#poor sickly bugs

[onioneyez]

Happy 420!

I didn’t want to actually have to pick up the leech or the crane fly larva to pretend to smoke it so please use your imagination

[lovebugism]

“i’m tireddd.”

*in a whiny voice* “i’m tired.” *mocking them*

this is sooo eddie coded

ty for feeding my grumpy eddie obsession anon — grump!eddie's boyfriend instincts take over when you're sleepy (ditzy!reader-ish, established relationship, fluff, 0.6k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

There’s something heavy in Eddie’s lap. Something heavy and warm and smelling like a fresh shower.

He fights open drooping eyelids, not knowing when he’d dozed off or how long he’d dozed off for — or exactly when you crawled haphazardly into his lap. He figures it couldn’t have been that long ago. ‘Cause his show is still on, and you’re still shifting to get comfortable over his legs.

“What are you doing?” he asks you, voice thick with sleep until he clears it away. 

You’ve got yourself curled in a tight ball, trying to make yourself as tiny as possible so you can fit more of yourself in his lap. The effort is futile. Only half you thrown over half of him. It doesn’t look comfortable in the slightest, but you settle with a contented sigh like you are, anyway. Eddie smooths a warm hand over your back and lets you lie there, on top of him.

“Laying on you,” you answer, muffled against him.

“Okay… Why?”

“‘Cause I love you.”

“Boo,” he moans. “Too vague.”

You whine. “Today was just so long, and I’m sooo tireddd.”

“Aww, you’re tired?” Eddie coos in a mocking voice. “You poor baby.”

He uses his sarcasm to compensate for how sweet he is to you. He acts annoyed but grabs a blanket from the back of the couch to drape over you anyway. Even goes as far as to swaddle you in it when he resituates you in his lap, sitting you more wholly over his thighs.

Vulnerability has always been hard for him, only ever feasible when he pretends it’s insincere.

“Is this better?” he mumbles into your hair.

You hum, warm against his neck. “Mhmm.”

“Good. ‘Cause you’re blocking the TV.”

“Don’t act like you’re not enjoying this,” you tease and pull slightly back from him. The tip of your nose runs up his jaw to the apple of his cheek. “There’s a reason I call you Teddy, you know?”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re soft. And fuzzy. And you love to cuddle.”

Eddie squints at you. “…You just made all that up.”

“You can like me, you know? We’re not in high school anymore, Teddy.”

“I always liked you,” he scoffs and holds you tighter against him, one arm around your back and the other beneath your knees. “Even before you knew I existed.”

“I always knew you existed!”

“Yeah? Since when?”

“Mr. Hauser’s Sex Ed class. Freshmen year. He was like, ‘That’s how the homo sapien male holds an erection—’” You recite it like it’s something you think about often. A reminiscent smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “—And the boy with the grown-out buzz cut behind me said, ‘Actually, Mr. Hauser, I think an erection is better held in the hand of the homo sapien female.’” 

Eddie laughs at the long-gone memory and starts to sparkle with it.

“And I’ve been smitten over that boy ever since,” you tell him with a sickly-sweet smile.

He scrunches his nose in disgust, still not used to the affection you show him so effortlessly. “You had a crush on me in ninth grade?” he teases like he hasn’t loved you since eighth.

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “Still do.”

“That’s so gross,” he grumbles like a storm cloud right before hugging you that much closer. 

He holds you with firm hands, suffocating in the best of ways, with every intention to melt with you. The bridge of his nose smushes into your neck. He inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of your shampoo. His exhale fans warm against your skin.

“Too gross to kiss?” you wonder in a tiny voice.

“Yes,” he answers quickly as he pulls away. “But I like gross, so…”

You press a smacking kiss to his plush grin. Then another for good measure. You hug him closer and bury your face into his neck. “Mm. You taste like a TV dinner,” you mumble into his skin.

Eddie tries hard to hide his laughter. It bubbles from his throat like sunshine, anyway.

[love4myg]

melted kisses | myg

summary. yoongi's kisses are always sickly sweet. but the taste of melted sugar on his lips makes you crave him more than the plate of sugar coated fruits.

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pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship au

word count: 1.9k

summary: yoongi and reader makes tanghulu together / yoongi very midly burns himself / makeout session ensues after their cooking / reader is elementary school teacher

warnings: making out, allusions to sex

a/n: yay im finally finished with exams!!! this was supposed to be posted next week but it's bts' 11th anniversary so 😋 also im very sorry that the drabbes are jumping around in the timeline, i will eventually put them in chronological order

main masterlist

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"I'm an amazing cook, I don't know what you're on about," Yoongi grumbled as he pulled your back closer against his bare chest. You whined as the cool metal of the silver necklace he wore pressed against your back which caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

“I’m just saying. I’m not the one who blended chicken and other shit into a smoothie so I didn’t have to cook for the rest of the day.”

“That was one time. I’m a changed person now, love.”

"Whatever you say, babe."

You giggled softly and Yoongi huffed into your shoulder before he placed a soft kiss against your naked skin.

"You just can't admit that I'm a better cook than you."

You rolled your eyes at his words and turned your head slightly in an attempt to look at him. You could just about see his tired eyes that were closed shut.

"Fine. Next time we're both free, we're making tanghulu."

A lazy smile tugged at the corners of Yoongi's lips as his eyes scrunched into crescent moons.

"You were just waiting for an excuse to make tanghulu, weren't you?"

You hummed in response. You had mentioned the sweet snacks to him frequently, sending him numerous videos with recipes on how to make them.

"Yep. And you fell right into my trap," you giggled. You felt as Yoongi's body shook with airy laughter behind you.

"Ah, you're so annoying."

"You love me anyway," you said with a grin.

"I know," he whispered. He brushed aside your hair to press a kiss onto your temple and drifted off into a peaceful slumber within a few minutes.

────

In all honesty, Yoongi had completely forgotten about your agreement. He had thought you would too, as you were both too giddy and drunk on sex.

But when you arrived home after work the next day with a bag full of ingredients, the only words that stumbled from Yoongi’s mouth were to ask you why you hadn’t used his card to buy everything.

“It’s fine, I had cash on me,” you say, swatting away his words as you place the bag onto the marble countertops.

“Still.” Yoongi’s eyes watch your movements as you begin arranging all of the ingredients into different plates and bowls. 

“Babe, it’s not like I’m poor or something. Plus, I’m the one forcing you to do this.”

A sly smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you look back at him, and he playfully rolls his eyes before making his way over to you.

"Are you sure you don't want to rest or something? You just came back from work," he says as you start cutting the leaves of the strawberries off.

"Mhm, I’m sure. Can you get the small pot for me? The one we used for ramen yesterday."

Yoongi obliges and places the pot on the stove. You take the bowl of strawberries and bring it under the sink to rinse them. 

It wasn’t often that you would eat strawberries, always complaining about the millions of bugs within them. So when you did decide to have them, you made sure that they were squeaky clean even though it took more time. Yoongi thought they tasted the same either way, but never complained about your antics. 

During the early stages of your relationship, you both rarely got to spend time with each other, whether it was due to his work life or your college classes. Your preferences and quirks meant that a few extra minutes could be spent in your presence, so it didn't bother him in the least.

He moves to the rest of the ingredients and spots three tangerines lying together in a glass bowl.

"You got tangerines?" he asks, taking one into his hands. He throws it into the air like a tennis ball and catches it with ease.

You nod eagerly, a smile plastered onto your face as you look up at him.

"You love them so I wanted to try them out along with the strawberries and grapes. If we end up not liking it, you can have the rest."

Yoongi simply smiles as you bring the freshly cleaned strawberries back to the counter, a familiar, warm feeling tugging at his heartstrings.

He listens to the recipe you read off from your phone and places half a cup of sugar into the pot of water to melt before making his way behind you. He wraps his arms around you and lightly squeezes your body.

He had missed the warmth of your skin against his, and the light smell of your signature perfume. He had even missed the way your voice melodically bounced off the walls of his usually silent home.

Was he being dramatic about you being gone for nine hours? Yes. Was he going to stop? No.

"How was work?"

He places a kiss against your neck before moving his head down to rest on your shoulder, his narrow eyes watching you work carefully. 

"Good. A kid called me mom today and it was literally the cutest thing!"

He laughs softly as you place the knife down and bring your hands to your heart to emphasise your point.

"Mhm, that is cute."

A beat of silence passes before he whispers into your ear.

"I missed you."

It's embarrassing how fast the heat rises to your cheeks at his words, even after this many years of being together.

"I missed you too."

By the time you finish peeling the tangerines, cutting the strawberries and plucking the grapes off their stems, the sugar has fully melted. It would've taken half the time if you had an extra pair of helping hands, but you didn't want Yoongi's arms to move from where they rested around your waist.

Unfortunately, he's forced to peel away from your body as you lower the heat of the thick syrup and begin pushing the pieces of fruit onto skewers.

You playfully scold Yoongi whenever you catch him plopping one into his mouth before asking him to feed you one too.

"We need to stop, or there's gonna be none left by the end," Yoongi says, and you sigh in agreement.

Still, you sneak a slice of tangerine into your mouth, simply placing a peck on Yoongi's lips when he catches you.

In a few minutes, you have two plates filled with multicoloured fruits on skewers ready to be dipped.

