besides the sex bit I mean.”

Besides sex....Geralt tried to remember what came along with laying with someone. He usually blocked it all out after. “Kissing,” he finally said. “Burns my skin.”

“Alright, we’ll do none of that then.” Jaskier moved from the bed, beginning to take off his doublet and Geralt seized up for a second, afraid that Jaskier was going go back on his word, but then he reached for his nightclothes. “Are you familiar with cuddling?”

“Cuddling?” The word felt unfamiliar in his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Jaskier smiled. “Go put your nightclothes on. I think I have something that you will enjoy far better than that nasty sex business.”

So here it was then, Jasper did need him for a service after all. Geralt got out of bed and slowly pulled on his night clothes, painfully aware this would be their last night together before they parted ways for good, before returning to the bed. 

“Right, so youre just going to lay on your side, yes right like that, and then I lay behind you, see? And I put my arm around you like this, and we snuggle.” Jaskier’s breath tickled his hair.

“What do we do though?” “What do you mean, what do we do?” Despite Jaskier’s words though, he didnt seem angry. “This is it. We hold each other and enjoy each others presence. We can change positions, if you want, like you can take a turn holding me for example or I could lay on your chest, but we just hold each other close. Show each other we care. This is called cuddling.”

“Hmm.” As far as Geralt was concerned, it was far better than sex. But he knew it wouldn't last. This was all Jaskier wanted from him, clearly, which prevented Geralt from thoroughly enjoying it. 

“Where will you go?” he spoke into the silence a few long moments later. 

Jaskier paused drawing light patterns on Geralts forearm. “What do you mean?”

“Tomorrow.” Wasn't it obvious?

“Well I’ll go wherever you’re going. Just like we always have?"

“You...you’re not,” Geralt swallowed thickly. “You’re not leaving?” 

“Leaving?” Jaskier’s voice rose an octave. “Why on the continent would I be leaving?”

“You’ve got what you wanted from me, with this....cuddling business. You have no reason to stay.”

“Oh dear heart.” The next thing he knew he was being flipped around to face Jaskier. Jaskier, who had tears in his eyes that were just barely visible in the low light. Instinctively, he reached up to brush them away. “I’m cuddling with you because I care about you, because I love you. Not because I want something from you.”

“Oh.” Geralt didn’t know what to say. Jaskier loved him? No one had ever loved him before, much less cared about him or wanted him to be comfortable. 

Jaskier placed his hand on Geralt’s chest. “You never have to do anything you dont want to do with me. And if you don’t want to travel with me anymore, I’ll leave. You are your own person, Geralt, even if you are a Witcher. And you make your own decisions. You wouldn't take a contract that you felt unsafe doing, so in the same vein, you dont have to have sex with anyone if you dont want to. You make your own decisions. You dont even have to cuddle with me right now if you want to. You choose what you want to do based on what you’re comfortable doing, do you understand?”

Geralt nodded into the darkness. This was all so much. He hadn't been able to make his decisions in...well ever. And now Jaskier was giving him permission to. “I want you to stay,” he whispered. “I....care about you too.” He didnt say that he thought he could love him, he wasn't ready to say that yet. And according to Jaskier he didnt have to say it if he didnt want to. 

“Good. Now that we've got that sorted, come here,” Jaskier pulled Geralt into his chest, running his fingers through his hair delicately. Geralt closed his eyes, never had he felt more safe in his entire life. Who knew humans could be so gentle?

Just as he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness he whispered, “Jaskier?”

“Hmm?”

Geralt felt a small smile tug at his lips at hearing how own language on Jaskier’s lips. “Can we do more of this...cuddling?”

Jaskier’s laugh sounded through his chest, vibrating pleasantly against Geralt’s ear. “Of course we can, dear heart. Of course.”

___

that turned out way longer than i thought it would and its now 37 minutes late but oh well.

throw me an ask if you wanna be on my tag list!

taglist: @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @barlowarts @eminasan @llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @nonegenderleftpain @electricrituals

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Emergency! Part 3

Summary: A woman comes back from her trip from Asia but isn’t feeling the best. And is rushed to the hospital. Her symptoms are that of the flue, but worse than. The virus spreads throughout the hospital, Jack falls ill collapsing in the break room. Dean falls ill on a rescue, Cas having to rescue the original victim and his partner. The reader, having to sit by and wait and pray for her friends pull through. But turns out the original patient with the virus got better, now her body has the antibodies to fight the virus.

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: Scary Situations, Language, Mild Angst, Fluff.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: I could use the corona virus or COVID-19 but decided to use the virus used in the Emergency! Episode of the same name. The virus being a strain of the Asian flu during a bad outbreak in the late 60’s. Also the drugs and measure mentioned are probably not accurate, I’m not a pharmacist.

a/n2: D.O.N = Director of Nursing, DOA = Dead on Arrival, BP = Blood Pressure, O2 Sat = Oxygen Saturation

~

“Dean,” Cas says, walking into the fire stations garage.

Dean was logging supplies in the squad truck when he heard Cas enter and got his attention.

“What’s up Cas?”

“When you started dating Y/N, when did you know she was the one?”

“What do you mean?”

“I really like Meg, and when she was taking care of me after that accident of mine I found that she and I have a lot in common and I want to know her more?”

“Well, Cas, it’s different for other people. Just ask Meg out. Talk to her, find out stuff about her that she likes, hates, and if you can find yourself still able to love her despite her flaws. Keep it going. Keep taking her out.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Nothing in life is simple man.”

Cas nods in agreement.

The alarm sounded in the station.

“Squad 51, someone sick. Respond. 226 south Jasper’s Avenue, cross street South Walker boulevard.”

“Back at it again.” Cas says.

“Let’s hit it.”

Dean getting into his usual spot in the squad, revving the engine to life and heading to the location.

When they arrived, another station had arrived originally.

Dean and Cas gathered their tools and headed into the residence.

“Chuck, what do you got?” Cas asked.

“Kelly McMeyers, 22, her dad said she was fine at breakfast.”

They followed Fireman Chuck through the house to the girl’s bedroom to find her on her bed, sweating, pale and in obvious discomfort and pain.

Dean placed a hand on her head.

“She’s burning up, Cas, get the thermometer.”

Cas did as told handing the thermometer to Dean.

Dean placed in the girls mouth, under her tongue. Cas handing him the blood pressure cuff.

Dean began checking her Blood pressure.

“Get the radio, we need to tell the hospital.” Dean orders.

Cas, pulls out the radio of it’s holster on his belt.

“Rampart, this is rescue 51. Rampart this is rescue five one.” Cas radios in.

 It was a normal slow day at the hospital, y/n having finished her charting, getting reading for her lunch break.

“Rampart this is rescue 51,” she heard Cas’s voice over the radio.  “Rampart this is rescue Five one.”

She picks up the hand piece to the hospital’s radio to respond.

“Go ahead 51.”

“Rampart we have a female, Kelly McMeyers, 22 years of age.” Cas transmits.

 “BP is 129 over 80, O2 Saturation is…”

Dean places a hand over her chest, watching it rise and fall. Counting in his head. But scolding with the low number he came up with.

“Did you pack the pulse Oximeter?”

“I did.” Cas says, handing it to him.

“I got to double check before I give you the wrong number.”

Dean turned on the device, and placing it on her finger.

“Still reading low, O2 Sat, 85.” Dean says.

“O2 sat is 85. Temperature is coming up…”

Dean pulls out the thermometer.”

“105.” He reads.

“Temperature is 105.”

 y/n was shocked she had a temperature that high.

“51, standby, a doctor will be with you shortly.”

“10-4.”

 “I just don’t understand, she was fine at breakfast, it happened so suddenly.” The girl’s father expressed.

“Some of these things do happen rather quickly.”

“Could be the Asian Flu?” Chuck suggests. Playing with the girl’s pet monkey.

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions until a doctor can see her.” Cas says.

“Kelly, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Dean asks.

The girl nods groggily.

“She’s really drowsy.” Cas mentions.

“Kelly, are you in any pain at all?” Dean asks.

“My head hurts, my chest hurts too.” She whines.

“She threw up a bit before you got here Winchester.” Chuck mentions.

 “51, this is doctor Singer.”

“Rampart, we have new information, patient is experiencing head and chest pain, she’s drowsy and vomited a few times before we arrived.”

“Alright, start IV, lidocaine, two milligrams. And just in case what she has is contagious keep contact with the patient to an absolute minimum.”

“10-4 Rampart.” Cas says.

“I’ll get the IV going, if you want to get the ambulance here Chuck.”

“Already ahead of you, they should be here by now.”

Sirens are heard in the distance, as if on cue.

“How about that timing?” Cas says.

“Alright, she’s set, lets get her to the hospital.” Dean says.

