#i literally might have a fever as i write this ... and yet...

[fuiru]

A 44 year old man goes to a K-Pop Concert

I promised you a report on the K-pop concert that I, a 44-year-old accountant, went to a couple of weeks ago with my wife and daughter in Toronto. So here it is.

The band we saw were Ateez. They're my daughter's favourite band and my wife's second favourite. I know most of my mutuals are similarly aged like me and may not be familiar with them so let me give you a brief primer on Ateez.

Imagine the most attractive eight men you can think of, just unfathomably beautiful specimens of aesthetic perfection, and make them sing songs that somehow combine the subjects of 'dancing like nobody is watching' with 'we live in a dystopian hellscape that we must all work together to overthrow'. Give them an ongoing music video story lore that literally nobody - not even the band themselves - understand, so that online discussion of their visual motifs looks more like the fevered rantings of a conspiracy theorist, complete with speculation about alternate realities and time being a Moebius strip. There is also a giant sand timer, for some reason.

That's Ateez. That's what you need to know.

Now, K-pop concerts are very different to the gigs I've been going to for the last 28 (!) years. There's no support act, for a start. Also the band perform for like, three hours, with breaks for costume changes and interpretive dance. Furthermore, hanging above everything is the constant looming threat of mandatory military service.

So this being my first such concert, I wasn't sure what to expect. What happened was difficult to explain, but I will try as I am already six paragraphs into this write-up and I'm too invested to stop now. Here goes:

In his Wicked + Divine comics series, Kieron Gillen places modern pop icons as deities, feeding upon and gaining strength from the worship of their fans at the altar of musical performance. I thought I understood that metaphor. I thought I understood it AS a metaphor. I was wrong, because that night Ateez WERE Gods with a capital G and we were their worshippers, a crowd emanating adoration (in the religious and non-religious senses), bestowing strength upon them and gaining their strength in return.

If that sounds weird, it probably is. But as pointed out above, I have lived over four decades and never yet experienced anything like the overwhelming passion of that crowd, the utter abandon with which they conveyed their love for the band.

"But Fuiru, what of the actual music?" you ask. Thinking back, there was a moment in one of their songs - I can't remember which - where I watched the stage, and the people around me, taking it in, and I thought, "Man, I just love Music". But that doesn't answer your question, sorry.

Ateez's music is bloody great. As a tiresome indie/rock/metal kid I'm resisting the urge to add the usual tiresome indie/rock/metal caveat of "...for pop music" because honestly that does it a disservice. They have some genuinely amazing songs. Halazia is an absolute fucking masterpiece that descends into furious hardcore breakbeat. Bouncy is a big, brash racket that somehow is also a perfect pop song. Utopia, Wonderland, and Guerrilla are similarly superb. The obligatory boy band slow number is represented by Dancing Like Butterfly Wings which will make you cry because you will forever associate it with your twelve year old daughter being pointed to and waved at by her favourite Ateez member (Seonghwa) because of her Seonghwa-branded lightstick.

That might just be me, though.

So in summary: being a 44 year old dad at his first K-pop concert rules and you should endeavour to partake in the experience if the opportunity arises.

Finally, for any Atiny reading this: my bias would be San or Seonghwa but my wife and daughter said they were taken so it’s Mingi. My concert outfit (designed and created by my offspring) reflects this.

[muqingslover]

Hii!! Love your writing!!

I wanted to ask if you have any hc about the lads men as fathers? For example, my hc was that Xavier is a boy dad that makes sure his kid will not end up listening to those "alpha podcasts" because he sets the example of a gentle yet "i slayed over 70,000 wanderers", kind yet assertive man. HOWEVER, since the level 175 affinity interaction came out, I'm 100% hes a girl dad raising his daughter to be a strong and independent woman (like the MC he loves dearly). What do you think?

[ my first ask! yahooo! thank you, pookie! I'll give you my thoughts in general (a big mix of everything) but if anyone wants one of the boys in more detail then feel free to ask because I have more to share! ]

Alright maybe this is a hot take but I don't think he wants children, like at all.

Xavier does NOT like sharing. He's literally jealous of himself for goodness sake and he really, reaaaally, does not want to share you, especially not with clingy children that would take almost if not all of your attention and also his sleep.

In-game he's also shown to not be super fond of children in general which I find hilarious.

He's lived a long life, sacrificed everything and everyone for you, and spent the rest of his years searching for you. He believes he has the right to be a bit selfish and keep you to himself. Let's be honest, he's earned it.

He does want children, but he is the type to plan for it. And I mean *plan*.

Out of everyone, he understands the best what it means for both your body and mental health the changes pregnancy would bring (including the chance of postpartum depression and other complications) so there would be a looooong discussion before anything happened.

When putting together the nursery it's like he's preparing for the apocalypse and not a baby "We might need this" (you won't be needing it), "This was made with [chemical], it could be toxic for you or the baby." "Zayne, it's just a plastic spoon."

Absolutely not as cool as he leads you to believe. You have this man stressed™ but he is so, soooo patient.

He'd be very serious about follow-up appointments and he'll make time for the both of you no matter what.

GIRL DAD ! GIRL DAD ! GIRL DAD !

100% victim of waking up covered in silly drawings and bows in his hair but he says before him than his poor white walls.

You have your hands full monitoring these two that love to sneak around and stuff their cheeks full like hamsters with sweets.

Now this man wants a whole LITTER if you'll let him.

Hear me out: TRIPLETS. Oooor, twins with a younger sibling right after. Maybe one more if you are really brave.

This was not planned at all, but when you tell him he's so happy he'd be in actual tears while hugging you.

Luke and Kieran are over the moon about it too. They'd be so cute with the children because they get to be big bros now and they take their role very seriously.

Sylus would pull out his phone or coat and it would be covered in cute stickers. He takes no action in getting rid of it though because he loves it.

Those children are S P O I L E D. You have to take the role of saying no otherwise he'd take over the world just because his baby asked to be queen of the world on a random Thursday.

I think he's on the same boat as Xavier but for different reasons.

I have some...perhaps...controversial takes on this little guy in general so I'll leave it open for your interpretation hehe

love him though<3

I know I know everyone says he'd be the best girl dad but PLEASE pleaaaase give this man a little boy.

If you think women's baby fever are bad just wait until you see Caleb's

He would draw on your belly bump where he thinks the baby is and talk to him even while you're asleep

This guy is taking lessons about pregnancy, how to support you during birth and he is 100% in one of those moms group chat.

"Caleb we do not need another onesie—" "But look! Look how cute it is! Oh, and the little hat? C'mon angel, please?" (Ban him from shopping by himself because he comes back with WAY too many things you do not need)

He loves and I mean LOVES matching clothes. From silly costumes, to pajamas and outside outfits.

So. Many. Pictures. He takes pictures all the time to keep them as memories because if something were to happen where you or he lost their memories again then they'd forever be preserved :(

[ I have so much more to say about this but maybe I'll just make a separate post for each of them ]

[felibrary]

╭──╯ DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION !

PAIRING: jiaoqiu x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: how does a healer heal himself when he falls ill? the answer is he doesn't, after all, you're here to take care of him!; alternatively your boyfriend's sick, and despite all his refusals you insist on taking care of him.

WORDCOUNT: 1.2k | CONTENT & WARNINGS: did i play the tb mission yet..no, did i still write this? yes cause i just man idek okay, jiaoqiu might be ooc, banter and bickering and just tooth-rotting fluff (and jiaoqiu rots in bed..literally lol)

TAGS: @azullumi (i hate all of your fans for choosing the blind date one. reject them exes and bring back hanahaki diseases and yearning 🔥🔥)

AUTHORS NOTE: the closed eyes remind me of jouno. jiaoqiu pls dont die. also im trying to be more dialogue-centrish here cause im not familiar with his character yet soooo no metaphors for now

“jiaoqiu, would it kill you to stay in bed for at least once?”

the scent of freshly brewed green tea and aromatic congee slowly fills the air and you lean back against the counter, with your hands on the surface of the kitchen island and a deadpan expression you stare right at your boyfriend who has only woken up now.

an expression that brings no good settles onto jiaoqiu’s face. “do you need help?” jiaoqiu smiles mirthfully and without hearing your answer he swiftly brushes past you. in the blink of an eye, jiaoqiu picks up the kitchen knife lying on the cutting board before expertly chopping the spring onions into thin rings to later sprinkle over the congee.

he cannot be serious right now.

you have to prevent yourself from sighing out loud before grabbing him by the shoulders to make him turn around  “stop being so stubborn and return to bed,” you’re not sure if the reason you’re heating is up due to the congee whose heat is emitting into the air, the close proximity between you and jiaoqiu that makes your heart skip a beat or two, or the fact that jiaoqiu’s sick and is probably spreading his sickness over to you. 

the latter sounds the most reasonable. 

as it seems (and as expected) your demand goes in one (or well two) ears and out of the other one(s). “and since when are you the doctor?” his cheeky tone and the smirk he throws you are both infuriating. “but, i guess i’m lucky to have such a smart and not to mention beautiful partner who cares about my well-being,” he remarks lovingly. 

