#Flu in cats symptoms

[petcatandkitten]

Cat Flu Symptoms: Treatment and Long-term Effects

Flu-like symptoms, like a runny nose and sore muscles, can also strike cats, and they require a lot of care to recover. Learn how to identify the symptoms and indications of the flu as well as how to treat it. Read More...

[daily-whistlepaw]

daily whistlepaw until si becomes PoV day 1371

still not feeling that great lmao, but at least I got my screens back and I can draw!

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

if you watch Monsters Inside Me, you get a peek into the life of how many real doctors are legitimately like this in real life. Or if you go to a doctor and happen to be fat.

"Watching my dad (a GP doctor) watch House is more entertaining than the show"

[battywitch]

Did the annoying and stressful thing that was top priority on my list for this week 👍

[feminist-space]

Cat in the Hat:

"The German Health Minister gave an important update on the Covid situation yesterday.

I’ve written up the section of his speech from the video below for easy reading.

It’s immensely refreshing to see a government minister warning of the harms of Covid in such a transparent way."

https://x.com/_catinthehat/status/1732092683508678954

Prof. Karl Lauterbach

Health Minister, Germany

4 December 2023

"This second (long Covid) round table was very interesting, lasting three and a half hours. It serves as a unique forum for dialogue among scientists, researchers and those affected by long Covid, facilitating the exchange of ideas.

There are many new findings about long Covid. Not all of them are good news. One piece of not-so-good news concerns the fact that long Covid is actually still a problem for those who are newly infected. One estimate that has been put forward is that the risk of contracting long Covid now, even after vaccination, is around 3%. Now you may say, "that's not such a big risk" , but there are tens of thousands of people who are repeatedly affected in a short period of time. And so, the long Covid problem has not yet been solved.

We have also established that there really are many subgroups of long Covid and that we do not yet have a cure. And it was clearly pointed out that we are also dealing with problems here that will challenge society as a whole, because vascular diseases often occur after long Covid. Throughout Europe, we are currently seeing an increased incidence of cardiovascular disease in the middle-age group - from 25 to 50. This is associated with the consequences of Covid infections.

We also very often find cognitive impairment in older people. And one participant pointed out that it may well be like the Spanish flu, where 20 years after the Spanish flu there was a significant increase in Parkinson's disease and probably also dementia.

This is something we must pay attention to, as the past infection afiects how the immune system in the brain functions, as well as the brain's blood vessels, potentially increasing the long-term risk of these major neurodegenerative diseases. This is why we need to conduct very intensive research. This research has played a major role.

What is the overall assessment of the situation now?

We have to be careful. Long Covid is not curable at the moment. We also know that over 40% of those who have several manifestations of long Covid, for example, five or more, still have symptoms after 2 years, so it doesn't seem to heal spontaneously. We also know that those whose symptoms are more pronounced at the beginning are less likely to heal.

So some of what we know from the demographics of long Covid has been confirmed, and we now know more precisely which mechanisms in the brain, but also in the blood vessels and the immune system, are responsible for this. Professor Scheibenbogan will explain this briefly later.

At this point, I can only say the following - this is particularly important to me:

First of all, long Covid is a disease that stays with us and that we cannot yet cure. And we are seeing an increasing number of cases as the waves of infection continue to affect us.

Secondly, Covid is not a cold - with a cold, you don't usually see any long-term effects. You don't see any changes in the blood vessels. You don't usually see an autoimmune disease developing. You also don't usually see neurological inflammation - these are all things that we see with long Covid. Therefore, one should not assume that Covid infection is just a common cold. It can affect brain tissue and the vascular system, and we still lack an effective treatment, making these studies crucial.

Significantly, we know that the risk of long Covid decreases when you're infected but have been vaccinated. That's why it's concerning that only 3 million people have been vaccinated with the new, adapted vaccine. That is a very bad result.

Please protect yourself from severe infections.

Please protect yourself from long Covid.

Currently, the danger posed by Covid is indeed being underestimated. Nothing is worse than infecting someone at Christmas who then becomes seriously ill and may not fully recover."

Alt text is included in all images of this post.

[hug-them-trees]

I am in sensory hell and like I don’t even know if the hell is real. What does this mean? My throat feels like there are tiny pieces of the chips I ate this afternoon stuck in it. I keep trying to swallow them or do something to get rid of them but they are NOT going away which means either I’m just imagining things there (likely) or this feeling is indicative of a deadly/terrible disease (unlikely but I have anxiety so we haven’t ruled that out)

[followthebluebell]

This is happening fast. Cats generally only survive 24 hours from symptom-onset.

Symptoms are hyperglycemia, stupor, limb stiffness, difficulty breathing, pupils with different widths, unresponsive pupils, seizures, and hypoalkemia.

It's unknown how many of the deaths ARE bird-flu but please be vigilant. So far it seems restricted to Poland.

Here's is another article; it was originally in Polish but google translate has provided a rough translation into English.

[kittyhazelnut]

I am LOSING my MINDDDD

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Day 314, and not a whole lot done, just finished up Incredulous, but that's okay since I'm feeling bleh anyway. Any progress is good progress when bleh :)

[takami-takami]

Like Animals.

kinktober day 4: sex pollen.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut

warnings— afab!reader. dubcon (sex pollen/heats, but both have been pining like idiots). breeding if you squint.

keigo's beloved crush sidekick gets hit with the unluckiest quirk possible. he quickly discovers his rut suppressants ain't shit.

Through all the horrors and adverse life events Keigo has endured in this line of work— brutal near-assassinations, negotiations with international crime syndicates, purchasing sugar-free canned coffee with Splenda substitute by mistake before his morning shift— he has always been able to find a silver lining in the darkest of moments. 

Which makes it infinitely more concerning that for the first time in his life, he nearly whines through his teeth the words, "why me?" 

A palm drags once down his face, thumb and index finger pulling down his darkened eye bags. His hand collects the beads of sweat and stops to rest over his mouth. 

He supposes this must be his penance for taking a risk and trusting faulty intel. 

Keigo's informant told him the villain he and his darling sidekick were meeting would have a limited-ranged fire quirk, so the diligent hero stuffed ointment and cold packs in his pockets before leaving just in case. 

If he had known the villain was a plant heteromorph and possessed a heat-inducing mist quirk instead, and that the person he was hopelessly in love with had a bit of a crush on would be caught in the direct line of fire? 

He would have brought a paper bag to hyperventilate into instead. And some prayer beads. The god to which the prayer is delivered doesn't necessarily matter, he thinks. He'd simply pick one and drop to his knees in a bid for mercy.

"I'm taking you to a medic," Keigo puts his foot down for the fourth time this evening. 

"Fuck no," you groan from the couch, shifting to squeeze your thighs together. It offers not even a modicum of relief from the incessant throb. "Do you want my cause of death to be humiliation? Is that your plan, genius? 'S bad enough as it is that you're here." 

The subtext is unspoken, but clear to him through your adorable pout: I only trust you to see me like this.

It's unlucky that the man you've had the most innapropriate-for-work crush on for the better part of two years happened to be the one beside you that day. And it's just your sorry luck, you lament, that Keigo would also be the one to catch you, to fly you home cradled in his painfully capable arms, to refuse to leave your side and insist on making his favorite chicken soup for you in a desperate flail of support. 

He'd respect your decision and leave, should you ask him to. You know that. And yet the humbling truth gnaws at your pride: doing so wouldn't do much to save your image at this point. He’s already seen you like this, you grumble. The proverbial cat has long since escaped the bag, waltzing its way over to rub its purring body against Keigo’s leg to your abject horror.

