#fever-induced writing

[climbthemountain2020]

Solstice Gifts

Baby's first Feysand! | Ao3

[Feyre loves buying Solstice gifts for her family, but this year she might have been outdone.]

Eternal thank yous and forehead kisses to @tunaababee @cauldronblssd and @witch-and-her-witcher for just being the most wonderful humans and beta reading and encouraging me to post this.

Solstice in Velaris was the most lovely time of year, and no matter how much time Feyre spent here, she doubted she’d ever grow tired of it.

The snowy streets were covered in faelights, all twisted into beautiful shapes and hanging from the signs and light posts. There were long strings of them criss-crossing over The Rainbow and casting all the snow and shops in an ethereal glow. Complex smells of cinnamon, clove, freshly baked breads, rosemary, and mulled ciders cascaded from the storefronts, their windows decked in boughs of holly and fir and their doors hung with mistletoe.

Feyre was hurrying back to the River House, late as usual, with the last of her gifts.

She’d been mostly organized this year, but Nesta’s gift had ended up taking longer than expected, and of course today was the first time she’d been able to sneak off to grab the little Illyrian leathers with space for wings that would fit an almost-four year old.

She’d gone a little overboard on gifts this year, but it was hard to not spoil those she loved now that she had the means. Old habits die hard, and she too-vividly remembered the years that she and her sisters had stoically ignored the Solstice happening at all, not even a candle lit in the windows to be spared. So now, when things had changed so vastly in the last seven years, she would fully use every bit of means at her disposal to shower everyone with gifts they would love.

Nyx was six now, somehow, the years flying by in a rush that she tried and failed to stop like grabbing whitewater in her hands. Rhysand reassured her constantly, a laugh on his lips, that though time was flying, they still had centuries together, and there was no need to beg for more. Another thing she had trouble letting go of in her immortality–the idea that things were good now, and there was no time limit on it. Things could be happy and productive and peaceful like this for centuries more. But Feyre still had trouble allowing hope for good things to bloom in her heart, despite feeling beyond blessed in all ways.

She shuffled the bags in her arms–she’d had to stop for some last-minute pastries, too. What good was a solstice birthday if she couldn’t eat whatever she wanted? The smells on the way to the leather-smith had been too good to resist, and she was crazed for the pistachio croissants with the bergamot filling that the bakery beside Rita’s had this time of year.

She quietly snuck the front door open, hoping to slip in quietly and unnoticed by her houseguests. Mor, draped in her normal gorgeous finery, strode through the foyer, lifting a brow that surely must be genetic, and before tipping her head back to laugh at Feyre.

“You’re just as bad as Rhys, you know? I saw him coming back not twenty minutes ago.”

Rhys, that weasel.

Feyre wondered what he’d been off plundering after amusedly lecturing her this morning about sneaking out last minute for more presents. She ran the bags upstairs, ditched her coat, and wrapped the leathers quickly in the celebratory packaging she’d picked up last month in their guest bedroom before scurrying back down the stairs. She’d arrived just in time, everyone present in the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen announced the dinner was ready. Luckily, she’d had the foresight to prepare before going to grab the gifts, her long midnight-blue dress swaying luxuriously around her feet, the gossamer sleeves like a soft embrace along her arms. She’d definitely gotten used to wearing pretty clothes in the time she’d spent in Velaris, though most days, she still dressed for comfort. She’d left her hair down and lightly curled, compulsively tucking a strand behind her ear as she entered the dining room. Elain had helped prepare the Solstice meal and cake, as she insisted she do every year, and Feyre had to admit it all looked mouthwatering, as always.

Rhys pulled her seat out for her as she walked up, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head as he pushed her in.

“Last minute shopping go well?” He murmured against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine and goosebumps down her arms. He knew it, too, and she turned to scrunch her nose at him as he laughed.

“I hear you’re one to talk, hypocrite.” He held his hand to his chest feigning offense, then sent her an absolutely world-shattering smile as he moved to take his place.

A crash in the hall sent Feyre’s eyes to the doors, followed by Nesta’s bellowing.

“Hey! Wings closed indoors! You know the rules.” Giggles abound as Nyx and Aife came into the room, leaning into each other and cackling as they took their seats. They were only two years apart and thick as thieves. Though Nesta and Feyre would never admit it aloud, seeing their children close as they’d never had the opportunity to be as children had healed something between the two of them that had once felt depthless.

Nyx pushed midnight-black hair from his eyes as he looked to Feyre.

“Mom, can we go play with our presents after we open them tonight? I promise I’ll go straight to bed after.”

“I don’t see why not. Nesta, are you all staying the night tonight?” Nesta looked to Cassian and nodded.

“I think so. Aife and Nyx are going to be here all day tomorrow anyway during the snowball fight. We might as well.” She gave a pointed look to Cassian, who grinned wolfishly. Feyre could hear Aife whispering to Nyx.

“Who’s going to win this year?”

“Uncle Az. It’s always Uncle Az. He says our dads are old now.” They both giggled and Feyre cracked a smile, shooting the conversation down the bond to Rhys, whose eyebrows lifted as he shot her an amused smile as if to say we’ll see.

They tucked into the great feast, a large roast the centerpiece, surrounded by offerings of ham and turkey and too many sides to reasonably name. Feyre loaded her plate with the most buttery mashed potatoes she’d ever tasted, one of Elain’s specialities that Feyre always requested for special occasions, as well as a basil and tomato tart, baked to crisp perfection by Nuala.