“you think you can bribe me with sugar-coated words?” as sweet as he might be, you won’t let him off the hook so easily. after all, he also deserves to rest, especially when sick. 

someone who only takes care of others and their well-being but never their own, will meet their demise sooner than those who constantly seek out help, due to never confiding in others when facing hardships.

“i’m simply stating the truth.” he chortles gleefully, tilting his head to the side while doing so.

“what a charmer you are,” you reply dryly before taking a few steps away from him. “anyway, as you’ve already mentioned your oh-so-smart and beautiful partner cares about your well-being, so i ask you to go back to bed, and get your well-deserved rest,” you quickly change the subject.

ironically nothing escapes jiaoqiu’s attentive gaze, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d noticed the rosy tint on your ears by now. but even if that were the case he doesn’t seem to pay any mind to it.

“as much as i appreciate your concern, there’s really no need. i’ve experienced much worse and more severe illnesses. a little fever won’t be the death of me.” jiaoqiu shrugs in simplicity, brushing it off as no big deal.

“you’re such a handful to deal with sometimes,” you mumble under your breath before swiftly pressing your hand onto his forehead and withdrawing it as quickly. “jiaoqiu. you’re literally burning up.” 

you don’t wait for him to respond — you won’t give him the time to respond before reaching down and searching for his hand. his lithe fingers find yours and you carefully lace them together before guiding (dragging) him back to the bedroom and forcing him to lie back down as you crouch at his side.

the wet towel that sits all scrunched up in the plastic bowl right next to his bed seems all wrung out already catches your attention and you sigh. “sorry, that i didn’t come earlier to refresh the water,” jiaoqiu’s ears perk up at your apologetic tone and he smiles. “don’t worry about it.”

“stay here, i’ll get you a new one. don’t move while i’m gone okay? just try to relax a bit.” the only thing you receive as a form of acknowledgment is a quiet hum before rushing off to the bathroom to fill the bowl with new cold water.

you return just as quickly as you left and begin to wring the piece of cloth and fold it into a rectangle before placing it onto jiaoqiu’s forehead. “is this okay?” you ask, carefully brushing the strands of hair that stick to the damp towel away. again, a mere hum is the only answer you receive from him.

as you’re reminded of the green tea and congee that are still in the kitchen you jump up. “right i almost forgot the food, i’ll go and get it. wait here for me.” you turn around and before you can even fully leave the room, a whine of your name makes you turn around.

“can you turn the pillow for me? this side is too warm.” your boyfriend starts to complain and you can’t help but stare (in surprise or irritation, you don’t know — maybe both.) you help your boyfriend up and make him lean against the headboard as he continuously holds the wet towel against his forehead. “here,” you present him and he smiles in satisfaction. 

he settles back into bed you assume he has no more requests thus you decide to leave and reside in the kitchen once more. the aroma of spices fills your nose once more and you can’t help but smile as you take the lid of the pot off before using a ladle to scoop the congee into a bowl. 

you reach for a porcelain cup and pour the green tea into it before placing it on a tray with the congee to bring it to jiaoqiu.

as soon as you enter his room, jiaoqiu’s ears perk up. “i’ve missed you,” he expresses wholeheartedly and that makes your heart melt. it’s these moments where you get reminded how lucky to have him. “so now that you’re back can you turn my pillow around again? this side heated up much faster than anticipated.”

okay so maybe you weren’t that grateful to have him.

you sigh and put the tray down on his (unexpectedly but pleasing) tidy desk, normally it would’ve been filled with a bunch of different notes and recipes for both meals and medicines, but it’s exceptionally organized today. 

once again you help your boyfriend once again by flipping his pillow before grabbing the bowl of congee and handing it to him. upon him not accepting, let alone acknowledging the food before him, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“what? do you want me to feed you next princess?” you scoff and although your remark is sarcastic, jiaoqiu can’t help but smile cheekily. “well if you’re already offeri-” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you shove the metal spoon full of congee into his mouth which slightly catches him off guard and makes him open his eyes for a split second.

although you’ve seen his eyes countless times, you can’t help but admire them. his eyes resemble honey, beautiful and golden but also sickeningly sweet and addicting. “you know you’re so much more beautiful when you shut up for once,” you tease.

Jiaoqiu detaches himself from the spoon and scoffs. “should’ve added black pepper instead of white pepper. you know that i favor intense flavors over mild ones.” he complains and you can’t help but crack a smile. ”stop being a picky eater and eat.”

END NOTE: this has been sitting in my drafts since June 21 LMFAO but yeah here it is!! also does this look proofread to yall cause it really isn't its quite literally 3am and school's starting next week. my sleeping schedule's so fucked up I'm crying. but shoutouts to Grammarly for proofreading tho fawk u for saying i need Grammarly pro to see my other 92 mistakes like okay. in this economy??

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[kazumist]

Hoshina Soshiro but his very clingy when his sick hehehe

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. fluff. no cws. wc: 474. requests are open + reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated !!

✩ —note: nurse!reader came from here. sorry shameless self plug i know but i saw an opportunity and took it okay </3 thank u for requesting!! i rlly like writing soshiro huhu

“you can’t really say i did this on—” a cough. “—purpose this time, sweetheart.” hoshina says, his voice a bit more raspy.

“hmm, i still can, you know. were you overworking yourself again?” you asked, looking at him with a sigh. even heroes have their moments, i suppose, you thought. your beloved vice captain of a boyfriend recently got your attention again (injuredly speaking)—or, in simpler terms, he has a fever this time. one hand reaches up to his forehead to check his temperature as your thumb slowly caresses the crown of his head. 

you sat on the side of his bed as soshiro looked away from you when you asked him that question. it was another way of saying yes without actually saying it. the guilt in his expression is obvious, despite having a fever. “soshiro, we talked about this.” yet soshiro doesn’t answer. instead, he moves closer to you, wrapping his arms against your waist.

“it doesn’t really matter if i have my—” another cough. “—favorite nurse to take care of me, right?” he says, looking up to you before burying his head on your waist again.

another sigh is heard from you. “you can’t always expect me to be there, soshiro.” he only grumbles against the fabric of your clothing in reply. “did you take your meds yet?” you asked, he nods. it was rare to see hoshina like this when usually he’s the one who would talk a lot between the two of you (well, it’s really just equal. you both take turns in being a listener and a talker to one another). 

“since you already took your meds, i’ll just monitor you, ‘kay?”

“are you going to make me let go of you?” he asks, voice being muffled.

“yes…? you can’t just keep clinging to me, soshiro.”

“dun wanna.”

“i might get sick too, dummy.”

“then we’ll be sick together.”

“but who will take care of you then?”

“i will.”

“you’re literally the sick one here.”

“okay, and?” he huffs, looking up to you again. you feel him hug your waist tighter. “as much as i enjoy your clingy side, love, i’m afraid that you have to endure it for now.” you said, prying his arms away from you. he whines at the feeling as you tucked him in bed. “don’t worry, you can cling onto me like a koala for as much as you’d like when you’re all better. now rest.” hoshina feels you give a kiss on the forehead as he started to feel drowsy due to the medication’s effect.

and once the vice captain felt good as new, he sure did not miss his chances. but rumors say that a specific nurse from the medical took a sudden leave due to them getting sick. it was now soshiro’s turn to take care of you now.

[shion-yu]

Day 30: Contagion

We made it, folks! I really pushed myself to finish @sicktember and I’m so proud I did. For this last work I decided to just let go and do something different. TW for fictional contagion and some mess. Like, contagion is all it is. Which is not something I usually write, but I was inspired by @poetryandsniffles “Going Around” at 3am. It starts with unnamed characters and ends with you. Hope someone enjoys this. As you guys might know, snz isn't fully my thing but I know I have a lot of followers for whom it is, so this is for you. 1,933 words, TW fictional contagion.

It’s Saturday, and all the new freshmen students are moving into the dorms down the street. The bookseller is ready for them, knowing all the students are eager to exercise their first taste of freedom and want to window shop in their new college town. It's probably his busiest day of the year, which is why he absolutely cannot close the store despite the wretched cold he woke up with. He has a cough that won't let him finish a sentence without interrupting himself, and being surrounded by all the used books is making the sneezes that overtake him every minute even worse. He’s putting an old tome of Shakespeare away when he hears the bell ring, signaling a customer. He closes the book and accidentally inhales a noseful of dust. He tries to say, “Welcome,” but instead all he gets out is “Wehh - heee - ahh hatchoo!” 

“Bless you!” It's definitely a freshman, round glasses overtaking half her face and her little homemade clay earrings dangling on either side. 

“Tdangks,” the bookseller mumbles, snorting a huge noseful of congestion up into his face in an attempt to clear his voice. Apparently that's the wrong move, because it causes him to erupt into a harsh round of coughing that forces him to sit down behind his desk. 

The freshman doesn't seem to mind. She’s too interested in looking around the store, fascinated by the used books. The bookseller nurses his poor nose into the fiftieth tissue of the morning, blowing as hard as he can yet it doesn't seem to clear the congestion. He hasn't been this sick in ages. Why did it have to be today of all days?

