#trashcan and he made some joke like oh the morning sickness is starting already

[milo-is-rambling]

Disgusted disgusted disgusted !!!!!!

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

The Glitch

I get the Broken Reality au is a haha funny joke but there’s been some legit great art for it and since Butterfly is over and I haven’t gotten into the groove of my other projects yet, I decided to try some flash fiction of my interpretations. Note that this is very small and informal; I used whatever idea came into my head over the course of an hour or so instead of the weeks of planning that go into my usual fics. This was an experiment for fun. But if people enjoy the concept, I may be tempted to expand on it.

Credit to @lollitree @moonpaw @gentrychild​ @owlf45​ and @cyber-phobia​ (I’m sorry if I missed someone I lost track of how many people were involved in this mess).

Content working for reference to infant death.

Please enjoy!

The city shut down for a typhoon warning.  Thunder rumbled in the distance.  Dark clouds blocked the sun so much that by mid-morning it still looked like it never bothered coming up.  And yet the humidity made it too hot for coffee.  Inko didn’t know how to feel.  Work would have been a good distraction.  But she didn’t want any coworkers or clients to see if today got to be too much.  And it was already shaping up to be.  She caught herself making two plates of food for breakfast.  

Inko sat alone in the kitchen.  She couldn’t bring herself to finish her own plate.  Sickness set in fast.  The food had been cold for a long time before she summoned the strength to get up and throw it away.  Then she stood over the open trash can a while, debating whether to try and hold it together, or just throw up and get it over with.  She eventually managed to keep her stomach steady enough to go back to her bedroom.  There was another trashcan in there anyway.

A sound stopped her.  From her office.  The distinct sound of something heavy falling onto the carpet.  Right as she walked past the door.

Please not this again…

She opened the door with her eyes closed.  Her mind conjured a familiar image.  A bedroom full of books and hero posters.  Bright colors and personal touches.  A child’s room.  Inko opened her eyes to her drab home office.  Some of the older case file binders slipped off the pile again.  She really needed to sort those into storage. Not today though.  She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Inko walked faster than normal the rest of the way to her room.  She doesn’t want to face the temptation to search for old toys she remembers storing in the empty closet.  Or search the walls for scuff marks from action figures tossed into them she could always see even after the walls were painted. She hid her planner on a tall shelf and put the ladder away to make it that much harder to go through it over and over looking for doctors’ appointments and school events she knew were coming up.  Finally reaching her bed brought no comfort.

Of course she knew today’s date by heart.  She hadn’t put it on a calendar in the fourteen years since she used to look at it every day.  Inko stuck her head under her pillows, as if they could block out the silent noise of her memories.  Memories of before, the time even when she was by herself, she was never alone.

Fifteen years now, today.  With a shuddering gasp, the tears finally came.  Thunder crashed outside.  It’s not fair!  Why is it still this hard after this long?  Phantom kicks in her belly joined the growing ice there.

The hardest part was she still felt like that sometimes.  Like she wasn’t really alone.  Inko didn’t believe in ghosts, but the lost of what could have been was more than haunting enough.  She felt it watching her.  Judging her. Waiting just long enough for her to settle down into a peaceful, content existence before it reared up to plague her heart all over again.  Cliché hauntings like spooky faces in the mirror or blood coming out of the drains would have been preferable.  Those would be generic enough not to remind her directly.

Rain started outside.  Her phone lit up with a notification she ignored in time with a thunderclap.  The storm was getting closer.

Maybe I should call Hisashi, the thought crossed her mind.  Maybe he’s going through this too.  She bit her lip bloody.  Her frustrated memories weren’t in question like the others.  Probably not though.  I don’t want to talk to him anyway.

Hisashi had been stuck in the denial stage of grief, which often came off as him acting like he didn’t take hers seriously.  Not a year, not even half a year looking back, after they came home from the hospital, he wanted to try again.  

“We can’t let mourning hold us up forever,” he said.  “And it’s not like we lost a once in a lifetime opportunity!  We’ve got at least another twenty years to keep trying!”

But we did lose him! she had wanted to scream.  Still did, years later.  Why didn’t he understand?  He was your loss too!  Inko wanted for the next roll of thunder, then shouted.  

“I don’t just want any baby!  I want Izuku!”

The lights went out.  The temperature rose five degrees instantly when the ceiling fan stopped going.  The rain stopped.

Power outage.  Inko sat up with a sniffle.  Turns out the notification was a warning about roving blackouts.  Of course.  Oh well. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook tonight any-

Thunder boomed even louder than before, making her jump.  Then another.  Lightning flashed outside at the same time.  It was right on top of her.

What?  I thought the typhoon wasn’t supposed to make landfall until later toni-

Another crash.  It vibrated through her bones.  Then another. The lightning lit up her whole room. Except for a shadow on the wall. Inko jolted to look, holding her breath, and found only her own shadow in the next flash.

“I’m such an idiot…”  She went for her phone again.  For peace of mind, she decided to use her data to check if an evacuation order went out. Or any updates at all really, since the weather came so much faster than the news said.  “Nothing,” she sighed annoyed.  “I hate being alone for weather like this…”

A new notification pinged.

[Mom]

Inko blinked rapidly.  The message remained.  All of her insides turned inside out in an instant, and she started crying again. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? No one ever got a chance to call her that.  She touched the note to open it, but nothing happened.  No app or source was displayed.  Nor did it go away after a few seconds like normal.  

“Wha- What’s going on?” she wept.  In a mix of sorrow and rage, she wound up to chunk the device across the room.  But she froze.

Outside her window, floating against the pitch-black sky, were two small orbs.  Perfectly circular and glowing.  Watching her. She didn’t dare move.  

Another ping.  She looked without moving.

[I’m sorry]

“…  What?”

For a moment, all the sounds in the world dropped out.  They all came back at ounce.

Lights flickered.  Both the ones inside and the lightning going outside.  Multiple strikes laid on top of one another.  No relief.  Thunder pounded over and over like a drum solo.  It shook the whole building.  Inko ran into the closet away from the window.  She slammed her hands over her eyes but it didn’t help.  Her terrified cried were whispers to the screams of the storm.

A child’s scream.  She heard it. Each flash of light came with a cry. The distinct sound of a little boy calling out in pain blended with unyielding nature.  It came from every direction.  Every hair on Inko’s arms stood up in fear.  She felt the charge in the air.  But she had to go out.  Her baby was crying for help.

She burst from the closet into the living room.  All the lights and appliances turned themselves on and off.  The TV showed only static between its flashes. Something drew her too it.  The storm was deafening.  It pounded through her head like a heartbeat.  The beats got faster.  The static flashes started to look like a face.  Her usual caution was abandoned as she fell to her knees and touched the screen.  The snow cleared for a single instant.  Just long enough to look like the blank eyes from the window.  She felt the heartbeat there too.

Then it stopped.  All of it. The noise and lights all went quiet and dark.  The TV went completely cold in an instant.  Inko, stunned, palmed over it looking for something.  Anything.  The pulse. Warmth.  A burnt fuse or faulty wire.  But nothing.  The rain started again.

She pulled her hands back to her lap.  Her heart was still racing and tears kept flowing down under her chin. She looked around.  Everything in the living room and kitchen looked the same. No sign of the earthquake-like convolutions the whole appartement experienced only minutes ago.  Inko combed the entire space for evidence.  An object knocked off the shelf.  A picture frame fallen from the wall.  The notifications.  Toys in the closet or scuffs in the wall.  Still not a sign.  She even stepped outside her door to check the sky.  Only light rain and shattered thunder, just like the news said the day before.

There was only one thing out of place.  Back in her bedroom, the bottom drawer of her nightstand hung open.  Inko had to steal herself before approaching it. There were only two things in there: a little green blanket, and a picture of the ultrasound.  The most recent one from her last appointment. The doctor said he was doing fine.

“Izuku…” she whispered to it in her hand.

She remembered the squealing little bundling being put in her arms for the first time.  The first time he smiled at her.  Teaching him to walk, then immediately launching into play.  Him coming home with bruises and scrapes after the kids at school were mean to him, and crying in her arms.  Then, him coming home with his first real friends in a long time. She made them all dinner. Katsudon.  That was Izuku’s favorite.

Only she didn’t remember.  The same way she didn’t really remember the toys and scuffs.  Those were fantasies.  Daydreams of what could have been.  She just thought about them so often they felt like memories. Especially today.  It was his birthday after all.  They’d fade back into vague dreams by tomorrow.  They always did.  

And she would be left with reality.  The silence.  The cold, still little hand between her fingers.  Soft cheeks without blush.  Eyes that never opened.  Clutching him too tight to her chest, knowing the second she let go he would be gone for real and it would all be over.  

But it was never over.  Inko went through this same torturous song and dance every year for fifteen now.  All the guilt and dread would subside slowly over the next one, until it all came back at once.  Just like this.

At least it’s done for now, she tried to reassure herself, climbing back into bed. It still wasn’t even noon yet.  Plenty of time for another breakdown.  Hopefully the next one won’t be, feel, as loud.  She sighed heavily into her sheets.  This sort of thing can’t be normal.  I should really try therapy again.

Against her better judgement, she kept the blanket out, and clutched it to her chest.  Static electricity pricked her fingers.  With her other hand, she reached across the bed, and tried to imagine someone else there. Not Hisashi, never him anymore.  Izuku.  He was fifteen and happy, but the storm was making him nervous so he came to lay beside her.  She remembered it like it was now.  If she closed her eyes, she could feel his warm, soft skin, with a healthy, if a little anxious heartbeat just underneath.  The mattress warped as he sighed.

“We’ll be okay.  It’s just a little rough weather,” she promised.

“Okay, Mom,” Izuku answered quietly.  “…  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”  I’ll start trying to get myself together tomorrow.  For now, let me have this.

Izuku didn’t respond for a while.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.  Happy birthday.”

[writers-blogck]

Animal Crossing Cuddles ( Kenma Kozume x Reader )

Warning(s): This is literally just because I am so addicted to Animal Crossing right now. I am doing a full makeover of my island. 

Title: Animal Crossing Cuddles Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Reader Fandom: Haikyuu! Word Count: 1,518

        "Come on, that is like the third one in a row! I just want to find some furniture but all I'm getting is bees!" You yelled at the small screen on your Nintendo Switch Lite, hands clenching the console tightly. If it wasn't something so near and dear to you, there would be a slim chance that you would just throw the torture machine against the wall. Yet, the light pastel colors of the custom Switch your boyfriend had got for you made you keep just enough of a level head to keep from breaking the precious item. Who would think that Animal Crossing could make you so angry?! It was supposed to be a relaxing game. 

        You had woken up this morning with a pounding headache and sniffles that no matter how much you tried, wouldn't stop. Where was your body getting all of that gunk?! How many tissues had you used today? All you could see was the mountain of white fluff hidden in your trashcan. 

        At least you were warm, that had to be a plus. You were wearing one of your own hoodies but Kenma had sprayed his cologne on it last time you spent the night at his house. How considerate. He knew that your hoodie fit you comfortably so instead of giving you his hoodie, he made your own smell like him. He thought it would be better in case his hoodies were too big or small on you. But your hoodie wasn't enough so you were wrapped up in your fuzzy cat blanket which made it perfect. 

        Well, it would be perfect if these bees didn't keep falling out of these trees!

        "Get out of my way Stitches or else you will be getting the net too!" You grumbled, your back sliding against the warmth of your sheets. Only a hint of your face and hands could be seen as you hid in your fortress made of blankets and the wonderful smell of your long-term boyfriend. A sick burrito perhaps. 

        Kenma's cologne was something burnt in your memory. The two of you had been dating since the beginning of middle school and have been going strong since. It started out as a simple puppy love relationship but as the two of you got older, the relationship grew with you. Kuroo had joked that the two of you were already a married couple and you would be lying if you said that it didn't make you happy when he said that. Kenma may not show it but you think it makes him happy too. It was fun to daydream about a future together.

        One way that the two of you bonded in a domestic sense was with Animal Crossing. It was a way for the two of you to bond when you couldn't visit each other. It was hard at times, especially with Kenma's overnight volleyball trips, for the two of you to meet up in person as much as you would like. Still, your relationship together was strong enough that those issues were nothing more than simple bumps in the road of your relationship. At this point, dealing with the times the two of you had to do long-distance communication was normal.  

        During one of the overnight trips with the team coming back from Karasuno, the two of you spent most of his trip home on Animal Crossing. He holed up in the back of the bus with his phone, face timing you with just enough light so you could see his cat-like eyes. That trip had been filled with silence save for the rumble of the bus in the background but it still was one of your favorite memories. Animal Crossing had made a special place in both of your hearts. 

        Kenma had both a normal Switch as well as the Lite version way before the game came out. You had never been as into games as your boyfriend but you had always liked playing Animal Crossing on Kenma's old DS. When the two of you were younger, he would let you borrow his DS during free-time. You were one of the rare people he let use his systems. He had even let you take it home with you when you had a hard week. He said that it would help to play over the weekend. The sweet music of Animal Crossing truly did help you relax after a tough week.

        Kenma decided to go all the way and more when he commissioned someone for a custom Nekoma Pastel Switch Lite just for you to be able to play the game with him. Animal Crossing meant so much to him and with the promise of being able to play it with you, he was willing to do anything he had to. He was great at giving gifts that he put a lot of thought into. HE could have just bought you a normal Lite (which would already be a huge thing) but then that sweetheart had to go and get you one specially designed. He was so casual about it too: 

        - So, I got you the new Animal Crossing.          - Oh, that's sweet but I don't have anything to play it on.          - I got you a Switch Lite too.          - Kenmaaaaaa         - It's customized too.          - KENMAAAAAAA

        "It sounds like you are having a hard time in here." The calm voice of your boyfriend made you look up from your current gaming issue in shock. You were surprised to see him standing there in your doorway, he shouldn't be here. You didn't want to get him sick. Before you could say anything, he was already shutting the door to your bedroom and walking in with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He didn't seem to be worried in any way about that as he sat down on the edge of your bed. Your eyes glanced at your phone and just now noticed the blinking notification from his message(s). Dang, that cold medicine was really getting to you. 

        "Puddin'-head, you shouldn't be here," You were surprised by how whiny your voice sounded as you spoke. You were just worried about your boyfriend, he didn't have time to get sick. He was needed on the team, he was their setter after all. You would never hear the end of it from Kuroo if Kenma got sick because of you. Never! Rooster head would spam your phone with annoying texts as revenge. 

        "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I brought my notes over for you to copy since you weren't able to make it to class today." His monotone voice was calming and had you believing everything was fine. How was he able to get you to go along with anything he said?! With the lack of sleep in your system and the cold medicine in your veins, it was easy to believe his words. Kenma had a good immune system, he wouldn't catch whatever you had. ( Kuroo would be ranting in your group chat together for the next three hours when he heard about Kenma going over to your house. He sounded more like a worried mother than even Sugawara from Karasuno ).  

        Before you could abject any further, your small console was swiped from your hands as Kenma took the space next to you on your bed. He began to play your game as casually as he would his own. You were about to open your mouth to complain about his theft when he continued to talk - 

        "I can go island hopping for you to get you some money while you do your work. I know you don't want to but you need to get those notes copied. You can have this back when you are finished. This way you won't be behind when you get back to school." Kenma's fingers moved over the buttons just like an expert, which you would be tempted to say he was. You had never met anyone that played games as much as he did. If he could, you bet Kenma would play games even when he was asleep. Kuroo already had to take his console away to make sure the blonde ate. 

        "But it's Friday! I have all weekend to get it done. Why do I have to do it right now?" 

        "Because you and I know that you won't do it if I'm not here and I won't be able to come over for the next few days. That means that you need to get it done before we can do anything. When you finish, maybe we can even watch a movie but you first have to get caught up on what you missed." 

        "Can I at least lay on your lap while I do it?" A pout graced your face and Kenma couldn't keep himself from smiling. He wasn't sure how he got so lucky to have someone like you in his life. 

        "You never have to ask. I'm always going to be here for you, whether it is for you to copy notes from or to be a human heater."

[pips-fics]

ask: if it isn't too much I'd like to request a fic where minho catches the flu and is so spaced out he starts talking in third person please and thankies,, love your writing btw !!

and here it is!  a weird tone for this one and it may or may not have turned into a changlix fic (low-key!) and i’m not mad about it?  anyway, hope you all enjoy! :)

——

the members of stray kids had endured many long days, days that started far too early in the morning and ended far too late at night for any sane human being.  and yet, this had been a long day even for them.  longer for some than others.

in particular, minho had woken up at 1 am with a fever, the stomach flu, and a desperate need for a toilet, and he hadn’t been back to sleep since.  arguably, though, the day had been even longer for changbin, and he’d woken up at noon.

the problem is, he’d woken up at noon and immediately been placed in charge of keeping an eye on minho.  and felix, apparently.  heaven knows what kind of karma he must’ve accrued in his previous life to deserve this.

officially, felix was supposed to be helping changbin out, but all he’d done so far was cover his ears and hide when minho puked and encourage whatever nonsense the sick boy had been spouting all day.

“changbin-hyung!”  changbin was currently hiding out in the bedroom, trying to get a break from babysitting.  “changbin-hyung, minho-hyung looks green again!”

changbin groaned loudly, stood up, opened the door, and was met with felix’s panicked face.  minho was draped over the younger boy’s back, completely limp.  felix’s voice was high-pitched.  “changbin-hyung!  help!  please.”

“oh for the love of— felix, why did you bring him here?”  frankly, it was astounding that anyone had thought felix would be any sort of assistance in this situation - and that includes felix himself, because he was indeed the one who insisted on staying back and “helping” today while they others went about their various schedules.

a sweet thought, changbin acknowledged, if thoughts were what actually counted.

“but you’re here!”  felix protested.  changbin resisted the urge to palm his own forehead.  instead he put a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder to encourage him to turn around and go back the way he came.

“let’s just get him to the bathroom as soon as possible.”

“minho feels sick.”  felix and changbin froze, starting at each other.  neither of them had said that.  changbin placed the back of his hand on minho’s head and was unsurprised to find it warmer than it had been all day.

“what was that, hyung?”  felix asked quietly.  this time minho didn’t respond, his head hanging down, eyes closed, snoring softly.  changbin shrugged.

“whatever, let’s just go before he wakes up and makes a mess.”

felix nodded his head in vigorous agreement and let changbin assist them (the younger boy was nearly collapsing at this point).

the dorm was a mess, changbin noted as they made their way through it.  the couch was in shambles because minho liked to take the upright cushions off.  there were tissues all over because minho didn’t have energy to find a trashcan, apparently even if it was directly next to the couch he was laying on.  there were dirty dishes and also clean ones on the counter and the ground (why?  changbin didn’t know) and frankly it was rather fortunate that seungmin wasn’t here right now.

the bathroom was even worse than the rest of the dorm, but it wasn’t worth cleaning until they could fully dispel the overwhelming smell of vomit, which wouldn’t happen until minho was feeling better.  the sick boy remained sleeping after being laid gently atop a pile of pillows and blankets on the ground - they’d spent so much time in there, they figured it was worth making it comfortable.

changbin and felix relaxed a bit as well, the younger boy sitting close to the door so that he could make a quick escape should minho’s stomach act up suddenly.

“do you want to nap, too?”  felix asked earnestly.  changbin could feel his heart thawing.  squeamishness aside, felix really was an angel.  

“are you sure?”  changbin knew the answer before he even heard it.

“yes!”  felix squeaked, almost excited.  “i know i haven’t been very useful up until now, but i’d like to do something.  i know you were up late last night working on stuff.”

he had been.  it actually wasn’t common for changbin to sleep as late as he had today, but he hadn’t returned to the dorm until 4 in the morning, and had continued working until the sun had well past peeked through the windows, probably not sleeping until around seven or eight o’clock.

permission granted, he fell asleep within a minute.

he woke up to felix making a noise that could really only be described as shrieking.

“what?!  what’s happening?”  changbin sat up way to fast, trying to wipe drool from his face and instead punching himself lightly in the jaw.  his eyes gradually found felix, gradually found what he was screaming about: a splotch of vomit on his shirt.

changbin sighed, turning back to minho.

