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Robin Concept by justcallmebillie
Robin Concept
A little concept art for an upcoming character Robin Mallory. I used a picture of Lindsey Stirling as a base, and outlined and colored the picture from the original to my liking. I did not draw this by hand. I'm not that good of an artist lol
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It was only two weeks into the semester and already Taylor had missed more school than he had taught due to his new ailment, whatever it was. The only good thing was that it was not likely contagious seeing as nor Angel or I had become afflicted. He was adamant we continue with class and training, yet all rendered moot as soon as he tossed his cookies, and it happened very often.

It was only after he had become helpless and desperate for relief when he agreed to visit the doctor.

“You’re sure you don’t want us with you?”

“Why would I?” Taylor grumbled as he stepped out of the passenger side of his own car.

“I don’t know, you might want some family support.” Angel shrugged.

“Screw you.”

Charging to Angel’s defense, I stepped in. “Come on, it’s not like we don’t know you inside and out already. Already had some male bonding, right?”

“Oh, well you’re welcome to have a prostate exam and a Q-tip shoved up your pee hole if you join me. Would you like that?”

I stayed quiet.

“Thought so.”

Angel handed him his wallet and a pack of crackers as if he were sending a child off to their first day of kindergarten. “Call me when you’re done?”

“Whatever.”

Angel brought him into a big hug, and I could clearly see Taylor rolling his eyes. “I just hope its nothing serious.”

More serious than we could ever perceive at the time…

As he began to walk into the army clinic, I suddenly felt guilty and somewhat worried for him. “Hey, old man!”

He stopped to send his dark glare my way.

I gave him a tight smile and a wave. “Don’t have cancer.”

He muttered a sarcastic thanks and whipped open the door, disappearing into the building.

Angel yawned, “So, you wanna grab a hot dog?”

“Absolutely, let’s get the heck outta here.”

---

“Taylor Morgan, right?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s see…” Doctor Reinaldo Dominguez flipped routinely through his manilla folder, gazing at his patient’s medical history and allergens through wire-framed glasses. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve seen you in here, which I may add is a good thing. We have you at six foot even, weight 184, body mass index, good, blood pressure a little above average, but that’s normal in this line of work. All right, oxygen, normal… So it’s nausea that brings you in today?”

“Yeah, it’s been going on for almost two weeks now.” Taylor groaned from atop the examining table, fiddling with the paper band they had put around his wrist.

“Are you still drinking and smoking cigarettes?”

“Yep.”

“How much would you say?”

“PTSD level.”

“We’ll just put you down for a pack a day, six pack a night. I know it’s taboo for a medical professional, but I do too.” He leaned in secretly, earning a fake smile from his irritable patient.

“Are you still taking the Prozac?”

“More of a weekend thing for me.”

“Now, you know the drug isn’t going to help if you’re just going to skip on doses, this pill wasn’t made for that.”

“Reinaldo, I didn’t come here for a shrink, I just want to stop feeling like I’m going to puke on everything... Can I just get some prescription nausea medication or an injection in my thigh to speed things up?”

Dominguez chuckled, “Now, now. We don’t want to go overboard when we don’t even know yet what we’re dealing with. Nurse Foy has your blood work being processed at the moment as well as your urinte tests…” He trailed off as he came to the page labeled in bold letters as Top Secret, “Now, um… Due to your previous history we did have to run a few extra tests which may seem unnecessary, but we can’t take any chances here. Have you been sexually active recently?”

“No.”

Earning this answer from the majority of his patients, Dominquez usually had to put his interrogation skills from Iraq to the test. “I’ll ask you again, when was the last time you had intercourse?”

Taylor shrugged, “I don’t know. Over a month ago, like six weeks, maybe seven…”

“Male or female?”

Taylor cracked his knuckles.

“Okay, just needed for the uh… paperwork. Ahem. Have you been outside of the states recently?”

“Yep.”

“When would you say that was?”

“About two months ago, in Africa.”

“Ah, I see. Tanzania?”

“Angola. And no, I didn’t drink the water.”

“What kinds of foods have you been eating while this has been going on?”

“Barely anything.”

“Hmm….” Dominguez scribbled on his clipboard. “Any back pain or numbness in your fingers or toes?”

Taylor thought about it for a moment, recalling that his lower back was a little sore and he had lost feeling in his left fingertips occasionally. “Yeah, actually. Yes to both.”

“Well…. I don’t want to alarm you but I think I’ve narrowed it down to a few possibilities.”

Taylor bit his lip nervously, ready for the dreaded C word to come out. “Shoot.”

“One, it could be a parasite. Africa and South America are known for them, and they can be very treatable once we find out which one it could be. Two, it could be IBS, you could have developed an irritability over time which in turn could lead to you becoming sick from the foods you have been eating, even if you haven’t changed your diet in years, or we can be looking at a case of Crohns. It’s even possible that you’ve become diabetic, but I doubt that. Have you had any other symptoms that may be out of the ordinary? Headaches, fevers, leg cramps, dizziness?”