“I’ll take this, please.”

The bookseller looks up to find the freshman standing in front of him, holding none other than the thick Shakespeare tome he just put away. The one that he knows he really should have wiped down before shelving. 

“Are you sure you want this one?” He asks hesitantly.

“Why?”

Explaining feels like too much work, and bad business. The bookseller shakes his head. “No reason,” he says, coughing into his elbow. “That’ll be $10.80.”

~.~.~.~

It’s well known that a cold isn't uncommon in the beginning of the semester, but the freshman can't believe it took less than a week for her to get hit with this plague. It’s only the end of the first day of classes when she feels a tickle in her throat that makes her cough. By evening she’s feeling the chill of an incoming fever, and by the next morning she feels like she’s been hit by a bus. This feels worse than just a cold, but it's literally the second day of classes in her first year of university. She can't afford to take a sick day so soon.

And so, the freshman drags herself to her English 101 lecture where she continues to cough and shiver, clutching the hoodie she's wearing around her ever tighter. Her bones ache and she feels like she desperately needs to be in bed, but this lecture is three hours long. Three torturous hours, and it's not a huge class. Everybody can hear her coughing away, she's sure of it. She's so embarrassed by her noisiness - the rustle as she plucks out tissue after tissue from the box she's helplessly taken to carrying around. The petite sniffle she's trying to hold back every few seconds, but if she doesn't her nose will be streaming. The stifled sneezes that more than often result in additional chesty coughs. By the end of the lecture she’s so cold and miserable that she's not sure she's going to make it to her next class, which is chemistry 100. 

Somehow she does, and before most of the other students too. She figures now is a good time to try and blow her nose as loudly as possible. Maybe if she can empty it out, she won't be so disruptive at this lecture. She blows into a tissue hard, and it makes her nose tickle. She can't hold it back, and she scrambles to grab another tissue - but it's too late. She ducks her head to the side and sneezes, uncovered, spraying the space next to her. Thankfully no one’s sat down yet. She hastily tries to clean the desk with the tissue, but she stupidly didn't bring any hand sanitizer and the desk is still gleaming with germs when a boy comes in and sits right next to her. 

He greets her and introduces himself as a football player who’s retaking the class. The freshman can't help but watch in horror as he puts his hands all over the desk, then proceeds to bite his nails. She can't just apologize, but she does so in her head, knowing he’s doomed. 

~.~.~.~

The football player is pretty pissed that he’s managed to catch something already. He doesn't have any time for a cold, especially not so early in the season. It doesn't matter that it’s cold for September, or that it's raining, or that he already had chills before practice started. He’s got to push through for the sake of the team, and also his reputation and scholarship. And he still has to finish that chemistry assignment. Who gives such a long homework in the first two weeks of classes? It should be illegal.

He’s drying off in the locker room, a now very wet cough echoing against the metal lockers. He changes into clean clothes, but he still feels sticky with sweat and rain water. He shivers and shleps off to his chemistry professor's office hours. He needs an extension.

The professor doesn't look happy to see him dripping and sniffling when he shows up at his door. “C’mon, professor, I just need a few days. It's the beginning of the season, I can't fall behind already, and I’m - koff koff koff - sick.”

“I can see that,” the professor says in mild disgust. “But I don't make exceptions. Not even for athletes,” she says before he can protest. 

“That's not fair,” the football player complains. “I really am s-siii-”

The professor tries to duck, but it's too late. The football player sneezes, only poorly half covering. “Sorry,” he says hoarsely.

“I think you'd better go home and lie down,” the professor says in a clipped tone. There's some spray on the corner of her glasses, much to both of their chagrin. “And skip practice tomorrow.”

“Yes ma'am,” the football player says. He’s too ashamed of himself now to keep begging. The professor sprays lysol all over her office and hopes it’ll be enough.

~.~.~.~

It’s not enough. By the end of the week the professor, too, is full of cold. She has to lecture through it, even though she barely has a voice and nearly spills chemical solutions on herself trying to contain her sneezes into her shoulder while holding glass beakers. The students keep blessing her, and that irritates her more than anything because it's their damn fault she’s sick. She's trying to make tenure though, and isn't about to call out, so she pushes through. Every sneeze hitches in the back of her throat as she tries to hold back, making a girlish noise that kills her inside a little. 

She’s already passed the cold along to her husband, your coworker, who has an immune system as good as a preschooler. She can't wait to get home where she can just relax. Her legs are cramping from standing for so long in heels, her makeup is running because of all the congestion, and she keeps making errors while lecturing that she never would otherwise. This cold is so embarrassing and comes with all the visible symptoms: cough, congestion, sneezing, fever. It's impossible to hide.

Her coworkers have even taken notice and mentioned she ought to take it easy, which the professor absolutely will not be doing. So what if she has to cough through her lectures? So what if the students in the front row may or may not be nursing colds of their own in a week? She has to work, that's just how it is. No exceptions, she tells her students. Not even for herself.

~.~.~.~

You can hear your coworker coughing from his cubicle opposite you. Yesterday he said his wife was sick, and today he seems to have brought her cold to share with everyone. How generous of him, you think dryly. You cringe as you hear him blow his nose again, a wet, harsh sound that is the audible equivalent of contagion. And now - oh no. Now he's coming to you.

“I've got the report done,” your coworker says as he approaches. His eyes are red rimmed and watery, nose raw red from blowing and his lips parted in an awkward fashion because he can't breathe properly. And now he's blowing germs all over your desk.

You take the report from him and hope to shoo him away quickly with a thank you, but no such luck. He bends over your desk and starts to explain part of the report that apparently, he finds is not self explanatory enough. You can hear the whistle of blocked sinuses and his voice crackles with congestion. “Does that make sense?” He asks, standing up and sniffling. He runs his temple, clearly also trying to work through a headache.

“Yes, perfect sense,” you tell your coworker. It doesn't matter if it made sense or not, you wish he'd just go away. “You don't look so good. Why don't you go home?” You ask.

“It's not so bad - snrrk!” He says before snorting loudly. “I can deal with it.”

“I see,” you say. And apparently everyone else has to deal with it, too. 

~.~.~.~

You hope you'll get lucky. That Emergen-C and hand sanitizer will save you - but it doesn't. Because a few days later you, too, wake up with an ache in your head and chest and a shiver that won't go away despite several fall layers of clothing. You have a cough that snaps and crackles against your sore throat and the sinus pressure behind your eyes throbs. You haven't even made it out of bed before you're overtaken by a round of three loud sneezes in succession. You’re definitely sick.

Unlike your coworker, you're not about to work through this cold. You feel too lousy, and the fever you're running is way too high to ignore. It's everywhere, this fever: deep in your bones, making everything ache from head to toe. You spend the day in bed, shivering and coughing away. The bed becomes a sea of used tissues, the small trashcan long since overflowing. The fever must be making you emotional, because you can't help but tear up a little when your partner finally comes home. 

“Aw, baby,” they say sympathetically. They press their cold hands against your hot cheeks and wet washcloths to cool you down. They climb into bed with you and cuddle you, your throbbing head and streaming nose in their lap, and don't complain about how you're getting snot all over their knee. “Poor love,” they say. “You’ll be better soon.”

You close your eyes and just listen to your partner’s soothing voice. In a few days, this will all be over, you tell yourself. Whatever this cold or flu from hell is, you’ll be back at it by next week. For right now though, you decide to just rely on your partner completely. Let them dote on you, take care of you, and hope you don’t get them - and didn't get too many others - sick, too.

[its-time-to-write]

can i request a continuation of the jamie x kent!reader baby fever fic where they actually have a kid? the best friend’s sister trope is one of my favs and i literally eat up anything you write🤍

I had some down time today, so I wrote a little thing for this! It probably makes more sense if you read the other fics in this Kent! reader universe. Here’s a list:

take your time while you’re mine

would it be enough if i never gave you peace

let’s fall in love for the night

Thanks for requesting!!

here in my arms

Roy is holding the tiniest baby he’s ever seen. 

“There’s no way I was ever that small,” Phoebe whispers from the couch next to him, and Roy agrees. Surely Phoebe was bigger than this little bundle he’s looking at. 

“Cute little lad, ain’t he?” Jamie says from the other couch. 

Roy’s not sure what to say because on the one hand, he doesn’t want to explicitly agree with something Jamie’s said but on the other hand… this kid’s fucking adorable. 

“Jamie,” calls your voice from upstairs.

“Coming!” he replies. “You’re good here, yeah Roy?”

Roy scoffs. Is he good here. He’s Uncle fucking Roy. He’s a pro.

“Right, I’ll take that as a yes then,” Jamie says. “Food should be here in an hour. If me ’n the missus ain’t awake by then, just let us be. We don’t need food.” He gets halfway out the room before he stops and asks, “You’re sure you’re good here?”

This time, Roy fully rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Tartt. Go get some sleep before my sister fucking murders you.”

