#larynges

[keyotos]

i'm unglued, thanks to you

summary ⎯ reader is sick as a dog. unexpectedly, wriothesley comes to the rescue.

tana talks ⎯ originally this wasn't going to be very long. but SICK FIC SICK FIC SICK FIC

"on the count of three, you're gonna blow," wriothesley holds the tissue up to your nose, gently holding the back of your head upright, "one. two. three."

you use all the muscles in your face to blow into the tissue, even going so far as to lean upwards due to the force. wriothesley takes the tissue and throws it into the trash, then quickly goes to grab another one.

as you watch wriothesley rummage through the cabinets for a tissue box (you've gone through an entire one in the span of 1 hour) you mentally scold yourself. you never get sick⎯it's a personal record at this point⎯yet this week has broken that record by turning you into a sick dog.

really what happened was that you were tending to your duties in the prison: delivering supplies, shipping items, and packaging items to be sent as mail. is it a mundane job? oh absolutely⎯but it pays the bills and keeps you steady, so you don't have much to complain about.

what you expected from this job was going back and forth, packaging items, and basic delivery. what you did not expect was catching the worse cold of the century. your bones ached, your head wasn't focused, and you nearly dropped everything you held. so much so that the duke of meropide even had to check up on you.

which begs the question, how did you end up in the duke's office rather than the infirmary? well, he took you here himself. you, being in a scatter-brained state of mind, thought he would be taking you to sigewinne. and now, you are in the duke's personal care.

"good job," wriothesley with a cup and a tissue box. as he hands you the full box, you hoarse out your thanks as you sink lower into the couch.

you blow once again, trying not to get your snot onto the duke's personal couch. that would be embarrassing, and you were sure that he would never let you live the moment down. alas, you weren't sure he'd let you forget the time he personally pampered you either.

"you really didn't need to do all of this," you threw the tissues in the other empty box, "i was fine."

"you looked like you were about to pass out," he brings the warm cup towards your face. his fingers, rough and calloused, delicately tilt your head up.

"drink," he commands. though, there were no tints of dominance in his voice, only concern. just between the two of you, wriothesley's voice softened. his usual authoritative and magisterial tone dissipated, now replaced with conscientiousness and tact.

you shook your head, "i hate tea."

wriothesley sighed; not out of annoyance, but out of habit. the familiar ring of breath was commonly heard: you were very vocal about your dislike for his favorite drink.

"is now really the time to be stubborn?"

"always. especially when it's with you," you snickered. embarrassingly, your snicker quickly turned into a coughing spasm, and you had to turn your head away from wriothesley's as you coughed into your elbow. if you stopped listening to the sound of your sickness, you'd be able to hear the grand duke of meropide chuckle.

"if anything," the duke set your cup down on the coffee table, "that should've been enough to convince you to stop being stubborn. will coffee really give you the same results as tea?" wriothesley skeptically asked you.

you let out one last cough, a smaller one than the last few you had. your hand grabs the tea cup on the counter and you blow over the hot liquid. you can feel wriothesley's eyes lingering on you; you can especially feel the smirk growing on his face as he watches you take your first sip. normally, you don't give in to wriothesley's ideas: however, you are sick and you have no other choice. soldiers can't win all their battles anyway, right?

the warm liquid soothes your rough throat as you gulp it all down in one go. surprisingly, it's less hot than you thought it would be. the tea seems to be made at the exact same temperature you make your coffee. only, you don't tell anyone how to make your coffee.

you finish the drink and look up at wriothesley, about to question him on how he managed to heat your drink at the perfect temperature. but he moves first, his thumb wiping remnants of tea around the corner of your mouth.

"good job," he keeps his voice low. his expression is fond, eyebrows slightly crinkled and relaxed eyes.

you open your mouth to say something back, to ask him how he learned to make your tea, to ask him how he learned you; alas, your sickness got the better of you, and you lunged for the tissue box as a huge sneeze erupted out of you.

oh dear. how embarrassing.

wriothesley stays as you blow out all the nerves in your nose into a few sheets of tissue paper. it's an unattractive sight, to say the least. he's a better person than you: you would have walked away.

once wriothesley realizes you're almost done with your blaring, he grabs your empty cup and starts to walk towards the stairs leading to the rest of his office. but you have other plans. other questions that desperately need answers, like why you're here instead of the infirmary; why he's taking such good care of you; why he's doing this.

