#sickfic snippets

[warmblanketwhump]

a whumpee who’s getting sick and kicks things off with a miserable night of sleep.

And when I say miserable, I mean they. don’t. sleep.

maybe it’s because they’re aching and can’t get comfortable, or they’re chilled/shivering no matter how many layers they cover up with, or they have a terrible headache/nausea, but whatever it is, they toss and turn and see almost every minute tick by on the clock and it’s horrible.

just when they feel like they might finally drift off to sleep, their alarm goes off, and they try not to whimper because they’re so tired. but it’s too late to try and sleep anymore, and they’ve got to face the long day ahead of them before they can crawl under the covers again.

bonus points if they come downstairs with dark bruises under their eyes, blanket wrapped around their shoulders, and tell the others, “I didn’t sleep at all.”

[freddie-77-ao3]

In Sickness (More Than Health)

“You just sneezed, get back to bed.” 

“I didn’t sneeze, I was… making train sounds?….”

“…Train noises?” Connor says, with the tone of someone far too suspicious for a simple conversation.

“Yeah,” Malcolm says, looking very unsteady. “Train noises. You know, cho-cho?”

“Right…” Connor trails off. “Sure.”

“Oh, Connor.” Malcolm says, sounding really quite sickeningly sympathetic. “Have you never heard a train before?”

“I’ve heard trains, Malcolm. I’ve also heard bullshit, and I can tell you which one you sound like right now, and it isn’t a train.”

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whumpril Day 19: I Need You

CW: poison whump, sickness, fever whump

Your body is wracked with poison. You lie in a darkened room, delirious and sick, unable to lie still as the effects of whumper’s spell take hold and jerk you between shallow nightmares and fevered wakefulness. You can’t sense much beyond the dim light, terrible pain, and caretaker’s presence.

Caretaker bends over you and drapes a cool cloth over your forehead. For a moment, the cool sinks into your skin, and you feel a degree of relief. But whumper’s poison spell is too powerful and the relief is swallowed instantly. A whimper escapes you.

If only it would stop. If only the poison would stop.

And then, caretaker seems to disappear. Weakly, you manage to raise a desperate, shaking hand.

“Please...don’t leave me…I need you.” The words come out raspy. They don’t sound like your voice at all.

Caretaker appears again, smiling despite their furrowed concern. “I won’t leave you. Don’t worry. I’ll be right here as long as you need me.”

You slip back into a dream with caretaker’s reassurance echoing in your mind, and this time, the dream isn’t quite so bad.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Burning Up

TW: Delirium, fever (symptoms described), mentioned pills (medicine, I swear)

What is this? It's the fluff snippet I promised my lovely nemesis @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 , and I really hope you enjoy this < 3 < 3

"Are you alright?"

The words seemed to snap the heroine abruptly out the void of her own muddled up thoughts, feeling as though her head were stuffed with cotton, everything an incoherent blur.

"Yes," she still answered back anyway, a trained response, one that stopped people from prying any further, from looking disappointed. It was the answer they really wanted to hear, even if it really disproved the question's validity.

Except the villain didn't smile, and he didn't leave the way he was supposed to. His brows were furrowed, and his arms were folded across his chest, and even though the hero didn't say anything, she just knew she didn't enjoy the sight.

She'd always hated it when he frowned, when he wasn't smiling, or wasn't even wearing the cocky smirk he always brought to their fights. She couldn’t tell what exactly in her response had warranted such a reaction from the criminal, but the guilt twisting knots at the pit of her stomach was very palpable.

As she stepped closer to him, pulling her rigid, aching muscles into a fighting stance; anything to distract him, the attempt hindered by her sluggish movements, all she'd managed to do was stumble towards him, losing her balance humiliatingly fast. It was only her luck that the villain's reflexes were still as razor-sharp as always, rapidly pulling her into his arms and steadying her with his weight.

And he was warm, and blissfully so, his grip firm but never unkind. As fervently as the crime-fighter wanted to lie down, the villain's embrace was comfortable, comfortable to the point that her train of thoughts, broken and destined to crash seemed to steady a bit, the world losing its edge of murkiness for just a moment.

Carefully, the villain pulled away and pressed his hand to her forehead, immediately retracting it away as if he'd been burnt. The guilt resurfaced again, an old, unwelcome demon resurrected, even more so as his frown deepened.

He let out a soft curse. "What were you thinking? Trying to fight when you're like this? You're burning up!" he interjected, his eyes wide, and a note of concern in his voice mixed in with the annoyance.

Except all her mind chose to focus on was the villain's choice of words to describe her state. 'Burning up', as he'd called it, didn't seem too far-fetched from the fire in her head, practically sizzling across her flushed skin, bile rising at the back of her irritated throat, her sore muscles burning with the pain, every movement agonising. Even if she couldn't see that she was burning, literally burning, it felt exactly as though she was.

"You're coming home with me, right now. Whatever ludicrous reason you might have for pulling this bloody stunt, I don't want to hear it," he stated, blunt as always, lifting the hero into a bridal carry almost as though it was second nature to him.