Just as more paramedics came in, Dean grabbed the equipment as Cas walked out with the patient.

Chuck still petting the monkey.

“I love monkeys, bet he’d be a cute pet to have.” He says.

“Yeah, but they’re not meant to be pets Chuck.”

“Yeah, I know. But, cute little guy, isn’t he?”

The monkey sat on his pole that stood in the room. And the monkey started walking over to Dean, walking on his shoulder, messing with his hat.

“Hey, stop,” he told the monkey while trying to shake him off gently.

The monkey got back on his pole as Dean walked out to the squad.

 At the hospital, Y/N, Doctor Singer assisted in the patient, Kelly McMeyer, as Doctor Singer preformed a spinal tap.

Just as he pulled out the needle, gathering spinal fluid, Doctor Kline walks in.

“What’d you got Bobby?”

“Possible strain of the flu, her symptoms are consistent with that of the Asian flu, but the incubation period is too fast. Her symptoms came up quick, she was fine at breakfast.”

“Do we know where she’s been lately?”

“All over southeast Asia, Kelly and her friends were part of her church’s mission trip in assisting kids in orphanages, and adoption homes. Fixing them up, helping kids get adopted. And her dad took her camping when she got back. Took her to the Black Hills in South Dakota.” y/n explained.

“That opens us up to a whole array of fevers, and of course flus. China is always riddled with noval viruses we’ve never seen nor dealt with. And of course, there’s ones we’ve dealt with her, rocky mountain spotted fever, lymes disease, or even parasitic infections. Fungal infections that could have originated from her camping trip.” Jack explained.

“Did Kelly have any kind of protection on either trip?” Jack asked.

“Her dad made sure she packed, bug spray, tick spray, and they had nets around their camp to prevent nats and other flying insects from getting in the tents.” Y/N says.

“So, in which case, we’re back to, what did she catch when she was in China. Because chances of her getting anything on the camping trip are slim I’m guessing.”

“Her dad was pretty adamant that they were covered for their trip. He didn’t want anyone getting sick.”

Jack nods.

“Let’s get some blood work, see if we can’t find the answer in there.”

“You got it doctor.” y/n says, getting her hands sanitized, and ready to draw some blood.

 “Dean, your shift was done an hour ago, go home!” His father ordered.

“Just finishing up the logs for the day.”

“Cas can finish it up for you, he at least goes home in an hour. Now go.”

“Yes sir, you sure you got this man?” Dean asks.

“Dean, I got it. Go home and rest. See you in two days.”

Dean handed Cas the papers for logging their day, what all happened, their end result. He grabbed the keys to his Impala and drove on home.

He could tell he was exhausted. At a stop light he had to really will himself to stay awake just a few more miles.

But as he got to another stop light, he knew he was too tired to be driving.

Y/N’s apartment wasn’t far. He moved lanes before her street came up and Dean drove to her apartment. Giving her a call to make sure she was either up or home.

“Hey Handsome, how was your day?” she asked.

He could hear the background of the hospital.

“Exhausting. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah, another late one. Why? Are you in the area?” she asked. Sounding concerned.

“I’m really exhausted, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it home. I was thinking on crashing at your place.”

“You can stay there Dean; my key is by my hanging plant. I think your clothes from last time are still there.”

“Thanks baby, where would I be without you?”

“Dead in a ditch because you’ve run yourself ragged, now hurry to my place and get to bed. I’ll home when I can.”

“Love you sweetheart.” He says with a tired smile, pulling into her apartment complex.

“Love you more Winchester, sleep well.” She says.

He parked his car near where she parked. Walking up tiredly up to her apartment he found her key easily.

He headed inside, placing the key back but also locking up behind him as he got himself settled.

She had since gotten a new apartment since the plane crash; sure she was farther away from the hospital, but she was closer to him by several blocks.

He had gotten out of the shower, feeling a little bit better, but he climbed into his side in her bed. Pulling the covers over him, and falling fast asleep once his head hit the pillow.

She had hurried with her charting, her replacement nurse coming in late. But at least she showed up.

She hurried to her car to get on home.

She saw Dean’s car parked next to her spot on the street. She parked her car right behind his.

She quietly entered the apartment. Leaving the lights off she navigated to her room seeing his sleeping form in her bed. Sound asleep.

She made her shower quick and simple, washing off the stress of the day and relaxing enough so she could fall easily asleep.

She climbs into bed beside him. He tossed, turning towards her, wrapping his arms around her.

Poor dude was exhausted. But Dean was no fool, he loved being the little spoon. Maybe too much. But when it was her, he didn’t care too much.

 Days followed, and the original patient began to go downhill. Her fever wasn’t breaking.

Y/N had finished getting Kelly’s vitals, updated her chart. She headed back out to the nurses station when she saw an ambulance dropping off a new patient.

“What do we have?” she asked.

“Fireman, Chuck Shirley. Stricken with a fever, 104 temp, slightly elevated BP.” One of the paramedics informed.

“He was fine at lunch time.” His wife said behind the paramedics.

“Are you his wife?” Y/N asked.

“I am, my name’s Becky.”

“Okay, I’ll escort you to the waiting room. I’ll keep you informed of your husbands situation.” y/n told her.

Becky nodded, and she was lead to the waiting room. Y/N walked back into one of the exam rooms.

Hours passed as the doctors looked over Chuck, they learned one thing in common.

He responded to Kelly McMeyers.

“I want everyone who responded to get checked out. Clearly we are up against something contagious.” Jack orders.

“I’ll get right on it.” y/n says.

 As the day wore on, Y/N had called all the stations that responded, the ambulance and even called up her boyfriend personally.

“Afternoon beautiful.” Dean answers.

“Hey babe, you responded on the Kelly McMeyers right?”

“I did, me and Cas both, why?”

“Chuck Shirley is sick with the same symptoms as Kelly, and Dr. Kline has ordered you two to come in and get checked out.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Dean, Chuck looked bad. Come in, please.” She practically whined.

“Okay, I will. Don’t worry sweetheart. I have to come down for supplies anyway, I’ll bring Cas along.”

“Thank you. See you soon.”

Just as Dean and Cas left the hospital after giving their blood samples to be checked for any virus or uprising in white blood cell count. Questions rose to how and where the original patient got sick.

“Whatever this Kelly chick has must be bad.” Dean says as he drove back to the station.

“Must be, if she didn’t get while camping then where?” Cas asks.

For a beat there was a pause.

“The same place where she got her pet monkey.” Cas says.

“You really think that monkey is the carrier?” Dean asks, unsure.

“Think about it Dean. It’s always animals in other countries that carry all these scary viruses. Swine flu came from pigs. Avian flu came from birds. The Asian flu came from, well, Asia but it was ducks. What if, this monkey one of those viruses and was somehow able to transmit it overseas?” Cas explained.

“You should really be a doctor something, damn Cas.” Dean says, impressed with the information Cas was able to share.

“Also think of the movie Outbreak.”

“Dude, that wasn’t even a real virus.”

“No, but it was a real situation that can really happen. It’s the worst case scenario. But it was a monkey carrying a mutated version of the virus.”

“I think you’re onto something Cas.” Dean says, digging around in his pockets.

“Here, call my girlfriend, tell her what you told me.”

“Okay.” Cas says.

 “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Cas, you got a minute?”

“How’s Dean?” she asked concerned right away.

“Oh, he’s fine, we were just talking about the victims. She brought home a pet monkey from China. And Chuck was playing with it.”

“That is actually something Cas, thanks. Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Not really, but just for the fact that this monkey might carry a virus that could kill Kelly and our friend.”

“And you’re spot on, on that. I’ll tell Jack and Bobby. Thanks Cas.”

 At the hospital, the two doctors were at the nurses station when Cas called. Their attention on her when she seemed surprised with the information he given her.

“Cas of squad 51 just told me Kelly brought home a pet monkey from China. And that Chuck played with it.”

“That’s something, Bobby, get someone to go with Kelly’s dad back to his house. Get the monkey and bring the little guy in.”

“You got it Jack.”

 Cas had handed Dean his phone back.

“You know, Cas,” he says.

Cas doesn’t say anything but has his attention.

“I kind of played with the monkey too.”

 The next following day, Kelly was slowly getting better. But Chuck was taking a turn for the worse. His fever wasn’t breaking.

Jack goes into Kelly’s room to talk to her about her monkey.

A nurse was already in the room taking care of her.

“Abaddon why aren’t you wearing your mask?”

“Oh, sorry Doctor its just—”

“No excuses, you’re taking an unnecessary risk. Not only would you be putting your life at risk, you’re putting everyone else���s lives at risk as well.”

With that she put her mask over her mouth and nose.

“Kelly,” Jack says.

She opened her eyes slowly giving the doctor his attention.

“We got your pet down in the lab. Now, was he ever sick when you had him?”