You work carefully with the sugar syrup, and you’re surprised at how well the first few pieces turn out. 

"See, I told you! I'm just such an amazing cook," you say, waving the freshly coated skewer in front of him.

"This isn’t even that hard. Here, let me try."

Yoongi moves you to the side and takes a skewer. He tilts the pot to the side and rolls the fruits into the syrup, thickly coating it. He then puts it into a bowl of ice water for it to cool and begins working on the next one.

This time, however, he happens to reach too far into the pot and manages to dip the tip of his finger straight into the melted sugar. 

The hot substance takes a few seconds to do damage, giving Yoongi enough time to place the skewer into the water before swiftly pulling back his hand.

"Shit."

He wipes off the hardening liquid onto a small towel, but it leaves his skin red and angry.

"Babe, I told you to be careful! Are you OK?"

You step towards him and take his hand into yours. It wasn't serious, but there was now a tiny bump forming on the pad of his index finger.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It isn't even that big, see?"

"And? You still burned yourself," you huff.

Without another word, you look through the cabinets to find the burn ointment you had bought months ago as Yoongi protests.

"Seriously, love, it's fine. It doesn't hurt or anything."

"Still."

You successfully locate the ointment within your medicine box. You never really knew why Yoongi kept it in the kitchen, but his actions had proved useful.

You unscrew the cap and apply the tiniest amount onto his finger. He winces as you rub it into his skin, and you whisper an apology.

"There. Now, you've been fired as my co-chef and this also clarifies that I am clearly the better cook."

"That's not fair!"

"Sucks," you say with a shrug of your shoulders as you place the burn ointment back where you had found it.

Yoongi rolls his eyes with a playful scowl and moves to sit on the counter as you work on finishing the rest of the fruits.

Soon enough, the two plates are filled with fruits on skewers with a glassy finish to them. You watch a video to make sure you clean the pot of melted sugar properly and Yoongi offers to clean the rest of the kitchen up as you do so.

You reluctantly agree after seeing that his burn was starting to look less angry. After cleaning the pot and leaving it in the sink with a few other dishes from earlier in the day, you prop yourself onto the counter.

Yoongi finds himself standing between your legs not even a minute later, and you watch eagerly as you give him the first taste test.

His eyebrows scrunch together as he evaluates the taste, clearly taking his job very seriously.

"So?"

"Damn. That's really good. Have a bite."

You smile widely, proud of your work. He points the rest of the skewer at you, but you bring your lips to his and use your tongue to swipe the sugar from his lips. 

"You're right, it is good!"

You smile at the blush that creeps across his pale skin as he takes another bite, failing to hide his timid smile.

You both manage to eat around four skewers worth of fruit, sharing each one between you. Yoongi sneaks kisses against your cheeks and jaw after every few bites, enjoying how he left you a little flustered after each one.

"You're gonna get my face sticky with the sugar," you complain, though you both know you don't want him to stop.

"I'll just lick the stickiness off," he says with a shrug.

"Ew, you're disgusting."

He laughs at the whine in your voice, placing another kiss on the corner of your lips.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, moving his mouth down onto your neck.

You tilt your neck to give him better access, stealing another skewer as you do so.

"Don't leave any marks, I have school tomorrow."

"The kids won't even know what they are," he mumbles, moving his tongue to gently graze your skin.

"Yeah they will! Kids are very modern nowadays, and there's only so many times I can say I burned myself with my curling iron."

Yoongi smiles against your neck and you leave the skewer in your hand to be forgotten on the counter. Your hands find their way into his grown-out locks, and you gently tug at the roots.

You bring his head back to meet your lips again, and the taste of melted sugar on his tongue drives you insane. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in even closer.

You find yourself smiling against him as his hands move up to cup your cheeks.

Yoongi doesn’t mind being called a bad cook as much if this is how every cooking session was going to end with you.

[bigskyandthecoldgun]

based on this

steve's pov | dragon's pov

Steve had found Dragon hiding in a bush when she’d been a teeny, tiny kitten with mangy black fur and green eyes that took up basically her whole face.

She’d been so sickly, in fact, that the vet had warned Steve she might not make it. Steve had refused to give up on the kitten, though, nursing her back to health as best as he possibly could. Now, she’s an enormous, regal-looking cat that has a meow closer to a roar, a purr that makes her sound like a motorcycle engine, and breath so terrible it should be legally qualified as a hazardous gas. That is, admittedly, where Dragon had gotten her name. Steve had found her just after the events of ’84, and when Dustin came over to bug him for a ride to the arcade, he’d been all but obsessed with the poor cat.

“D’you have a name for her yet?” Dustin had asked, eyes wide with wonder as the kitten had scrambled up Steve’s pant leg and climbed up to perch on his shoulder, shaking and terrified at the stranger in their home.

“Nah. Figured I’d just call her, like, Midnight or something,” Steve had said with a shrug, to which Dustin had taken great offense.

Upon smelling the stench that had come from the kitten’s hiss, Dustin had declared her a fearsome creature with a breath weapon, whatever that means—a Dragon. So Steve’s got a cat that is incredibly clingy and a little stinky, but only when she opens her mouth.

And his cat is ruining his dating life.

The thing about Dragon is that she doesn’t like most people. She tolerates Robin, even when she’s sitting next to Steve, but other than that, she hates it when people get close to Steve. Dragon’s the most territorial cat Steve has ever met, and Steve can hardly go anywhere in the house without Dragon at his feet or on his shoulders. And balancing a cat as large as Dragon on his shoulders is not an easy feat. Dragon screams if Steve closes her out of a room he’s in and sleeps directly atop Steve’s chest. That cat is the clingiest creature on the planet, and Steve would die for her.

But Dragon despises people. She hisses at the girls Steve brings home, yowls when the door to Steve’s bedroom is closed, and swats at anyone that tries to so much as touch him when he’s on the couch. It’s absolutely destroying Steve’s chances at bringing girls home, and while most of his dates are content to bring him back to theirs, Steve’s getting a little tired of being kicked out of bed. At least when he’s at home, he can mope right away when girls turn down his offer of staying the night and leave early, rather than moping in his car.

And it’s not like he’s getting a ton of action lately, anyway. Now that the whole Vecna debacle is over, with Eddie and Max out of the hospital, the Party spends most of its nights together, so Steve hasn’t been going on too many dates anymore. Instead, he spends his time either on someone else’s couch or his own, and if it’s the latter, he can count on Dragon sitting squarely on his lap and everyone but Robin sitting a few feet away for safety purposes.

It’s a late afternoon in November, when he’s hanging out alone with Eddie at his house for the first time, when Dragon does something truly surprising.

She lets Eddie pet her.

They’re hanging out in the kitchen, Steve almost done with his cup of coffee and Eddie nursing a cup of his own mixed with an absurd amount of hot chocolate powder. The coffee in late afternoon is a peculiar habit of Eddie’s; he says it’s because it’s when his uncle usually wakes up, and they have coffee together, so Steve thinks it’s kind of sweet. It’s a really nice afternoon, chilly but not too cold, only slightly overcast so that it’s not too sunny but not too cloudy, either. The cool light makes Eddie’s hair look shiny, and the gleam bounces off his skin like a halo might.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you how cool your cat is,” Eddie says, nodding towards the Dragon in question. Dragon hops up on the counter, then hops up on Steve’s shoulders, purring as she nudges the side of her face against Steve’s cheek. Eddie grins. “Dragon. A fitting name for a majestic beast.”

“I don’t know why she’s so unfriendly,” Steve sighs, reaching up to scratch behind Dragon’s fluffy ears. Dragon purrs even harder. Eddie snorts and reaches up to join Steve in scritching behind Dragon’s ears, but Steve takes a step back. “Woah, careful, man, don’t want you to get clawed.”

Eddie’s grin turns into a small, fond smile. “Cats don’t really like me, anyway, I don’t mind a little scratch or two,” he says, stepping closer to offer his hand up for Dragon to sniff.

Instead of the hiss Steve’s predicting, Dragon pushes her face against Eddie’s knuckles and continues to purr. “Holy shit,” Steve breathes, eyes wide, “she doesn’t do that with anybody.”

“She probably does that with you,” Eddie points out, and Steve gives him a flat look. The answering shit-eating grin he gets is unfairly endearing. “Nah, I get what you mean. But seriously? There must be someone else she likes. One of the kids? Some girl you brought home that happened to have cat treats in her purse or some shit?”

Steve groans and shifts Dragon into his arms, feigning annoyance when Dragon nuzzles against his jaw. It’s actually pretty cute. “No, this little asshole is ruining my chances of getting laid,” he says. “She hates everybody I bring home. She doesn’t even like the kids! The most socializing she’s ever done with another person before this is her letting Robin be next to me. Dragon tolerating a relationship? No way.”

Dragon lets out a loud meow and licks Steve’s cheek. “Well, maybe you just have to find somebody she likes,” Eddie says, scratching under Dragon’s chin. Dragon meows again and squints, chin tilting up to give Eddie more room to scratch. Eddie clicks his tongue. “Aw, see? She’s a sweet girl. I’m sure she’ll have a soft spot for someone other than yourself soon enough.”

Steve decides to play along. “Draggy,” Steve coos, “will you please let Daddy get laid? Be all sweet and good instead of biting people’s ankles?”