“really?  you puked on him?  you had one job—“ changbin had been joking (half joking, maybe), but he stopped suddenly upon seeing tears in the sick boy’s eyes.

“minho’s sorry!”  the eldest whined pitifully.  “minho didn’t mean to make a mess!”

“uh… hyung…” tears started falling and changbin did everything he could to not just sit there in stunned silence.  “hey, don’t cry, it’s okay.”

“minho feels bad,” the sick boy cried.  changbin gently helped him lean over the toilet.  “doesn’t wanna be sick!”

“it’ll be okay, hyung, you’ll be alright.”  seeing that minho wasn’t going to be sick immediately, changbin turned back to felix, who was breathing hard but otherwise seemed to be frozen in place.  “lix, do you think you can get that shirt off on your own?  you can wipe up the mess with a towel first so there’s less risk of it getting on you.”

felix nods robotically and changbin wishes he could do more, but minho starts retching just then.  throwing the youngest an apologetic look, changbin refocuses.

“that’s it, get it out,” he encourages.  watching minho cry is a completely surreal experience.  up until now, changbin had hardly heard him whimper.

“minho doesn’t wa- hck,” minho gags.�� “doesn’t wanna be sick!”

“i know.”  changbin can’t think of anything better to say, so he sticks to gently shushing the older boy as he begins to heave up what little remained in his stomach.  a handful of heaves and a large shudder later, he’s pulling away from the toilet and leaning his full weight against changbin.

“minho’s tired,” he mumbles.  changbin flushes the toilet and helps minho to his feet.

“let’s get you cleaned up and then you can sleep.  sound good?”

minho just nods.  after that, he keeps quiet, entirely worn out and seemingly feeling a bit better.  he even drinks a few sips of water when felix returns, only slightly traumatized, with a water bottle.  by the time they get him tucked into bed, he’s out like a light.  changbin is nearly there, too.

“how long did i nap for before, by the way,” he asks felix when they’re snuggled up in the bed next to minho’s.  felix has a new shirt on and he snorts at the question.

“about 2 whole minutes, hyung, i don’t even know how you fell asleep so fast.  or how you’re still awake now!  get some rest already!”

changbin doesn’t need to be told twice.  he’s well on his way to dreamland when he mumbles, “thanks, lix,” and he won’t remember if he actually said it later, but he knows felix will get the message either way.

——

feel free to send more asks!

[1heartfanfics]

Could you write something where Nathan has appendicitis but thinks he's just hungover and feels kinda guilty and his friends (whichever OCs he hangs out with) are thinking "if it's serious he'll tell us" but he really tries to hide it. Starts as a normal emeto fic and spirals into feverish delirium, vomiting, and misery. Maybe Alex could save him in the end with his medical knowledge. This is my first fic request so sorry if that's way too specific.

Thanks for this prompt, its really great! Alex and Nathan don’t know eachother, but Andrew is a junior premed major who’s had quite a bit of clinic experience so it still works don’t worry.

Fuck. As soon as Nathan woke up he knew that he should not have drank so much last night. He hadn’t gone out in a long time so his body was not used to this, he felt like absolute shit.

He tried to haul himself out of bed and to the bathroom cause he felt vaguely nauseous but his body didn’t want to move. He grunted, flopping his head back down onto the pillow. 

“Babe? You okay?” Hazel asked next to him, a small hand coming to rest on his arm.

“Hnng,” he groaned, rolling over to press his face into her shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m an idiot.”

“You feeling rough?”

“Yeah. Cause I’m an idiot,” he groaned.

“Well did you have fun?” Hazel asked.

“Yeah, we were all pretty trashed and having a good time,” he laughed lightly, thinking about some of the events of last night.

“Then you’re not an idiot. You just had a little too much fun, happens to everyone sometimes,” she assured him, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“You’re the best you know that?”

“Of course I am,” she joked. “Hey so are we talking like you need some advil rough or like we need to relocate to the bathroom rough?” she asked, turning serious.

“I don’t know, stomach feels a little iffy but we’re not in any immediate danger,” he shrugged. “Mostly my head,” he continued.

“Alright, advil it is. I might grab a bucket just in case though,” she said, pressing another kiss to his forehead before sliding out of bed and disappearing down the hall. 

She came back with medicine, water, and a plate of toast. Nathan gratefully downed the medicine with a swig of water but eyed the toast warily. 

“I know, but you need to eat something. It’ll help,” Hazel insisted, reading his mind.

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed, taking a few tentative bites. When his body didn’t immediately reject them he continued, finishing both pieces. 

“Any better?” Hazel asked after a few minutes.

“Eh maybe, I don’t know. It might be a ‘awkwardly wearing sunglasses in class’ kind of day though,” he chuckled, wincing when it made his head pound. 

He got out of bed and slowly, very slowly, got dressed. He felt like he was moving through molasses. It was going to be a long day. 

“Alright, well, I guess I’ll see you tonight. Assuming I make it through the day that is,” he sighed, walking back towards Hazel. She stood up and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He gratefully leaned into her, resting his aching head on her shoulder. 

“You’ll probably be fine. But, if not, call me or come home okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah I will, thanks haz,” he agreed, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before heading off to his 8 am. 

As soon as he got to class, indeed wearing sunglasses, his friends all exchanged worried glances. He looked rough. Pale, sweating slightly, shaky. 

“You okay there Nate?” Jackson asked.

“Fine. Just hungover,” he answered shortly, headache already worsened by the increase in light and noise from him and Hazel’s dark bedroom.

“Some hangover man, you look like hell froze over,” Jackson’s boyfriend, Kaiser, commented.

“Thanks Kai, really,” Nathan huffed, sinking down into his seat and pulling his hood down over his shaded eyes.

“Sorry man,” 

“Seriously though, are you sure you’re alright?” Jackson asked again.

“I’m fine, I was just stupid last night,” he snapped.

“Okay, okay,” Jackson retreated, holding his hands up. Obviously Nathan needed to be left alone. 

Nathan made it through his first two classes alright. Well, he wasn’t paying attention to anything that was going on, but he was awake and present. As soon as he got to his third class though, he felt his stomach start turning. Suddenly he felt very queasy. He brought a hand up to rest on his belly, hissing when he felt how bloated it was, pressing against the waistband of his jeans. Maybe his friends are right, this doesn’t seem like a hangover.

He let out a quiet burp into his fist, feeling his stomach lurch. Shit, he thought, quickly standing up and bolting out of the classroom to the bathroom.

Jackson and Kaiser exchanged glances, watching him leave.

“Is he okay?” Andrew asked, coming to sit down next to Nathan’s empty seat.

“He’s hungover,” Kaiser shrugged.

“Well I don’t know, I’ve known Nathan a long time and I’ve never seen him look this bad from a hangover,” Jackson shook his head.

“Yeah I know, I think he’s sick,” Kaiser agreed.

“Should someone go check on him?” Andrew asked.

“Nah,” Jackson shook his head. “He wouldn’t want anyone but Hazel, plus he’s being weird about it.”

“He’ll tell someone if it gets serious,” Kaiser agreed. 

“Alright, if you guys are sure,” Andrew shrugged warily as their professor started lecturing.

Nathan came back in a few minutes later, one hand resting on his stomach, looking paler than ever. All three of his friends gave him worried looks, but no one said anything, not wanting to upset him further. He quietly slid into his seat, dropping his head down onto the table, which only worried his friends more. 

“Should we text Hazel?” Kaiser whispered to Jackson.

Jackson shook his head, “just let him deal with it his way, he’s damn stubborn.”

When class was over, the boys watched as their ill friend tiredly picked up his backpack with shaking hands, unsteadily making his way out of the room. They followed close behind, wanting to make sure he could even make it to his next class when they all knew he should be going home.

However, as soon as they got out of the lecture hall, Nathan rushed over to the trashcan in the corner, gripping it as he dropped his backpack onto the floor.

“Shit, Nath,” Jackson rushed over to stand next to him. He wrapped an arm around Nathan’s waist, seeing his arms shaking from holding himself up as he gagged harshly. 

“Jaz,” Nathan gasped, dry heaving over the trashcan, “Jaz something’s wrong.”

“I know, I think you’re sick buddy,” he said, rubbing his back with the other hand.

“Blaargghhh,” Nathan pitched forwards as he brought up a stream of bile and water, as he’d already thrown up the toast he’d eaten this morning. He had nothing left to throw up, but his body was insistent on continuing to try to purge his stomach contents. He gagged painfully, gasping for breath between rounds.

“No. Something’s really wrong,” he insisted, sounding out of breath.

“Okay, just try to breath for me kiddo,” Jackson said softly, helping ease Nathan to the ground as he obviously didn’t have anything in his stomach to throw up. 

“Hazel?” Nathan asked suddenly, looking around frantically.

“Oh, yeah, hey Kai will you call Hazel for us?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Kaiser. 

“Yeah, got it,” he agreed, pulling out his phone.

“Hazel,” Nathan said again.

“She’ll be here soon buddy, okay?”

“Hazza it hurts,” he whined, bending over and reaching out to grab a handful of Jackson’s shirt. 

Jackson raised his eyebrows, glancing at Andrew. He thought Jackson was Hazel. 

“This is bad right?” Jackson asked Andrew quietly.

Andrew frowned, crouching down next to them. He reached out to put a hand on Nathan’s forehead, wincing when he felt how warm he was. 

“Lay him down,” he instructed.

“Right here?” Jackson asked, “people are staring.”

“Doesn’t matter. Lay him down, hurry,” he said, his voice taking on an odd tone of panic and calm combined. 

Jackson, terrified by his friend’s sudden manner, slid his arms under Nathan’s legs and back, moving him so that he was laying down in his lap. Nathan hardly resisted, letting him move him limply. That is until Andrew tried to roll him over from his side to his back.

“NO!” Nathan shouted, slapping at Andrew’s hands.

“Andy what’s going on?” Kaiser asked quietly from behind them, holding the phone against his chest so Hazel couldn’t hear.

“Jaz hold his arms,” Andrew said. There was that tone again. The doctor tone.

Jackson’s eyes got wide, but he did as he was told.

“Nath? Hey, this might hurt a lot, but I have to do it alright? I’m really sorry, but it’ll only last a few seconds,” Andrew said calmly. Then he reached over and pressed into Nathan’s stomach on the right side. After a moment, he released his hand.

“AGHHHH!” he screamed in pain, curling up on his side and rocking back and forth, his forehead beading with sweat.

“Okay, his appendix is about to burst. Jackson go call 911, Kai tell Hazel to meet us at the hospital,” he instructed, jumping into action. 

“You’re gonna be okay Nate, I promise, I caught it. You’re gonna be alright,” Andrew assured his friend.

Nathan couldn’t hear him though, his ears were still ringing and his whole body throbbed, pain radiating throughout him from his stomach. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as his vision started going dark around the edges. He could feel himself fading out of consciousness… 

[thegoodthebadthesickly]

Bad Things Happen Bingo Headache/Migraine-Peter Parker

Cross Posting this from Wattpad because I’m in love with how it turned out!

I copy/pasted, sorry if Tumblr flubbed the formatting!

@badthingshappenbingo

Request- Headache/Migraine

Fandom- MCU *Post End Game, but everyone lives*

Wow this is so long, but I just had way too much fun!

The aura hits him in fourth period,calculus. Peter wondered why migraines didn't have the decency to atleast wait until the end of the school day.

At first, it's just shimmering spots inhis right eye, like a wall reflecting the ripples of a pool. That,Peter can handle. He still has time.

By the end of the period, the tingling starts. Peter is just hopes he can make it through lunch at this point. Any time now. Leaving for lunch, he pulls up the hood of his jacket, hoping to block out as much light as possible. Maybe, just maybe, if he could stop the visuals auras, the migraine would change it's mind.

Peter is walking to the cafeteria,trying to focus on where his feet are going so he doesn't fall over,when Ned comes up behind him.

"Dude! I got the new limited editionIron Man lego set, with the mach 1 suit! My mom said I can stay overtonight and we can work on it, as long as it's okay with May. Ialready told my mom she said yes because May always says yes. What doyou say? Lego Bros? Or, do you have secret spider-man stuff to do?"Ned adds in a whisper.

Peter would be impressed that Ned had gotten all of that out in one breath, if the sudden noise hadn’t made him nauseous. Waiting for Peter to answer, Ned filled the silence, a skill he’d gotten all too good at.

"It's okay if you can't come over today. I bet you have something really cool going on with Mr. Stark. Are you working on a new suit? Are you working on his suit? If I got to touch an Iron Man suit, I think I'd transcend-" Ned rambles, waiting forPeter to respond.

"N-Ned, please, and I mean this in the nicest, most Lego Bro way possible, be quiet." Peter plead,stopping for a moment to lean his head against the wall. He thoughthe might be sick.

"Oh!" Ned mentally kicked himselffor not seeing it sooner. The not talking, the hood pulled up, andnow that Ned really looked at Peter, how pale he was could only meanone thing. Migraine. Peter had gotten them a lot when they were kids,but had grown out of them a lot in the last few years, only getting one every few months, and not getting any at all since the bite.

"I thought the whole Spider-man thingtook care of stuff like that." Ned said, at a much more manageablevolume this time.

"I thought it did too, but I guessthere are some things radioactive spider bites just don't account for." Peter said, stepping into line for lunch.

The spots in his vision are gettinglarger. Peter has to basically shift all of the weight off of hisleft side when the tingling gets so bad that he almost drops histray. He definitely wasn't going to make it to the end of lunch.

He and Ned find the table farthest awayfrom the crowd of chattering students, which is subsequently also thetable that Michelle has chosen. She looks up from her book just longenough to nod towards Ned and flip Peter off, but does a double takewhen she sees Peter. Usually when she sees Peter and Ned together,they're in the middle of geeking out over something, or talkingabout some big brain science stuff that she doesn't even try tofollow, her areas are math and literature. Something's wrong withPeter. Michelle looks him up and down, no babbling about nerd stuffor science stuff, no talking at all actually.

"What's wrong with him?" Michellenods her head towards Peter, who sits down and immediately pushes histray away to put his head on the table.

"Migraine." Ned quietly explains.

"I didn't know you got migraines." Michelle admits, there isn't much she doesn't know about anybody.

"The power of knowledge." Peter'smuffled groan comes from under his hood.

"Why haven't you gone home?"Michelle raised an eyebrow, making an effort to keep her voice at least a little quiet.

"I thought I had time." Peter moans.

"What?"

"I thought-" Peter starts again,cut off by something that sounds suspiciously like gagging.

"He got them a lot as a kid and used to be able to time them, and their symptoms, down to the minute."Ned explained once again, eyeing Peter and wondering if he was going to have to dive for the trash can. "Kind of like a super power."

"That is the worst super power I've ever heard of."

"Tell me about it." Peter deadpans.

"Why not just go to the nurse now? You've already been here for half of the day. You won't be countedabsent." Michelle pointed out.

Peter looked up at Michelle with dead eyes. Odd zigzags and shapes danced in front of his eyes.

"Do you want me to help you?" Ned asked.

Michelle almost offers to help, but that's really not how hers and Peter's friendship works, less caring words and offering to help him to the nurses office, more sarcastic words and shit talking each other. He would just think it was weird.

Peter weighs his options, he could wait to see if things improve, yeah he felt bad, but the migraine hadn't actually hit yet. If he went home now, there's no way May would let him out to patrol tonight. Secondly, the less desirable option, admit defeat. Even if he'd lost his touch, Peter knew that the migraine was on it's way, and it was probably going to be a big one. He could save himself some misery now by just going home.

Peter groans and lifts his head, uncharacteristically heavy now, and looks at Ned.

"I do have one problem with this scenario." Peter says.

"Peter, you can't st-" Ned starts, figuring Peter only wants to stay so he can do super hero stuff tonight. If he went home, there's no way May would let him out tonight.

"I'm not sure how well my legs work right now, basically my entire left side is numb."

"Is that normal?" Michelle asks, actual concern seeping into her tone.

"Sometimes." Peter shrugs, leaving out the part where he only goes numb if it's a particularly bad migraine. This was going to put him out of commission for the next two days.

Ned, not one to back down from protecting his friends, stood up and marched around the side of the table to Peter.

"Come on." Ned beckoned, moving closer so Peter could grab his arm for stability.

Peter took a steadying breath before grabbing Ned's arm and hauling himself up. The effort of standing had evidently only made things worse. Now, to accompany the ripples and sparks in his vision, the numbness and the tingling, there was a low ringing in Peter's ears and pain coming from somewhere around his neck, like somebody had been giving him a deep tissue massage a little to enthusiastically. Peter trips over his own feet as he maneuvers around to face the door.

"Woah" Ned catches Peter before he can fall on his face.

If Michelle hadn't been worried about Peter, she might have laughed at the sight.

"Ugh" Peter grunts, righting himself.

"Yeah, you need to go home, like, now." Ned observes.

Slowly, Peter and Ned make it out of the cafeteria. By the time they make it back into the main building with the nurses office, Peter can definitely feel the headache starting.

"I need a sec." Peter says, stopping to lean against Ned as a wave of nausea rolls over him.

"Are you gonna be sick? You're really pale." Ned asks, wondering for the second time if he'd need to dive for a trashcan.

"No. No. Keep going." Peter mumbles, his tone breathy. God, everything hurts. A feeling of "ick" had settled into Peter's bones, like he had the flu.

"Almost there, buddy. You good?" Ned asks softly.

"Good." Peter practically whispers.

Nurse Penny is all too surprised to see Ned Leeds practically carrying Peter Parker into her office. She's having lunch, a vegan macaroni and cheese, when Ned deposits Peter on the couch. Now, Peter Parker used to be a repeat offender in her office, but she hadn't seen him for months. In fact, he had stopped coming around for his inhaler and various other maladies right around the time that Spider-Man showed up in the city, but that was none of her business.

"Mr. Parker, Mr. Leeds." She greets the boys. "What can I do for you today?"

"Peter has a migraine." Ned says, knowing he doesn't have to explain anymore than that to Nurse Penny.

"Would you like me to call your aunt, Peter?" Penny acknowledges the pale boy on the bed, leaning his head against the wall and generally looking like death warmed over.

"Y-yeah." Peter tries to sound as dignified as possible, and then remembers that May left on a trip to see a cousin this morning. She'd offered to take Peter, but he needed to be available to the Avengers. May had softly lectured him about how he was still a kid and how he should at least take her time away to throw a party.

"Wait, she-she's out of town. She left this-this morning." Peter says. He could barely see anything for the rippling in his vision and the pain dial was slowly being turned up to twenty.

"Oh. Is there anyone else I can call?" Penny asks, looking at the approved caretakers. May Parker, Ben Parker, Tony Stark...Tony Stark?! Penny is sure she read that wrong. Someone must have put that down as a joke.

"Tony Stark." Ned offers.

So it wasn't a joke?

"Peter is an intern at Stark Industries. Mr. Stark wouldn't mind taking him home."

"N-no. I don't want to bother Mr. Stark. I can just wait it out." Peter says weakly.

Pursing her lips, Penny wonders what to do. She looks at Peter, who is getting paler by the minute, and at Ned, who just nods cryptically.

Still unable to believe that she's actually about to talk to Tony Stark on the phone, Penny picks up the phone and dials the number listed.

One ring. Two rings. Click.

"Tony Stark's phone. Pepper Potts speaking." Pepper answers, she hadn't said those words in a long time, but Tony was in the workshop blasting music and hadn't heard his phone ringing. She got up from the couch where she had been watching movies with Morgan, before she had gotten bored and left to see what Tony was doing in the workshop.

"Hi, I'm calling for Tony Stark. I'm the nurse at Midtown High and I'm here with Peter Parker. He has a migraine and needs to be picked up from school." Penny explains.

"Oh, poor thing. I'll let Tony know. Someone will be there shortly." Pepper says before hanging up, she can definitely empathize with Peter, having struggled with migraines for years.

"O-okay." Penny says, surprised. She wonders if Tony Stark himself will be showing up to retrieve the sick Peter Parker from school. Tony stark, with that hair, and that face, and that-Penny cuts her thoughts off.