And in the midst of her delirious state, the hero hadn't memorised the route he'd taken home in his car, or how he'd accessed his lair, probably not being able to tell it was a lair as he carried her up into his actual residence. In a different state, the heroine's uncanny attention to detail would have engraved it all into her memory. She only registered the arms that were around her, and the pain that racked her body; her mind becoming too primitive to notice much beyond what she could physically feel.

Soon enough, she found herself being laid down on silk sheets. a thick blanket being drawn over her, and he took her temperature and he swore again, letting out a tired sigh. And just when the villain was about to leave the room. . ."D-don't g. . .go," she slurred, her fingers gripping onto his sleeve as firmly as she could manage.

"I'll just get a couple things for your fever. Won't take me long, I promise." Something in the villain's demeanour shifted, his gaze softening for a mere moment, except he doubted the heroine would take note of it.

There was no doubt about the fact that she would realise she wasn't holding onto his sleeve anymore as he left.

He came back with a cold compress, a glass of water and a bottle of pills, sitting himself at the edge of the bed. Carefully, with a gentleness she'd never known the villain to be capable of, he placed the compress on her forehead, the coolness heavenly against her burning, sweat-slick skin. "Okay, I just need you to sit up and swallow these," he said, and he knew full-well that if she was in a better state she wouldn't have taken the medication so willingly, ergo, she wouldn't have trusted him so willingly. He couldn't help it as a pang of guilt seemed to crawl across his skin, but he shook it off anyway, focusing his attention on steadying the heroine's shaking hands and making sure she swallowed those pills.

He realised he hated seeing the hero, his supposed nemesis, struggling to lift her head up and put it back down, every movement clearly agony for her. He'd imagined he'd revel in her weakness, but right now, nothing of the sort had happened.

The villain had found a washcloth in one of the drawers, using some of the remaining water in the glass to wet it and wipe the sweat off her face and neck, his fingers carding through her hair absently as he pushed himself inwards onto the bed, letting Hero huddle into his form for warmth.

"Y-you're. . .gorgeous," she rasped out, staring into the villain's eyes, taking in the features of his face, his figure, all of him, even in this clouded state.

"What?" he blurted out, completely taken aback, but still continuing to stroke through the heroine's hair.

"Haven't you seen yourself?" she questioned incredulously, as though it was the most obvious thing in existence.

The villain smirked in response, "Well, I guess I'm not narcissistic enough for your point to stick."

"Villain I. . .I'm in love with you," the hero admitted, and he'd never heard her voice so laden with conviction before, not when she'd promised to defeat him, and not any other time ever, her eyes locking with his own, her gaze unrelenting.

Sure, it still irked the villain that when the heroine had confessed her love to him, she'd been delirious, and that her strong emotion could possibly be a result of the aforementioned delirium, but that didn't mean these words held no weight or that the way the hero had regarded him - was still regarding him, had no effect on him.

So for once in his life, the villain sucked in a sharp breath and decided to risk it. "I'm in love with you too," he stage-whispered, carefully shifting the hero so that she was lying down on his lap and kissing her forehead gently.

Some locks are easy to pick, others not so much. That does not mean opening them is impossible, just that it may take a little longer to find the key. Most people aren't aware of what they are capable of feeling, of doing when their heart starts to beat for someone else. But they can never find out unless they have the courage to face the daunting possibility of taking the chance offered to them because love doesn't knock on the door; it walks in announced, and you get to choose what to do about it.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi@those-damn-snippets @whatiswhumpblog

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[writing-whump]

Hospital wait

"Shouldn't we call them?" Matthew asked into the silence. They stood in the hallway of the intensive care unit for the past hour, waiting to be let in.

Seline stood frozen solid with her arms crossed and expression unreadable. It was scary how much like Isaiah she could get sometimes. He couldn't pick up anything, like the door was shut on her heart.

"Call who?" Her tone carried absolute disinterest. She could barely look at him, no matter how composed she seemed.

Matthew cleared his throat, shifting weight from one foot to another. "Hector and Arnie. Shouldn't they...know? Be here?"

Seline stared through the screen that separated the waiting room from the patients like he said nothing. Did she hear him?

"...No."

"No?"

"It will be difficult enough for him when he wakes up. The doctor said we should try to keep him calm. He feels a lot of stuff with his brothers around, but calm isn't one of them."

"I don't know...I feel bad for them. They should know."

She scoffed in his direction, but it seemed even that was too little to actually give him the attention of a whole look. "Now you are feeling for somebody else?"

Matthew winced, biting into his lower lip so hard he could taste blood in his mouth.

"Look, it's the same logic. What's the best for Isaiah right now? I don't think stressing him out about whether they should or shouldn't see him is wise right now. It's for him to decide if they bring him comfort and he shouldn't be deciding anything in the near future."

Matthew didn't like that, but he also couldn't come up with any arguments. He was willing to never talk back to Seline for the rest of his life if it helped ease the guilt he felt.

The sheer disgust in her voice, when she talked to him was torture.

God, he messed up. And the worst thing was, he didn't know the right answer still.

Isaiah would know. Isaiah would figure out a way to solve this, to explain and understand everyone's feelings.

But Isaiah wasn't currently here. Or he was, but there were complications in the post operative phase or whatever that meant.

Matthew didn't understand everything the doctor said—he was experiencing rather unnerving blackouts in attention—only that it left him with a dreadful feeling between his ribs.