“I’m sorry, did you just call yourself Daddy?” Eddie sputters, looking mortified.

Frowning, Steve shifts Dragon so that he’s holding her like one might hold an infant. “Yeah, I’m Dragon’s dad, and she’s my little baby,” he explains. “Duh.”

“No, okay, wh—nevermind,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “My point is, even if Dragon hates the ladies, I’m sure there’s one lady out there for you she won’t hate.”

As Eddie pets Dragon’s tummy—her tummy!—Steve realizes that, yeah, there is one person out there that Dragon doesn’t hate.

Steve resolves that, if Dragon really doesn’t mind Eddie’s company, he should have Eddie around more often. The way Steve sees it, if Dragon gets used to Eddie being in the house and being close to Steve, she might open up to other people who are around a lot, like the Party, and then she could even learn to tolerate girls coming over. As much as Steve hates to admit it, Eddie Munson might just be the reason his dating life gets revived.

At the next movie night, the movie night that Eddie finally shows up for, when Dragon hops into Steve’s lap and everyone scoots at least ten feet away, Steve pats the seat next to him. “Hey, Eddie, c’mere,” he says, and Dustin openly gawks when Eddie’s able to sit right next to Steve with no roaring protests from Dragon.

“What the hell?! I’ve been in your house so many times and I’ve never been able to sit near you when Dragon’s around!” Dustin huffs, scowling at the fluffy bastard. “And I’m the one who named her! I’m practically her godfather!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Henderson,” Eddie says, a slow grin spreading across his face, which can’t be good. “If Steve’s pu—”

“Nope,” Steve cuts in, slapping a hand over Eddie’s mouth, cheeks burning, “not gonna let you finish that.”

Eddie nods. “Very wise,” he says, muffled. “It was gonna be incredibly inappropriate.”

Satisfied with having stopped that, Steve moves his hand away, and Eddie knocks their shoulders together. To Steve’s shock, Dragon doesn’t hiss or swat, just snuggles further into Steve’s lap and purrs harder than she’s ever purred before. The movie starts up, and Steve watches Eddie reach over in the dark, usually a bad move when it comes to Dragon. But Dragon just lets Eddie run a hand over the top of her head, and Steve leans into his side, the two of them sharing a small smile.

After the movie, when most everyone else has gone home, Eddie’s still around, scratching behind Dragon’s ears. “You know, you should hang out here more often,” Steve tells him, and Eddie raises a brow at him. Steve tilts his head. “I mean, Dragon doesn’t get a lot of socializing in, so…it’d probably be good for her.”

Clearly holding back a grin, Eddie nods. “Sure. I’d love to come around more so Dragon gets some socializing in,” he teases, and Steve rolls his eyes, holding back a smile of his own. Eddie leans closer, smoothing his thumb over Dragon’s fuzzy little cheek. “She’s really cute. Has good taste in who she lets pet her.”

Eddie casts his gaze down at Dragon. His lashes are long and dark. He has really nice hands, too, and it’s easy to notice them as they run over Dragon’s pitch-black fur. “Yeah,” Steve says quietly, giving Dragon a pat by her leg, “she does.”

Eddie comes over way more often from then on, and Dragon gets somewhat clingy to him, which is kind of unbelievable, because Dragon’s never rubbed up on anyone’s ankles but Steve’s, but it’s a marked improvement. The only downside is that Dragon still hasn’t improved with anyone else, but Steve figures that’ll change sooner or later.

For now, he’s content to hang out with Eddie in his room, laying on the bed with Dragon sitting on his chest and Eddie laying beside him. “Little lady,” Eddie coos, almost nose-to-nose with Dragon, who purrs. “Sweet baby girl.”

“She’s a smelly girl,” Steve tuts, scratching between Dragon’s ears. He looks at Eddie. “I still can’t believe you’re the only one out of everybody we know that she likes.”

Eddie looks up at him, big brown eyes shining with mirth. “I dunno, I think it’s pretty believable. I happen to be very likable,” he says. And, to Eddie’s credit, Steve’s found that he kind of is. “And besides, cats have good judgements of character. I’ve been chosen.”

Steve raises a brow. “I thought you said cats didn’t like you.”

Face scrunched up, Eddie tilts his head. “Yeah…I lied. Didn’t want to make you feel bad if I did get scratched,” he explains.

That’s fair, actually.

Dragon meows, raspy and roaring as always, and she smacks her paw out at Eddie’s arm, using her—trimmed, because Steve takes very good care of her—claws to drag him closer. “She wants you closer? That’s crazy,” Steve comments as Eddie scoots into his space, their sides pressed together. “She must really like you.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but he does smile, soft and private, and Steve thinks it’s nice. It’s a smile he hasn’t seen before.

It’s pretty.

Even with Eddie and Dragon getting buddy-buddy, it still doesn’t seem to be helping Steve’s case with bringing anyone home. Hell, Dragon still isn’t even close to being civil with most of the Party, barring Robin, who actually got in a single chin scratch the other day. But Eddie and Dragon are getting along swimmingly, to the point where Eddie can actually pick Dragon up! Granted, it’s not for very long, because Dragon starts screaming about ten seconds in until Steve takes her from Eddie, but still. It’s insane.

“You are killing me, you little menace,” Steve tells Dragon one night while Eddie’s using the bathroom. “Why do you like Eddie so much, huh? I mean, sure, he’s funny and he’s nice, but it’s not like you can understand what he says, you don’t speak English.”

Dragon meows indignantly at him from her place on Steve’s lap, slow-blinking at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I see your point. Eddie is pretty great,” Steve mutters.

Dragon yawns and starts making biscuits on his thighs, then purrs.

“Okay, so he’s handsome, too, but I don’t see how that’s appealing for you, you’re a cat,” Steve huffs. He blinks, face flushing. “Well, that’s—it doesn’t appeal to me, either, I guess.”

Dragon gives him an inquisitive little mrrowp? in response.

Steve blows out a long breath. “Look, Draggy, you gotta find someone else you like. Eddie can’t be the only other person you can tolerate, it’s just not realistic,” Steve tells her.

Dragon roars.

Shushing her, Steve pets her to sweeten the deal of shutting up. “Yeah, I know, and I like having him around, too—”

“Talking to your cat about me, Stevie?” Eddie asks, bouncing into the room and sitting down beside him with a flouncy sort of flip of his hair. “Well, Madam Dragon, I do hope he hasn’t been slandering my good name.”

He’s using that silly cat-voice he does when he’s talking to Dragon, and it’s almost as endearing as the way Dragon rolls over to let Eddie rub her tummy. “I would do no such thing,” Steve says, feigning offense, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Miss Dragon, don’t listen to a word he says,” Eddie tells the cat. He glances over at the clock and frowns. “Ah, shit, it’s getting late.”

“You could stay here, if you want,” Steve offers. “Maybe Dragon’ll suffocate someone else in their sleep for a change.”

Eddie laughs, but he takes Steve up on the offer, heading into the guest bedroom in a change of clothes that definitely doesn’t make Steve feel a certain type of way about seeing Eddie in his one of his old swim team shirts. Though, the night is not peaceful, because a certain giant, annoying cat refuses to stop screeching at the top of her lungs. Eddie comes stumbling back into Steve’s bedroom, Dragon held in his outstretched arms, Eddie’s hands tucked under the cat’s armpits.

There’s a grumpy, slightly disgruntled look on Eddie’s face. “Please tell your daughter to stop screaming at me,” he says, placing Dragon on the bed, and Steve reaches for her to drag her into his lap. Eddie nods and turns to leave, only for Dragon to scream again, and he whirls right back around. “Oh my God, what?!”

Dragon gives a little chirp and trots to the edge of the bed, nosing at Eddie’s hand. “Draggy, let Eddie go to bed,” Steve says, his voice rough with what little sleep he’d managed to get between Dragon’s long and loud meows.

“Yes, Dragon, I need my beauty sleep,” Eddie says. When he turns to leave again, Dragon yowls and bites down—seemingly gently—on his hand, carefully stepping backwards towards Steve while she does so. Eddie looks just as bewildered as Steve feels. “Does she want me to stay here?”

“I have no idea. I’ve literally never seen her do this before,” Steve tells him. “But, like, you can, as long as it’ll stop her from screeching.”

Eddie blows out a long breath. “Honestly, I don’t even care at this point, I just want to sleep,” he groans, clambering under the covers until they’re laying face-to-face beside each other. Eddie smiles at him, then winces and scoots closer. “Sorry, ah—she’s pushing my back.”

Dragon gives a little mrrp of confirmation.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her, I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, and Eddie just half-shrugs, eyes darting everywhere but Steve’s face. He looks uneasy. “Hey, man, if you’re uncomfortable staying here, you can sleep on the pullout in the den and I’ll just lock her in here, she’s got a litterbox and water in my bathroom, she’ll be fine. And you won’t hear anything down there, so…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. Wouldn’t wanna put you through that torture.”

He gets slightly closer, and Steve’s face goes a little hot at the proximity. Their noses are almost touching. “She’s being a little douchebag,” Steve murmurs. “Ignore her.”

“She keeps pushing at my back,” Eddie tells him, sounding a little panicked. “Why is your cat so strong, dude?”

“I can take her out of the—”

Dragon lets out a meow so loud that it rings out for a few seconds after she’s done.

