#a normal amount I have a fever don’t worry

[kokokuroro]

Did Noctis and Prompto get associates degrees between high school and the start of the game or what because there are two years unaccounted for more or less TELL ME NOMURA

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : IN SICKNESS AND IN CARE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Literally none!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When you catch a cold and try to hide it to avoid being a burden, Logan quickly notices you're not your usual sunny self. Despite your protests, he steps in to take care of you, showing a softer side as he insists you don't have to carry everything alone. In Logan's gruff but tender way, you learn that even the strongest need someone to lean on sometimes.

Based on this request.

THE COOL AIR THAT DRIFTED THROUGH THE MANSION WAS A PLEASANT REPRIEVE FROM THE USUAL HEAT OF THE DAY, but for some reason, it didn’t quite feel the same. You rubbed your arms, a shiver crawling down your spine. Your normally sunny disposition felt dimmed, and no amount of fake smiles seemed to mask how off you were feeling. Logan had already given you a curious glance at breakfast when you didn’t chatter on about your plans for the day.

He wasn’t the kind of man to prod too much. That wasn’t his style. But as the day dragged on, and you avoided him during training, kept quiet during the team meeting, and all but disappeared into your room, it was becoming impossible for him to ignore.

The door to your shared room creaked open, and Logan stood in the doorway, watching as you sat curled up under the blanket on the bed, tissues scattered around you. Your cheeks were flushed, and your usually bright eyes were dim and watery.

“Alright,” Logan grumbled, his voice rough but gentle, “what’s going on with you?”

You sniffled, rubbing your nose with a tissue before looking up at him. “Nothing,” you mumbled, your voice sounding congested. “I’m fine, Logan.”

Logan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. His boots thudded against the wooden floor as he moved closer. “You don’t look fine. You’ve been avoiding me all day, and now you’re holed up here lookin’ like death warmed over. What’s goin’ on?”

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you let your head fall back against the pillow. You weren’t acting like yourself, and you knew it. Normally, you were the ray of sunshine in Logan’s life, always bright and cheerful, bringing a light into his otherwise gruff and hardened world. But today… today, you just couldn’t muster the energy. The weight of the cold was pressing down on you, and it felt as if every part of you was being drained of its usual warmth.

“I caught a cold,” you admitted reluctantly, your voice quieter than usual.

Logan narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the bedpost. “A cold?” he repeated, as if the idea was foreign to him. “Why the hell are you still workin’ if you’ve got a cold?”

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “A burden? You think takin’ care of yourself makes you a burden?”

“I just didn’t want to make anyone worry,” you mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed now. “I know everyone’s busy, and you’ve got your own stuff to handle. I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

Logan let out a low growl, his frustration evident, but not at you. He pushed himself off the bedpost and came to sit beside you on the bed, his hand brushing some hair out of your face. The touch was surprisingly tender for someone with such a rough exterior.

“Darlin’,” he began, his tone softer now, “you ain’t a burden. Not to me. Not to anyone.” His calloused fingers trailed down your cheek, feeling the warmth of your fever. “You’re sick, and that’s all there is to it. You shouldn’t be pushin’ yourself like this.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could say anything, Logan’s expression shifted, a mixture of concern and protectiveness flashing across his face.

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re fine,” he said, cutting you off before you could protest. “I know you. I’ve been around long enough to know when somethin’ ain’t right, and you ain’t yourself today. You’re burnin’ up, Sunshine.”

A small, tired smile tugged at the corners of your lips when he used his nickname for you. “I’ll be okay, Logan, really. I just need to sleep it off.”

He wasn’t buying it. Not one bit.

“You’re not gettin’ out of this one that easy,” he muttered, standing up and heading toward the bathroom. You could hear him rummaging around, muttering to himself about where the hell Hank kept the damn thermometer.

You groaned softly, sinking deeper into the covers. “Logan, I can take care of myself…”

“Yeah? Well, I’m takin’ care of you now, so deal with it,” he called back from the bathroom. Moments later, he returned with a damp washcloth and a thermometer. He pressed the washcloth to your forehead, the cool sensation soothing your feverish skin.

You squirmed slightly, feeling a little uncomfortable with all the attention. Logan wasn’t exactly the nurturing type—at least, not outwardly—but the way he was hovering over you made your heart swell. You knew he cared, but he rarely showed it in such an obvious way.

“Stop fussin’,” he grumbled as he stuck the thermometer under your tongue. “I ain’t lettin’ you fight this thing alone, so just stay put.”

The thermometer beeped, and Logan took a look at the reading, his jaw tightening. “You’re runnin’ a fever. You should’ve said somethin’ sooner.”

You shrugged weakly, the energy to argue completely gone. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Logan sighed deeply, his gruff exterior softening for just a moment as he sat back down beside you. “You worry me more when you don’t say anythin’,” he admitted quietly.

His words caught you off guard, and you looked up at him through bleary eyes. Logan wasn’t one for emotional speeches, but there was a raw honesty in his voice that made your chest tighten.

“I can take care of myself, but I ain’t used to people takin’ care of me,” Logan continued, his voice low. “But you… you’re different. You’re the light in all this darkness, and if somethin’ happens to you… I don’t know what I’d do.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the strength beneath his skin. “I’m not going anywhere, Logan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He let out a soft, almost inaudible grunt before pulling the blanket up over you. “Damn right you’re not,” he muttered, his tone gruff but tender. “Now, rest. I’ll get you some soup or somethin’.”

As he stood up to leave, you grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Logan… thank you.”

He gave you a small nod, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You’re welcome, Sunshine. Just remember, you ain’t gotta do everything on your own. You’ve got me now.”

With that, Logan left the room, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of the blankets. You hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of your exhaustion was until now, but with Logan by your side, you finally allowed yourself to rest, knowing he’d be there to take care of you.

And, for once, you were okay with that.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @veru-boom @wolviesgirl @lanabobana @shybluebirdninja @corvusmorte @seamlessepiphany @allmyn1ghts @chronicallybubbly @lex-the-flex @evasmlp @whxtewolf @froggieeez

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!🫶

[multifandomfanficss]

A Classic Sick Fic

Hughie Campbell x sick!supe!reader

Prompt: You’re sick and Hughie forces you to let him take care of you.

Warnings: vomit, other general cold and flu symptoms, inability to breathe

A/N: I’m sick and I just want Hughie to hold me and for some reason I’m unable to figure out why there is a criminally low number of fics for Hughie. I think he’s really neat. He is so special to me. Being the change I want to see in the world or whatever. Please don’t judge any typos I’m so ill. I envisioned this sometime during season 2. Let’s pretend Annie isn’t there for a sec. (I love her tho she is my girlfriend and he is my boyfriend and we are all happy and in love in my silly little head.) Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hughie asked again, while you coughed for probably the millionth time.

“Yeah I’m fine.” You weren’t fine. In truth your cough and endless runny nose were driving you insane. You hated being sick. You couldn’t stand your body not feeling the way it usually does.

“You look miserable- well not to say you look bad, well you do look bad, but not in the way that- I’m gonna just stop talking before I dig myself into a bigger whole.” He shifts awkwardly.

“It’s okay, Hughie. I feel like shit.” You sigh, well as much of as sigh as your body can let out while your nose is this stuffy.

“Can I do anything to help?” He asks.

A hug. You really wanted a hug, but you didn’t want to get him sick. You also didn’t know how to ask without making it awkward. You didn’t really know what you and Hughie were. You felt like more than just friends, but you’d never talked about it. It was hard when you were on the run from Vought. If you were being honest you couldn’t really even afford to be sick right now. If you were sick, you couldn’t use your powers and Butcher wouldn’t want to keep around a useless supe. It’s already pretty useless enough that you can even get sick. Other supes are bulletproof.

“No, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.” You fake a smile, coughing again.

“No can do. I never stop worrying about you.” He smiles, but his tone is very serious. A blush creeps up on your face, but it’s easy to mistake your cheeks heating up for a fever.

You start to cough again, but this time it doesn’t stop. You have a coughing fit that leaves you gasping for air. You reflexively reach out for Hughie’s arm. He takes your hand in his, rubbing your back with his other hand.

“It’s okay. Just breathe. Let me help you for once.” He gives your hand a light squeeze. You nod, tears coming to your eyes.

“Trash can!” You yell between coughs. Hughie acts quickly, bringing the trash can to your lap.

“Woah, hey it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He holds your hair back, continuing to rub circles on your back. “Just breathe. Take your time.”

“I’m- so- sorry!” You struggle to get out the words while your hurl into the can.

“Don’t be sorry. You can’t control it. Just let it out. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying to help you through this. I lost count a long time ago of the amount of times you saved my ass. Let me help you. I promise you, I’ve had to deal with much grosser substances for this team than a little vomit.” His calming voice talks you through it, yapping along like this is a totally normal position to be in. Maybe it was. You didn’t know. You weren’t used to anyone caring this much.

“I’ll be right back.” He got up and quickly went to get you some water. You hated being alone, even for a minute, but you gladly took the water. It felt cool on your irritated throat.

“Drink it slowly.” He lets out a soft chuckle, seeing you start to gulp down the water. You slow down at his advice. You know if you drink it too fast you’ll get sick again.

“I’m so fucking tired.” Once you’ve recovered Hughie starts to pull you down into the bed.

“That’s okay. Just rest.” He attempts.

“I can’t. There’s too much going on.” You try to fight your fatigue. Hughie lays down pulling you into his arms. “I don’t wanna get you sick.”

“I’ve got a pretty good immune system. I’m not worried about getting sick. I know our entire world is like kinda imploding, but if you don’t rest you won’t be able to help anyone.” He tries to bargain. You also can’t deny how warm he is, or how your body just melts into his. He’s so comfortable. Laying with him is probably the calmest your brain has felt in weeks. “It’s okay to take a break, (Y/N). Even when the world is falling a part around you, if you don’t stop to take a break you’ll fall a part with it. Trust me. I learned that the hard way. Just relax. Close your eyes. I’m going to stay here and make sure things stay okay as long as we need them to for you to get better.”

You finally stop fighting it and close your eyes. You’re drifting in and out of sleep when you feel Hughie place a kiss on your forehead. Everything will be okay. It has to be.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Hey bestieeee I would like to request a super fluffy Tyler x Reader where Tyler is sick and the reader is taking care of him!! With cuddling pleaseeee I want to hold that man

Sick - Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Reader

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 1441

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!

It had been a rough morning for Tyler. I could tell from the moment he woke up that something was off. His usually bright, energetic personality had been replaced by a sluggish, congested mess. He tried to brush it off, insisting it was just a “little cold,” but I knew better. The way he sniffled every few minutes, the redness creeping across his nose, and the way he winced with every swallow told me this was more than that. I stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of chicken soup, occasionally glancing over at him sprawled out on the couch. Tyler had wrapped himself in a ridiculous amount of blankets, his head barely visible underneath the pile. He looked absolutely pitiful, and honestly, it was a little adorable. Normally, he was the strong one, always looking out for everyone else. But now, he was the one who needed taking care of.

“Y/N?” Tyler called out weakly from his blanket cocoon. His voice was rough, scratchy, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, babe?” I responded, pouring the soup into a bowl and grabbing a glass of water. I made my way to the living room, where he lay looking like a sad burrito. “What do you need?”

“I feel awful,” he mumbled, his eyes peeking out from beneath the blanket. His face was flushed, his hair a wild mess of dark curls sticking out in every direction. He was always a little disheveled, but today was on a whole new level.

“I know, sweetheart.” I set the bowl of soup on the coffee table and knelt beside him, brushing a few damp strands of hair off his forehead. His skin was burning up. “You’ve definitely got a fever. Let me get you some medicine.”

He made a face, wrinkling his nose like a kid who didn’t want to take his medicine. “It’s fine, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a look. “Tyler, you’re sick. You need to take something for the fever.”

He sighed, clearly not in the mood to argue, and nodded reluctantly. I kissed his warm forehead before heading to the kitchen cabinet, grabbing the cold medicine and pouring out a dose.

“Here,” I said, handing him the little cup of liquid. He took it with a groan and downed it in one quick swallow, grimacing like it was the worst thing in the world.

“That stuff is disgusting,” he muttered, rubbing his throat.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I know, but it’ll help. Now, come on, try to eat a little soup. You need something in your system.”

He sighed again but sat up slowly, pushing the blankets aside with a heavy groan. I quickly fluffed the pillows behind him and grabbed the soup from the table. “Here, let me help.”

Tyler took the bowl from my hands, lifting the spoon to his lips with a shaky hand. He managed a few small sips before setting the bowl back down with a tired sigh. I could tell he didn’t have much of an appetite.