Pepper takes the elevator down to the workshop, AC/DC getting louder all the way. When she steps out, the site that greets her is one she's seen all too often. Tony and Morgan are leaned over a machine with welding helmets on. Sparks are flying everywhere. Pepper tries to stand back, she already owns enough clothing with burn marks.

"Friday, can you pause the music?" Pepper says, knowing that she doesn't have to raise her voice for the AI to hear her.

"Sure thing, Boss Lady." Friday says happily.

The music stops abruptly. Tony and Morgan stop what they were doing and Pepper walks over to them, no longer in danger of ruined clothing.

"Tony, what have I told you about letting our child use your tools?" Pepper crosses her arms, seeing where sparks have burned little holes in Morgan's new shirt.

"I should always have her wear something over her clothes." Tony says sheepishly.

"You may be one of the wealthiest men alive, but you won't be that way for long if I have to keep replacing clothes as soon as I buy them. Also, Peter's school called. He's sick and they need someone to pick him up. I could have Happy-"

"What's the kid gotten himself into now?" Tony asks, trying not to sound as worried as he is, already taking off his welding gear. For a super hero, Peter Parker seemed to have more of a knack for getting himself into trouble than out of it.

"The nurse said he has a migraine. I didn't know he got migraines." Pepper admits.

"Me neither. I'll go get him. No need to call Happy, he's with his mom today." Tony doesn't want to admit that he struggles to trust anybody, even one of his best friends, with Peter's well being after the events of the past few years.

"Morgan, why don't you go upstairs and watch movies with mommy?" Tony picks up Morgan, placing her on his hip.

"Can I go with you and see Peter?" Morgan asks excitedly.

"No, not today. I don't think Peter feels too good." Tony explains as he removes the welding helmet.

"I can make him feel better." Morgan protests as Tony hands her over to Pepper.

"Why don't we go make up the guest room for Peter? I bet he's really tired." Pepper tucks a piece of hair behind Morgan's ear.

"He can borrow my Aunt Carol doll!" Morgan offered, referring to the Captain Marvel plush doll that Tony had gotten her for her birthday.

"That sounds perfect." Pepper said excitedly.

Pepper and Tony say in unison.

Tony gives Pepper a kiss and ruffles Morgan's hair before they head back upstairs and he leaves to retrieve Peter.

A Tesla pulling up outside Midtown high in the middle of the day was a weird enough occurrence, but when Tony Stark himself steps out of the Tesla, that's when things get interesting.

Tony thought lunch must have just let out by how many students were around to witness his arrival. He expertly wades through the sea of teenagers pulling out their phones and walks into the main building. He pulls to a stop at the reception desk.

"Hi, Tony Stark here to pick up Peter Parker." He says, taking off his sunglasses and hooking them to his shirt.

The secretary stammered for a moment before sputtering "Nurses office. Down the hall on the left."

"Thanks." Tony smiles.

He follows the secretary's directions and ends up at a door marked with a large red and white wreath reading "Nurse Penny". Tony knocks.

Nurse Penny, Tony assumes, opens the door and isn't quite quick enough with her expression to hide the look of surprise on her face to be opening her door to Tony Stark.

"Hi. I'm here for Peter." Tony looks into the room, the lights are dimmed and he has to strain his eyes to see inside. Once his eyes adjust, he sees Peter and his friend (Neville? Nehemiah?) sitting on the cot in the corner. On sight, Peter looks like death, and that's saying something. He's leaned against the wall with his eyes closed.

"This seems to be a particularly bad episode." Penny explains quietly. "He's become very sensitive to light and sound."

"May I?" Tony asked, stepping into the room.

"Of course." Penny side stepped.

Peter didn't react as Tony knelt in front of him.

Pete? Peter?"

Peter opened his eyes a sliver.

"Mr. Stark?" He mumbled.

"Yeah. It's me bud. I'm gonna take you home, okay?"

"M'head hur's" Peter whines.

"I know it does." Tony said, turning to Penny. "Were you able to give him anything?"

"I'm allowed to give him Excedrin, but I'm not sure how much that helped."

"Thank you, and thank you, Nathaniel." Tony turned back to Ned.

"I-it's Ned, actually, but I've been-I've been thinking of changing it." Ned stammers.

"Are you good to walk?" Tony surveyed Peter.

"Y-yeah." Peter whined. It felt like someone was driving an ice pick through his temple. He wished people would stop making so much noise.

"Let's get you up." Tony stands and holds a hand out to Peter.

Peter blearily opens his eyes and is met with Tony stark staring at him with his signature "worried dad" expression.

After a few attempts, Peter is leaning on Tony's shoulder, Tony's arm in a protective grip around his waist.

Now for the hard part.

"Hey Pete? I'm gonna open the door. It's probably really bright and loud." Tony says sympathetically, then he has an idea. "Here, put your hood up and put these on." Tony hands Peter his sunglasses, hopefully the absence of light would help make the short journey bearable.

Peter fumbled with the glasses for a moment before putting them on and once again pulling up the hood of his jacket, his vision was still blurry and he was only just starting to get feeling back in his hand.

"Ready?"

Peter mumbled something that Tony couldn't catch, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little freaked out by how despondent the kid was.

Tony opened the door and he and Peter set off. The teachers must have made the students go to class, not wanting to make a spectacle of Peter. Tony wasn't usually grateful for a lack of people looking at him, unless he had Morgan, but this time was an exception. He was glad he didn't have to wade through a crowd of people. With Ned following close behind, Tony and Peter slowly made their way to his car.

Once inside the car, Peter curled in on himself, trying to shut out as much sensory information as possible. Why did it hurt so much?

"Feel better man." Ned whispered sympathetically, trying not to breathe on Tony Stark's Tesla, before going back into the building with Nurse Penny.

Peter mumbled something unintelligible.

Tony closed the passenger side door as softly as possible and quickly walked around to the drivers side. Then they were off.

God, it's so bright. Peter thought. Everything hurt. Thinking hurt. Ow.

Peter thought the Excedrin that Nurse Penny gave him must have taken effect, because the pain, while it definitely not gone, felt slightly muted somehow.

"Pete? We're home." Tony's voice sounded far away behind the ringing in Peter's ears.

Peter looked up at Tony through the glasses. This wasn't his apartment?

"Mr. Stark, thi-this isn't my house." Peter mumbled quietly.

"Is there anybody at your house to take care of you?" Tony asked, already knowing the answer.

"No."

"That's what I thought you were going to say. I'll be happy to let you go home once you're feeling better, but I refuse to let you be by yourself in this condition."

"I'll be fi-"

"No. Nope. I don't even want to hear the word fine right now. You look half dead, Pete, and if you feel half as bad as you look, you definitely don't need to be alone. You'll stay with until you feel better, or your aunt gets back."

"How'd you know 'bout that?"

"Do I really need to answer that?" Tony asks, not expecting an answer. "Now, What do you say we get you inside, Pepper and Morgan made up the guest room for you." Tony smiled softly.

"Mmph" Peter grunted in agreement. Ow.

Peter looked up and Tony wasn't beside him anymore. The door opened behind Peter and then there was a hand on his shoulder.

"You ready?" Tony voice asked.

Peter tried to turn himself to face Tony. Everything was so bright. He could barely see.

Tony didn't wait for Peter to say yes. He pulled Peter into a sitting position as gently as possible, putting his hand on his back as he guided him out of the car.

"Ow" Peter muttered.

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry." Tony said ruefully.

Peter wanted to tell Tony to stop, the pain in his head was blinding, making him beyond nauseous.

"S-stop I'm-" Peter cried as he gagged, tears rolling down his face. His head was splitting open. He couldn't take the pain.

Tony fought the urge to step back, which would have definitely ended with Peter on the ground, as Peter vomited onto his shoes.

"I'm s-sorry, I'm s-so sorry." Peter cried, hiccuping.

If it hadn't already, Tony Stark's heart officially shattered. He felt so helpless, he just wanted his kid to feel better. His kid? Tony backtracked, he would have to unpack that later. He stopped and let Peter lean against the car.

"Hey, shh. It's okay. I can get new shoes." Tony reassured Peter, rubbing the kid's back and searching his pockets for anything to wipe the vomit and spit on Peter's face, the kid should at least have a little dignity. Aha! Tony pulled out a handkerchief that he never used, Jarvis, the original, had told him that a real gentleman always carried a handkerchief. He gently wiped the mess off of Peter's face and then, folding it up, tried to wipe away the tears.

"It h-hur's T-Tony." Peter moaned.

"I know, honey. Are you ready to go inside? Do you feel like you'll be sick again?"

Peter shook his head the tiniest bit, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Alright, take two." Tony once again wrapped an arm around Peter's waist and slowly pulled him into a standing position.

Slowly, the two made it inside. Thankfully, someone had turned out all the lights. Peter opened his eyes a little. Morgan and Pepper were at the door to greet them. Morgan, usually over the moon to see Peter, was silent. Pepper must have told her about Peter's condition.

Not one to ever ignore Morgan, Peter waved. Morgan waved back, remaining a safe distance away.

Pepper squatted and whispered something to Morgan and then they were gone. Tony and Peter worked their way up the stairs to the guest bedroom slowly.

After what seemed like an eternity, Peter was no longer upright. There was a pulling sensation at his feet. He opened his eyes a crack, thank you black out curtains, and sat up on his elbow and saw Tony untying the laces of his shoes and taking them off.

"You don't need to do that."

"Did you want to sleep in your shoes?" Tony asked sarcastically.

The pressure of holding himself up was too much. Peter could feel nausea creeping up again. He lay back down with a huff.

"I think I've got some old pajamas around here somewhere." Tony rubbed his neck as he put Peter's shoes by the door.

"I'm-"

"Peter Benjamin Parker, if you were about to say "I'm fine", so help me God." Tony lectured quietly.

Peter turned on to his side and faced Tony.

"It's just-" Peter squeezed his eyes shut again. OW. "I don't know how helpful I'll be at something like pajamas right now."

"Pete, I wrestle a six year old into clothing everyday. A seventeen year old can't be that different." Tony chuckled softly.

Peter's blushed, even more noticeable because of how pale he was, but he didn't protest.

Tony left and went to his and Pepper's room, trying to find the softest pair of pajamas he owned. He finally settled on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Tony walked back to the guest room. Peter hadn't moved. Tony hoped he may have fallen asleep. No such luck, Peter's face was scrunched up in pain.

"Pete?"

Peter opened his eyes, his face scrunching up in pain.

"I got you some more comfortable clothes, but I'm gonna need you to work with me."

As it turns out, undressing and dressing a near comatose teenager was different from dressing his fully coherent six year old. The removal was the easy part, but getting Peter back into clothing, that was going to be a challenge.

Tony started with the shirt. He carefully gathered the shirt and pulled the neck over Peter's head. Then came the arms. In his defense, Peter did try his best to help, but had pretty much lost all meaningful coordination and was basically the equivalent of a rag doll. At last, Tony pulled the shirt down over Peter's stomach.

The pants. The pants were more awkward than difficult. Being up close and personal with Peter's, ahem area, was not something Tony had fully thought through. Finally, he was able to pull the pants up around Peter's waist. He pulled the comforter up around the kid, who immediately curled up into a tight ball.

"Pete?" Tony sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Mmm?"

"Can I get you anything?"

"No" Peter said softly.

"Feel better, kid. Pepper and I are right downstairs if you need us." Tony stood up, gave Peter a once over and then left the room, quietly closing the door.

Peter didn't so much sleep as just doze for the next few hours, the pain didn't get any worse, but it didn't get any better either, and he couldn't ever make it all the way to sleep. Somehow though, his body must have given up, because when Peter woke up he could see a sliver of pinkish early morning light peaking through the curtains.

The migraine was gone, or at least the headache was gone. Peter still felt gross, like he was just getting over the flu.

Peter wondered how long he'd slept, migraines always left him disoriented. He tested each of his extremities, starting at his toes. He felt and groggy, all symptoms pointing to having slept way longer than his body was used to. He sat up slowly, knowing that vertigo would probably make him sick again if he moved to quickly.

Oh no. Peter cringed. He vaguely remembered something about throwing up on Tony's shoes and, yep, he wasn't wearing his own clothing, so the memory of Tony having to dress him was real too. Peter cringed even harder, if possible and worked to tuck both of those memories into the Do Not Read filing cabinet in his brain.

With his eyes adjusting to the darkened room, Peter saw a cup of something, probably Pepper's chamomile tea sitting on the bed side table. Peter reached out, it was still warm, he smiled. Next to it, there was a piece of paper. It was a get well card from Morgan. Peter smiled warmly.

After emptying his screaming bladder and drinking Pepper's tea, Peter walked down to the workshop, where he knew Tony would be, because the thought of Tony having a normal sleep schedule was laughable.

Sure enough, Tony was looking at a wall of holograms when Peter walked in.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter called.

"Oh shi-Pete! You scared me!" Tony jumped.

"What are you working on?" Peter laughed.

"A kid I know, Harley, has a tech startup and he asked me to have a look at some of the products." Tony smiled, running his hands through his hair. "How are you?"

"I'm good actually. Still not 100% if we're being honest, but better than, how long ago was that?"

"About 30ish hours." Tony provided.

"Woah." Peter didn't think he'd been out that long. "Can I help?" He asked, suddenly itching to do something besides sleep.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Tony asked.

"I just rested for 30 hours." Peter shot back.

"True. I guess having you here is better than out there, getting yourself hurt." Tony admitted.

"Why? Is something happening? Do they need me?" Peter asked, on high alert.

"Kid, calm down. Everything is fine. I wouldn't be here if it weren't. Now, sit down and let me show you this kid's stuff." Tony patted a chair beside him.

Peter took a breath and sat down. He had to admit, Harley's designs were pretty cool.

[themelonsins]

Whirlwind [sickfick holla]

okay this is based on this post I made a while back u know but it was so cute that I had to write something for it now anyways i love dimitri but i love torturing him much much more. theres also a lot of canon events mentioned and if theres any confusion of those im v happy to answer

Warnings: stuffing, emeto, mentions of decapitation (?)

Things for the University of Supers Honors College were in a complete spiral. The constant villain attacks, Scarlet going missing. The most devastating occurrence was the death of Audrey’s second head-Twoey. Not only did this leave Audrey out of commission for weeks on end, but severely depressed as well. So, the gang-save Scarlet and Xavier who, upon her return, decided there was much they needed to discuss as a couple-decided to take Audrey to a nearby amusement park to brighten her day. They’ve missed her smile oh so dearly. Dimitri orchestrated the whole thing-spoiler this day doesn’t end well for our well meaning Russian baby.

“Ready to go, Audrey,” Dimitri slung his shoulder around his green-tinted, mutant friend. The top of her head was wrapped with a sort of bandage, for safety precautions. The female smiled, her sharp canines glinting brightly. 

“Yeah, I’m ready to have some fun after being cooped up in the infirmary for weeks,” Audrey breathed deeply, watching as Jesse came forward, Audrey’s purse slung over his shoulder. “I’m gonna ride with Jesse, do you mind? I mean, I know this was your plan.” Dimitri just waved his hand, giving Audrey his most handsome grin.

“Nah, of course. Jesse’s a handsome guy, of course you want to spend a car ride with him,” Dimitri winked at the two, a blush forming on the apples of Audrey’s cheeks and a slight one on Jesse’s. “Don’t kiss him too hard, he’ll make you never want to stop.” Audrey burst out laughing, and Jesse froze in his tracks, face exploding in a bright red shade. Rie hit Dimitri’s chest as he laughed in a rhythm with Audrey. Pulling Audrey’s arm, Jesse let out an embarrassed blush as he pulled Audrey down to the door. 

“You’re dead Romanov,” Jes yelled as he was opening the door, Audrey’s giggles loud from behind him. 

“Love you!” Dimitri called back. “Ready, Rie?” Dimitri’s electric gaze followed Rie as she skimmed through her purse.

“Yep! Let’s go.” She beamed, skipping out the door. Dimitri smiled at her while she skipped, though something was bubbling in the pit of his belly as he followed suit.

***

The car ride to the amusement park wasn’t doing the dull ache in his stomach any favors. Any bump in the road only made it worse. The heavy rock music, altering between RnB tracks provided a nice distraction from it. Listening to Rie’s beautiful voice belting to the track of No Scrubs by TLC, Dimitri chuckled while his stomach let out a loud, ugly gurgle. 

“Whoa,” He breathed, a smile on his face though that gurgle forced a ripple of pain to pull through his stomach. Turning the music down, Rie looked at him with a devilish grin on her face. 

“Wow, Romanov, hungry?” She teased, waiting until they were stopped to start poking at his, already, sensitive tummy. He giggled a little, though the poking provided more pain than a ticklish sensation. “Do you want to stop and get some food?” 

“Nah. Nope,” Dimitri shook his head, starting to drive once the light turned green. “I can wait, don’t worry about it.” Rie snorted.

“Whatever you say, Sparky.” Her smile was almost contagious, yet he definitely felt that whatever war was raging in his tummy wasn’t due to hunger.

***

When Dimitri told you getting off that first roller coaster was the worst experience of his life, he wasn’t exaggerating. The twists and turns, the loops, only made the nausea so much worse than it was in the car. He hid it fairly well with cheering and yelling, yet he stopped a good way through because he was too scared that bile or vomit would fly out of his mouth and onto Audrey who was in front of him. Walking off, the after effects of the coaster were hitting him hard. He felt dizzy and like he was about to throw up everywhere.

And Audrey jumping on his back with a loud giggle didn’t make matters easier. Yet he mustered through with a smile. 

“That was so so so much fun, Dimitri!” Audrey laughed loudly, Rie and Jesse trailing behind her.

“Yeah it was,” Smiling, he held his hands on her waist to set her down gently. Yet she couldn’t help but bounce. Hahnna and Ezra found their way to the group. Both of them decided sitting out on more endorphin rising rides would be best for their weak stomachs as they both had really bad motion sickness. Maybe Dimitri should join them. 

Nah. Nope. Not gonna be a pussy. Not today.

“How bout a few more rides before we go get something to eat?” Rie suggested, which was met with an agreement from the group. Dimitri remained silent, the mere mention of gross, greasy amusement park food made his stomach churn in a not so fun way. 

“Can we go on baby rides, please?” Hahnna requested with a smile and absolutely no one could say no to that girls sweet smile. Honestly, Dimitri never loved a suggestion more. 

The baby rides, as Hahnna called them, provided a really nice relief onto his struggling tummy. Every time they walked to a new ride, he’d rub small circles into his abdomen, hoping to provide more comfort. To no avail, but the heat of his hand radiating through his shirt felt lovely. 

***

This was the part of the day he didn’t want to happen. Dimitri didn’t want to eat anything, he felt so awful. While his friends were ordering food, he had every intention of paying for Rie and not actually getting anything. 

That idea received a good amount of backlash from his dear friends.

“Dimitri you haven’t eaten anything all day,” Ezra pouted, putting his hands on his friends shoulders.

“Yeah, besides, your stomach was growling like a caged animal this morning,” Rie teased, rubbing a circle into his belly. Dimitri had to hold back a groan from how nice her hand felt on his achy stomach. He watched her brows furrow, yet didn’t think anything of it. Swallowing back whatever he was feeling, Dimitri caved. He ordered chicken tenders, the lightest thing they had and what would hopefully be gentle on his stomach. 

The laughter and conversation they had while they ate was such a wonderful distraction from the pain. Though, every time he swallowed food into that absolutely pain filled belly, Dimitri could feel the ache grow and feel the bloat starting. His part in the conversation started to dwindle. Instead, he focused on rubbing his belly in smooth circles, and doing his best to not unbutton his pants in public. Though it wasn’t long before a loud belch rippled past his lips. In response he covered his mouth, a blush forming on the apples of his cheeks.

“Bless you!” Hahnna smiled, doing her best to joke around with Dimitri’s no-doubt embarrassment. Rie looked over to Dimitri, concern glazed over in her eyes. Audrey laughed, waving her hand back and forth.

“I’ll give that like an eight point five,” She joked with a smile.