Eddie is clearly fighting a laugh. “Okay, so keeping her out of the room isn’t an option,” he says, and Steve chuckles. Eddie gives him a curious sort of look. “Hey…about earlier. What were you telling Dragon about me?”

Oh, just that you’re funny and sweet and, apparently, I think you’re really handsome, is what Steve probably shouldn’t say.

“Oh, just that you’re funny and sweet and, apparently, I think you’re really handsome,” is what Steve says, because he’s an idiot.

Eddie’s brows shoot up, behind his bangs. “I’m sorry, you think what?”

“That you’re really handsome,” Steve says, because, again, he’s an idiot.

Blinking, Eddie starts to frown. “Are you messing with me right now? Because if you are, that is not cool, Harrington—”

“I’m not,” Steve says. “I’m—I didn’t—I mean, Dragon really likes you, and cats are…a good judge of character, and you’re, uh—you’re pretty.”

The frown turns into a poorly-hidden smile. “I’m pretty?” Eddie echoes, lashes batting, and Steve can’t tell whether or not that’s intentional.

“You are,” he says softly. “You also make me laugh, and you get along really well with my cat, which—and I don’t know if you know this—is very hard to do.”

Eddie laughs, almost bashful. “I did say there’d be somebody Dragon had a soft spot for other than you, didn’t I?”

“The little menace is a matchmaker,” Steve mutters, and Eddie leans forward just slightly until their noses are touching. Steve reaches up to cup Eddie’s face. “Can I kiss you?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie says breathlessly.

Steve presses their lips together gently, moving slowly, and Eddie hums into the kiss, one hand on Steve’s waist and the other sliding up to his chest. It’s soft and it’s good, and Steve leans into it a little more, his fingers tangling in Eddie’s curls as he deepens the kiss. Unfortunately, Steve has to pull back for air, but Eddie’s smiling when he does. Dragon meows, much further away than Steve had thought she’d been, and the sound of her collar jingling grows quieter and quieter.

“Well,” Steve says, “I definitely found somebody she likes.”

“Safe to say, she won’t prevent you from getting laid anymore,” Eddie murmurs, his low voice sending a shiver down Steve’s spine. He gets this hesitant sort of look on his face, like he isn’t sure if he’s overstepped. “I mean, only if you want to—”

Steve interrupts him with a chaste kiss. “Oh, I want to,” he whispers.

The next morning, when they wake up tangled in each other’s arms, clothes littering the floor, Dragon is sitting on the edge of the bed with Eddie’s discarded shirt in her mouth, tail flicking back and forth, looking smug as ever.

[divine-misfortune]

Phantom accidentally getting his knot stuck in a fleshlight and he just has to kinda sit there humiliated till it goes down but Dew finds him sitting there leaking cum all over his lap and just has to absolutely take the toy in his hands and make sure Phantom milked every last drop from himself.

Tugging at his knot, grinding the toy down against his hips. Dew pushes his thighs apart in order to lap up whatevers managed to drip out of the toy before he pays special attention to his sack - mumbles something about them still feeling so full, tells Phantom he didn't do a good enough job. Poor Phantom has his face buried in his hands, tears pricking in his eyes as he complains that its too much, that it hurts, but Dew flashes him such a sickly sweet smile and promises to help him really empty his balls because he can't have his little bug pent up.

After all, Phantom wouldn't be trying to rut up into it if he didn't want it, would he?

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

I'm ill again because I have the immune system of a sickly victorian child. Therefore I must project onto the harry potter next gen kids

What i think (some) of the next gen kids are like when they're sick:

Scorpius: I've already done a whole post on this but I have no idea how to link posts despite being on this site for years. the short version is, he was a sick child and constantly in and out of hospital so now he cannot gauge when he's actually really sick and needs to just rest, so albus has to forcibly keep him in the dorm or hospital wing otherwise he will still try and go to class even if actively dying

Albus: he's lowkey so dramatic. if he has a small cold you WILL be hearing about it, BUT he's super subtle. he will casually tie it into conversation to make you feel sorry for him and just keep bringing it up until youre like aw no, im so sorry man. he doesnt try with rose anymore, because she will just mock him, she knows what hes doing. he's most obvious about it to Scorpius, he'll start pouting and be like I feel sick 🥺🥺 and Scorpius is immediately like oh poor baby 🥺🥺/gen and does in fact baby him until he feels better

Rose: does not get sick and its infuriating. when there's some kind of bug going around the school, you can guarantee this girl will not get it. she thinks everyone is just being dramatic and trying to get out of class. don't come to her for sympathy unless you actually look like you're on deaths door. the most sympathy surprisingly goes to Scorpius because she has seen this idiot try to attend class whilst not being able to function properly and be escorted out

Hugo: he doesnt get sick often, like a slightly below average getting sick, but my version of hugo is so unbothered by everything, he would end up in hospital or whatever but wont tell anyone, not on purpose, he just never goes out of his way to mention anything until it specifically comes up in conversation. Hes the random kid that pops up, says he has a relevant anecdote, tells you the wildest story youve ever heard so casually, youre left like???? what the fuck?? and how has that never come up before????, then he just dissapears again

James: gets so mopey, he gets so restless and hates having to sit and wait to get better. he'll enjoy not having to go to class for like one day but when you tell him he can't go anywhere or play quidditch or anything he's immediately over it like, 😟😟 wdym??? wdym I have to just lie here until I'm better??? lemme out!!!! LEMME OUT!!!!

Lily: lowkey whiny. she's not usually super whiny but she acts like a little kid when she's sick and will constantly frown and pout and cross her arms and kick her legs. collateral of being the youngest sibling lmao. she wants people to do everything for her and will shout for people to come get the TV remote or something that's only like 2 feet away from her and just shake her arm at it until you pass it. Ginny and Harry do it for her, her brothers do not lmao

Victorie: doesn't usually get sick-sick often, but I headcanon her as being a general athlete, she likes to do triathlons in her spare time, and if she gets injured she literally has to not be able to walk before she stops. she will just keep going. have you seen female footballers? the way they will be wacked in the head and start bleeding everywhere but then be like meh I can keep going. so her.

Louis: cannot stand the wanting to throw up kind of sick. he can deal with anything else, he has a pretty good immune system, he can pretty much carry on with normal stuff, and you won't even realise he's sick, but the second he feels stomach sickness, he is pale as a ghost and out for business. lowkey has emetaphobia, he will just sit so still until he doesn't feel like that anymore trying to make it go away by just 🧍🏻‍♂️if I don't move it won't know I'm here, yk lmao. hates throwing up so fucking bad

Roxanne: takes the sickness as some kind of personal test. is dramatic in the sense that she will go full warrior mode and be like 😈 i will survive 😈 I will not be beaten by these pitiful germs 😈 and will absolutely just rock her way through it, she talks like she's on some kind of quest, and that this is some kind of evaluation of her perseverance

Fred: just lies there. will not move until he's better. doesn't get really dramatic or complain but god forbid you try and make him do something, he'll start going off about how normalised it is for people to push themselves when sick because society wants people to work themselves to death, and doesn't actually care about anyone's health, and everyone just gets so sick of hearing him, they leave him alone

Karl Jenkins: will purposefully cough on people to get them sick too "as a joke"

[zeezelweazel]

overprotective lottie hcs?

Lottie Matthews| Overprotective Headcanons|

____________________________________________________

Thank you so much for the request!

I didn't know if you wanted pre crash lottie or not but I can definitely write some overprotective headcanons set in the wilderness timeline

______________________________________

Lottie cares for you deeply but doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, or like you belong to her.

Regardless of her intentions Lottie overthinks every time after she's been overprotective of you because she knows how it can appear.

Honestly you find her protective nature very sweet. It's nice to have someone care so much for you.

And boy does Lottie care.

Sometimes her overprotectiveness comes out in unserious ways.

Like when you go out and it's hot she'll constantly remind you to wear sunscreen, drink water and stand in the shade to cool off. Or when you're walking down the stairs together she'll make sure to put you on the wide side. If you're afraid of bugs or dogs etc, she'll make sure to avoid them when she can and if that's not possible she'll get in front of you to make you feel safer.

Most often though, Lottie gets overprotective when things get serious.

If you have an allergy she'll act like your mom every time you go out to eat, asking the poor waiter to tell her every ingredient of every dish so you don't have an allergic reaction. If there's a fight going on between the Yellowjackets she'll make sure to take the focus away from you, especially if you don't like yelling or confrontations. Now if people start getting physical with you Lottie won't have it. They have approximately 10 seconds to leave before their lives get ruined. Now Lottie isn't the one to fist fight people but she is sickly rich and money can do worse things than a black eye.

I think that Lottie being very protective is her showing how much she loves you but you only need to say a word and she'll try her hardest not to be so protective over you.

____________________________________________________

[dynoguard]

"And we're back." Linda DuPree smiled into the camera, doing her best to appear natural. "With LaBrea... Uh... Is that your first or last name?"

The camera panned over to Linda's "guest." At first glance she appeared human, though the illusion broke down quickly. The size was the immediate tip-off: nine feet tall, with chalk-white skin and half-feline features.

From her short muzzle a pair of dagger like fangs dipped to just under her jaw. She "wore" an evening gown and opera gloves made of viscous liquid tar, the same material that formed an impossible mane upon her head.