“Yes, just after I bought him. He had a bad cold, and threw up a bit too.”

“Well in order to help the fireman, and you as well, we may have to put him down so we can perform an autopsy.”

“No, you can’t!” she cried. “I don’t know what I’d do without Oreo!”

“Kelly, it’s the only chance we have at saving lives.”

The tears that built up in the girls eyes fell. Jack took his gloved finger by her cheek, brushing away the tears that fell.

“If you’re right about that,” she swallows thickly. “Then you can take Oreo.”

“Could help you too Kelly.” Abaddon says.

“I know.”

Jack gave a sad smile through his mask.

He doffed off his PPE by the door and left her room to give the go ahead.

 “Dean, we have a group of kids from Jefferson Elementary School to come in for a tour, can you help Gabe clean up the garage real quick.”

“Dad, I’m really exhausted, can you get Cas to do it?”

“It’s not like you to complain, come on now. He’s busy with the logs, come on it won’t take long.”

The alarm sounded.

“Never mind.” John says.

“Station 51, medical emergency. At the top of the Wells Fargo bank at 5535 Woodland Boulevard. Cross street Jackson Avenue.”

The men and women at station 51 jumped into action.

 At the location they climbed up the stairs after they reached the max floor the elevator would allow to go.

“What happened?” John asked one of the men working on the roof.

“Jimmy was over the edge cleaning the windows and he let out a yell, and I saw him collapse. I tried getting him on this thing but it’s jammed.”

“We’ll get him, we’ll hoist one of my paramedics down to get a line on him and we’ll bring him up.” John assured.

“I’ll go.” Dean says.

“Why don’t we just swing the lift through a window?” Cas asks.

“There wouldn’t be a safe way to do it. Just, get me down to him. Drop a line for him and he’ll be up here before you can say Bobs your uncle.” Dean says.

“Just be careful man.” Cas says.

“I will dude.”

Dean has the ropes around him, his harness, Gabe, Michael and Raphael anchored his rope as they helped lower him down.

“Okay, more slack!” Dean shouts as he got closer to the victim.

He got safely on to the lift and began to work the rope around the victim so they could lift him up.

But Dean’s vision began to spin. His hands came up to hold the support of the lift.

“Dean, you okay!?” Cas shouts from the ledge.

“Yeah!”

Dean hurries to get the rope around the victim and tries to work on tying the knot.

His dizziness got worse, and worse. Just as he was about to ask for help, Dean passes out.

His body falling off of the lift, and hangs by his harness off of the ledge.

“Try lifting him up a bit!” Cas ordered.

The three brothers tried pulling the rope slightly.

Cas could see Dean wasn’t getting any higher.

“No, stop, he’s tangled. I’m gonna have to head down there.” Cas says.

He heads over to Charlie who handed him some rope, getting the lopes around him, and working his harness on.

Cas hurries over the ledge.

Gabe, Michael, and Raphael tied Dean’s rope to hold him steady as they lowered Cas down to the lift.

“More slack!” Cas ordered as he got closer.  

Cas removed his work gloves to check the victims pulse.

“He’s in full cardiac arrest!” Cas shouts out, communicating.

Cas finishes what Dean had going. Connecting the loops around the victims arms and legs making a makeshift harness.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas calls out.

The victim slowly rising as Gab, Michael and Raphael pulled the rope lifting the victim up.

“Dean, can you hear me man?” Cas asked, trying to lift Dean onto the lift.

He didn’t respond. He was out cold.

Cas furrowed his brow as he grew concerned for his friend.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas ordered.

Cas seen the original victim made it over the ledge safely. And Dean began to slowly rise up to the top.

Once everyone was safely up, they got Cas up as well.

Cas helped with the cardiac victim while Charlie and the others assisted with Dean.

 Y/N sat at the nurses station charting her days work about ready to head home when an ambulance and squad approached the door.

She quickly typed up her report, saving it and sending it to her Director, she went to assist the paramedics.

Her heart dropped when she saw one of the patients being wheeled in.

“Dean.”

“Patient one was DOA, heart attack. Dean has a fever of 104.” Cas says.

“Okay, there’s an exam room open, lets get him in there. I’ll page Dr. Singer.”

“Where’s Jack?” Cas asked.

“He’s sick too. He was about to treat Kelly and Chuck when he collapsed. His fever is 103 and climbing.”

“How is Chuck?”

“Not doing well. Let’s focus on Dean please.” Y/N said, keeping the tears of fear at bay.

 Dean was all settled in a room later that night.

“Y/N.” Bobby says as he entered Dean’s room.

“Dr. Singer.”

“Your director doesn’t want you treating him. It’s against ethics.”

“I know. I’m off the clock.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“Oh, forgive me for staying by my boyfriend’s side.”

“Y/N, you’re D.O.N is on the other side of the this door. Relax.” He whispered.

“Bobby, I can’t think straight right now. I want to stay by his side, if that’s alright.”

“You can’t just stop everything because he’s sick. The CDC got back to us on the virus, you know this. It’s a strain of the Asian flu, a newer mutated strain. We have a drug we can use.”

She sighs, rubbing her face hard, trying to not get frustrated with herself.

“I know. I just want to know he’s going to be okay is all.”

“You love him. I know. But you have to still live life. Because that don’t stop. You got to keep going kid.”

She nods. “I’m guessing I can’t stay with him due to isolation protocol.”

“You got it. but once he’s better, you can.” She nods again.

“Please, keep me in the loop with him.”

“I’m sure Meg will. Cas was already on her case about him.”

She chuckles with a nod.

“Go home and rest. He’ll still be here tomorrow.”

She nods, leaving with a slump in her shoulders. Heading to her car. Driving quietly home.

It wasn’t until she got out of her shower, and laid in her empty bed did she let her walls come crumbling down.

A sob escaped from her, shaking her to her core.

“God, Dean. Please be okay.” She sobbed.

 The next day, she heads into work trying to focus on her patients.

She learned from one of the over night nurses that Chuck passed away.

Her anxiety already being high enough with her boyfriend being sick with the same virus, but the same virus that killed a fireman.

She headed up to Dean’s room where Meg walked out. Sweating after being in her PPE for some period of time.

“How is he?” she asks.

“Not good. His fever is not even breaking. He had the first 100 Milligrams of Idoxuridine.”

“Has it been two hours?”

“Close, it’s been about an hour and fifty minutes since last dose.”

“Give him another dose of it. Same for Jack if he’s not getting better.”

“Sure thing, I’m sure Bobby will understand.”

Y/N nodded as Meg went back inside to give Dean another dose of the drug.

Y/N headed back to the nurses station to chart her first half of the shift when her D.O.N approached the desk.

“Y/N, I was told you were by Dean’s room yet again. This time on the clock.”

“Sorry Jody, I just—”

“It’s okay, really. Bobby can be a hard ass sometimes, and I know I can be too. But my husband gets sick really easily. And I’d do the same thing you’re doing.” She says.

“Thank you…” she hesitates.

“I have your replacement coming in so you can see him and be with him. Once Donna gets here, go to him.”

“Thank you, thank you.” She says, as tears rise to the surface.

“It’s not a problem.” Jody smiles.

 Days pass as the doctors and nursing staff cared for Dean and Jack for the virus.

Y/N stayed day and night, her D.O.N giving her the week off on FMLA.

She had lost track of the days when she finally allowed herself to sleep.

Kelly was fully recovered and the doctors and nursing staff encouraged her to donate some blood so they can use her antibodies in her blood to donate to Dean and Jack so they have a fighting chance.

His fever finally broke, he was getting better. She could close her eyes and he’d still be there.

She woke that night to a hand on her head, playing with her hair.

She stirred awake to find Dean awake and well.

“Hey.” She says tiredly.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He answers. “Babe, did you stay here all day?”

“Dean, it’s been a week. You’ve been out for a week.”

“Damn…but still, you’ve been here all week?”

“Yes. You scared me.” She says. Taking his hand and placing it on her cheek.

His thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Catching a tear that fell.

“Well I’m sorry for scaring you. But you’re worrying me, did you take care of yourself while you were here?”

“Not really. Haven’t been hungry. I’m not sick or anything.”

“I know, you’ve told me that you’ll get this way. Either in a good way, like an innocent way of binging your favorite show and forgot to eat. Or in a bad way, like this.”

“Let me get Meg and tell her you’re awake.”

Just as she says that, Meg comes walking in.

“Jack’s awake…oh Dean’s awake too.” She says.

“Yeah, he is.” Y/N Says tiredly.

“I’ll get Dr. Singer so we can see when you can go home. And get Y/N to a bed, she hasn’t slept much since she stayed here.”

“Really, not eating or sleeping.”

“She was worked up. who could blame her?” Meg asked.

“True.”

Meg left the room to get Bobby.