“I’ll take it.” Dimitri joked.

***

Dimitri’s walking pace to the next ride most certainly slowed down, and the only one who noticed was Rie, who kept her speed low to match Dimitri’s. When she was this close, she could hear how angry his tummy was. It was gurgling loudly. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, sliding her arm across his waist. He leaned into her, grateful for the balance she was providing. “Something not agreeing with you?”

“I’ve felt so sick all day, honeybee,” Dimitri admitted, running his hand across his bloated belly. 

“Sweetheart! Why didn’t you say anything?” She gasped. “Sit out from this next ride Dimitri, now.” Dimitri shook his head, getting in line for the ride against Rie’s will. 

That was the worst mistake Dimitri made on this day. Everyone had their endorphins rushed due to so many loops and turns, but all Dimitri felt was the urge to yak. They were all talking and laughing, but all Dimitri could hear was white noise. He spotted a trashcan and that was it. That was the end for our smooth as butter Dimitri. Instantly, Dimitri began to vomit. The little he ate coming right back up along with bile and water.

“Oh my God, Dimitri,” Jesse yelped, running to his best friends side, a cool hand running down his back. This only helped everything come up easier. “What the Hell, man?” 

“Dimitri are you okay?” Audrey asked, running to his side. Her hands felt up and down his stomach, feeling the bloat. “Oh, Sparky you’re so bloated.” Dimitri couldn’t respond, the vomit coming up his throat prevented any words. Tears began rushing down his cheeks. “Don’t cry. Oh sweetie, don’t cry.” When Dimitri pulled away from the trash can, his hands felt numb and he slid onto the floor, groaning in absolute and utter pain. 

“How long have you been sick?” Hahnna asked, kneeling in front of him.

“All day,” Was his hoarse response, hand raising to wipe his lips with the back of his hand.

“Baby,” Jesse huffed, pushing Dimitri’s bangs out of his sweaty forehead. 

“I’m so sorry Audrey,” Dimitri choked, and he felt like crying more. He ruined this day for Audrey. “I didn’t want to ruin this for you.”

“You didn’t.” Audrey hushed him, cupping his cheeks. “Rie will you please take him back to the dorms?”

“Like I’d do anything else,” Rie smiled softly down at the sickly boy in front of her.

***

The car ride home was silent. Dimitri was curled in the back seat, trying to sleep but, like earlier, the bumps in the road made him feel so much more sick. She lead him back inside, and lay him gently on the couch. This was all in silence. She grabbed the heating pad, plugged it in and laid it on Dimitri’s aching belly. It was still so bloated, even if it was empty. Kneeling beside the couch, she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Feel any better?” Rie asked.

“Slightly,” Dimitri breathed. “I still feel like my stomach was wringed out but,” sighing he curled into the couch. “My tummy hurts.”

“I know,” She cooed, rubbing circles into his lower belly, not covered by the heating pad. The doors to the common area opened and the group rejoined Rie and Dimitri in the common area. Audrey held a giant teddy bear in her arms as she walked in, Jesse with ginger ale.

“Hey,” Audrey smiled. “I’m so sorry your sick, sweetie,” She sighed. “So I got you this bear. You’ve been so sweet with what happened to me. The least we can do is take care of you.” Jesse set the ginger ale on the table.

“This is for when you feel a little better. Just to get something in your system,” Jesse offered, arms crossed. Dimitri smiled.

“Thank you guys, I appreciate this but,” Dimitri burped in the back of his hand. “Can I just take a nap out here?”

“Of course you can!” Audrey beamed. “But expect a load of belly rubs and cuddles from us when you get up!” 

“I’m looking forward to it.”

[snickletastic]

Babysitter {Damian Wayne Imagine + Jason Todd and Reader}

warnings~none

summary~ this takes place after I’m Pregnant, which I wouldn’t say is mandatory to read before this, but i still recommend it :) damian has to take care of the reader and jason todd’s son, tommy. but-damian has no clue what a toddler is even like.

a/n~first off, thank you all so much for 300 followers! it means the world to me!! also, i got this story idea from @cas-backwards-tie! and i have to be honest here, i don’t know too much about little kids, so if a couple things are off about a 1 year old, sorry about that. i did my best to google what a toddler is like but i might be off by a bit. anyways, i hope you guys like this!! (damian is supposed to be around 15 in this btw)

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Jason said in disbelief as you were leaning into the car, unbuckling your son.

“Will you relax already? Damian said that he’d be happy to babysit Tommy, and frankly, he’s the only person available right now,” you said, raising the toddler out of the carseat. 

Jason crossed his arms and pouted, “I don’t trust him with my child.”

“You are a child. Now come on, grab the diaper bag and let’s go,” you said, bouncing Tommy up and down.

Truthfully, you weren’t really sure how Damian would deal with a one year old. But, Dick was in Bludhaven and Tim was far too busy with school. Bruce wasn’t even in the country, and he had dragged Alfred with him. And Barbara? Well, Barbara was going through a hard time right now. Damian would be your last choice to watch Tommy, but hopefully he could pull through on this one. And honestly, you were surprised that he even agreed to do this.

“This is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had,” Jason complained as the three of you stood outside of the manor doors. He knocked sluggishly and continued to pout.

You rolled your eyes and patted Tommy’s head as you held him. The doors opened and Damian greeted you, “Hello, Y/N,” he nodded, “Todd.”

Jason scoffed, “Demion.”

“Thank you so much for doing this, Demi-I mean Damian. It really means allot to us,” You said as you walked into the manor.

“He is my nephew, after all. I suppose I shall keep my family happy,” Damian said with his hands behind his back.

“Well you know you can always call us if you have any questions or problems. Everything you need is in the diaper bag,” you smiled, “We need to get going now.”

You gave your son a kiss and Jason followed. Then, you handed him to Damian, who clearly had no idea how to hold a child. He held the baby away from his body and made a face, “He has an odor.”

You laughed and Jason frowned, “You’ve never taken care of a baby before, have you?”

“Oh, please, of course I have! It was…in my training back in the league.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised.

“…No.”

You sighed and explained to Damian the most basic steps to watching a child. Changing a diaper, feeding, playing, and safety. 

“He shits himself 5 times a day?!?” Damian said in absolute disbelief.

“Unfortunately,” you took Jason’s hand to examine the watch on his wrist, “We have to go! We’ll miss the train. We will be back tomorrow morning to pick Tommy up,” you said before opening the door, “Call me if you have any questions, and refrain from killing our son.”

You ran out to the car, but Jason stayed behind to have a word with Damian, “If anything happens to my kid, I’m going to strangle you.”

“I’m extremely capable of taking care of a toddler. How bad could it be?” Damian shrugged as Tommy crawled past his right foot. Jason groaned and started to walk out the door, shooting Damian one last glare before leaving. As soon as the door shut, Damian scratched his head while watching the toddler chew on a potted plant by the coat rack.

He walked over to Tommy and squatted down, “Hello, small child.”

The toddler waved at Damian as he continued to gnaw on the plastic leaf. Damian laughed and gave the child a pat on the head, “This won’t be so bad.”

“He won’t stop crying, Dick. I don’t know what to do. I gave him a piece of steak and he started to cry even more,” Dick freaked out on the phone. His once white shirt was covered in stains that he couldn’t even identify, his hair was pointed in different directions, and he lost one of his socks.

“You tried to give the child steak?” Dick said in disbelief over the phone, “You’re joking, right?”

“What do I feed it?” 

“You feed him baby food, that mushed up crap in a jar. Didn’t they put some in a diaper bag?” Dick lectured.

“…I hadn’t even thought of that,” Damian said as he hushed the crying baby who was sitting on the couch, covered in A1 steak sauce, “Thanks, Grayson.”

“Wait-” Dick said, but Damian hung up the phone. He grabbed the diaper bag and started to search through it. There were bottles and toys, “Ah! Baby food!” Damian picked out one of the jars.

He opened it and went to the kitchen to get a spoon from the drawer. When he got back, Tommy was no longer sitting on the couch.

“Shit!” Damian shouted as he put the baby food on the coffee table, “Where did you run off to?” He started looking everywhere, under the couch, inside of the cushions, behind the TV stand, but the kid was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, God…Oh Go, what do I do?!?” Damian pulled his hair. It’d be an idiotic idea to call you and Jason, they’d never let him watch Tommy again. He ran all over the house trying to find the toddler. Could he climb up stairs? Damian wondered.

He checked behind curtains and under beds and on top of the fridge, but the kid was gone. He finally dialed his phone in shame and called you to admit he had lost your child within the first 5 hours of babysitting him.

“Hey Damian. Everything alright?” you answered.

“No. Not at all, Y/N. I….I have something I need to tell you.”

“Oh God, what happened?” you asked, fearful of the answer.

“I lost-” Damian started, but then he heard a loud noise come from the trash can.

“You lost what, Damian?”

Damian quickly ran over to the trash and looked inside, finding Tommy eating out of an old pudding cup, then he laughed awkwardly into the phone, “I lost a bet! I bet with Tommy that he couldn’t poop twice in an hour, but he did!” Damian made up.

“Oh, you had me scared for a second there,” you said in relief. Damian could hear Jason’s voice in the background asking what happened.

“Y/N, I must go now and…feed Tommy. He seems hungry.”

“Well, alright. Call me again if you need help with anything,” You then ended the call.

Damian lifted Tommy out of the trashcan and placed him on the counter, “Don’t you ever pull anything like that again! You had me worried sick!” He scolded the toddler. 

“Oughhh, what is that awful stench?” Damian wretched, “Did you? Oh no..” He sighed and grabbed a diaper from the bag, then grabbed dishwashing gloves and a mouth mask. After he put everything on, he slowly opened up the diaper.

“Ma allaena!” Damian cursed as he threw the diaper away. 

After he changed Tommy’s diaper, he sat on the couch and put the toddler next to him and put the TV on. He figured that a childrens show would be the best choice, but when he put the Bubble Guppies on, Tommy looked less than impressed. So, he flicked through the channels, watching the toddlers reaction to the different shows. Finally, the baby smiled and pointed at the television when it got to some house hunters TV show.

“…Really?” Damian groaned, “Of all the shows.”

For the next 5 hours, Damian and Tommy watched about ten episodes straight of some show with two brothers changing houses, “That is the absolute ugliest rug I have ever seen in my life,” Damian argued with the TV. The baby cooed in agreement. “These people have despicable taste, don’t they?” Damian asked Tommy, who again cooed. 

“Maybe it’s time for bed,” Damian said while looking at the clock on the cable box.

“No!” The baby shouted.

“Do you want a story? A lullaby?” Damian asked while rubbing his eyes. The baby nodded at the word lullaby. “A song? Do you have a specific one you like?” Damian asked him. The baby shook his head no. “Does it have to be in English?” The baby shrugged, probably not knowing what English even is. Damian laid down and brought the toddler towards him, so he was sitting on his chest. Then, he sang him a lullaby in Arabic for a few minutes, trying to make him sleepy.

The next morning you and Jason barged in the front door. Damian wasn’t answering your calls or texts, and you were worried about what might’ve happened after the odd phone call from the evening before. When you both walked into the living room, you found the coffee table covered in popcorn, ice cream, and baby food. Three or four binkies were all over the floor, and Jason accidentally stepped on one.

“Damn, what happened here?” Jason said worriedly.

You walked towards the couch and found Damian snoring quietly with his arm around Tommy, who was laying on top of him. 

“Oh my God,” you whispered and smiled, “How cute!”

Jason walked over and looked down,and laughed quietly, “Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Damian woke up at the sound of Jason’s laughter, “Hello,” he said in a raspy voice.

“Hi, sleepyhead. You warm up to Tommy?” You smiled.

“Just a tad,” Damian said while rubbing Tommy’s back.

“Good! Maybe you could do this again next weekend,” you clapped your hands together.

Damian grunted and pulled the couch pillow over his head.

I’m Pregnant 

masterlist   requests are open :)

[dansphlevels]

Hungry

Summary: You can still suffer from eating disorders even if you're a boy, even if you're an adult, even if you're married and in love and even if you have a daughter. Themes: fluff, light angst, parent!phan, established relationship, eating disorders

Length: 4.5k words TW: eating disorder, body image issues  Dan always wanted to have kids. When he was little, he figured he'd get married to a woman and they'd conceive naturally, and when he was a bit older, he decided he wanted to marry a man and adopt.  Ten years, four moves, and a wedding later, Dan was laying in bed with his husband Phil, saying he wanted to start the adoption process. "You sure bear?" Phil asked. "Do you want to wait until you're a little better?" 