"wait!" you throw your tissue onto the coffee table and wrap your hand around his empty one. was it unsanitary? definitely; yet, wriothesley grabbed back immediately.

"what's wrong?" he asked urgently, his eyes traveling your body as he searched for any signs of problems.

for a moment, you didn't respond. you blamed it on the hoarseness of your voice: yeah, that was it. but it wasn't.

you were about to cough (you weren't).

you were about to sneeze (you weren't).

"uh," you swallow, your hold getting loose as you turn your body away from him, "can you stay?"

when your hand was about to slip out of his, wriothesley pulled it back in. his thumb⎯the same thumb that wiped the tea off your face⎯ran over the top of your hand, a silent pledge that he would stay. he sets your cup down and you move to make room for him. though, with the massive amount of room you gave for wriothesley, he still finds a way to be close to you, regardless of your sickness.

with how close you two are sitting, wriothesley's leg is almost intertwined with yours. he turns his body so he can fully face you; he doesn't even shy away from the fact that he may become ill as well.

"did you need anything?" he asks. his voice⎯which should echo due to the both of you being in the quiet office⎯is quiet. and you notice that he's leaning closer, only for you to be able to hear him. funny, being that the two of you are the only ones in his office at the moment. regardless, he's close.

you freeze. try to focus on anything but him. put your mind back on track. you feel foolish: pulling wriothesley towards you only to be rendered speechless when he actually comes beside you. your fingers drum from beside you, working their way to help you figure out what to say next.

"my body isn't functioning properly," you sniffle, following with a light hearted smile. you want to wince right after the words leave your mouth. "i need a caretaker." i need you.

wriothesley, who is always full of sarcastic and cheeky retorts, nods. he is aware of what you meant. he knows what it meant. that's why instead of brushing you off with a small chuckle, he shifts towards you even more and grabs a blanket from one of the couch cushions he was sitting on.

you try not to squirm when his cold hands graze your back as he puts a pillow underneath you. wriothesley slowly ushers you until you are flat on your back. he pulls your legs into his lap, and you have to hold your breath so you don't begin coughing again. it was so easy. so casual. it was as if you two were more than just consumer and supplier.

now is a good time to probably ask him questions, you thought to yourself. but once you look back up at him, you find that you've lost your tongue. because when he looks down at you, it's like all you can see are stars. and to think this was the same man who was attempting to pour tea into your mouth just a few seconds ago.

"how are you feeling?" he is the first one to break the silence. the first one to initiate anything.

you tuck yourself further into the blanket, "better, i think." you look at wriothesley, who was looking at your legs on his lap. you part your mouth to say something, but you close your lips and turn your body the other way.

you gnaw on your lip, wrapping the blanket more tightly around yourself. wriothesley's hands lie softly on your calves. you feel your breathes getting sharper and shorter at the proximity, and you squeeze your eyes shut as a way to tell your body to stop.

after a few minutes, you feel a stare crawling up your body. it trickles from your legs, to your back, to your head. you know who the culprit is, there is no need to turn back. but it still surprises you. wriothesley is still there. he's there even in the silence. he's there even when he doesn't need to be. he's here.

if you turn around right now, what will he look like? will wriothesley look dazed? annoyed? lost? will he have that gaze in his eyes⎯the one where his eyes lower just slightly that you can tell he's at ease? or will he accessorize his pinched look with crossed arms?

you take a deep breath (as deep as you can get without being blocked by congestion), trying to make your respirations as quiet as possible. then, you shuffle your body so you lie on your back instead of your side.

when you look up at him, he is shamelessly staring at you. you meet his stare with a strong gaze, and wriothesley tries to smile, but you can tell that it's faltering. he swallows as your eyes dance around his face, studying it like a textbook.