Dean not saying a word, pulls Y/N’s arm guiding her in the bed with him.

She happily got in, curling into his side.

He felt a residual tremble shudder through her body.

“Shh, I’m here baby. I’m not going anywhere.” He says.

Not even a tiny virus would tear up this team.

~

A/N: Did you enjoy? How are you liking it so far? Favorites yet? Feedback is fuel and much appreciated. :3

~

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69​, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @jayankles​, @jeaniespiehs20​, @mlovesstories​, @akshi8278​, @flamencodiva​, @anotherspnfanfic​, @megzdoodle​, @lyarr24​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/23/2021

[buoyantsaturn]

Riding Bikes Across the Street Without Looking Either Way (2/2)

summary: “Well, you can stay with me and Annabeth as long as you need to, okay? We’ve got a shitty couch with your name on it, and we’ll make sure your dad never finds you.”

word count: 3,955

read on ao3 | read chapter one

Nico hadn’t slept in three days by the time he arrived at Percy’s apartment late at night, around two days after he’d left home. He’d barely stopped along the way, so when Annabeth opened the door for him, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. (At this point, Nico felt like he might as well be one.) 

“Oh my god,” Annabeth said as she grabbed Nico’s shoulder to pull him inside, drawing him straight into a hug. “Neeks, you look like shit. Are you-- Are you bleeding?”

Nico refrained from reaching up to check his head, and looked to the side in an attempt to stop Annabeth from looking too closely, though she took his face in her hands and turned his head back the other way. “I’m fine,” Nico muttered when Annabeth gasped. 

“You are not,” she argued. “You’re going to the hospital.”

“I just drove for two days, I don’t wanna drive anymore,” Nico told her. “Can’t I sleep first?” 

“Oh, you are not driving like this,” Annabeth said as she started further into the apartment. “You probably shouldn’t have driven in the first place! Wait here. Percy just put Luke down for the night, but he’ll take you.” 

Then Annabeth disappeared around the corner, so Nico stood in the doorway with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. He let his eyes fall shut and his head tip forward, and just about fell asleep standing up until his body started to lean, and he startled awake to catch himself. When he opened his eyes, Percy was there with his coat in hand and concern written across his face. 

Nico blinked up at him, and Percy seemed to take that as his invitation to draw Nico in for a hug. Nico flinched back when Percy got too close to the wound on the side of his head, so Percy jumped back like he’d been shocked. “Dude,” Percy whispered, his eyes full of something like pity that made Nico’s stomach turn. Percy pulled on his coat and held out a hand. “Alright, give me your keys.” 

For a second, Nico didn’t move. He wanted to argue, to say he was too tired and that they could just go in the morning, but he didn’t want to get hit again. (Percy wouldn’t hit him, would he?) Nico took the keys out of his pocket and dropped them into Percy’s hand. 

They walked down to the road and got into Nico’s car. It wasn’t until they were a few minutes down the road that Percy tried asking what happened, though Nico wasn’t very willing to share. He hadn’t told Percy much more than things have gotten worse and I’m coming to New York, so he was sure that Percy was more worried for him than he was letting on. Percy’s mind was probably reeling over all the different things that might have happened to leave Nico in such a state, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to say it. 

He let Percy guess, though he never got very specific. Percy had narrowed it down to Hades and drinking, though Nico knew those weren’t hard to figure out. 

When they sat down in the hospital’s waiting room, Percy finally said, “You know you’ll have to tell the doctor what happened, right? I mean, maybe they can help you, like, file a police report or something.” 

Nico was shaking his head before Percy had even finished talking. “I don’t want to file a report,” he insisted. “I don’t… I don’t wanna think about it anymore, and I don’t want him to know where I am.”

“Oh. Right, of course,” Percy said quietly, then wrapped an arm around Nico’s shoulders to bring him into a side-hug. “Well, you can stay with me and Annabeth as long as you need to, okay? We’ve got a shitty couch with your name on it, and we’ll make sure your dad never finds you.”

“Thanks,” Nico whispered, and his head fell onto Percy’s shoulder. “Um, and can you do me a favor?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“When we get back to your place, can you call Seph? Just to let her know I got here safely, but...don’t say where I am. And then delete her number. Maybe block it, too.” 

Percy rubbed his arm. “Yeah, man, I can do that.” 

A moment later, Nico’s name was called, and he tensed. “Will you come back with me?” he asked Percy as he got to his feet, and Percy nodded. A nurse took them into the emergency room and had Nico sit on one of the beds to wait for the doctor.

Another minute or two passed before a man with curly brown hair and a lab coat approached and said, “Hi there, Mr. di Angelo. I’m Doctor Markowitz, and I’ll be taking care of your examination before my supervisor comes over. It says on your form here that you have a head injury, do you want to tell me a little more about that while I take a look?” 

Nico ducked his head and shrugged. Markowitz glanced toward Percy, who said, “He doesn’t want to talk about it.” 

“Okay, noted,” Markowitz said as he pulled on a pair of gloves. He stepped up to Nico’s side and located the wound quickly, carefully brushing away Nico’s hair to get a better look at it. “Can you at least tell me what made the wound?” 

“A glass bottle,” Nico muttered, and averted his gaze when Percy’s eyes widened. 

“Glass?” Markowitz repeated, then took a closer look. “Well, it doesn’t look like there’s any broken pieces in here, so that’s good.” 

“The bottle didn’t break,” Nico replied. “I don’t think.” 

“Must’ve been one heavy-duty bottle to hit you this hard and not break,” Markowitz commented, and Nico suppressed a flinch. “Alright, hang tight for just a minute while I call my supervisor over. I’m thinking you’re going to need a CT scan to rule out a concussion, and possibly an X-ray to make sure your skull is all in one piece. I’ll be right back.” 

As soon as the doctor was out of sight, Percy turned to Nico and asked, “He hit you with a glass bottle?”

Nico folded his arms over his stomach, one hand wrapping around his other arm. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have time to, either, before Percy’s phone started to ring. 

“It’s Annabeth,” he said, “probably just checking in. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

And then Percy was gone, too, and Nico’s hand gripped tighter. He could hear Percy at first, answering the call and saying that they’d already talked to a doctor, but then his voice dropped lower and Nico had to strain to hear it. 

“He’s not acting like himself,” Percy whispered. “It’s like he’s fifteen again, he’s barely even talking to me.” A pause, and then, “Can that happen? Can something like this make him, like, regress, or whatever?” Nico’s fingernails began clawing at his skin. “Oh, the doctor’s coming back. I’ll let you know what’s up as soon as I can.” 

On top of a moderate concussion, Nico had a skull fracture, was severely dehydrated, and had reached the point of exhaustion that the doctors were surprised to still see him upright. Nico declined an IV drip of fluids and something that would help him sleep, insisting that he just wanted to leave, so Percy drove him home with a prescription that basically boiled down to rest. 

Nico passed out on the couch as soon as they were inside, and didn’t wake for almost twenty hours. When he did finally awaken, he got up to find Annabeth in the kitchen making dinner. 

“Hey, Neeks,” she said as she stirred a pot of pasta. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine,” he replied, folding his arms across his stomach and eying the stove. “Can I help?” 

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you be resting?” 

“I just did.” Nico’s nose scrunched up at the idea of sitting on that couch any longer. “I’m rested. So, can I help?” 

“Why don’t you see if you can help Percy with Luke, instead?” 

Nico hesitated. “But I like cooking.” 

“Do you like babies?” 

“I...don’t know.” 

“Well, if you’re going to be staying with us for a little while, then I’d like to know that you’re comfortable around my son,” Annabeth told him. “You never know, I might ask you to babysit. So, go hang out with Luke, and I’ll shout for everyone when this is ready.” 

Nico huffed and said, “Fine,” then turned out of the kitchen. Before he could fully leave, though, he stopped himself and said, “Actually, um. After dinner, do you think you could help me with something?” 

“Maybe,” she replied, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “What is it?” 

“I need to change my phone number.” 

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah, we’ll figure that out.” 

As it turned out, Nico got along with Luke just fine. It was almost easier than hanging out with adults, he realized, because he didn’t feel the need to try to hold a conversation. Luke could only say a handful of words, anyway. Nico spent a good half hour just holding blocks whenever Luke gave them to him. 

As dinner came and went, Nico learned what sorts of things Luke could and couldn’t eat, and then later on watched how to go about putting Luke to sleep at night. Apparently parenting was easier than people made it seem. How had Hades messed up so bad?

When the living room was once again baby-free, Annabeth sat down with Nico to help him figure out how to change his phone number. Percy was laying across the floor for some reason, and had been asking Nico about college in an attempt to get his mind off of running away from home. Unfortunately, that wasn’t really something Nico wanted to talk about, either. 

“So, do you need to, like, transfer to a new school or something?” Percy asked as he tossed one of Luke’s toys into the air above him. “You know, since you can’t go to class.” 