She remembered a time when she’d hated her birthday, and while she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with all the attention, she surely would celebrate now if only for the delicious foods she got to have. She couldn’t beat the company either, her blood and chosen family all seated around the table, laughing and loving and enjoying themselves in her home. A decade ago, she would have laughed in the face of anyone who’d tried to describe this possibility, and it wasn’t lost on her how much luck and fate had stepped in to make things as they were.

++

Stuffed to the brim and with the gift exchange behind them, Feyre slumped onto the couch. The kids had been spoiled beyond reason, the piles of gifts higher than the chairs surrounding them.

Nyx and Aife had begged Az, Cass, and Lucien to bring them outside to practice with the new bow and arrow sets, courtesy of Elain and Lucien’s recent trip to the Day Court. As the official “Uncle Troupe”, as they’d so ridiculously named themselves, they felt it would have been in poor taste to decline. Feyre pulled her feet up onto the couch and laid her head back. It had been a busy few months, though things were finally, blessedly beginning to smooth out. They’d been able to delegate a bit more recently, and it certainly helped their workload.

Elain had gone back to the kitchens to help clean up and exchange gifts with the twins before they took off for the evening, leaving Feyre to relax for a bit while Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor sat at the table with sweets and coffees chatting. Amren and Varian had skipped the party this year in favor of a trip to Summer, as they now alternated holidays between courts. While she’d never taunt Amren to her face about it, Feyre secretly loved how domesticated she’d become in the time she’d known her, settling down while still claiming that ancient power hummed through her veins.

She felt Rhys sit down by her feet, his presence always noted by her magic immediately twining with his. At any given time, she could feel where he was, the power soaring back and forth between them like a current. The depth of love between them was fathomless and deep, and she’d never quite get over the fact that she had him all to herself, hers and hers alone, for the rest of her life.

He picked her feet up in his hands, shuffling them over to his lap and giving them a squeeze.

“Tired, darling?” His voice was a low rumble as he leaned against the back of the couch, settling in.

“Exhausted. I love the holidays, but I would also love a solid two days of sleep.” He laughed, his smile lighting up the room as she lifted her head to peek at him. “Did you enjoy your Solstice gifts?”

She’d bought him a device she’d found at one of the shops in Day Court on a summer visit to Elain and Lucien months ago. Duty had them back and forth between courts now, and Feyre couldn’t deny the love she had for any excuse to get to the shimmering beaches of Day. She’d found it nestled in the back of a tinkerer’s store–a handheld device that rolled over clothes, enchanted to remain sticky, and pulled any lint or fuzz from them.

“It’s only my favorite thing I’ve ever owned,” Rhys quipped immediately. She laughed, closing her eyes again and poking him in the side with her toe. He gripped it in his hands and threatened to tickle her. “How about you, love? Get everything you wanted?” Feyre paused, but didn’t open her eyes. She should say yes. She should feel like she had everything she wanted, but there was just one thing missing, and unfortunately it was something she couldn’t have.

“Hey lovebirds, we’re heading out!” Mor called across the room, her arm around Emerie’s.

Feyre sat up to say goodbye. “So early?”

Mor chuckled and Emerie elbowed her in the ribs. “Solstice plans of our own,” Mor said, waggling her brows at Rhys and giggling as he rubbed his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Alright, then.” He slapped his palms on his thighs, laughing and ending the conversation as Emerie blushed about ten shades of red, still not quite used to the way this family spoke so openly about things. Feyre stood to hug them both.

“We’re so glad you came. Feel free to drop in any time tomorrow. We’ll be here all day.”

Gwyn and Nesta had gone to join their mates and the children out on the illuminated training ring in the yard, leaving Feyre to slip back down onto the couch, this time scooting closer to Rhys and leaning her body against his. He was always so warm and solid, her touchstone in times both trying and lovely. He always smelled like oranges and the sea–the smell of Velaris, of home, tied intrinsically with his. She nuzzled closer, his arm finding its way around her waist as he settled too.

“Everything okay, darling?”

She hummed noncommittally. She hated that even with all this joy, all these gifts, all this family, she still couldn't shake the thought that something was missing, incomplete.

“Can you believe this is Nyx’s sixth Solstice?” She felt Rhys soften beneath her, realization creeping down the bond from his end, followed by a burst of soothing love and affection.

“He's incredible, isn't he? What are we going to do when he learns how to use that bow accurately?” She laughed.

“Truly, it's the inaccurate use I'm more worried about.” His breath ghosted her ear as he chuckled, sending those light shivers scurrying back along her spine.

Things got quiet, then. She knew it would take very little for Rhys to understand what she was thinking, if he didn't already intrinsically know. Even without the bond, even without the daemati powers, there was really a moment he wasn't able to read her like a wide open book.

“He's so big now…” she let her voice drift off, trying to hide the hurt in it and failing miserably. As always Rhys filled in the gaps.

“He’s wonderful. We made a really wonderful child, Feyre. He’s everything I never even dared to hope for for myself. I never thought such joy was possible for someone like me. You know that he’s the greatest gift you ever could have given me, right?” She felt the tears burning behind her eyes, and she took in a deep breath as she felt him press a kiss to her temple.

“I know.” Her voice was just a wobbly whisper, quiet in the room.