"you should probably get some rest," wriothesley pulls a pillow from his side of the couch and lends it to you. your hand reaches out to grab the pillow and your fingertips brush. and for a moment, you find that wriothesley nearly takes your hand into his. however, he pulls away promptly, like you burned him.

with a few groans and coughs, you prop yourself up on the pillows he gave you. now, you two are on the same level. it should be the perfect time to ask him the questions from earlier, right? you've mauled over your feelings, had a few moments of silence to yourself, and you felt fine interacting with him.

so why is it that you can't bear to ask the question: why are you doing this for me?

you must be delirious. the cold is making you delirious. maybe the doctor mixed up your sickness and diagnosed you with a cold rather than a high fever, because there is no reason why you should be avoiding such a simple question.

you reach for the back of your neck, and you're burning up. strange, because you were feeling cold just a few moments ago. you look back to wriothesley, who was currently tapping the couch arm across from you.

"can i ask you something?" you say, breaking the long silence between the both of you.

his head instantly turns back around, "sure," he says a little too quickly.

"why..." you pause, picking at the couch fabric, "why did you choose to personally take care of me?"

wriothesley's hand drops from the couch arm. he looks off over to his desk and you can see him adjust his tie. your eyes follow wherever his are, attempting to decipher whatever he was doing.

finally, he turns back to you, "what if i just liked to take care of my favorite supplier?"

damn him; he answered your question with a question. you know that you probably shouldn't press on, especially if he is avoiding the question. but you have to know. why not bring you to sigewinne? why not send you back to the overworld? why sit here with you, doing nothing?

"first of all," you were cut off with a cough, "i'm your only supplier. second, would you do this for monsieur neuvillette?"

wriothesley's eyes bulged at the mention of neuvillette, "um, what?"

"i bet he's your favorite chief justice."

"he's the only chief justice."

"and would you take care of him the same way you took care of me?" you raise an eyebrow.

you imagine wriothesley will say something on the lines of, "that correlation made no sense," but he is quiet. the tips of his ears are slightly red, and he shoved his hands into his pant pockets.

"i'm guessing the answer is no?" you remove your legs off of wriothesley's lap and curl them into you. wriothesley's eyebrows slightly raise up due to the lost of contact. you pretend not to notice.

"i care about you," he looks down at the floor, and then turns back up, "i care a lot. so when i saw you on the verge of fainting⎯i just... i didn't want to leave you alone. it's not about tea either. i care for you.

plus, this is a way to reimburse you after you gave me all those free samples."

you understand. it clicks. wriothesley, who has never had a stable life. wriothesley, who did not have a good support system. wriothesley, who grew up in a careless household.

i care about you, i care for you. the back of your neck gets hotter, and this time you're unsure if it's a fever or something else.

"you don't have to pay me back for the samples. that's why they're free," you look down, your teeth biting the bottom of your lip to keep you from smiling.

"for the record, i give you those because i care about you too," you smile. it's not faltering. it's not fake. it's real, and it shows that you care.

your hand slides over to the side of wriothesley's thigh, urging his hand to intertwine with yours. you look at him again, lightly poking his thigh to send him the message.

wriothesley grabbed your hand like it was the last thing he ever needed before death. his thumb brushed over your hand again, and you feel yourself gulping.

"do you want to share the couch?" you lean back down on your back, removing one of the pillows and still holding onto wriothesley's hand.

"there's not gonna be enough room," wriothesley chuckles and scoots closer to you.

"i'll make enough room," you begin shuffling onto your side, creating a huge gap between the back of the couch and you.

"what if i get sick?" wriothesley jokes.

you playfully scoff back at him, "please. you've made it this far anyway," you turn onto your other side to see wriothesley, "come on. it'll be fine. we won't fall. you'd probably catch me in your sleep or something before i fall."

wriothesley pulls at his tie again, "fine. just this once," he says, even though he knows that this will be one of many.

your smile is enough to bring a year's worth of sunlight into the fortress of meropide. wriothesley doesn't see the sun often, but when he does, he is surprised it doesn't look like you.

wriothesley takes his spot behind you on the couch. you move to lay on the edge of the couch, but he pulls you closer just in case. you're a few centimeters away from his shirt; it seems like wriothesley is eager, yet still wants to maintain some distance.

his arms flop over your body as he buries his face into one of your (his) pillows. his head is right next to yours. for someone so cold (physically), his body temperature became warmer. you turn your head to the side so you can get a good look at him, but he's out like a light.

throughout the night, wriothesley's head shifts closer and closer to you. to others, like sigewinne, it seems like his body has a mind on his own: she found the two of you sleeping together in his office; she saw wriothesley's head buried in the crook of your neck; she saw his arms wrapped around your waist; and most of all, she saw that his face lit up, just like yours.