“That’s okay,” I reassured him, taking the bowl away. “You don’t have to eat it all right now. Just get some rest.”

He leaned back into the pillows, his eyes already drooping as his body relaxed. “I hate being sick,” he muttered. “I feel useless.”

“Hey, you’re not useless,” I said firmly, sitting beside him and placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re allowed to feel sick, Tyler. Everyone gets sick, even you.”

He gave me a small, tired smile, though I could see the frustration in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being the one who needed help. He was always the strong one, the caretaker, and it clearly bothered him to be on the other side of things.

“Can you stay with me?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He sounded so small, so vulnerable, and it tugged at my heart in a way I hadn’t expected.

“Of course,” I said softly, moving to sit on the couch beside him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Tyler shifted slightly, making room for me to curl up next to him. He immediately nestled into me, his head resting on my chest as I wrapped my arms around him. His body was warm—too warm, thanks to the fever—but I didn’t mind. I just wanted him to feel safe, comforted.

“Better?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair, feeling the soft curls slip through my fingers.

He hummed in response, his face pressed against my chest. “You’re the best medicine.”

I smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I try.”

Tyler let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing further into mine as his breathing evened out. I could feel the tension in his muscles start to melt away, his weight settling against me more as he drifted closer to sleep. I stayed still, holding him, not wanting to disturb him. The room was quiet except for the sound of his soft breathing and the occasional sniffle.

As he slept, I ran my fingers gently through his hair, my other hand resting on his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. My mind wandered to how rare it was to see him like this—so vulnerable, so dependent on someone else. Usually, he was the one looking out for me, making sure I was okay. It felt good to be the one taking care of him for a change.

Time passed slowly, the soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. I could feel Tyler’s fever slowly starting to break, his skin cooling slightly under my touch. Every now and then, he would shift in his sleep, his arms tightening around me as if to make sure I was still there. Each time he stirred, I held him a little closer, letting him know I wasn’t going anywhere.

After what felt like hours, Tyler stirred again, his eyes fluttering open. He looked up at me, his expression groggy and confused, as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was.

“Hey,” I whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. “How’re you feeling?”

He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes. “A little better, I think,” he murmured, his voice still raspy. He coughed softly, wincing as he did. “How long was I out?”

“A couple of hours,” I said, glancing at the clock. “You needed the rest.”

He sighed, shifting to sit up a little more, though his movements were slow and deliberate, like he was still half-asleep. “I hate being sick. I feel like I’m just... wasting time.”

I shook my head, smiling at him. “Tyler, you’re not wasting time. You’re getting better. That’s the most important thing right now.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes soft and full of gratitude. “I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly, reaching for my hand and squeezing it gently.

I felt my heart swell at his words, but I shook my head. “You deserve everything, Ty. I’m just doing what you’d do for me.”

He smiled weakly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “Still... thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I love taking care of you.”

Tyler rested his head back on my chest, sighing contentedly as I held him close. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice soft and sleepy.

“I love you too,” I whispered back, my heart swelling with warmth.

For a while, we sat in comfortable silence, Tyler resting against me as I gently stroked his hair. His breathing slowly evened out again, his body relaxing as sleep started to claim him once more. I could feel the fever continuing to fade, his body no longer burning up against mine.

I stayed with him, holding him close, watching as the evening light outside turned into a soft golden glow. The room was quiet, peaceful, and for the first time all day, Tyler looked at ease.

As he drifted off, his breathing steady and calm, I found myself thinking about how much I cherished moments like this. It wasn’t about the grand gestures or the fancy dates—it was about these quiet, intimate moments, where we could just be together, taking care of each other. That was what love was, I realized. It was about being there for each other, no matter what.

And as I lay there, holding the love of my life in my arms, I knew I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

//

REQUESTS OPEN!

[dreamii-yume]

(Pretends that I haven’t been gone for over 8 months)

It is time to eat! 🗣🔥 I have returned! …And what did I miss? 🫡 Not much? Okay, that’s good lol

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Toge Inumaki (Jujutsu Kaisen)

♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Yandere | Non-Con/Dub-Con | Referring to Inumaki by His Last Name | Usage of “Senpai” Because I Don’t Know How to Translate Honorifics | Aged-Up Characters | Hurt/(No)Comfort | But It Ended Up Hurting Anyways | Female-Insert Reader | Cheating | NTR | Corruption Kink | A Subtle From of Mindbreak(?) | AU Where Shibuya Incident Never Happened | Reader is kinda menhera herself tbh

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“I’m sorry for not being there to accompany you with your mission, Inumaki-senpai.” Gentle hands ran down his somewhat swollen cheek, before the cold, yet delicate texture of a gauze replaces it and eases the sting. “Dr. Ieiri needed me for something, and it was a priority mission, so…”

“Salmon Roe.” Toge Inumaki replied, almost immediately—Holding out his hand to cut you off as if he already knew that you were about to go on a tangent. For the inexperienced, conversation without words are something of an impossible feat, but for the years that he was mentoring you, Inumaki has gotten confident of your understanding skills. It’s kind of learning process that most of his friends developed overtime, so he’s never worried that both of you would have some form of miscommunication anytime soon.

With that said, you sighed in relief at his innocent gesture. “…Alright, then please allow me to at least use my curse technique on you.” You suggested, but the moment Inumaki felt your cursed energy spiked in an incredible amount, he knew he didn’t have a choice anyway. Not only because it was your job, but he never planned to refuse your technique if you give him a chance to experience it. Just from this close distance alone, he could practically melt at the feeling—Like a warm fire in a winter night, gently embracing his body in a comforting manner.

“…Salmon.”

Rejuvenation as they call it…An innate cursed technique that you’ve developed while you were studying with him at Jujutsu Tokyo High. It’s not much when it comes to combat, since its only special feature is, as the name suggest, rejuvenation—The power to replenish the user’s body of lost cursed energy, and ultimately cutting back whatever physical consequences of the user’s cursed technique is. It was a shame that by Jujutsu regulations, it was considered a “cursed” technique like everyone else’s when in truth, it can very well be compared to a blessing in disguise for people like him.

Call it a senior’s pride or something like that, but Inumaki thoroughly believed that you’ve naturally developed a technique that he can greatly appreciate because he was the one who raised you better as a sorcerer than your own teacher ever did.

To think that you were but an ordinary civilian when you came in here felt like a fever dream. No relations to curses, sorcerers, or anything—Just a rare case of a normal person possessing a higher cursed energy than most people that they were able to see curses from a very young age. You were a chick fresh out of the egg when you arrived, an outsider to the world of Jujutsu, and Inumaki back then just found himself teaching you on a whim.

He loves watching you use your curse technique a lot more than he could ever admit—The control you have on your breathing, heart rate, and flow of curse energy was spectacular. You always make sure that you won’t hurt yourself in the process by giving too much, but at the same time, you knew exactly how much a current person needs for a complete rejuvenation. His favorite part had always been when you’re done, the way your eyes would snap back into your normal cheerful self after being in a trance like nothing happened. It never fails to make him smile.

”…Well, do you feel a lot better? Is there anything else I could help you with?” Your voice quickly got Inumaki back on high alert as he was in a trance himself. He just couldn’t help it sometimes; he could feel your cursed energy flowing in him in just the right amount that it was way too comfortable to just ignore.

Inumaki tilts his neck in a snap, feeling a satisfying crack from each side before giving you a thumbs up. “Pollock Roe.” He said with confidence to mask the embarrassment he feels inside. He would never say it straight to your face, but as someone who receives this treatment from you a lot, it’s not much of an exaggeration to say that he was addicted to the feeling. He’s a bit…sensitive on how you will react to this information, so he’ll keep it to himself for now.

“Well, that’s great then~!” You said, as he felt your observant eyes on him again—Constantly looking for any injury you might’ve missed, but your work was as flawless as ever. “At this point, please just get plenty of rest as always. If you notice anything else that feels wrong, please refer to Dr. Ieiri as soon as possible.”

Inumaki couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the way you speak during work mode, it’s professional but it just wasn’t the normal cheeky junior he knew. So, with a mischievous look on his face, Inumaki pulled on your cheek slightly with judging eyes. “Mustard Leaf~?” He teased as you flinched at the contact.

“Ow, ow!” You exclaimed, yelping like a kicked animal until Inumaki let go eventually. In an instant, you pouted and rubbed on your slightly reddened cheek. “W-What was that for, seriously…!?”

Inumaki only pointed at you nonchalantly with two fingers. “Tuna, Tuna.” He stuck out his tongue which only puts an irritated vein on your forehead—But somehow, you knew what he was trying to say.

Instead of snapping like how you originally planned, you sighed. “I know, I know…” You said, eventually smiling in defeat. “But it’s work, you know? I have to be prim and proper when it comes to work.”

Inumaki hummed, eyes glancing to the side as if he hadn’t learned his lessons at all—In fact, he just wanted to catch your attention, that’s all. “…And you should be careful around your own work too!” Then came in you scolding him in the end. “Please stop rupturing your vocal cords every time you go on missions! I am not treating you next time, do you hear!?”

“Salmon Roe~” He heard what you said, but it was like the words go through one ear and escaped to the other—He didn’t have any intention of listening to your advice at all. If rupturing his vocal cords was the minimum requirement to come visit you again, then so be it…Besides, he knows you’re lying anyways. He just can’t see you refusing service to anyone who’s in need of help, what more of it if it was him?

“Ugh, why do I feel like you’re not taking me seriously at all…?” You grumbled under your breath but ending up shaking your head anyways. Eventually though, you smiled in a silly manner, just what Inumaki was hoping for. “No, whatever…Just have a good day, Senpai.”

Hearing that, Inumaki finally gave you his famous close-eyed smile to show his excitement. “Salmon~!” He replied enthusiastically after seeing that familiar attitude of yours for the day and quickly pat your head. You giggled as he hopped off the bed, raising his hand slightly to wave at you as he headed out for the door. “…Kelp.”

With one last smile, you waved back at him before going back to your desk, probably checking for the mission you’re assigned to next.

Honestly, for someone who came from humble beginnings, you were making quite the name for yourself as a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world. Non-combatant cursed techniques are rare as it is, and for someone to have one that defies the very definition of a curse and turning it into something of a blessing—It’s no wonder you are highly valued by the higher-ups. It’s hard to imagine that just a few years ago, you were someone relatively unknown and though you did had some help from the teachers like all other students, you still had to teach yourself on how to differentiate between what is a curse and what is not.

Regardless, Inumaki can freely shrug about it now—He was glad you developed a technique that was beneficial to him, and that’s all it matters. You were good friends, on top of being senior and junior back in school, so your relationship with him was undoubtedly better than the rest. Maybe he’s a bit boastful about it, because who wouldn’t want to come home from a long and exhausting mission, only to lay down and be doted on by your cursed technique?

The feeling of a sore throat has been something of a wild fantasy to him ever since you mastered your craft, so what else was there to complain about?

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Hornii?

This Sinfic was in one of my WIPs folder (Yes, I have a folder full of unfinished Sinfics and ideas ☠️ I’m a loser) and I had to travel back to the memory lane on what kind of plot I was trying to cook 8 months ago 😭

I think my goal was to write a  Sinfic is that proves that dialogue is not at all needed when it comes to fucked-up love ♥︎

[abysswalkersknight]

Finally finished one of my WIPs! It's been sitting in my drafts for a while so I just spiffed it up a bit.

Basically I starting writing this after seeing a scary mystery movie and a perfectly normal debate with a relative whether it's scarier to be poisoned or unknowingly ingest glass. We're still debating on that, otherwise enjoy!

..............

‘Hmm? Is something amiss Silver?’ inquired Malleus. They were at their usual table in the cafeteria, while he, Lilia and Sebek were already seated with their food, Silver took a bit longer than usual, though glancing at his rumpled hair and drowsier expression seemed to explain his absence well enough. While it was, of course, troubling that Silver had a sleep spell during lunch, Malleus was more concerned about the pitiful amount of food on his charge’s plate ‘are you perhaps feeling ill?’ he says, briefly touching his fingers to the boy’s forehead to check for fever. Silver must’ve still been waking up because all of a sudden he startled violently at the prince’s gentle touch ‘oh, uh, not at all my lord…’ Silver looks down. ‘ah, I don’t remember grabbing this, I must have fallen asleep while standing in line.’

In the background Sebek began to berate Silver for his carelessness though the boy was not at all paying any attention to him while Lilia quietly slid his son a perfectly warm coffee he got earlier. 