“It’s all online,” Nico replied. He was watching Annabeth work from the opposite end of the couch because the brightness of his phone screen hurt his head. “I talked to somebody at NYU last summer about doing all online classes.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to do that?” Annabeth asked. “You can’t even look at your phone long enough to see who’s texting you.”

“And that doctor said you need to avoid screens for at least a week, didn’t he?” Percy added. 

Nico felt his heart rate rise as his anxiety spiked again. “Well, what day is it?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking as much as his hands were. “Maybe I’ll have time to rest before my classes start.” 

“It’s Wednesday, the…” Percy drew out the last word as he pulled out his phone, “...sixth. When do your classes start?” 

Nico dropped his head into his hands. “Two days ago.” 

“Okay, no big deal,” Annabeth said without raising her eyes from her laptop screen. “Just email your professors to explain the problem, and ask for an extension on anything you missed.” 

“But I won’t be able to do anything for another week, and at that point, I’ll be two weeks behind in, like, half of my classes,” Nico complained, scrubbing his hands over his face and then scraping his hair back from his face. “And then what if I can’t catch up? Maybe I should just take the semester off.”

“Alright, take a breath.” Annabeth reached over and set a hand on Nico’s arm, but he flinched out from under the touch. “I think you should sleep on it. There’s no need to make such an impulsive decision.” 

Nico pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his gaze to the floor. “No. It’s better if I drop the classes now instead of having to withdraw later. I’ll just start up again in the fall.” 

He glanced up again just in time to see Annabeth and Percy sharing a worried look. He grabbed onto his arm and squeezed. 

The apartment was too small for three adults. Maybe if Nico hadn’t had to sleep on the couch, then he would’ve been less of an inconvenience to Percy and Annabeth. He tried to make up for it in other ways. He cooked whenever he could, and he washed the dishes every night. Nico was trusted enough to look after Luke on his own for short periods of time - if Percy needed to run out to the store while Annabeth was in class or at work, usually. 

Still, Nico was in the way. He hadn’t quite assimilated into their home, and he’d heard them whispering late at night when they all should have been asleep that money was tight. 

Things came to a head when Nico finished off a pot of coffee one morning, assuming that the others had gotten their share. He was feeding Luke so that Annabeth could get out the door in time for class when Percy stumbled into the kitchen, half-awake and already grumpy. He grabbed a mug out of the cabinet before reaching for the empty pot and freezing at the sight.

He slammed the pot back into place, and Nico flinched.

“Damn it, Nico, did you drink all the coffee?” Percy snapped.

Nico sunk in his seat, hoping to appear as small as possible. He watched Percy pick up his mug again, and imagined it shattering against his skull. He wound his arms around his stomach and ducked his head. 

“The least you could do is make another pot,” Percy continued. “God.”

“Sorry.” Nico pushed his chair back, the legs screeching against the floor and making him flinch again. “Sorry.” He was up on his feet one second, and then he blinked, and he was in the living room. He could hear his pulse in his ears. His head darted back and forth, but there was nowhere to hide. 

Oh god, why wasn’t there anywhere to hide? 

He couldn’t hide in the bathroom, because Annabeth was in there. He couldn’t hide in either bedroom, because the doors didn’t have locks. 

He went into Luke’s room anyway. Nico figured he would have a better chance at hiding underneath the crib then he would Percy’s bed. And then, when he shut the door behind himself, he saw the window. 

The fire escape.

Nico pulled the curtains loose and climbed out the window before sliding it shut. He heard Percy shouting for him as he sat down on the nearest step. He almost got up and ran down the fire escape just to make sure he wouldn’t get hit. Instead, he stayed perfectly still to ensure that the creaking of the fire escape wouldn’t give him away. 

He only wished he’d brought a jacket.

Nico was blowing on his fingers to keep them warm when the window slid open. He must have already been frozen to the step, or maybe it was the panic that kept him from jumping up and running away. 

“Nico,” Annabeth breathed with a sigh of relief. She held a hand out to him. “What the hell are you doing out here? Get inside, it’s freezing!” 

Nico hesitated. “Is...Percy gone?” 

Annabeth frowned, waving her hand impatiently. “What are you talking about? Why would he be gone?”

Nico stuffed his hands under his arms and ducked his head. Of course Percy wouldn’t be gone. He lived there. It was Nico that was always going to have to run away.

“Do you need him to be gone?” Annabeth asked gently. 

Nico shrugged. 

Annabeth sighed, and Nico tensed. She sounded annoyed. “Alright, don’t move.” 

Then she shut the window. Maybe she locked it, too, so that Nico wouldn’t be able to get back inside. He would freeze to death out there, and he could finally stop being everybody’s problem. 

The window opened again, and Annabeth poked her head out. “I told him to back off. He won’t come into Luke’s room while we’re in here, so would you please come back inside?” She held her hand out to him again, and this time, Nico took it. Her hand was unnaturally warm, or maybe he had let himself get colder than he thought. 

Nico’s bare feet touched the carpet and he immediately dropped to the floor while Annabeth shut the window behind him. She wrapped him up in a blanket and wound her arms around his shoulders. “Tell me what happened, Nico.” 

“I…” His teeth started chattering. Why was he shivering now that he was back in the warmth? “I drank the last of the coffee. I thought Percy already had some.”

“So your solution was the freeze to death in repentance?” 

“He was mad,” Nico whispered, his arms tightening around his knees. “I thought he was gonna hit me.” 

“Nico,” Annabeth said, her voice stern but not harsh, “you know Percy would never hit you. He loves you.” 

“I thought my dad loved me.” 

Annabeth pressed her forehead to the top of Nico’s head. “Neeks, this isn’t working out.” 

Nico’s next breath caught in his throat, and he felt his eyes sting with the beginnings of tears. 

Annabeth started rubbing his back. “I know we said that you could stay here as long as you need, but… Nico, this place isn’t big enough for all of us, and Percy and I… Our money is spread so thin already that we’re constantly stressed about paying the bills on time, and having you here too… We can’t walk on eggshells in our own home. I’m sorry, Nico. We love you, and we’re not kicking you out, but we need to start looking for another option for you. And maybe a therapist, too.” 

Nico dropped his head onto his knees as his tears started to fall. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m messing everything up. I never should’ve come here, I’m sorry.” 

“No, Nico, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Annabeth assured him. “And I’m glad you came here and got away from your dad. I’m glad you’re safe. And I’m sorry that Percy’s such an ass when he doesn’t get his coffee right away. I should’ve warned you about that.” 

“Not your fault,” Nico muttered.

Annabeth patted his shoulder. “Not yours, either. Are you gonna be okay?” 

Nico hesitated, then nodded. 

“Do you think you’re ready to talk to Percy?” she asked. “I think he’d like to apologize.” 

“Yeah,” Nico said, still nodding. “I’m ready.” 

Annabeth stood, then offered a hand to help Nico to his feet. She led the way out of the room and toward the living room where Percy was sitting on the floor with Luke, and as soon as Percy saw them, he jumped to his feet. 

“Nico!” Percy exclaimed, rushing forward with his arms held out, though he froze when he saw Nico flinch. Percy glanced at Annabeth, his expression wavering and his arms drooping slightly before he asked, “Um, can I hug you?” 

Nico took a step closer and nodded. Percy’s arms closed around him. 

“Dude, you had me so freaked out,” Percy said into Nico’s hair. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you. I’ll try not to do it again, I promise.” 

“Thanks,” Nico replied, shifting subtly until Percy released him. He took a few steps back and held his arms over his stomach again, as if defending a weak point. 

Annabeth set a hand on his shoulder. “I have to leave for class, but are you going to be okay?” 

Nico took a deep breath and met her gaze. “I’ll be okay.” 

“Good. When I get home, we can start looking for a therapist,” she said in a way that let Nico know she also meant if that’s okay with you. “And Percy, when you put Luke down for his nap, you two should start looking for apartments.” 

Annabeth pulled Nico forward and kissed his forehead. She kissed Percy on the lips, then Luke on the top of his head as she grabbed her bag, and then she was gone. 

Nico didn’t move for a few minutes. Percy settled back onto the floor with Luke and eventually turned the TV on for some background noise. Nico edged his way toward the couch and sat down in the corner, curled up with his knees to his chest. 

Percy reached back and tapped on Nico’s shin with his fingers. “Hey, no hard feelings, right?” he asked, his head tipping back to rest on the cushion next to Nico. “I love having you here, dude, and I’ve missed you a lot, but I’m sorry that it’s not working out. Besides, don’t you think it’ll be better to have your own place, anyway?” 

Nico’s arms tightened around his legs. “I don’t...want to live alone. I don’t think I can.” 

