junk department

Voltron Whump Week Day One: Fever

Summary: Pidge goes hiking with the squad even though she’s not feeling well. Not one of her brightest ideas, but nobody really thinks coherently when they’ve got a raging fever. For @hastalalaterkeith7152 because it’s pretty much a given now I tag you in everything you wanted some sick Pidge and also you give me consistent feedback on all my writing. thank you friend. She/her pronouns are used for pidge in this fic.


“We’re here,” Lance announced, much too joyful for six o’clock in the morning and much too loudly for Pidge’s ears. What were her friends even doing here, anyway? Oh, right. The boys had planned a hiking trip. Lance, Hunk, Keith, and Shiro all filtered into her house.

“I’ve got food,” Hunk stated, setting a picnic basket on the kitchen table. He began to rummage through its contents, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “Okay, let’ see, carrot sticks, celery, cheese, crackers, protein bars, juice boxes, and of course, peanut butter sandwiches.” He pumped a fist in the air.

“Hunk, this isn’t a fourth grade field trip,” Lance said, “we’re all grown–oohh, you didn’t tell me they’re animal crackers!”

“Moving on,” Shiro gave Lance an uncertain glance, “I’ve got plenty of water, a compass, first aid kit, extra band-aids, because Lance is a klutz–” 

“Hey!”

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deweymay  asked:

Can I add a request for a Housekeeper sequal/prequal/drabble/poem/anything for your promptathon? Thank you and congratulations!

How about a first meeting prequel? 

If you haven’t read The Housekeeper, you can do so here.  It’s not necessary to read it first as this is when they first meet.


There was a woman in his shop.

Now, that fact alone wasn’t unusual. Women came into the shop all the time but they usually used the front door, were shopping for antiques and wore more than a gold bikini.

This woman…this woman had materialized in a cloud of smoke in the back room of his shop and was now bowing reverently before him with her hands clasped over her head as if seeking mercy.

Nelson Gold did not usually have trouble mincing words, but at the moment, it was all he could do to keep his grip on the odd oil lamp he had been cleaning…the very item which just moments ago began to emit smoke which had materialized into the very odd woman before them. The half rusted antique had returned to being an innocent knick knack and while Gold was tempted to drop it to the ground, his fingers clutched it like a lifeline.

It was Neal who finally broke the silence.  “What are you wearing?” he asked, taking a step closer to the impossible woman as if to examine her attire more closely. .

“Neal!” Gold hissed as he grabbed his preteen by the back of his shirt and hauled him backwards.

Flustered, Neal tore himself away from his father’s grip tough he did not approach the woman again. “What? I’m just asking!”

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3

Sam Winchester’s Journal – Entry #80

“You know John, boys will be boys!”

That’s what Bobby told my Dad one day when Dean and I were fooling around in the middle of the piles of scrap metal and tires of Singer Salvage, playing cops and robbers, scampering over the carcasses of old Cadillacs and Chevys. Our father thought we were a bit too noisy for his taste and were preventing him from focusing on an important case but our favorite uncle (and the only one we ever knew) came to the rescue to remind John Winchester that his sons were kids and also, that’s what brothers do when they’re together: scream, laugh, play, imagine they are Indiana Jones, Han Solo or Captain America fighting evil, chasing each other with an axe and a knife in order to slit each other’s throats.

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