Jamie says, “Right,” salutes to Phoebe, then turns on his heel to head upstairs to your bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and slips under the covers. The curtains are pulled, and it’s dark in the room despite the fact that it’s only the middle of the morning.

You’re barely awake, but you’ve tried your best to stay conscious until Jamie got there. You wiggle close to him and let him pull you into his arms.

“Kid’s fucking great, huh?” he whispers into your hair.

“Hm,” you agree.

“Mum said she’ll be down in a coupla days to help out. Simon’s coming too. Is that alright?”

“Don’t care,” you say. “I need sleep, babe. Kid’s seven days old and I am already wiped out. How’m I supposed to do this for eighteen years?”

Jamie’s rubbing circles on your back, and the only thing keeping you from sleep is the thought that you might not be cut out to be a mother.

“You’ve got me,” he says. “You’re not alone, babe, plus Phoebe can babysit in another three years.”

“I am not leaving George with a thirteen-year old,” you reply. “Nothing against Phoebs, but I can barely leave him with my brother right now without worrying about him. I just wish Molly weren’t so busy because I really, really need her right now.”

A tear leaks out of your eye onto Jamie’s shirt, but he doesn’t care. “It’s alright, babe,” he says, “swear down. Mum’s a fuckin’ genius with babies. She raised me, didn’t she? And I was a fucking handful.”

That just makes you cry even harder. “I want my mum, Jamie. Why did she have to go? I wish- I wish she and dad didn’t leave us. She’s supposed to be here, supposed to help with George and hold my hand and tell me I was the exact same when I was a baby but no she and dad had to fuck off to Paris or something stupid when I was two and leave me and Molly with our cousins! It’s shit. How can you just walk out on your own kids?”

Jamie kisses your forehead and says, “Oi, look. You’re already miles better at being a mum because you’re never going to walk out on George. And mum loves you, mostly because you make sure I eat real food, but she’ll stay as long as you need. I’m off training for another week, besides. Don’t have to go back just yet.”

You sniffle. “I should’ve had him during the off season.”

“Oh yeah, because we planned George’s conception all proper-like,” Jamie retorts.

You’re silent and for a moment he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, except you shudder once, so he knows you’re still crying. Jamie holds you as tight as he can, at a loss for words. He’s pretty sure you’re just tired with fucked-up hormones and that either Molly or his mum knows how to handle this, but for now he’s at a loss for a solution. He’s trying to think of something to say when you beat him to it.

“Do you think his middle name’s dumb?”

That is certainly not what he expected to hear. “Fuck no,” he replies. “George Kent Tartt? Kid’s going places with a name like that.”

You sigh. “He’s gonna fucking hate us for that. Shit, we should’ve done something normal.”

“How the fuck is ‘Kent,’ not normal? Y’know what’s mental? The fact that me mum named me ‘James Tartt.’ Come on, babe. Jam Tart? That’s all I ever got called in primary school.”

“I did veto a lot of your choices,” you murmur.

Jamie shakes his head. “You did, didn’t you? Shame. Kid could’ve been named ‘Apple Tartt.’ He’d’ve fucking loved that.”

“For sure,” you agree. Jamie’s glad to hear that your voice is returning to its normal, sleepy state so he tries to stay as still as possible. Sure enough, you emit a small snore less than a minute later. Jamie smiles to himself and closes his eyes. He thinks he can hear Roy saying something to George and/or Phoebe, so he lets himself drift off with you.

[444takeomi]

WHEN YOU’RE SICK

: ̗̀➛ summary: 1st gen bd taking care of their sick s/o

character(s): shinichiro sano, wakasa imaushi, takeomi akashi, keizo arashi

warnings: none

wc: 0.5k

a/n: i'm sick right now and i wish i had someone to take care of me, so i decided to write this instead💀 also i’m trying out a slightly different format for shorter posts like this one, not sure how i feel about it yet

: ̗̀➛ shinichiro

shin will literally drop everything to take care of you if he finds out you're sick. it doesn't matter if he's busy at work, he’ll close the bike shop without a second thought — you're always his number one priority, especially when you're not feeling well. he feels terrible when he comes home to find you all wrapped up in blankets, your voice scratchy as you weakly ask him if he can make you something to eat. he tries to make you homemade miso soup but he’s literally hopeless at cooking, so he ends up just making instant ramen instead. shin will cuddle with you and watch your favourite movies and tv shows, not worried about the fact he could get sick himself — he's willing to risk it if it means you start feeling better.

: ̗̀➛ wakasa

waka is already a clingy boyfriend, but when you're sick he’s extra affectionate with you because he knows you're not feeling well. he makes you something simple to eat like okayu (rice porridge) because it's easy on the stomach, but also because he’s not that great at cooking either. if you're feeling up to it he’ll run you a warm bath and will offer to help you wash your hair. he gets all pouty if you refuse to kiss him in fear of him getting sick, insisting that he’ll be fine and that one kiss won't hurt — however he ends up regretting his choices the following week, whining to you that he doesn't feel good. you have to spend the next few days taking care of him, and good luck because waka is so dramatic when he's sick.

: ̗̀➛ takeomi

omi was always responsible for taking care of his younger siblings when they got sick, and so he doesn't mind doing the same for you. he might complain about it a little, acting like your sickness is somehow an inconvenience to him, but underneath all that he's actually really worried about you and wants to do whatever he can to help you get better. he hates cooking with a passion, but he will go to the store for you instead and get you whatever you want to eat, as well as some tissues and medicine. omi will roll his eyes whenever you ask him to cuddle with you, but he always gives in because he secretly likes how needy you get when you're sick — he won't admit it out loud but he thinks it's adorable.

: ̗̀➛ keizo

benkei is so attentive when you're sick, you won't have to lift a finger. he has no problem with taking time off at the gym so that he can take care of you. unlike the others, he's a great cook and will happily make you homemade chicken noodle soup — he insists on feeding it to you even if you're perfectly capable of eating by yourself. he keeps on top of your medicine and checks your temperature throughout the day, just to make sure that your fever isn't getting too high. he also encourages you to drink herbal teas like ginger or peppermint, because they can help you feel less congested and reduce nausea. benkei wants to do everything he can to make sure that you're feeling better as soon as possible.

please do not translate, repost, or share my writing on any other platforms eg. tiktok

[thebloodthatmadeyou]

hi wat were u going to do with the fic elysium

HELLOOO!

so, for the people who don't know, i was writing a jegulus royal au — "the elysium", indeed — but I don't have the time to keep going and i want to focus entirely on my dystopian novel, so i asked the people who were reading the fic to follow me here.

but let's go back to the question.

so, to be honest, it was going to have quite A LOT of angst (major character death was one of the tags), so you're kinda lucky that i ended it when i did. let's start from where the story ended, though. i'm gonna explain this like ass, but bear with me.

euphemia and fleamont were going to abdicate and there was going to be james' coronation as king and regulus' coronation as king consort — shortly later, walburga and orion were going to leave the elysium to return in the north, while bellatrix, lucius and narcissa remained there (euphemia offered for them to stay because narcissa was pretty close to term, but kinda also to have them in sight)

then i was going to write a few chapters of bliss on jegulus' part, so that i could focus on progressing a little with wolfstar and nobleflower. there's a literal honeymoon phase, a lot of kissing, a lot of romance, but a little out of touch from reality. no hard conversations YET. but then i was going to write about james and regulus attending a public event to celebrate their coronation and there is an assassination attempt: james' food is tasted and the food taster drops dead.

after the attempt, the bliss is OVER. regulus is forced to come to terms with two simple facts: one, that his family is actually trying to kill james, and two, which is that james is mortal. regulus blames himself and the weight of james' mortality is suddenly too much, bringing him to distance himself.

at this point, for a while, they are both a wreck. they literally can't look at each other without fighting or feeling like shit. in the meantime, regulus is avoiding both sirius and bellatrix: sirius because he was right, and bella because she had most certainly something to do with the assassination attempt. so he seeks refuge in narcissa. cue to them bonding about having little to no say in their life, except — let's be real — narcissa has it much worse. while they're talking, narcissa goes into labour.

i would have loved to actually write the scene surrounding draco's birth because i think it was the event that solidified narcissa and regulus' relationship. it's also interesting because, no matter all the family drama (to say the least), sirius and bellatrix were there too. also, i just fucking LOVE writing mothers [snippet incoming]

james, being king, has to be sort of the one to "christen" draco and to proclaim him a lord of house malfoy. he visits narcissa the next day (regulus is still there) and does the "christening". regulus is kind of able to look at him be with narcissa (because mind you, narcissa does like james, and the feeling is mutual) and not feel completely hopeless for a second, but he's still kind of skittish and james is still too hurt that regulus pulled away. they try to talk afterwards but another big ass fight ensues.