He wanted Seline's touch more than anything. He wanted comfort and he wanted to give it. He wanted them to be facing this together. It was difficult enough, but on their own?

It was only half a day of her being angry and he already couldn't stand it.

The whole situation was making him want to cry, throw up and scream at the same time. It was confusing enough his shadow was jittery and paralysed by undecision.

Which was great, in a way. At least it wasn't rearing up.

Matthew perked up as he heard the footsteps nearing and turned towards the door.

The doctor came in and headed directly towards them.

"There is nothing to worry about," he said at their expressions. "He is stable. But there has been significant swelling in the heart and the surrounding tissue after the operation. It's not uncommon. We are leaving his chest open for now to help ease it up, so there isn't too much pressure on his lungs."

Matthew swallowed heavily. Seline paled next to him, but managed to pose the next quesiton. "He won't wake up, will he?"

"He is heavily sedated, but his body burns through the anaesthesia quicker because of his shadow. There is a risk he might wake up sooner than we are able to close the chest. It would be for the best if you stayed near him in case that happens. Keeping him as calm as possible is very important right now."

Yeah, that sounded like a plenty gruesome thing to wake up to, especially after a freaking heart attack. Matthew felt nauseous just listening to it.

"Of course," Seline said like open chests and heart surgeries were part of her study programm. "Can we see him now?"

The doctor nodded. "We got him into a separate room. And you said you don't want his name appearing-"

"Yes. It will be safer that way," Seline agreed. Matthew had no idea when she made that deal. But it was good. They didn't need the city or the packs sniffing this out about Isaiah's condition or he would be in even more danger.

Matthew realized that secret name or not, Wolfsons giving them out or not, he was not moving from this hospital until Isaiah could stand on his own.

There was no way in hell he was letting any other wolf near the entrance.

"Thank you," Seline said, aiming for the door. She didn't stop to wait if he was coming too.

Matthew just hoped she didn't doubt he would.

[glamlet69]

The Destiel Sickfic is still in the works (I'm sorry), so here's another snippet to tide you over!

Dean nodded. “Do you plan on sticking around?” He didn’t know why he immediately regretted asking the question, but he did.

Cas looked at him again, making sudden and uncomfortable eye contact. Dean almost looked away, but he forced himself not to.

“Would you like me to?”

“Uh, I mean if you want to. I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“'Okay' you’re staying? Or 'okay' you’ll think about it?” 

“I’ll stay until you’re better. Something tells me Sam might need some help.”

Dean frowned, offended. “What's that supposed to mean?”

It was then that Cas smiled, exhaling a small chuckle.

Before anything else could be said, Sam returned, raising an eyebrow and hesitating in the hallway when he saw Cas in the doorway.

[ditzyredrobin]

JayTim Week Day 2

Dawn / Space / Star

Just a snippet of of day two. And yes, chicken and stars is superior (take that Jason).

-

“Campbell’s chicken and stars, really? If you’re going to burn the house down, at least pick the good stuff.”

Tim closes his eyes and counts to ten. A deep breath in through his nose, a deep breath out through his mouth, hoping it’ll help a little with the mounting emotions.

It doesn’t.

Trapped in a blanket, burrito-style, and reinforced by Jason’s arms, everything in him is screaming for him to flee.

Jason is pissed. Not kick his ass pissed, but it’s a close thing. It maybe even closer if he weren’t sick. Or maybe he was closer than he thought because he was sick and didn’t tell anyone. But Dick had a day job in Blüdhaven, he was an EMT, and Jason was on Official Red Hood Business™️.

Plus, he was fine. He had been watching his temperature. If it had gotten about 101.5, he would have called someone—Bruce, or Alfie, maybe Dick if he was feeling bad enough. But it all should have been fine.

He was fine.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Jason, I wasn’t going to burn the house down. It was just a minor series of unfortunate events that lead to some minor smoke.” Tim snaps back for the nth time in as many minutes. “Plus the classic is gross.”

Jason stares at him for a long moment with a pinched expression, his eye twitching. “The building had to evacuate.”

“So? That doesn’t mean I was going to burn the apartment down.”

“There are scorch marks on the stove and you destroyed one of my favorite pans. Which you owe me for, by the way. I paid good money for those.”

“Dick has done worse. At least I didn’t set off the sprinklers.”

It’s true and on more than one occasion.

He doesn’t laugh, instead it only serves to make him angrier. “This time! You didn’t set off the sprinklers this time. You’re damn lucky you didn’t get hurt. Both of you are, frankly.”

Tim rolls his eyes and wiggles in his cocoon of Jason, and comforter, and Kevlar, testing the waters and how much could he move.

He wasn’t the biggest fan of being carried around like a helpless damsel but being in Jason’s arms usually made it bearable, he smelled of cigarettes, and chewing gum, and that unique, undefinable smell that could only be described as purely Gotham. He was safe and warm, like a cup of chai in the winter, warming him from the inside out.

But his hold on him now wasn’t comfortable. It was like being caught in an iron vice, or bear trap. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, and every fiber in him screamed run. Red Hood was far too close to the surface and it frankly made Tim want to vomit. Everywhere.