‘My, so even in his sleep Silver still drifts towards mushroom risotto.’ marveled the ageing fae, he urges Silver to drink the coffee and smiles as his boy slowly perks up, however Malleus still frowns  ‘are you not going to grab more Silver? You must be famished from all the training you’ve done earlier.’ he says, tapping Silver’s meagre plate for emphasis. His retainer glances back to the endless line and sheepishly averts his gaze ‘it’s alright my lord, I’m not that hungry anyways so I can just eat something after classes’ he quickly murmurs, taking up his fork, but his other guardian was not finished ‘nonsense Silver, one cannot focus on an empty stomach. And from what I recall it will be three hours until both your classes and club activities finish. If you’d like, I'm quite happy to share my food.’ Silver began to fidget slightly at his prince’s persistence ‘no no my lord I couldn’t possibly-’ lifting an eyebrow Malleus could already sense a polite refusal coming so, he politely ignores Silver’s fervent protests and pinches both edges of their plates and quickly switches them, Silver’s plate now had a significantly larger portion of mushroom risotto. Silver sputtered with his hand hovering midair, unsure whether to risk retrieving his original plate or not ‘go on, eat Silver. If you’re unable to eat it all then I’ll simply finish the rest myself.’ Malleus coaxes with a swift bite of risotto. 

Silver sighed fondly, throughout his life the only times his prince paid any attention to the clock were the child’s meal times where the dragon fae would make sure that his charge has had at least three proper meals a day and he’d continuously fuss over Silver like a mother bear if he’d found that the human’s meals were “lacking”. 

‘Oh he was so much worse when you were a wee little babe.’ Lilia would gush whenever Silver mentioned this habit to him ‘back then Malleus would never take his eyes off the clock at home until the time came to feed you, oh he was so worried that he’d forget the time and accidentally let you starve’ then Lilia put a finger to his chin in thought ‘though I suppose his worry may have stirred from that parenting book I lent him that one time. It’s probably become a bit of a habit now but still it warms this old man’s heart to see my boys caring for each other!’ 

While the notion itself was greatly appreciated, there were times where it embarrassed poor Silver when the other students and staff witnesses Lilia’s fatherly doting or whenever Malleus scoops some of his portion onto Silver’s whenever he thought the human wasn’t eating enough, even now the fae flicks a graceful eye to the untouched plate, almost daring the human to go hungry.

Shaking his head, Silver carefully hides his smile and begins to eat.

All was well while they ate, Silver watched contently as his fae guardians conversed with each other and Sebek snapped and tore through his fifth helping of risotto, Silver was worried that he might bite through his fork and wonders if it would help if he caught something for dinner later, Sebek was always mentioning about how hungry he was so perhaps some extra meat would temporarily quell his friend’s voracious appetite.  

Lilia was joyously teasing the prince about his lack of punctuality when Silver felt it, there was something strange about the risotto’s texture. As he chewed slowly Silver found an odd chunk of something hidden within the food, rolling it along his tongue he felt how it crumbled between his teeth though he soon came to believe that it was probably just a particularly large piece of mushroom so he shrugged it off.

Some of these mushrooms are rather big, he thought to himself questioningly as a different mushroom piece suddenly lodges itself somewhere in his throat, Lilia, Malleus and Sebek quickly turn to him as he roughly beats his fist against his chest whilst coughing dryly ‘my, you must have been quite hungry, my dear Silver’ chirped Lilia as he came over and thwacked his son firmly on the back. 

‘No-no…s’not…that’ Silver wheezes, his terror rose as he suddenly bent over and braced one elbow on the table while the other clutched desperately at his neck, everyone else began to panic when Silver’s coughs take on a retching tone, each gasp convulsing his whole body. Immediately Lilia’s hands coiled around the boy’s waist and practically heaved Silver off the floor with every thrust he made, at the third though Lilia had to stop when Silver gave a particularly harsh gag. Everything seemed to pause as a dark scarlet colour splattered all over the pearly white plates and shiny wooden table, gleaming like precious rubies on display.

Everyone broke out of their shocked daze when Silver whined painfully, his ungloved hand reaching into his mouth, trying to grasp at something but his fingers shook terribly and kept slipping. Both Lilia and Malleus cry out, the latter quickly held the boy up gently by the shoulders while the former pries his son’s trembling hand away and replaced it with his own ‘shh, shh, it’s alright Silver, it’s alright, Papa’s here…’ Lilia coos softly, trying to soothe his panicking child while trying to ignore the blood that slicks his nimble fingers, making it difficult to grip anything… Ah ha! There! As light as a feather Lilia took hold of something rock solid and gently, he tugged on it, taking great care to avoid hurting his boy even more. Slowly but surely something was coming out, blood thickly spewed out before revealing a distorted clear piece of glass pinched between Lilia’s fingers, small enough to remain hidden but big enough to potentially tear up a throat’s insides. Malleus stares at the glass with a look of outraged disbelief, who would dare-!

‘My liege!’ Both fae quickly turn at Sebek’s cry. The knight had searched through Silver’s risotto and has dug out three more pieces of glass of similar sizes to the one lilia had just pulled out, Sebek looks at Silver worriedly and promptly rushes to his side when the human whimpers and gasps out more blood ‘quickly! Help me take him to the infirmary!’ lilia barks, hoisting Silver up by one side and Sebek soon taking the other. In the rush Malleus was left behind with the staff on duty to control the excited crowd, he hadn’t wanted to of course, he had to be at Silver’s side, making sure that he was being properly treated, to think that there was someone within the school who had the absolute gall to do something so despicable to someone under his care, to target Silver- wait.

He thought back to the beginning of lunch, to his and Silver’s plates… They weren’t going after his retainer, they were targeting Malleus. His fists clenched, so hard that he felt some seams in his gloves tear. When I get my hands on whoever’s done this-

He had only wanted to make sure that his charge was well fed, but in his folly all he did was unknowingly feed Silver a plate filled with tampered food, and now this has happened. Glass in their food would have only been a minor inconvenience to fae like Lilia and Malleus, as was possibly the perpetrators prior intentions, but clearly the same cannot be said for humans, as was seen with Silver. For that alone I will slowly tear them apart, he thought dangerously, tis only right, they have hurt what is mine and as crown prince of Briar Valley it is my duty to put them in their place. But first, he must attend to Silver who should be in the infirmary by now… Malleus can only hope that his charge won’t suffer any long lasting ailments due to this. With that thought in mind, the dragon prince disappears in a flurry of green lights.

By the time he arrived Silver was fast asleep in one of the few infirmary cots, his parted mouth emitting weak wheezy breaths. Lilia sat at the head, tenderly stroking his boy’s soft locks ‘the nurse said he should be fine’ the old fae says without glancing up, moving closer something in Malleus’s chest tightens when he finds little splotches of dried red in the corner of Silver’s pale mouth ‘how bad was it?’ he murmurs, bending down to caress Silver’s cheek, the boy showed no signs of stirring. Lilia hummed and gestured to a tray on the other side of the cot, on top was a smaller, cruel looking piece of glass ‘apparently that bit must have broken off the one I pulled out’ he mumbled looking at his now gloveless hand, his eyes flick back to Malleus ‘let me guess. You have come to the same conclusion as I?’ it was not a question ‘good, then it is alright to ask that you remain here with Sebek at Silver’s side while I go handle this.’

Malleus blanched, what? No! He won't have Lilia do this alone! It was unbecoming of the prince to back down from such a blatant challenge. But just as he was about to protest, his guardian pinned him down with the general’s sharp gaze ‘no Malleus, while I’m well aware of your power, remember that this was an attack staged against you, little Silver simply had the misfortune to be the recipient of it, and we don’t want any unfortunate incidents happening as well, do we?’ he grins maliciously, it was then Malleus recalled just who he was speaking with, he may have changed immensely over the centuries but this was still Lilia Vanrouge, general of the right and one of the most feared fae out there. And someone had just signed their death sentence the moment that glass was placed, not only had they targeted his first child and prince of Briar Valley, they had even wounded his second child with such a callous method and now here he was resting in an infirmary with a torn up throat, how could Lilia ever let something like this slide without punishment.

Even better they have made an attempt on Malleus’s well being, Lilia thought his talons twitching with unbridled bloodlust, that means I can go all out as his guard.

I hope the staff catch them quickly.

His grin widens.

Otherwise I’m going to have some fun.

[meiyudo]

Enigma// ch 23

anakin x reader

A/N: So ani is a lil uncharacteristically emotional in this one, but it's because he’s going through withdrawal which takes a heavy toll not only physically but emotionally too. Also this chapter mentions the fourth of July (sorry to my readers who don’t live in the USA) . I just thought the holiday would be a good plot point for this specific iderration of Anakin, I do not mean to use the holiday politically AT ALL!!! Anyways, with all of that out of the way- I hope you all enjoy it!!

The fourth of july came at a bad time

warnings: cursing, alcohol abuse, alcohol withdrawal , self hatred, depressive thoughts, throw up, basically ani is just miserable, ptsd

______________________________

Things had been going as well as they could regarding his liver- but the biggest problem at the moment was the withdrawal of alcohol.

Last time he subsided with his drinking, he had time to wean himself off slowly- but now he couldn’t because any amount of alcohol could be fatal to his condition. 

The past few nights had been restless for him- cold sweats, headaches, nausea, and he was just generally miserable. 

Last night wasn't much different, he was pretty miserable, curled up on his side trying to ignore the pains in his stomach- it took him forever to get comfortable and when he finally did, he only got about an hour of sleep before he woke up shaking and disoriented. 

You rushed to his bedside to find he was running a fever (a normal symptom of alcohol withdrawal); instead of freaking out you sat by him trying your best to soothe him while also bringing down his temperature. 

Later on he emptied the contents of his stomach into a trash bin you brought for him and finally fell asleep.

You weren’t so sure tonight would be any better, he had been acting squirrely all day and seemed kind of in a haze. 

He skipped dinner because he felt like if he ate anything it would just come back up. So the two of you sat on the couch with a program about different species of the Amazon playing in the background; not that either of you were actually paying attention to that. 

You were worried about Anakin, how much longer was this routine going to be sustainable for him?

Outside the distinct pew of a firework being sent up into the night sky could be heard before it made a “bang”.

You Jumped at the loud noise, you never were really a fan of fireworks. But why were they going off tonight…?

Oh fuck. Today was the 4th- there would be fireworks going on all night. 

You looked over your phone to see Anakin’s wide blue eyes and distant stare. Another one went off and you observed as he flinched at the initial ascent and closed his eyes and tensed as it exploded. 

You didn’t need to ask why he was so jumpy… the fireworks sounded eerily reminiscent of the explosives he was accustomed to hearing on the battlefield. 

Anakin’s PTSD was not something that came up often- he didn’t really like to talk about it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have it. 

“Ani, do you wanna change the channel to something a little louder? It might drown out the sounds outside” you offered after you noticed him shaking under his blanket.

Half of you expected him to be peeved that you insinuated he wasn't ok, but to your surprise he looked towards you with wide eyes, 

“Could you come sit with me?” he asked in a small voice. 

“Of course” 

His blue eyes watched as you took a seat beside him; as soon as you were sat, one of his bionic arms pulled you gently in by the waist. Once you were close enough you leaned over to peck him on the cheek before turning the volume on the TV on.

Anxiously you watched the clock, it was nearing midnight and you knew that would be the worst.

A sharp inhale diverted your attention from the screen in front of you to the man beside you. His eyes were clenched shut and he gripped his side. 

“Anakin, what’s wrong?” you asked anxiously. 

“Nothing, it’s just…my side hurts” he groaned.

The doctor said that was normal for someone with liver issues but it still hurt to see him struggling. 

“Would you like me to hold-”

He nodded his head and you scooted closer to him; as of now it wasn’t clear what the two of you were in your relationship, but you did want to be there for him.

Soon he was lying across your lap and held tightly onto your hand that draped over his side. Your free hand was gently running over his side and occasionally brushing against the side of his face. 

It was evident that he was shaking in your hold; unfortunately there wasn’t much you could do to aid his condition, so you offered all you could.

The clock in the corner chimed and your eyes widened, it was 12- well, almost; the clock was about two minutes fast, but that just meant the majority of the fireworks would be going off in no time. 

“Ani, do you wanna sit up for me?” you asked, lightly patting his side. 

“S-sure”

Now the two of you were sitting face to face, holding hands. The first of many colorful explosives fired into the night sky- the initial ascent made Anakin flinch in your arms, but he still tried to focus on you; your soft skin, the faint blush on your cheeks, the growing bump of your stomach…

Another twinge of pain plagued his side at the same moment a loud bang interrupted his internal commentary and he yelped. You quickly drew him into a tight embrace and rubbed his strong back.