“Oh.” Percy’s gaze turned back to Luke. “I guess I always assumed that you were the type to like having your own space. Uh, okay, well, we can…” Percy hummed in thought. “We can look on...Craigslist? To find you a roommate?” He glanced back at Nico, and there must have been something about the look on Nico’s face that made Percy burst into laughter. “Okay, you’re right. Stupid idea.” 

Percy scooped the TV remote up off the floor and tossed it back to Nico. “Go ahead and put on whatever.”

Nico flipped through the channel guide for a few minutes, but ended up sticking with whatever kid’s show was already playing. 

“Maybe you could crash with somebody we already know,” Percy said. “We could talk to Jason or Leo, or-- No, wait, now that I think of it, I think Leo might be crashing on Jason’s couch… Hm. You can’t get a dorm at NYU if you’re not taking classes this semester… Man, the only person I can think of that has a spare room is my mom.” 

Nico felt himself perk up for the first time in days. “Do you think you could ask her?” 

Percy shot him a teasing grin. “You wanna live with my mom?” He looked away before Nico’s expression could fall, and shrugged. “Alright, I’ll call her after lunch. I’m sure she’d love to have you.”

Nico had his first meeting with a therapist the day before moving out of Percy and Annabeth’s apartment. It didn’t take long to pack up his belongings, mainly because he’d hardly taken anything out of his car to begin with. But when he got to Sally’s with the Jackson-Chases not far behind, they unloaded everything from his car to take inside. The guest room was a bit of a tight squeeze with all of Nico’s boxes and suitcases inside, but he had plenty of time to unpack and organize later. 

He came out of the room - his room - to thank Sally and Paul a few more times, but when he stepped into the kitchen, Sally beat him to it. She pulled Nico into a hug, practically squeezing the life out of him as she did so, and kissed the side of his head. “We’re so happy to have you here, Nico,” she whispered to him. “You stay here as long as you need.” 

“It won’t be forever,” Nico promised her after weaseling out of the hug. “I just need to figure some stuff out, and maybe I can try to get a dorm when the fall semester starts, and--” 

Sally took Nico’s face in her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead. “Take all the time you need, honey.” 

Nico felt like he might cry. He forgot what it was like to have a mom.

thanks for reading!

buy me a coffee | more nico birthday event stuff

[theundercovermarvelfan]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 13

Whumtober Challenge @whumptober2020

Day 13 Breathe in, Breath Out Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

“Is everyone out, did everyone make it out?” Steve demanded as he ran up to the jet, desperately taking stock of his team.

Tony, Thor, Bruce, Natasha… 

“Clint!” Natasha gasped as they all seemed to come to realization of who was missing at the same time. 

Steve spun around, feeling the blood drain from his face as he looked at the warehouse, smoke pouring out of every visible window and door. 

“Clint? Clint, can you hear me?” Steve tried over the comms., even though he knew in the pit of his stomach it wouldn’t do any good. There was a long moment of silence over the line, followed by a burst of static. 

And then Steve was running. 

He barely paused as he slammed his shoulder into the nearest door, bursting into the warehouse. He paused, squinting through the smoke. The air clung hot and heavy to his skin, indicating how difficult it would be to breathe if it weren’t for the Super Soldier Serum. 

“Clint?” Steve called as he looked around frantically, but he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him because of smoke that was only getting thicker by the moment. 

He heard him before he saw him. In the end all he had to do was follow the sound of the hacking cough before he finally came across Clint, slumped over on the floor as he had tried to get underneath the smoke that was now pressing almost to the floor. He had ripped off the bottom of his pant leg and was holding it over his nose and mouth, in an attempt to filter some of the air he was breathing, but it was painfully clear the damage had already been done. As Steve dropped to a knee next to him, Clint looked up at him, blinking through bloodshot eyes as he desperately wheezed in one labored breath after another. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I got you,” Steve assured him as he leaned down and ducked under one of Clint’s arms and leveraged him up to his feet. 

Clint thankfully had enough awareness to keep the piece of fabric pressed to his nose and mouth as he stumbled along next to Steve. Steve moved them as quickly as he could back toward the exit, finally bursting back out into the fresh air. They made it a good twenty feet from the burning warehouse before Clint’s legs finally gave out, sending them both toppling to the ground. 

“Clint! Clint, are you okay?” 

Steve looked up to see Natasha running over to them, dropping to her knees next to Clint. He was hunched over with one hand braced on the ground while the other was still pressing the cloth to his face as he coughed and wheezed, every breath sounding horribly painful. 

Suddenly, the load roar of an explosion tore through the air around them. On instinct, Steve threw his arms up and used his body to cover the two more vulnerable teammates, blocking the heat and debris. Once the wave passed, Steve looked over his shoulder to see that half the warehouse had collapsed. More than that… it was the portion where Clint had been stranded just a few minutes ago.

Damnit, that was lucky. 

“The fire must have hit something explosive,” Steve panted as he stared at the wreckage, knowing full well he was pointing out the obvious. 

“Steve, we need to get Clint back to the jet,” Natasha said urgently. “Now!”

Steve turned back quickly, surprised by the panic that laced Natasha’s voice. He looked down at Clint, who was still coughing but didn’t seem any worse off than he had been just a minute ago. Then Steve saw it. Clint had dropped his hand away from his mouth, letting the piece of fabric fall to the ground. It was hard to tell, since the fabric was black, the stains could have just been saliva. But when Steve saw Clint’s hand, it was painfully clear what those stains really were. 

Blood. Clint was coughing up blood. 

“Here, I got him,” Steve said, moving forward. 

It said something that Clint didn’t even have it in him to protest as Steve scooped him up in his arms. Instead, Clint seemed to spasm in on himself as he continued to choke and wheeze desperately for oxygen. 

Steve and Natasha ran back to the Quinjet, finding the rest of the team waiting anxiously for them. 

“Is he alright?” Thor asked. 

“Tony, get the jet powered up, we need a hospital,” Steve ordered, letting the statement answer the question. 

“On it,” Tony said as he ran up the ramp into the jet.

“What’s the situation?” Bruce asked worriedly as they approached. 

“He hasn’t stopped coughing and there’s blood coming up,” Natasha said briskly as they made their way up the ramp, Bruce and Thor falling into step behind them. 

“Okay, put him down over there, but keep him sitting up,” Bruce ordered as he hurried over to the medical supplies. 

Natasha stepped in front of Steve and quickly pushed one of the medical cots over so that it was up against the wall of the jet. Then Steve set Clint down, carefully situating him so that his back was to the wall, though he still remained hunched over and coughing into his hands. For a long moment, Steve could only stare helplessly as it felt like they were watching him slowly suffocate right in front of them. 

“Here, hold this to his face,” Bruce said, shoving an oxygen mask into Steve’s hands. “Don’t put the strap over his head, just hold it, you’ll need to move it when he coughs so the blood doesn’t pool in it.”

Steve folded his leg underneath him as he shifted more fully onto the cot. “Easy, Clint,” Steve said, trying to draw Clint’s attention to him. Clint’s gaze drifted vaguely in his direction. “This is going to help,” He said as he held up the mask while Bruce set the oxygen tank that it was hooked up to to run wide open.

Steve slipped one hand behind Clint’s head to help brace him as he used the other to hold the mask up over Clint’s nose and mouth, an action that Clint was aware enough not to fight as he dropped his shaking, blood stained hands into his lap. Natasha sat on Clint’s other side to keep him from tipping over. Holding the mask was easier said than done since Clint seemed to be coughing more than he was breathing, but Steve quickly found a rhythm. 

“Will he be alright?” Thor asked, shifted uneasily from foot to food nearby. 

“It’s hard to say,” Bruce admitted as he went back to rummaging through medical supplies. “The blood could just be from a relatively minor lesion in his trachea caused by the coughing. Or… it could be coming from his lungs. Which would be really bad. Especially since we’re a decent ways out from a real hospital out here.” 

There was a heavy silence following the statement, broken only by the sound of the Quinjet rumbling to life. 

“Clint, I’m going to hook you up to an IV, hopefully I’m just being overly cautious though,” Bruce narrated as he set up the equipment. 

Bruce took Clint’s hand and had to scrub with three different alcohol wipes before it was clean enough to place the IV. Clint watched with what seemed like a detached interest. But the coughing was finally starting to slow down a bit and Steve felt like he was holding the mask up to Clint’s face for longer than he initially was.  

“Clint, can you try talking at all?” Bruce asked as he took out a stethoscope. 

Clint wheezed in a couple labored breaths before he managed to rasp out, “Hurts.”

“I know,” Bruce said sympathetically as he listened to Clint’s chest. “I need you to stay upright and conscious for me though. If the blood is in your lungs, we don’t want it pooling there.”

“Can you tell if it is in his lungs?” Natasha questioned as they watched Bruce listen carefully to his stethoscope. 