“And if he’s the only one we ever have, it’s more than enough for me. I need to know you know that, Feyre.” She nodded furiously, the big tears slipping down her cheeks now, burning hot tracks as they descended.

“I can’t even explain it. It just feels like someone else should be here.” He pulled her tightly against him, resting his chin on her shoulder and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“And maybe, someday, they will be. But if the three of us are all we ever have, it’s more than enough. It’s everything to me.” She couldn’t hold back the sobs then, turning to bury her face in his chest as she cried.

It had been two years since they’d decided things had evened out enough that another child was even an option for them. They’d been casual about it at first, enjoying themselves and giggling in the dark under covers as they talked about the possibilities of the future. She missed Nyx’s tufts of baby curls, that new infant smell that seemed to cling to him always then faded abruptly away after he hit one year. She missed the snuggles and the closeness, and her heart ached to watch how wonderful he was with his cousin without knowing if she’d ever be able to give him that gift as a big brother.

Realistically, she knew all the logic. It could take fae decades to have a child. It wasn’t always going to be as quick as it had been with Nyx. He’d come quickly, but the consequences, as everyone remembered, had been disastrous and near-fatal. She’d never even considered the possibility of it being a problem again when Nesta informed her she’d changed their anatomy, but she’d never considered that she might be the one having the problem. Part of her wondered if the absolute massacre of her body bringing Nyx into the world was responsible–her tissue mangled and her blood spilt and her spirit eking into the ether, only to be yanked back and mended together at the last possible second. Could it have damaged her irreparably, the anatomy be damned?

“Nothing is your fault, love. Not one bit of it.” He held her to his chest as her cries subsided. “And it’s okay to be upset about this. You don’t have to hold everything in all the time. There are no prizes for stoicism.” She snorted at him, and he huffed amusedly at her.

“Pot, meet kettle,” she shot back wetly. He smiled softly as she sat back to look at him, a little of the life returning to her as well.

“You’re a lovely mother, and our boy thinks you’ve hung the stars and moon above Velaris, even if he is getting old enough to wield a weapon. A little sibling won’t ever change that. Plus, I get the impression Aife isn’t going to be his only cousin.” She sighed, nodding, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s just hard not to feel like I’ve done something wrong. I know how badly you want another, how badly I do. It’s hard not to wonder.” He took his hands in hers.

“I meant it when I told you that you and Nyx, you are the gifts. Our family is absolutely lovely the way it is now. If we’re meant to grow it one day, we will, and if we aren’t, believe me when I tell you I am absolutely over the moon for the way things are now.” She couldn’t help but kiss him then, the stars reflecting in his violet eyes taking her breath away, as they always did. “Plus, I never mind practicing with you.” She smacked him across the chest as he grinned broadly and wickedly at her, hauling her into his lap in response as she yelped.

If anything, Rhys knew how to chase away her tears better than anyone else ever had or would.

Just then, the parlor doors opened and Elain stepped through.

“Oh, just the two I was looking for! I’ve got one last gift for you both, but I wanted to wait until the right moment.” She ducked back through the doors momentarily, reappearing with a small, neatly wrapped parcel as they stood. She flounced lightly up to them, setting the little bundle wrapped in delicate yellow paper in Rhys’s hands.

“Elain, you didn’t need to get us anything else. You already gave us such lovely gifts and you made dinner.” Elain blushed, still the demure lady after all this time.

“Consider it a double gift.” She whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially. Rhys pulled back the paper and pulled out the tiniest, knitted pink blanket.

One beat, two. The silence hung in the room as Elain smiled wide.

“I just saw last week, but I wanted to make you something to let you know in a way that was special.”

Feyre’s hands shot to her stomach, and Rhys began to cry, turning to her and holding her close while still looking at Elain.

“Now?” Feyre asked, incredulously.

“Probably only about a month along.” Elain smiled again. “I knew with the wings and everything last time, you’d want to get in to see Madja as early as possible.”

Feyre was sobbing into Rhys’s chest again, his tears dripping down into her hair. Feyre felt him reach out to Elain and pull her into the embrace.

“Thank you, Elain. Thank you so much.” She pulled back, laughing lightly again.

“I’ll leave you both to it then. I gotta get little lady’s cousin and uncle home safely.” She put a hand to her own stomach, winked, and went towards the back to grab Lucien before Feyre and Rhys could even register her news. He grabbed her face in his hands, pressing kisses to every inch of her face.

“I love you, more than anything.” Feyre laughed, the sound breathless and airy. She couldn’t take her hands off her stomach, the joy pulsing through her veins with every beat of her heart.

A daughter.

“I have one more gift for you, too, actually.” He reached into his back pocket to withdraw a small, navy velvet box, pressing it gently into her hands.

Her eyes shot to his. “You didn’t need to get me something else.”

“Open it.” His smile was wide open, his entire heart spelled across his face like stars across the night sky.

Feyre cracked open the box and couldn’t help the flood of tears that began anew. Nestled in the soft velvet was a silver necklace, a charm of a large crescent moon with two small stars dangling down off of it.

“You knew?”

“I suspected.” He smiled. “You’ve been getting those pistachio pastries all week that you liked so much last time. I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared with one more last minute gift.” She took it out, turning to let him put it on her. He let his hands graze across her neck as he dropped them while she turned in his arms.