“Lightheaded, a lot. I almost passed out teaching the other day.”

“You do spend a lot of time on your feet, some fatigue is going to come with the adjustment from field work to school. If you ask me, I’d rather still be out in the fire zone, the most fun this job gets is the occasional hypochondriac. Not that I’m instigating…”

“Doctor Dominguez!” Came a female voice from outside of their triage room.

“Ah, that should be Foy with your test results. Excuse me for a moment.” He gave Taylor a smile and collected his folder before leaving Taylor to his rampant thoughts. From behind the heavy closed door, he could hear the muffles of his doctor’s conversation.

“It said what?!”

…..

“Did you test it right?”

….

“You’re talking both urine and blood samples?”

….

“And you ran it through a second time?.... What about a third? Shit. Okay…. He’s gonna kill me….”

 

Dominguez knocked on the door before entering, fear plastered upon his face as he came to deliver the news to what would be the patient of the decade. In that moment, Dominguez seriously wished he had never entered medical school and that he had spent his final days being a florist or a beekeeper.

“Um, Mister Morgan. Can you please come with me down to our exam room, and uh…” He shakily opened a cabinet and grabbed a smock, tossing it to his brooding patient. “Put this on?”

----

He stuffed his button down and khakis into a plastic bag, and slipped on the ugly teal smock, only to be led out of triage and down into a dark room with Dominguez, his assistant, and a crew of what looked like a team of interns. He stared them down, feeling suddenly as if he were a pony on display at a petting zoo as they sat him down on the long table.

Looking over his right shoulder was another older woman next to a big monitor.

“What’s with the machine?”

Dominguez adjusted the glasses on his bridge. “Uh, just have to perform a little inside check. Make sure everything’s nice… And in order.” He coughed in his sleeve nervously, praying he wasn’t going to be the one to deliver the hotheaded man his surprising news.

“Okay. So why is your whole medical unit present?”

“Uh…. They’re interns, they--”

“Get rid of them.”

Dominguez nodded to his assistant and the seven students. “Just the ultrasound tech, please.”

Taylor watched them file out before he turned back to his doctor.

“Now, Taylor. We ran through quite a few tests. Tests for diabetes, Crohns, and all came back negative. Except for one…”

He could feel his gut sink with anxiety. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Well, that’s what we’re here to find out. Most cases like this usually means a form of prostate cancer or a hormone imbalance, and due to your history, we couldn’t risk skipping a few steps. So….” He pointed to his tech. “Fire it up.”

He leaned back onto the table, his curiosity and trepidation of the reveal causing his heart to beat out of rhythm as the tech started rubbing a gel on his abdomen. Oh, fuck… This could be really bad. I can’t handle the thought of a form of cancer, or even just a benign case. You knew smoking would lead to this eventually, and all those things Angel says about eating the steak blue rare. No, no, no…. This can’t happen, no way. You’re too busy with school and the CURE to worry about these things, plus you already have a kid to look after. You have no will…. Well, nobody responsible enough to take the will. Knowing Angel he would just sell all my things on craigslist. God, please, be IBS, be diabetes, be a simple hormone imbalance or a tape worm from Africa. Don’t be cancer, don’t be…

“…And there it is…” Dominguez pointed his trembling finger at a dark spot on the ultrasound monitor.

Taylor said a last little prayer, and turned over. “What is it…?”

“It’s um…. You’re….”

-----

“Inexperienced. You’re just inexperienced, that’s all it is.” Angel stirred his spoon in his melted strawberry icecream. “You’re not a loser just because Taylor and I lost our virginities before you, everyone has their own certain time and place, I’d say forty percent of men lose theirs during college, women too, so you’re in the prime spot to find a few chicks to give you some practice.”

“And what kind of girls am I looking for exactly?” I took a bite out of my chocolate waffle cone, lazing back into the park bench as we killed time waiting for Taylor to give us a call after his appointment.

“Firstly, you don’t want to lose your virginity to someone you’re already invested in. Sex changes things, popping your first cherry gives you an entirely new outlook on all things relationship wise because its so intimate. Find someone whose only looking for one night, get you that experience so you know what its like when you want to impress someone or have sex with someone you really like.”

“So it’s like riding the biggest rollercoaster first to get to the other enjoyable ones?”

“Pretty much.”

“Doesn’t that mean anything after it could be a disappointment if you take the big plunge at the beginning?”

“No, are you kidding me? It gets better, and especially when you do it with someone you really care about, and sometimes you can spice it up a bit with some handcuffs or candle wax, maybe a little choking, some rope, just depends what you’re really into.”

I shook my head as it filled with perverted images. “Not my thing.”

“What kind of porn do you like?”  He asked rather loudly, earning a glare from a passerby woman and her son.

I waited for them and another couple to pass by on the park trail, leaning into Angel. “I really don’t want to discuss this right now.”

Angel blew his lips like a horse, “Who cares? Everyone does it.” He stood up on the bench, and I hid my face knowing he was about to do something stupid. “I’m Angel Dimitri and I watch gay porn!” He announced to everyone within a fifty food radius, earning a few more glares and a few clapped their hands.

