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marvus-xoloto · 1 year

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Can perhaps write mallek and/or lanque with a sick troll s/o who is just completely fucking miserable when sick??

So sorry I'm late anon; I wanted to finish up my last WIP before getting into another. I hope you're feeling better!! I wrote a silly little Mallek drabble FOR YOU! I am also residenting absolute evil when I'm sick, so I totally get it <3 This was a super fun lil fic to write, thanks for the prompt!! EDIT: Sorry, I missed the troll part of this ask! I really don't write that for future reference, unless it's either a headcanons only post (i.e. not fic) or canon chara x canon chara.

Osmosis Jones Was Blue, Too | G | 1426 words | AO3 link

___

It's a well known fact that an object in motion stays in motion. What they don't tell you is: an object at rest is rarely allowed to stay resting.

You, however, have found your ace in the hole, your golden ticket: the word sick? Hell, even just the implication: it always brings the conversation to a grinding halt.

POLYPA: hey * me and tegs are * having movie night * POLYPA: subs * not dubs * YOU: Sorry Polypa, but I don't think that's a very good idea... POLYPA: i think it's * a great idea * POLYPA: do you know * how hard * it is to get * teg to agree * to * subs * YOU: I think I'm getting sick :(

Bam. Nipped that right in the bud.

VIKARE: ~ Heigh-ho old chum! ~ VIKARE: ~ How fares the winds your way? ~ YOU: Not great. I feel like teeth are growing in my throat and my nose is runny and dry. VIKARE: ~ Ah, yes, the dentification of the swallow collumn. We've all been there sport chin up.~ VIKARE: ~ And my word guy have I got some advice for you! ~ MSPAR: I think it's just, you know... VIKARE ~ Hey now chum why the sudden reticence? ~ YOU: The "s" word... you know... VIKARE: ~ What on Globgolyb's shifting seas man you put that word away. ~ YOU: I'm S VIKARE: ~Cease this at once. ~ YOU: i VIKARE: ~ Skies above! You don't have to do this!~ YOU: ck :( VIKARE: ~You WHAT!~ - VIKARE'S HUSKTOP HAS EXPLODED -

Second time proves the hypothesis.

Zebruh: ♦️ Good evening, my lovely, hornless friend. ♦️ Zebruh: I saw the video of you and the Grandmaster on chitter earlier this evening. Zebruh: Might I say you managed to look raidant. ♣️ Well, as radiant as one can next to the splendor that is Marvus Xoloto? ♣️ YOU: Gee, thanks for the neg. It's not just my legs that are running... Zebruh: Ahem. ♠️ Pardon? ♠️ MSPAR: Would you like a sinus infection, free of charge? Zebruh: Depends, ♦️ which sinus? ♦️ YOU: I'm sick, dunkass

Even though he seems to be feeling particularly conciliatory this evening, Zebruh hasn't responded to you in the twenty minutes that have passed since you dropped the dreaded S word.

But, ah here's the tricky part.

MALLEK: yo; MALLEK: sup; MALLEK: hey; MALLEK: i know you = there; MALLEK: i can see you through my viewfinder; you really need to update your passwords; MALLEK: wait; MALLEK: forget i said that; MALLEK: you = uh; typing a lot; MALLEK: i have a keylogger on your palmhusk; MALLEK: that = less creepy and invasive; MALLEK: right? YOU: No, not really. MALLEK: damn it; MALLEK: well i can see you through my viewfinder; MALLEK: and you look different; YOU: Yeah? Like what you see? MALLEK: did you secretly start the cyborgization process? YOU: Yes. That is definitely what's happening. MALLEK: without me :( MALLEK: actually can you ignore the frowny face; YOU: What frowny face? MALLEK: heh; MALLEK: so seriously; what = with the new look;

Ah. How do you drop the news without halting this conversation in its tracks?

YOU: Okay. YOU: Promise you won't freak out. MALLEK: "freaking out" =! in my vocabulary babe; YOU: I have noticed that trolls really do not like this word. MALLEK: uh-oh; MALLEK: = the word "intimacy" or "self-reflection?" YOU: Self-reflection is two words, Mallek. MALLEK: so; who = it exactly that you = getting intimate with; YOU: Besides you? This box of tissues is really getting a run for its money. MALLEK: heh; nice; MALLEK: i usually use a sock; YOU: OKAY?? That is not what I meant. GOD!