“Beautiful.” He murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you, Rhys. I love it. It’s been the best Solstice ever.” Her smile was broad and teary, but she felt the joy all the way down to the very fibers of her immortal heart.

“Thank you, Feyre. For all of it.”

And nothing in all of Velaris could hold a candle to the joy radiating back and forth down the bond between them in that moment as their lips met quietly again this Solstice.

[thecryptidart1st]

No, I was absolutely caught off-guard by John Oliver explaining how Chuck E. Cheese used to be sketchy as hell, almost as if two guys from the 1970s made it through a ton of ABBA, drugs, and sleepless nights

(Also Hello Minerva)

[e-n-t-r-o-p-i-c-f-r-o-g]

Everyone take a moment to appreciate not having that ominous tickle in your throat and ache in your bones you get right before a cold

[grimgoregrimoire]

Oh man, I'm sick! I don't really feel like writing!

*Proceeds to write 12 poems "just for fun uwu"*

[pettyprocrastination]

super cool apocalypse universe A?

Meet super cool apocalypse universe B. 

let talk about it 

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

would you be willing to write for ryan from the office again? :)

Ryan Howard is super sick. A new coworker takes care of him and helps him with his congestion. CW: Induced sneezing (non-kink).

So I know canonically Ryan is a selfish, egotistical ass who never learns from his mistakes, but I can just imagine him being a little more subdued and boyish and eager to please when he first starts his fancy corporate job, and even more so if he finds himself miserably sick. For that reason, this story is set within the first few weeks of him leaving the Scranton branch and starting his new role. Mess warning, definitely more than I usually write. It was egg week when I wrote most of this, so no apologies. This also refers to sn*t and other less “pretty” snz words often, because that’s how I imagine Ryan would think about them. 

To the anon who requested, sorry as always for the long wait. Winter sucks the writing juice out of me without fail. At least it’s extra long anyway. Hope this is somewhat what you were looking for. 

Based on this post by @nobodybetterlookatme

Prompts used (from this old prompt list): 

🦠  sniffles

🤧 sick for the holidays

What A Lovely Way to Burn

Ryan Howard scrubbed his hands over his face for the third or fourth time that hour, noting yet again how cold his hands felt against his cheeks. He sniffled, coughed, hating the grating sound it made and how much it hurt his head and throat. He had hardly put his hands down when a demanding itch flared up in his sinuses and he scrambled to grab a tissue. 

"KZZT'choo! KHGGZT'choo!!" The thick, stifled sneezes had unpleasantly shifted all the congestion in his head, and he blew what felt like a gallon of slime out of his nose. 

"You've been in New York for two weeks in the middle of summer, and you're already sick?" came a laughing voice from nearby. Ryan jumped, shoving the nasty tissue out of sight hurriedly. A hot girl, in fact that hottest girl here, the one that had caught his attention from the first day, was standing in front of his desk. Actually, leaning on it would be more accurate. She smirked at him flirtatiously, taking in his barely-unpacked desk and sickly, disheveled appearance. "Happy fourth of July, by the way."

"Yep. Happy fourth of July. Sick for the most random holiday. Call me lucky, I guess," he said, wishing he could pronounce the consonants properly. 

"New York has that effect on people. Sorry about your luck, Lucky. My name's Tiffani. With an I. 

"Nice to meet you, Tiffani with an I. And my name isn't actually Lucky. It's Ryan."

"I noticed." She nodded to the shiny nameplate on the front of his desk that had just arrived that morning. "Well Ryan Howard, VP of Northeast Sales, you are clearly a walking health hazard. What the hell are you doing here if you're sick?"

"I mean you said it yourself," he croaked. "I haven't even been here two weeks yet. It would look so bad if I called in already."

"Hmm." Before he realized what she was doing, her cool hand was pressed against his forehead. She made a soft sound in her throat, then suddenly both her hands were gently cupping his cheeks. 

"You have a fever. Poor thing," she cooed, gently running her thumbs over his cheek bones.

He sniffled wetly, then coughed. "That's no big deal. I just hate that I can't stop coughing and sneezing."

"Aww, honey. You should be in bed," she said sternly. 

"Trust me, I wish I was. But I just… I can't. Now's not the right time."

"Hmm," she said again, scrutinizing him. "If you say so. Have you eaten?"

He shrugged. "Not really. I'm not hungry. I can't taste anything, so–"

"Well that doesn't matter. You still need to eat. Wait here." 

He watched her go, feeling a little breathless from everything that had transpired in the past five minutes, snotty cold notwithstanding.

Tiffani was gone longer than he expected (though he really had no idea what to expect), so he was attempting to work once more when a box of tissues hit him in the arm, nearly making him leap out of his seat. He glanced up to find Tiffani smirking at him yet again, holding a styrofoam takeout container. 

"I said your name twice and you didn't even look up. Are you always this easy to scare?"

"No," he said sullenly. "My ears are all plugged up with everything else. And I was trying to concentrate."

"My apologies. I didn't realize you were so busy and important. Guess I'll take back the stuff I got you if you don't want it…."

He quickly pulled the desperately-needed box of tissues out of her reach. These weren't the crappy industrial office ones he'd been using either–they were the premium lotion ones. 

"No, I want it," he said quickly. "Thank you. For bringing them."

"That's only half of it." She set down the styrofoam container and pushed it toward him. "You need to eat. You'll feel better if you do."