His cries had subsided but he was still quivering a little; it was painful to see him in such a state. 

At first you said nothing then you soon subconsciously began humming a soft tune; a song your mother used to sing to comfort you when you were distressed.

You hadn’t heard that song in ages, but here you were- doing your best to comfort a man in need. 

____________

Anakin was still trying to drown out the noises outside with thoughts of his own, but no matter how hard he tried- his mind kept teleporting him to the fucking battlefield he left so many years ago.

The cacophony of bullets and choppers slicing through the sky. The melody of screaming and detonated bombs... The symphony of war. 

He hated it there.

Usually he was able to stay far far away from that place, but sometimes he just couldn’t fight the darkness cruelly pulling him back in. 

But this time he heard something else, a new chord to the song.

It was nothing harsh or dangerous, instead it was soft and smooth- it felt safe. 

His eyes moved rapidly under his closed lids, searching for the origin of the sound, until he was pulled from his personal hell and opened his eyes again.

With a deep breath he took in his surroundings; he was on his couch (ok, it was still the 4th). He registered that you were hugging him tightly and…

Singing.

The voice, the light at the end of the tunnel, his safe place- was you. 

He closed his eyes once more but this time was not in anguish, rather in pure adoration. He wanted to focus solely on your voice and forget everything else- in this moment you were the only thing that mattered. 

_____________

Before you knew it the familiar melody came to an end and you finished your song; it felt so natural you barely realized you had started singing. 

You smiled as you felt Anakin relax in your arms; the worst was finally over.

He nuzzled further into your embrace and you felt the motion of his brows furrowing against your chest. You brushed his locks and wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead. 

Another straggler firework went off and he cringed once more; you continued to softly comfort him.

Though, as much as he loved your embrace, he wanted to see your face. So he raised himself up to gazed upon you; on your messy hair, your eye bags, your endearing smile…

You were radiant. 

“Thank you, y/n” he said.

You smiled and peppered his flushed face with kisses, “of course, Ani”.

After you pulled away, his blue eyes still lingered on you.

“You are so beautiful”.

You smiled; no matter the state he was in, Anakin would be there to remind you of your beauty. Even if you woke up feeling like you looked terrible, he would quell your worries. 

“Thank you Ani, so are you” you delivered another soft kiss to his temple before straightening your back against the couch. 

It seemed that the majority of the fireworks were done (finally). Anakin was able to relax his muscles and sit comfortably beside you. 

The TV was still playing the nature channel; the show changed to one about baby animals in different habitats. Instead of going back to your phone, you watched as the screen flashed clips of fluffy seal pups and tiny polar bear cubs. 

“You like polar bears, right?” Anakin asked.

“Yea, I think they’re pretty cool. They’re Apex predators yet so cute” you smiled.

He smiled at your response.

“Do you like ‘em?” you returned his question.

“Mhmm, I was stationed in Alaska for a few months when I first joined the military and I became friends with this guy who ran a bear sanctuary. He had one polar bear and she was an absolute sweetheart” Anakin reminisced. 

Your eyes lit up; Anakin had so many great memories and experiences.

“That’s amazing! I would love to see one in real life. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get the chance though, because we’re driving them to extinction.” you frowned.

“If we had the time, I would’ve taken you up there to see her. My friend still runs the sanctuary” Anakin replied.

If we had time…

Another disappointing reminder that no time was guaranteed; you would have loved to do that with Anakin….You would have loved to do a lot of things with Anakin…

With a sad smile, you responded, “That’s very sweet Ani… but who’s to say we won't go someday?”.

His cerulean blue eyes gave you a knowing look before responding, “I guess you’re right”.

You were about to respond to him when you felt an odd sensation in your lower abdomen;

“Oh!” you exclaimed and you grabbed onto the arm of the couch to steady yourself. 

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Anakin asked without hesitation. 

The sensation came again and you placed a hand on your stomach, “Yea, I’m ok Ani”.

“Is it the baby?” he asked worriedly. 

“I think so; it’s kicking” you said, calming his already high strung nerves. 

You turned towards him with an endearing look, “Would you like to feel?”.

His eyes lit up when he processed your question and he sat up straight; he looked as excited as a kid who just got told they would be going to disney world. 

“Please?” he asked.

“Of course,” you smiled. 

You turned your body towards him so he could have a better angle to feel.

“Could you help me-” he asked as he offered one of his arms. 

How could you forget?

With his arms on he wouldn’t be able to directly feel the baby; gently you took the bionic arm in your hands and broke the suction seal, allowing him to pull his stump out. 

You placed the arm beside you on the couch and turned towards Anakin once more. 

He was examining his arm (just a small habit he had) and you laid back into the cushions. He gazed upon you with such adoration. You could tell how much he loved you- how much he meant his apologies…

“Ani, give me your arm” you asked, to which he darted his eyes towards yours. 

“It’s alright, I can just-”

“Please?” you asked. 

Even after all of your time together he still got self conscious sometimes- honesty his insecurities came in random waves and apparently, now, was just one of those times. 

He sighed and offered you his arm; you wrapped your hand around his tender skin, eliciting a small gasp from him (your touch still gave him butterflies).

You slowly guided him to your stomach and pulled up your shirt; the bump was very noticeable now. 

You placed his soft stump against your belly and laid your hands on top of him. You sighed at his touch, you hadn’t felt him so intimately in a long time. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he had his eyes closed; his brows were drawn in concentration and his plump lips were slightly parted. 

Once the baby kicked again his eyes shot open, he leaned forward and placed his prosthetic hand against your stomach too. 

“It’s amazing”

You giggled at his wonder. 

“That’s…” he began.

“Our baby” you finished; gazing into his water eyes as he turned towards you. 

Today had already been an emotionally draining day, but he still had a few tears left to shed.

“Oh, Ani. It’s alright” you sighed when you saw trails down his cheeks. 

Before you could sit all the way up, he gathered you into a warm embrace and laid gently atop of your chest (careful not to bump your belly). 

You ran your fingers through his hair as he continued to hold you as tightly as he could. 

You knew he wasn’t the best with words, but his actions were telling you everything you needed to know. 

“Thank you” he said against your neck.

You drew your brows together, you didn't expect him to say anything. 

“Thank you for staying”

“I know I’m far from perfect and I got shit I gotta sort out… but it means so much to me that you believed in me enough to stay… and to sharing our baby with me” his voice began to waver. 

“...just thank you for everything”

Anakin didn’t need to thank you, his actions were enough to tell you how grateful he was, but the fact that he did vocalize his feelings just meant the world to you. 

He was trying.

You held his head closer to you and kissed his hair.

“I love you” he whispered softly. 

Your heart fluttered because deep inside you knew you still did too. 

***

a/n: getting out of angst??? also i added the polar bear hit cause i was just thinking abt them and was like- “ig i’ll put it in the fic” lmfaooo

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

[carrionhearted]

i need to watch more horror movies so please drop your favourites 🙏🙏

GLADLY!!!! These are in no particular order, or category… just a list of horror (& adjacent) films that feel special to me. Some of these are genuine works of art, and others are just campy fun. Some of them are flaming garbage. Have fun figuring out which are which!

- House of 1000 Corpses (& sequels: The Devil’s Rejects, Three from hell) (Ho1000C is just a blast, campy and vibrant and fun— while the sequels are a lot more grounded and gritty in tone. The characters really make this franchise. Rob Zombie is great at writing hate-lovable bastards.)

- Eraserhead (a fever-dream-nightmare perfectly translated into film. Surrealist imagery that will permanently etch itself into your grey matter. I hope you like long shots and ambient droning sounds! I love films you have to decode in order to understand.)

- Donnie Darko (more ‘psychological thriller’ than ‘horror’, but god I love this film. If you like unreliable narrators and themes of unreality, blurred lines between the supernatural and psychosis… watch Donnie Darko.)

- I Saw The TV Glow (made me ugly cry until I threw up and gave me a headache so bad I couldn’t sleep afterwards. VERY effective psychological horror if you struggle with identity and dissociation/ dpdr. Like, dangerously effective.)

- Pearl (standout fav of this trilogy, though X and MaXXXine are also great. I am in love with Pearl as a character. Insane writing, insane acting, and it’s shot so well… ooghsgdh I love this film…)

- The Lighthouse (Damn ye! Let Neptune strike ye dead Winslow! HAAARK! Hark Triton, hark! Bellow, bid our father the Sea King rise from the depths full foul in his fury! Black waves teeming with salt foam to smother this young mouth with pungent slime, to choke ye, engorging your organs til' ye turn blue and bloated with bilge and brine and can scream no more - only when he, crowned in cockle shells with slitherin' tentacle tail and steaming beard take up his fell be-finned arm, his coral-tine trident screeches banshee-like in the tempest and plunges right through yer gullet, bursting ye - a bulging bladder no more, but a blasted bloody film now and nothing for the harpies and the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon only to be lapped up and swallowed by the infinite waters of the Dread Emperor himself - forgotten to any man, to any time, forgotten to any god or devil, forgotten even to the sea, for any stuff for part of Winslow, even any scantling of your soul is Winslow no more, but is now itself the sea!)

-Carrie (the original is, of course, the best… but the 2013 iteration is also surprisingly good. She is so normal girl don’t worry about it)

- Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (SPECIFICALLY 2, but watch the first one also) (Bill Moseley as Chop Top… Oingo Boingo on the soundtrack… sexual tension with the chainsaw… the dinner scene… Leatherface <3… it has it all…)

- Society (Do not go into this expecting a good solid film. Go into it expecting to have a very confusing, VERY FUN time. One million bonus points for The Shunting.)

- Sleepaway Camp (another campy cult classic. The most wtf acting, wtf dialogue, wtf line delivery, WTF AMOUNT OF MEN IN BOOTY SHORTS, wtf kills and wtf ending. Also diversity win!)

- Slither (now that’s what I can body horror! This film is outrageous it’s insane it’s… goopy… lots of slugs. Great mix of horror and comedy imo)

- Ready Or Not (a “death game” premise with an almost cartoonish quality? The characters are all… all such characters, they did great fleshing out a large-ish cast. They did a great job in general. Also funny. Also WICKED set design.)

- Hereditary (a predictable answer, but I think it earns the praise. It’s uniquely effective at being… horrifying, as a horror film. The sense of dread in this film is something special.)

- Silence of the Lambs (another obligatory mention. It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.)

- Terrifier, 1 2 and 3! (obligatory Terrifier franchise mention. Art the Clown is just a silly little guy. God forbid a clown have hobbies.)

[twisted-sickfics]

Hazy

Something’s wrong and he’s hoping it’s not what he’s thinking it is.

Asmodeus is out on an important meeting (but honestly, Fizzarolli thinks everything Asmodeus does is important) and he won’t be back until later that day. The last thing Fizz would want to do is call him and ruin the meeting. Besides, his stomach is just a little bit upset. He’ll be fine.

It must be something he ate. He doesn’t exactly have the best diet, so that’s very possible. But something about the way his head is starting to feel fuzzy is making him think otherwise.

Worrying about it isn’t doing any good, if anything it’s only making his stomach more upset, but he’s all alone with just his thoughts. What else is he supposed to do?

Lying in bed, he thinks about Ozzie’s strong arms carrying him, his smooth voice soothing the mounting pressure in Fizz’s head. All he wants right now is to be held in his arms so he doesn’t have to worry about a thing. The only time he’s ever felt truly safe is with Asmodeus.

Even then, Fizz isn’t sure he deserves that.

Not only did the fire leave him with a myriad of health issues, some that were resolved within months and some that affect him to this day, but it also damaged his view of himself. The fear, the panic, the insecurity. All of that, he carries with him to this day, made worse by his deal with Mammon.

Admitting weakness is not something Fizz is accustomed to. Not only is he constantly putting on a figurative mask in front of all of Hell and therefore has to be the best version of himself at all times, but the pressure he puts on himself to be perfect is another issue entirely. Asmodeus has told him to his face that it isn’t healthy, but it’s so ingrained in him that he doesn’t know how to stop.

Even in times like these where Fizz should probably definitely be getting some help right now, he doesn’t know if he has it in him to admit just how badly he’s feeling. What would the world think if they saw him like this? What would Asmodeus think?

He’d probably be completely disgusted. He would never want to touch Fizz again if he saw the state he’s in now, sweaty with a slightly ashen complexion.

Earlier this morning, Fizz tried his best to start the day like normal. He got his costume on and began putting on his makeup when he was overcome with a wave of nausea that made him stop in his tracks. He covered his mouth, meekly hoping he wouldn’t vomit on the spot, but thankfully that feeling passed as soon as it came. Strange.