james starts feeling sick, though. badly. sirius was spending the night with him (codependent prongsfoot, here we go) and james started convulsing, fever spiking and everything. sirius runs to tell regulus and james is just not responding. they're trying to figure out what might have caused this. the only plausible response, since james was literally okay hours prior to this, was that he was somehow still poisoned. they all go insane, with evan — being master of spies — going through the event over and over with regulus. there seems to be no explanation, because james had drunk and eaten nothing. then regulus remembers that james had received flowers from a servant girl, which he dramatically smelled to make her happy. evan checks on that servant girl and finds her also ill. so this girl was used to poison james through flowers. both evan, the healers and alchemists of the elysium work together to find an antidote. meanwhile, regulus is a mess. actually, everybody is.

they end up finding an antidote and james does wake up. there is a very emotional moment between him and regulus. basically, regulus asks him to forgive him and tells him he'd like to try again, taking it one day at a time as if they were ordinary.

more chapters to focus on nobleflower and wolfstar, while regulus does his duty as king consort as james recovers. at the end of one particular chapter, i was going to have the readers find out that regulus has found the proof he needs "through the mouth of a traitor" and declared war to the north. in a little section right after, we have bellatrix crying and panicking to narcissa because her lover, rita, has disappeared into thin hair. later, the readers would have read a small section of evan, singing about catching rats in the crypt, moving rita's body on a little chariot. it's implied it was her who poisoned james through the servant girl.

this is where things get TOUGHHH. hearing of regulus' war declaration, bellatrix runs through the tunnels with lucius, and draco is kidnapped by his father. although in bad shape, james immediately sends his knights (including remus) after them. the thing is, that was taken as a cue for northern loyalists to attack the palace at night, through those same tunnels, as the knights are away.

long story short??? HELL ENSUES.

regulus gets stuck in a room with barty — and they both can fight but. yk. barty tells regulus he's gonna hold the loyalists back and to go get james, because he's still in bad shape and remus, his literal sworn protector, isn't even there because james sent him to get draco for narcissa. so regulus does but you would have later discovered that evan found barty's dead body blocking the door so that nobody would get to reg. soooo. death number one.

sirius is fighting, trying to protect euphemia and fleamont as they make their way to james. euphemia dies, struck by an arrow. sirius is taken and fleamont is left for dead (but he isn't)

regulus is taken because sirius is being held hostage

meanwhile, james is giving sickly demon (and doesn't know about his mother dying, quite obviously), making his way to regulus through tunnels and secret doors, killing everything that moves. and he's just late enough to not only see sirius and regulus BOTH being taken away, but to find out that peter died trying to defend the entrance to the tunnel.

i'm gonna leave you to just imagine the aftermath of this one attack and james' mental state.

remus returns with the other knights to absolute HELL. and he didn't even manage to get draco back, but lost a shit ton of his knights instead, including marlene.

james is literally mad with grief and rage and he names his father regent. he decides to do the one unexpected thing, which is to go get regulus and sirius back alone, just accompanied by remus.

long story short, they get divided to find sirius and regulus more quickly and basically to kill orion and walburga, and thus end the war. remus is the one to find and free sirius and together they find walburga, whom sirius stabs to death. yayyy matricide

james finds regulus already wrestling with orion, because my feral boy managed to free himself. and, as orion had his hands around regulus' neck, james killed him with his spear.

bellatrix and lucius actually ended up going back for narcissa in an attempt to kidnap her too, but narcissa literally sets lucius on fire for taking her son and bellatrix throws herself in the ocean after realising how much narcissa hates her after her betrayal.

the rest would be basically the aftermath of everything, plus a happy and bittersweet epilogue

sooo, i guess that's your answer! i only explained the plot points for jegulus because that was the main ship but there you go!

i hope you're satisfied with the outcome :)

[toonice113]

SICK DAY UPDATES ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ IWHEO AU

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ im so excited to write more of this but have been blanking on ideas so ive opened up my asks if you guys want to send some requests either about this AU or other stories!

It wasn’t often that the twins were separated, in fact the most time they spent apart was still within the walls of the apartment, but today was different, Maeve had a fever that Arya didn’t want Milo to contract and her sister had to work all day today. Luckily Luke had a free day and was able to come in and take care of his baby boy while Arya made sure their daughter, who had become a velcro baby while sick, was good. 

“Are you sure?” Arya asked Luke after finally putting Maeve down for a nap that would hopefully last more than 15 minutes this time

“Yeah, a bunch of the guys will be there” Luke said bouncing the blonde baby in his arms “It’ll just be a few hours and we’ll be back before dinner” 

“Fine but if anything happens and I mean anything, you call me yeah?” Luke nodded and let Arya say her goodbyes before leaving for Dawson’s apartment.

It wasn’t that Arya didn’t trust him, Luke had  proven to her that he was amazing dad even before the twins were born, but she had yet to spend more than a couple minutes away from her babies and the thought of not having her son with her, especially when she had another sick baby with her made her a bit anxious.

Luke was away for only four hours before bringing Milo back home but those four hours were filled with messages from Arya asking for updates and picture responses from Luke who for the first time was on the other side of these updates as it was usually him asking for them when he was away on roadies.

Luke 🫄

so hows it going?

We havent even left yet

Literally still on the elevator

Okay lmk when you arrive 

👍

We’ve made it and milo has reunited with uncle jack

Hows Maeve doing?

She’s okay

We’re watching moana

How’s milo doing?

He’s helping dawson cook 

Make sure he doesn’t eat anything

he shouldnt please

I got it dw

Just checking in and giving you a heads up that its close to milo’s feeding time so he might get fussy

He pulled jack’s hair so hard he cried

But it’s all good now 

Cap’s got him

How are you holding up? 

He wouldn’t let anyone but nico hold him

Then fell asleep immediately

Hi checking in again

Maeve’s fever has gone down 

I think she’s feeling much better 

What about you guys?

We’re on our way back, walking to the car with jack now 

[aller-geez]

hii, saw your last reblog, the bronchitis scenario, and now i need a svelex fic/art about it 🙏🙏

Hey there Nonny! Okay I literally love you sm for this req, bc usually I don’t write dramatic fics, (and granted, this might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I digress…)

But oh my god, this is definitely my favorite Svelex fic to date, although @thekinkyleopard may disagree whenever she comes back and reads the 300 fics I’ve written since she’s been online 😂

It’s not technically a snzfic cause the prompt was about bronchitis, but definitely very whumpy at least •⩊• so I hope you enjoy it!

I also was so excited to post it that I didn’t really draw a cover, I just slapped some text on a gif so there’s that ˙ᵕ˙ 2.5k words

⤹ The prompt nonny is referring to is this one ⤸

This was supposed to be a kind of a follow up for Live, Laugh, Lose Consciousness found here, but doesn’t actually have any context so do with that what you will~

Elex had never been good at handling emotions. Anger? That was easy. Frustration, violence, resentment? Second nature. But this—this tight, twisting feeling in his chest as he sat on their couch, cradling S7en’s overheated, miserable body against him—this was something else entirely.

The kid was burning up, fever pressing into Elex’s skin through the thin, sweat-damp fabric of his hoodie. His hands, calloused and rough from years of fights and harder living, felt clumsy as they adjusted the nebulizer mask over S7en’s flushed face. The mist curled out from the edges, visible in the dim glow of the TV’s silent menu screen. He didn’t know how long they’d been sitting here, but his legs were going numb under S7en’s weight—not that he gave a shit.

The wheezing was bad. Worse than bad.

Every breath S7en managed to pull in rattled through his lungs like broken glass, thick and wet and wrong. It was the kind of sound that made something animal deep in Elex’s gut tighten in instinctive dread. This was bad. Too fucking bad.

S7en stirred against him, whimpering softly in his sleep before a cough wracked through him, convulsing his thin frame so hard Elex had to tighten his grip to keep him upright. The coughing fit went on longer than it should have, deep and raw, until S7en made this awful little sound—like he was drowning. Elex clenched his jaw, shifting his mate just enough to rub slow, grounding circles against his fevered back.

"Easy, dumbass," he muttered, voice lower than usual, almost gentle. “Breathe through it.”

Not that S7en had much of a choice.

His breath hitched weakly, another wheeze scraping its way out before he slumped heavier against Elex’s chest, boneless and exhausted. His head lolled to the side, cheek pressing into the crook of Elex’s shoulder, mouth falling slack with hoarse, congested snores that were barely distinguishable from his wheezing.

Elex swore under his breath.

This was not just bronchitis anymore. He’d seen S7en sick plenty of times—hell, the guy caught everything like a damn sponge—but this? This was the worst yet. Every inhale sounded like a battle, and every exhale took just a little too long to come.

Elex wasn’t a doctor. Didn’t know shit about medical stuff, other than how to patch up a knife wound or pop a dislocated shoulder back into place. But he knew what it looked like when someone couldn’t fucking breathe.

His fingers found their way back into S7en’s sweat-drenched hair, combing through the tangled mess with slow, deliberate motions.

“Geezus fuck,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “You really don’t do shit halfway, huh?”

S7en whined softly in response, shifting just enough to bury himself further against Elex like he was seeking out his warmth. Elex let him.

He’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted, as long as he just—kept—breathing.

The badger was out of his depth.