He reached for this offering almost in spite of himself, feeling a sudden, low rumble of hunger. The container was very warm; whatever it was would feel so good on his sore throat. "Where did you get all this?"

"I had it delivered of course."

"But… why?"

"Sucking up to the new VP, why else?" 

Suddenly her hand was pressed to his forehead again, so fast he hardly saw her move. He found himself leaning into the touch almost reflexively, heavy and aching as his head was. 

She clucked her tongue. "If you're going to stay, you need to take some medicine for that fever." She produced a bottle of Tylenol and pushed it toward him with the rest. 

"You really don't need to do all this. It's just a cold." Yet he reached for the pills too, knowing her logic was sound. The next four hours would go much smoother if he was medicated. A thick, rumbling cough escaped before he could swallow the pills, making his chest and throat sear. 

"Since you've apparently caught a cold from hell, I really think I do need to do all this."

"Why, though?" he croaked again, helplessly. "We hardly know each other."

She leaned in, giving him a clear view of the cleavage he'd been trying to avoid staring at until now. When she spoke, her voice was soft and silky. "Because someone needs to take care of the new boss, and that someone might as well be me." She straightened up again, brushing her hair over her shoulder with an air of someone who knew exactly what she was doing. "I'll be keeping an eye on you today. We'll make sure you start feeling better, for all our sakes. No one is getting any work done with you coughing and sneezing in here like you have been." 

Ryan felt himself flush. "Thanks," he muttered, sniffling uncomfortably. 

She was true to her word and checked on him regularly throughout the day. He wasn't entirely sure yet what her role was in the company, but apparently it had a lot of flexibility, judging by how much she was away from her desk. And every time she came, she brought him something else–cough drops, tea, more medicine. He had to admit, she was incredibly good at predicting his needs. He survived the intervening hours in far more comfort than he would have without her help. 

Still, when the end of the day rolled around, he was the sort of utterly exhausted that only working while miserably sick can cause. Half dead on his feet, he slowly packed up to leave, and in the process he nearly crashed into Tiffani, who had snuck up on him once again and was standing beside his desk. In his foggy state he staggered and almost fell, but she caught him by the arm to steady him. 

"You really are a mess, aren't you?" she asked, worry coloring her tone. 

" 'm just sick," he mumbled, coughing wetly to prove his point. "And I didn't expect you to be standing there. What are you doing anyway?" he asked, noting that she was also dressed to leave and carrying her purse. 

"Coming to take you home."

"I'm an adult. I don't need help getting back to my apartment."

"We're not going to your apartment. We're going to mine."

She laughed at the expression on his face at this development.

"You just moved here, and you're a guy, so I'm sure at best you're sleeping on a mattress on the floor. You also probably have no food or medicine at your place yet, which is why you're as sick as you are to begin with. It makes way more sense for you to come home with me. You'll be much more comfortable."

He frowned half-heartedly, but had no argument. She had him pegged perfectly. Nothing sounded better than a real bed and a furnished apartment right now. 

Seeing she had won, she smirked. She proved her powers of observation once more when she prodded the toe of her shoe into the corner of the duffle bag peeking out from under his desk. "What's this? Gym bag?"

"Yeah. Was planning to use the gym here but…" he gestured vaguely at his red, dripping nose.

"Bring that with you, then, and let's go." She grabbed his elbow possessively. "You'll love my place. It's very cozy."

A subway ride and a short walk later, they were arriving at a section of lower-income but still decent housing hidden in the heart of the city. Ryan hardly knew the city yet, and he was too sick and tired to pay attention to where they were going, but let her lead him with gentle pushes and pulls on his arm, trying to look less contagious than he felt. He could tell his fever was creeping up by how hot his ears felt, and all he wanted to do was fall into something resembling a bed and not get up for a long time. He let her lead him into an apartment building, up a few flights of stairs, and through one of the doors off a hallway landing. 

It was a quaint little studio apartment, painted in soft, muted tones with cheerful feminine accents here and there, bright and open. The bed was immediately to the right of the door, separated from the rest of the room by cleverly placed shelving units, giving the feel of it being more than one room while a cozy sitting area dominated the rest of the space. One wall was made up almost entirely of windows, and the sunset leant a lovely, natural glow to the atmosphere. 

"You have a beautiful apartment," he rasped, getting less intelligible by the hour.

"Thank you. I've lived here for three years now. I love it."

Ryan would never be bold enough to take a stranger's bed without being asked, so he made for the large couch, kicking off his shoes and shedding his jacket as he went with another husky cough. His original plan was to sit on the couch and just breathe for a bit, and make an attempt to be good company, but the plush cushions were so comfortable that he sank sideways, almost against his will, until his face met the soft throw pillow on his right. His eyes fell closed of their own accord and he tucked his legs up as well, but he did his best to stay awake for the time being. In his current state, the wide couch felt more comfortable than any bed he'd ever slept in. Yet Tiffani didn't let him get too comfortable, and plied him with medications for the fever immediately. 

"It's been hours since your last dose and you're looking really sick again," she explained, watching as he drank a glass of water with the pills. 

"I can't say I don't feel it," he sniffled, lying back down. 

"Poor thing," she cooed. "I'm glad you can finally rest for a while.

 He listened as Tiffani puttered around putting her things away. Soft music began to play, and then he heard a sharp clicking sound. His eyes fluttered open to see her lighting a candle. At ease immediately, his lids slipped shut again. 