 "No," Dan said immediately. "I just... I dunno Phil! I feel like this is just the right time, you know? We're young-"  "You're young." Phil corrected.  "You're only thirty," Dan teased gently. "Perfect age for a parent."  Phil smiled, a little dreamily. "Imagine if we did it though. Having little girls running around the flat."  "Or little boys," Dan added. "Or both. We could have a full nest."  They both laughed lightly, letting it dissolve out naturally.  "Hey Dan?"  "Yeah?"  "Do you think the kids would be upset about having two dads?"  Dan smiled. "I think they'll love having two dads. Have you met us? We'll be awesome parents." He scooted a little closer to Phil, smiling slyly. "You'll be a great daddy."  "And you'll be a great dad."  Dan crinkled his nose in distaste.  "...you'll be a great daddy?" Phil tried again. "Is it weird for us to be both called daddy?"  "I was thinking Papa," Dan whispered.  Phil beamed. "You'll be a great Papa." ---  Audrey was born that October. The adoption process took a long time, and it was two more years before they were carrying their daughter through their doorway.  Over the next two years, they worked hard on every aspect of their lives. Phil worked harder at his job as a radio presenter for the BBC, and with his new motivation, his show climbed the charts until it was one of the most listened to in all of BBC1. Dan worked hard too, growing a name for himself. He was an events host, and though his schedule was irregular, it paid decent money, and he loved doing it. It wasn't stress free- but he loved it.  And together, they poured all they could into taking care of their daughter.  Unfortunately, Dan wasn't always as good about caring for himself.  They'd had Audrey for about 22 months when Phil confronted Dan. "Have you been feeling okay lately?"    "Oh, you know how it is," Dan responded, rushing to set the table. "Work is stressful. Scheduling is impossible. They want me to host this... parade thing? It'd be announcing the floats as they came past, and I'd get to be on tv, but the details are a nightmare."  Phil nodded, processing the words one by one. "So, you're stressed?"  Dan looked up, giving him a slightly confused smile. "It's no big deal. I'm always a little stressed."  Phil nodded, walking over to where Dan was, but he kept on moving around- fixing the silverware, tucking in napkins underneath the three forks, setting bowls of food on the table. "Bear..."  "Oh no," Dan joked, "Phil's getting out the serious voice. I better be careful, don't want to get in trouble with Daddy-"  "Are you starving yourself again?" Phil interupted, his voice completely devoid of humor. Dan stared at him slackfaced. "Because if you are, I want to help you. You could start seeing that therapist again, you know, the nice one with the light brown hair?"  "I don't need therapy," Dan snapped, going back to obsessively fixing the silverware. "I don't have time for it. And besides, we have a family now. We have a daughter to look after, I'd much rather do fun things with her than pay for an overpriced shrink who'll just tell me what I already know anyways."  As Dan continued to mess with the plate settings, Phil walked over and hugged him from behind, squeezing gently. "What do you already know?" he whispered, burrowing his head in his partner's neck.  Dan wetted his lips uncertainly. "That... that I need to destress."   "And what'll you do to work on it?"  "Learn to manage stress better. I don't know, I'll take less jobs or something. Audrey, dinner!" He called.  Down the hallway, the little girl ran- well, it was almost a run. The four year old was still in that stage where she could walk, but she still ran with her legs too far apart for good balance. It was kind of funny, actually, but Dan only encouraged it. "Run as much as you want," he said. "Running's good. It'll keep you healthy." Then he tickled her stomach, and they both giggled in delight.  He didn't tickle her stomach this time. This time, when Audrey appeared through the hallway, Dan just smiled. "Sup' buttercup."  "Fine number nine!" she called back, giggling. Phil didn't get their strange sort of greeting, but it was endearing nonetheless.  As soon as Audrey said her first words, she loved to talk. Her old caretakers said that she was always the loudest baby, babbling constantly. Eventually, those babbles morphed into words, and even sentences. She spoke more clearly then most four year olds- now she just had to work on her running.  "Can I have lemonade?" She asked, running over to the fridge.  "Uh uh, you had some earlier." Dan comanded, his parent voice in full effect.  Phil smiled into his husband's neck, still hugging him from behind. "Oh, come on," he murmured, quiet enough that his daughter couldn't hear. "It's just lemonade."  "Lemonade is eighty percent sugar," Dan complained. "I'm just trying to look out for her."  "Pleeeeeeeeeeaassseee....." their daughter whined.  "She's just a kid," Phil reminded Dan. "All they eat is sugar anyways."  "Okay," he relented, finally. "One glass, that's it."  "Yay!"  Phil laughed as she pulled the jug off the shelf, almost dropping it with how heavy it was in comparison to her little body. He let go of his husband, striding over and helping her. "Here, let me pour it."  "I can do it!"  "Okay okay, just... slower, careful Audrey... slower... slower... okay, stop! Stop!" He grabbed onto the jug, pulling it upright before the cup overfilled.  "Perfect!" Audrey decided, grabbing onto her cup and running over to the table.  "Audrey!" Phil warned, but it was too late. The little girl had already spilled on the floor, the sugary liquid sloshing around the almost full cup and spilling over the sides. "Dan, help me-!"  But Dan was too busy laughing. ----  They were a family of movie watchers.  Audrey loved Disney movies. Her favorite was The Lion King. They owned it on DVD and on Amazon, and she'd watched it at least a couple dozen times, but still she always asked to watch it.  Sometimes, after she went to bed, her daddies would watch movies of their own, but they promised they wouldn't watch Lion King without her. They liked horror movies, but they had to keep the volume down. Phil was always worried that she'd hear the movies and get traumatized, but Dan would reassure him that everything would be fine.  In their relationship, Dan was Phil's rock. He was his structure, his love, his everything.  Which is why it was so hard when he started getting sick.  Every weekday, Dan made them all breakfast in the morning. Phil had to leave early for his job, so they let Audrey sleep in and ate breakfast together. Dan would get out a bowl and pour Phil his favorite cereal, or maybe some toast with butter and marmelade. And of course, some coffee. Phil had to have his morning coffee.  Dan usually wouldn't eat, saying he didn't like eating so early. He'd eat with Audrey, he promised. Then Phil would head off to work with a quick kiss, and Dan would go on his phone until Audrey woke up. Then, he'd make her breakfast- her tastes were similar to her Daddy's, only she also liked yogurt- and he'd watch her eat. Audrey didn't ask why he never ate. When kids are little, they often exist within a small bubble, and don't always notice things that don't affect them directly.   On weekends, Phil made a fancy breakfast of pancakes, just the way Dan liked them. Sometimes he'd surprise him with breakfast in bed. Dan always loved it.  One day, Dan was putting together a puzzle with Audrey, when Phil walked into the room, looking upset. "Dan?"  "What's up?"  "Can we... can we talk?"  Audrey had stopped putting together the puzzle, looking in between her two daddies.  Dan smiled. "Sure." He turned to his daughter, making a silly face at her. "You think I'm in trouble?"  She nodded vigorously, eyes wide. "What'd you do? Is Daddy going to give you a spanking?"  Dan laughed. "I dunno. Daddy, are you going to give me a spanking?" He batted his eyelashes, until he noticed Phil's face. He wasn't laughing.  Dan turned back to Audrey. "How about you keep putting together the edge pieces, and I'll be right back, okay?"  She pouted. "But Papa..."  "No complaining," he chastized, though not harshly. "I'll be right back."  They walked into their shared bedroom, and Dan turned to his husband, expecting him to say something. But instead, Phil kept walking, over to where the trashcan was. He picked it up, and carried it over to Dan, tilting it so he could see inside.  Dan felt a lump form in his throat as he looked at the contents.  "You could've told me if they didn't taste good," Phil started, keeping his voice down.  Dan nodded, sighing. He wouldn't make eye contact. "I'm sorry Phil."  It was quiet for a few long moments. Both knew what was left to be said, but neither wanted to say it.  "When was the last time you ate breakfast?"  Dan started saying something, then looked up, meeting Phil's gaze. He closed his mouth. "I haven't for a while."  "What do you have for lunch?"  "Audrey usually eats leftovers, or sandwiches, quesadillas, maybe mac-"  "That's not what I asked." Phil's voice was smooth and firm.  Dan closed his eyes, breathing in shakily. "I eat vegetables. Fruit, sometimes."  "Like salads?"  Dan winced. "Like... some celery."  It was quiet again. "Papa!" Audrey called from the other room.  "I'll be out in a minute!" He called back, before looking at Phil desperatly. "I'm dieting, okay? I'm just trying to be healthy."  Phil's heart seemed to crack at his words. "Bear.... what you're doing isn't healthy."  "I'm just going to loose a little weight," Dan promised, stepping in closer and resting their foreheads together. "Just a little, okay?"  Phil caught his hands, holding them in his own. "You're perfect," he whispered. "Absolutely perfect."  Dan smiled back, though it was a little forced. "But I'll be more perfect if I'm skinny." ---  Phil did his best to help Dan, but there was only so much he could do. By the time Audrey was five, it had only gotten worse.  "There's Olaf, and there's Sven, who's a reindeer, and there's Anna the princess and Elsa the queen..." Audrey was saying as she pulled down her normal pants, and replaced them with her pajama pants, slightly off balance. "And Kristoff and Hans..."  "Sweetie, we know. We watched the movie with you, remember?"  Audrey nodded, only half listening. Staring out into space, she pulled off her daytime shirt, tossing it in the general direction of the laundry basket.  Dan caught his breath.  "There's also the Duke of Wesselton," Audrey recalled, not moving to put on her pajama shirt.  "Really?" Phil teased. "I thought he was the Duke of Weaseltown."  She scrunched up her face, grinning at her daddy. "No! Stop being silly!"  "I don't know," Phil said, pretending to think. "I think it's weasel town. Or maybe it's badger town? Dan, what do you think?" He looked over, but Dan wasn't listening. Instead, he was staring at his daughter's bare torso- not her chest, but her stomach. Phil didn't know which was worse. "Dan?"  "I'm pretty sure it's Wesselton," he muttered.  Audrey, appleased with being right, went back to talking about Frozen, with no mind to whether her daddies were listening or not. "Dan," Phil warned.  "What?" When Phil didn't respond, Dan looked away from his changing daughter, back to his husband. "What?"  "You were staring," Phil warned.  He shrugged. "Oops. Just thinking."  "About our daughter's stomach?"  Dan blinked, realizing how obvious he'd been. "No! Just... I don't know, should we stop feeding her so much sugar? She's getting a little..."  "Dan," Phil warned, his voice dropping a few octaves. "I want you to think before you say anything that could possibly imply our daughter is anything less that perfect."  Dan's mouth gaped open in shock. "I- I- "  "I want to read Pepa!" Audrey decided. "Daddy, can you read it to me?"  Phil put on a big smile and walked over to Audrey's bed, sitting on it as she snuggled under the covers. "Which one?"  "The ballerina one. And the mud one. And the truck one, and-"  Phil laughed, cutting her off. "I'll read one, okay Sweetie? Then maybe you're Papa wants to read one too?"  Audrey made puppy eyes at Dan. He laughed, trying for a natural smile. "Of course baby." ---  Dan scrolled on his laptop as Phil got ready for bed. Their first London apartment had only one bathroom, and you had to go through a hallway and down some stairs to get to it. In their new flat- flat number four- there were two medium bathrooms. It was a little over budget, but in the end they were glad they did it. Phil liked being able to shave in the morning without having to move a bunch of headbands and barrettes out of the way.  Phil came out of the bathroom with his teeth brushed and his glasses on, plopping onto the bed next to Dan. "Found any good mem-ays?"  Dan snorted. "No. Just doing some research."  Phil smiled a little seductively. "Research? Thinking of doing some more online purchases? You know, I was thinking, we get Audrey so many new toys, we should get some more for ourselves."  Dan laughed. "It's not that kind of research, you spork. I'm doing parenting stuff."  Phil's eyebrows shot up. "Parenting stuff? The Internet doesn't know anything Dan, we're the experts on parenting. Why both Googling it when you've got me?"  The edges of his lips were turned up at the joke. At best, they stumbled their way through parenthood. But Dan didn't laugh.  He was still looking at the screen, scrolling through something. Phil bit his lip. "Can I look?"  "No."  "Is it a surprise?"  Dan hesitated. "No. Just... just boring parent stuff. Research. Like I told you."  "Ooh, Danny-boy's hiding something. What will it take to get it out of you? I wonder if..." he snuck his hand along Dan's waistband, just barely letting two fingers poke underneath it.  Dan kept smiling pleasantly. "I'm not reacting. Here, I'm done. Closed the tab, now we can play." He set the computer aside, and leaned forwards, pulling Phil into a kiss.  Phil, however surprised, kissed back. It was an affectionate kiss, not too fast, but not too innocent. Passionate enough to be rousing; pleasant enough to be calming.  Phil climbing onto Dan, straddling his lap as they kissed. He reached over, tilting the computer towards him, and clicked 'search history'.  Dan realized what he was doing too late. "Aw, Phil, come on, I was just-"  Phil read the title of the last closed tab. Then he closed the laptop, and climbed off of Dan's lap silently.  "I was just curious. Phil- Phil, don't leave! I'm sorry, I was just looking!"  Phil was halfway to the door when he turned around, all humor gone. "'How many calories do five year old girls need'?" He spoke, saying the title of the search with so much distaste it made Dan cringe with shame. "How dare you." He turned around, and walked out the door.  "Phil! Wait, come back- oh, dammit." Dan stood up, more flustered than he wanted to admit. He took a few steps towards the door before changing his mind, going back to the laptop and deleting his search history. "Phil!"  When he walked into the lounge, Phil immediately shushed him. "Quiet, you'll wake Audrey."  Dan immediately lowered his voice. "I'm sorry."  But Phil just shook his head. "You're not sorry, you're sick. I don't know if I'm comfortable with leaving you in charge of our daughter anymore."  Dan was lost for words. "But Phil-"  "I'll call in sick tomorrow," he decided. "We'll figure the rest from there. Go to bed, Dan."  "Will you be there soon?"  Phil shook his head. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight. We can talk tomorrow." ----  Phil was a good dad. When he was younger, he'd wanted to be a vet, but couldn't stomach some of the technical stuff. But he still had that compassion within him, that natural ability to care for others. It made him a good lover and a great father.  He got up the same time as always, phoned in sick to work, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. There, Dan stood in wait, with a bowl of cereal and cup off coffee ready to go.  Phil stopped, and looked at him. "I thought you didn't like coffee."  "This is for you," Dan said, slightly confused.  Phil shook his head. "Nah, I'll make my own breakfast. How 'bout you sit down, and start eating? I'll grab my food and be right there."  Dan didn't know what to say, but Phil didn't give him a chance to say anything, walking over to the fridge and getting out the ingredients. Slightly in a daze, Dan found himself walking in a trance to the table, sitting with the food in front of him. The cereal looked back at him expectantly.  "How'd you sleep?" Phil asked, taking a stab at basic decency.  "Like shit," Dan replied honestly. "You?"  "The same." Phil brought his food over to the table, sitting in the spot where he usually sat. "How's your cereal?"  Dan hadn't touched it yet. "Good," he lied. "I like these frosted ones."  Phil raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?" He watched Dan, waiting for him.  Dan looked down at the cereal. His stomach churned. "Your toast?"  "Good. Come on Dan, just eat it. It looks good, doesn't it?"   It looks like 180 calories, Dan thought miserably. And 3 grams of fat.   "Dan, please." Dan looked up and met his husband's begging eyes. "You can have some of my toast if you want. Less sugar."  Slowly, Dan reached over and accepted the plate Phil had offered him, trading it with his cereal bowl and cup of coffee. The knife Phil had used to spread the butter and marmalade was still on the plate, and Dan used it to scrape off as much of the condiments as he could.  He looked at Phil, and took a bite. "Mmm. It's good."  Phil looked sick. ----  Getting Dan to eat lunch was as bad, if not worse. He claimed he wasn't hungry, then that he didn't feel well, then that he didn't like stir fry, which was just a lie. It was leftovers from the other night, and Dan had practically licked his plate clean then. But then again, he'd only gotten a small portion, and by the look of it Dan had been skipping all meals except dinner.  It was also harder because by then, Audrey was awake. "Is Papa not feeling well? Should I take his blood temperature?"  She'd been into playing doctor lately, and carried her little toy first aid kit with her everywhere. Dan had told her time and time again that you took someone's blood pressure, not temperature, but she didn't seem to care.  "Papa's just feeling a little under the weather," Phil promised. "He needs to eat so he can get strong again."  Dan forced a tight smile. "Don't worry about me, sweetie. I'll be fine."  "You should eat, Papa," the little girl decided. "That way you're get big and strong."  "It's 'you'll', not 'you're'. And your Papa's already big, he doesn't need to get bigger."  Audrey shrugged. "No. I think you should get bigger. Then you could be a giant! Or like Clifford!"  They laughed, and for a moment, Dan longed for his daughter's innocence. If only he associated getting bigger with Clifford. ---   Phil did his best, he really did. But there was only so much he could do.  Dan got better at hiding it. He filled his dinner plate up with lettuce and celery, and other empty vegetables with little nutritional content. He told Phil that he ate breakfast and lunch too, and even managed to convince Audrey. Then, when Phil got home and asked her if her Papa ate all his food, she said yes and started chattering excitedly about everything they'd done that day. For a while, Phil believed her. Then he took out the trash- a responsibility that was usually Dan's- and found all the food Dan had supposedly been eating.  "I'm home!" Phil announced, coming through the front door.  "Daddy!" Audrey squealed, sprinting over to him from where she'd been playing on the carpet. "Papa and I went swimming and there was a boy there who was a shark and we played and I dumped a bunch of water on his head and-"  Phil listened intently to his daughter's rambles, carrying the grocery bags in his hands over to the kitchen counter, and setting them down with a grunt. When his daughter stopped for air, he quickly interjected. "That's great Sweetie! Where's Papa?"  "I'm here!" Dan announced, walking briskly from his room. "Sorry, I was getting changed. Mind if I head to the gym? I want to go on the treadmill for a while." He gave Phil a quick peck on the lips, already grabbing for his wallet.  Phil blinked, taken a bit aback. "I was going to make dinner. I thought we could... spend some time as a family. Play a board game, maybe?"  "That sounds great!" Dan reached for the door knob. "I won't be long. Then we can play a board game!"  Phil grabbed his arm, pulling him into him. Dan bumped into his chest, eyes widening in surprise. "And eat dinner," Phil added, his voice low.  Dan could hardly hide his discomfort. But he managed to throw on a smile. "Yep. Sounds good. I'll be back soon."  He quickly left, without sending back any words of goodbye.  Phil didn't quite know what to do. Finally, he went into the kitchen and made dinner; low fat, low sodium, with lean meat and hearty vegetables. Something to tell Dan he could support his quest to be healthy- if that's what he really wanted. Honestly, Phil just wanted to make something that Dan would eat.  He finished cooking, and played with Audrey for a little while, checking his phone every so often. No texts. Surely Dan would tell him when he was on his way?  Time passed slowly, yet it kept passing, and still no text, and no Dan. Phil swallowed a lump in his throat. "Let's set the table, okay?"  Audrey immediately ran to the kitchen, grabbing the silverware. "I want the dinosaur cup! Then can we eat?"  "No, we're going to wait for your Papa to get home."  "I'm hungry!" She whined. "I want to eat now!"  Phil glanced at the clock. 7:06pm. "Audrey Katherine Lester, I told you to be patient. Do you need a time out?"   She was on the brim of tears, shaking her head slowly, face red with embarrassment.  "Then be patient, okay? How about we play hide and seek?"  "I don't want to," she said, a little more respectfully. "Can we please eat?"  Phil looked at the clock again, then at his phone. No text. "Yeah, okay. But when your Papa comes home, we're going to sit down and eat with him, okay? That way we can all... talk about our days."  Audrey was happy with this deal. But as they ate, and then played games, it became more and more apparent that Dan was going to be home after Audrey's bedtime.  Phil checked his phone constantly. Could he be hurt? Is something wrong? He didn't allow himself other thoughts, worse thoughts. What if he's not coming back?  Finally, fifteen minutes after Audrey's bedtime, Phil pulled out his phone and clicked on Dan's name in his favorites list. It rang, and rang, and-  "Daddy, the phones ringing," Audrey called from his room.  Phil hurried over and stared at the phone on Dan's nightstand, ringing away. Phil canceled his call, and a moment later, the phone stopped ringing. 

  Phil ended up putting her to bed, on his own. “Why isn’t Papa here yet?”

  “He’s just a little late. Don’t worry Sweetie, he’ll be home soon.” At least, Phil hoped. Had he said something wrong? Was it possible that Dan... that maybe he... maybe he wasn’t coming home?

  Audrey snuggled up against her pillow. “Tell Papa to say goodnight to me when he gets home. Okay Daddy?”

  “Okay Sweetie. Goodnight.” 

  Phil left her room, closing her door and turning off her lights like she always requested, and went to the living room and sat on his couch. He clutched his phone in his hand, and kept checking it, even though he knew Dan didn’t have his phone. Maybe he’d try to contact him some other way. Or maybe... maybe someone else would call him. Surely if something had happened, and Dan was hurt...

 Dan came home about half an hour later. Phil was still sitting on the couch.

  “Hey Phil, sorry about-” Dan stopped when he saw Phil’s expression. “Um... yeah. I meant to be home earlier.”

  He obviously didn’t. He knew just as well as Phil did what Audrey’s bedtime was, and would never miss it without letting her know. 

  Phil stared at the wall in front of him. “If you love me you’ll stop.”

  “If you love me you won’t give me ultimatums.”

  Phil almost didn’t want to look at him. “Your daughter is in her room. She wanted you to say goodnight to her.”

  Dan swallowed. “Okay.”

   Audrey was already asleep, but she woke up when the door opened. “Papa!”

  Even though she’d already been read to by Phil, Dan ended up reading her two stories. And then they talked for a few minutes, and then he tucked her in, kissed her forehead, promised he loved her, that there were no monsters under her bed or in her closet, and that he was going to be fine. She made him promise that he'd stop being sick. She made him promise that twice.  When Dan finally left her bedroom, far later than he should've, he found the dining table set with two plates of food, and a few candles. Standing in front of it was his husband.  "They're not scented candles," Phil announced."Somehow, I thought that'd be gross for eating dinner with."  Dan swallowed hard. "Good idea.” He didn’t sit down.

 Phil walked around the edge of the table, until he was standing a few feet in front of hios husband. “Were you at the gym that whole time?”

  “No,” Dan replied quickly. “I, uh... got lightheaded. Ended up going for a walk downtown. It’s really beautiful, there are lights in all the trees, and there’s street performers... I’d really like to take you and Audrey there some time.”

  “It sounds nice,” Phil agreed dryly. “You can’t do that again.”

  “Phil-”

  “Stop. I need you to hear me, and actually listen for once. You can’t... you can’t do that again.”

  Dan looked at his feet. Phil looked at his feet. 

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I need you to get better.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  “We have a daughter now. It isn’t just you and me anymore, we have a daughter. And I can’t be the best dad I can be for her if I’m too busy making sure you’re okay.”

  “I don’t need you to-”

  “I won’t have to if you start taking care of yourself.”

  Dan inhaled sharply. He took one step forwards, then another, until he was leaning against Phil’s chest, his expression covered by his husbands shirt. “I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

  Phil bit his tongue. “I made dinner.”

  “I’m sorry Phil.”

  “I don’t want your apologies if they don’t mean anything.”

  “I... I want to get better.”

  “I want you to get better.”

  “I love you.”

  Phil sighed. “I... I made dinner.” He pulled away, stepping slowly over to Dan’s chair. He pulled it out for Dan, and pushed it in when he sat down. The room was incredibly quiet. Phil hurried around to the other side of the table, sitting down too. "Remember our first dinner date?" 

 "At the seafood place," Dan recalled, smiling lightly. "We got bad shrimp and you threw up in the bathroom. And you still refused to leave them a bad review."  "It was a new business!" Phil defended. "I wanted to support them!"  Dan laughed.  Phil picked up his fork, spearing a piece of chicken. He looked at Dan expectantly. 

 Dan picked up the utensils experimentally, and looked down at the plate of food. It did look good, in some way. His stomach churned.  He speared some chicken, and raised his fork to Phil. "To getting better," Phil announced.  Dan smiled. He hated food, hated the feeling of being full, hated what it did to his body. But he loved Phil. "To getting better," he agreed, and they tapped their forks together.  And Dan ate his chicken. In fact, he ate most of his dinner, even complimenting Phil on the taste. As he continued to eat, and he could feel himself become full, he realized maybe it wasn't all that bad. Maybe Dan didn't have to hate eating.  If he was honest with himself, he was tired of being hungry.

Fic Masterpost / Request A Fic For The 12 Days Of Prompts!

[sickdaysofficial]

Wouldn't you like to know

sickdays 4.0 day 2: the good samaritan

fandom: yuri!!! on ice

characters: yuuri katsuki, christope giacometti, and christophe’s mystery man (erasmus/raz)

summary: yuuri gets sick while viktor is away and it falls upon chris’s… choreographer and “friend” *wink wonk* to find a way to take care of the precious, anxious, and very sick boy.

WARNING: descriptions of vomit below!

read the warning!

read the warning!

read the warning!

okay, you’ve been warned!  please enjoy the fic!

It took Raz a moment longer than it normally would have to recognize Yuuri Katsuki.  After all, the Japanese figure skater was not quite looking himself.  The bags under his eyes could be associated with anxiety over the next day’s free skate (or the fact that it was three in the morning when Raz came across him), but the unnatural color of his skin was certainly new.

“Um,” Raz tried to approach Yuuri in the most non-threatening way possible, but the younger man still jumped.  “Sorry,” Raz said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Are you… um… do I know you?”  Yuuri said uncertainly.  Raz shook his head.

“We haven’t met.  I’m Raz, Chris’s… choreographer,” he said carefully, glancing at Yuuri, who, thankfully, gave no indication of noticing the pause.  Yuuri just blinked at him and nodded slowly.  “Are you alright, Yuuri?”

Yuuri nodded again.  “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t convincing.  Raz frowned, realizing that they were standing outside of Yakov Feltsman’s room.   “Are you looking for your coach?”

The question seemed to cause Yuuri no end of confusion.  “Yes, I- I mean, no, or, well,” Yuuri’s words became more and more frantic.  He went on, incomprehensibly now, possibly in Japanese, to the point where Raz wasn’t even sure how the man was managing to breathe.  Then, quite abruptly, Yuuri fell silent.

“Yuuri?”

The Japanese skater had gone pale, and he suddenly walked away.  Raz followed, worried that Yuuri was going to hole himself up in his own room, alone, but instead he passed his own room and made a beeline for the very end of the hallway.  Once there, he picked up the small trashcan in the corner and violently vomited into it.

“Ohhhkay,” Raz said, drawing the word out as Yuuri threw up a second time.  “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Yuuri responded in Japanese, which wasn’t reassuring.  The only thing Raz could make out was Viktor’s name.

“Can you tell me in English, Yuuri?”  Raz asked carefully, just before Yuuri puked again, and set down the trashcan.

“‘m fine,” Yuuri slurred, words swaying along with his body.  “Jus- just.  Need to find Viktor,” he said.  Raz was fairly certain that Viktor was in the midst of participating in a charity skating event in Russia- quite a ways from where Yuuri was, currently, competing in the U.S. for Skate America.  Raz grimaced at the thought.  The last thing he wanted was to break Yuuri’s heart with the truth.

“Maybe we should ask Chris about this,” he said, finally settling on delaying the inevitable.  “He might know more,” Raz explained.  Yuuri hesitated, but then nodded.