He sat back down, proud of himself and turned back to me. “See, now you do it.”

“Hell no.”

“Come on!” He gave me a shove.

“What do you want from me? To embarrass myself in front of dozens of people?”

He laughed, “You sounded like Taylor for a second there.”

I recoiled in disgust that we were being compared again. “What’s with everyone saying that? We’re nothing alike! I mean, yeah, we’re both missing an arm which is remarkably coincidental, but that’s it! He’s an asshole, I’m a dork, he’s withdrawn, I’m…”

“Even more withdrawn?” Angel suggested as he pushed my buttons further. I knew he was go into lecture about my stubbornness when I was saved by the bell, in this case his phone ringing. “Done already? ….Whose this?” His expression melded into that of concern. “Yeah, this is he. What happened?”

 ----

“Now, no need to be fully alarmed. He’s just fainted is all, and has already been examined and is fit to go home. He said he feels okay now, but he also said that he… doesn’t want to talk to you.” Doctor Dominguez said lowly to Angel, explaining the situation only after we had arrived back at the clinic.

“Okay…” Angel seemed more heartbroken than offended, as if his best friend had tossed their friendship bracelet into the bushes. “Did everything go okay? I mean, what’s wrong with him?”

 “Well, I’m at no liberty to disclose anything without his permission, so that will be entirely up to him.” Dominguez shrugged his shoulders offering us both an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, if you could excuse me I do need to get back to my patients…”

“Doc.” Angel grabbed his arm. “Can you at least tell me my friend’s not dying?”

It seemed as if the big latino doctor was trying his best not to laugh. “Angel, your friend is not dying. It’s if you should be worried, if my assumptions are correct.”

“Me…?”

“Now, if you could excuse me…” Dominguez offered us a tight smile and returned back down the hallway of the unit, leaving us in the lobby as we waited for Taylor to be discharged.

As if on cue, we could hear his profanities from behind us as a nurse intern pushed him in a reinforced wheelchair. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fucking fine, I don’t need your help. I can walk perfectly fine on my own!”

“I’m sorry sir, it’s just protocol…” The young intern said weakly.

“You didn’t need to strap me down! Get me the hell out of this crap!” He tugged at both his wrists and shook his feet as I noticed they had restrained him.

“Oh boy…” I muttered to myself as I noticed the two security guards in the back ground.

The twenty-something year old nurse looked up to us, exasperated. “Are you this man’s ride?”

Angel made quick eye contact with Taylor, immediately recoiling from the seething hatred piercing through his dark eyes. “Uh.. Yeah, he’s ours.”

Taylor turned his glare to the nurse as he waited to be released from the leather straps, and I looked to the blonde, “Sorry. He’s kind of a wild mustang.”

She gave me a tight, sarcastic smile as she finished undoing his binds, “Uh, yeah….”

Taylor pushed himself up, and waved feignly to the officers watching him from across the hall. Angel attempted to break the ice gently.

“Heeey, buddy. How are you feeling? Need some help?”

It was immediately rebuked. “Fuck you. If we weren’t surrounded by cameras and medical personnel I’d personally escort you to the morgue. Don’t talk to me.” He pushed past Angel as he was adamant we returned home.

“Okaaay. Well, we can go to the car in silence if you want.” Angel offered Taylor his keys as he followed him on the tarmac, me following even further behind at a safe distance.

“I’m walking home!” Taylor yelled matter of factly.

“What? No, you’re not. Reinaldo said you needed rest!”

“I don’t need rest!”

“Well, you’re certainly not walking home, it’s eighteen miles!”

Taylor twisted around, “Fine!” He snatched the keys out of Angel’s hand and smiled devilishly. “Then you are.”

Angel watched helplessly as Taylor stomped towards his truck, whipping the cab door open.  “Ed! Get in the car!” it was the first time he had even acknowledged me since we had sent him off to the clinic, and I had never seen him so furious. I felt bad for Angel, but I was in no way about to challenge Taylor at this time as I climbed in the back sheepishly. He

Taylor shoved his key into the ignition, revving the turbo diesel engine harshly, threw the gearshift into reverse and peeled out of the parking spot so fast I thought he was going to hit Angel, who jumped back in fear for his life.

Shifting the truck into neutral, Taylor yanked the emergency brake and floored the gas pedal, screeching his tires in the loudest burnout I had ever seen. A white burning cloud wafted from the tires, completely covering the image of Angel in the rearview. Taylor shifted the car to second, and the truck lurched forward, leaving our friend, literally in the dust.

 

 

Chapter 4: Unexpecting
Taylor is pressured into visiting the doctor for his ailment. Ed confides in Angel for advice on women and Taylor is told some unexpected news. 
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Mature Content


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There was something different about my teacher. At first, I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. He was frustrated, angry, exhausted—the normal, but something did not seem right about him. From the minute we packed up camp and jumped in the truck, all the way through the drive, and even at dinner, I could tell something was off.