It seemed only a moment passed before he felt her shaking his arm, but when he opened his eyes again, she had changed clothes and showered, and her hair was in a towel. 

"You should get a shower and get out of your work clothes," she said. "You'll feel better when you're more comfortable."

He grunted his assent, his throat too sore to want to talk. He sluggishly levered himself into a sitting position, sniffling as he tried to avoid dripping on himself, then stood, grabbing his gym bag. The urge to sneeze overwhelmed him suddenly:

“Heh’KIHHPT’shoo! Hddd'TSHHHooo! Dihh'IHSHHooo!!

 He almost doubled over with the force of the messy trio. He hardly had time to cover, let alone find a tissue, so his hands were covered in slime by the end. He made a disgusted sound in his throat as he surveyed the mess.

"Bless you. Now you definitely need a shower," Tiffani laughed, unperturbed. "Go get cleaned up. Maybe it'll clear your head a bit too."

He tried to do as he was told, but just as he reached his destination another pair of sneezes snuck up on him, further soiling his hands:

“KIIHHPT-ttsscch! KHHGGT'nxxt!"

“Bless you again,” Tiffani said dutifully.

"Why is this cold getting worse instead of better?" he griped, swiping a tissue from the bathroom counter to scrub at his hands and nose as he continued to sniffle fruitlessly.  

"That's how colds work, silly," she said, rolling her eyes fondly. 

"Will this one seems to suck more than most," he mumbled, shutting the bathroom door behind him at last. 

The hot water did indeed help in many ways, from the aches to the congestion to the tiredness, and he emerged feeling marginally better, especially now that he was wearing soft workout clothes instead of a starchy shirt and pants. He managed to smile at Tiffani from the door of the bathroom, but the first breath he took of non-steamy air brought the sinus irritation roaring back, and he was forced to bury his face into the bundle of clothes in his arms as he exploded into the messiest sneezing fit yet:

Huhh’REHHSHHHoo! ESSHHHyoo! Kuh-hh-HUSSHHHoo! Huh’ISSHHoo! Hh-h… huh’KIISHHoo! Heh-hh… Hiihg’KSSHHoo!”

“BLESS you,” Tiffany said, looking startled now. “That was… intense. Do you feel better at least?”

Ryan could only shake his head as his breath started to hitch once more, eyes red and streaming already: “Hehh'dzz-IHHH'shoo! Heh'KIHHT'shoo! Kihhh'IHHTchoo! Hihh'GEHH-CHOOF!”

Tiffani frowned. “Something is setting you off. You shouldn’t be sneezing so much.”

“Mbaybe idt’s the ca’dle,” Ryan croaked, nodding to the counter where the scented flame was still flickering. “Budt those dond’t usually bother mbe….” 

Tiffani didn’t wait for him to finish and quickly snuffed out the offending flame. Meanwhile Ryan crushed a handful of tissues to his weeping nose, trying to quell the persistent tickle as he staggered his way back to the couch, feeling much worse now than he had before the shower. His head throbbed, his eyes ached, his throat seared. The brief sense of relief the shower had provided was already a faint memory. He felt distinctly foggy as Tiffani plied him with food and fussed around, trying to make him comfortable. He managed a few bites, trying to make her happy. The itching in his nose never fully subsided, though, nor did the dripping, and now his head was also stopped tight with suffocating congestion from the forceful stifling, making him feel even more puffy and achy. He found himself unable to breathe any way but through his mouth, which made him cough more, and of course he had to keep a tissue perpetually pressed to his upper lip. In short, he felt all around disgusting. Wrapped up in his own misery, he didn’t realize Tiffani was talking to him until she nudged his shoulder a while later. 

“Why are you breathing like a dying fish? You really don’t sound good.”

"Kinda feel like I'mb drowni’g," he slurred. “Cand’t breathe. Too congested.”

“I can see that,” she agreed. “Hm…” she glanced over her shoulder. “Do you want to try to get unplugged? I think sneezing might be better than whatever is happening to you right now.”

He was in no state to make decisions, but she was right, anything had to be better than this, so he nodded sluggishly, wondering what she had in mind. He didn’t have to wonder long, for in a moment she was holding a familiar candle under his nose, the same one that had just been burning. The wax still hadn’t hardened completely. 

“Take a deep breath and don’t stifle anymore. Just let it happen.”

He gave her a skeptical look, but took the warm glass jar from her. “You bedder step bagck, then. I dond’t wandt to sndeeze on you.”

She obediently crossed to the other side of the room. When she was out of range, he took a hesitant whiff, nose only inches from the wax. 

The results were instantaneous. His nostrils flared, his chest expanded and his breath gasped as he launched into the messiest, wettest sneezing fit he’d ever experienced. The congestion he’d created from stifling was apparently eager to be released, and everything came flying out at an alarming rate at the slightest provocation. He soaked through tissue after tissue as he sneezed and sneezed and sneezed, needing only a few breaths of the candle to keep himself going. 

Several minutes later he felt significantly emptier, and at last he allowed the sneezing to taper to a stop with a final, tremendous nose blow. Completely exhausted, he let his throbbing head fall back. His nose was much better, but everything else was worse. He couldn't keep from groaning, both from relief and self-pity. 

He felt the couch shift as Tiffani sat down beside him. Her cool hand on his burning face made him moan again as she brushed the damp hair from his forehead.

"Feeling better now?" she murmured. 

He made a non-committal noise. 