At some point during the short walk from the end of the hallway to Chris’s hotel room, Yuuri’s legs had given out and Raz ended up carrying him the rest of the way.  That’s what had happened and, truthfully, it was the only reasonable explanation as to why, when Chris opened the door, Yuuri was wrapped around Raz like a monkey.

Still, Raz probably should have known that Chris would not immediately understand that.  If he’d really thought about it beforehand, maybe he wouldn’t have been so caught off guard when Chris response was one of shock and betrayal rather than of concern.

Instead, because it was three in the morning and Raz had not gotten more than twelve hours of sleep over the course of the past three days, he barely managed to avoid having his hand flattened by a slamming door.

“Erasmus, I swear, if you woke me up at 3:30 in the morning to tell me you’ve decided that I’m not enough-”

Chris was definitely on the verge of crying.

“He’s sick,” Raz said loudly through the door.  The strangled tone to Chris’s voice was replaced by a shocked one when he responded, and Raz was fairly certain that he was peering through the peephole.

“What?”

Yuuri mumbled something into Raz’s shoulder and Raz rolled his eyes.  “Yuuri Katsuki is sick, Christophe.  For the sake of all that is good, please let us in.”

At that Chris cracked open the door, still uncertain.  “Why were you with him at this time of night?”

“We were fucking each other, Chris,” he said flatly.  Apparently, Chris was not yet ready for sarcasm, because he almost immediately made to slam the door again.  This time, though, Raz was prepared and caught it, flinching at the force and very nearly dropping Yuuri, who squirmed in his arms and moaned.  Chris shot Raz a vicious look and stormed into the room.  Raz followed, yelling after him.

“Oh, come on, Chris, take a joke!”  Raz stopped at the couch and attempted to set Yuuri down, but the sick man was clinging to him for dear life, so he simply continued yelling for Chris.  “You know I go on walks when I can’t sleep!  I just-”  Raz finally squirmed out of Yuuri’s grasp and whirled around, heading for the bedroom.  “I ran into him and-”

He nearly ran into Chris, literally.  “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for Chris’s hand, only to realize that it was already in use.  “Is that… a thermometer?”  Raz asked.  Chris grinned slyly.

“You huge ass,” Raz grumbled.

“Thank you,” Chris said, smirking and kissing Raz on the cheek before walking briskly back to where Yuuri was curled in a ball on the couch.  “Now, let’s see what we can do about your fever,” he said.  Yuuri, who was asleep, did not respond.  Meanwhile, Raz was still somewhat shocked.

“Was that all an act?”  He asked, asldkfjasdf

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Chris said, throwing Raz a side-eyed grin.  Raz groaned softly, careful not to wake Yuuri.

“Chris,” he whined.  “I was seriously worried that I’d hurt you!”

Chris’s smile faded minutely.  “I’m fine,” he said, somehow stubborn and vulnerable at the same time.  Raz narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, but just then, Yuuri sat up, leaned over the edge of the couch, and puked all over the carpet.  He shuddered, vomited a second time, and then, for the first time that night, seemed to notice Chris.

“Hey, beautiful,” Chris said.  Yuuri blinked and frowned, searching the room until he found Raz, who waved.  Then recognition sparked across his face, and his gaze whipped back to Chris.

“Where’s Viktor?”  His voice was raw from stomach acid and Chris’s expression morphed to one of sympathy.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”  Chris said, trying, as Raz had, to delay telling Yuuri the unfortunate truth.  This time, though, Yuuri was having none of it.

“Where is he?”  Yuuri asked, tears welling in his eyes already.

“Chris…”  Raz cautioned, aware of the other man’s tendencies toward bluntness.

“He’s about nine hours away, flying,” Chris said, validating Raz’s concern.

Yuuri immediately started sobbing.  Chris immediately offered a warm smile and a warmer hug, which Yuuri eagerly accepted.  “It’s okay,” Chris said, petting Yuuri’s sweaty head without any hesitation.  “We’ll take care of you until Viktor can take over, alright?”

Raz smiled.  This was what he loved about Chris.  This hidden and yet unquestionably brave warmth which was inside of him.

“You should find him something more comfortable to sleep in,” Raz suggested, smiling even more at Chris’s surprised expression.  “I’ll clean up this mess and meet you guys in the bedroom when I’m done.”

Walking in to the bedroom to find Yuuri sprawled and asleep on top of Chris was possibly the least surprising part of the night, and Raz couldn’t help but chuckle at Chris’s lazy but pointed smile.

“I get it, I get it- this is your revenge on me for earlier, huh?”  Raz whispered, climbing into the bed next to Chris, who pinched his cheek.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The phrase was spoken fondly, this time, but it reminded Raz of how harsh Chris had been earlier.  I’m fine, he’d said.  Just like Yuuri.  Even though…

Erasmus, I swear, if you woke me up at 3:30 in the morning to tell me you’ve decided that I’m not enough-

“Chris,” Raz whispered, staring at the ceiling as if the building itself were his audience, rather than the person next to him.  It was easier that way.  “Christophe, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking, earlier, but I should have known better than to joke like that.”

Chris was silent and Raz wondered if he’d fallen asleep.  Then a warm hand brushed Raz’s cheek and he turned to see Chris smiling faintly at him.

“It’s my fault, too,” Chris said quietly.  “I should have been thanking you- you and I both know that I would die at the hands of my best friend if I let anything happen to his precious fiancé,” he smirked, glancing at Yuuri.

“He is pretty, though,” Chris said, continuing in a sort of melancholy tone, “and not nearly as petty as I am.  I wouldn’t have blamed you, if-”

“Never,” Raz said, taking hold of Chris’s hand and squeezing, making sure that Chris knew what was real.  “I would never do that to you, Chris.  I’ll promise you that again and again, if it makes you feel better.”

A handful of seconds passed in which Chris and Raz both listened to each other breathing.  Chris spoke first.

“I love you,” he said.  Raz squeezed his hand.

“I love you, too.”

————————————————————————————————————————-

find more of my writing: @casper-wants-a-cat

[princessofthedarkrealm]

Stroke of Midnight- Chapter 3 (Pennywise x reader)

The rain had lasted all through the night and continued on to the next day. It was a Saturday, so you didn't have to go to work. Unfortunately that meant sitting around the house, which just made it worse for your paranoid, sleep deprived brain. There was no way Pennywise had been with you in your mom's house the night before. It just wasn't possible. And the balloons? It was just too much. By mid-morning you had decided you had driven yourself crazy long enough. You called the Denbroughs to make sure they were home. Uncle Zach was at work, but Aunt Susan was home with the boys. Aunt Susan told you Bill was sick—a perfect time to bring him the book you had bought him over a week ago.

You grabbed the book where it had been nestled on the small bookshelf in your living room, threw on your blue raincoat, and headed out the door. You couldn't remember if Bill already had The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, but it had been a decent price and you knew Bill wouldn't complain.

You drove down the rain drenched streets towards your Aunt and Uncle’s house. You were totally lost in thought when you saw a big yellow object on your left down the road. You squinted your eyes at it.

“What in the world,” you mumbled.

As you got closer, you saw that it was a boy in a yellow raincoat crouched down in front of a sewer drain. You slowed down to a stop and rolled down your window. Raindrops pelted the inside of the car door.

“Do you need any help?” you called out.

The boy turned and glanced towards you. His face was partially obstructed by his yellow hood, but he looked very familiar.

“Georgie?” you called again.

“Y/N,” he said in a downcast voice.

The inside of your car was starting to get wetter, including you.

“Georgie, what are you doing out here?”

“I lost my boat. Bill made it for me.” His little voice was so distraught it broke your heart.

“I’m sure he can make you another one, honey.”

“But this one was special,” Georgie whined.

You were starting to feel desperate. “Georgie, please get in. It’s pouring out here. You know Bill’s not gonna be mad.”

Georgie lowered his head in defeat. Then he jumped as if startled by something. He stood and turned towards you. In his hand was a paper boat. You stared in shock. How had he gotten it? You didn’t see him reach down into the drain, and even if he did, he would have had to have Inspector Gadget arms to reach it. He ran towards your car and you reached back to unlock the door for him. You quickly rolled up your window. Your car was definitely going to have a little smell to it once it dried.

“Now. Happy?” you asked Georgie once he had settled down.

“Uhhuh.” Georgie nodded eagerly. “I didn’t think he was going to give it back.”

You had just started to take off, but then slammed on your brake.

“What? Didn’t think who was going to give it back?” you asked slowly.

“Nobody. I was just kidding.” Georgie lowered his gaze sheepishly.

Your gaze shot to the storm drain. All was dark within. You didn’t even wait to see if you would see movement and hit the gas.

“Yeah you were just joking, right?” Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly and glanced at Georgie in the rearview mirror.

He nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

You took a deep breath. “It’s ok, bud.” You let out a nervous laugh, acting like you were playing along. “You did get me good though.” You glanced back at Georgie again. He was fiddling with his boat. You pulled up in front of his house.

“Hey, Georgie, can you do me a favor?”

You turned around to look at him.

“Sure,” he said. You smiled. He was such a sweet kid.

You didn’t know what to say. There was a pretty good chance that it was Pennywise he had seen in the sewer drain, but you didn’t want to scare him more than he probably already was.

“Be careful alright. Don’t go crawling into places where you can get hurt or stuck.”

“I won’t,” Georgie said. He opened the door and left. You watched him go in the house, but you didn’t go in just yet. Something really strange was going on in Derry. You didn’t know who Pennywise was or what his game was, but you were determined to find out.

******

Pennywise’s breath quickened as he listened to the car drive off. Away. He had let the boy get away. Y/N. She had been there. The boy knew her. He had let him get away. And he had let him have his stupid boat back. He was slipping up. Because of her. Pennywise closed his eyes. He could still feel the softness of your cheek, of your hair. He had to see you again. To get you alone. To talk to you. To- He felt his claws protract. He had to feed soon. He was beginning to feel weak.

“Soon, my pretty doll. I’ll see you soon. And this time, there will be no denying my presence.”

******

Cinderella defiantly stared down Lady Tremaine. "What bothers you more, stepmother? That I am common or that I am competition?"

"Why nothing about you bothers me anymore, stepdaughter." Lady Tremaine spit out the last word as if it were poison. "When the prince gets here, he will ask for Anastasia's hand in marriage. And you will still be nothing more than the servant girl."

"Then I will remain so gladly," Cinderella responded. "And someday Henry will see you for the snakes you are."

Lady Tramaine shrugged. "Royalty does not believe in divorce, dear. Now if you will excuse me..." she jingled set of keys she held. "I have a prince to go meet." She opened the door with a smirk and waved. "Ta ta." She closed the door behind her and locked it. Cinderella slowly sank into her chair. And as grief began to overtake her, she buried her face in her hands and wept.

"And... that's a wrap!" Mrs. Tunstall, the director, shouted from the front row.

You stood up as Mrs. Laura came back across the stage, key ring still in her hand and a huge grin across her face. The two of you embraced.

"Ohh you were great," Mrs. Laura crooned.

"Me?" You said as you pulled apart from each other, your own face lit up. "I wouldn't be anywhere without you. The villain makes the backbone of the show."

"Oh stop." Mrs. Laura playfully slapped you on the shoulder. "You're too modest."

She went to talk to someone and you went to find your "step-sisters". You all talked and laughed as the three of you went change out of costume and then you said your goodbyes and took off for home.

It was a little after 8, so twilight was just giving way to night. Your stomach rumbled. It would have to be a seek-and-find dinner tonight. It was Monday, so work had been busy; and theatre practice had let out late, so you really didn’t feel like cooking.

The streets were quiet except for your footsteps on the pavement. You were starting to get nervous. Usually you had loved walking home after dark, but now… Soon you reached the alley where you had seen Pennywise the other day, and stopped. Should you really pass by there in the dark by yourself? You stood, weighing your decision. That had been five days ago. If he wanted to hurt you, surely he would have done it by now. You blew a breath out through your mouth and started walking.

You were about half way down when you heard a noise behind you, like something bang against a trashcan. You turned around. You waited for a few seconds, but didn’t hear anything else, so you started on your way again. This time you heard a rustling sound close by. And then another sound behind you. You turned around and gasped.

A man stepped out from a dumpster. You whirled around as another vaulted over the chain length fence to your left. You started backing up the way you came. As you did, you glanced over your shoulder and saw a third man coming behind you from that direction. You were trapped.

You turned to face the dumpster man, and the one behind you grabbed you. You screamed and started trying to fight him off.

“Ooh she’s a feisty one, isn’t she?” dumpster guy leered at you. “Looks like we’re gonna have fun with her.”

The one holding you covered your mouth and tightened his grip. Dumpster guy came at you and started pawing at you, your chest, your stomach. You screamed against the hand over your mouth, but it just came out muffled. You moved your mouth around and finally got some leverage with your teeth and bit down. The man hollered and removed his hand from your mouth.

“Pennywise!” The name ripped from your throat before you can stop it. Dumpster guy started to pull up your shirt and you spit in his face.

“Bitch!” He slapped you across the face, making your head go sideways. He grabbed for you again and you closed your eyes. In two seconds, his weight was off of you. You opened your eyes and stared in shock. A large white figure loomed before you. He was holding your attacker up in the air, the man’s feet dangling. You watched on as the man, which you now noticed was wearing a white clown suit, grabbed your attacker with his other hand and snapped his neck. The man that was holding you let go and he and the other man at the end of the alley took off running into the night.

You started shaking as the clown turned to face you. Her mouth fell open. You had only seen that face once before, but there was no forgetting it. Pennywise. You started to back up slowly down the alley.

“Wh-why did you come?” you stammered.

“Why did I come?” He gestured to himself. “Why did you call?”

You shook your head. “You got here too fast. You were already here.”

"Pretty girls like you shouldn't be out at night. Or in the rain."

You gasped. "It was you. In the sewer drain, talking to Georgie. And the balloons. That was you too."

You could barely make out the grin that now adorned his painted face. "Is it not a custom to exchange...gifts?"

You stared at him, taken aback. "Gifts?"

"A present for a present. A picture for balloons," he said in a giddy voice. "Is that not what pretty girls want?"

You glanced down at the body at his feet. "I don't know what I want. I just know I watched you kill a man."

Pennywise's brow furrowed. "He was going to hurt you. Would you have wanted that?"

“So you’re my savior now? My protector?” you spat.

You backed up farther and he continued to step closer. “I am many things, my dear. A savior…” He let out a creepy giggle as he stepped into the light and you gasped when you saw him clearly for the first time. “…is not one of them.”

He must have been at least six feet tall. His suit was pale gray and looked very old, like from around the Renaissance period. His face was white with bright red lips and a high forehead. His head was topped with wild orange hair.

As you studied him, you saw a light out the corner of her eye. A man was standing at the end of the alley, shining a flashlight.

“Hey you!” he called.

Pennywise turned towards the newcomer. That was your chance. You turned tail and ran. You kept running and didn’t stop until you reached your house. You sat yourself on the front steps to catch your breath, your heart beating erratically.

The strange and frightening scene you just endured kept playing through your mind. And so many questions kept flitting across your brain, like a scattered flock of crows. Why was Pennywise following you? Why did you call for him in your moment of desperation? And more importantly, why did he think you were important enough to save?

@hello-helianthus

[fallen029]

Sickness and Health

It was in a slight haze that Mirajane Strauss awoke that morning. She could hear talking, off in the distance, rather loud voices, in fact, as well as what sounded like music playing. Then there was the smell of some sort of cooking (she couldn't quite place it when she was so drowsy) and the fact that, though light was attempting to stream in through the windows, it was being blocked out not by blinds, but rather some blankets tossed up over them.

Ah. She was over at Laxus' apartment.

Mmmm, she remembered too, as she snuggled deeper into his cozy purple sheets, how she'd gotten there the night before, after working all day up at the bar. It was only customary, after all; if she heard that the man was in town, it was the first place that she went.

When she was free, of course. Because she and Laxus were great together and all, but the guildhall came first. Considering he felt the same way about her and his job requests, she figured he wouldn't take offense to such a statement.

It seemed, however, that she hadn't been the only one to catch wind of his arrival back home. From the sounds of it, the Thunder Legion was out there, bothering him in the living room. And cooking for him, if she knew Freed the way she thought she did.

Shutting her eyes once more, Mira decided to give them a few more minutes alone before she made her presence known. She took up so much of the man's free time those days that, once and a while, they just needed some of their own with the man. It was, after all, only the right thing to do.

But there was more to it than that, it seemed, as she just didn't give it a few minutes. Rather, she fell back asleep entirely and didn't awake again for, at least, another hour. And then it was just as groggily as before.

She almost felt drugged, but knew that wasn't right. Just brumous. Which could only mean that she was…

Ugh.

Mira refused to accept that she was sick. Even tried to get up once, but it was too much work and she only flopped back into bed, bundling up under all the blankets then as she felt as if she were frozen. And, thirty minutes later, when she was suddenly burning up again, she only suffered through it.

She had to sweat that cold right out of her.

You know, the one that she didn't have.

More time passed as she laid around in her boyfriend's bed, trying hard to manage the strength to get up, but it just wasn't coming.

"Mira?" It was Laxus, coming to peak into the room, whispering softly as he did so. "I'dda sent one of those bozos to check on you sooner, but I didn't know if you were decent or not, and I really don't want them to know that you're- Mirajane? Demon? Are you alright?"

"No." Her voice was hoarse when she tried it out. "I'm not."

"Are you...I mean…uh...sick or something? Do I-"

"Not sick."

"Well-"

"Go away." She didn't take her head out from underneath the pillow. "Sleeping."

If Mirajane was down to broken syllables, then Laxus knew something was up.

"Hey, no, let me at least do...something." Laxus stood over the bed with a frown. He hardly got sick and, when he did, he just holed up with a bottle of whiskey and a trashcan to vomit in until he felt better. With his woman though, clearly he was supposed to try and help out in some way or another. "Err-"

"Go away."

"Mirajane-"

"Sleeping."

"If you're sick-"

"I'm not."

"-then I need to at least, like, take your temperature or something. Right?"

Damn. These are the moments that he needed the Thunder Legion. They did all of his tedious, boring things for him. The problem was, however, that though they were right in the other room, he didn't want them to know that Mira was there. He'd been able to avoid that so far (somehow; they should have been able to sense her magic; he'd yell at them for that at another time) if only because they always acted so weird about those sorts of things. It'd gotten even worse since he and Mirajane started...whatever they were doing. Then there was the fact that he just didn't want them to know that he cared so much for the woman that he was willing to, you know, examine her or whatever. Medically. Not just sexually.

It was probably for the best anyhow; if he was in a real relationship, he had to act like it.

He was going to have to get Mira's situation all figured out on his own.

"Here." He reached out then, for her, leaning over the bed to do so. "Let me, uh, feel your head, yeah? Come on."

"I'm fine, Laxus. I-"

"And I want to be sure of that. So just come on."

Finally, she moved to sit up, just a bit, blinking sleepily at him. Laxus only tentatively moved to rest his hand against her head.

"Uh...how do I know if you have a fever or-"

"Laxus, shut up."

"Well, how do I not know you're not always this hot? Huh?" Snorting, he dropped his hand. "Anyways, open wide."

"Ew, Laxus, I'm not going to-"

"Why can I not just say that in a normal conversation and you not take it the wrong way?" He made a face at her. "I gotta look down your throat."

That time, her blink was out of confusion. "Why?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "To see if anything's, like, inflamed, right? Isn't that something doctors do?"

"You're not a doctor."

"I ain't no MD, fine, but I think in all my years of life, I'd acquired some sort of doctorial-"

"Yeah, well, doctorial isn't a word, so-"

"Yes, it is."

"Doctoral is, but doctorial-"

Growling, he said simply, "If you're well enough for this, then-"

"I already told you I'm not sick. So-"

"Fine! Fine! You're not sick. I don't care then."

"Good."

"Good."

Then they both just stayed there, her sitting on the bed, him glaring down over her. Slowly, Mirajane titled her head back before opening her mouth a bit.

"Wider." He bent down too, to stare down in there. Holding up a finger, he ran a bit of electricity through it. "I- Hey!"