Taylor barely talked to Angel, and whenever I would look to him, Angel was stifling a grin, trying to keep something secret through his childish giggles. I had clearly missed something at the hot springs. Maybe Angel admitted to sleeping with one of Taylor’s old girlfriends, maybe they were in the middle of a bet and Taylor had gotten screwed.

 I was definitely right about one of those things.

 ----

Chief Harold Rodney Allen rubbed his graying temples, attempting to control his fiery blood pressure from surging for the third time that week. The sixty-eight year old Chief of Operations at the KURE spent more time ogling at mountains of paperwork than he did field work, regretting his own decision to leave the active forces and become their militant leader thirteen years ago. Green Desert, White Evo, Blue Forest, and Red Canopy were few of the many operations and Captain’s militia he had to oversee and babysit, and his men were always known for being rowdy.

“Sir, Captain Morgan has arrived.” Came the voice of his lower Lt over the comm machine.

Allen pressed the red button on his black mahogany desk, “Thank you. Send him in, Lieutenant.”

A few seconds time had passed and Taylor pushed his way into the office lazily, swinging the door behind him.

“As always, you’re late.” The Chief huffed and pointed to the seat on the opposite side of the desk. “Sit down.” He commanded his younger protégé, who jumped onto the leather chair and kicked his heels up on the desk.

“You wanted to see me?” The Captain sighed heavily, as if were a chore to visit his superior in command.

“Mmm.” Allen grunted without looking up, and pushed Taylor’s dirty boots off as if it were routine. “How was your trip?”

“Lousy.”

“Did the kid like it?” He raised his eyebrow in regards to the seventeen year old he had put under this Captain’s supervision.

“After we got him drunk enough. You can thank Angel for that.”

Rolling his grey eyes, Chief decided there was no way he could actually control the batch of children posing as his soldiers. If Taylor wasn’t as liable as he was, Allen was sure he would have kicked him out long ago. “Did you at least clean after yourself, camouflage your territory?”

“Chief, duh. We learned from last time, which may come as a shock to you.”

Allen ignored the statement, moving onto his assessment. “Any biological activity?”

“Wilma, and a slightly oversized raccoon. No signs of the--Nnngh…” He cringed, pinching the bridge between his eyes.

“Oh no.” The Chief started sarcastically. “What’s wrong with you today?”

“Kiss my ass, it’s a migraine…”   

“Morgan… are you drunk?”

“Wh--No!” He looked over to the clock on the wall, “It’s 10AM!”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.”

Taylor glared at him.

“Are you hungover?”

“No—Okay-- fine, yes--fuck-- it’s just… gahh… I’m tired, I’m just—just tired, all right?”

“You really need to stop moping around like its 2020. You’re acting like you got fucked on this trip.”

Taylor grumbled, “Something like that.”

Allen rose from his chair, pointing an accusing finger at his youngest Captain. “Listen. I don’t care what’s up your ass for that matter. The school year is beginning and you and I both know how difficult it is to balance that and the unpredictable missions and leaves that might occur. Please be tidy. I’ve already had my head so far up the government’s brown eye for you that my boots are barely breaching out of its colon!”

Taylor snickered.

The Chief sighed and sat back down in his chair, reminding himself to control his blood pressure. “Don’t screw it up. You have a round of five new interns arriving at the University in six weeks, you better set a good example. You never know who else I’m going to put under your eye. Summer’s over, Morgan.  You’d better not have any infractions this year, you hear me?”

“What about Red Canopy?”

“Thirty hours a week in bio analysis, here or at your damn shack. I don’t care if you have to sacrifice your off days, thirty hours. That’s what you get for being late to my meetings.”  

Taylor barely blinked. “Can I leave now?”

“Why, do you have date with a bottle of Jack at noon?”

“Ha-ha.” Taylor slurred and dragged himself from the leather chair as he headed for the door. “Hilarious... Hey, you want me to tell your Lieutetnant to pick you up some rogaine on lunch break? Tsk, you’re really starting to thin.”

Chief shook his head in anger, his blood beginning to boil once again, “Son of a bitch…”

---

September Sixteenth, 2030

It had been three months since our final class of the summer, and three months since I had set my alarm for anything before seven. I felt groggy and zombie like, as the chirps from my alarm clock continued in loop, forcing me awake. Not remembering what it had been set for, I was more than displeased to see the time was six and it was still dark outside. The worst of all times to wake up.

Taylor looked dazed this morning as if he were struggling to rouse himself from the dead which was unusual for him. He was a morning person and a night person, in all honesty if I hadn’t seen it, I would believe the guy never slept.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He glared lazily behind his cup of coffee.

“Did you get enough beauty sleep?”

“First day of the semester. Don’t fuck with me this year.” He grumbled, going onto some early morning lecture I tuned out of, dreading the school day and the long ten hours it would be before I could come back here and relax.

At least it was a Wednesday.