If you close your eyes, you can attempt to trick your brain into thinking this affliction is a flu of some kind. 

Yes, this is just some common cold. You're wearing nothing but your work partner's shirt (your clothes were contaminated by the quirk's dust, Keigo explained, speaking in that strict work mode voice that makes you picture your mouth stuffed and drooling somewhere beneath his desk and between his spread legs). You pull the damned fabric down over your core as you try your hardest to not writhe in fits of pleasure underneath the blankets, rubbing your thighs together for any friction against your swollen clit.

All symptoms of an affliction of the flu, of course. 

You don't need to reach down and touch to know the slick would string those thighs together, should you attempt to pull them apart. 

Keigo knows that, too. But he doesn't say anything about it. 

You would be mortified if you were aware of the truth. 

That he knows everything.

Keigo knows exactly how you ache; like you're constantly on the precipice of an orgasm, perpetually ablaze from the heavy heat scorching your body from its surface to the boiling core. 

You try to suppress your glee as he spoon feeds you the broth, reminding yourself that this is just what good friends do for each other.

Friends coo praises at each other when they swallow, friends tilt each other's chins up with one finger and mutter things like that’s a good dove and you can take another as they watch their throat bob in tandem. 

Friends shiver from their wingtips down their spine when they pull the spoon back. They let their gaze linger for just a second on those lips that open wide, aching to touch with their own.

Ever the gentleman, Keigo stays lowered to his haunches and places one hand over your forehead to check for a fever, redirecting his focus toward taking inventory of your vitals. He doesn't wince when he hears your moan at the contact, even though the pitiful sound pings at his weak points. His avian instincts remind him he needs to protect you, please you, take care of you; to make it go away, to fix that feeling he knows better than anyone is aching like a bruise between your thighs. 

He doesn't allow his eyes to wander astray or trail their way downwards, especially when you're in such a vulnerable state; but his professional assessment is that if he could only wet his appetite, the flat of his tongue alone could— 

He shakes his head and blows a puff to cool the soup, raising another spoonful to your lips. 

"Here. Another. You need to keep your energy up," he reminds you, voice stern. It's nearly clinical and achieves the opposite of its desired effect.

Your heart rate picks up to thump at a steady, thrumming beat at the innocuous gesture of domesticity. 

How have you never noticed how capable of a mate Keigo would be…? He’s all musculature and sincerity, sharp ridges at his knuckles and soft curves at the small of his waist where he only trusts you to touch.

You huff an involuntary moan. 

He picks another god to praise that the couch you're laying on obscures his lower half. 

Today, Keigo discovers his suppressants are only designed to reduce the chance of a rut being triggered. It brings the possibility of it starting in the first place to a comfortable near-zero, allowing him to carry out the spring and fall seasons as if he were entirely quirkless.

But if that rut passes through the blockers' biochemistry in, say, the event Keigo's luck rears its ugly head, for example… It does fuck all to reduce the actual symptoms. 

More importantly than his own anguish, however, is this: his mate work partner got hurt because of him— hurt being a stretch, he'd know if he weren't overthinking so much, given the blissed out panting just two feet away from him; but you’re probably suffering and it's all his fault. It’s all because of an unlucky, once in a lifetime slip up from Keigo Takami himself, and he can't detangle himself from the guilt.

If drowning in the unexpected whirlpool that is his first rut in half a decade is his penance for the crime, then Keigo will hang his head and take it.

The huff he lets out is your last straw.

"I'm going to my room," you state, moving to leave like you left the stove on and are trying to avoid an upcoming house fire.

When his hand darts out to stop you, the touch against your shoulder sends shockwaves down your stomach.

He's touching you. He's taking such good care of you, feeding you, providing for you in his nest and now he's touching you?

It sends your hormones into overdrive. 

You'd do well to conceal it, if his heightened instincts couldn't smell your desperation. 

"I'm afraid it ain't that easy, dove," Keigo warns, eye contact averted. "I'd avoid doing that, if I were you." 

He schools his expression, but not before you catch a flash of something hungry. 

There's no chance in hell he's letting you out of his sight. Not like this. You're confined to the couch while he keeps an eye on you. Attempting to fix it yourself will only make the feeling unfathomably worse, something he tries to communicate to you with a look that only ends up making him look like a kicked puppy.

You squint right back when you process the implication of his words, eyes raking down his form in suspicion. 

"How do you know all this, anyway," you ask.

Keigo goes silent, hand concealing his mouth. 

Ah, it hits you. 

Bird things.

Your head falls back against one of the numerous pillows your partner propped up behind you.

"The couch is soft," you murmur, situating yourself against the cushions and throw blankets he so carefully arranged. You trail your fingertips along a silk pillow. Keigo slams his eyes shut.

"Please don't say it like that." 

"Why not?" Your lids droop, heat overtaking your better judgement. Tentatively, you play along the bounds. You allow your hands to run along the soft divots of the blanket covering your body, squeezing your chest and pinching the peaks. "It's like a little nest, isn't it?" 

His hand drags down his face before pinching his nose bridge, suppressing a whine. "Baby, please—" 

"You don't wanna join me?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. It's just the heat," Keigo tells himself more than you. "For the love of God, dove, stop talking—"

"But it hurts, Kei'." It’s a low blow, judging by the protective coo that escapes his lips. 

Fed up, he leans forward and swings his right leg over your hip, crawling atop you as if his body has a mind of its own, utterly bogged by desire and yanked like puppet strings.

With Keigo kneeling tall above you, the bodysuit of his hero costume hides absolutely nothing. The musculature is quite impressive, actually. Proof of his viability as a mate— all dominant and masculine and gorgeous.

And at this angle, you can see the most painful erection straining against his pants. 

"I need you, Kei'. I need— mmph!" 

A palm silences you; slapped down, hot, imposing, and heavy like a weight against your mouth. 

The authority of the action makes your cunt clench; and Keigo would die before he lets that feeling go to waste, so his hips drop down to grind once against it. 

Your eyes go wide, doughy and stunned, darting down in haste, following the trail of his thick bicep up toward the disciplinary scowl on his face. 

His nostrils flare with the heaving in his chest, eyes screwed shut with his last slivers of patience holding its grip on his psyche.

"One more word," he says, pulling his hand away. "One more word and I'm ripping this blanket off and fucking you raw." 

After a moment of silence, you speak.

"Please." 

Keigo is wordless when he unbuckles his belt and lets it— and his inhibitions— drop with a satisfying clink.

The reality of what you've gotten yourself into comes crashing down as it hits you how utterly fucked you are. The scaffolding of years of sexual tension comes crumbling down like bricks to rubble, a city of restraint reduced to pure, animalistic desire. 

Years of Keigo's eyes darting away when you nonchalantly change into your uniform in front of him, even though he never seemed bothered by any of his other peers doing the same; years of you both curling in on yourselves at the furthest edges of the bed you had to share, cramped close in those under-the-radar motels on stealth missions; years of the words "idiot, can I kiss you," held back by your lips as you watch Keigo moan when he sinks his teeth into his comfort restaurant's chicken teriyaki every stupid Friday night, sitting cross-legged and at home on the carpet of your apartment floor. 

Not a single word is exchanged as he pulls his cock free from its confines, nearly too thick for his fingers to meet when they wrap around it. He tosses the blanket to the side with haste, dragging your shirt (his shirt) up to your collar, exposing your chest when he lines his cock with your entrance. 