The liquid moved and shifted with a life of its own, and a tendril of her floor-length "tresses" was presently dancing behind Linda like an agitated cobra, dripping rivulets of shimmering black oil that flowed along the ground back into her dress.

"Just LaBrea." Her voice carried an odd mix of valley girl inflection and a Hollywood Count Dracula accent, somehow unimpeded by her tusk-like fangs. "Thank you for asking. And Linda, can I just say that I am so thankful that you had little old me on your show, to get to know all the good people at home?"

"Thank, yes, I would like to-" Linda paused, and gathered herself. "I'd like to thank you, very much, LaBrea, for allowing the paramedics to give Sarah and Pauline transfusions."

"They were deliciously boring, dahling." She smiled. "Not like you. So. What do you want to ask me?"

"Well, what are you?" Linda winced. "Was that rude? I-"

"No, Dahling, you're just timid, frightened, like a little mouse. I like you." LaBrea tapped her chin, the slick mass of tar on her head shifted into a raised secretarial bun, a pair of glasses frames forming on her face, evoking a 'thoughtful' look by way of a fashion photo shoot.

"I'm a sabertooth tigress by death, a vampire professionally, an actress by calling and a Fossil Ghoul in general."

"Lets talk about that last one."

"Oh, acting! I don't have representation yet, but you have seen me on the news! And now here! On the hostage episode of The Squadt with Linda, Sarah, Pauline, and the husk formerly known as Darla!" She made an old fashioned 'call me' gesture into the camera with her tar-dripping claws.

"She'll be fine. I mean... not psychologically, but in a few categories I'm sure."

"I meant lets talk about the Fossil Ghouls. What does that mean?"

"Okay, so, like, I'm sure you've heard all kinds of things from the DynoGuard and their little juicebox pals, no offense."

"None taken."

"Wasn't a request. Like I was saying. You've heard that we're some kind of alien species that feeds on fear that's come here to bring an age of suffering and ultimately extinction upon you all. And I just want to let everyone know that couldn't be further from the truth."

"I, for one am glad to hear tha-"

"Yeah, species implies we reproduce and create life like mortals, which is downright offensive. Also, we feed on all forms of evil that you both commit and suffer, not just fear."

"So what are you then?"

"I'm the bones of a sabertooth cat, a whole lot of tar, a mass of your species superstitions, fears, and desires brought to life with a dark heart."

"A Dark Heart... is that metaphorical-?"

LaBrea plunged a hand into the tar at her hip, digging around in it as it were a pocket, before withdrawing a pulsing crystal the size of a cantaloupe. It was shaped like a human heart, carved crudely out of a sickly amber-yellow crystal. Inside, Linda could see a shadow moving around like a bug in a jar.

"This is a dark heart. Made form the ichor of Apothis herself, and holding a poor little soul that was too wicked to get fully digested after the master's last stop." LaBrea turned to the heart and its tiny shadow. "Who wasn't digested? You weren't, you weren't digested were you? You little atrocity you!"

Linda flinched as the shadow slammed itself against the wall of the heart nearest to her. She couldn't remember what it looked like, only that it had many teeth and claws it ought not to have, and was scrabbling furiously at the crystal in a futile attempt at escape. The camera did not pick up the finer details.

"You need a lot of evil, a lot of entroplasm, to make a little monster like this big and strong enough to be a real Fossil Ghoul." LaBrea said. "So you see, by letting us run roughshod over your world, you're actually helping us thrive. Isn't that fun?"

"You mentioned Apothis... That's the meteor that killed the dinosaurs?"

"Oh sweet little mouse! Apothis comes for everyone eventually. As a civilization gets big, and gets smart, its capacity to both inflict and experience evil swells. And when you're ripe, the monster meteor herself comes to feast, leaving a mass extinction in her wake. Before moving to the next star to do it, and the next, coming back around when your world has a new set of annoying talking matter that knows how to scream and mean it."

LaBrea shook herself from her ravings and regained her perky, if uncanny, posture. "Annoying talking matter and you, Linda. We're besties. Obviously!"

"How, how many times has Apothis done this?"

"To Earth? More than a couple by a few, dahling." LaBrea. "The lizards were the only ones to do something about it, and we'll have them dealt with soon."

"Why are you telling us this?" Linda asked.

"Because, dahling, it won't help. Not knowing, not begging, not even worshiping me." She tilted her head and smiled. Both the tilt and smile went farther than they ought. "Not that you shouldn't do all three anyway. They're fun!"

Linda blinked, unsure of how to respond.

"I mean fun for me." LaBrea grinned into the camera, then took a long, low inhale through her nose. As she did, Linda saw tendrils of smoke roiling from the cameras, the audience, and even herself, rushing into the creature's oddly petite nostrils. The smoke was an impossibly dark and deep purple and it smelled of burning decay.

She could taste the wisps flowing out of her mouth. They tasted like her divorce, her broken leg, her father's funeral-

"Don't turn that dial." LaBrea said in a mocking parody of Darla's voice. "Some of us will be right back after a message from these sponsors."

[cryptid-ghoulette]

Vessel of possibilities (part one)

Phantom is still new and learning about his element. He gets more than he bargained for while sick.

WC 1k

Includes - phantom has a cold, mention of dew burning a building down, but it’s all so fluffy.

No one's exactly sure why, but there's something about a ghoul getting sick, even something as minor as a common cold, that just makes their element go haywire, causing their powers to short-circuit and become volatile and hard to control. It's something of a rite of passage that each ghoul eventually goes through, and each one ends up with a story to tell.

It had been several months since Phantom was summoned, and he was settling in well topside. He was slowly learning all the things he needed to know and bonding with his new pack, who had quickly accepted him as their own. He just slotted in like a missing puzzle piece, a natural, effortless fit.

But now he was in his bed, dramatically telling anyone who came to check on him that he was most definitely dying, and they should all be saying their goodbyes (he could rival Dew and his drama queen levels). Aether had been at his bedside the whole time, assuring the sickly quint that it was just a cold, and it would pass in a few days; he just needed to rest up and drink plenty of water. Luckily, Mount was right there with all the soothing drinks and warm soups a ghoul could possibly need, and Lus had lent him her softest blanket, so at least he could die in comfort.

"Are you sure I'm not dying? Because I'm pretty sure this is how dying feels," Phantom whined quietly in a raspy voice. "I'm sure, Bug, it's just a cold. We all get them," Aether said reassuringly. "I know they’re not fun, and I'm sure you feel rotten, but it will just be a few days."

Phantom let out a small grunt; he wasn't convinced by Aether's words. He did feel rotten—his throat was itchy, his nose kept running, and the sneezing was beginning to feel like a cruel joke, each one making his whole body tense up and ache.

On the second day, during which Aether assured him it was 'the worst of it', he sat up to drink one of the many drinks that Mount had left on his bedside, hoping to ease the tickle building in the back of his throat. Unfortunately for him, the warm steam that wafted up from the cup only made the tickle worse, spreading from throat to nose, and he let out a sudden and violent sneeze.

Now the sneeze itself was bad enough; it was one of those particularly nasty ones that feels like you’re going to break a rib and your bladder might betray you, but poor Phantom's bad luck was about to get even worse.

At some point mid-sneeze, his quintessence had spiked, flaring up in a way out of his control, and a peculiar sensation washed over him. Before Aether could even react, he looked up to see Phantom, blinking in bewilderment, now sporting a pair of delicate bat wings, softly fluttering in the dimly lit room.

Aether let out a shocked gasp, barely believing his eyes, while at the same time Phantom's brain caught up to what just happened, and he let out a high-pitched scream. Aether dashed across the room, but in the split second it took for him to cross the room, the bat wings had receded, leaving a very confused Phantom muttering away to himself on his bed, his throat raw from the unexpected outcry. He stared at Aether with wide, pleading eyes, hoping he had an explanation for the utter weirdness that had just occurred.

Lucky for Phantom, Aether did have an explanation. He sat down on the bed next to the shaking and dumbfounded younger quint, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, trying to find the words to begin explaining what just happened.

"So, Bug, when ghouls get sick, it can sometimes mess with our element; we don’t really know why, but we’ve all experienced it. Dew burned his room down the first bad cold he got after the element change,"

Phantom's expression softened, and he let out a small laugh as Aether continued.

"I should have explained this to you earlier, Bug, but I guess now is as good a time as any. Quintessence is a strange element; it’s most commonly used to heal others, like Omega and I do in the infirmary, but basically, you can control most forms of organic matter, including your own."

Phantom tilted his head gently to the side, letting out a small sound of confusion. "My own? You mean like my body?"

"That's right, to put it simply, you have the ability to shapeshift. I suspect that's what happened when you sneezed, causing you to turn into a bat for a brief second. Does that make sense, Bug? I know it's a lot to take in."

The smaller ghoul nodded, thinking for a moment before his eyes suddenly lit up and he excitedly whispered, "Does that mean if I learn to control it, I… I could turn into a bat whenever I want?"

Aether let out a somewhat relieved chuckle, “Yeah, I guess so. It's not easy; shapeshifting takes a long time to master and is both physically and mentally exhausting, but yeah, you could, with a lot of practice, turn into a bat whenever you wanted, Bug."