If he hadn’t known any better, he would say the pit was starting to ooze up again. But Jason’s eyes were so blue it almost hurt.

[plague-of-insomnia]

WIP Wednesday: Sebardagni Post-Apocalyptic Domestic Sickfic AU

I know no one cares about this idea aside from me, but this is the first thing I’ve been able to write in months, and I really fucking need the escapism of Sebastian having two men taking care of him even when the world has fallen to pieces.

I have a few scenes for this written I may end up posting on AO3 later, but for now, enjoy this scene.

The concept for this AU is this: the world ended a few years ago, and Bard, Agni, and Sebastian have been surviving together. Sebastian is chronically ill, so he and Agni mind the homestead while Bard goes off on excursions for supplies. It’s not an easy life, but overall, they’re happy.

~#~

Sebastian balanced carefully. The forearm crutches Bard had fashioned for him fit better than anything he’d managed with since the world collapsed and meant he wouldn’t do just that onto the floor—even if his muscles were weak.

He’d finally managed a few hours’ sleep, exhaustion and one of Agni’s herbal treatments helping to ease his breathing long enough to dream.

And what a dream it was. He couldn’t wait to hurry out of the small bedroom they shared in this tiny mountain cabin and tell Agni about it. As bittersweet as it was, it had felt so wonderfully real, he could almost ignore the perpetual tightness in his chest.

“Agni! Agni!” Sebastian cautiously eased the door open.

The cabin was cozy, a main room with a fireplace, kitchen, and sitting area, a bedroom and bath, and a cellar Sebastian couldn’t access—too many stairs— where they stored food for the winter.

The fire illuminated the room as Agni worked. From the way the orange sun had colored the bedroom, Sebastian suspected it was evening, which would mean Agni would likely be busy prepping their dinner.

Things had been harder lately, since Bard had been gone for weeks now—73 days, exactly, not that Sebastian had been counting—but they made do. Agni wasn’t as skilled a huntsman as Bard, but between their garden, preserved stores, chickens and goats, they managed. Agni had to coax Sebastian more often than not to eat as it was, so he barely dented their food stocks.

“I dreamed Bard came home and he found me medicine, and—“ Sebastian’s voice cut out immediately as he realized he heard Agni speaking to someone. And then he saw him. “Bard?”

The man was perched on a stool at the kitchen island, looking ragged and thinner than Sebastian remembered, but very much not a dream or a ghost.

“You’re alive?!” Sebastian’s eyes filled and he pushed himself to move as fast as he possibly could, dropping his arms from his crutches so he could throw them around his lover. “Agni and I were worried you were never coming home.”

Bard’s strong arms supported Sebastian in their embrace so he wouldn’t lose his footing, enjoying this connection. He smelt like tobacco and sweat and days out on the road, but more than anything, like hope.

Sebastian didn’t even care if Bard hadn’t been able to find any medicine for him. He was just so relieved he began to sob as weeks of emotions he’d been damming up broke free.

“Hey, hey, you’ll make your breathing worse. I’m all right. I missed you both and thinking of getting back here to you kept me going. You know I don’t die easy.”

Sebastian’s legs ached, and Bard sensed his growing instability and helped him sit down beside him. A moment later, Agni set a steaming mug in front of him. The frothy liquid was green. Another one of his herbal concoctions?

“It’s matcha. I lucked out.” Bard scratched his cheek. “Got caught in a bad storm a couple towns over and took refuge in a partly burned-out old asian market. I moved some shelves to help create a barcade and found a whole supply of the stuff that had been overlooked by scavengers.”

“The caffeine will help your breathing,” Agni said with a warm smile. “It’s not medicine, but it was a good find.”

Sebastian tried not to frown as he took a sip. It was bitter, but Agni had added some of the honey from the bees he kept to sweeten it. He didn’t want to ruin their happy reunion by suggesting, again, that maybe it was time Agni and Bard moved on and left him behind. He was too frail to travel, and Bard was having to spend more and more time on the road, detouring farther and farther from their home base in order to find any medicine to help ease Sebastian’s symptoms.

Even before the world fell apart, Sebastian had been ill. But after, the stress and lack of medical care meant his condition had deteriorated significantly, and if they hadn’t found this cabin by chance, he knew he probably would have died years ago.

Sometimes, he wondered if that would have been better for both Agni and Bard, even if he kept his mouth shut as he listened to them talking, Bard regaling some of his adventures while Agni finished prepping their food.

They’d have rabbit stew tonight, thanks to Bard’s catch, and Sebastian cherished the warmth of the mug in his hands as he tried to enjoy the limited happiness of this domestic snapshot.

He did like it here, in their little cabin. The woods shielded them from most of the horrors of the dying human world, and the fresh, dry air eased his breathing some. He loved their little home and garden, and enjoyed helping Agni with the animals when he was well enough to venture outside. He thought, despite his illness and the reality of their new world, he might be content, if Bard didn’t constantly have to put his life at risk for Sebastian’s sake.

Sebastian shivered as one of Bard’s coarse hands played with his long hair, curling a strand around a finger.

“I missed you both so fucking much,” he said. Sebastian could see the fear in those blue eyes, that he’d probably worried he might not make it back, or that by the time he did, only Agni would be waiting for his return.

~#~

Reblogs appreciated as always!