“I can’t say for sure,” Bruce said grimly as he straightened up. “There’s definitely some fluid, but he also very likely has chemical pneumonia due to all the chemicals in that warehouse he likely inhaled while they burned up. In any case, I don’t have the equipment to really be able to deal with it here. All we can really do is keep him going until we can get him to the hospital.”

“We can do that,” Steve said with what he hoped sounded like more conviction than he felt. 

It was perhaps the longest plane ride any of them had endured. Even as Clint’s coughing became less severe, his breathing remained terribly shallow as he fought to pull in each breath. His coughs also went from painfully dry to thick and wet, which was perhaps even more concerning. 

It took almost two hours for them to reach a hospital that had a landing pad where they could land. Tony had alerted the medical team, who were ready to rush onto the jet the moment the jet lowered. Bruce stuck with the team as they loaded Clint onto a gurney and took him into the hospital, rattling off his decompensating vitals. And if they were being honest, Bruce was there to help but also to look after Clint, since the Avengers couldn’t necessarily trust random hospitals to be free of anyone who held a grudge against them. 

Once again, Clint had gotten lucky. The smoke inhalation had caused a pulmonary embolism that had been severe enough to need removal, but the doctors were able to perform the procedure without any complications. After that, they were able to stabilize him enough that the next day the Avengers were able to transport him home in order to be under the care of their own trusted medical staff. 

Another crisis averted and just another day in the life of the Avengers. 

[anakinthetrashking]

yo! you just read the queen's thief series? :0 i am a long-time fan and would LOVE to hear any of your feelings about it (also, have you seen the discord server bc its pretty active and fans always love more fans if discord servers are your thing :)

So, you'll have to forgive how LATE this reply is, it's been a mixture of busy-school-semester-quarantine-social-burnout and tumblr deleting my replies when I tried to save them to continue writing later!! But it's now 3am and my brain won't stop thinking about Queen's Thief, so it's the best time to reply, really! (But I really do appreciate you sending in this ask to let me rant about TQT!!!!! AHFKSISJ replying is just hard sometimes lol)

So because I'm terribly long winded and because spoilers!!! For a few people who follow me who haven't read it/or haven't finished reading it, the rest is under the readmore!

Where to begin. So my blog says I just read it but I realized that's a little bit of a lie now? I read the first five books for the first time at the end of Dec 2019, and the beginning of January 2020! I had seen the name of the series around before, around Tumblr bc of a few people I'm following, in regards to a Batfam fic by lurkinglurkerwholurks, ( this one: Breathing )who is ALSO a longtime TQT fan! I reread her Batfam fic after reading the Queen's Thief series and it hit SOOOOOOOOO much harder. Really brilliant. But that last straw was getting an email saying that one of my other all time fav fic writers was writing a fic for TQT. I saw that email and basically immediately downloaded The Thief on my library app 😂 (i needed to be able to read the fic!!! And I'm soooooo glad I: a) read the series before reading the fic, therefore not spoiling anything and b) was able to read the fic because holy cow does it live rent free in my brain. It's Ere by audreycritter btw)

Anyhow, I absolutely DEVOURED the books. I read one after another and then ended up rereading the first three again more slowly over the course of that spring semester. I started drawing again, listened to a good amount the Attolian Archives podcast, reblogged and MADE!! ART!! and m e m es, died when MWT REBLOGGED ONE OF MY MEMES AND SAID IT MADE HER LAUGH, recommended the series to a bunch of people and got several to at least *start* reading the series! I haven't gotten seratonin from books like this since early high school ten years ago! 🤣

Plus the fandom is SO SWEET!!!! And MWT is so engaging!!!! I love that she lets us play in her sandbox! It's like she made a fully furnished dollhouse complete with dolls but she lets us continue to decorate it and build on it and move the dolls around, and then she comes up and gives us compliments on the little things we've done!!! 🥺😭💞

Oh but the books themselves!!! They dig their spots in my heart deeper everytime I read them!!! I don't think Ive ever read a series that I enjoy more every time I reread it. I'm looking forward to rereading this last book, bc I know that the only one that I was obsessed with the first read through was QoA. All the others I liked the first time I read it, but I wasn't in LOVE with them, you know? But when I went back to read them a second time I LOVED THEM. Its like a riptide that you kick around in the shallows the first time around, and then the next time suddenly you're sucked out to sea???

It feels like the pages hold secrets that need to be teased out. The dialogue is SO FUN. It has suspense but not so much that you're stressed. It's so balanced. It has lines that make you put the book down and have to just, do a lap.around the block because they really said that. THEY REALLY SAID THAT. "Diplomacy, in my own name." SHE REALLY SAID THAT. The symbolism, the foreshadowing, I'm OBSESSED! THE CHARACTERS!!!! THE LOYALTY!!!!! What i wouldn't do to have that sort of loyalty written into some of the other fandoms that I'm in. And the TEnderNESS. The way Gen interacts with others??? The way he loves so.wholly? With his entire self??? The way that it's sorta slowburn found family before tumbling into found family all at once in a way that isn't slowburn at all?? I'm pulled in by Gens tricks every time. The storytwists surprised me but made sense. The writing was enjoyable to get lost in. I think of the way that Gen sits at Irene's feet and looks up at her with eyes full of love, how he sits like a printers apprentice in a chair but sits like a king while sick/hurt in his bed, I think about the way he pushed Relius's hair back and kissed him on the forehead, how Relius said he would still crawl back to his Queen and Gen said me too, the difference between my Queen and my King and your Majesty 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 the way Helen says that Sophos basically has Gens heart in his hands, the way that all four of them are entwined together. I think about these books and I'm filled with YEARNING

Uh, No thoughts, head empty except for squeeing about TQT. This isn't even like,,,,,, idk a quarter of it??? There's so much more but it's all so hard to put into words, a lot of it is just me yelling incoherently because I'm overwhelmed! And when I string words together it's, well. All over the place! 😂

As for the discord thing, I've seen the link around! I'm uh, Not Great(tm) at being social, and so the discord is a leeeeetle daunting, haha. But I have considered it, especially because I have an... Interesting fic idea that I wanted to drop into the pool of other TQT fans to see their reactions. It's... a little bit evil...

Thanks again for the ask!

[xteenwolfwritingsx]

You Know Better - Part 36 - Recover

-gif source unkown-

Story Description: Peter and the reader develop a slow relationship.

Part Description: You wake up in the hospital.

Warnings/Labels: Medical mumbo jumbo. Tooth-decaying sweetness.  

Approx. Word Count:  

A/N: Final part before the epilogue (which I plan to have out this month!!) Again, not a medical professional. I know nothing of medical mumbo-jumbo and the only “research” I’ve done is watch House and Grey’s Anatomy. So bear with me.

Story Masterpost

Everything is hazy and bright when your eyes blink open. You’re staring at very bright, white lights covering an entire ceiling and laying on a firm, unforgiving mattress. The sheets are scratchy. Your throat is dry and there’s something shoved inside of it. You cough, trying to get it out, but it doesn’t work.

You start to panic, unable to breathe with this thing blocking your airway. You keep trying to cough, to breathe, as machines start beeping around you. You lift your hands to pull at whatever is in your mouth, but you find your wrists encased in restraints, only able to lift them a few inches. Tears fill your eyes at the fear and the sensation of having something scratching inside of your throat.

“She’s awake!” a man yells. “Someone get Melissa!” There’s a hand on your arm and your vision clears enough to see Derek leaning over you. “It’s okay. Calm down,” he tries to soothe. There’s a worry in his eyes that he tries to hide that only makes you panic even more in your haze.  

You ball your hands into fists and pull at your restraints as hard as your weakened body allows. They don’t budge though and every sound you attempt to make; words, screams, anything, is blocked by the tube in your mouth. Derek’s hand wraps around yours and squeezes.

Melissa runs in, hands immediately coming to your mouth. She unclips the device and starts to pull. The tube down your throat comes out too slowly for your liking and you cough violently, trying to simultaneously expel it and ease the scratchiness it leaves behind.

You’re still coughing, trying to catch your breath when Peter runs into the room, clear panic across his face. Derek releases your hand reluctantly and steps back, allowing Peter to sweep in, taking his place. His hands instantly go to work on the restraint around one of your wrists.

“Peter,” Melissa warns, pausing her motions of adjusting the machines next to your bed to make the frantic beeping stop. He gives her a short glare.

“She’s coherent this time,” he scolds, continuing to release the straps. Once finished, he takes hold of your hand in both of his and you find yourself clinging to him. “And I’ve got her.” His words are as firm as his grip and you finally start to feel yourself relax, let your heartrate come down. His eyes meet yours and they soften. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, warming the cold skin. “I’ve got her,” he repeats quietly, the words meant for you this time.  