Mirajane shut her trap quickly. "What are you doing?" she asked, hardly opening her mouth at all as she spoke, as if fearful of him. "You can't just shock me, Laxus. You-"

"I needed light," he grumbled. "To see. Now open up. I wouldn't shock ya. And even if I did, it's weak; you're the freaking she-devil. Did you forget?"

No. But senseless pain when she already wasn't feeling well just wasn't something she wanted to contend with at the moment.

Allowing the man to peek down her throat was mostly worthless anyhow. Laxus made a very corny joke about deep throating or something ("There's your tongue, the back of your tongue, uh, wisdom teeth look okay, and hey, look, way back there is where I always hit the back of your throat"), but mostly just admitted that he had no idea what he was looking for or, honestly, even doing.

"What?" Mira croaked out. "Homegrown Dr. Dreyar can't check a simple throat?"

"I said I gathered the info over my many years," he growled. "And, shocking as this may be, woman, I've never had to look down anyone's throat before. And I can't my own, so-"

"Oh, but you're just so good at shoving things down throats, huh?" Mira was sitting on her knees then and was glaring up at him. "I bet it's your fault I'm sick."

"My- Hey, what are you implying, woman?"

"You just got back from a job," she pointed out. "And then I came over here and we… And now you've given me a disease. Thanks a lot, Laxus."

Growl. "You are so ungrateful. I let you come over unannounced, let you sleep in my bed, didn't say a damn thing about your stupid morning breath which, by the way, is deadly, Mira. I mean, seriously."

"Yeah, from the disease you passed on to me."

"If I have a disease, why am I not sick? Huh?"

"Duh, Laxus, you're just the carrier." She rolled her eyes. "idiot."

"I'm not an idiot." He huffed. "You're an idiot."

"How?"

Narrowing his eyes, he leaned over to press his forehead against hers. "To even accuse me of that."

"Oh, whatever."

"I mean, come on, Mirajane. The women I sleep with are definitely all clean. And definitely this past time." Then he lifted his head and stared at the sky. "All though in that one town, there was that one that kept complaining of, like, she had parasites or something-"

"Laxus-"

"I didn't sleep with anyone else, demon." He shook his head. "And you know that already, so stop acting otherwise."

Mirajane only shrugged her shoulders a bit. "I don't know what I know."

"And anyways," the man went on, "if anything, I should be mad at you."

"What?"

"You heard me." He shook his head at her. "Lying all in my sheets, contaminating them with your clammy sweat and disgusting germs. You're the carrier and the infected, woman. Tryin' to pass the buck ain't gonna work. No way." Then, arms crossed over his chest, Laxus looked off, as if thoughtful. "If anything, I'm owed an apology."

It was Mira's turn to narrow her eyes. "If you really think I'm so sick, Laxus, and am just contaminating the place-"

"You definitely are."

"-then I'll just go. I'll-"

"Oh, shut up, woman." Now she was annoying him. When she moved to get up, he none too gently forced her to lie back down. "You know I ain't kicking you out. Just...relax, okay. No more games. You're sick. Now just rest up some, huh? I'll bring you a glass of water and some-"

"I don't want anything." Mirajane sniffled then, watching him as he headed out fo the room. "Honest. And I have work soon, so-"

"Oh, Mira."

"What?"

"You're not going to work and you know it."

"I am too."

"You can't."

"Can so."

"You deal with food preparation and beverages. If you're sick, you shouldn't be there. It's best, actually, if you're not. That's sorta common sense, woman."

Mira only moaned back at him. "I'm just a little under the weather, is all. I'm not, like, ill. Not really. Not hospital caliber ill. Which means I'm more than capable of going into work."

"Demon-"

"My father worked every day before his death until he just couldn't get out of bed any longer," she said simply. "And he died of a very devastating virus. So-"

"Didn't you tell me that your father also got your mother sick because-"

"Because she loved him so much that she cared for him, Laxus, while he was dying," she said with a frown. "But yes."

"Surely you see how this proves that was a bad call, right?"

"He didn't get anyone, but her sick."

"You told me that was because you guys cropped for a living and he just worked the fields and then came home to her and that they tried to keep you guys separated from him as much as possible."

"Well… The crops never got anyone sick."

"Mirajane-"

"I'm going to work." She put the pillow back over her head. "Eventually."

"Oh, woman." Laxus only moved to pull some blankets up around her. "I'm at least bringing you water. And something to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat."

"Do not."

"Mirajane-"

"Fine." She even let out a cute little sigh that he grinned over because, with the pillow over her head, she couldn't see. "I'll eat."

"Great. I'll go get you some crack-"

"I want two eggs and sausage and-"

"Is this a game to you or something?"

Sorta. A terrible one that left her feeling quite light headed and really just craving the all allusive sleep.

"Can I have eggs, dragon, or not?"

"Yeah. I'll fry ya some eggs."

"And sausage?"

That time, when he leaned down, it was to lift up the pillow just enough so he could lean in there and give her a kiss to the cheek. Against it, he mumbled, "No."

Mira only weakly shoved him away. "Boo."

Dropping the pillow over her once more, Laxus started to tell her that she needed to give him a minute, as he wanted to get rid of the Thunder Legion so that he could dedicate all his time towards her (but not in those exact words because that sounded sappy and all lovey-dovey and Laxus was neither), but was interrupted by the sounded of a sharp knock at the bedroom door.

"Laxus? We heard voices. Are you okay?"

Freed. Great.

"Yeah," he growled out. "I thought I told you idiots to clean out my fridge?"

"You what?" Mira's muffled inquiry came from beneath the pillow. She was constantly trying to tell him how to be a good friend/mentor/idol/stalkee, as if he needed lessons. "Dragon-"

"We were, boss." Bickslow. "But, uh, we kinda got bored and, well… Hey, you wanna go train with us? We were thinking about-"

"Don't open the door," Laxus growled as the thing started to do just that. Given they were having a conversation, the seith had no doubt assumed such a thing was alright. "You-"

"Oh, no, boss! Are you smotherin' someone?" Bickslow opened the door further, shocked to find a woman's body there, beneath a sheet, with a pillow over her head. "Shit. Was it a hooker? Shit. Shit. Ever! Get Laxus' big carpet from the study. We're gonna have to- Oh. Mornin', Mrs. Boss."

Mirajane had sat up rather suddenly, holding the sheet to her bare chest as she made a face at the two members of the Thunder God Tribe that were standing there. Bickslow had his tongue hanging out, grinning widely as he stood in the doorway and Freed, behind him, had a hand covering his eyes.

"This," the letter mage said as Laxus came over to shove them both out, "is a bad time. Sorry, Mirajane. We didn't realize-"

"That you and boss were into asphyxia." Bickslow cackled at the word, just a bit. "But it makes perfect sense considerin'- Oy, boss! How come you're only hittin' me? Freed was botherin' ya too!"

"What's going on?" Ever was rushing towards the bedroom as well then. "Wha-"

"Get out! All of you! I got shit to do," Laxus growled though he left the room with them, slamming the door behind him.

"Like Mirajane?"

"Bickslow, I'm going to strangle you!"

"See? I knew you were into- Ah! No, Laxus, knock it off! That hurts! Ow!"

Mirajane grabbed another pillow then and held it over her head as well. Why had she gone to Laxus' apartment again?

Through the muffled sounds of the ensuing argument between Bickslow and Laxus, Mirajane somehow managed to drift off. She didn't realize this fact until, some time later, the pillows were shoved away and she was blinking up at the face of Laxus.

"Your breakfast, demon."

It was with a moan that she sat up, quite slowly in fact, and croaked out, "I can't go to work, dragon."

"Oh, I know." He didn't even gloat about it. Just passed off her plate of eggs and toast to her. At the sight of the sausage, she about vomited. It was far too greasy, in actuality, than it had seemed in her mind. "I told Freed before he left to inform Lisanna or Kinana that you weren't going to be showing up. Whichever was up at the bar."

"Mmmm. You're too good to me."

"Well, I did infect you, after all."

"After all."

Laxus got into bed with her then, sitting there silently, wiggling his toes, just a bit. He did that a lot, Mirajane had noticed, when he was unsure of himself.

"Hey, dragon?"

"What?"

"How come you went ahead and made me sausage?"

"Stupid woman." More toe wiggling. "I was always gonna make it. But if I tell you that, it takes the fun outta moments like these, yeah?"

She only stabbed at an egg, nearly losing what little was in her stomach from the day before at the sight of the yoke bursting.

"Dragon?"

"What?"

"I…I think I'll just take crackers."

"Yeah." He only reached over then, to his bedside table, where he must have set the package of them while she was still sleeping. "I know."

She gave him a look as they traded. Laxus only dug right into her breakfast without hesitation.

"I think maybe I just have, like, one of those bugs that you only get for a day or something," Mirajane informed him as she hunkered back down into the bed, back to him, munching on the cracker all the same.

"Or somethin'," Laxus remarked back, mouth full of sausage. "Or you could just be sick like a normal person and need to rest for more than a day."

"Doubt it." Sniffling a bit, she said, "I bet I'll be better by nightfall."

But she wasn't. She stayed in bed, actually, for the majority of the day. It was only around eight that night that she felt well enough to go into the living room, where she only fell into the couch with a miserable sigh. Laxus was out training (he'd made sure she was fine with this before doing so, because he weirdly thought him hovering around made her feel better; it didn't), leaving her alone in his place.

Which, usually, she'd revel in, as it gave her a chance to snoop around. It was, after all, what Mira was best at. And most interested in.

At the moment, however, she only felt incredibly tired. Which was odd, considering she'd slept the whole day. Mirajane did not, at all, enjoy being sick.

She was lying around, putting as much effort into trying to fall asleep as she was trying not to, when the front door suddenly opened. Glancing towards it, she smiled a bit at the sight of Laxus.

"You're up," he remarked as he came through the door. "Here. I brought you some soup."

"Soup?"

"Mmmhmm." Carrying it over, he handed her the container of it before rushing off to get her a spoon. "That's what you do, right? When someone's sick? You get them soup?"

"Sure," Mirajane agreed as, with her stretched out on the couch, Laxus only went to lift her feet before sitting under them. Giggling a bit, Mirajane grinned when he moved to massage them for her. "Why are you being so nice?"

"'cause you're sick." Laxus glanced over at her. "If you don't want me doin' nice stuff for you, woman-"

"No, no." She wiggled her toes. "Go on. And mmmm, this soup's good."

"Should be, what I paid for it. You know what that damn restaurant wanted for some soup to go? I mean, hell, who even goes out and orders soup to begin with? They should've been happy that I was takin' it off their hands, if anything."

"Well, I'm glad, anyways, that you bought it for me."

"Almost just said never mind. I mean, seriously. You should have seen the bill. Sure, I had a steak and a beer or three and a baked potato and all that before I got your soup, but come on! That bill was outrageous. I-"

"Lax, if you didn't want to get me anything-"

"Oh, no, I did." He even nodded a bit. "I just want the recognition for it."

Mirajane only huffed. "Dragon."

It was his turn to sigh as, while he was massaging her foot, she jerked away from him a bit. "Hold still, will you? I'm tryin' to take care of you."

"I think I'm going to take a shower," Mirajane told him as she languidly spooned up some soup. "Or a bath, maybe." Sniffle. "I have to get ready to open tomorrow."

That got him to stop messing with her foot (he was more annoying that soothing, but Mirajane wasn't going to tell that to him). "Mirajane, you can't be serious."

"Why not? I'm well enough to be out there, eating soup, talking to you."

"You're still all sweaty and you sound horrible and-"

"I'm fine. I've gotten better in just a few hours. By seven tomorrow I'll be-"

"You're so crazy, woman," Laxus chided. "You do know that your life isn't defined by that hall, right?"

"Of course not. But I take pride in it regardless."

"You serve beers."

"To very capable and accomplished mages."

"You're a very capable and accomplished mage!"

"I don't get your point."

Laxus took a deep breath, held it in for a moment, before going back to messing with her feet. "Do what you want, demon. Just eat your soup, huh?"

She ate half, at least, before giving the rest to Laxus to put in the fridge. When he came back, she was already curled back up, facing the back of the couch, and snoring softly. Sighing, Laxus decided not to wake her for her shower as he headed off to his room, figuring she'd come to bed later.

He was lying in bed, numbly watching an old movie on the lacrima that he'd seen a thousand times when it finally happened. Mirajane came stumbling into the room before falling face first into her half of the bed with a groan of defeat.

"Dragon?" he heard weakly muffled against her pillow as he only sat there, lacrima in his lap, staring over at her.

"Yes?"

"I can't go to work tomorrow."

"I know, baby." Reaching over, he gently patted her on the back of the head. "You just rest up here, huh? I'll buy you some more soup." Then he paused. "From somewhere else though. Because that place is crazy if they think I'm going to pay-"

"Not now, Laxus." Turning her head to the side, she stared over at him. "Please."

He only nestled down into the bed before nodding at his lacrima. "I'm watchin' somethin', yeah? So don't croak during it. Huh?"

And then he pulled the covers up around her (and him by proxy, even though he was actually more than a bit warm) and kissed her head before getting back to his senseless movie. And, when he could tell that it was keeping her up, he claimed that it was boring before turning it off and going to bed as well.

Even though he wasn't the least bit tired.

Mirajane tossed and turned most of the night though, frequently tossing off the covers in anger about how hot it was in there and then pulling them back up whining about how frozen she was. Laxus was miserable as well, if only because she was galling the hell out of him, and he thought about mentioning that, you know, her fever was only going to continue to break and come back continually and that maybe, gee, she should grow the hell up and get over it, but then he remembered that she was his demon and he was supposed to...love her...err…

The point was, she was killing him and there was nothing he could do other than lay there and try his hardest not to kick her outta bed, if not the apartment, because, hey, he didn't put up with that kinda crap.

At around four in the morning, Laxus only pressed a kiss to her cheek and told her he was going to train super early and he'd be back later to check on her. At that point Mirajane had stripped down to her panties in an attempt to cool off and only groaned back something about how she'd see him later.

And then Laxus got the heck outta there. Before she contaminated him or something. He was nearly certain that was going to happen eventually.

So he spent the morning jogging and training and then going up to the hall to take some glances at the request board. Then he stopped off and got Mirajane some tissues, some medicine (literally just random medicine as, not being a man of science, he didn't believe in that kinda shit and thought his body could just heal itself, but was tired of Mirajane feeling so bad, so just got some generic shit to help her through whatever was going on), and some more of that damn soup from that same damn place (seriously, he was being robbed blind), before heading back to the apartment.

"Mira." He kicked the door shut behind him as his arms were full. "I got you shit. I mean, stuff. Since you don't like the word sh- Nope. Not gonna say it. Where are you?"

He'd found the bedroom door open, but she wasn't in there, nor the kitchen. The bathroom was empty too.

Where was his demon?

As he was going to drop her things in the kitchen and put the soup away, he found a note taped to the fridge door. It was in Mirajane's silly, feminine handwriting and was very concise. Jsut said that she'd gone home, taken the leftover soup, and she'd be seeing him when she felt better.

"This is bullshit." He crumpled up the note and tossed it to the ground. "I let you germ up my bed, buy you stupid shit- And yes, I say shit, Mira. Shit, shit, shit! You can't just leave me!"

Hmph.

Didn't she know that he was in the middle of nursing her back to health? What kind of idiot leaves in the middle of that?

Did she not know how rare it was for the Laxus Dreyar to give enough of a damn about you that he would actually go out buy over priced soup? Soup that he wouldn't even buy for himself because it was just so outrageous? Huh?

That was the first thing out of his mouth when Lisanna opened up the door over at the Strauss house.

Blinking, she only said, "Um, Laxus, maybe you could have just bought soup somewhere else. I mean, it's not like-"

"I wanted to get Mirajane soup from that place because I was already at that place! And the second time just because I was comfortable there by that point. With their serving size of soup and… I'mma level with you, my waitress was really hot and-"

"Laxus-"

"But the point was Mira liked the soup so I bought more. But where is she? Huh?"

"Uh, in bed right now," Lisanna said as, with a sigh, she took a step back. "But I'm sure she's heard you out here having one of your stupid dramatic meltdowns over nothing-"

"I do not," he told her harshly, "have dramatic meltdowns."

"Laxus, last month when Mirajane turned you down for a date, you-"

"She canceled on me last minute and I had train tickets and play tickets and-"

"Elfman got hurt on a job!"

"I'm sorry, is she sleeping with him or me?"

"Gross. On both accounts."

Growl. "Look, girlie, I don't want to talk to you right now, so-"

"Dramatic."

Louder growl. Then, taking a deep breath, Laxus said, "If I'm dramatic-"

"Biggest drama queen ever."

"-it's only because your sister makes me this way. Constantly. I was in the middle of caring for her, you know. And-"

"She said that you acted like a jerk about her being sick and left before sunrise, grumbling under your breath about how annoying she was."

He blinked. "That's not how I recall that going."

"Of course not."

"I- Hey! Where are you going? I'm talkin' to you!"

"Uh, try back to my room? Mira's in hers if you wanna go bother her while she's, you know, sick."

"I'm not bothering her." He continued on through the house, grumbling to himself. "I'm caring for her."

Damn. Was it that hard to just care for someone? That's why he never fucking did it. Because it was always a hassle. Oh, Laxus, you made your papa a nice gift for his birthday? Too bad he's not there because he's too busy out on jobs, trying in vain to be an S-Class wizard and plotting against your gramps who, yeah, is plenty loving, but super busy too and then, what? You found your mama a pretty flower out at the park? That'd be nice if she wasn't dead after being a completely horrible person and never caring and oh, look. You're alone.

...But the point was, he'd been plenty nice to Mirajane and she was a butt for leaving without telling him.

Err, whatever.

When he popped open her bedroom door, Laxus was expecting Mirajane to be up. He had, after all, been pretty loud when he was having his...non-dramatic non-meltdown.

But upon barging in, he found her passed out on her bed, pillows and blankets thrown around it as her face rested straight on the mattress, drooling just a bit. Which, while gross, was also a pretty big tip off just how sick she was. She literally never drooled.

"You take some medicine, babe?" he whispered to the sleeping woman, going to set all the things he brought for her down on her dresser before picking up the pill bottle that was sitting on nightstand. Glancing it over, he said, "Oh. This is what I shouldda gotten. Good call, I guess, not waitin' around on me. I kinda just bought a lotta junk, I think. But...I brought you soup. And...I brought me."

Going over to the other side of the bed, Laxus moved to get into it as well, grabbing one of the haphazard pillows before pulling the sheets back up around both him and Mirajane. And then he sat. And sat. And realized he kinda stank. He should have showered.

"Uh, demon? You gonna...be awhile? Sleepin'? I read the back of your pill bottle and it said it would conk you out for at least eight hours, so I'mma go catch one. Huh? And then maybe you'll be up. I hope."

He took his time too, in the bathroom adjoining Mirajane's bedroom. It was kind of a deal breaker to him staying over at her house. No way he wanted to have to share a bathroom with Elfboy.

It was only once he was all clean that Laxus went back out there in only a towel, finding Mirajane to still be just as passed out as before. Heading over to her dresser, he glanced in there to find something of his. She had a habit of washing anything he left over there. Which, of course, meant he left a bunch of stuff over there so she'd wash all of his stuff.

He'd periodically take it back to his house to be sure she didn't catch onto his scheme (although, honestly, she'd known from the beginning what he was doing). That's also how he'd get his motorcycle cleaned after riding it through the mud (or barfing on it when his motion sickness got to him). He'd just park it over at Mirajane's, leave it there, and eventually she'd wind up washing it for him.

Yeah. Mira was pretty great.

And he was pretty much an ass for allegedly grumbling under his breath as he left her that morning. Which, yeah, he probably did. But it was coming from a place of deep love.

A deep love that wished she hadn't kept him up all night.