If you weren't flushed already from being sick, you are now.

MALLEK: okay; i = lost now; YOU: I just want to remind you that "freaking out" is not in your vocabulary. MALLEK: that = also two words; YOU: Yes. Glad we're on the same page. YOU: I am. YOU: Not. YOU: Unsick? MALLEK: what; YOU: I'm sick, okay?? And I'm miserable and nobody seems to care. MALLEK: i wish you would have told me; MALLEK: i could have spent more time with you; MALLEK: :( MALLEK: don't ignore that emoji; YOU: Sad face. Noted. MALLEK: should i get a hold of that rustie; MALLEK: you know; the one with the shovel? YOU: Unless he's the sole provider of benadryl and chicken soup on this planet, I think we can leave Fozzer out of this one.

And like that, the theory is concluded. Mallek does not text you back. You make a few silly faces into the view finder, but even that doesn't entice him to talk to you.

Frowny face. Not noted. Sigh.

___

You only realize you've been dozing when a knock at your door wakes you up. The fatigue is like a physical thing, a weighted blanket sewn into your body.

The knocking is mostly a formality; each strike against the wood pulp sends the door rattling forward a few centimeters. This unexpected guest must be a friend.

But, as you open the door, a scream builds up in you so intense that you just. Scream. There's nothing poetic about it. It's been a long time since you've seen ET, but you do know "aliens" and "the dominant population, now in a hazmat suit" is never a meet cute.

"Who is in here!" you shout on instinct. You grab a paper cup of water and throw it at the intruder. It splashes harmlessly against their hazmat suit.

"Whoa! Hey!" calls a muffled but distinctly masculine voice from within. It gives you pause for all of about five seconds; why do they sound so familiar? Until the six foot long forceps come out.

"Get the hell," you pause to wipe your runny nose on your sleeve, and then cough for good measure, "away from me!"

It doesn't work; the forceps are headed your way. They grab you expertly by your midsection, you you simply flail around until you flop on the ground. Like a rabid fish out of water. The intruder gets in your space. You stick your middle finger up at them.

Then you kick them square in the belly.

They makes a noise like "oooaauuugh," and then "damn, you kick hard. It's me!"

Mallek unzips the front of his ventilation hood; beneath he is wearing an n-95 mask with the zig-zag of scorist. How did he get that on such short notice?

"What are you doing here?" you ask as he zips his hood back up. If you weren't out of breath from your stuffed up nose, you certainly are now after the fucking alien escape olympics.

"If I tell you, promise not to kick me again?"

"No," you say through a wry smile.

"Well then, maybe this will explain it." He sets down a lock box of some sort, roughly the size of a six pack. He fiddles with the top for a moment before it lets out a beep, and then the lid opens with an outpouring of steam. He takes the forceps again, uses them to remove the contents, and then sends them your way.

A perfect, plastic bowl of chicken soup, a two pack of pink and green sludge that you suspect is Alternian day and nyquil respectively, and a cellophane package of spoon, salt, and pepper is thrust your way.

"I'm the sole provider of chicken soup and benadryl on this planet," Mallek says, full of lumpy pride in his ill fitting hazmat suit.

Oh, he wasn't freaking out because you're sick. He's freaking out because he isn't 100% your sole provider, and also anxiously desperate to prove how much you need him.

"Nerd," you say, throwing the cellophane wrapper at him. It sails about two inches through the air before floating pathetically to the fround.

Well, shit. You're floating pathetically down, too.

You eat your chicken soup on the group, Mallek hovering over you from six feet away. Every cough and sniffle sends him lurching for the door; you make sure to do it as often as you can.

About halfway through your soup, Mallek asks, "are you going to die?"

The only part of his face you can see are his eyes, as large and shiny as porcelain plates.

Only Mallek can out-drama you regarding your own illness.

"Yes," you say. His face crumples even as you smile.

"Is the soup helping? I made it myself."

"Hm," you slurp your way through a thought. Surely, for all the mess and nastiness in his kitchen, he must have invented some super strain of anti-sickess, alien mold by now, right?

Mallek keeps staring at you with his big ol' eyes.

You smile. "Feeling better already."

#hiveswap #mallek #mallek adalov #mallek x reader #mallek adalov x reader #can you tell i jsut really wanted to write dialogue today?? lol #i did not edit this or reread it or anything so if theres typos lmk

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