Liked this? You can see more of my writing on AO3.

[undercover-horn-blog]

Snz Snippet #1

(I have a lot of old snz fic from my prolific uni years. Feel like people won't be interested in the full stories but feel compelled to post short, random snippets in case they hit a nerve. Might censor some character names, especially for OCs)

“Morning”, I greeted neutrally.

“Hi.”

A frankly pathetic amount of congestion in just that one syllable, and I could tell from the sheepish look on his face that he was as aware as I was.

“Bit under the weather, I’m afraid”, he added through a thick sniffle, giving me that apologetic sideways look.

“No shit.”

I do the deadpan delivery better than he does, and every once in a while, it still catches him off-guard. That morning, he was too tired to expect anything like it, and it fetched a small laugh which immediately turned into more coughing.

“Jesus fuck”, I commented dryly. “Can you try not to die on the job? Imagine the law suit.”

“Good to know where your priorities are. I’ll try to stay alive for a few hours, then die in the comfort of my own home. Off duty.”

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Sick, Fainted Hero Request- Part 3

part 2

Hero was not about to just waste the day laying in bed. There were people that needed them. So, when Villain’s footsteps had faded, they gingerly crawled out of bed and opened the door as quietly as they could. They crept through the hall, and went down a flight of stairs. Suddenly their head began to spin and they felt a weakness overtake them; Hero put a hand against the wall for support… it wasn’t enough. Hero’s knees buckled and they tumbled to the floor.

“Ow,” Hero mumbled dazedly.

Hero was distantly aware of footsteps approaching fast. They looked up with blurry vision to see Villain running toward them.

“I heard a thud, what-” Villain stopped when they saw Hero’s state, “oh, Hero, I thought I told you to stay put.”

“’M fine,” Hero slurred, trying and failing to get up, “I need to get back to work.”

“No, you don’t, you need to get back to bed.”

Villain bent down and lifted Hero up in a bridal carry. Hero squeaked in protest.

“Put me down,” Hero said, “I can walk.”

“Uh-huh, sure you can,” Villain replied, walking back to the bedroom.

Villain set Hero back down in the bed and pulled the covers up over them. They sat down on the edge of the bed.

“You know, I think I’m starting to figure out what’s gotten you so sick in the first place,” Villain said.

Hero stared blankly at Villain.

“I think you’ve overworked yourself and exacerbated whatever illness you already had, making it ten times worse,” Villain continued, “sound about right?”

“Y-you’re wrong,” Hero said, “I wasn’t overworking myself, I-”

Hero was hit with another wave of dizziness. They closed their eyes, but they still felt the room spin.

“Okay, maybe a little bit,” Hero conceded.

“Mhm,” Villain said, “glad we can agree on something. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to bring up that bowl of soup I said I would get you, and you’re not going to leave that bed. Got it?”

“Okay,” Hero said feebly.

“Good,” Villain said, standing up.

Hero heard Villain’s footsteps get fainter until they faded away completely. They felt the drag of sleep tugging at them from behind their eyes. Hero succumbed to it, not knowing that they were actually fainting in bed.

…

“Hero…Hero!”

Hero felt someone shaking them; they blinked their eyes open and saw Villain staring at them with a worried expression.

“Wha’s wrong?” Hero asked.

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Villain said, “I called your name several times, but you wouldn’t stir. I think you passed out.”

“No, I was sleeping,” Hero argued.

“If you were just sleeping, you would’ve woken right up,” Villain countered, “I’m starting to wonder if I should take you to a doctor.”

“No!” Hero said quickly, “no doctors. Just you.”

“Hero,” Villain sighed, “I’m getting worried, no one just faints twice for no reason. If you won’t go to a doctor, then you have to promise me that you’ll stay put while I figure this out.”

“Got it,” Hero said, “no leaving the bed. Fine. Just no doctors.”

“No doctors,” Villain agreed, “just me. I’ll see what I can do. Here-” Villain picked up a bowl of soup from the bedside table “-eat this, maybe you fainted because you haven’t eaten anything.”

Hero went to take the bowl of soup from Villain, but Villain held it out of their reach.

“Mm-mm,” Villain shook their head, “You just sit still and open up, let me do this for you.”

Hero pouted, they weren’t a baby, they could feed themselves for goodness’ sake! But Villain looked insistent, so Hero reluctantly opened their mouth and let Villain spoon-feed them. When the bowl was empty, Hero shuffled further under the covers and yawned.

“Try to rest, alright?” Villain said, “and ring this if you feel faint or need anything. There’s books you can read and a TV if you wanna watch something.”

Villain held up a small bell and set it on the bedside table. Hero nodded weakly and curled up on their side.

…

Villain left the room to let Hero rest. Meanwhile, they dialed Medic’s number. If Hero didn’t want to be seen by a doctor, fine, but Villain still needed a professional medical opinion. It wouldn’t hurt for them to ask Medic a few questions.

tags: @maxandel0, @rainy-knights-of-villany, @blu-hohos

[certainmaybe]

The worst patient

Assistant should be used to hospitals by now. After all, most of their job came down to managing the teams hospital appointments. Of course they had other duties as well, from taxes to taking out the trash, there were a lot of things that didn’t fall into anybodies job description and ended up on Assistants plate. Not that it was written in their job description, but since nobody actually knew what their job was Assistant didn’t protest. As long as they had nobody monitoring their work and they could write their own paychecks they were happy with what they did. And most of it was arguing with grown adults about having to take the meds and stay in bed, even if they claimed they felt better. It was annoying, but the soft, gentle sort of annoying that made you feel important.