"Please, Kei'," you sniffle. "Hurts." 

"Oh, I know, baby... I know." His lips are pursed when he shushes you, tracing your cheek with his palm. "I'll make it go away."

When your lips meet, it's like static electricity; and it's entirely remorseless.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans against your mouth, dragging his length along your sticky thighs before plopping the thick of it atop your soaked cunt. 

"You're so wet for me," he reveres in awe, dragging the plump tip through your mess to get it slick enough to rub against your clit. 

Your rutting hips buck with impatience in an attempt to glide his length against your swollen pussy, but that only serves to fuel his desire; and those desperate little whines only feed into his insatiable need to fuck, to breed you until you're silent. 

Until you shut the fuck up. 

Those pathetic little sounds are music to his ears, a siren's song that used to play only in his most shameful fantasies; the ones that kept his fist tight around his cock the moment he returned home after missions, the sight of you panting and spitting blood after battle with a smile on your face still fresh in his memory. 

Keigo wants to hear you moan. 

But his rut needs to fuck you wordless with satisfaction. 

"Oh, fuck," he hitches, shifting his hips back and forth to the tune of the audible shlicks below. Unable to stay upright any longer, his chest falls flush into yours in a rut-afflicted haze, rutting against you like animals. 

When he slips his cock inside, it's with a kiss to muffle his voice.

And he wastes no time setting a punishing pace, aided nicely by the slickness that coats the sides of his cock. The legs of the couch surely must be scraping indents into the floorboards, judging by the creaks that mingle with the sounds of his belt buckle at every thrust. You'd notice if either of you were lucid enough to care. 

It's a brief consideration of a possibility of an afterthought, like a sheepish voice behind a roaring crowd. 

Pulling out, that is. 

Yeah, if he were a stronger man, he could probably will his hips to stall. There's a chance someone far stronger than him would hiss when he does it. His cock would weep in denial of that sweet, velvet entanglement, dripping out in the cold when he fists himself to completion mere inches away from what might as well be the center of his goddamn universe.

But when it comes to you, when it comes to his rut, Keigo is not a strong man.

He allows his cock to throb in the vice of your cunt, instead.

"God, baby," he moans into your neck, wings flapping once, twice with each thrust, shedding a few feathers before straightening out and grazing the ceiling behind his back. "Baby. Oh, baby. You're so tight. You're so— fuck!"

He's babbling, but so are you. Legs hooked across the small of his back, you bump your hips as best you can to aid in his efforts; and with your last shreds of lucidity, you decide for the both of you how things will end. 

With watery lashes, you open your eyes enough to blink away some tears and clear your vision just enough. Your gaze crawls up his legs that are still clothed to the thighs, peeking over the curvature of his ass and up his shuddering spine— all to mark onto your scarlet red prize.

When you entangle your fingers into the downy feathers at the base of his wings, it shoots straight to his cock and he spills.

With eyes wide open and a strangled choke at the back of his throat, Keigo's hips stutter when he empties himself. With every throb comes another rope from the tip, sticky and excessive from the rut, mixing with your wetness as you crash over the edge soon after.

When the ringing in your ears ceases and you finally come to, it's to the sight of your now probably-more-than-a-work-partner pulling out and staring between your legs as if under a trance, eyes glimmering.

"Kei', you okay?"

"Uh huh," he answers absentmindedly, utterly transfixed on the mess he made. 

It's strange, he thinks. Whatever urges his rut transcribed into cravings, every instinct that tugged at the avian etched in his DNA and called him to fill you pales in comparison to the satisfaction of having indulged himself at last.

His eyes flick back to meet yours.

"Does this mean I can kiss you at work now?" 

You snort. So that's where his mind goes in the end.

"It means a whole lot more than that," you say, rolling you both over so he lands square on his back.

[fox-bright]

My covid post from last year is going around again, as I sit here debating how and what to write about HPAI H5N1.

I'm tired.

Things to know:

HPAI H5N1, Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza H5N1, is so far wildly lethal when humans get it. Somewhere between 53% and 56% of the humans who have been found to have it have died.

Those people mainly got it from interacting with sick birds. A couple have gotten it from interacting with sick mammals. The one of those that's most important to US news right now is a worker at a milk cow farm who got sick very recently. That worker's only symptom before getting on antiviral medication was pinkeye.

(Keep your cats indoors; cats are getting it from sick birds. Don't have bird feeders this year. Do NOT interact with wild birds that are acting strangely; do not poke at dead wild birds.)

Humans are not yet giving it to humans. There are one or two cases where they might have done, in the last few years; those cases guttered out quickly, to the great good luck of our species, and did not spread.

Human-to-human transmission is the big concern.

We are not in any immediate danger of H2H transmission. When we're in immediate danger, you'll know.

When the flip happens, we will go from not being in immediate danger to being in immediate danger, very rapidly. This could happen this month, or in five months, or in five years, and we don't know when.

By the time we are in immediate danger, it is too late to do the greater bulk of your preparation.

So it's time to prepare now. This time we have is a blessing. We should not squander it. What would you have done differently in September, 2019, if you knew what was coming? Do that.

With some differences; a) flu can pass by fomite--that is, a sick person touches a doorknob, you touch a doorknob, you rub your face, you get sick--so you actually do need cleaning chemicals for this one. b) This one gets in through the eyeballs pretty easily in its current shape, so eye protection should be prepped for adding to masking in public spaces. c) this one is gonna call for fever reducers and we know how hard they were to get when covid hit; stock up. And stock up on pet food if you can keep it from going bad, because pet food gets its protein from cow and bird meat; there will be shortages.

With a lot of similarities; the flu is airborne so don't stop masking, if we have a proper lockdown this time you're going to wish you had flour and rice and canned fruit so keep stock of all your staples. If you have a nice big freezer, now is the time to get beef and chicken before the prices shoot to the ceiling. I'm also stocking up on powdered milk and powdered eggs for baking with.

We have made a lot, a LOT of mistakes with how we've handled covid. But one thing we didn't do wrong was all of the community-building in the early days. Think about what worked then, and what didn't really work. Now is the time to make sure community bonds are strong. As always, as in ANY potential disaster, there are two most-important questions?

Who can protect and support you?

Who can you support and protect?

Plan accordingly.

[sillysiluriforme]

Hi hello! In la terreur au, do the heroes develop corruption proportional to the time they spent with their miraculous? So, like, at some point Luka is already sunbathing and eating rats and Juleka has not yet developed her zoomies and mood swings? (And Marinette has already had her ocd-like acidic-coloured worldview for a while?) Or is it like flu, and when Cat and Ladybug get corrupted, everyone gets corrupted like a snowball?

I like your au and your style a lot! It is so uncomfortably charming, i like how colours you choose match the vibe you choose :> corruption scares, I rarely considered it before. It's cool

Your first guess was correct ! It’s proportional ! Prolonged exposure leads to aggravated symptoms.

And thank you !! I love writing unnerving things and putting down pretty colours. My biggest art pet peeve is bad contrast. If it’s a night scene just make everything blue. I hate when you can’t see shit. Unless it adds to the scene. Most of the time I hate it tho.

[writingseaslugs]

Diasomnia: When You're Sick

The last dorm, and probably the one dorm you don’t want taking care of you…minus Silver. Hope you guys enjoyed this dorm series, I know I did. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to skedaddle back to work. Also the intro is the same for all parts, so if you’ve read it once, you’ve read it all.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please click the “Au Information” below!