 

“Good morning… Nice to see 70% of you decided to get up on this amazing Wednesday to join my class. Can you shut that door? Thank you…. All right, let’s the cut BS. My name is Professor Taylor McKenzie. I only go by the first two, either or, and no “sirs” in this class. While the majority have already had me last semester, I still have to go over the rules here. 1. Homework is optional.” He waited for the sighs of relief and exclamations to subside. “However, if you wish to pass this class, most of the online quizzes are straight from your homework.” A chorus of groans.

“Secondly, I teach 600 of you a day, I don’t know your names and I probably never will, frankly I don’t care. Thirdly, I do allow extra credit activities and assignments, but you must come to me first. I’m not here to babysit, your parents don’t pay me enough for that. Four: Phones are allowed in the classroom, whether you pay attention or not is entirely up to you, but I do post the notes for the test on the screen every day. If you ever have a question, speak up at anytime, I’m always open to questions and they will push you further in this class. But be respectful. Be respectful of your Professors, your fellow students and be respectful of the lecture hall.” He took a deep breath, “Do not destroy it because  I will destroy you. They are all expensive, and you are all cheap. Do not use the faucets on the laboratory tables unless you are instructed to, as they are not faucets, but lines of kerosene. We do not want to start a gas fire inside of this room.” He shut his eyes and shook his head. “Use your common sense, people. If you get a harmful chemical on you, use the sinks to flush your eyes or hands and have someone tell me if you are not able. If you feel sick, do not hesitate to leave the class, and do not touch anything or do anything that your parents would not approve of. Don’t be the kid I had to call 9-11 for when he decided to get high from the formaldehyde from anatomy lab.” The class sounded disgusted. “Don’t be stupid. As a science Professor, I am a firm believer in Darwinism. Be respectful, I’ll respect you, so on and so forth…” He picked up the syllabus. “You all have one of these, you might be familiar with them or have had them in high school. I’m not gonna spend the whole class going over it, you can read it or chuck it, I don’t care, you’re adults, you don’t need your parents to sign, but it would be wise to scan over. So moving on….” He tossed it in the air behind him.

 “You have two books for this class. If you haven’t already bought them, the school store sells them for a ridiculous amount and the hole in the wall down the street sells them much cheaper, or if you’re like every other college student I know, they are also available online, but you did not hear that from me… Luckily if you don’t have a copy of Biology 101, which was also last semester’s book, then you may copy straight from the outlines presented above... So now without further adieu, we are starting on Chapter  19: Asexual reproduction”

“What’s the fun in that?” A boy shouted out from the rows of desks.

Taylor smirked. “I know. I agree on some terms, and many of you have previously studied this either in highschool or have practiced its counterpart as well. I’m not your health teacher. I’m not here to advise you on how to use protection…. Moving on…. Ah…. Roughly 90% of all asexual reproduction comes from trees, plants, flowers,…” As he looked down at his notes, it suddenly became more difficult to read his own handwriting as the letters began to overlap and he felt the chill creep up his arm.

“…While we are accustomed to sexual reproduction as most living animals are, little of us know that some species can reproduce sexually and asexually. For example, a dolphin reproduces sexually. A dandelion reproduces asexually, and starfish and such corals can reproduce both sexually and asexually. Now asexual reproduction can work in many different ways, thus backing up a Chaos theory. If any of you have seen the original Jurassic Park, not the remake that was released two years ago, the original where Jeff Goldbloom quotes, ‘Life will find a way.’  Another example you may have studied before is mitosis…” The heat wave was accompanied by chills running up his spine and suddenly he felt faint and nauseated.

“Uh, sorry….” He adjusted his glasses. Shit… He leaned into his desk, and felt the bile rising before he could do anything else. He choked it back- “If you could excuse me a momen…”-and bolted from the classroom.

---

 “What’s wrong with you?” I checked my reflection in the mirror as Taylor retched in the stall behind me. Most of his class had filed out after ten minutes, realizing their professor would not be returning to finish his lecture. “Don’t tell me its jitters for your first day of class.”

Taylor spat out the rancid remains into the toilet bowl, and wiped his face with a paper towel. “Fuck….”

“I hope you didn’t catch a bug. Ugh… that would be awful for all of us.”

“Why aren’t you in class…?” Came his low muffled voice.

“Everyone left, and I back that idea. I don’t want you spewing last nights meatloaf across your desk.”

“Shut up.” Taylor groaned as he came to the sink, splashing his face with some cold water. “Probably just ate something funny last night.” He shook it off, and adjusted his tie and collar in the mirror. “I’ll be fine.”

 “You look like the Walking Dead.”

He grumbled as he stared at his reflection; no doubt he noticed his extremely pale complexion as well. He exhaled shakily, and then gagged on his tongue. He retreated quickly back to the toilet, vomiting once more.

Taylor was suffering an extreme case of sea legs by the time we had dragged ourselves to the truck and headed straight home. On the way he kept mostly quiet except for the occasional grumble of teaching me how to drive and not being my taxi service for much longer. It seemed he had gotten over his bug after two rounds in the educator’s bathroom and once more in the university clinic. If the truck didn’t have an automatic driver setting I would have preferred to walk home.