[goldenpinof]

S tier moment

[cryscendo]

the ABCs of KEH: D IS FOR… DAD

I don't believe in God, Dad. But I believe in you and I believe in us. You and me, that's what's sacred to me.

[gleesongtournament]

If you clicked the read more I just want to say a big THANK YOU for being part of this tournament. Whether you've been following from the start or you just recently caught wind of it, your opinions and your votes are heard and appreciated

Please just be mindful of the fact that there is actually a person behind this. Someone who's spent nearly half a year planning and executing this tournament, someone who's posted over 800 polls for the sake of a little fandom fun, someone who sees all your comments

At the end of the day, it's not that serious. Everyone has their own opinions. Win or lose, your faves are valid

[athemisheart]

There's a new CPR video!

Well, the person who requested it decided to delete their account... If you are interested, send me a DM! It is not something cheap because it requested the use of a laryngeal mask/CPR/ambu bag/foot angles/nakedness, etc⚠️ (20min⌛️)

[professornightmare]

In a not-too-distant future where the birth rate is almost zero, creating a social and economic collapse, all fertile women must enter the government's special program.

[speakergame]

Progress Update - 6/27/23

hello, my darlings! long time no see

thank you all for your patience and supportive messages during my long and unannounced radio silence. I've been a bit under the weather the last couple of months. nothing life-threatening, but severe enough to knock me on my ass for a while.

I'm getting my balance again, slowly. I've had a lot of time to write and brainstorm while I've been out, so there's that! still no ETA on the update, beyond the ever-unsatisfactory Soon™ but progress is being made! I've paused Patreon for July, but hopefully it'll be the last month I need to do that and I'll have something concrete to show by this time next month 🤞

I'd also like to get back in the habit of regular progress updates, but we'll have to see how my continued recovery goes.

thank you for reading and for waiting, I hope you all have a fantastic week, and I'll see you next time 💙💙💙

[astridellejo]

For the last three years I've gotten seasonal laryngitis nearly every spring and autumn when the temperature changes. Last year when my voice cut out in the spring, I decided to start learning ASL by watching videos on YouTube. This year I discovered my local community college has ASL classes. So I signed up.

I got my normal seasonal laryngitis in mid-September a couple weeks before classes started, but it was taking a lot longer than usual for my voice to recover. Like a lot longer. I had a scratchy raw voice for six weeks. Then in November I got Covid for the first time and it has completely demolished what remained of my voice. I haven't been able to speak above a whisper for ten weeks now. So it's a good thing that I've started learning ASL in a classroom setting, because I think I'm gonna have to know it moving forward.

In theory I have a referral from my doctor to see a specialist. But who knows when that will happen. I may already have permanent damage to my voice. I guess that's a bummer, but I honestly don't mind too much because it turns out I really fucking love sign language. It's like dancing, or casting a spell, or both. I wish I had learned it thirty years ago. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like a flailing child trying to use it in public now.

[Text in comic reads: My voice died again. It happens sometimes. So I decided to do something for the next time it goes out.]

[gleecontext]

GLEE S01E18 Laryngitis

[nordicmedfet]

Imagine...

Imagine having a mask held tightly to your face, with gas blowing on to your face, making its way into your lungs.

Imagine someone opening your mouth, wide open. Putting a laryngeal mask airway down your throat. Imagine someone slowly inflating the cuff, making the mask settle deep in your throat.

Imagine that overwhelming feeling of exitment of beeing anaesthetised, intubated and operated on

[fullmetalscullyy]

its royai week writing time hehehehe

[cryscendo]

the ABCs of KEH: A IS FOR…. ASCOTS

Blaine and I love football! Well, Blaine loves football. I love scarves.

[nicoscheer]

X

X

[brainzzzeater]

Either there are a lot of spideypool truthers out there hiding in the shadows or Deadpool is just so gay for Spider-Man that the general public can’t help but bring it up all the time

[professornightmare]

Go to sleep, all will be fine.

[fagus-sylvatica-beech-hedge]

screaming, shaking, crying, throwing up, clawing at the walls, chewing on glass (dan and phil games haven't uploaded in 8 days)