Laxus only slipped on a pair of his shorts that were left in her dresser and went to climb back in bed. Mirajane was snoring by that point, the only way that he knew for certain she hadn't, like, died in her sleep. Which, given his track record with things he cared about (he also had a puppy, once, when he was four that Ivan killed by 'accidentally' hitting it with a blast of some sort of magic and, wow, when he really examined his life, he was kinda lucky that Mirajane and the Thunder Legion loved him through all his fucked up dysfunctions), wasn't really out of the realm of possibilities.

A lotta things entered his life and, usually through his own doings, left them. He kinda expected it for the most part by that point.

Especially with women.

And being the only one he loved so much, Mirajane probably would have to go out that way. Jade him completely to the world.

Why was he even fighting it?

Sighing, he settled down into the bed and just stared up at the ceiling. Mirajane was always telling him he was depressive, but Laxus wasn't so sure. More just apprehensive and intelligent. Clearly, if they couldn't even get through her being sick without him driving her away, it wasn't going to work out.

Heh.

"Mmmm."

"M-Mira? You up? Or are you dying? Because if so, I've kinda been thinking a lot about it in the past ten minutes when you were snoring and it made me think about how, if you weren't, I might have thought that you were, and then I thought about how fitting that would be for me and-"

"Too much. Shhh."

"Oh. Condensed version; I'm glad you're not dead."

"Mmmm." Mirajane shoved up a bit. "Me too."

Grinning over at her, he asked, "You feel better?"

"No." Sneeze. Wiping at her nose with the back of her hand (disgusting, but he didn't feel like getting her those tissues he bought at that moment), Mirajane moved to lay against his side. "Dragon?"

"What?"

"What are you doing here?"

Letting out a slow breath, he said, "I dunno. I got home with soup and tissues and medicine for you and you weren't there and it really pissed me off. Then I came here and Lisanna said you left because I said I didn't want you there and that pissed me off, so I came to yell at you about it. Then you were sleeping and you looked so...honestly, kinda nasty and dirty, but I… I wanted to make you feel better. You're my woman. And I- Are you sleeping?"

Yawn. Then, muffled against his side, she got out, "Just about."

"Oh. Well… If I made it seem like I didn't want you over at my place-"

"You grumbled about me hogging the blanket and rolling around and that I was really sweaty and was getting you all sick and-"

"I was sleep deprived."

"Aren't you still?"

"Yeah, but I'm in the delirious stage of it now. Hence the childhood traumas relived."

"W-What?"

"Uh...Delirium. So… You want some soup? I got you some more soup. You did like that soup, right?"

"I-"

"You better have. It cost-"

"I'm going back to sleep, dragon. Before you start, just know that."

Letting out a short breath, Laxus went back to staring at the ceiling. "I got you soup, medicine, and tissues. And cough drops, which taste horrible, by the way.

"By the way."

"And, I don't know if we covered it before, but I don't do well sick," Laxus added. "So keep sneezing, puking, or snotting on me to a minimum. Alright?"

Lifting her head, just a bit, Mirajane said, "You'll be here then? For the rest of the day?"

"Yeah, demon. Of course."

"Even when I get to tossing and turning and sweating and get all...germy?"

"Definitely."

"Oh." She dropped her head again, into his side. Softly, she said, "I think I might make it, anyways, into work tomorrow, so-"

"Demon, if I'm putting up with you being disgustingly sick, then you need to accept that you're disgustingly sick and just be it without complaint. Got it?"

Nuzzling into him, she slowly mumbled, "Got it."

[andya-j]

"I know it must be hard for you, after everything that has happened, Brody. It always pains us when we have to make victims such as yourself relive such traumatic events, but please, can you help us by telling me what happened?" Brody Williams, a boy of fifteen, sat shivering, seated at a metallic table in an interview room, a cup of cheap coffee steaming up into the cold air. "It's cold," said the boy. "And dark." "Yes, I know. Sorry, but our heating's under maintenance. I could get you a blanket if you're suffering." The boy sighed. "No, no, it's fine." He slipped his hoodie back on and zipped it up to his neck. He had always been the tough jock at school, surrounding himself with friends that looked up to him, admired him. He was the cool kind, everyone said, but now he looked up at the female officer with eyes of a frightened child. She was around her late thirties or early forties, her hair brown and straw-like; she wore little to no makeup. Brody went to cup the coffee with his hands, but they were shaking so badly he feared he might spill it. He could still hear the screams, screams of fear and pain. God, the blood. So much blood. It had happened in the cafeteria. Somehow the weakling boy with the curly red hair and acne-covered skin had managed to lock all the exits, preventing anyone else from getting in or out. Brody could see it now--the machete hacking away, the limbs flying off from the bodies of the students he had known and talked to, laughed or joked with, all of them lying in pools of blood and mangled flesh and tissue. He heard the girls scream--but it was Brody Patrick Rivers was after. His eyes watered as the female cop listen to him, looking at him sympathetically. "I used to hurt him, call him names. He was always a weak little shit." The cop shuffled uncomfortably at that. "What sort of thing or things did you used to do to him, Brody?" she asked softly. "You know, like, typical stuff, I guess. Push him over, shoulder bashed him, knocked his books out of the dweebs hands and kicked him over when he bent down to pick them up. I shoved him in his locker, once. Poor Patrick was in there until the next morning." "He had been in there all night?" The cop seemed to find that reprehensible. Brody seemed distracted, fearful. "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again?" "Judy. Officer Judy, homicide." "Officer Judy, am I in trouble here?" She smiled warmly. "No, Brody. I just need to investigate what happened. That way we can seek the proper justice." "But Patrick's already dead. I told you: he shot himself with that handgun." Judy looked sad for a moment. "The whole incident was tragic; it should never have occurred. But please, tell me what else you did, or what you said other kids did to him." "Is this being…you know, like, recorded?" Judy nodded politely. "It is. Don’t worry, it is merely to get your statement. After that, you're free to go." Brody pondered, looking around the dark room. He'd never been in a police interview room before, and nor had he ever been in a police station in his little Midwestern town. "Well, you know, I once stuffed him in a trashcan--" "Wouldn’t he be a little big to fit in a trashcan?" She made a note, scribbling something down. "Well, like, we were in elementary then. He was scared of, like, being in closed spaces. What you call it? Amnesaphobic or something?" "Claustrophobic?" "Sure, something or other. A few kids thought it would be fun to put him in closed spaces like that." "Do you feel bad about locking him in a locker, when you knew previously that he was deathly afraid of small spaces?" "Yeah, I guess." Officer Judy made an almost disgusted face. "Did you not think it cruel to do that, Brody?" "It was only meant to be a bit of fun, though." "You think it was fun for Patrick Rivers to be stuffed for seventeen hours in a locker? Do you realize how terrifying that must have been?" The boy looked despondent, ignorant in his teenage attitude. "Like…I dunno." "What are you afraid of, Brody? Spiders, snakes, the dark, rejection? Maybe you're afraid of your father beating you, and feel a foreboding sense of dread every time he has a drink?" That took Brody back, and suddenly he felt uncomfortable in this dark room, where moonlight shone dimly through the cell bar windows. In fact, he was beginning to struggle to comprehend how he had gotten to the station; he didn’t remember walking in. Maybe he was just so nervous he was forgetting things. He was tired, though, and felt lightheaded, as if he were recovering from a rough night of drinking. He started shivering again. Judy pushed the coffee toward him. "Maybe you should drink this, it'll help warm you. He did as he was bid, and took hold of the cup with both hands, and sipped it. 'Damn, that tastes pretty good, actually' he thought. "Feel a little better now?" Judy said, smiling. Brody nodded, so Judy pressed on. "Tell me, why did you like to bully--or liked to watch people bully--him?" "I dunno, like, it made me feel strong, like, I guess." "How did you feel when you saw him with that machete and handgun?" "Pretty darn scared, I guess." Brody began to shake uncontrollably, slightly going into a panic attack, something he had never experienced before. "Hush now, drink some more coffee," said Judy, and he did. His nerves calmed a little. "Tell me about the massacre, if you can, please." "It was lunchtime. We were in the cafeteria. I was talking to my friends. And then I heard the screaming…the horrible screaming! I thought someone had played a practical joke on a girl by throwing a fake spider in her hair or something. But, like, when I turned around when the screaming got worse, I saw that little ginger freak with blood on his face. I thought it was another practical joke, like he was dressed in some Halloween costume, dressed like Freddy Krueger and stuff. Like, then I saw the girl with her arm sliced off, and everyone was screaming then. God, it was awful. The other kids were thundering at the cafeteria doors and emergency doors, trying to get out. But they couldn’t…they'd been padlocked. "Then I saw him, laughing as he did it, hacking and slicing away at us kids. One of us tried to disarm him, but he had a strength we never saw in him. Blood was everywhere, running down the hall like a river, bits of hacked-off flesh and fingers and bone. Then the shots came. He shot at me…I remember." Brody paused, feeling a revelation come to the forefront of his mind. "Yeah. He shot me, I remember the pain. Then someone grabbed him. God, like, I remember the look of murder in his eyes, eyes of some animal or crazy person, like. His white t-shirt was covered in blood…and I could smell him, smell his B.O. He always smelled bad, the fat dork. And then he shot himself, right in the head." Brody felt tears filling his eyes, running down his face. From nowhere, a box of tissues was pushed in front of him. "Hush now, it's all over. You have nothing to worry about, Brody. Drink some more coffee, and you'll feel better, you'll see." His left shoulder began to throb and sting. For what reason, he did not know. "Ah!" he cried. He saw black wetness seep through the cotton of his hoodie. "Looks like your wound hasn't healed properly yet," said Officer Judy. "You might need to go back to the hospital." And suddenly, he remembered. He remembered being in severe pain, panic filling the hospital, cops coming and going, shouting, screaming, his mother crying. Blood, blood, blood everywhere! "I was in hospital," Brody said. "I remember. But I don’t remember being discharged or anything." "You weren't, Brody. We had to speak to you, to understand what had happened. I need to speak with you." Brody looked fearful, confused. "I…I don’t…understand." That fear was coming back now, the fear of the cold, dark four walls closing in on him. Had he been drugged? 'The coffee!' he realized, and threw the rest of it against the wall at the side, the plastic cup lightly clattering to the ground. "Where in the hell am I?!" he screamed. "Hush now, no need to get erratic. I'm sorry, Brody, if these questions are troubling you. It's just…well, I feel for you, Brody. I have a boy around your age, and I would hate for him to go through such horrible things that you've gone through. Would you like to see a picture of my boy?" Officer Judy pulled out her wallet, took out a photo, and slid it over to Brody. When he--in his panicked state--looked down at the photo, it was a photo of Officer Judy wearing casual clothes, smiling with her arm around her son…"The hell?!" he whimpered. He saw the boy in the photo; red haired, chubby, greasy skin and covered with acne. "Patrick?!" "It is such a troubling thing to lose a son, you know," said Judy, standing up, seizing the photo, and placing it back in her wallet. "I'm sure your own mother will miss you dearly. If only she knew what a nasty piece of shit you really are. But you don’t have a mother, do you, Brody? Just a drunken dad who likes drinking and beating you." Panic stricken, Brody fell on the floor shaking uncontrollably, convulsing, bleeding from his nose. 'The coffee!' It had been drugged, as he had been drugged at the hospital. "We'll need to have a word with you about the attack, Brody," Officer Judy had said, before placing a cloth of chloroform against his mouth. The walls began to close in all around him. He felt woozy, sick, like his head was between a vice, his head being crushed. Judy had disappeared from the room. "Cry or scream all you want, it makes no difference, Brody. No one will be able to hear you in these woods." This was no interview room, just a cabin or bunker made to look like an interview room. The walls closed in on him, crushing his body, and Brody screamed in agony, his nose bleeding profusely. It leaked onto the floor were his head was. And he saw it. 'The blood! Oh, god, the blood!'

“I know it must be hard for you, after everything that has happened, Brody. It always pains us when we have to make victims such as yourself relive such traumatic events, but please, can you help us by telling me what happened?” Brody Williams, a boy of fifteen, sat shivering, seated at a metallic table in an interview room, a cup of cheap coffee steaming up into the cold air. “It’s cold,” said the boy. “And dark.” “Yes, I know. Sorry, but our heating’s under maintenance. I could get you a blanket if you’re suffering.” The boy sighed. “No, no, it’s fine.” He slipped his hoodie back on and zipped it up to his neck. He had always been the tough jock at school, surrounding himself with friends that looked up to him, admired him. He was the cool kind, everyone said, but now he looked up at the female officer with eyes of a frightened child. She was around her late thirties or early forties, her hair brown and straw-like; she wore little to no makeup. Brody went to cup the coffee with his hands, but they were shaking so badly he feared he might spill it. He could still hear the screams, screams of fear and pain. God, the blood. So much blood. It had happened in the cafeteria. Somehow the weakling boy with the curly red hair and acne-covered skin had managed to lock all the exits, preventing anyone else from getting in or out. Brody could see it now–the machete hacking away, the limbs flying off from the bodies of the students he had known and talked to, laughed or joked with, all of them lying in pools of blood and mangled flesh and tissue. He heard the girls scream–but it was Brody Patrick Rivers was after. His eyes watered as the female cop listen to him, looking at him sympathetically. “I used to hurt him, call him names. He was always a weak little shit.” The cop shuffled uncomfortably at that. “What sort of thing or things did you used to do to him, Brody?” she asked softly. “You know, like, typical stuff, I guess. Push him over, shoulder bashed him, knocked his books out of the dweebs hands and kicked him over when he bent down to pick them up. I shoved him in his locker, once. Poor Patrick was in there until the next morning.” “He had been in there all night?” The cop seemed to find that reprehensible. Brody seemed distracted, fearful. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?” “Judy. Officer Judy, homicide.” “Officer Judy, am I in trouble here?” She smiled warmly. “No, Brody. I just need to investigate what happened. That way we can seek the proper justice.” “But Patrick’s already dead. I told you: he shot himself with that handgun.” Judy looked sad for a moment. “The whole incident was tragic; it should never have occurred. But please, tell me what else you did, or what you said other kids did to him.” “Is this being…you know, like, recorded?” Judy nodded politely. “It is. Don’t worry, it is merely to get your statement. After that, you’re free to go.” Brody pondered, looking around the dark room. He’d never been in a police interview room before, and nor had he ever been in a police station in his little Midwestern town. “Well, you know, I once stuffed him in a trashcan–” “Wouldn’t he be a little big to fit in a trashcan?” She made a note, scribbling something down. “Well, like, we were in elementary then. He was scared of, like, being in closed spaces. What you call it? Amnesaphobic or something?” “Claustrophobic?” “Sure, something or other. A few kids thought it would be fun to put him in closed spaces like that.” “Do you feel bad about locking him in a locker, when you knew previously that he was deathly afraid of small spaces?” “Yeah, I guess.” Officer Judy made an almost disgusted face. “Did you not think it cruel to do that, Brody?” “It was only meant to be a bit of fun, though.” “You think it was fun for Patrick Rivers to be stuffed for seventeen hours in a locker? Do you realize how terrifying that must have been?” The boy looked despondent, ignorant in his teenage attitude. “Like…I dunno.” “What are you afraid of, Brody? Spiders, snakes, the dark, rejection? Maybe you’re afraid of your father beating you, and feel a foreboding sense of dread every time he has a drink?” That took Brody back, and suddenly he felt uncomfortable in this dark room, where moonlight shone dimly through the cell bar windows. In fact, he was beginning to struggle to comprehend how he had gotten to the station; he didn’t remember walking in. Maybe he was just so nervous he was forgetting things. He was tired, though, and felt lightheaded, as if he were recovering from a rough night of drinking. He started shivering again. Judy pushed the coffee toward him. “Maybe you should drink this, it’ll help warm you. He did as he was bid, and took hold of the cup with both hands, and sipped it. ‘Damn, that tastes pretty good, actually’ he thought. “Feel a little better now?” Judy said, smiling. Brody nodded, so Judy pressed on. “Tell me, why did you like to bully–or liked to watch people bully–him?” “I dunno, like, it made me feel strong, like, I guess.” “How did you feel when you saw him with that machete and handgun?” “Pretty darn scared, I guess.” Brody began to shake uncontrollably, slightly going into a panic attack, something he had never experienced before. “Hush now, drink some more coffee,” said Judy, and he did. His nerves calmed a little. “Tell me about the massacre, if you can, please.” “It was lunchtime. We were in the cafeteria. I was talking to my friends. And then I heard the screaming…the horrible screaming! I thought someone had played a practical joke on a girl by throwing a fake spider in her hair or something. But, like, when I turned around when the screaming got worse, I saw that little ginger freak with blood on his face. I thought it was another practical joke, like he was dressed in some Halloween costume, dressed like Freddy Krueger and stuff. Like, then I saw the girl with her arm sliced off, and everyone was screaming then. God, it was awful. The other kids were thundering at the cafeteria doors and emergency doors, trying to get out. But they couldn’t…they’d been padlocked. “Then I saw him, laughing as he did it, hacking and slicing away at us kids. One of us tried to disarm him, but he had a strength we never saw in him. Blood was everywhere, running down the hall like a river, bits of hacked-off flesh and fingers and bone. Then the shots came. He shot at me…I remember.” Brody paused, feeling a revelation come to the forefront of his mind. “Yeah. He shot me, I remember the pain. Then someone grabbed him. God, like, I remember the look of murder in his eyes, eyes of some animal or crazy person, like. His white t-shirt was covered in blood…and I could smell him, smell his B.O. He always smelled bad, the fat dork. And then he shot himself, right in the head.” Brody felt tears filling his eyes, running down his face. From nowhere, a box of tissues was pushed in front of him. “Hush now, it’s all over. You have nothing to worry about, Brody. Drink some more coffee, and you’ll feel better, you’ll see.” His left shoulder began to throb and sting. For what reason, he did not know. “Ah!” he cried. He saw black wetness seep through the cotton of his hoodie. “Looks like your wound hasn’t healed properly yet,” said Officer Judy. “You might need to go back to the hospital.” And suddenly, he remembered. He remembered being in severe pain, panic filling the hospital, cops coming and going, shouting, screaming, his mother crying. Blood, blood, blood everywhere! “I was in hospital,” Brody said. “I remember. But I don’t remember being discharged or anything.” “You weren’t, Brody. We had to speak to you, to understand what had happened. I need to speak with you.” Brody looked fearful, confused. “I…I don’t…understand.” That fear was coming back now, the fear of the cold, dark four walls closing in on him. Had he been drugged? ‘The coffee!’ he realized, and threw the rest of it against the wall at the side, the plastic cup lightly clattering to the ground. “Where in the hell am I?!” he screamed. “Hush now, no need to get erratic. I’m sorry, Brody, if these questions are troubling you. It’s just…well, I feel for you, Brody. I have a boy around your age, and I would hate for him to go through such horrible things that you’ve gone through. Would you like to see a picture of my boy?” Officer Judy pulled out her wallet, took out a photo, and slid it over to Brody. When he–in his panicked state–looked down at the photo, it was a photo of Officer Judy wearing casual clothes, smiling with her arm around her son…”The hell?!” he whimpered. He saw the boy in the photo; red haired, chubby, greasy skin and covered with acne. “Patrick?!” “It is such a troubling thing to lose a son, you know,” said Judy, standing up, seizing the photo, and placing it back in her wallet. “I’m sure your own mother will miss you dearly. If only she knew what a nasty piece of shit you really are. But you don’t have a mother, do you, Brody? Just a drunken dad who likes drinking and beating you.” Panic stricken, Brody fell on the floor shaking uncontrollably, convulsing, bleeding from his nose. ‘The coffee!’ It had been drugged, as he had been drugged at the hospital. “We’ll need to have a word with you about the attack, Brody,” Officer Judy had said, before placing a cloth of chloroform against his mouth. The walls began to close in all around him. He felt woozy, sick, like his head was between a vice, his head being crushed. Judy had disappeared from the room. “Cry or scream all you want, it makes no difference, Brody. No one will be able to hear you in these woods.” This was no interview room, just a cabin or bunker made to look like an interview room. The walls closed in on him, crushing his body, and Brody screamed in agony, his nose bleeding profusely. It leaked onto the floor were his head was. And he saw it. ‘The blood! Oh, god, the blood!’

From Horror photos & videos May 21, 2018 at 08:01PM