It was when he began practicing his routines that he began to feel worse and worse. He started growing shaky and unusually tired even though he had gotten a surprisingly good amount of sleep the night before. Then, the cold sweats began, followed by the chills that crawl up his spine like spiders.

The nausea was the worst. Every time he thought he was in the clear, it would creep up on him again and leave him nearly gagging but never enough to actually vomit. It was terrible.

Practicing made everything worse. Right after he finished, his stomach began to churn ominously. “Please don’t throw up, please don’t throw up,” he silently begged.

But it was no use. With a gag, he could feel bile pooling in his throat. Fuck, he thought to himself, I need to get to the bathroom. He barely managed to make it in time to vomit right into the sink, clutching onto the sides to stabilize himself.

Fizzarolli retched again, the effort hurting his already-sore throat in the process, bringing up even more stomach acid. Part of him wished Asmodeus were here to offer soothing words and comforting rubs on the back, but another part fears he would be disgusted and never want anything to do with him ever again.

He looked at himself in the mirror and winced at the sight of his pale face with fever-flushed cheeks. He looked absolutely terrible. How could Asmodeus ever love him when he looks like this? How could the embodiment of lust itself ever want him?

And now, Fizzarolli lay in his bed, having thrown up at least three times now (that he can remember through the haze of his fever). The last time was mostly just bile at that point, his body having nothing left in it yet remaining intent on expelling every last bit.

He managed to drink some water, but even that feels like it’s about to come up again at any moment if the uneasy way it’s settling in his stomach is anything to go by.

Yeah, no, it’s definitely coming up again.

Fizz covers his mouth with a hand as he silently gags, trying to get himself out of bed in time to make it to the toilet for the millionth time that day (or at least it feels like it). His stomach is killing him.

He’s puking up the small amount of water he drank earlier when he hears the front door open and his heart stops in his chest. That must be Ozzie. But he can’t be here! Not when Fizz is like this! He has to lock the door or go back to the bedroom or something—

The anxiety makes his stomach cramp and he’s sent retching over the toilet once again. That’s when the bathroom door opens and a deep voice asks, “Fizzy, are you okay?”

The voice sounds concerned, caring almost. He knows it’s Asmodeus’, but it can’t be. He should be disgusted with him, ashamed that his best performer isn’t performing up to par. He should throw him away, not place a gentle hand on his back. Not break off a piece of toilet paper to wipe around his mouth. Not be concerned about whether he’s okay.

“I-I’m fine,” Fizzarolli tries to say as convincingly as possible, though that backfires when his voice cracks from how sore his throat is. “I just…must’ve eaten something bad. I’m really sorry, Ozzie.”

“There’s no need to apologize, my dear,” Asmodeus says with that charming voice of his. For a moment, it makes him feel cared about. “It’s obvious you aren’t feeling well. Tell me, how many times have you gotten sick today?”

Fizzarolli winces because he knows Asmodeus won’t like the answer, but he responds nonetheless with, “I think this is the fourth time.” His face feels hot and he isn’t sure if that’s just from the fever anymore.

Asmodeus makes a disappointed noise that almost brings tears to Fizz’s eyes. Of course he would be disappointed in him. After the first time, he should have gotten it under control. If he was really strong, there wouldn’t have even been a first time. “Have you had anything to eat or drink? Anything at all?”

He sounds hopeful and Fizzarolli doesn’t want to destroy that hope, so he responds, “I drank a little bit of water earlier, but…” It’s self-explanatory, so he doesn’t feel the need to spell it out for him. “I’m sorry.”

“What did I say about apologizing?” Asmodeus asks. “I’m glad you tried to drink some water, at least. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Asmodeus’ strong arms wrap around him and he allows himself to relax for a moment, just thinking about how much he loves his partner. Neither of them have said the big “L-word” yet, but Fizz knows he feels love for Ozzie whether the sin of lust reciprocates it or not. Just thinking about confessing makes his stomach hurt, so he chooses not to dwell too much on it.

Asmodeus lies him down on the bed and places a cool towel on his forehead. “This should help with your fever,” he says, which confirms Fizz’s suspicion about having a temperature. That also confirms that he’s sick and it’s not just something he ate, which strangely makes him feel worse. Being sick means recovering, and recovering means not being perfect.

“How’re you feeling?” the man asks, which snaps Fizzarolli out of it. “If there’s anything I can do to help you feel better, please let me know. I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.” He plants a kiss on Fizz’s too-hot forehead, which makes him blush even through the fever.

“I’m okay,” Fizzarolli says, which is mostly true. He’s not in any pain at the moment besides a dull throbbing in both his stomach and his head, for which he considers himself lucky. “I’m just…really tired.” He tries to hold back a yawn, but he doesn’t succeed.

“How about you get some rest then, hm?” Asmodeus asks, though he already begins making the room more suitable for taking a nap. “I wish I could stay longer, but I have some work I need to finish up before tomorrow. Do you think you’ll be alright on your own?”

Fizzarolli doesn’t really think so, but he nods anyway, humming affirmatively. “You go, I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t know exactly how true that statement is, but he doesn’t want to hold Ozzie back from his work, especially if it’s something important enough to warrant a deadline. He’ll just try to sleep it off.

“Good,” Asmodeus says, kissing his too-hot forehead. “I’ll be finished by the time you wake up, I promise.” He turns the lights off, wishes him a good rest, and leaves.

Fizz is able to drift off into a restless sleep, one that has him tossing and turning, questioning what parts are real and what are his fever-muddled mind’s way of torturing him. He’s too hot, way too hot, and it’s all too familiar.

He first feels the smoke entering his lungs, followed by the flames licking every surface of his body. It’s hot, way too hot, and he needs to get out—

Waking with a start, Fizzarolli struggles to catch his breath as he takes in his surroundings. It’s his and Asmodeus’ bedroom, the familiar scent of the sheets grounding him. He almost forgets the way his lungs were filled with smoke only moments earlier. He actually feels like he can breathe again.

“I brought you some food,” Asmodeus’ familiar voice says, bringing him back to reality. How long was he asleep for? It somehow felt simultaneously like seconds and years. “I need you to try to eat a little bit, even if it’s not much. You need some food on your stomach.”

He isn’t really sure if food is going to agree with him right now, but it looks like a simple soup with crackers and water. If he’s going to be able to stomach anything, it would be this. “Thanks,” Fizzarolli says, albeit warily.

He eyes the soup and decides to take a spoonful. It’s really good, the flavors light enough to not upset his stomach but rich enough to add depth to the dish. Asmodeus is a surprisingly good chef, if he actually made this himself. It warms him in a way that isn’t unwelcome right now, though he isn’t sure how his fever is doing since before he fell asleep.

“Do you think I still have a fever?” he decides to ask, perhaps against his better judgement. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fever he probably has, but he wouldn’t normally be so bold and ask Asmodeus a question that addresses his weakness. He would normally keep it under tight wraps, not wanting to come across as anything less than perfect. That applies to everyone, but maybe the rules can be bent when it comes to Asmodeus.

Asmodeus uses a hand to feel Fizzarolli’s forehead. The imp momentarily relaxes, leaning into the sin’s cool touch. “You still feel really warm,” he responds. “I don’t think your fever’s broken yet. Let’s give it another day and if it hasn’t gone down by then, we’ll take you to see a doctor.”

The thought of seeing a doctor fills Fizzarolli with a feeling akin to both dread and…something else that he’s decided to keep buried deep, deep down. Asmodeus actually cares about him that much? That he would take Fizz to the doctor’s out of genuine concern for his wellbeing? It’s almost impossible. If he were any more alert right now, he might dismiss the notion entirely. But something about being this vulnerable and so desperately wanting to be cared for makes him want to believe it’s true.

A funny feeling arises in his gut, one that he thinks is…hope? That is, until he vomits all of the soup he’s just eaten directly onto the sheets of the bed. Asmodeus jumps a bit in surprise, but he remains by Fizzarolli’s side nonetheless. “It’s alright,” he says, “just let it out.”

He brings up another wave of undigested soup, his face heating in humiliation. He’s just vomited directly onto the sheets, making a complete mess of everything. And he’s wasted the meal Ozzie made specially for him. Tears spring to his eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he says, sounding genuinely concerned. Either Fizzarolli has completely lost his ability to tell when someone’s fucking with him, or he’s actually being cared about right now. He isn’t sure which one is scarier. “We’ll get this cleaned up. I’m very sorry, the soup must have been too much.”

But the soup was delicious, is what he wants to say, but all that comes out is a noise somewhere between a hiccup and a cough, his pained throat finally catching up to him.

“Shh, rest your voice,” Asmodeus says. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll get rid of the sheets, you stay here. I’ll be right back, my love.”

My love…?

Fizzarolli’s heart swells, hoping that this isn’t just the fever getting so bad it’s making him hallucinate. Did he hear that right?

Asmodeus loves him?

[thatbxolivia]

warnings- mentions of chronic pain and cussing

tbh i don’t really have a name for this one just a summary!! you have chronic pain and you have a bad pain day and daddy takes care of you

sn- i myself only suffer from fibromyalgia so if this is too similar to that and/or it isn’t accurate depictions of other chronic illnesses im so sorry

———————————————

you woke up feeling like you’d been hit by a truck. you almost thought you were sick and these were fever pains. but as you moved and the familiar flash of nerve pain went up your spine, you knew it was a flare up for your chronic pain. you groaned, gingerly moving your legs out of bed and sniffling. this pain was very bad, worse than normal.

“daddy?” you called out weakly, and he came running.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he asked, crouching down to your level. “i’m here, tell daddy.”

“daddy, the pain is so bad today.” you sobbed. his face softened and he lightly rubbed your back.

“i’ll take care of you like i always do, i’m always here for you, you don’t have to worry about anything.” he reassured you. you sighed, knowing today would most likely take away all your mental energy just to stay alive.

“thank you…” you trailed off. “i’m sorry you have to, though.”

“don’t be, i’m happy to do it, always.” he said, gently picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the kitchen table. “let’s get some food in you.” he said, making breakfast. you sat in the chair, shifting uncomfortably against the hard backing. daddy noticed your pain and went to get you a pillow, adding at least some comfort. “it’s going to be okay, remember the flare ups always pass.” he said. and he was right, maybe it took longer than usual sometimes, but they always passed. you could deal with what you deemed your “normal amount” of pain. it was these flare ups with pain worse than usual that made it hard.

eventually, breakfast was ready and your daddy served it to you on your favorite pink plate that caught your eye at a traveling market. you just had to have it.

“eat up, baby. you need energy.” he told you, lightly kissing your forehead. the two of you sat in silence, eating, while anakin would occasionally check on you or fuss over you, helping you eat or wiping your face. you loved the attention.

“daddy, my back really hurts.” you told him, sighing. you’d been trying to ignore it but it was the worst pain today. anakin frowned and took your plate up when you were done, coming back over to you.

“let’s put salve on it, i know it doesn’t help a lot but it does help a little, right?” he asked, checking it was still true. you nodded.

“yes, daddy, it helps a little.” you confirmed. he brought you back to your shared room and had you lay on your tummy while he applied it to your back, careful as to not press harshly on any sore muscles. you soon felt the warmth from the menthol in the salve and felt some relief coming your way. you sunk into the mattress, feeling a little more at ease.

“would you like to just have a lazy day today? you can go back to bed, i’ll join you.” he said, lightly running his fingers through your hair. you were already exhausted just from barely being up an hour so you nodded, taking your body’s sign to relax today.

“yes please, daddy.” you said, turning your head to the side to look at him. he looked back at you, smiling.

“i got you. i’ve got you always.” he said. he always knew how to make you feel better.

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: To Become Liminal

I’ve just been thinking about liminality a lot lately. It’s very much a thing that if I write something with Liminality, it’s probably going to be about liminality and how it affects a specific character, or at least that being a major theme

I don’t like being loosy goosy with liminality personally, it’s very much a less is more situation for me, it’s rare, it’s weird, and it’s hard to become is how I like to treat it. so bare with me everything after this is based on those sensibilities 

Ectoplasm is dangerous. It’s the stuff Ghosts are made of but it’s also some kind of radioactive substance. That’s why even weak ghosts can be picked up by EMF readers and can make the lights flicker. It’s a type of radiation and it’s not safe for humans to be around in anything larger than what a couple of ghosts give off. Too much at once will kill you, and even too much over time could do that.

To become liminal is to incorporate ectoplasm into yourself, for your body to find a balance or die trying. Ectoplasm is already poisoning you, and if properly treated you might be fine with minimal complications after. The real issue is when it’s untreated and your body starts incorporating the thing that’s trying to kill you. 