For a brief instant, you wouldn't even guess that Phantom was still under the weather. His grin was broad, lighting up his face, his pupils dilated with excitement as he jittered slightly on the edge of the bed. Overcome with eager anticipation, he managed to stammer out just four words:

"Could you teach me?"

“of course bug. i’d love to. but first you have to get better. Now try and get some rest”

Phantom agreed, his excitement was starting to wear off, and he settled deeper into his blankets and pillows, his eyelids fluttering, growing heavier with fatigue. Aether adjusted the top blanket, tucking it gently under his chin before leaning down to give the almost asleep little ghoul a kiss on his still very warm, forehead.

[gallavichpreg]

🟠 O4: Can’t Keep Anything Down All Day

   Ian stood nervously outside the bathroom door, listening to Mickey's sickly coughs and groans from within. "Happening again?" He sighed, completely exasperated as he watched his husband struggle on the toilet, for what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon. "This is ridiculous, babe. I'm telling you... something's wrong. Really wrong..."

For seven days straight, Mickey had been sick — constantly running to the porcelain bowl to hawk up his guts, and defecating nothing but liquid waste. It felt as though it'd been ages since his stomach last settled... since he'd been able to eat something without spewing acid, bile, and crap from both ends of his digestive tract shortly thereafter. He just couldn't keep anything down. Ian was already worried about him, when the severity of his illness became apparent... but, after so many days without any improvement, he was starting to get scared.

   The pale look of his skin, red circles and bags underneath his eyes, sweat-slicked hair that clung to his forehead, and the stench of his excrement heavy in the air... the scene was so ghastly. Had he not been sitting upright, and making noise, Mickey would've been no different from a corpse.

"Agh, fuck!" He groaned, choking the final chunks of his half-digested dinner up from his throat and into a plastic bag. "I'm so tired of this shit, Ian! I swear!" His abdominal muscles finally beginning to relax, and his legs completely asleep, he continued to sit there, trapped inside of his own skin. "This stomach bug is killing me."

The poor guy hadn't been so sick in years; he hardly ever got sick. Being a Milkovich, Mickey spent his entire life just toughing it out whenever he wasn't feeling his best. There were no doctors, or medicine, or any kisses from Mom and Dad to make it better. He relied on nothing but sheer willpower to get him through — "the way that people used to do things, before they started trusting the government, and got weak" — believing that his suffering would make him stronger in the end. His immune system had already been put through the ringer... so, a long-staying stomach bug was nothing to him. Even still, Ian couldn't help but to fear for the worst.

"...Which is why we need to go to the clinic, babe." Ian asserted, trying once again to convince him to seek help. "Get you something to make you feel better, and get rid of this thing. Those doctors can help you, Mick." A grave look in his eyes, he leaned against the doorframe, like some kind of bathroom guardian, desperate for Mickey to give in and comply with his wishes. There were so many ways that Ian could influence him... so many things that he could get Mickey to do... but he could never convince him to seek out any medical advice. Mickey and doctors were like oil and water... they just didn't mix.

"I don't want to go to the fuckin' clinic, Ian." He answered, his voice shrinking, in spite of his adamant refusal. "I'll be fine with some rest. I'll go to sleep, wake up tomorrow, and be fine. Shit like this don't last too long. Trust me, I know."

A brief moment of silence fell between them... Mickey's mind racing with memories from his childhood.

   That time that he caught the flu from one of the girls in his middle school class, and couldn't get out of bed for a week. He begged and begged his parents for help... to drag him down to the local doctor... but they refused, grumbling about the cost of a consultation. His body was in so much pain, he could hardly move... so he didn't eat for days, and couldn't get up to use the restroom. He lost so much weight that, by the time he finally got over the virus, he looked like a living skeleton... nothing but flesh and bone. His bedsheets were so filthy that they clung to his butt and thighs like used tissue, crusted over, and stunk as bad as an un-flushed public toilet.

   It was a nightmare to go through something like that at such a young age... but, despite the horrible trauma, he never caught the flu again.

"By Sunday, I'll be back to normal. Watch."

"Mickey, please. You've been feeling terrible for days now. The doctors at the clinic can help you get better." Ian sighed, worry bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. Feeling like a broken record, playing back the same verse again and again, he rested his forehead against the wooden doorframe, trying to think of a way to persuade his husband into getting the help that he needed. It didn't take long for an idea to strike him. "Okay, how about this?" He began, his tone softening. "If you go to the clinic with me, and let them check you out... we can stop by that little ice cream shop on the way back home, and get a few scoops of that one flavor you've been talking my head off about... the one with the chocolate chunks and caramel. How's that sound? We got a deal?"

"Deal," Mickey muttered, promptly giving in, and accepting his defeat. "But only because I'be been craving it so bad. Asshole. As soon as I get off this toilet, we're leaving. I'm getting my ice cream."

Nude Version

[impishtubist]

Sirius and Remus go spend the weekend in a beautiful treehouse, except Remus’s various ailments and frailties cause problems. what are they and what romantic ways (to Sirius) do they solve them?

I FORGOT ABOUT THIS ASK I'M SO SORRY

Ahhh, a romantic treehouse getaway! Instagram keeps recommending these to me. I had no idea such fancy treehouses existed in the world??? Anyway, yes, Sirius rents one of these treehouses for an anniversary getaway. Unfortunately, it's an actual treehouse, so first they need to climb to get up to it. This is the first problem! Remus falls off the first rung of the ladder and breaks both his wrists. Sirius uses magic to heal them, then slings Remus over his super-muscly shoulder and carries him up to the treehouse.

It's a gorgeous night. Unfortunately, they're in the middle of a forest in summer, so there are bugs. Remus has an allergic reaction to his mosquito bites. Sirius again heals them with magic and then casts a bug-repelling charm.

And then it rains! Oh no! Poor sickly Remus catches the flu. Sirius could heal him immediately with magic, but Remus having the constitution of a sickly Victorian is kind of a turn-on for him, so he spends a day nursing Remus back to health before healing him magically.

They do eventually get around to sex, once Remus is feeling better. Sirius is so turned on. He loves his sickly husband with his allergies and brittle bones! Just thinking about Remus's bony ankles gets him hard! They have very enthusiastic sex all over the treehouse - after casting lots of cushioning charms for Remus, of course. All in all, it's not a bad vacation at all. They'll do it again someday.

[wutwutno1]

J nomming a tiny Doll who accidentally shrunk herself during the skirmish between her, J, and Tessa. OMG what if Tessa fed Doll to J??

J doesn't really like Doll.

When J first met Doll with Tessa, J knew there was something off about the little red-eyed drone with purple hair.

Doll came off as aggressive and overconfident. J heard about how Doll methodically killed people for what J believed to be an inefficient and wasteful plan to kill her friend, V. However, as much as J didn't like her, Tessa loved Doll, viewing her as if she was one of her own drones like J, V, and N.

So right now, J was waiting for Doll to come back. It was extra cold this night and it showed on Tessa, who was shivering even through her specialized space suit.

"Bloody hell. It's cold out here, J. We probably should've waited in the ship." Tessa spoke through gritted teeth. J looked over at her while sitting on a post. "Well Doll said she would be back tonight with the key, and to meet her right here. So, I don't see any other option." Tessa sighed and began to pace, trying to keep up her blood flow. "I know that. How are you not freezing J? I thought drones could feel and react to temperature like humans." J smiled as she responded with, "We do, I also just so happen to be constantly overheating, so it kinda cancels out."

A few feet away from the pair came a ball of red lightning, signifying Doll's return. Tessa and J watched on as the lightning dissipated and revealed Doll. However, she was only about the size of J's hand. Doll stood there shocked while Tessa and J watched on agape.

"Что за—?" ("What the—?") Doll began when she was immediately cut off by Tessa, "Oh my god! Doll, you're so cute!"

Tessa reached down and picked up the mini Doll, who squirmed in her hand. "эй! Отпусти меня! Отпусти меня!" ("Hey! Let me go! Let me go!") J looks over Tessa's shoulder at Doll.

"How did this happen?" J questions. "Незначительный просчет." ("Minor miscalculation.") Tessa opens her palm flat, allowing Doll to sit down and breathe more comfortably. Tessa asks, "Doll, did ya get the key?"

"Да, да. У меня дурацкая проблема с ключом." ("Yes yes. I got the stupid key bug thing.") Doll then reaches into her dress and pulls out the keybug, the only problem is that it's much too small.

"Huh. Must've gotten shrunk when she did, ey J?" J nods and looks back at Doll. "Can you unshrink, or something? That bug needs to be normal."

"Думаю, да. Мне просто нужно больше масла для телепортации. А пока я—" ("I think so. I just need more oil to teleport with. Until then I—") Doll then breaks out into a shiver, the abnormaly cold air mixed with her extra small size finally catching up with her. "Боже, как холодно." ("Jeeze, it's cold.") "Oh dear, you poor thing. We'll get you warmed up, right J?" Tessa turned to J, who looked slightly disappointed at the events unfolding. "Of course, boss." Tessa looked down at the borrower-sized drone in her hand and placed a hand on her chin. "Of course, we need to figure out a way how. What to do..."

J began thinking. She didn't like Doll, but Tessa did. So she couldn't do anything to hurt Doll, but this could be her only chance to get revenge on behalf of V. Honestly, she could forgive all of that if Doll didn't do the one thing the workaholic bootlicker J considered unforgivable; messing up her job.

