Continuing on the Fox and other posts. There was this one post somewhere (maybe on reddit?) about someone having a cold and deciding to just pop in a nyquil/dayquil and go to their uni lesson, while drinking a can of redbul or something (please don't do this) and ending up completely blacking out for the rest of the day and just going through the motions while having no idea what's going on.
Fox wakes up one day at 4 am (because he has so much work he has started to wake up an hour early so he can get an early start), his head is pounding, he's tired and achy and sore and cold. He doesn't have the time (or privilege) to stay in bed so he goes and takes the cold medicine he has stashed in his office for days like these. He's still tired after that, and he doesn't have the energy to go get a cup of caf, even if a hot drink sounds good, so he just decides to also pop in a stim (his CMO has banned energy drinks after the mixing episode that gave Fox a resting heart rate of over a hundred) just to get the day started.
Except. Fox sits down on his desk, opens up a datapad, and the next thing he knows is that his lying on a bed in the medbay and there is an absolute chaos around him. He's feeling sore and achy again and he really needs to sneeze, so he tugs a junior medic that was passing by at the sleeve and asks for a tissue.
This just causes more chaos, because now he's awake and that is somehow a huge deal. His CMO comes to him running and asks what drugs Fox has taken. Fox doesn't understand the question. His CMO is losing his mind. He says that it's almost 8 pm and this is the first time Fox has said anything during the whole day and now Fox is losing his mind as well. He was just at his office, ready to start his day, what do you mean it's 8 pm already?
Little by little, Fox gets the story. He had, apparently, been found at the Senate Dome in the late afternoon (Fox has absolutely no memory of this) by a very kind Senator (Fox doesn't even need to ask who it was, he knows and he knows he will be hearing about this later), and that he was absolutely unresponsive, even though he was walking around. The very kind Senator had flagged down the other Commanders (Fox is definitely going to be hearing about this later), who had brought him back to the HQ. Fox had, apparently, looked absolutely high out of his mind under his helmet, and had just been lying in the bed after being pushed down on it while the medics had tried to figure out what the fuck he had got in his system.
Fox is just about to explain that all that was in him was one (1) cold medicine and one (1) stim tablet, when some poor trooper comes running in, gasping for breath, and barely gets out that the Chancellor has been found dead. In his office. Estimated time of death somewhere late afternoon that day.
The medbay falls silent. His CMO turns slowly to look at Fox. Fox stares back. Fox gets a feeling. That feeling that only blackout drunks, or people who have blacked out for estimated fifteen hours recently for others reasons, can get.
His CMO slowly pulls a blanket over Fox, turns to others and says that it's a good thing that the Commander has been here the whole day because he has a cold and couldn't risk the Chancellor's health, since, as you know, the older you get, the frailer your immune system becomes. Everyone nods. Fox kinda wants to argue about it but his CMO glares at him, and, Fox is achy and sore and tired and his head hurts, so he decides that it's maybe for the best if he just goes back to sleep. After all, this is the first time no one is going to tell him to go back to work while sick, because, well. There isn't anyone to do that anymore, is there.
(He's never really sure what happened or if it even was him, but he can't really complain. And no one else does, either, after they find some really interesting things in the Chancellor's office while investigating the crime scene)
142 notes
·
View notes
Goro needs V as a lightning rod because if they aren’t around then all of this shit is only happening to him, and it sucks.
Like, that man has a temper, but he is so carefully polite in that diner conversation. Even though he has every reason to resent V, he seems to have entirely let it go. He's very pragmatic about his ridiculous plan for vengeance and that makes him so compelling. You can even goad him into saying FUCK YOU outright and after a little while he apologizes. Not the sort of behavior you expect from an elite Arasaka soldier who just went through such a devastating loss and is primed for revenge.
I don't know- it's just fascinating to see that he's determined to do whatever it takes to take Yorinobu out at the knees. Up to and including being polite and almost friendly to the idiot thief he pulled out of a dump. Unexpectedly subtle for an old guard dog.
116 notes
·
View notes
plug!eren sneak peek in honor of me dropping it later today
“You sure you don’t want me to walk you up?” Eren murmurs, mouthing at your jaw. The sound of his voice grounds you a little, and you giggle breathlessly as he brushes over a particularly ticklish spot.