Request Information | Masterlist | Au Information

Diasomnia: When You’re Sick

The worst thing to ever happen to you while attending Night Raven College had to be, hands down, getting sick. You were alone in the dorm with only ghosts and Grim to keep you company, and as much as you loved them, they couldn’t take care of you when you became sick. This meant you had to make do and hope that everything was alright. Normally if you were under the weather, you’d just suck it up and go to class so as to not worry anyone. This time however, that wasn’t an option.

You woke up with every muscle in your body feeling sore and aching with even the slightest movement. Your stomach churned something fearsome and you had a runny nose and cough to boot. You had no idea what illness you had fallen to. Having so many symptoms…you could only assume it was the flu or something akin to that.

Still, there was no way you were making it to class like this. So begrudgingly you told Grim you weren’t feeling good and needed to rest, and to go to class and get your homework so you could do it later. The demon cat was grumpy about not having his henchman, but eventually gave in, leaving you alone to rest in your room and hope that whatever you had would go away.

Malleus Draconia

Sebek will be the one mentioning you being sick in passing, noting how Grim had been out of control due to your absence. That’s all Malleus needs to hear before he’s sneaking away from his retainers and going over to your dorm. Thankfully you’re asleep when he appears in your room. He’s standing over your bed, looking over you and placing his large hand over your forehead, noting that it’s warmer than it should be. This prompts him to call up Lilia to inform him of the situation. That’s where the trouble begins.

Malleus has no clue how to care for a human, so it’s already off to a rocky start. Lilia himself knows a little bit, as he had to take care of Silver. The thing with Silver is, other than the narcolepsy, he was always a fairly healthy child…according to Lilia. Really he just always missed the signs that Silver was sick or though it was just a quirk. So now you have two fae over your bed, trying to figure out what’s wrong as you slowly wake up and meet their eyes. You might have a heart attack that devolves into a coughing fit as Malleus is frantically trying to help you.

You’re going to be the one needing to tell them they need to get you the school nurse, and no this is not the time to experiment with treatments. Malleus does so, just because you seemed really adamant, and it’s a good thing. The nurse is nervous with both Lilia and Malleus in the room, but eventually manages to figure out how to take care of you, and even noting that the stuff served in the cafeteria is best for your recovery. Once Lilia knows Malleus has it handled, he leaves. Malleus is doing everything the nurse says, with a little flourish of magic, to make you get better faster. He’s pretty good at reading you as well, so if you move slightly he’s already fluffing your pillow to make it more comfortable, and asking if you’d like more water. He can be very doting normally, and it only increases once you’re sick.

Malleus is going to be relieved, but also not trusting that you’re totally better. Be expecting him to take care of you for a solid week after you’re better, visiting you after classes and bringing you meals, as well as checking your temperature the entire time. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your word, he just doesn’t trust the nurse having the best treatment plan. If he could have it his way, he would’ve brought you to Briar Valley to have one of the doctors there check you over.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia had just decided on a whim to visit your dorm the previous night, wanting to see what you were up to. When he found you curled up in bed shaking, clearly still asleep and unaware of your current condition, he decided to just stick around until the morning. After Grim leaves for school, he makes his grand appearance and is asking you what’s wrong. He’s not as concerned as he should be, since he’s seen Silver like this many times and his son has always made a full recovery. Still, he is a little upset to see you in such a state.

He’s not the best, at all, but he kind of knows what to do. He’s taken care of Silver while he’s sick so he assumes he knows what he’s doing…he doesn’t. If you had a fae illness, he'd be perfect. He could treat that almost as well as a normal doctor. A human illness though…well he’s less experienced in that. Still, he’s going to try and do his best before calling the nurse to get whatever medications he needs to hand you. At least he’s willing to call in help once he figures out he doesn’t know how to make you better.

He’s pretty attentive, if not a little teasing while he takes care of you. Again, he knows you’re not dying so he can have a little fun with it. He will try to put some medicine on a spoon and pretend to be a bird as he brings it to your mouth. Show him the most unimpressed look and he’ll break out into a fit of giggles. Just make sure when it comes to meal times, you request being brought something from the cafeteria, letting Lilia know that his seasonings would be too much on your stomach right now. He agrees and brings you proper food, even if he really wants to add something to it.

He’s going to be over the moon when you’re all better, telling you how happy he is and asking if you want to do something fun now. There’s no resting time after being sick, he’s been so good the past few days waiting for you to be better, that now you need to go and do something with him. He’ll be happy if you agree to sit with him in his dorm room and play a few rounds of a video game though. He’s just happy to have you back honestly.

Silver

He’s another one who finds out through Sebek. He’s half asleep when Sebek begins shouting about how you’re missing and Grim is causing havoc and how he won’t stand for it. Silver only hears you’re missing and after asking he finds out you’re sick. He knows just how bad it can be, being sick with nobody to take care of you. Most of the time Lilia didn’t even realize Silver was sick growing up, so he was on his own. This is going to prompt him to go ahead and check in with you.

Silver is actually pretty good at figuring out what to do while you’re sick. Since he normally took care of himself growing up (even if half the time it was sleeping it off) he at least knew the basics. When he noticed you had  a fever he was looking for things to help with it, alongside something for your cough and stomach. In no time he had all the things he needed to take care of you, and was able to do it without much of an issue. Good news for you, he is very quiet while he speaks to you, so you don’t need to worry about his presence causing you more of a headache.

He’s not perfect at it, but he tries to keep a good schedule up to make sure you’ll be okay. He can cook you something to eat as well, that tastes pretty okay so he doesn’t need to worry about running to the cafeteria before it closes. For the most part though, you both are asleep. In fact, sometimes you need to nudge him awake to grab your medicine, which he will sleepily do and mumble something about being sorry about falling asleep like that.

He’s relieved to know you’re all better and that he managed to help you, but he’s exhausted afterwards. Let him crash at your place and possibly also check in on him to make sure he didn’t catch whatever you had going on. Once he’s awake he’ll just smile and say he’s grateful you’re feeling better, but he needs to get going since you’re both behind on school work. He doesn’t need anything in return for helping you, but if he ever does get sick it wouldn’t hurt to help him out. He was good to you, so returning that favor is needed…especially since Lilia might not even notice Silver is sick…again.

Sebek Zigvolt

He’s going to notice right away once he sees Grim by himself, doing whatever he wants. He’s going to say the only reason he’s going to check in on you is because the sooner you’re better, the sooner you can control Grim. After all, Grim being crazy can disturb Malleus and cause distractions, and he would be a horrible retainer if he allowed that to happen. Nobody but Lilia and Silver would comment about how he was more fidgety the moment he found out, and how he bit down on his bottom lip, gnawing it with worry for you.

Sadly he’s another one who’s totally hopeless when it comes to taking care of someone else. More or less…it’s a bit disastrous. He’s too loud and causes headaches by accident, and he hasn’t the faintest idea on human illnesses despite being half human himself. Normally when he got sick, nobody knew if it was a fae or human illness, so he was treated for both. Which doesn’t bode well for you since he’s going to use that to try and treat you initially.

Once he realizes his efforts aren’t making you better, he’s going to call Silver to help out. He doesn't want to bother Lilia for something like this, and Silver is the only human he likes other than you. Thankfully Silver explains what to do and Sebek will do so, but stumbles a bit. At least you’ll slowly be getting better, and he’s not an idiot and will make sure you’re eating good food. He’s determined to make you better, and eventually he forgets all about the horrible excuse he told others, letting his worry take over for you. After letting him know his voice is a bit too loud, he’s going to quiet down for you. 