J began to grin, figuring out the perfect punishment while still looking like she was helping. Something that even Tessa could get behind.

"Hey Tessa, I have an idea." J spoke in a sickly sweet voice, however Tessa didn't seem to notice. "Yes, J? What is it?" J sat down on her post, grinning ear to ear. "I'm constantly overheating, right? So I was thinking we could put her inside of me somehow, like..." J paused for a second before snapping her fingers. She placed one hand over her abdomen and pointed at it with the other, "my stomach!" "Подожди, что?" ("Wait, what?")

Tessa barely gave it two thoughts before nodding her head. "Good idea J! Let's do it!" Tessa picked up Doll by the back of her shirt and began to carry her over to J. Doll began to squirm and panic.

"Подожди! Подожди! Не скармливай меня ей! Я не еда! Я не конфета!" ("Wait! Wait! Don't feed me to her! I'm not food! I'm not candy!") "J, can you translate? I don't understand Russian. She seems to be freaking out." J's grin grew wider as she now had full control over the situation.

"Oh, she's just begging for warmth. She only looks scared 'cause she's cold!" Tessa stands about a foot away from J, looking down at her. "Well okay! Open up!" J did as she was told, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out, giving Tessa and Doll a clear view of the back of her mouth and the top of her throat. "нет! Нет! Остановись!» Остановись!" ("No! No! Stop! Stop!")

Tessa slowly slid the squirming worker drone into J's mouth, the latter closing her mouth behind Doll softly onto Tessa's fingers. Tessa let go of Doll, who began to struggle harder inside J's mouth. Doll's voice muffled to the point of being unintelligible as Tessa slid her fingers out of J's mouth.

"Ew, J!" Tessa squealed playfully, whipping what little saliva got on her glove off.

Inside J's mouth, Doll was freaking out. She squirmed and struggled. Doll clutched onto J's tongue in the hope that it would prevent her from being swallowed. Doll felt her legs get pulled inside J's powerful throat, the tugging slowly pealing Doll off J's tongue.

" Подожди! Остановись!» Выплюнь меня!" ("Wait! Stop! Spit me out!") Doll cried out as her arms let go of J's tongue. She grasped desperately, but with one last gulp, J swallowed Doll whole squirming and fighting all the way down into her stomach.

"Gulp!" Tessa traced Doll's descent down J's throat with her finger until she reached J's chest. "Did you just say gulp, J?" Tessa giggled as J smiled, "Hey, you were the one who deleted gulp.mp3."

Tessa began to laugh audibly when she stood up. "Fair. I wonder how Doll's doing in there." J patted her stomach and grinned, "Oh, she's having the time of her life."

Inside of J, Doll was not having the time of her life. She lay in the soft plush of J's gut, getting churned and pushed with her arms crossed and a pout on her face. Doll couldn't do anything at the moment but take it. She didn't have the oil level to use her Absolute Solver, her squirms and fighting only got absorbed by the thick plush that surrounded J's stomach, and her yelling probably couldn't be heard by Tessa, and even if it could, Tessa still couldn't understand Doll.

Doll was had, and she knew it. Her only choice now was to wait for J to let her out. She knew J wouldn't digest her. She had the key and was the only one who could unshrink it. However, another thought came into her mind. She realized that J's stomach was actually kind of nice. The warmth was perfect, especially after what she had just experienced outside. The churning and the soft contractions of the belly walls worked to massage the stress in her over-tensed joints.

Doll didn't have anything to worry about in J's belly. For the first time in what felt like forever, Doll relaxed.

"Righy-O, J. Let's get back to the ship and warm up. We can get Doll the oil she needs in a bit." Tessa stood up and stretched. She patted her sheath and holster, making sure her weapons were secured, and turned around, only to come face-to-face with an emo worker drone with N and V behind her, all standing in a fight pose.

"Huh—?"

**********************************************

Sorry if my translation is off. I don't speak, nor understand Russian, but I wanted to try to write it in. Any help in fixing translation errors will be much appreciated.

[slimeranch7]

Would you mind a Countess Chelsea request?! I don’t see a lot of any PTN fics so I’m kinda desperate :~: the sky is ur limit with this one if you do do it!

Fun fact: the name of this draft is called "Chelsea req attempt 6"

ao3 link

Content warnings: graphic descriptions of violence and murder

-----

The gentle beat of a heart that isn't yours pounds in your ears like a heavy, persistent drum.

Lub dub… Lub… Dub…

It doesn't feel real. The guttural imagery forever burned through your rose tinted glasses, impossible to scrub the scar off your mind. You could never forget the way poor Sitri writhed until bright red blood stopped spurting from the gaping hole of her chest. She goes limp without a sound.

Your throat was raw from screaming and begging. Eyes burning, yet still endlessly welling with tears. Your grip on the hem of father's coat loosened, leaving behind deep, ugly wrinkles in its wake.  

Father was never this cruel. Father was strict, yes. He demanded only the best from his only daughter, he expected polish and grace. He worked Chelsea to the bone, but provided more than enough for her and Sitri to live comfortably as your family's lapidarist. 

Father was stern and rough, but he never… He would never…

Sinew and blood drips from his hand. Your own pulse drowns all else out of reality, and leaves the world to spin on an uneven axis. A heap of pink before the dark shadow of your father, separated by a deepening pool of sickly red. 

You trip over your own two feet to get to Chelsea, landing painfully on your knees, but the imminent bruising was the least of your concerns. Your father, terrible, cruel father, calls your name, but it echoes like a distant howl lost in a vast garden of fury. 

Arms wrapped delicately around her head, pressing her flush against your chest to let her know you're here through the frenzied rhythm of your heart. Delicate, manicured fingers gently cards through long locks of pink. You're here. You're still here even if Sitri isn't. 

A shadow casts over your trembling figures, accompanied by the familiar clicks of expensive heels. 

"Stay the fuck away from my daughter…!" A monster rages behind you. 

Even as he pulls you by the collar, you persist and instinctively drag yourself against his force, fear and defiance taking the helm of your body and mind. Bloody, warm knuckles brush against your neck and sullying your clothes. It sends sickening shivers down your spine.

But he doesn't get far. 

Chelsea lurches forward, reaching behind you and grabbing your father by the wrist. In an instant, he violently recoils, a blood curdling cry cut short by a string of the most vulgar curses you've ever heard him utter. 

Glass shatters behind you, pelting against marble tiles. Your father's anguished howls don't stop even as the chamber empties of all other sounds. 

His entire forearm is taken off- torn sleeve soaked darkly with his own blood, and you could almost see the disturbing white of his bone underneath fibrous, gory flesh. Blood spurts from broken vessels in increments, pooling over Sitri's corpse and soaking her already dirtied fur. 

Pieces of ruby-colored gems caked his gaping wound. 

You dared to sneak a peak at Chelsea, whose eyes were wide as yours. 

Protectively, she pushes you behind her, and lunges towards your father, now more monster than man. 

His nose, brows and mouth contorts into a wicked, vile snarl, high on adrenaline, and mindless enough to attempt another clumsy swipe at the younger girl.

She dodges with ease, letting him stumble from his own momentum, before twisting his other free wrist, and oh, you could see it- the way his skin breaks, splits, red, translucent stones slipping from between tight strings of muscle, breaking off bit by bit and scattering like bugs before your feet and rolling to a stop.

He pitifully collapses, face wet with tears and drool and snot. There's a sheen layer of sweat caking his head and neck, from exertion and agony, now that both his arms were turned into pellets of gemstones scattered across the chamber. 

You couldn't quite make out his expression, though you're positive it would have looked nothing like the impassive, self-assured father you once had. Chelsea's figure hovers over you, intentionally blocking him from your view. 

You can do nothing but stare up, frightful and wavering, eyes drifting over to her fingers. 

Chelsea cups your face with her bloody sleeve, frown still apparent, but her eyes hold no ill intent. Rather, it's sad, wet with tears. Having seen too much. Lost too much. Sitri is- was family to her. 

Shaky hands grips her lapel as she leans down to you on one knee. You tremble, shaken, mind still lagging minutes behind trying to process your trauma, but your gut doesn't scream danger. It never did in the presence of your Chelsea, after all.

She slowly lifts a finger to trace your hair, experimentally. It doesn't crystalize, or split, or shatter like your father's arms did, so she moves down to your cheeks, tracing a stray tear. You can feel the way it shrivels into itself, hardening and growing heavy, before it falls by itself beneath your collar, sitting heavy and uncomfortable under your shirt, but still warm. 

"You misunderstand," She suddenly says, glassy eyes still trained on yours, but she isn't addressing you. "I was only asking for your blessing, not your permission."

Her thumb hovers over your eyes, urging you to close them. Hot lips pressed against yours. Her hair tickles your jaw as she hovers above you, tilting your face to meet hers. You feel her hands groping your thighs softly. The kiss lasts for eternity, drawing your breath, like a feverish, lascivious show intended for the wrong audience…

And suddenly she withdraws as fast as she closes in, air turning frigid without her overwhelming presence. You resist the urge to peak. 

There were no final words, no parting jabs. Just a strangled gasp that puts a stop to the incessant, pained wheezing. Then it rained stones. Priceless, valuable gemstones, clacking obnoxiously and echoing across the chamber. 