“Taylor’s been sick all day?”

“Yeah, almost lost his cookies right in front of the entire class, it was great!”

“Ugh….” Taylor groaned from his position on the couch, attempting to soothe his still queasy stomach. “I wanna kill you…”

I smiled. “That’s so sweet.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hey, boys.” Angel called from the kitchen like the stay-at-home-mom he always was. “Play nice. Edward, stop pestering Taylor. Taylor…. Just be quiet.”

We both grunted in response, Taylor covering his eyes as I turned the controls to the TV back on. Angel finished boiling water over the stove and carefully poured it into a mug. “Ah, fuck…” He muttered, splattering himself with scalding water.

Angel returned crossed the threshold into the living room with the steaming mug, setting it down on the coffee table. “Made you some tea.”

“Thanks.” Taylor muttered underneath his hand.

“That means drink it. You’ll feel better.”

“I’ll live… It’s just a case of the stomach flu.”

“You  sure you didn’t eat anything weird?”

“No… Haven’t eaten all day, even if I did, it would be over with by now..”

“Here.” Angel put the hot mug into his bionic hand.

Taylor rolled his eyes, and sipped at it. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Well you need to eat something, what do you think you can have?”

“I don’t want to think about eating anything.”

At the mention of food, I could feel my stomach begin growling. Since Taylor had gotten sick, he had refused to make our routine swing by the drive-thru on the way back home, “Ugh… Can we get Chinese Take out?”

“Do they deliver this far?”

“They did last time.”

“Awesome, what do you want?”

“Oh my god, you assholes, stop talking about food in front of me…”

“Hey, can I place an order for delivery? Yeah… Can I get an order of shrimp fried rice, two plates of orange chicken and Mongolian beef...”

“Get some of those crab ragoons too, and also some mushu pork!”

“Oh shit…”

Taylor turned green within seconds, and  right before I thought he was about to retch all over me, Angel appeared with a trash bin, holding it in front of his friend while he vomited.

Angel cringed with the phone still held to his ear. “You know… I may have to call you back…”

“Damn. Right here in the living room, too.”

“Fuuuughhhh yooouuu. Yer lucky I didn’t aim for you…” He grumbled over the trash bin, dribble hanging from his lip. He took a few heaving breaths before having to hang his head within the puke bucket once more, coughing and gagging as he regurgitated every contents of his stomach.

Angel rubbed his friend’s back as he continued to vomit and dry heave “Jeez, buddy. I’m sorry. I haven’t seen you like this in quite a while.”

Taylor hiccupped, gagged, swallowed, and wiped the remains off of his mouth with his sleeve. “….Guhh.. Probably just a virus. Coming back to school, at least someone is carrying some kind of flu around. I’m just unlucky… Oh god….” He covered his mouth as another burp came rising up his throat.

“You don’t feel any better after throwing up?”

“No….” He shook Angel off, and placed the soiled bin on the floor, resting his hands on his stomach. “Still nauseaus… Gonna try to sleep it off… in the bathroom…” He pushed himself up, nearly falling over in the process and stubbed his toe on the coffee table.

He growled lowly in frustration to himself, and limped down the hallway.

“You want your tea?”

“Fuck the tea!”

It certainly was strange. Not once in the two years I had spent with him had I seen Taylor sick. Most people get colds, a stuffed nose, lose their voice, have a case of the flu. He never even got seasonal allergies. And all of a sudden he’s paralyzed by a stomach bug of some sort.

He was weak.

And somewhat more human.

He was no better the next day, woken up once again by an upset stomach. My usual peace and quiet nights of sleep had been interrupted by a noisy stomach flu, and my appetite had festered just by being in the same vicinity.

“Ed, don’t let your eggs get cold.” Angel commanded from the kitchen as he finished cleaning up breakfast. 

I groaned, turning the fork over in them once again. “Not hungry…. Taylor’s making it really difficult to keep my appetite.”

He sat across from me with a mug of coffee, sighing. “Don’t worry about it, sport. Taylor’s Taylor, you know. He’ll be fine by tomorrow morning and you’ll be well on your way back to school bright and sharp, back to our normal lives.”

“Can’t wait….”

“It will get easier, Ed. I know it’s always boring coming back to school and normal life after lengthy missions and adventure, but you get used to it, and appreciate each time equally.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Angel, but really I don’t have any problems I want to discuss right now. I’m okay. The most I’m worried about is catching whatever stomach bug Taylor has.”

“Ditto.”

 The house phone began to ring.

“Hello? Oh hey Chief, what’s up?.... He called out?…. Yeah, he’s still here…. No, he’s actually sick this time…. I don’t know, he’s been throwing up all night….No, we haven’t been drinking…. Okay… Okay,…. Okay… I’ll let him know—Okay—Okay--Chief—I got it. I’ll tell him you called. Bye bye. Bye now….Bye Chief, talk to you tomorrow. Chief, I’m hanging up now. Bye--” Angel ended the call before his own parental figure could accuse them of anything else.