He’s relieved to know you’re better and for a while he’s significantly less tense, and everyone notices. Lilia is going to be teasing him about it, making poor Sebek go bright red since he’s been outed for caring about a lowly human. When you thank him, he’ll go back to the lie he told everyone else about wanting Grim to be properly handled, but the red on his cheeks is persistent enough to let you know that it’s a horribly fabricated lie…though you would’ve been able to tell either way.

[hearts-hunger]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist | Join my taglist here!

Summary: You have a surprise for Jake.

Pairings: Jake x Wife!Reader, Josh x Baby, Sam x Danny | Genre: domestic fluff, slight angst | Word Count: 3.7k | Warnings: pregnancy, morning sickness

A/N: I have to throw in a little angst, you know me. But here you go! Jake and Sparrow are having a baby! ♡

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, you listened to the steady roll of thunder and patter of rain and tried to will yourself into feeling better. So far, it wasn't working very well; rocky and nauseous, there was little you could do but hold your head in your hands and be as still as possible. One wrong move and you'd be down for the count, just like you had been yesterday morning and the morning before that.

You know what that means, a little voice said in your head. You grimaced.

“It’s just the flu,” you said to yourself. “Some weird flu with no other symptoms that only happens in the morning.”

The power of positive thinking seemed to be a useless venture, but you kept it up anyway. You couldn't be pregnant. No way you were ready for that.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, and as you quickly straightened up and made yourself promise that you weren't going to be sick, no matter what, you were reminded of somebody else who wasn't ready for you to be pregnant either. You and Jake hadn't really talked about it — the occasional tipsy proposition to get started having a bunch of little Kiszkas wasn't exactly a serious discussion. Neither of you had pictured it this way, on the cusp of a tour and new album, and you decided to stick with your useless positive thinking for a little bit longer.

“Come in,” you said. Jake made his way in, drowsy and sleep-soft, dressed only in his black boxers and the necklaces he never took off. He looked at you in the mirror as he started to brush his teeth.

“Feel okay, sparrow?” he said around his toothbrush.

You nodded. “Fine. Just don't want to be up this early.”

He hummed in agreement and spit toothpaste into the sink. “You were the one who booked us a flight at the crack of dawn.”

You couldn't deny that. Though Josh and Baby had given you plenty of notice on the date of their son's third birthday party, and though you knew the date by heart because you’d been there the day little John Denver Kiszka was born, you’d procrastinated booking a flight until the early-morning option was the only one. To be fair, you'd had a lot on your mind.

Jake turned on the shower. “You wanna save water and jump in with me?”

You smiled. “I love it when you talk conservation to me.”

He smirked and pulled the shower curtain aside, ushering you in. You felt yourself relax in the quiet morning ritual of showering together, washing each other’s hair and gently bickering over who was getting the most water.

“Can you believe JD is three already?” you asked. His present from the two of you, a pint-sized pirate sword you'd gotten at the ren faire a few weeks ago, was neatly wrapped and packed in your suitcase. “It doesn't seem like it's been three years.”

“Seems like it was only yesterday,” Jake crooned in a teasing voice. “The first baby of the Kiszka-Wagner clan.” He shook his head. “It could be us, sparrow. Can you imagine us with a three-year-old? Holy cow.”

All the tension you’d thought had left quickly made its way back into your body. A nervous hand fluttered to your tummy, somehow worried that a pregnancy that you weren't even convinced was real would show itself. 

“It wouldn't be so terrible,” you said weakly.

He smiled and kissed your cheek, turning the shower off and grabbing you a towel. “No, it wouldn't be so terrible. But not right now. Soon, but not right now.”

You felt nauseous again as you toweled off and dressed. You didn't talk much as you both readied to leave, putting your suitcases in the back of the car and patting Gibson, your cat, goodbye. A kind, cat-loving coworker of yours was coming by to feed Gibby while you were gone, but Jake gave him snuggles and kisses like it was the last time they were ever going to see each other.

“You be good,” Jake said, stroking Gibby’s head as he purred like a car engine. “Mama and I love you very very much.”

Some weird, clawing thing stuck in your throat at him calling you “mama” even though he'd always referred to you that way to your cat. You kissed Gibby’s head and went out to the car, taking a few deep breaths as you watched the rain slide down the passenger side window.

“Five-thirty?” Jake groaned as he backed the car out of the driveway. “Sparrow, we gotta get some coffee.”

Your mood was pensive and distant through the drive, checking in at the airport, and boarding the plane. Jake got away with just one request for his picture and signature in the terminal; the girl was wearing a Mirador shirt, and Jake grinned at her promise to get his signature tattooed right where he’d signed it on her arm. 

“Never gets old,” he said, slinging his arm over yours as you stood in line to board. “Tell me you like being married to a rockstar.”

You gave him a weak smile. “I like being married to a rockstar.” You did, and you wouldn't trade the constant enjoyment of Jake’s skill and success as a musician. But the rockstar life made some things difficult, and you didn't dare think of what problems would arise if you really were pregnant.

Jake very sweetly gave you the window seat, intending and quickly managing to fall asleep against your shoulder. You looked out at the rainy tarmac and thought of Josh and Baby, two of your dearest friends, people who had not only managed to start a family in the middle of the rockstar life but become very good at it. Their son was the light of their lives, and they'd integrated domestic life into Josh’s whirlwind schedule of recording, touring, and constant limelight with every ounce of joy and patience a couple could ever hope to have. They would help you and Jake, happily, if it turned out that your positive thinking came to naught.

You tried to push the thought out of your head and rest against Jake, readying yourself for a day of summer birthday fun with your family. Your friends and your precious nephew deserved the best version of you, and by the time you pulled up to Josh and Baby’s beautiful old house in Frankenmuth, you were ready to jump right in.

The theme was toddler-friendly life on the high seas, and sweet, colorful, swashbuckling decorations adorned every inch of the house. Coming in, you heard your family in the kitchen and out on the back deck, the sliding door wide open to let dripping, bathing-suited partygoers come back and forth for snacks and popsicles before another splash in the pool.

“Ahoy, mateys!” Jake called, following you as you came into the kitchen. Baby looked up, a bright smile on her pretty face, and abandoned the cubes of watermelon she was spearing with tiny plastic swords.

“You’re here!” she said happily, throwing her arms around you. “Oh, I was worried — Josh said you might have bad weather coming out of Nashville.”

“Just some rain,” you assured her, so relieved to be here with her and the rest of your family. You hugged her back tightly. “How’s the party so far?”

She laughed and gestured to the back yard, accepting an affectionate ruffle of her hair from Jake. “Ready to get started, now that you're here. Have drink, put on your bathing suit, enjoy yourself.”

You went to say hello to your brothers, and JD graciously paused his relentless jumping into Sam’s arms in the pool to hug you and Jake. Dripping wet, his curly hair wreathed with sunshine, he looked up at you and your husband like you’d hung the moon.

“I so happy you're here!” he said gleefully. “Is’ my birthday!”

You smiled and kissed his chubby cheek. “It is! Happy birthday, honey.”

You let him get back to swimming and went to change into your bathing suit. Before long, you were happily drawn into sun-soaked hours of lounging by the pool, talking about everything and nothing with your family. Rosie, who wasn't as spry as she used to be but still patient and amenable to JD’s wet hands mussing her fur, thumped her tail as she lay under the shade of Danny’s chair.