He could handle a lot—had handled a lot. Fights. Crime. The constant weight of hiding who he really was. But this? Watching S7en struggle just to breathe in his arms, his chest barely rising before another wet, strained wheeze forced its way through his lungs—this was worse than any fight he’d ever been in.

The nebulizer wasn’t helping. The mist curled and dissipated into the thick air of their apartment, but S7en’s breathing wasn’t getting any easier. If anything, it was getting worse.

Elex gritted his teeth, eyes darting down to the weak rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest. Too slow. Too shallow. Every inhale was a war, every exhale a desperate, failing attempt to clear the congestion that clung like tar in his lungs.

And he wasn’t winning.

"Hey." Elex shook him gently, trying to rouse him. "S7en. Wake the fuck up."

Nothing.

S7en barely reacted—just a sluggish twitch of his ears, a pathetic little whimper as another round of coughs rattled through his fragile frame. His head lolled heavier against Elex’s shoulder, burning hot and damp with sweat, his body boneless in a way that sent a bolt of pure panic through Elex’s chest.

No. No, no, no. This was bad. So fucking bad.

He pressed his fingers against S7en’s ribs, feeling the sharp, stuttering way his breath refused to move properly, how his body worked too hard for air that just wasn’t coming.

"Fuck," Elex hissed under his breath, his grip tightening.

He should’ve seen this coming. The second that fever started climbing, the second the wheezing didn’t ease up after the first treatment—he should’ve done something. But he’d let S7en convince him it was fine, that he’d been through worse, that he didn’t need to go to the damn hospital.

And he believed him.

Like a fucking idiot.

Another strangled noise clawed out of S7en’s throat, half-cough, half-miserable gasp, and his body jolted weakly against Elex’s chest. His breath hitched. Then hitched again.

And then—stopped.

For one horrific second, there was silence.

Elex’s blood ran cold.

"Sven—!"

A choking, rasping inhale suddenly tore through the quiet, and S7en shuddered hard against him, sucking in air like a drowning man breaking the surface. His hands jerked where they were limp in his lap, weakly gripping at Elex’s hoodie like he was trying to ground himself.

The breath wheezed out of him in a shaky, half-conscious moan of pain, his chest rising in uneven, frantic movements as his body fought violently to breathe again.

"Shit, shit, shit—stay with me, kid, come on—" Elex muttered, shifting to get a better hold on him, his own heartbeat a rapid-fire thud in his ears.

S7en was barely clinging to awareness, his lashes fluttering against fever-flushed cheeks. His lips, normally some shade of cocky smirk, were pale—too pale.

Elex had seen enough.

Fuck stubbornness. Fuck whatever argument S7en was gonna put up when he got dragged into the ER. They were going.

Now.

With an iron grip, Elex hooked an arm under S7en’s legs and lifted him like he weighed nothing—because right now, in this state, he did.

S7en groaned weakly at the sudden movement, head lolling against Elex’s shoulder. His tail, usually flicking with irritation or mischief, just hung limp.

Elex’s jaw clenched.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, adjusting his hold as he strode toward the door. "But you don’t get a choice, kid."

And with that, he kicked the door open, disappearing into the cold, night air, S7en burning fever-hot against him the whole way down to his car.

Elex barely registered the sound of the car door slamming shut behind him as he maneuvered S7en into the passenger seat. His grip was too tight, too urgent, his fingers digging into S7en’s burning skin as he wrestled the seatbelt across his trembling frame. His breathing was still so wrong—fast and shallow, like his body was trying to compensate for what his lungs refused to give him.

“Stay with me, kid,” Elex muttered under his breath, fumbling with the belt buckle before finally clicking it into place. S7en didn’t respond. His head lolled against the window, his fluffy ears twitching slightly but otherwise unmoving.

Elex didn’t like that. He didn’t fucking like that.

His breath was coming fast, sharp through clenched teeth, but the only sound he was really hearing was the wheezing. The sick, labored pull of S7en's breath, like a fucking broken accordion barely holding together.

“Fucking hell,” Elex snarled under his breath, slamming the door shut hard enough to rattle the frame before bolting around the hood of the car and throwing himself into the seat. The keys shook in his hand as he shoved them into the ignition—too hard—the metallic clang echoing through the car before he twisted them with a forceful jerk. The engine roared to life, but Elex barely heard it over the pounding of his own heartbeat.

A string of curses tumbled under the badger’s breath as he slammed the gear shift into drive and tore out of the driveway, the tires shrieking as they lurched forward. He wasn’t supposed to be driving, but fuck that. Fuck everything.

He wasn’t about to let this stupid, stubborn cat die on him.

His hands were white-knuckled on the wheel. His eyes kept darting between the road and S7en, glancing over every few seconds to make sure he was still breathing.

His chest still rising? Yeah. Okay. Fuck.
But how long could he keep that up?

"Just hold on, S7en," Elex muttered, foot pressing harder on the gas. "We're almost there."

S7en had been so still, so out of it, that when he suddenly sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath and jolted forward with a strangled choke, Elex nearly swerved off the road.

"Geezus—!"

S7en gasped again, curling in on himself, his orange ears flattened completely as his claws scrabbled weakly across the fabric of his seatbelt. His breaths were shallow, coming way too fast, way too wrong.

Panic.
He was panicking.

"Hey, hey, hey—Sven—!" Elex reached over without thinking, resting a firm hand against S7en’s chest, feeling the uneven, frantic rise and fall beneath his palm. "You're okay. You're alright, just breathe, babe. Breathe slow."

S7en blinked blearily, his pupils blown wide in the dim glow of the dashboard. His chest stuttered with another ragged breath before he whined, soft and miserable. "Elex…?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you," Elex said quickly, eyes darting back to the road for a split second before locking onto him again. "We're going to the ER."

S7en’s expression barely shifted, but the little furrow between his brows made Elex know the argument was coming before the hoarse words even left his mouth.

"’m fine," S7en rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of the road beneath them. "Don’t need the—"

"Bullshit."

The word came out sharper than he intended. But Elex was done pretending this was fine, that this was something they could just ride out.

S7en flinched at the tone—then slumped back into the seat, squeezing his eyes shut.

He tried again, weaker this time. "Elex—"

"You can’t breathe, S7en."

Silence.

S7en coughed, a horrible, wrecked sound that rattled through his frame and left him panting for air. When he finally opened his eyes again, something had changed in them.

Realization.

Defeat.

And finally—reluctant, unspoken acceptance.

Elex swallowed hard. His grip tightened on the wheel.

S7en didn’t argue again.

Elex was driving like he stole the damn car, which—okay, he had stolen plenty of cars in his life, but S7en’s wasn’t one of them. Still, right now, it felt like he was outrunning something worse than the cops. He was pushing the speed limit, weaving through empty streets with white-knuckled fists, but no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t outrun the rasping, strained breaths coming from the passenger seat.

S7en’s head lolled against the window, his half-lidded, fever-glossy eyes barely tracking the streetlights as they flashed by. His mouth was parted, sucking in shallow gasps of air that weren’t nearly enough, and Elex could hear the congestion rattling thickly in his chest. Every breath sounded wrong. Too much and not enough at the same time.

Elex tried, just once, to lighten the mood. “Y’know, you bitch at me for my driving, but you’re real quiet right now,” he muttered, flicking a glance over at S7en in the dim glow of the dashboard. “Guess that means I win.”

It was meant to be teasing. Just a distraction.

But then S7en let out the weakest huff of amusement—and it shattered into a coughing fit so violent that his whole body pitched forward, his spine arching against the seatbelt. His face went red, scarlet, as he gasped and choked, his shoulders trembling with the force of each ragged hack. The sound was awful, wet and shredding, like it was scraping raw against his lungs.

“Shit, breathe—” Elex yanked one hand off the wheel, blindly reaching over to rub circles into S7en’s back as he choked. It wasn’t doing anything. It wasn’t helping. Elex gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Almost there, kid, just hold on—”

They skidded into the ER parking lot a minute later, Elex slamming the gear into park without even turning off the engine. He whipped around to look at S7en, bracing for a complaint about his driving, about whipping the car around like it was some GTA getaway.

But S7en didn’t say anything.

He just slumped weakly against the window, his usual sharp, Cheshire grin nowhere to be found. His pupils were blown wide, dazed from fever, his breaths shallow and barely moving his chest.

That was not right.

“Fuck—no, fuck that—” Elex was out of the car in a flash, yanking S7en’s door open and hooking an arm around his waist, practically hauling him out of the seat. S7en barely reacted, his legs almost folding under him the second he was upright. His tail drooped, heavy and limp, barely twitching.

That scared Elex more than anything.

He half-carried, half-dragged S7en through the sliding doors of the ER, his heart slamming against his ribs. As soon as they stepped inside, the nurses at the front desk immediately jumped to action.

“S7en? Again?” One of them—Lillian, maybe?—was already reaching for a nebulizer before Elex could even say anything. “What are we working with this time?”

“Bronchitis—maybe pneumonia, I don’t fucking know—” Elex snapped, gripping the back of S7en’s hoodie so tight his nails almost tore through the fabric. “He’s burning up, he can’t breathe, he—”

“We’ve got him.”