When she prompted you gently, you opened your eyes in search of your lover, you were instead met with a beast, dark and muted pink. Subdued and indistinct. A shadow cast over her face, hiding the dangerous mania residing behind her gaze. 

Smiling, she leans down, content, pressing herself against your chest, lulled by the gentle rhythm of your heartbeat. Warmth shares itself between your bodies. Those useless gemstones could never compare. You're still here. You're still here, even if no one else is. 

[cowplant-snacks]

BOLD THE FACTS: Skylar Hammond

The Rules are simple! Tag people and name a character you want to know more about! If you want to let the person you tagged decide who to showcase, then don’t name a character and they can pick somebody. Easy! The person who is tagged will then bold the remarks below which apply to their character &, if they want to, include a picture with their reply!

Thanks @kimorasimz, @paperdolls-and-pixels, and @thebramblewood for tagging me. I choose to do Skylar.

[ PERSONAL ]

$ Financial: wealthy (his father is a United Simnation Ambassador that's why they moved to Sulani) / moderate / poor / in poverty

✚ Medical: fit (but with a bit of Dad bod)/ moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable

✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other

✔ Education: qualified (Biology degree) / unqualified / studying / other

✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes/ no/ has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children: had a child or children (twins that his cousin carried for him and his partner) / has no children / wants children

◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent / not applicable

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between

♦ disorganized /organized / in between

♦ close minded / open-minded / in between

♦ calm / anxious / in between

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

♦ cautious (has to be he's so clumsy!) /reckless / in between

♦ patient / impatient / in between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in between

♦ leader / follower / in between

♦ empathetic / vicious bastard /in between

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

♦ traditional /modern / in between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in between

♦ cultured /uncultured / in between /unknown

♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown

♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

[ BELIEFS ]

★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic

☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

❃ Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between /not religious

❀ Philosophical: yes / no

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual

❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless

♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious

❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: men / women / other / none /all

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: men / women / other / none / all

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good /moderate / poor / none

≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate /poor / none

✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate /poor / none

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently/ Alcoholic

☁ Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / Chain-smoker

✿ Recreational Drugs: tried it / never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict

✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess

☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater

$ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic

♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler

Feel free to ignore! I tag @gothoffspring, @m0ckest, @superflare @bug-farm for any sim you choose <3

[fayoftheforest]

rating CATG based on how sickly I think they’d be <3

(part two to this post about the main five :)

Craig: 8/10. We’ve all heard this motherfucker speak. This guy’s sinuses are Fucked Up! He has a recurring case of the sniffles and he is not happy about it >:( He rarely gets seriously ill, but even a minor cold is enough to have him moping about with a cartoon rain cloud over his head. He is simply So Over being sick, and can you blame him? His sinus troubles often lead to headaches, or worse, earaches, which sucks major ass. No matter how much of a dickhead he may be, his pitiful appearance when ill is enough to melt even the coldest of hearts.

Clyde: 6/10. Oh my god, is this guy gross when he’s sick :/ You know those little kids who cough as loudly as possible with their eyes bugging out of their head, right into your fucking face? Clyde was that kid, and he never grew out of it. He is just simply so overwhelmed by how shitty he feels, that he feels the need to constantly remind everyone else of it too! Pity is his lifeblood. If he’s lucky, he’ll get a couple tuts and a “Poor thing,” and if he’s even luckier and has a Special Someone then perhaps they’ll agree to stroke his hair whilst he lies, snivelling, with his head in their lap.

Jimmy: 4/10. In contrast to Clyde, the absolute last thing he’s after is pity when he’s ill. He’s out here making crack-ups between coughs and grinning like this whole sickly business is some sort of private joke. People ask him how he’s feeling, and he’s like, never better lol! And they’re like, um?? Lol?? If things get bad, he will quietly ask a close friend or Special Someone for assistance, and whether they might be able to take care of him for a few days. He might secretly feel a little anxious about being a burden on his caretaker(s), but they reassure him that’s never the case, and he’s able to rest easy with them by his side until he recovers—goofing around all the while, of course.

Tolkien: 2/10. Being vitamin C’s number one biggest fan, Tolkien’s immune system is thriving. He rarely gets sick, which of course pisses off those in his life who do, because it’s Just Not Fair! Just because he gets a full nights sleep, eats plenty of fruit and veg, and regularly exercises doesn’t mean he should be able to float through life this easily! How dare he >:( On the occasion that he does fall ill, he will do the sensible thing and rest up until he’s feeling better. In doing so, he will be careful to isolate himself so that he doesn’t spread it around. Sure, he might get a little lonely, but he doesn’t mind too much, and reassures himself it’s the best thing to do right now. However, this gets his friends very worried because Tolkien is sick?? Sick all alone?? By himself?? With no one to help/make things worse?? Oh, that simply will not do! Cue the rest of the gang showing up unannounced at his door, interrupting his tranquillity to “take care of him”. He’s all, ‘Guys, you really shouldn’t be here, I’m contagious,’ but do those fuckers listen to him? Hell no! Which of course leads to the rest of the gang catching his cold, leaving him to deal with the fallout, exasperated. (But perhaps that’s for another post >:)

Tweek: 7/10. This guy never sleeps and lives on a diet of coffee beans which may or may not be laced with meth. You think he has what it takes to fight off a cold? Please. His immune system is in shambles. But because Tweek is already pale, with chapped lips and dark rings under his eyes, it’s hard to tell when he’s come down with something. The true tip off to his poor health is his drowsiness. His typical skittish, light-sleeper status is no more. You could crash symbols next to his ears and he’d just huff and roll over. No longer a nocturnal menace to society, Tweek is out cold by 7pm every night, and does not rouse until 11am the next morning, peppering the rest of the day with naps. During the fleeting moments when he’s awake, he is mumbling about headaches and a dry mouth, and how everything is terrible and life is just a never-ending cycle of suffering and anguish, or something. On the plus side, he will carelessly fall asleep cuddled up to whoever is sitting next to him on the couch, which is pretty cute.

Thanks for reading! I’d love to see your own headcanons & ratings too :)

[drpeppertummy]

Idea! have Val get sick with some sort of hell bug and try to hide his upset tummy so not to ruin their plans

this took way too long for what it is but What Ever its out of my hair

[feverish illness & bloaty tummyache]

Val knew he shouldn't have gone out.

He knew it from the moment he woke up. He hadn't been feeling quite himself that morning. He'd woken up with a headache, and his stomach didn't feel quite right. It hadn't been awful, though, and he and Connie had plans to go out, so, against his instincts, he'd opted to take some ibuprofen and hope for the best.

The best was not what was in store.

It was noon now, and while the ibuprofen had helped the headache a little, everything else was only getting worse. He felt foggy and feverish and sore, and he felt cold even in the warm summer air. His eyelids were heavy and he felt utterly exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and go to sleep, although he would've been perfectly content to pass out right there on the floor. Worst of all was his stomach. It felt crampy and achy and terribly bloated, and it had only been growing worse as the day went on.

He and Connie were at the aquarium today, a good hour from the comfort of home. They'd been looking forward to the outing for weeks, and Val had been in perfect health right up until that morning. Now, he was finding it difficult to enjoy the experience. He placed a hand against his tummy when Connie wasn't looking. It was taut and swollen, and he felt an uncomfortable groan buzz through it. He rubbed it cautiously, trying to be subtle and hoping Connie would be too focused on the fish to notice his discomfort. As badly as he wanted to go home, the last thing he wanted to do was spoil the trip for her.

Connie turned back to say something to Val, but was surprised to see him looking absolutely miserable. He quickly put on a smile for her, but it was no use; there was no hiding the discomfort on his pallid face, nor the woozy sway in his posture.

"Jeez, Val, are you alright? You look awful," she said, her brow furrowed with concern. He nodded, and she put her hands on her hips. He sighed.

"I think I'm coming down with something," he admitted sheepishly.

"I'll say. Come on, let's go home. You need to be in bed."

Val tried to argue, a fight which he weakly put up as Connie all but carried him back to the car, but she wouldn't have any of it. He spent the long ride home looking miserable and holding his aching belly.

"I'm sorry," he said glumly.

"Huh? For what?"

"For ruining the trip. I should've just said something so we didn't have to come all the way out here for nothing. We could've gone another day."

"Aw, Val, you didn't ruin anything," said Connie, extending one hand to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "So you got sick, so what? That's not your fault. We can still go back some other time."

"Yeah, I guess so," he sighed. As bad as he felt, he'd have been lying if he said he wasn't relieved to be going home. He'd been on the verge of collapsing by the time Connie noticed how off he was, and his stomach felt like it was about to burst. He suspected the culprit was a virus that was common in Hell but fortunately not contagious to humans which caused, among other feverish symptoms, a painful buildup of steam in the stomach. He supposed he must've picked it up when he was visiting his family over the weekend; just his luck.

Val's belly gurgled uncomfortably, and he weakly unbuttoned his pants to give it some space. It stuck out taut and round over the seatbelt. Feeling sorry for her poor sickly husband, Connie reached out and gave his belly a gentle rub, and he laid his dizzy head back against the headrest, dozing in and out of consciousness until they finally arrived back home.