And the process is painful, incredibly painful.

Fever, headaches, muscle aches as your muscles corrode and try to rebuild themselves, nausea and vomiting as your digestive track morphs, stomach pain and internal bleeding as the ectoplasm eats it’s way through your stomach lining. It hurts as your body is constantly trying to break itself down and rebuild for day, weeks, even months. Think of Vlad in the hospital and how long he was there, even after the proto portal did the majority of the work and launched him past liminal into the start of being a halfa

and then, when the pain stops, your body is different, YOU are different. You’re no longer the same, you don’t feel the same, think the same, or even dream the same. Your dreams are more vivid and disturbing, you have strange cravings and urges, urges your new body wants but you find distressing

Jazz grew up in a house of ecto scientists, The stuff had always been around, but her parents acted like it wasn’t something to worry about. Sure, sometimes the food in the house made her feel sick and she’d end up vomiting, but food poisoning is normal every so often, The fevers were just her getting a cold or the flue, totally normal. But then the portal opened and that tipped her over the precipice. In some ways she was lucky. If she hadn’t been exposed so ling, the amount that flooded the house after the portal would have been enough to kill most people in a week. Her parents were fine because of their protective gear, but Jazz would have died. Neither her parents or Danny noticed the three days she spent in bed, covered in sweat and in pain. she felt like she was dying. She was

Jason died and didn’t come back right. Even after he clawed his way out of his grave, he was more of a zombie than a person. Then Talia had found him and taken him in. The Lazarus pits could work wonders, heal the dying, replenish vitality and youth, truly a thing of wonder. Unless you were alive and healthy. The pits destroy the living and healthy Jason was living when he went in those pits, and the only thing wrong with him was his mind. The Pits brought him back, but it wasn’t right. He spent weeks barely awake, barely able to eat anything, and everything hurt. It hurt like the crowbar had hurt. He dimly remembers Ra’s wondering if Jason had been a failure and if it would be a mercy to end him there. Then Jason got better, but he was different. His body moved different, he had cravings he just couldn’t understand, some of which horrified him.  And the Rage. The rage was beyond what was normal. This wasn’t the pit madness others had spoken of. That would go away or leave him a gibbering mess. He had his mind, but the rage was still there. Something had permanently changed

Jazz had just moved into the apartment across from Jason. Something about her was different. It was familiar yet alien in a way that intrigued and frightened him. Jazz seemed to have similar feeling about him.

Just two people who are more alike than they know and are struggling with the way that similarity had changed them. Maybe they find a sense in community in each other, they finally aren’t alone, Maybe they find comfort in each other. Finally, someone who understands what it was like to go through that, that knows what the dreams are like, what the cravings and impulses are like

could it be romantic? Certainly. 

I just think there’s some really interesting things to be done with liminality in regards to examining a character and how this could affect relationships, romantic or otherwise 

[butchybats]

fic rec ask! 👀😊🥰🛳️🤩

Thank you for asking!!

4. 👀 A fic that you love a normal amount

Your Favorite Innocence by @hekateinhell I’m so normal about this fic so normal. Definitely have not read it dozens of times nope. But joking aside holy shit. Fic of all time. Hall of fame, even. My favorite trope ever is rule 63 and then you combine that with devil’s minion pwp and yeah it’s literally impossible for me to be normal about it. I love how they both feel so in character despite being gender swapped and it’s fluffy and sweet and literally the hottest thing ever

6. 😊 A fic that made you smile on a bad day

on an ordinary sunday by @keepoffthetardis when this was published I was feeling so awful, I had had a migraine for days and a fever and I was visiting family so I felt bad for being sick and aghh. I remember waking up and seeing the email that this was published and got so excited! I immediately fell asleep for another three hours after reading but so worth it. This fic is such a perfect combo of angst and fluff and luckily it was just enough fluff to brighten my spirits. The part specifically where Daniel is drinking sweet wine because Armand likes it… torn between wailing and grinning like a fool :]

8. 🥰 A fic that gives you warm fuzzy feelings

In the Blood by @desertfangs THIS IS SOOO!!! Omg it’s so sweet. The night island content we deserve like genuinely you can’t convince me that this wasn’t what was happening after everyone left night island. Vampire Daniel is so dear to me and I love him still having his mortal mannerisms and being nervous that he’s not what Armand wants even though Armand is so so in love with him and is also worried about him and aghh this fic knocks me out in the best way possible

11. 🛳 A fic that brought you aboard a new ship

July 30: Aftercare by @translouisdpdl so this isn’t a romantic pairing so maybe it doesn’t count as a ship but i don’t care <3 I need more Armand and Nicki fics their dynamic is so fucked up and fun! And this fic is so so good I’ve reread it a couple of times now, the imagery is so nice and it has body horror and Armand being scary and then sweet literally what more do you need in a fic

14. 🤩 A fic that made you SLAM that “subscribe” button

Issues by @graygiantess in which Daniel is way too into the ‘boyfriend is a vampire thing’. A bit of a character study and very hot!! Absolutely love the way that amc Armand and Daniel are written in her fics

[themculibrary]

Vampires Masterlist 3

part one, part two

A Date with Death (ao3) - ashes0909 steve/tony E, 61k

Summary: When True Blood hit the market, and vampires came out of hiding, Steve thought nothing of it. He bought a case for his restaurant and left it to gather dust in the cellar. But then someone started killing his waitstaff and neighbors, and Steve had to investigate.

In the middle of it all, he was still trying to understand why it suddenly seemed like every vampire in town wanted to ask him out on a date, including the enthralling and influential Tony Stark.

A Deal In Blood (ao3) - Stvphen dracula/stephen M, 8k

Summary: Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange, master of the Mystic Arts. Once a brilliant but arrogant neurosurgeon, Strange got into a car accident which resulted in his hands becoming crippled. Once Western medicine failed him, Strange embarked on a journey to Kamar-Taj.

He was since trained by the ancient one, and his hands, where somewhat healed. But not what he wanted them to be healed.

Stephen searched through ancient, forbidden books for other ways to heal his hands and that's when he found Count Dracula. A vampire, who has the ability to heal human kind with one drop of his blood.

And Stephen. He wanted that.

Blood Deprivation and Developing Bonds (ao3) - Slothsomething G, 2k

Summary: “Peter, your heartrate has increased drastically. Should I contact Mr. Stark?” Karen asks, her calm tone a complete contrast to the war currently going on in the trenches of Peter’s brain.

“Shit! No. Don’t- no.” Peter could barely get any words out, too caught up on the smell of blood that didn’t seem to leave his senses. It was all encompassing, and he knew that he couldn’t go home like this. Not like he normally does after patrol.

He changes his path, heading towards the Avengers Tower with no small amount of panic racing through his veins. He wants to turn back around, so badly that it hurts. His jaw clenches and his teeth dig into his lower lip.

When the Avengers tower comes into sight, Peter fears for his life for the first time in a while.

Or, Peter has a secret that rears its ugly head one day on patrol. Tony finds out, and Peter's world is flipped on its head.

Blood Lust (ao3) - Moonykins steve/tony N/R, 4k

Summary: “You don’t want to do this,” Steve begged, yanking against the shackles that bound him to the wall. “If you do you’ll never be able to turn back.”

Tony seemed to contemplate this for a moment and Steve really thought he might have gotten through to him, and then Tony spoke up. “Who says I want to turn back?"

Cufflinks (ao3) - Mermaid_in_space tony/stephen G, 728

Summary: With Tony at his side, Stephen could endure living in the night.

Fe (ao3) - ncee steve/tony T, 4k

Summary: There was something weird about the Captain, it just took three tries for Tony to pinpoint it.

Ghosts of the Past: Bloody Hell (ao3) - NimbusLlewelyn T, 94k

Summary: Hallowe'en is here. The veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest. Things stir in the growing dark. In two cities, monsters make a play for power. And two idiots called Harry end up right in the middle. But this time, it isn't necessarily about them...

I'm Jealous of Your Neck (It Gets to Hold Your Head) (ao3) - Carsonian steve/tony E, 5k

Summary: Steve's going through a rut fever. His vampire roommate, Tony, is very worried about him.

(A.K.A. "oh my God they were roommates" ft. werewolf!Steve and vampire!Tony.)

I'm (Not) Awake (Yet) (ao3) - DepressingGreenie steve/bucky G, 100

Summary: Bucky wants to sleep in... Steve doesn't.

Liquid Lunch (ao3) - romanoff steve/tony M, 108k

Summary: Tony's turned into a vampire. It's very sad for everyone involved.

Especially Steve. Not just because Tony keeps trying to eat him alive. There are other reasons too.

“Just let me try a little bit,” he pleads “I won’t take all of it, oh, just a little taste—” He presses his palms flat against the glass and tries to scrape his teeth down the window “I can, I can control myself, promise.” And then he turns those eyes on Steve, looks him straight on, and they’re pleading, and innocent, and really, it’s selfish of him not to give Tony his blood, why would he not, he can’t see any justifiable reason, so he just starts rolling up his sleeve and nodding as Tony salivates into the glass.

Lose Yourself (ao3) - Veldeia steve/tony T, 2k

Summary: After the curse that turned Steve into a vampire, everything around him feels dull and meaningless—everything except the life coursing through the veins of living humans. And no matter how hard he tries to resist its lure, all it takes is one visit too many from Tony for Steve to lose control.

Love Bites (ao3) - itsallAvengers steve/tony T, 47k

Summary: Tony’s at public school with kids his age for the first time in seventeen years, and he is determined that this year is gonna be his year. He’s going to make friends. He’s going to be popular. People will like him.

Unsurprisngly, none of that actually happens.

He does sort-of-maybe fall in love with a vampire in his class that everyone is terrified of, though. So… there’s that.

My Little Gift (ao3) - gembo64 pepper/tony T, 4k

Summary: Tony’s 150th turning day is here, and his friends knew just what to get him for the momentous occasion.

Aka: his friends kidnap a college student for him. How nice is that?

Secretly A Vampire (ao3) - Mermaid_in_space tony/stephen T, 4k

Summary: 5 times the team didn’t know Stephen was a vampire and 1 time he didn’t realize they knew

Taking One Night (ao3) - articcat621 lucius/natasha E, 1k

Summary: On the last night of her holiday in Spain, Natasha decides to make a move on the man she's seen at the bar.

Thorns for Protection (ao3) - Reioka bucky/tony T, 2k

Summary: It's time for Tony to get a new coffin. Bucky wants to show off his woodworking skills.

Vampire Flu (ao3) - Neverever steve/tony T, 1k

Summary: Other people get a cold or pneumonia, Steve gets the vampire flu. Or how Steve ends up promising to go on vacation with Tony.

Vampire for the Weekend (ao3) - Neverever steve/tony T, 2k

Summary: The Avengers, except for Tony, have to put up with being vampires for awhile until they make Loke reverse the spell. While cooped up in the Avengers mansion, Jan wonders what really is going on between Steve and Tony.

Wanted Deadpool or Alive (ao3) - littlemisswriter123 logan/wade, kaia/claire, ellie/yukio E, 4k

Summary: Claire Novak has been captured by vampires and it's up to Deadpool and the gang to save her.

Written in Blood (ao3) - Caiti (Caitriona_3) T, 1k

Summary: Kate would always be there for Clint - it was her unspoken rule as his partner. But damn! What kind of idiots thought it was a good idea to trap a vampire? Really?

[fruit-salad-ship]

Normal Peach is pretty stubborn when she gets sick. I can't imagine how stubborn former gladiator Peach would be when sick. She could be close to fainting with an incredibly high fever and she would still be pretending as though everything is fine. Cue her confusion as Grey and Plum fret over her and she's too weak to turn down their attention.

I think about this AU a (un)healthy amount. I swear.

Dont you just love it when a woman who could kill you is also a walking disaster with affection and has no idea how to live a normal life due to being a literal killing machine for the vast majority of her existance? no? just me? huh.

super clueless soft peach is my entire life. not enough AUs highlight it

this is unedited, there will be issues. I care not. Have the free food.

The fighters been sick and had to go out into the ring, and win, or die. Her body has struggled through a lot, and she has always survived despite the odds. Now, in a less severe setting, she still upholds the old ways. It’s not been too long since arriving in this new job, she’s still finding her feet, but the rainy season comes, and all her old injuries flare up. Agonising, nagging pain that just seems to riddle her without mercy. None the less, peach soldiers on, not once does she complain or ask for things to be adjusted to help cope. Grey notices her moving stiffly, she’s working harder to bypass the aches and pains in training, still keeping her exacting standard, and he spots her rubbing her knee, trying to keep herself loose during guard duty, rolling her shoulder, trying to keep fidgeting, don’t let the stiffness settle in. He suggests she take a moment to rest but she never does, unaware that she’s dealing with a lot, and if anything, the work is a welcomed distraction from her old injuries.