That was the only thing they had to say before taking S7en out of his hands, guiding him toward a room like this was routine. And, fuck, it was routine. S7en was in here so often that nobody even blinked. They just got to work.

Before Elex knew it, he was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside S7en’s bed, watching the nurses slip a nebulizer mask over his boyfriend’s face.

The first few minutes were tense—S7en sat there, glassy-eyed and swaying, chest still rattling—but after a while, the mist started working its way into his lungs. His shoulders slumped, his body slowly unwinding, like his muscles had been clenched so tight for so long that he forgot how to not be in pain.

Elex sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at him in silence. Just waiting. Watching.

S7en’s ears twitched first. Then his tail. Then his orange eyes—bleary, but focused—flicked toward Elex, catching him staring.

“…y’look like you’ve seen a ghost,” S7en murmured, voice still wrecked but a little stronger.

Elex scoffed, raking a hand through his green hair. “…Yeah, well. You weren’t exactly breathin’ a few minutes ago, dumbass.”

S7en blinked slowly, processing. Then, to Elex’s absolute horror, his lips curled into a soft, lopsided grin.

“Worried about me?”

“No.”

S7en hummed, tipping his head back against the pillow, eyes slipping shut. “Liar.”

Elex didn’t dignify that with a response. He just exhaled, leaning back in his chair, his shoulders finally losing some of the tension they’d been carrying for hours.

For now, at least, S7en was breathing.

Elex would deal with whatever came next.

The end 🖤

[oh-no-its-bird]

YOU!!!!!!

[Grabs you by the collar and shakes you]

Youuuuu...

I was scrolling around at way too late at night and saw one of your posts, and I love your posts, so I went to your blog, and bing bada boom, I see the Izuna in Wonderland post and I read through it. I enjoy the writing and the ideas and the art (how dare you be good at both writing and art (affectionate)) and I reach the end and that last drawing.

The one where Madara is like "oh yeah only the Senju could heal u so we have a peace treaty with them now-" That fucking drawing of Madara, has grabbed my by the balls and refused to let go, what the fuck.

He looks so fucking soft and sleepy but like in an unhealthy sick Victorian child way. He looks like he would tell me not to go to school tomorrow bc he likes me but I'd go anyway bc what he really means is like hey take a mental health day bc school is hell, he's just too sleep deprived to realize(care) how evil he sounds. He looks like he either has hair the texture of burnt straw or the fluffiest softest hair imaginable, no in between. He looks like he gives great hugs but could (and would and has) also use those hugs to suffocate someone to death. He looks like a sneeze could kill him and also he is the creator of every virus known to man.

It's the fucking soft yet untamed hair, the creasing and maybe slight puffiness around his eye, the slight coloring (redness I assume) to his nose, the sweat that might be nervousness, might be him having literally worried himself sick at his brother's side and now he has a fever.

I already liked the way you drew Madara, I like all your Madara drawings, but for some reason, this one broke something in me and I can't stop myself from wanting to write fanfiction while spinning this specific Madara around in my head like a rotisserie chicken. Idk if what I'm saying makes sense, it's late, I'm tired, I barely slept last night. I just want you to know that this Madara drawing now lives in my head rent free and if I ever get around to writing the various TobiMada fics in my head, this is how I will imagine him.

Also, love how draw Hashirama too. He looks like a Mii character that got ROM hacked to have a Battle Cats face. And also how grumpy and low effort Tobi looks in here too, his more detailed design is great too. Also I like how you draw Izuna- BASICALLY, I LOVE ALL YOUR CHARACTER DESIGNS, THIS ONE JUST BROKE ME FOR SOME REASON. I'M GONNA STOP WRITING NOW, I NEED TO SLEEP.

I'm fucking crying actually thank you??????? Nicest thing anyone's ever told me about my stuff, I'm gonna explode wtf

Also I can tell you haven't slept in a while so oh my god go do that

Pls take this quick Madara in thanks, I tried to do my best to draw him how I did in the Izuna in Wonderland comic but idk if I did him justice

I've been struggling to find a good way to draw him consistsntly, so I will internalize what u have told me and try to keep that sickly Victorian man energy going forward

[raptor-claw]

alright so i wrote kind of a lil teaser for my crobby fic, it’s just a first draft drabble to get my creative juices flowing but feel free to read if you think it might be something you could be interested in!

fic synopsis: after dean & sam burn bobby’s flask, bobby’s soul gets sent to hell. lucky for him though, a certain demon ensures his stay is nice and comfortable! *spoilers for supernatural seasons 1 - 8 and probably more i haven’t decided when i wanna diverge from the og story yet*

~

Bobby had been expecting it to hurt. He had been readying himself for the feeling of being burned alive, had been expecting to scream in agony just like all the other ghosts he and other hunters put to rest did. 

He had been expecting pain. 

Excruciating pain, and then just… oblivion, or whatever the hell happens when a ghost dies. He had been trying to avoid thinking that far ahead. 

And yet, all he felt was a faint sensation of warmth, like coming back home to a roaring hearth after a day hunting, and as he closed his eyes (the image of Sam and Dean’s remorseful faces burning into his eyelids) all he felt was… comfort. Relief, even. 

Then the feeling faded, but instead of the complete absence of anything like he’d been expecting, he was met with the much more puzzling result of being set on fire that was…. Absolutely nothing. 

And not the kind of nothing atheists believed in, either. Literally nothing felt different. He couldn’t hear the screams of the damned in the background, nor the celestial harmonies of the angels, and as far as he could tell, he was still the same old Bobby Singer. 

Confused, he opened his eyes, and unfortunately that only made him even more perplexed. 

He was in an office of some kind; All silver metal and black leather, like the kind of thing that fucker Roman would like, except a bit more ‘class’ and less ‘evil corporate douchebag’ (at the thought of the Leviathan, Bobby’s anger flared up again, but it was easier to squash down when he wasn’t a vengeance-crazed spectre. He knew the boys could handle Earth’s little Levi infestation, despite the urge to assist them burying itself in his stomach like a goddamned mole). Slowly, as if afraid that by making any sudden movements he would be dragged back to the mortal plane, Bobby lifted his arm and inspected it carefully. He seemed to have been reverted to the exact same way he was before his death – No pale skin, no flickery features and no murderous intentions (at least, no more than usual). So then what am I doing in this uppity place? 

“Boo.” Suddenly an accented, horribly familiar, incredibly unwelcome voice startled Bobby out of his examination. He whirled around, years of getting his ass beat by monsters kicking in as his body immediately set itself into fight mode. When he lay eyes on the well-dressed, well-damned demon standing just a few feet away from Bobby, wearing an expression like his shit don’t stink, the pieces started to fall into place within his mind. 

“Oh, balls.” 

~

hope you enjoyed this little tidbit of things to come! it’ll be posted on my ao3 as well where i'll post the full chapters if i write them so check my account out username roelovesspn if this tickled your fancy :3 if anyone has any questions regarding this fic just hmu on my inbox too (this is definitely not a way to get asks whatever do you mean-)

also special @ for @kermit-the-fag-uwu for giving me the push i needed to start writing this xD YOU HAVE GIVEN ME THE CROBBY FEVER ONCE MORE, THEY HAVE CONSUMED MY EVERY WAKING & SLEEPING THOUGHTS!!!

[green-square-anon]

Legion remix: Fairytale Night Lords (and horses)

This isn't something I have done any art or writing of yet but for ages I've had this idea of combining Night Lords with a (likely dark) fairytale theme, when they (or rather some of them) are led by Konrads child. I have the same "Legion + thing that is seemingly its oppisite" themes in mind for other primarch kids, but this might be the most well deveolped one.

I like to imagine it's some long form thing and the fan reaction was "I never thought of this combination but it works" but for now this is just a ramble.

Konrad Curzes "kill people in creative ways for minute crimes" justice being weirdly linked to/compatible with old timey fairy logic where if you break some minute rule you're tortured forever but loopholes exist.

Because of his mother the Curzeling grows up with cutesy fairytale stories of talking animals and stuff you'd see in a sylvanian families playset (this is "canon" to the Curzeling oc beyond this)

Curzeling possibly chooses this theming/aesthetic for his legion due to the cutesy fairytale stories he was raised on by his mother and/or it gets shoved down his throat by his surroundings like how canon primarchs/legion came about theirs

Alice in wonderland madness style theming for Curzes insanity (or rather how it is seen by his child) and the general frightning crazy nature of the Night Lords (crazy as in chaotic here) with Konrad Curze as the "king of hearts"

Figuratively both not litteral lighter side of this being the, well, night and dark theme of the Night Lords being themed after something much better like stargazing and nightime magic. See here

Konrad Curzes adult child has a fever dream/vision/other thing he knows isn't reality of walking the ruins of Nostramo where he sees a literal white rabbit sitting untouched on top a pile of Night Lord corspes and knows or figures out not to chase it. Even though he knows it is illogical with his (near) primarch physical abilities the rabbit remains just out of reach and just slipping out of his hands (see: him knowing this isn't real). When ignored the rabbit will try (and fail) "bait" him by running closer.