“What,” you try to speak, but your voice croaks and your throat burns in pain. Derek’s already handing Peter a cup of water with a straw for you to drink from. Melissa presses a button on the bed and the head of it starts to rise, slowly sitting you up. When you’re at a fairly upright angle, Peter holds the cup in front of you.

The water tastes good, but feels both soothing and painful as you swallow it. It’s very clearly the first liquid you’ve had in days. Which means you’ve been knocked out for at least that long. As you drink, you look closely at everyone. Derek’s stubble has grown out a little. There’s three long, faded scratches along Melissa’s right cheek. Peter looks tired and his clothes look crumpled, worn. You rub your legs together and judging by their scratchiness, it’s been at least a week since you shaved last.

“You’re going to be a little weak,” Melissa tells you gently as she works on the restraints on your other wrist. “Just go slow.” You clear your throat just to test your voice and it still hurts, but not enough to stop you.

“What happened?” It’s hoarse and low, but understandable.

“You’ve been out for almost twelve days,” Melissa says. “The poison really did a number on you. You’ve been on a ventilator for a couple of days now.”

“You woke up last week,” Derek tells you, coming to stand at the foot of the bed so that he can see you clearly. “But you weren’t exactly…” he pauses and his eyes involuntarily dart to Melissa’s face. She looks down, allowing her hair to curtain over her cheek and the scratches.

“Did I do that?” Guilt floods you, but she smiles gently and gives your hand a friendly squeeze.

“It’s okay. You weren’t lucid.” Her voice is kind and honest, holds no trace of blame. The woman was too damn nice. You squeeze her hand back and are about to apologize anyways when Peter speaks.

“You’ve got one hell of a right hook too.” His voice is more jovial, even if it is a little forced. “Wonder who taught you that.” You never thought in a hundred years that his condescending smirk would bring you such comfort, but by god it does. He rubs his jaw in mock pain and throws you a subtle wink. “Think I can still feel the bruise.” You let go of him and smack the back of your hand against his stomach. The motion takes more energy than you expected, but everyone gives a little smile.

“You probably deserved it,” you tease, hating how scratchy your voice sounds. You clear your throat and readjust yourself on the bed, incidentally tugging at your IV and various life-monitoring devices that make you look like a puppet with all their wires. You give up with a sigh and contend to being uncomfortable.  

“We can go over all the details later, but you’re going to be okay.” Melissa moves some of wires for you and lifts your bed up a little more.  

“Everyone else?” Anyone not in this room could be dead, after all.  

“Everyone is okay.” Derek calms your fears quickly, easily seeing the worry rise up in your face. “Kayla is dead and we got the Cerberus back where it belongs.”  

“And how exactly would you know if everyone’s alright?” Melissa quips, a smile on her face. She turns her eyes to you. “Neither of them have left this hospital since they brought you in here. The entire world could be devolved into chaos and they wouldn’t have a clue.” Both Hales shoot her half-hearted glares.

“Someone would have called,” Peter joke dryly. You bite back a smile of your own and reach for his hand again, redirecting his attention to you. It felt good to touch him.

“Well why don’t you go find out?” She puts her hands on the bed railing and straightens out, shifting strictly into Mom/Nurse-Taking-No-Shit mode. “She needs her rest and we’re going to need to run some tests just to be safe. So out you go.” She nods towards the door, but as expected, neither of them move without looking to you first.

“It’s okay,” you assure them, shooing them with one of your hands. “Go take showers. You both stink,” you tease. You can tell they’re still reluctant, but Derek nods his head and files out first. Peter pauses, reaching out to gently stroke his hand along your jaw before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises.  

After Peter leaves, Melissa turns to you, having previously turned away to give you some semblance of privacy. She smiles sweetly, but there’s a teasing glint in her eye. You raise your eyebrows at her, silently asking what it was.

“You know,” she starts slowly, jotting down some notes on your chart. “I went on a date with him once. Sort of.” Suddenly you feel a little embarrassed.

“I…forgot about that,” you admit. She laughs a little bit.

“Most people do. Even I forget sometimes.” Grabbing a blood pressure cuff off the wall, she motions for your arm. “He had this gentleman air around him. Like he was the type of guy to always get the door for you and ask permission before he kisses you.” You scoff a little and she gives you a knowing look. “That was all a façade obviously. He’s not that kind of guy at all.” The inherently negativity of the statement brings the instinct to defend his character onto the tip on your tongue, but she continues without giving you the chance. “He is, however, the kind of guy to carry a bloody, barely breathing woman into the hospital and sit in the waiting room, also bloody, for 32 hours before he can see her again. He’s the kind of guy to stay with said women at all hours of the day and hold her hand and talk to her, plead with her to be okay because he needs her, when he thinks no one can hear.” Her eyes are trained on the blood pressure gauge as the cuff squeezes your arm uncomfortably, but you’re sure she can still notice the blush that comes to your pale face. “May not be the chivalrous gentleman he pretended to be, but it’s pretty clear that man would do anything for someone he loves.” You’re very grateful it’s just your blood pressure she’s checking and not your pulse because the way your heart just skipped around in your chest would certainly raise some red medical flags.

“Oh I don’t think… I mean he’s just being…” you fumble for words, but nothing sounds right. The smile she gives you is endearing and she gives you a small wink as she un-velcros the cuff.

“It must be a Hale thing,” she teases. “Derek also happened to be staining a chair with blood in our waiting room for quite a while.”  

“They better pay for those chairs,” you tell her, causing her to laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” She closes up your chart and gives your hand a pat. “I’ll have someone in to draw some blood in a minute, but after that, you should get some rest.” You had to admit, your body feels weak and your eyes want to do nothing more than close for a while.

“Thank you,” you tell her just before she leaves the room.

---

When your eyes blink open, you can tell it’s nighttime. All the lights are dimmed down in your room. The blinds over the windows you hadn’t noticed before are drawn, but it’s obvious there’s no sunlight trying to filter in behind them. Your bed is slightly reclined back, but all it takes is a lift of your head to see Peter sitting in a chair across the room, an open book in his hands. He’s got new clothes on, much less rumbled than before.

“Reading in the dark is bad for your eyes,” you manage to croak out. He looks up swiftly and smiles at you.

“So I’ve been told.” He snaps the book closed and leaves it on the chair behind him when he gets up, coming to stand next to you. He grabs the water off the table besides you and once again, holds it up for you to drink from the straw resting on the lip. “How are you feeling?” he asks gently after you manage to contain a sputter of a cough.  

“Sore. Groggy. Weak. But better than when I first woke up.” An honest answer. Lying wouldn’t do you any good with him.  

“You had us worried for a while there.” His hand comes to the top of your head, thumb stroking gently along your forehead. It’s comforting and almost makes you want to go back to sleep.

“You should have told me about the poison.” You can’t resist the urge to scold him lightly. “Locking me up with Argent of all people?” A look of regret briefly breaks through his features.

“I know.” The words surprise you. You hadn’t expected him to actually agree with you. “I didn’t have a better plan though and I just…” He sighs heavily, eyes looking away from you. “I was afraid,” he admits slowly. He doesn’t like saying it, even rolls his shoulders uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to… I couldn’t…”

“Come here,” you whisper, cutting him off and drawing his eyes back to you. You reach your hand out towards him and he only hesitates for a moment before leaning down close to you. You bring your hand to his cheek, his jawline prickling the bottom of your palm with too-long stubble. Your hold on his face is gentle and timid, but he leans into it, almost like he craved your touch. You brush your thumb over his cheekbone and he closes his eyes. “I can’t lose you either.”  

He doesn’t need to say it. You don’t expect him to. Words are an unneeded obligation after everything that’s happened. Romance. Connection. Love. People will call it, label it, whatever they see fit, but you don’t need to. In this moment, it’s clear you and Peter both know you’re on the same page, whatever that might be. That’s all that matters.

He leans down enough to press his lips to yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It’s not out of passion or lust, but of a need to be touching you, to be intimate on a deeper level and to feel you solidly, real and alive. You cling to him, one hand on his cheek and the other fisting the torso of his shirt. It lasts longer than it probably should and when he finally pulls away, you’re blinking away tears.  

Everything is okay.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For coming back for me.”  

“I’ll always come back for you,” he says softly, pulling away a little further. You wonder briefly, if the heart skipping thing will ever stop around him. His eyes brighten a little and his face lightens. “Don’t want to waste a good student.” You bite your lip to hold back a soft laugh while letting your hands come down from him, allowing him to straighten back up with a grin. “You should get your rest,” he tells you, offering you the water once more. “I’ll be here if you need me.”  

He gives your hand a squeeze before returning to his chair and opening up his book. You watch him for just a few moments, admiring everything about him and being simply amazed at how things have turned out. Your eyes drift shut and you slip into sleep with the lightest smile on your face.  

Everything is perfect.