“Told you I’m a big girl,” you whisper, “what do I need you for?”
Eren smirks, dark and dangerous. “Might need me to protect you. Who knows? There’s all sorts of awful guys who would love to take advantage of a pretty little thing like you.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhm,” Eren’s half-hooded eyes flick up down to your chest and back up to your eyes...
don't mind me popping in to throw this on the counter. eat it up besties- plug!eren officially coming in hot on the dash today
@philliam-writes i specifically need u to see this man when i share him because i need someone to commiserate in his fictional nature with me
77 notes
·
View notes
So This Was A Little More Angsty Than I Recalled...
We’re probably both going to be bruised black and blue by the time this is over, Ezra thinks, blocking a hard swing and throwing it right back. The sun was setting when they started, and it’s nearly dark now.
Sabine’s eyes glow too gold for comfort in the dusky night. Just like he has every day for the last month, he bites his tongue and holds back his questions.
Hera and Zeb won’t tell him about whatever happened to Sabine on Malachor, Kanan and Okadiah are as lost as Ezra is, and if Ahsoka knows anything, she’s not telling. When Ezra brought it up to Mom and Dad, they just told him to be there for Sabine.
He’s been trying.
Sabine has not been cooperating.
So after a month of being there with no success, Ezra gave up and decided that it was time for some non-optional friendship bonding time, but even his best efforts at finding a so-bad-it’s-good holofilm like they used to watch together, even after making some really good movie snacks, all for her, she sulked and complained the whole time, being so—so—infuriating that before he knew it, they were yelling in each others’ faces about tropes.
Ezra stopped yelling, stopped the film, took her by the arm, dragged her outside into the Atollon landscape, and said that they were going to beat the crap out of each other.
(For Mandalorians, sparring is training, recreation, and even courtship. He figured… maybe it would work as therapy, too?)
He doesn’t feel bad about throwing the first punch, because she hit back twice as hard. Ezra thinks his lip is split from a hard hit to the front of his helmet, and Sabine’s knuckles are scraped raw and bloody. They circle each other, slower now than when they started. Her hair has blown out of her braid and sticks to her face in the heat.
It’s a little bit pretty, but now definitely isn’t the right time to think about that.
Sabine rolls one shoulder—he thinks it’s where he landed a decent punch.
“Had enough, tin can?” she demands, but the tension has started to drain from her body and she sounds a little closer to playful than he thought she could ever be again.
“Not if you’ve still got that attitude, wizard girl.”
“You’re gonna regret that,” Sabine warns. She settles into a stance, rocking a little, coiled like a spring.
“Probably,” Ezra agrees.
She draws a breath, and Ezra must have blinked or something, because in the space of an instant, she’s flown at him. He can barely see her in the dark and even the night vision in his helmet doesn’t help.
But he has a split second of advantage. In pure chance, she overextends, and he slams into her, sending them both tumbling through the Atollon dust.
She’s up on her feet again right away—or at least she would be, but Ezra snags her wrist, and drags her back down, flipping over so she’s neatly pinned beneath him.
All he needs is a knife to hold to her throat and it would be a near-perfect replica of the scene in the holofilm that started their stupid fight in the first place.
Sabine doesn’t say anything. She just lies on her back in the dust, looking up at him with the eyes that always seemed to see through his mask, but now they don’t look like they’re seeing anything. He hopes she’s processing her emotions and not disassociating.
Ezra is about to move off of her when something catches his eye, and he brushes some of her hair away from her face. It clings—not with sweat, but with blood. There’s a cut on her cheek.
“Did I hurt you?” he breathes, not sure what he’s even saying, and he draws away.
Flying up, her hand seizes his wrist, gripping painfully tight, even as her sharpening gaze fixes right where his eyes would be.
Ezra swallows dryly. The look she gives him is making him feel a thousand things that he doesn’t really want to sort out, now or ever.
“Sabine?” he asks. “What…”
He trails off. Her thumb slides to the little space between his glove and his sleeve, pulling the cloth back. Never looking away from his face, she pulls his arm up and softly kisses the pulse of his wrist.
“You’re dangerous, Ezra,” she smiles, breath on his skin.
Then, like the Spectre she is, Sabine is gone.
46 notes
·
View notes