Konrad Himself did chase the rabbit

The rabbit or chasing it symbolises madness

Curzeling getting the moniker of the "fairy king" for one reason or another

This ties back to the "Lol redeemed Konrad is a dark/electric type pokemon" joke I just want dark fairy Night Lord in both type and theme

Horses/mounts:

Traditional mounts in general would be more of a hindrance than an asset to the Night Lords due to them already have super speed and endurance (and the child of the primarch definetly would) and Horses being unable to climb buildings/having shit stealth, however flying mounts would be useful and Night Lords are pretty bas at out in the open combat. Leading to this being a niche tool. HOWEVER....

The Curzeling steals a white Calibanite horse when held captive on Caliban (because reasons).

The Curzeling suprises (insert force he's attacking here) by riding said calibanite horse into a group of people, holding on to it with his thighs, stretching his arms to out to gut people with his power claws while his mount kicks people behind and pierces people infront by wearing one of those unicorn horn armor thingies (if this is right after stealing it that was probably some decorative thing). Enabling him to attack from four directions at once

Being both a farm boy who grew up with animals, including horses, and having the "climb and cling" genes of Konrad has made the Curzeling well suited for attempting to rodeo various creatures

Horse is briefly shown or offhand mentioned to be kept as a pet just wandering around the Night Fall. Because keeping a random free roaming farm animal aboard a ship is something the child of of Konrad Curze would do.

Curzeling riding this thing is seen as an in universe mockery of the "knight on a white steed" trope when tied to his (fathers) dark and cruel legion.

I think unicorns being a powerup for the dark and gritty nightmare legion is funny

Horse shows up much later (see the points about mounts having niche use case) in some climactic whatever battle outfitted with cybernetics looking like a, maybe winged, unicorn.

Due to being more intelligent than a normal horse (cybernetics or some warp shit) a function of this horse is that when civilians are placed on its back during a battle it will cary them to safety when not ridden by its owner

[berryshipbasket]

🌶️🌽(For Jiminy)🥒🥑(For Issac) 🫚🍏 (For Any)

🌶️ - does your f/o have any remedies they follow when they get sick? like taking a shot of whiskey to get rid of a fever?

Jiminy's a very "by the books" guy sometimes. Any time he gets sick he always takes the medicine he needs (even if he hates the flavour of it) and drinks plenty of water/eats plenty of hot foods.

Gonna be honest though he's also the type who is so stubborn and doesn't just stay in bed no matter how much Berry tells him to.

Truth is he wants them with him to cuddle but he doesn't want to get them sick either. He just gets very clingy when he's sick because he doesn't like how weak his body feels. Berry still absolutely snuggles with him though, regardless how sick he is.

🌽 - does your f/o have a favorite animal? what is it? are they scared of any animals?

Honestly kinda tricky to choose! I don't really feel like he has a favourite animal? But... mayhaps he's a dog/cat guy! I think after Monstro though he might have a slight fear of underwater creatures. He's only a little cricket, easy for him to get eaten.

🥒 - what's your f/o afraid of? do they have any phobias? anything minor they're scared of?

Isaac's an interesting one... You'd think he'd be terrified after everything he's been through, right? Like it's not easy to go up against hoards of Necromorphs, yet he seems just, fine.

While that is true, it's left it's mark on him... I feel Isaac definitely has a fear of sudden loud noises and needles.... If you know, YOU KNOW.

🥑 - is there any niche topics your f/o is interested in? what are they and why do they like them?

Isaac is EXTREMELY talented when it comes to mechanics and engineering! Heck it's literally his job. I believe he got into electrical and mechanical engineer because of his father who was a ship architect.

I honestly really find it interesting how skilled he is at what he does because I'm not really a mechanical person. The scene from Dead Space 2 where he makes a makeshift Plasma cutter out of bits and pieces he finds on the sprawl, it was genuinely so cool to watch him do that <33

🫚 - is your f/o a picky eater? is there any foods they will not under any circumstances, gun to their head, eat?

Gonna be honest, I think Willikers would eat almost anything. Given that he was bought to life the same way Pinocchio was, he doesn't exactly posses the same the anatomy others do! I think it greatly affects his tastebuds.

He'd pull up with the worst food combo known to man and he'd STILL stay it tastes good.

🍏 - if you have any queer headcanons for your f/o, how did they realize they were queer?

OH BOY HEHE I SURE DO!! I headcanon Willikers to be he/they nonbinary, pansexual and polyam!

I tend to write him and see him as a trans allegory. Being that he's a wood-carving bought to life, I feel he'd experience some slight dysphoria around that fact, especially whenever people refer to him as "wood" or "worm" or something to do with that, because it makes him feel less like an actual bug. To me he's also polyam because the way he and Grumblebee interact in the movie is like??? dude there's tension. Also he's my boyfriend too so hehe :3

Tag list 💛 (Hope you guyz are chill with me tagging you in these infodumps!!)

@staticshipstation @candyheartedchy @wulfums @retrotonix @lunarbun-ships @starlos-soulmate @cherry-bomb-ships @theselfshipcafe @gulbinggrape @darknoverse @rexscanonwife @orchidshroomgardenselfships @fenny-self-ships @grubgrotto-selfships @nerdk1sser @starrysweetheartships

[sobbingscripter]

…Will this be a happy ending or will I be crying again like when I watched Me Before You and I was sobbing so hard I nearly gave myself a fever 😞

Either way your writing is amazing but still 😞

If my angst manages to make you cry for more than two minutes???

I'm bragging about that shit for a lifetime, on GAWD.

Deadass starting conversations with, "hey, I'm a Taurus, and I made someone cry with my angst." Bragging literally forever, don't give me that power.

It might have a happy ending. A soft 'might' because I have been listening to like, a couple songs on rotation.

'Don't Smile' by Sabrina Carpenter. And a lot of The Marías. And specifically 'k.' by cigarettes after sex because it makes me think about a guy who makes me cry so hard, I throw up a little.

But it might be happy. Maybe. I don't know yet.

[inferencesarchives]

`•- Rest Your Head

antonio paganini x gn reader

prompt: free space

warnings: physical touch, not proofread (yet), this is so rushed im sorry :,,)) might rewrite it later

a/n: i have literally been wanting to write for antonio for almost 2 months but i had so much requests to finish. i still have some requests but i wanna focus on the event and i am unbelievably happy that i finally get to write about him oml

"What are you doing out of bed?"

You jumped slightly as Antonio suddenly came up behind you, speaking softly as he places a warm blanket around your shoulders. He sighs quietly and hugs you from behind. "You're sick, you should be resting..."

You gently nudged him and shook your head, looking over at him with a slightly tired expression, though you try your best not to show it. You shrug. "I just wanted a snack."

He huffs and tightens his hold around you ever so slightly. "If you were hungry, you could've just told me, you know. I'll get something for you; You need to focus on getting enough rest. Let's get you back to bed." Carefully, he picks you up, carrying you back to your shared bedroom with ease. He gently sets you down on the soft mattress, covering you with the rest of the blankets in order to keep you warm and comfortable. He presses a light kiss to your forehead.

"Give me just a moment, I'll get some food for you. If there's anything else you need, let me know. You know I'd never hesitate if it means making you more comfortable." He exits the room for a few minutes before returning with a small tray of food. The aroma of fresh soup wafts into your nose as he carefully places the tray in front of you.

"I could've gotten it myself, you know... I just have a cold, it's nothing serious." You grumble, but you still pick up the spoon and begin eating the soup despite the complaints. He quietly sighs and sits down on a chair next to your bed with a small, worried frown. "You keep telling me that... I just want you to focus on resting, alright? I'll take care of everything for you. You need to focus on getting better." He places a hand on your forehead for a few moments, making sure you don't have a fever. When he feels nothing out of the ordinary, he gently pats your head and slowly returns his hand to his lap. "Just... Let me know if there's anything you need, alright? I want you to recover as quickly as possible."

"I know, I know. I just don't like being sick, is all..." You shrug as you swallow several more spoonfuls of soup. He flashes a small smile, chuckling quietly at your words. He shakes his head as he speaks in a gentle tone, "No one does, my dear, but if you just let me take care of you rather than being stubborn and getting out of bed every 25 minutes, then you'll start recovering faster. Now, rest up, alright? Let me handle everything else. I don't want you to remain ill for longer than you have to."

Playfully, you roll your eyes with a small grin, accepting your defeat. You scoop the last few spoonfuls of soup into your mouth, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before taking the empty bowl from you and moving to stand. "Fine, fine. I won't be stubborn and push myself, okay? You happy?" You banter a bit, and he nods and chuckles at your playfulness. As he walks to the door, he smiles as he flicks off the light. Just before he leaves, though, he whispers.

"Get some sleep now, darling, you need it if you don't want to be sick any longer. Rest your head, you deserve it."

a/n: im probably gonna refine this later but i just wanted to go ahead and get this out cuz im super behind on the event :,) i love antonio

thanks for reading, and remember to take care of yourself!