There had only been one time so far where Assistant had hated the hospital, and that was when Leader had gotten hurt. While the others turned into whiny babies or were simply irresponsible Leader was furious. Of course they hadn’t actually been angry with Assistant. They had been angry at them self, always so careful and responsible, because they couldn’t afford to get sick. After all, the people needed them. But it had been Assistant who stood between them and the door, who called the nurses and refused to let them get away, and so it had been Assistant that Leader screamed at. Leader could barely look them in the eye now, and Assistant was still hurt from all the things Leader had said to them, but both of them had always been professional.

So to summarize, Assistant should have been used to hospitals by now. And they were, as a guest. As a patient, apparently, they were terrified.

They were still angry at themselves for letting it happen. They knew, better than anyone, not to touch things they didn’t know, not in the base, not with Scientist being the way they were. Of all the teams hospital stays at least a third was related to something dangerous being left lying around. And still Assistant had picked up the crumpled up piece of paper, intending to throw it in the trash, only to find that a strange alien infection had entered their system.

To their credit, they had been very professional about it. They had discarded the paper, assessed the damage, realized it was spreading. They had called in sick, called the hospital and even made sure the teams affairs were handled so far that they could work without Assistant for a few days. Hopefully it would only be a few days before Assistant could at least do remote work.

you still need to put down an emergency contact

“What?” To their great embarrassment, Assistant had been too scared to pay attention to the nurses explanation.

“An emergency contact? I hate to say it, but the surgery is risky. We have no idea what exactly is happening to your body and it is sadly not unlikely that you won’t wake up. I'm sure there is somebody who would want to know?”

“Leader,” Assistant said without thinking. If Assistant died, they would need to hire a replacement fast. But there should be somebody else, telling them, not the hospital. That wasn’t the kind of relationship they had. Assistant had set up an automated message, in case they didn’t make it.

Subject: Resignation

Cause: Death

“Okay, I put them down, anything else I can do for you?”

“No, no, I don’t…” Assistant searched their mind for some other name to give the nurse, but the plan in a situation like this had been to hire a nurse to take care of them during recovery. Sadly, this had been on to short notice and Assistants inquiries had not been answered so far. They were hoping that once they were ready to get released from the hospital they would find somebody.

“Okay then. The doctor will be with you shortly.”

It wasn’t shortly. It took ages. Terrible, horrible ages during which Assitant thought abut all the things that could happen. They could die, of course, but there were so many things worse than dying. They could wake up. They could wake up sick and hurt, damaged to a point of no repair, alive just enough to know they would be better of dead. They could wake up to a slow, painful recovery, the kind they knew deep down they couldn’t manage alone. They could end up sick and hurt and dying and knowing that it was all their own fault for not being strong enough. They could end up forever alone, because they wouldn’t have anything to give, and what were they but the sum of the services they could provide.

And then the doctor came and started the anesthesia. Assistant was told to count back from ten.

Ten. They didn’t want to be here.

Nine. What if this was the end?

Eight. Why hadn’t they told anybody?

Seven. Would their team even care?

Six. They had written their will, but would anybody even look for it?

Five. If they woke up again, what were they supposed to do?

Four. Assistant had always called a nurse, just to make sure everything was all right.

Three. But what if Assistant woke up to sick to call somebody?

Two. What if they woke up and nobody cared?

One. Would anybody get them something to drink?

There was an annoying beeping sound. A metallic taste in Assistants mouth. They were, in some capacity, alive. They felt nothing but exhaustion at the thought.

They should try to open their eyes. Figure out if there was enough of them self left to call for the nurse. What was the plan for recovery, if there was one. Which medications, what therapies, which additional procedures that would all come with their own recovery plans. There was no use putting it off, if Assitant ever wanted to be healthy again they couldn’t slack off now. They had no time to wallow in their misery now.

Still, just for a moment, Assistant let their eyes stay closed. They reached for the slowly fading fog, pretended just for a moment that the hard part was over. Then they started blinking into the blinding light of the hospital.

The room was familiar at least. The same to bright lamps, of white walls, horrible flower painting, uncomfortable chair. Disinfectant and stale coffee. Assistant tried to shift towards the call button and groaned in pain.

There was the distinct sound of a person falling out of a chair and scrambling to their feet.

“Assistant? They are awake! Somebody get here, they are waking up!” The voice was to sudden, to loud for Assistant to remember it. It had to be familiar, why else would they know their name.

Things were happening much too fast for Assistants still numbed mind to register. All they knew was that soon a doctor was shining a even brighter light in their face.

“I am just checking that your brain functions properly.” They explained. The words had a meaning, though Assistant had a hard time connecting it. “Okay, everything seems to be looking good so far.” Oh, yes, brain function. That was a thing Assistant wanted to keep. Especially if their body might not ever funktion the same again. They wanted to ask.