But this is not the worst of it, not by a long shot. Plums first to catch the creeping ailments, she asks peach a question one day as the guard stands beside her, and peach doesn’t answer, doesn’t even react as if the question wasn’t heard. The second pry for her attention is asked, is the soldier ok? She looks sweaty, exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes evident. Truth be told peach hasn’t slept well for a couple of nights, plagued by aches and gradually worsening tightness in her chest, desperately trying to stave off a creeping illness with as best a home remedy she could make with what little she had. Perhaps she stayed out in the rain working too long last week, it’s for sure caught up with her now. No matter, peach straightens up upon her boss’ prying, breathes, focuses, and says she’s fine, despite the sweat on her brow, and the migraine settling in.

By the end of the day she’s praying for the release of her shift to come, hardly able to hear, the ringing in her head is so loud. She’s stowing her gear in the barracks, manages to get out of it all, the process is a blur before she starts to make her way to her little room, but ends up leant up against a wall in the hallway leading to staff common space, head spinning, her normally sturdy stance is shaken, falling to a knee, and losing consciousness before her face even hits the floor.

The next thing Grey knows is he’s got one of his off duty staff rushing into the barracks, a young lad, worried, exclaiming that he needs to come help. In the rush behind this youngster, Grey listens as he stammers about finding her collapsed on the floor, and seeing as there’s only one member of the guard that’s a woman, the captains worry increased. They turn a corner and see two other members of staff knelt beside Peach, her whole form glistening in the candle light. All they know is they found her like this on the floor, none have dared to do more than check see if she’s still breathing, something you cant miss because it’s so difficult, a raspy struggle for air. Grey feels how cold she is to touch, forehead burning, he felt the heat radiating from her without even putting his hand to it, having seen this a few times before.

He scoops her up in his strong arms with seeming ease, though she is anything but light, rushing to the main house with her held tight, getting a house worker to go fetch Plum as soon as he arrives, placing the unconscious woman down on a cushioned bench for a moment. Peach did not wake, her breathing shallow, a shake to her hands even in this state. Plum comes down draped in her finery, expecting news or some kind of event beginning, but not this. Her mild interest turns to immediate worry, picking up the trailing fabric of her outfit to shift unhindered as soon as her eyes fall on the pair, her pair, one of which is looking awful, the other worried. “Is she hurt?!” Her gentle touch fretfully checked, no stabs, no wounds, no blood, realising just how cold she was.“they found her in the staff hallway, didn’t even make it to her room.”

She asks him to moves the sick fighter to a spare room within the main house, somewhere most staff don’t reside, while quickly fetching items from her desk before returning. Grey’s got his staff, his friend, tucked away in fine sheets, asking one of the young women trying to help to get cold water and a cloth. “Take this, ride to town, and bring back a doctor, please.” Plum's hand extends towards her head of guard and passes him a broach, a family crest made of fine gold with mother of pearl inlay. This token proved who Grey worked for, and how well off they were, Plum would pay to get this fixed, whatever it took. He nods, places his hand gently on her arm in comfort, before turning to leave, a final glance at his girls. As he ventures for help, the lady of the house sits beside this idiot, total fool, taking a cool damp cloth, pressing it to her head. “You should have said something…” Her concerned nag that peach can’t hear. “Why did you ignore this? What were you thinking?” With the cold compress placed on her forehead, she busied herself, removed the braces on both her arms, and for a moment, she got a quiet opportunity to look at a part of this woman that she avoided drawing attention to. The seared brand on her wrist, a constant source of sadness for the fighter, with her unconscious, running a thumb over it was possible, feeling one part that was particularly deep, healed a little less clean that the rest. She must have got this as a child, the barbaric practice spared no one, and whoever did this had been aggressive with their methods no doubt. Looking her over, it seemed all methods of handling this woman were that way inclined, criss crossed with scars. It changed nothing, she wouldn’t leave her side.

The doctor arrived late in the night, Grey with him, leading the way into the house. He checks her over, and in his examination finds the same brand Plum had, retracting. “This is a slave, why are you wasting money on her? Just buy another if she doesn’t pull through.” He began to get up to leave, being barred by Grey in the door, his irritation quiet. Plum did not stand, she sat on the other side of the woman, and kept her companions hand in hers, looking sternly to the doctor. “You will treat her, you will take the money required, and you can return to your night.” Angering or irritating someone they needed was not wise, but a stern tone was all that was needed, he looked from her, to Grey and back to the woman struggling to breathe in bed, taking a seat once more to continue checking for various signs of what was plaguing her. He suggested a hand full of medicinal herbs, and how to use them, asking Plum to send an errand boy to pick up more potent medicine from his establishment the next day. He looks down his nose at Plum, who ignores his judgement, before he leaves in the dead of night.

Days pass before they got any sort of recovery signs, medicine is give, and all of the doctors orders were followed to the letter, before finally the fever breaks. Peach has been tended carefully, and finally, after a long time out cold, she opens her eyes just ever so slightly. She is laid beside Plum who’s reading, her curled up position comfortably on a plush chair. It’s late evening, golden hour creeping in through windows that have fine fabrics surrounding them, blowing in the wind calmly, light flooding into the room. A room the fighter doesn’t recognise immediately. It’s luxurious and spacious, a room of wealth. She groans, slowly coming around, becoming increasingly aware of her headache, of the soreness in her spine, and the groggy feeling lingering in her chest. Plum put her book down instantly, gesturing to a member of staff out of view to get Grey, they’d discussed this, before rushing to take the hand of the woman in bed. Her hand is no longer cold and clammy, there is warmth to it.

“you’re awake!” Such a squeeze to the woman’s mitt, feeling Peach squeeze back weakly with a hoarse grumble. It is no more than a minute before it truly sinks in to the fighter where she is, the smell of this building, the quality of the sheets she’s nestled in. Her body despite still feeling weak sat up quickly, she managed to mumble out “I gotta go- can’t be here.” Before making a fair attempt to stand, perhaps she would have made it if it weren’t for her boss, the tiny delicate frame of this woman who put her hand on her chest and pushed her back down. “Stop, you’ve got to rest, lie back down.” Her gentle shove was enough, for the first time in a long time peach couldn’t fight back. She’d had many a body ache before, but this was the worst, every joint as if it was set in stone. She doesn’t try again, has neither the strength of mind or body to go against her employer, watching the little woman slide up near her on the bed, that skin contact from someone so important, so beautiful, making it harder to breathe than before. “The doctor said you’d no doubt ignored symptoms for a while, what were you thinking?” The fighter accepted her defeat, just this once, and lay there, eyes set on the ceiling, unable to meet her gaze. “I…It normally goes away. I didn’t want to be a problem.” Her attempt to be less of an issue caused way more than she had liked, the worm of guilt sneaking into her head slowly. “Sorry.

Peach knew she shouldn’t be there, not in the house, not in a guest room. She had her own quarters, she should have been put in there and left, she’d pull through. Doctors were expensive, she’d have to work for a long time to earn enough to pay that debt off. If this was her old life, the pits, she’d have been thrown out to fight sick, surely meeting her death. She didn’t even remember getting out of her gear on her last shift, the whole thing was a blur, before she was suddenly just…here, cared for…something no one had done for her since she was a child, before all the mess that happened. She hardly recalled that early memory, but lying there with plum talking to her, telling her about what she’d missed, it felt like home. A thought she tried to shake, did everything she could to ignore, revelling in the hand that held hers.

Grey was suddenly at the door, peaking in, making sure he wasn’t just bursting in on something that’d stress her out, he was just so happy to see her with eyes open. Alive, awake. His relief was visible, joining the girls, calmly sitting on the other side of the bed, able to try to lessen the situation, make a dumb joke. For a moment, he swore she even smiled when she saw him, a weak, half sided smile, but appreciation none the less. Peach didn’t know why they were here, or why this was happening. No logical explanation made any sense to her, their dedicated time and attention felt alien, undeserved. She’d made a mistake, getting sick like this wasn’t acceptable, and now she’d have to live with that on her head. Another weight to carry around.

She felt nothing but awkwardness and shame for the care they’d given, their efforts wasted on someone like her, they could be handed to someone else more deserving. She was fine now, it wouldn’t happen again. They’d found her becoming more reserved as the day progressed, as if her returning strength bolstered her ability to isolate herself. Every time plum returned to the room to check up on her she’d gotten up, made the bed, and was sat up in a chair, just waiting. Plum said don’t leave the room, so she didn’t, still followed her orders, just…didn’t feel right being in a bed like that, or in a space as nice as this. Tried not to touch anything, just in case she broke it, or it was special in some way she didn’t know, just sitting, waiting. Plum showed irritation with her behaviours, which she apologised for, but none the less, didn’t know what else she could do. “Why cant you just try to relax? I brought your book, theres nice clothes for you to swap to if you want, you’ve got a meal you’ve hardly touched.” Her boss asking her to do things could be hostile, could be kind, it made no difference, she had to do it. Peach awkwardly sat back on the very edge of the bed, and picked her book up. The feather keeping her page taken, trying to do what she was told, just…relax right? Reading does that. She could at least follow that instruction.

The lady of the house sighed, trying to get this fighter to take a break was like getting blood from a stone. “Fine, at least come and sit in the garden with me.” Peach went to put the book down, but was stopped. “Bring that.”

“I don’t have any of my gear, should I go get it?” She’d make a lousy guard without a sword at the very least. Surely she should be back to work attire for this? “You’re not working, you’re sitting, no swords, no armour, no shields. Just…c’mon.” Her gentle hand took the larger woman and tugged ever so slightly, feeling her follow, an expression of confusion across her face.

Grey had to keep working, make sure the grounds were secure and his staff were informed, having had three of the men find her unconscious, the rumours started to circle. Many of the young men serving under him asked about Peach, she’d not been very open to conversation, but now and then she’d quietly help one of the youngsters with their stance, tapping their shoulder or shifting their foot with her own to improve it. One raid she’d saved a young boy from a bandit, he’d surely have perished then if not for her, an act she didn’t think much of, she did her job. Guarded. She took no praise for it, and didn’t suddenly become chatty and open, but the boy was determined to get to know her better, surely she’d have some good stories to tell at the least, right? The older guards found her quiet nature very comforting, she listened to their tall tales, and often shared meals sat with them in the communal areas, as they tended not to ask too many questions, or look to her with as much curiosity. They had seen it all, and so her taller, broader, damaged form was not so surprising. She had started to belong, and so when she didn’t show up for her shift, they asked, and Grey obliged with an honest answer. Every morning they’d ask to check in, see how she was doing, some even stopped by the room she was held up in, seeing her sleeping form, just to make sure she was still there, that she didn’t need anything. She never did.

So for Grey to see the woman out, in the sun, not lugging the armour around she was known for, nor with sword in hand, was quite a pleasant surprise. He could see out the window of the barracks that Plum had brought her into the light, trying to get her to just recover peacefully. There was a clear disconnect, he could not hear their conversation, but Peach looked lost, and Plum was laughing gently about whatever was said. The two seemed to settle into it. He saw the fighter sit awkwardly for a moment beside her boss, her attention caught by a bee flying low past her, watched it land on lavender, didn’t take her eyes off it until it took off and moseyed away at a leisurely pace. By this point the breeze picked up and caught her hair, uncharacteristically down, seeing her take a big inhale, shut her eyes for a brief moment, breathe. Perhaps she was better suited to the outdoors. Grey recalled the dank conditions of the underside of where she’d come from, those fighting pits lined with stone and mud. All colours felt dark and dirty, what little light cast by sconces just never enough. So now, sat in sunshine, with the calm green around her, no walls, no roof over her head, she seemed to actually enjoy for a moment. Every time a new bug would inch closer she’d get distracted by it. He found it impossible to take his eyes off her, she had a curiosity he didn’t notice before. She showed Plum one that she’d let crawl onto her hand, some kind of grub or caterpillar from what he could tell sat this far away, to which plum recoiled. He longed to hear what was said. The little woman watched in horror as Peach just calmly looked over this little creature on her, before letting it take its time to move from her to a leaf.