“Sam wants another puppy,” Danny said, taking a long pull from a Corona. “He told his mom we're going to be parents, and she almost lost her shit until she figured out he meant another dog and not a baby.”

Sam planted a kiss on Danny’s forehead. “No babies until we're married, Wagner. I've told you this a hundred times.”

“He’s old fashioned,” Danny agreed, giving you a slightly wistful smile. “But he’s right. We’d have our hands full with a bunch of dogs and a whole entire person.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Josh called from the pool, holding JD as the little boy paddled and splashed and giggled. “You should go for it. All of you. Me and Baby feel kinda left out being the only ones with bedtimes at seven-thirty.”

Jake laughed. “No thanks. I've still got some partying years in me.”

Your throat felt tight. “Maybe partying’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Sam teased.

Baby seemed to notice something was off with you, and she put her hand over yours. 

“Will you come help me get some stuff from the kitchen?” she asked.

You went with her willingly, needing a break from the sun and the harmless teasing that seemed to twist like a knife in you. You took the Capri-suns and sub sliders from the fridge as she mixed a pitcher of what was appropriately labeled “Jack Sparrow’s missing rum punch”.

“You want some?” she asked.

You bit your lip. “Better not.”

She poured herself a drink and joined you at the counter where you half-heartedly put pirate-sail toothpicks in the sandwiches.

“All the decorations came out really cute,” you said, meaning it despite your quiet tone.

She smiled. “Thanks, sparrow. You know Jake’s had JD into pirates since the day he was born, and now that he's finally old enough to enjoy it, I figured it was time to pull out all the stops.”

She brushed your hair back from your face. “Sparrow... are you pregnant?”

You felt a vivid blush rise to your face. Was it pinned to your dress like a scarlet letter? But meeting her eyes, seeing sympathy and understanding there, you slowly nodded.

“I think so,” you all but whispered. “I — I haven't taken a test. I don't know for sure.”

“But your period’s late?” she asked calmly.

“And I've been having morning sickness,” you managed. “It — I mean, it could be the flu, but —”

She laughed, but it wasn't unkind.

“It’s probably not the flu, honey.” She squeezed your hand. “I have a test in the bathroom if you want to take it.”

You were surprised. “Are you pregnant?”

She shrugged. “Not at the moment. I’m not planning on it, but...” She gave you a wry smile. “Sometimes these things happen, sparrow. It’s not the end of the world. It might actually be the start of something really wonderful for you and Jake.”

You felt the sting of tears. “I haven't said anything to him. I didn't want to if I wasn't sure. I don't know if he’ll...” Tears spilled over. “If he’ll be happy.”

“Of course he’ll be happy,” she said, and it was so confident and so sure that you felt a buoying of hope. “He’ll be over the freakin’ moon, sparrow. Don't let all this nostalgia for partying get to you. Josh was happy when we found out we were having JD, and Jake will be happy if you find out you're having a baby too.”

You swallowed. “You think so?”

She smiled and brushed the tears from your face. “Yeah, I think so. Go find out if you are.”

You did as she said, finding the Clearblue test under the sink. Waiting was agonizing; you forced yourself to wait longer than you were supposed to, not sure if you could bear it, whatever the result was. You wanted a baby with Jake; nothing would give you more pleasure than to make him a father, to start a family with the man you loved. But was he ready? Were you ready?

Finally, you looked at the test. There, in little black letters: pregnant.

A gasping sort of sob escaped you. You clapped a hand over your mouth and sank to the floor, holding the test in shaking fingers, reading it over and over. Pregnant. You and Jake were having a baby.

You cried, but whether they were happy tears or just a sign of how overwhelmed you were, you couldn’t tell. Sitting on your best friends’ bathroom floor, you watched your tears blur that one little word that would change everything.

Eventually, you collected yourself enough to wash your face at the sink and tuck the test in the pocket of your sundress. You ventured out to the back porch and found your family in a safe, comforting chaos; Baby and Danny were swimming with JD, and the twins were soundly beating Sam in garbage. 

Jake looked up as you came out, a handsome smile lighting his face. “Hi, sweetheart. You wanna play the next hand?”

You looked over at Baby, and she grinned when you gave her a little smile. She nodded towards Jake, urging you to tell him.

“Um...” You twisted the fabric of your dress in nervous fingers. “Actually, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure. Let me just...” He laid out his cards and was met with groans from his brothers, and he smirked. “Read it and weep, fellas.”

Josh gathered up the cards to be dealt again, and Jake was careful of the empty beer bottles on the table as he stood and came inside with you. He was a little tipsy, his piratey swagger giving it away more than anything else, sun-kissed and smiley and so beautiful to you that you thought you would never get tired of just looking at him. Would your baby look like him? You hoped so, and it was the promise of another someone like Jake Kiszka in the world that made you brave enough to speak.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, your voice a little wobbly. 

He pulled you close and gave you a kiss. “Don’t tell me. You want to ravish me.”

You gave a soft laugh. “Not exactly.” You led him to the guest bedroom, though, wanting it to be just the two of you with no one walking in accidentally. 

“This is... not convincing,” he teased when you closed the door behind you. “I guess you’re feeling better than you were this morning, huh?”

You were, but the reason wasn't what he thought. Now that you knew, now that you were sure and had the confidence and encouragement of your best friend, you were feeling much better. Now you just needed Jake to tell you it would be alright.

“I think I might not be... over that,” you said cautiously. “Like, it might be a recurring thing. Every morning.”

He frowned, searching your face. “What do you mean? Is something wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Nothing's wrong.” 

“What is it, then?”

You pulled the test out of your pocket and handed it to him. “Um... I think that’s what it is.”

You waited for him to speak, to do anything, but he just looked at it in silence, cradled in the palm of his hand. Then, after a moment, he looked up at you.

“Are you serious?”

You couldn’t read his tone. Shock, surprise, maybe a little fear, something you hoped was excitement — all of them bled into the color of his voice.

“I'm serious,” you said, starting to feel like you were going to cry again. “I just took it. It's... I mean, it's pretty clear.”

He closed his hand around the test. Almost like he’d taken a blow, he stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed.

Your heart dropped right to the floor when he hid behind his free hand, leaning over his knees. Tears blurred your vision.

“I know it’s not the best time,” you said, desperate for some kind of reassurance. You came close to him. “But I think if we — if —” You didn't know what to say. “I think we can do it, Jake. I think we can have this baby.”

He lifted his head and met your eyes, a big, bright smile shining through a tearful haze. 

“You’re really pregnant?” he asked, and it was all joy.

You all but collapsed against him then, putting your arms around his neck, holding him as he tested your head against your tummy. He put his arms around you and held you close, caught somewhere between laughing and crying.

“I’m really pregnant,” you said softly. “Jake, are you happy?”

He stood and spun you around, exultant, laughing like a little boy on Christmas morning.

“Yes, I'm happy!” He stopped spinning you to kiss you, sweet and messy and so in love with you. “Are you crazy, sparrow? I've never been so happy in my whole life!”

You looked up at him with your heart in your eyes. “You don't think it's a bad time?”

He hushed you with another kiss. “No way. It's the perfect time. Forget everything I ever said about it being a bad time.” His smile was so big and beautiful. “I can't believe we're having a baby, sparrow. You're gonna be such a good mom. I love you, and I'm so proud of you. I love you so much.”

“Oh, Jake,” you said gently. “I love you too.”

He held you close and you melted against him, safe, loved, so happy you were delirious with it. You were having a baby! It sang in every part of you, and you joined in his joyful tears and watery laughter.