“I-” Their throat was so dry it was almost on fire.

“Here,” said the familiar voice, and a straw was pushed towards their mouth. Assistant drank. It was possibly the best water they had ever had.

“How am I?” They got out.

“Well, I won’t lie, right now you are not in good shape. But we did manage to get the infection out. Once your body has recovered from this surgery we will start the process of repairing the damage. I won’t lie, you have a lot of hard work in front of you, but from where we are now I see a full recovery as very likely.”

“Great.” Assistant felt sick.

“It’s going to be alright,” said the familiar voice. It belonged to a silhouette, hardly visible against the blinding light of the window. “All you need right now is to rest.”

“I will let you two alone now,” said the doctor. “Call if you need anything.” The words weren’t said to Assistant, but to the other person.

“Thank you, doctor,” said that familiar voice. And suddenly it wasn’t just any familiar voice.

“Leader?” Assistant managed to get out. With the doctor gone Assistant could finally focus on the person standing in front of them. On Leader, looking like they had been to hell and back.

“You couldn’t have told me before?” Leader asked hoarsely, pulling the uncomfortable chair close. 

“I had an email set up.”

“Assistant, I- I suppose it’s all I deserve.” Leader made a motion as if wiping tears away. “Is there anything I can get you? More water, another blanked, a pillow? Do you need- are you in pain? I’m sorry, I don’t really know how to do this.”

“It’s fine,” Assistant managed to get out.

“Okay. Just tell me if you need anything. Promise me, please.”

“Why are you here?” Assistant asked instead. Leader set out a sigh so full of despair that Assistants heart almost broke.

“Because the hospital called me. There was a complication during the surgery, and since you put me down as your emergency contact-” And then Leader simply started sobbing. “I’m sorry,” they managed after a moment, wiping their tears away again. “This isn’t about me. There was a complication, but they managed to fix it. But they called me, and I came.”

“You came,” Assistant echoed. 

“Of course I came, Assistant, I mean-” Leader stopped themself. “Do you want me to leave? I understand if that’s… I know we aren’t exactly on good terms. If there is somebody else you would rather have here, just say the word.”

“I don’t.”

“Is it okay if I stay, then?”

“Sure.”

Awkward silence filled the room, the same awkward silence that had filled elevators and meeting rooms.

“Can I-” Leader stopped themself. “I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but, god, please don’t ever do this to me again. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, but you have to talk to somebody. I know you like doing things on your own, but some things you just can’t do alone. And this- I think this is one of those things.”

“I know.” Assistant was getting teary eyed them self. They were exhausted and in pain and still high on medication and their stoic leader was crying in front of them, there was really nothing they could do.

“Then why didn’t you tell anybody?”

“I-” It was the drugs fault what Assistant said next. “What if you hadn’t come?”

“Of course I would have come. Though I suppose I understand why you would have doubted that. But why didn’t you call any of the others then?”

Instead of an answer, Assistant just glared at Leader.

“Okay, I see how that might not have helped the situation.”

“What happens now?”

“It’s mostly up to you, but if I was you, I would get my revenge by being the most difficult patient the world has ever seen.” It was as much a cry as a laugh, but still Assistant had missed hearing Leader laugh.

“I feel like I am off to a good start for that.” And Leader laughed, and Assistant let out a painful chuckle. “I think I will sleep now.”

“Okay. I’ll be there when you wake up.”

[the-flaming-nightmare]

Tagged by the wonderful @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad! 🧡❤

Someone commented that they would love to see an agere fic where the P4 discover Ciel regresses and look after him, so here's the start of that fic:

"Ow!" Ciel yelped, flinching back slightly when Sebastian began to dab a cotton swab against the wound on his forehead. "Be a little gentler!"

"Didn't I hear someone say he was so happy that he forgot about his pain?"

"As if that could happen!"

Sebastian emitted a quiet chuckle under his breath, but did try to go a little more gently as he cleaned his Master's wound.

"All of your strategies went according to plan. Brilliant work, young Master." Sebastian finished dabbing the wound clean, placing the forceps inside the metal pan and setting them off to the side. "Although... it seems you received rather more of a 'badge of honor' than you'd planned for."

"That blasted Greenhill..." Ciel grumbled.

"Oh, I retrieved the ball you ordered me to retrieve." Sebastian moved to grab the bandages he would need to dress Ciel's head wound.

Ciel scoffed. "I doubt Bluewer would have noticed anyhow. After all, the only difference is a slight change in weight. I do have to say, though, I don't understand why they carried on bowling in earnest when they knew it was a lost cause."

"Yes, I never understood the human aesthetic of 'losing well'."

Bandages in hand, Sebastian turned back around and began to wind them around Ciel's head.

"Well, how did your plan go?"

Sebastian went over to one of the other infirmary beds and grabbed the neatly folded charcoal coat and top hat.

"May I present, the Headmaster."

Ciel's eyes widened. "What?"

"I apologize, my Lord. I pursued him with all my might, but when I caught him, this is all there was."

Just as Ciel opened his mouth to respond, he quickly shut it when a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea crashed into him. A low, pained groan escaped him. He clamped his eyes shut and put a hand on the side of his head, slightly swaying where he sat on the bed's edge.