"Poor thing. You are so, so sick honey," she cooed. "You're absolutely burning up. You just rest now. I've got you."

Too tired to resist, when she gently pulled him to lay against her chest, he allowed it. Sitting mostly upright kept him from coughing too much, anyway. He found he was very comfortable this way, especially when he realized she was playing with his hair. In no time, lulled by her soothing touch and soothing breathing and soothing heartbeat, he was fast asleep. 

[wereshrew-admirer]

on Just Returns again and i desperately desperately want this AU - i've said it somewhere that duvall in marrow creek right after the captain would be WILD (what would the course show him????) but i hadn't caught that actually they set up the AU themselves... what if duvall found that letter and fucking BOOKED IT

[lewmagoo]

oh i completely forgot i reblogged a prompt list earlier. i’ll get on those in a bit 😅

[sesshy380]

No fever today, just some lingering muscle aches and still stuffed up sinuses. Looked over yesterday's writing, and surprisingly there was little to fix. No idea how I managed that lol

We'll see how today goes.

[noys-boise]

what if i wrote Howard the duck fanfiction.

[eyeless-smiles]

Time 2 tackle the askbox 😎

[deathxproof]

I know this is like The Only Time I’ve Begun Writing For Real on the new blog but I feel compelled to say that I cannot come close to guaranteeing any quality of writing for the next like. Week.

I’m certainly not responsible for what the Fever writes.

[queen-of-the-weenies]

Liurnia of the Lakes

You are a Tarnished. Your name holds no importance. Your only companion is a ghostly steed named Torrent, and the constant faint sensation of someone watching over you.

You wander a world where nearly everything wants to kill you, but the world is also gorgeous and full of vibrant life.

You travel through a misty lakeland area, where the water reaches no higher than your shins. There are unsettling ghouls accompanied by the delicate chime of bells; hellish giant crayfish that spit jets of water with frightening accuracy; there is even a dragon breathing bright blue flames. All are eager to tear you apart if they see you.

You have wandered for hours--days, even--and your resting places are few and far between. Exhausted, you finally find a new path and leave the shallow waters of the lake to traverse the shore. It's raining, as it has been raining since you arrived, shrouding the entire area in frigid fog. You've managed to survive this far, you just need a site of grace to rest at, lest you die and be sent back to the last one. As you climb the path, the only sound you hear is the squelch of your footsteps and the gentle woosh of rain and wind.

And then, you hear something else.

Ever so faintly, a voice drifts through the mist. You stop, because your own muted footsteps are loud enough to drown it out. You listen intently, wondering if you only imagined it. The rain pours, the wind blows, the trees rustle--no more singing. You continue forward.

The voice returns, slightly louder. You can make out the haunting melody of a song in an unfamiliar language, echoing eerily through the lonely mist. This time you do not stop. You're curious now. Where is that voice coming from? Is it another person, a Tarnished like you? Briefly, the notion of a fellow Tarnished singing so beautifully lifts your weary spirits.

The path crests over a hill, and as you come up from behind some rocks, you see it. Bats. Large, ugly creatures that screech and swoop and tear you apart... But they aren't screeching now. No, the bats are calm, resting on the ground or nesting on rocks, surrounding an unfamiliar figure. It's also a bat, but it's human-faced and pale, and it's singing the haunting melody that drew you to it in the first place. Entranced, you creep closer, crouched low and moving slowly. You want to be closer, to join the bats in their restful enjoyment of the beautiful, sad song.

And then the bats notice you, the song stops, and you get eaten alive by like ten bats all at once.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Any fancy temperature words? Like replacements for hot, cold and whatever in between

Algid - cold

Arctic - bitter cold

Ardent - fiery, hot

Balmy - mild, temperate

Blazing - of outstanding power, speed, heat, or intensity

Calenture - a fever formerly supposed to affect sailors in the tropics

Cryogenic - being or relating to very low temperatures

Decalescence - the decrease in temperature when the rate of heat absorption during transformation exceeds the rate of heat input while heating metal through a transformation range

Febrile - marked or caused by fever; feverish

Febrility - feverishness

Fervent - very hot; glowing

Fervid - very hot; burning

Frigid - intensely cold

Frore - frosty, frozen

Frosty - briskly cold; chilly

Gelid - extremely cold; icy

Glacial - extremely cold

Hibernal - of, relating to, or occurring in winter

Hyperthermic - exceptionally high fever especially when induced artificially for therapeutic purposes

Hypothermic - subnormal temperature of the body

Igneous - of, relating to, or resembling fire; fiery

Lukewarm - moderately warm; tepid

Molten - having warmth or brilliance

Pyrexia - abnormal elevation of body temperature; fever

Recalescence - the increase in temperature when the rate of heat liberation during transformation exceeds the rate of heat dissipation while cooling metal through a transformation range

Rigorous - marked by extremes of temperature or climate

Rime - frost

Scalding - hot enough to scald

Searing - very hot

Steamy - hot and humid

Tepid - moderately warm; lukewarm

Thermogenic - relating to, caused by, or inducing the production of heat

Torrid - giving off intense heat; scorching

Wintry - of, relating to, or characteristic of winter; chilly

Xerothermic - characterized by heat and dryness

Hope this helps with your writing. Do tag me, or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[pygmi-says-hi]

writing tips - sick/poisoning fics

so since you guys ate up the injury thing like holy fuck 1.5k notes in 24 hours??? hello?? I thought I'd do a semi-related one about sickness.