“Let’s go tell everybody,” he said, taking your hand. “You want to?”

You nodded, feeling that you'd never been more in love with him than you were just then.

He led you back out to the porch and tried to keep the suspense up as your family watched your giddy, excited entrance. Everyone was sitting at the table now, JD fast asleep on Josh’s lap; Jake was grinning to beat the sun, bright and shining with pride and contagious joy as the two of you stood before the people you loved.

“I don't mean to steal the little man’s thunder,” Jake said, looking with heart-rending tenderness at his brother and his baby. “This a great birthday for a great little guy. But...” He looked to you, and you gave his hand and encouraging squeeze. 

“Well, I guess we’ll be planning another birthday party soon,” Jake said, the words fairly bursting out, “because... we're having a baby!”

Your family erupted into a wonderful cacophony shocked questions and joyful hollering, chairs protesting as they were pushed back, pirate decorations toppling on the tabletop as you and Jake were surrounded with hugs and kisses and congratulations. JD woke, a little uneasy at all the happy noise, and Josh cuddled him close with a beaming smile and told him he was going to have a cousin very soon.

“Oh,” was all the little boy said, one hand tangled in Josh’s shirt as he looked on the gathering with a bleary smile.

Baby fairly tackled you, telling you how much she loved you, how happy she was for you. You stood in the circle of your family and couldn't help a few tears, but they were nothing but happy now.

After the boys reined in their joyful rowdiness and you had been hugged so many times you felt the pressure of love on you like a warm blanket, it was time for cake and presents and celebration of the first little Kiszka your family had been blessed with. JD loved all his presents, running around in his too-big pirate outfit from Sam and Danny and waving the sword you and Jake had gotten him, and the adults settled at the table to enjoy each other's company. In the light of the setting sun, sun-flushed cheeks sore from smiling and music playing and drinks flowing, you family was as beautiful to you as they had ever been.

Jake patted his lap, and you squeezed with him in the chair and welcomed his protective, loving arms around you. 

“So, what are we naming this baby?” Sam asked, dealing out a hand of cards. “Jake junior?”

“Jack Sparrow,” Josh offered.

You laughed. “Maybe. I think it’ll be a girl, though.”

Jake looked up at you. “You know already?”

You kissed him. “Not officially, honey. I didn't mean to get you all excited. But... I don't know. I can feel it.”

Baby nodded as she gathered her cards. “I could tell with JD. Sometimes you just know.”

“It should be a bird name,” Danny suggested. “Since you guys are into that sort of thing.”

Jake smiled. “Yeah, it should.” His hand rested on your tummy, and you put your hands over his. “What about Robin?”

The name washed over you with a special kind of peace. “Okay,” you said softly. “Sparrow and her Jake-bird and their little Robin.”

Your family cooed over the name as you gave Jake a gentle kiss, and you knew it was perfect for your little girl. 

Cake was eaten, drinks topped off, and music cranked up until it was well and truly a party. JD, with all the enthusiasm he could muster while falling asleep on Danny’s lap, joined in the various cheers and groans as you played cards together. You couldn't wait until you had another little Kiszka to join the party — your Robin would be around five months old at JD’s next birthday bash, and maybe there would even be another Kiszka-Wagner baby on the way. For now, though, everything was perfect, and you rested in it as you spent time with the ones you loved.

Jake pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“I love you, sparrow,” he said gently, just for you. “And I love our little bird.”

You touched his cheek and drew him up to kiss your properly, loving the feel of his smile.

“Jakey,” you said softly. “We love you too.”

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[avonne-writes]

hc for sick Gale in your kitty AU, does he prefer to be a cat when he is sick? can he even be a cat at that time, does he need cuddles or does he prefer to be alone, how different it is for Gale considering the time before and after the war, etc. etc. :)

Baby boy 🥺 It depends on what kind of symptoms he has. He'd rather die than deal with gastrointestinal issues in cat form, I mean, look at that cream-white fur... Stuffy nose makes him panic as a kitty, so he stays human until that resolves. If he can breathe through his nose but he has a high fever, he likes being a cat because he can burrow under the blankets better. He doesn’t like to be picked up then because his bones ache, but he finds cuddling comforting.

Sometimes, he tells Bucky verbally in which position he wants to cuddle before shifting into his cat form and climbing into Bucky’s arms. When he has the flu, he prefers being in cat form. It always makes Bucky's heart ache when Gale is really sick and lethargic but still purrs a little.

Before the war, Gale spent almost all of his sick days in human form. A few times, he huddled with the barn cats. Bucky is the first - and basically the only - person who gets to hold him in cat form when he's sick.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Fever Dream (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @saraicus​​​​

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Established relationship. Fluff. You develop a flu-like illness resulting in fever dreams. Morpheus helps you with the nightmares and cares for you.

Warnings: sickness, nightmares

Word Count: 2.2k

Sandman Masterlist

--------------------------------------------

Pressing your fingertip to the red circle of pixels on your phone screen to hang up the call took effort.

That was when you knew that you were in for a brutal few days.

Your boss had asked very few questions on said call, summating pretty easily from your voice that you were not in any fit state to be working.

Your first sign of what was to come had been the sore throat that had emerged the day before yesterday. A scritchy sensation that had intensified with every swallow before progressing into a tickly cough in the next 24 hours.

Bedtime last night saw you at the proverbial fork in the sickness road. One path led to a moderate illness and the other to a severe one. The only way to know which you were about to be dealt was to wait until morning.

According to your memory, there had been no recent contact with anyone acutely sick, and with this in mind, you had not mentioned your symptoms to Morpheus when you had gone to meet him in the Dreaming. There seemed little reason; you had been fairly certain that it wasn’t going to be bad.

Understatement didn't even cover it.

You had woken ten minutes ago with aches so deep inside your bones that it felt like your marrow was being scraped by razor claws. Every movement was now painful, including low impact ones like utilising your phone.

You plop the object on your bedside table before slumping back against your pillow.

All you desire is sleep yet you know you must attend to some basic needs first. You go through the list in your head:

1. Toilet

2. Sustenance

3. Hydration

4. Painkillers

5. Hydration Pt. II

The very idea of moving was not tempting in the slightest yet you cajole yourself out into the cold air of your apartment. Your steps are wobbly on the way to the bathroom and lurching as you press on to the kitchen.

You shovel a banana into your mouth and down an entire pint of water with great urgency. Two paracetamol tablets are then chased down with another gulp of tepid liquid.

How you manage to get back to your bedroom while holding a full glass and several packets of medication without incident, you are unsure however, it is a relief when you are back under your covers.

Sleep claims you not long after.

***

Morpheus senses your return to the Dreaming and it confuses him slightly. Why had you come back so quickly? You are a firm believer in getting up when your alarm sounds.

The Endless reasons that you must have changed your schedule. A day of leave from work, perhaps. The idea satisfies him for a little while and then curiosity becomes too predominant.

He lets his being drift towards your sleeping mind to check in.

What he finds in your subconscious is a kaleidoscope of disjointed scenes, all with an unpleasant or sinister underpinning.

You are holding a frightened cat in your arms as you wade through knee high sewage. You are in a room with an old television that bursts into flames when you go to turn it off. You are scrabbling on a hardwood floor, desperately trying to find something but being completely unable to remember what it was that you had misplaced. You are running through deserted streets, convinced that someone is following you, taking more and more detours to try and shake them off.