Tagging (if you wanna): @angelique-of-the-volturi-guard, @anewkindofme, @snowviolettwhite, @actualalligator, @cielconsumer, @nottapossum, @snarkythewoecrow and anyone else who wants to join!

[fairyniceyeah]

Hey!!

🤣

What's the funniest thing you've written?

💜

Hey there 🩷

That's actually so hard to answer because I know that what I find funny isn't necessarily funny for everybody else. But here is a snippet of the ATEEZ "Sick but not sick enough to stay home" headcanons I got as a request!

Twenty-seven. That was how many times San had sneezed during the recording of their new album so far. Still, he refused to stop. No matter his nose was constantly running. No matter he had ruined nearly every single take with a sneeze. No matter he kept sniffling. No matter there was snot everywhere.

Yeosang was not easily disgusted. But the shiny spots of gelatinous fluid all over San’s sleeves were … less than nice. Seonghwa was already slightly greenish and Yeosang assumed he was about three sneezes away from begging San on his knees to just use tissues. Which, he apparently didn’t need to do, because San wasn’t sick, according to him. Yeah, sure.

Hongjoong, too, looked worried for the cleanliness of the recording equipment but he had not yet called the recording to an end. 

Sneeze. Another sneeze. And another. All stifled in San’s hands which he secretly wiped on his pants. Seonghwa would be cleaning for the next month if that continued.

Speaking about their oldest, he seemed to have enough of the drama. He stood up, grabbed the box of tissues he had brought and shoved them at San.

“Use them”, he snarled, sounding equal parts serious and exasperated.

“But, hyung, I’m no … no …” San started but was stopped by a sneeze that seemed to have crept up on him. And sneeze he did. Straight into Seonghwa’s face. 

In any other situation they all might have laughed at the shocked look on both their faces but Seonghwa did look like he was ready to cry. Especially with a spot of snot on his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, hyung”, San whispered, sounding shocked.

Seonghwa stared straight at him, not changing his expression as he tore a tissue from the box to wipe his face. 

“God gave you a brain, use it”, the eldest said, voice dangerously low. For a moment Yeosang feared he would have a psychotic episode right then and there. And he was slightly scared for San. “And I am giving you tissues, so help me God if you don’t use them.”

Seonghwa whirled around to look at Hongjoong and EDEN who were watching the scene with mixed reactions. Hongjoong looked like he had seen a ghost. EDEN was suppressing a laugh, Yeosang was sure. “Excuse me, I need to disinfect my whole existence.”

[blackrosesandwhump]

June of Doom Day 18

“I’m fine.” | Self-defense | Allergies | Headache

CW: 2nd pov, illness, sick whumpee, pain

As the day progresses, the throbbing in your temples grows worse, and as it grows, so does the lump of dread in your stomach. You know what it means. You know that sooner or later, the pain will spread to your chest, arms, and legs. You know you need to tell the others before your body betrays the truth.

But instead, you force yourself to keep moving, all the while not saying a word.

“You don’t look so good,” someone observes. You’re not sure who; by that time, the world has turned vague and fuzzy with pain.

“I’m fine,” you mumble back. Just tell them, begs the part of your mind that can still function. Tell them the truth. Tell them, and they can help you.

You ignore the voice. This is your problem, not theirs. The mysterious illness that the dying woman pronounced over you is your business, and you don’t want to bother anyone else.

But later, much later, you lie supine in a dark room as someone sponges your aching body, and you finally realize your mistake.

[caspersickfanfics]

Sneak peak of "Too Feverish to Think" below the cut because... I've been stuck writing this fic for literal months and am a bit worried I may never finish it ^^;;

Fanart!!!

“You need to take better care of your body, Cyno. Considering the way Hermanubis fortifies your immune system, I dread to imagine how thoroughly you’ve been neglecting your needs. Modern medicine can only go so far in patching you up when you’re irresponsible–”

Tighnari cuts his sentence short. The tea is on its way to becoming fragrant and he’s gathered miscellaneous supplies, in the meanwhile - a damp washcloth, a cup of water, and some ground roots and herbs that he keeps around because they act as antipyretics - but upon taking a closer look at Cyno, his voice gets lost somewhere in his throat. The matra, who normally has stellar posture (one of the few areas of his wellbeing that Tighnari doesn’t have worry about), is sitting hunched with his head dipped forward, mumbling half-formed, apologetic words and sniffling. Cyno looks up when Tighnari touches his shoulder and his eyes are red-rimmed.

“I’m sorry,” Cyno manages, just barely, his voice quiet and cracking, which makes Tighnari feel a bit like he’s been caught in a tussle with a Rishboland tiger. And then Cyno continues - quietly, like he’s not sure he’s allowed - to ask “Are you mad at me?” 

…Well. He could’ve stabbed Tighnari through the chest and it would’ve hurt less. 

[phonydiaries]

"Blanket" for the ask game 👁️?

You'd been confined to your room most of the day, shuddering about feverishly under the covers, no amount of tossing or turning allowing you the gloomy peacefulness of sleep.

Upon hearing of your sorry condition though, of course poor P couldn't stop himself from fussing.

The puppet pulled a thick blanket tight around your shoulders, taking great care to ensure you were comfortable as could be, all things considered.