disclaimer because you guys thoroughly reminded me of this: medicine is fucking weird and everybody reacts differently. this is blanket statement information, not the mayo clinic. idc that 'oh my cousin had that disease and he didn't have that symptom' okay whatever like sorry but that's not the point of this post. this is just to eliminate egregious mistakes. I'm not looking into every possible way this illness will show up. chill your tits. the comments on the last post were just like. dude. chill.

aurkay so.

poison-related illness.

okay poisoning is such a cool concept and there are literally so many cool effects it can have. Idk why everyone goes with the holy trinity of hallucinations, fainting and nausea. like yeah those are good but there are so many other things???

like internal bleeding. literally the best. I love it. It's slow but hella deadly and sometimes people can't even feel it/don't know what's happening. that's such a great option for whump or some angst. like they didn't know until it was too late. gold.

also - some poisons are not dissolvable in food or drink. Like certain medicines, they lose effectiveness if digested instead of injected intravenously. obviously you don't have to know that but if you wanna get into it, do a lil bit of research. could bring up some intriguing scenarios.

infection or sepsis

yoooo. sepsis is lowkey terrifying. infections are similar to actual illness but are caused because of an unsanitary wound. lots of interesting symptoms to browse here:

fever, cramps, fainting, hallucinations, dehydration, delirium, nausea, sores, sepsis, organ failure and on and on and on.

infection happens so fast too. like forget to change a bandage once and boom it could be infected. (is that a whump opportunity I hear...?)

sepsis is like the point of no return pretty much. Unless you've got crazy medical technology, sepsis is really really bad. basically, it's when the body overreacts and starts to damage its own tissue. leading to organ failure and then eventually death. spooky.

regular illness

this just means like a virus or something. a key point of viruses is an elevated temperature and dehydration; the body's primary responses. burn the bug out and dehydrate it.

depending on the illness, symptoms will vary. respiratory infections or viruses involve congestion, coughing, sore throats, a rattly breathing sound, and productive coughing (phlegm and mucus). Stomach illnesses include cramps, nausea, dehydration, dizziness, low blood sugar, weight loss, and diarrhea. these can overlap but mostly those are the groupings.

with fevers come achy joints and sensitive skin. fever is inflammation, like mild swelling everywhere because of how intense the antibody reaction is.

dehydration sets in really quick. really bad dehydration induces dizziness, nausea, diarrhea, delirium, lethargy, and fainting. great motivation for a whumper to possibly restrict whumpee's water intake...?

just some prompts! kinda low energy today sorry I haven't been posting, xox

[teine-mallaichte]

We need to expand our use of dilirium within the whump community I think.

When people see the prompt "dilirium" or "dilirious" in a whump event most jump to fever, illness, infection. And that's fine. That's valid. But there is SO MUCH MORE to dilirium.

Delirium is a complex psychological state that can indeed be triggered by illness and fever, but it can also result from a wide array of other causes. It’s a state where cognition and coherence deteriorate, where reality may start to frey at the edges leaving the whumpee confused, disorientated, maybe unable to even distinguish reality.

You can drive a character into a dilirious state without any external factors. A characters cognition and coherence can be picked to the brink by so many things.

1. Extreme Sleep Deprivation: this is a favourite of mine. A whumpee kept awake for days on end, their cognitive functions begin to deteriorate, the boundary between wakefulness and sleep blurs, leading to fractured and disjointed thought processes. The mind starts to struggle to maintain coherence, resulting in hallucinations and a profound disorientation.

2. Substance Withdrawal: Not one I've explored much, but can totally count. The body and mind in chaos, craving what they can no longer have. The physical symptoms can be brutal, but the psychological torment can drive them into a state of delirium, where reality becomes a shifting, unreliable landscape.

3. Psychological Torture: Another one I tend to gravitate to. Intense psychological manipulation, sensory deprivation or overwhelm can also drive the mind into delirium. Continuous gaslighting, isolation, or exposure to disturbing stimuli can erode a characters grasp on reality, leading to a state where they can no longer distinguish between truth and illusion.

4. Emotional Trauma: this a mental breakdown. Severe emotional trauma pushing a whumpee into a to their mental limits. The overwhelming stress and fear fracturing their mind, causing confusion, disorientation, dissociation, hallucinations as their psyche tries to protect itself and struggles to make sweetheart if what's happened/happening.

5. Overwhelming Physical Pain: Pain, just pain, if relentless and severe enough, can lead to delirium. A whumpee in constant, excruciating pain might find their mind breaking under the strain, leading to confusion, disorientation, and a detachment from reality.

6. Fever: and just because it can't really be left of the list, fever. Infections, illness, etc. But did you know there is more than one kind of dilirium? Yes there is the sick whumpee who is too weak too most and admits all their insecurities and secrets in a slurred disjointed major. But there is also the type of dilirium where the character becomes energetic, erratic behavior, pacing incessantly and speaking rapidly, refusing to rest. Frustrating and worrying for those trying to help.

And this is just the ones of the top of my head. There's so much potential here! And yes this is a very self indulgent and selfish post that I wrote while writing a fic where I am inducing dilirium in a character through acute stress and an identity crisis 😅 but in short - I want to see more varied portrayals of dilirium in whump.

An extension of this post A similar post about hallucinations A similar post about fever