I looked to Angel, since my ride to school was obviously incapacitated at the time. “Do I still have to go to class today?”

“I don’t see why you’d have to.” He winked at me and stood from his seat. “Let’s just make sure the Professor doesn’t have any plans…”

He came to the bathroom door and knocked. “Taylor, yoo-hoo. You okay in there?”

No reply.

Another few knocks. “Taylor, come on. Open up.”

“Stop knocking.”

“You feelin’ any better, buddy?”

No reply.

“Do you want me to get you anything?”

“No, your voice is making me nauseas, go away!”

“Well, I was just wondering if you had any plans to teach today.”

The reply was that of the sound of vomit splashing in the water, and Angel chose to leave him be, returning to me with the good news.

 

The good news continued onto the next day, again Taylor was bent over a toilet retching his guts out and unable to keep anything down. Luckily neither Angel or I had any similar symptoms and my professor was considering going to the doctor for any sort of relief or diagnosis. By the third day, Angel took me to school to soothe my cabin fever and catch up on homework.

Class was different without our quirky, provocative one-armed science professor. The usual lifting energy in the room was dull, and half asleep through the monotone lectures of a very well dated corduroy wearing textbook science teacher. At least Taylor had some spunk to grab our attention.

His withdrawal period lasted two more days and a weekend before he finally started feeling better. He ate a little, and even took off the sweatpants he had worn for a consecutive 72 hour binge. I hated to admit it, but it was good to have him back in class.

 

We spent most of our days in the lecture hall, though Taylor also taught a smaller philosophy class once a week that I was not required to attend. During that time, I would usually skip to the cafeteria or take a nap in the library, but during that Monday, I chose to sit and listen, finding a place to sit in the back of the small classroom with an old green chalk board.

“Be alone, that is the secret of invention; be alone, that is when ideas are born.’ How many of you are familiar with this quote?”

In a class of twenty five, four raised their hands.

“All right, can anyone tell me which philosopher is known for that quote?” Taylor peered over his new philosophy students for the first time that semester, and he definitely noticed me in the back.

A girl with dyed blue hair raised her hand. “Albert Einsten?”

Taylor shook his head, “Close. Very close… Think Croatia. Yes?” He pointed to a boy wearing tie dye and a striped beanie.

“Nikola Tesla?”

“Correct.” Taylor reached into his pocket and tossed the boy a wrapped candy. “Who here can tell me something about Mr. Nikola Tesla? Yes—you?”

An Asian girl in the back row stood up, “Tesla is the inventor behind the Tesla coils, and the reason we wouldn’t have Tesla cars today.”

Taylor tossed her a sweet little reward as well. It didn’t take long to realize exactly what he was doing, and fitting for a philosophy class. “Can anyone else tell me something about him?”

I raised my hand and spoke, “Tesla was known for his alternating current versus the direct current brought about by Benjamin Franklin.” I had only known because he had told me about it at least twenty times in his ramblings during the drives home.

He seemed impressed and almost flattered, and tossed me a wrapped hard candy. He was baiting us like dogs, but it was working and clearly the class was enjoying it.

“Before we move onto our lesson, class. I want to you to explain to me what the quote means to us. ‘Be alone, that is the secret of invention. Be alone, that is when ideas are born.’” He repeated as he wrote the sentence on the board in yellow. When he turned around, nobody had volunteered to answer his question. “Everyone, what does this quote mean to you?”

The students gazed around to one another, hoping someone would come forth and speak for them.

“Come on guys, this is a philosophy class. Don’t make me start singling you out….” He waited another few seconds for someone to speak, and when it didn’t happen, he pointed to the boy in the tye dye again. “What does this quote mean to you?”

He stuttered, “Uh, um… It means you need to think freely instead of speaking what others have told you?”

Taylor nodded with a smirk. “Good. Now was that so hard?” The boy sighed in relief as Taylor’s gaze moved onto another victim. “You there in the orange sweater. What does this quote mean to you specifically?”

“I guess it means to draw your inspiration from what you think of, not from what others have already done…?”

“Good. Now, why did your answer sound like his?” Taylor pointed back to the one in the tye dye. The sports jock in the orange looked as if he were accused of murder.

“Sir, I-I don’t know…”

“Because you think the same, or because it goes hand in hand with the quote?”

The jock stared down at his desk nervously. “Both?”

“What’s your name?”

“Kevin Henley, Professor.”

“Well what I want to know, is what Kevin Henley thinks for himself.”

“I think… I think uh, that what it means is you are the best when you’re not under pressure or trying to fit into a society. Without being told what to do, without limits…?” He peered up to our Professor, questioning his own thought process.

“Good job, you trusted your gut that time.” He reached into his pocket again and left a few candies on Kevin’s desk as he moved onto his next lecture. “In this philosophy course, I want you to be free of all restrictions your mind has put upon you and free of images given to you by others. Think openly, think clearly, think chaotically, whatever works for you. If you have a question, never hesitate. Up here is our chalkboard, as you can see there’s nothing on it. That is your assignment. Anytime you have a question, a detailed question or discovery, write it on the board, any time. This is a philosophy class, and you will not be graded on bookwork or study sheets and outlines, only on the effort you put forth in your papers and presentations….”