He feels your fear reach a crescendo as your pursuer gains a corporeal form. The images then begin to shake, burning and flashing with a palette of hyper-reality.

He has seen this many times before.

You were having a fever dream.

Which meant you were suffering.

You suddenly cry out his name and the sound is like the stab of a blade in Morpheus' gut.

He ends the nightmarish dream without hesitation, tells Lucienne of his intentions and leaves to journey to you in the Waking World.

***

Morpheus stands at the foot of your bed. Even with the curtains drawn, he is able to notice your off-colour complexion. Your eyes are closed despite being awake. The covers are draped clumsily over your frame. He longs to re-arrange them to ensure you are completely wrapped in their embrace but he doesn't want to startle you with an unexpected touch.

He speaks your name.

Your eyelids flutter and your attention is drawn to where he is standing. Your eyes are unable to focus yet you know what you are seeing is Morpheus for you would recognise his silhouette anywhere. Whether he was real was a different matter.

"Morpheus?"

"My love."

His deep, rich timbre thrums through the air at a resonance that is unable to be fabricated; no hallucination could match it even if it tried.

"Why are you here?"

As your partner, it was not the first time he had been in your house however it was the first time he had come unannounced.

"You called for me in your sleep."

"I did?" You let out a cough.

"You were having a fever dream."

You suddenly become aware of the clammy sweat that is drenching every part of your body. In fact, the more you dialled into your senses, the more you began to notice other hallmarks of being in the grasp of a fever. The inability to regulate your core temperature manifesting in the quick-fire switching of hot and cold. Deep seated shivers that ripple through your body and into the mattress. It must have come on since you had fallen asleep.

Morpheus moves to crouch beside you.

"What can I do to help you, my love?"

"I think I just need to sleep."

He concurs with a nod before adding, "I will ensure that it is a peaceful one."

He reaches inside the pocket of his coat and produces his leather pouch.

"When would you like me to wake you?"

You fumble for your phone to check the time.

"In 3 and a half hours. That's when I can take my next lot of medication."

"May I sit next to you?"

You nod your agreement.

Morpheus walks around the bed and removes his boots before situating himself beside you. He neatens the duvet with a precise tug.

"I will be here to watch over you."

"Thank you," you whisper hoarsely.

Morpheus takes some sand and breezes it across your face with a steady exhalation. He feels your mind materialise in the Dreaming.

Barefoot, you walk on the shoreline of a deserted beach. A gentle tide laps over the golden sand. The sun is high in the sky, accompanied by pillowy clouds. A tranquil haven.

You sit just out of reach of the waves and deeply breathe the sea salt air with closed eyes. Morpheus chooses this moment to step into the frame and settle next to you, a direct mirroring of your waking world configuration.

He watches you intently and is soon satisfied; your smile and the unfurling of your fists indicate that you have calmed, at least in your psychological space.

Morpheus comes back to your bedroom and assumes sentry. A couple of hours pass and then he begins to see a fiery blaze in your cheeks.

His palm presses against your forehead. It is inferno-like in temperature. He pulls you out, rife with worry. You come to slowly, weakly rubbing the remnants of the sand from the corners of your eyes.

"Is it really 10:30 already?" Your voice sounds strange and nasal when you talk.

"No, my love. I felt it necessary to wake you; you are crimson."

He folds the cover back to give you some ventilation. The cooler air feels good on your skin.

"The meds must have worn off already," you reason dazedly.

"I think it would be wise if you drink some water."

He helps you to sit up. You take small sips as he rubs circles on your lower back, an action that never fails to induce relaxation inside you.

After you lay back down, you find the next 45 minutes to be agony. The pressure in your sinuses is making the roots of your teeth ache horribly. Involuntary twitches of your limbs shoot pain everywhere. Your temperature inches higher and higher, forcing you to throw off the covers entirely.

You whimper involuntarily as the random spasms become non-stop shudders and that is when you begin to feel tears leaking from your eyes.

Morpheus hates seeing you this way. You know it from how his gaze never strays from you, in the way he protectively strokes your face.

"I'm sorry." They are the only words you can muster right now with the brain fog that has taken hold.

"Why are you apologising? You did not choose to be unwell."

His words console you instantly. You could always rely on him to be the voice of reason.

You check your phone again. It was finally time for your next round of tablets.While waiting for the medication to kick in, you find that your mind starts to lose clarity and lucidity. Fever-induced images float eerily before your eyes; you screw them shut, hoping to sleep instead but you can’t because of frustrating cyclical thoughts.

A single lyric from a song you had been listening to yesterday repeats with sanity-robbing precision. More tears fall. Morpheus wipes them away.

"Can you make me sleep again?" You ask desperately.

***

Over the next couple of days, Morpheus uses his sand several times to ease you into slumber. It wrecks your sleep pattern, along with the daytime napping, however he reasons it is necessary for healing and allows it. He also takes care of you in other ways through refilling your water glass, bringing you food and steadying you while you brush your teeth and wash.

The depths of his patience and devotion were seemingly bottomless. You do not know what you would have done without him. When you tell him this, his usual composure slips and he turns an adorable, bashful pink.

At the end of the third day, you feel a marked change in your health. The fever breaks, taking the shudders and hallucinations with it. You are still weak, achy and mentally fuzzy but the difference is such a relief for you, and for your diligent partner.

When the evening draws in, you are finding it near-impossible to switch off with your broken circadian rhythm. Morpheus is reading a book by lamplight beside you; you place a hand on his to get his attention.

“Can you help me sleep, please?”

You look automatically to the pocket where he keeps his sand pouch. Morpheus places the book on the floor.

“Not this time, my love. You are much improved and you must learn to sleep on your own again.”

You worry your bottom lip. “I don't think I can.”

He smiles at you softly, moving a few stray strands of hair off your face. “You can. I believe in you.”

“But it's so easy when you use your sand. Effortless. It’s a nice change from the usual everyday exertions.”

Morpheus’ fingers languidly caress your cheeks. His bottomless blue eyes are full of wisdom and adoration.

“I find effort to be a reliable of gauge of whether something has purpose or meaning. Everything that is worth doing requires some kind of effort,” He has adopted the whispered tone that makes his sentences sound like lullabies.

“Annoyingly, I think you may be right,” you sigh.

He releases a satisfied noise at your agreement and he lies down beside you.

“Come here.”

He initiates a slow and deep kiss. You instinctively reach for his messy, silken hair and he clings to you in a similar fashion, both of you savouring the first proper intimacy you have been able to share in many days.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against yours. You are flooded with oxytocin and all tension in your body melts away however, despite his best intentions, you feel more awake than ever.

“Morpheus?” Your voice is croaky.

“Yes?”

“I still can't sleep.”

He laughs a precious laugh. “Let us try a different approach then, my little insomniac.”

He gently rolls you over onto your side and positions himself flush against you.

“I want you to focus on me. Feel me holding you. The sensation of my arms cradling you. My palms on your abdomen. My chest against your back.”

You do as he says, already feeling hypnotised.

“Feel my breath on your skin. Hear my voice. Inhale my scent. Taste me on your lips.”

You let out a breathy, contented noise.

“You are safe here. You can relax. Just relax your body and your mind will follow. That's it. Drift across to the Dreaming. I'll meet you there.”

His coaxing is working. You feel so very tired now.

“I love you,” you say sleepily.

“I love you too.”

You manage one more sentence. “Thank you for looking after me.”

"Always."

You nuzzle further into his embrace. His mouth brushes against the shell of your ear.

“Sleep now, my love."