Sitting turned to lying, somehow, maybe it was the fresh air, this woman dozed off out in the open, plums little body against hers as she read to herself. He had never seen the fighter relax like this, whatever illness had its grips on her truly must have worn her out. His break allowed Grey to wander over to them out in the gardens, sitting with Plum, neither waking the warrior, she slept soundly. “Good to see her taking time to recover.” Both watched the rise and fall of her chest, that dreadful struggle to breathe that afflicted her clear, she was quiet, calm. “Yeah, seems she’s like a big cat, a pit lion. Put her in the sun and she goes down finally.” The similarities were uncanny, her behaviour was so similar to that of the caged beasts used to rile crowds, creatures from far off lands who don’t belong in cages. “I don’t think I’ll ever disconnect that imagery now.” This time spent so close with her, though sickness none the less revealed a far softer side that hid beneath the surface, she was not all tooth and claw after all, even if she herself didn’t even know what to do with that softness.

Her steady decline into some small domesticated behaviours progressed. She was forced to take the rest of the week off, every day she’d return to the gardens, and each time would seemingly let go of some of the tense movements, shed the weight in her shoulders until by the end of her time off, she was freely roaming the space, she even discussed with the gardener of her own free will. She was…learning. Plum and Grey watched from afar as she seemed to show an interest in something, a huge step. Her strength returned, and in the process, something else, something new started growing from the ruins of her past life, she was always defiant, but now she had something to put that frustration towards, to channel all the unfair moments she’d survived into something good. Perhaps getting sick, though terrifying for those around her, was a moment to let her see that she could slow down, that she was allowed to extend her interests to other things outside of work.

The parting moment when plum finally allowed her to return to work, left Peach in a strange situation. She had never had to sincerely thank someone before, and found herself tripping over her words as she tried to come off as genuine as possible. She certainly made a mess of it, but despite that, her boss smiled. It was quite something to watch someone so strong and so capable, fidget and find it impossible to look up from her feet, the blush as she said the wrong thing, backtracking quickly, trying not to be an idiot. “You didn’t have to help me- not that I’m ungrateful, I’m not, it…I-I just…I need to pay this back somehow. Take it out of my wages, I’ll make up for the lost hours. I don’t know if I’d have pulled through without you getting a doctor, it was a huge inconvenience to you, to everyone-“ Plums quiet smile was unmistakable, resting her head on her hand at the desk she sat behind, paused on signing a letter, placing her writing implement down half way through the conversation. When peach fell silent, trying not to feel like she messed up every word of that, she held her breath as her boss stood, walked calmly around the desk, pausing mere inches away, looking up with those big brown eyes she struggled to connect with, glancing away nervously. “For the record, I don’t want repayment, never did. This was no trap to shackle you to a debt” her gentle touch to the woman’s arm for the first time didn’t cause the fighter to flinch away at all. “But I see you’re struggling with this so I will think of some way that you can make this up to me, just not now, get settled, I’ll call on a favour or two someday perhaps.” The conversation is ended with Plum tugging at the woman’s hand, bringing her down to a more manageable height, one sweet little kiss on her cheek, before turning to get back to work at the desk. Peach is freed to leave, and does so with a whole new kind of fever. Her boss finds it endlessly entertaining that she gets so flustered from the slightest shred of affection.

Finally it was time for her to go back to work, she was fighting fit again, recovered and finally sat back in the guard house, donning gear on a bench. Other staff entered the building, all greeting her, happy to see her well once more. Her presence put the youngsters at ease especially, she was some kind of affirming energy to them, like a mother hen that they all flocked to, even if peach herself didn’t notice at all, Grey did, saw them all rally to her without thought. Magnetic personality type, even if she said very little and showed limited emotional range. She was stable, sturdy, and they needed that. In a way, the whole house needed it. She was gaining a family, something she didn’t even notice yet.

[westgateoh]

Whumptober Day Two: Delirium

“Not Mori’s Kid” Oda & Dazai

When Dazai slips into the Bar Lupin and stumbles on the nonexistent fold in the carpet, Oda reaches out to steady him and frowns. “You’re sick,” he states.

Dazai shrugs in that infuriating sixteen-year-old way and says, “So?” His normally pale cheeks are flushed and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Oda pulls him over to a table instead of at their usual place at the bar and says, “Sit. Please.” Dazai folds into the chair and flops his head down on the table with a ‘thunk’ and closes his eyes. He lets out a shuddering breath.

“Ango, does he have an assignment tomorrow?”

“He always has an assignment.”

“What else would I do,” Dazai mumbles from the table.

Oda feels his forehead and frowns. “Ango, get in touch with Mori and tell him to find someone else.”

Dazai sits up at that and glares at Ango. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Ango glances at Oda apologetically. “I wouldn’t.”

“Dammit, Ango. He’s just a kid.”

“He’s Mori’s kid, and I’m not messing with Mori,” Ango replies, taking a sip of his whisky.

“’m not Mori’s kid,” Dazai says as he lays his head back down.

Oda crosses his arms. “Fine. Come sleep at my place, though, and then you can go do your dumb assignment from there. No drinking tonight.”

Dazai doesn’t answer, which is answer enough. Oda pulls him to his feet, waves goodbye to Ango, and practically hauls him back to his apartment above the ramen shop. He shushes the little ones and pours Dazai into his own bed after forcing acetaminophen into his hand with a frown.

The next morning, Dazai is gone when Oda wakes, and Oda spends the day worrying.

He waits impatiently at the bar for a while after his own work, but Dazai doesn’t show. He tries a couple other places and then gives up. He doesn’t know where Dazai stays most nights.

When he makes it back to his place, there’s a figure slumped over a table in the ramen shop. He hurries in, and the owner grumbles, “Kid’s looking for you. I think he’s sick, so get him outta here, will you?”

Oda nods and pulls Dazai to his feet. He sways and doesn’t even say hello to Oda. He’s pale, and his eyes have exhaustion bruising around them, and he barely opens them when Oda pulls him upstairs. This time he pulls Dazai’s coat off, and carefully undoes his vest and button-down shirt so that they’re open and the bandages the boy insists on each day are the only thing visible. He lays him on his back on Oda’s bed, and Dazai doesn’t move. His breath his shallow and the fever he had yesterday has increased a worrying amount.

“’m not sick,” Dazai whispers, his eyes still half open. “I can do the work.”

Oda’s heart breaks a little. This boy is so young and so old at the same time. “Shhh. You’re done with work for today,” he says as he brushes damp hair off of Dazai’s forehead.

“Can’t stop, can’t stop. You know that,” Dazai declares, his voice a little stronger this time. “You gave me a place here. Work’s important.” He thrashes a little, clearly trying to sit up.

Oda presses him back down to the bed. “Stop. Stay here. The work is done.” He wants to give Dazai a place. He wants him to get to be a teenager, not a mafia leader. Mori’s evil way of recruiting children sends a shiver down Oda’s spine again at the thought. He goes to the kitchen and pulls some ice into a towel and goes back to the bed to press some ice against Dazai’s throat. “We’ll get you cooled down, then you can sleep, kid,” he says.

Dazai swallows thickly against the ice and shivers. His eyes open a bit more. “Oda?” he asks. “Where’s Mori-san?”

“Not here. You’re safe here.”

“Not safe with Mori,” Dazai says, closing his eyes again. “No one is.” He pauses, and then his eyes fly open, and he grabs Oda’s wrist. “You’re not safe. Take me back to him.”

“Shhh. Dazai, quiet. You need to rest. I’m safe with everyone. No one can best me. You know that. You’re safe here. Rest,” he urges. He runs the ice across Dazai’s forehead and clammy skin, and over his palms and other bare skin he can get to. He presses his phone to his ear and dials a number he rarely uses and waits. When the secretary picks up, he says, “Tell Mori that Dazai is ill. He’ll be unavailable for a couple of days.”

“No one is unavailable to Mori-san,” the secretary states.

“Dazai is. And if he wants to take it up with me, he can send someone to deal with me and we’ll see how far he gets.”

There is silence, and then, “Two days. No more.”

Oda ignores them and hangs up.

Dazai is still shuddering from fever, but Oda manages to get him to drink some tea and keep it down. He finally settles into a restless sleep. The younger kids hover in the doorway asking if they can help, and Oda smiles and says, “Maybe when he feels a bit better you can read to him,” and they scramble off to go pick out some books. Oda sits next to Dazai and runs his hand through his hair and brushes a thumb over the bandages on his wrist. Oda will allow Dazai his suicide talk most days, knowing it’s mostly an act and mostly a way to wish for control, but today he hates looking at the bandages. No one should see self-harm as the only way to control their life, and Dazai is so sharp and has so much potential that Oda dreams of the day he can make enough money to escape to the seaside with all the kids he loves, including Dazai, so all of them can find their potential away from violence and hatred.

Right now, though, he’ll keep Dazai safe from Mori, and he’ll correct Ango the next time they hang out. Dazai is not Mori’s kid. He’s Oda’s, and that means that Oda will protect him however he can, even if that means ice and soup and blankets and books read in small voices to remind Dazai of safety and a hint of family.

[theomnicode]

Burning fever

Archive of our own

-*-

Heroes all around the cities are falling mysteriously ill to the ever present flu. No one is certain what kind of viral infection would affect just the heroes. Some intelligent monsters have been scouting around and seen that there’s far less heroes to actually handle them than usual, so they’ve begun to attack people en masse. Even the fabled Q-city seems to be overrun by monsters. Genos attempts to pull triple duty by taking down as many monsters as possible, as he is not affected by the mysterious viral infection.

One monster, while not a dragon level threat, manages to incapacitate Genos with electromagnetic pulses. Genos internally berates himself for not thinking about protecting himself from electromagnetism. What a massive oversight on his part. 

However, when the monster attempts to finish him off, Saitama jumps into the fray in pyjamas and punches it sluggishly, exploding it into copper and wire particles on the spot. 

“Man, can you guys make less noise right outside my house…I can’t sleep with all that ruckus,” Saitama complains, nose stuffed and looking feverish. “Especially when my head feels so fuzzy…”

Genos looks at Saitama’s sweating form with concern. “I’m very sorry, Saitama-sensei, I was not prepared for the enemy to have electromagnetism. I will—”

Saitama starts to wave off Genos’ long winded apology, but coughs hard instead, almost bowling Genos over in the process and shivers so much that the pavement cracks apart.

“Man, it’s so hot and cold at the same time,” he holds himself as he shivers, “I don’t remember ever feeling this awful…” 

Saitama wavers, trying to stand upright but failing miserably. “Now I feel even worse after I punched it, I wonder why…” he manages to utter out, then faints on the spot.

“SAITAMA-SENSEI!” 

Genos catches him onto his arms quickly before Saitama can actually fall down flat on his face on the pavement and takes note of his actual temperature, noting with distress that it's dangerously high and that Saitama-sensei must’ve exerted himself too much, despite it not being even miniscule amount of effort he normally needs to dispose such monsters. Genos curses the circumstances once more, for inadvertently putting his sensei in danger and begins to rush him to the nearest hospital.

Genos can't for the life of him believe that feverish man in his arms is his master, the same man he deemed invincible, downed by a mere cold. It shouldn't be happening, logically there is no way Saitama-sensei would be able to get sick like this but here he is, carrying his prone, vulnerable master to the hospital for treatment. Perhaps he miscalculated somewhere, maybe common sickness can still affect even the strongest man on earth, but it still feels surreal...

He looks down at the man in his arms and distractedly notes Saitama-sensei is trying to grasp at his clothes weakly, delirious but coherent enough to realize he's being carried at fast speed and his hearing registers sensei mumbling his name. Genos tries to keep calm when he re-scans for elevated heart rate, sensei’s dangerously high temperature and the shivers–-correction, muscle tremors that rock his body. He's lucky that his stabilizers correct his grip, else Saitama-sensei would tremble right out of his arms.

“Do not worry sensei, I am en route towards the nearest hospital for urgent care. I have notified the staff of an incoming patient,” Genos' voice is serious, but soothing. He would carry Saitama-sensei to a proper treatment facility asap.

“Do I...really need hospital? That bad, huh…” Saitama croaks and violently sneezes, which Genos angles away from his head but an unfortunate lamp post still bends from the air pressure.

“Yes sensei, your body temperature is dangerously high for humans and you're experiencing muscle spasms, dehydration and elevated heart rate,” Genos recites his medical condition at a fast rate. “Hyperpyrexia is considered medical emergency, as it may indicate serious underlying condition or lead to severe morbidity or to—”

A sudden finger on his chin and his lower lip interrupts his rambling.

“20 words or less, Genos…”

“Yes sensei. I am sorry, I will stop rambling now. What I mean is, you need urgent medical attention for your extremely high fever.”

“Ok…” Saitama mumbles quietly. “I’m tired, ‘m gonna sleep…” He mutters weakly, then goes out like a light.

Genos starts running even faster.