You had to hand it to him, he was good at selling his trade.

 

“Hey, Taylor, how come you never say anything about your philosophy class? Why was it optional for me?”

“Because if it wasn’t, it would defeat the whole point.”

“I see….” I narrowed my eyes at him from the passenger seat as we drove home, “This is just another social experiment like that Pavlov thing you’re doing with the students.”

“Hey, it got you to participate, didn’t it? What made you even come anyway?"

"I was bored." 

"You should join more often." 

"I did like the candy." 

"Everyone likes candy. Maybe next time I'll do donuts." 

“Well its good to see you got your appetite back. I’m starving, for one, can we get something with French fries?”

“Nothing like some greasy fast food to help get over a stomach bug…” He spoke lowly to himself, turning off on the exit ramp to the next burger joint. The truck kept moving to the right until I was sure he was about to run off the road, and in the next two seconds, he did and pulled the truck onto the rough shoulder which rumbled in protest.

“What’s going on?”

“Uh…” Taylor stuttered as he began to turn pale. “Gotta… check the tire…think it needs-- some air…” He quickly unbuckled and kicked open the door to run around back and all I could hear were his coughs and gags.

So much for getting over that stomach bug.

Chapter 3: The Hangover
The official third chapter of this part of the series. Be ready, it's coming fast. 
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If you guys would actually be up for it, I might start doing commissions for $15 a pop for a digital painting, only if you guys would like that! Let me know what you think!
Movie Night Hormones Colored by justcallmebillie
Movie Night Hormones Colored
Yo so i tried something different with this GIMP program and played around a little bit with another older picture of mine. It's different seeing them in color, so weird....

This one took about 8 hours total.
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justcallmebillie's Profile Picture
justcallmebillie
Riley
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
My art consists of you know, whatever's on my mind at the time.
I like to cosplay as well as crossplay, so theres a few galleries on that in here.

I am also a writer, having accounts on both ff.net and fictionpress under Ididntdoit07, I'm a huge Batman fan and have written a few twisted sequels to the Dark Knight Trilogy there. (check em out if you like yaoi) ;)

I'm a fan of mpreg (idk why, to me its just plain amusing) and placing characters in awkward situations so thus I've created a series called the Guardian which was originally created in 05, based off of Edward Elric and has thus transformed into something new entirely. Yes, there's mpreg there too.

Well.

Hope this wasn't too weird for you.

Oh I also like doing little crafts, like space paintings too... xD
When I first made this series back in 2004, I had no clue it would get any of the recognition or followers it has to this day. (Hey it may only be 100 but it's what makes my day over and over again to know that people are enjoying my original characters and storyline.) When it first began, I had only two readers... my best friends. Now all of you have become my friends in the process, so...

I will be taking character applications if you wish to be put into the series as a minor character/victim. Note, any characters are subject to possibly being murdered, eaten, failed, are an, enemy, student, teacher, nurse, etc... Meaning it may or may not be killed off. But that's kinda cool don't you think?

To do this, all you need to do is fill this out.

Name: **Your name or a made up name
Description: **please don't get too descriptive with hair color...since I draw in black and white.
From: Usa? Sweden? Australia..?
Possible Background: **note, background may be subject to change.

Anywhoo I thought it would be cool to let you guys literally in on the story. Hope you all apply!  :)

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:iconim-as-mad-as-rabbits:
im-as-mad-as-rabbits Featured By Owner Jul 2, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Do you ever get that feeling when you read something and you wish you could just hug the story itself? That's what I feel while reading about Taylor and Angel, its so cute and I love them so much omg I totally wish I could do amazing stuff like you! I love this page!
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:iconswedishsweetheart:
SwedishSweetHeart Featured By Owner Jun 21, 2016  Student Artist
I think your art is pretty nice yet interesting, as I have added you to my deviantWATCH. Welcome aboard, matey! :ahoy:
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:iconriverpelt999:
Riverpelt999 Featured By Owner Feb 8, 2016  Hobbyist Artist
Well guess who you got hooked on Fullmetal Alchemist.
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:iconfromdogstowolves:
Fromdogstowolves Featured By Owner Feb 24, 2016
Same😄
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:iconblckstr09:
blckstr09 Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2015
amazing drawing skills :) 
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:iconaaaaesthetic:
aAaaesthetic Featured By Owner Edited Oct 28, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist


Yay! I got my first DA in!
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:iconjustcallmebillie:
justcallmebillie Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Its so cute!!! :)
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:iconaaaaesthetic:
aAaaesthetic Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you!
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:iconjustcallmebillie:
justcallmebillie Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
No, I don't I'm sorry.
I keep to my own works, mainly because I'm not good with responsibility and it probably wont get done. Its no offense to you personally, I just get so busy and side tracked and then when I wanna draw I only wanna draw my stuff. XD
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