#have the sickfic i decided to write as projection lol

[psychicthepsychic-daily]

confirmation bias, and other fallacies

(Friday Night Funkin')

Words: 759

Summary:

Girlfriend's sick in bed after some (heavily implied) poor decisions she and Boyfriend made on a date. Psychic is left to tend to her and try to understand where she's coming from, when she says this is the boy in whose hands she'd put her life.

i did not mean for this to get so long oops- also i am indeed in the process of finishing the Aldryx birthday fic! i've just been super busy and hit with a bad case of writer's block! apologies for the delay and i'll be sure to get it out as soon as i can!

Psyfic taglist: @y010isaghost, @s0methingmoonlit, @flurriethefox, @hoodiehydra

Let me know if you'd like to be added to/removed from the taglist!

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"Sit up straight," Psychic cautions as he sets a tray of bread and tomato soup on the blanket between them, taking a seat on the edge of Girlfriend's bed and letting her disentangle herself from the sheets.

She sneezes. Sneezes again. "Thanks, Psyche," she smiles before sneezing a third time, and that somehow makes the last few hours looking after her worth it. Girlfriend reaches for the spoon and takes a slurp of the soup. "This is nice."

"That's good to hear," he says, tracing the stitching in her maroon comforter. "Next time, don't run the entire perimeter of Newgrounds immediately after swimming in a frozen lake." He can't stop a little bit of snark from entering his tone, even with her.

"It was an accident," Girlfriend mutters defensively. "I already told you that. And I made it out fine. Boyfriend was there to help me."

Boyfriend. Always Boyfriend was there and Boyfriend saved me and Boyfriend was so brave for my sake. Has she forgotten the eighteen years her parents, Psychic spent protecting her, teaching her to protect herself? Scorned, worthless, gone? She's lucky her parents aren't home to hear her.

"It still shouldn't have happened to begin with," Psychic narrows his eyes at her but keeps his tone calm. "And he may have been there this time, but what if someday something does happen and he's not? What if there's nothing he can do? You have to be more careful, Girlfriend. You have to be able to look out for yourself."

She scoffs, blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes and sniffing a little. Psychic gives her the tissue box. "I can," she grumbles, blowing her nose and dropping a wad of Kleenex into the bin by her bed. "I'm not helpless just because he's around to help me, Psychic. I'm just safer because of him. I can rely on him, that doesn't make me weak. I thought you would understand that..." She takes another, smaller sip of soup and stuffs a slice of bread in her mouth, avoiding his gaze. A small, hurt frown creases her face.

Guilt creeps up on Psychic again, frustratingly enough, where it never used to. It's not his place to lecture her.

I wasn't lecturing her, I was only expressing my concerns over her safety and his recklessness—

It's not his place.

That should be enough for him. Boyfriend was there and he wasn't, big deal. Girlfriend is safe, albeit with a fever and cold that she'll recover from overnight. She's a good kid. A strong kid.

She has someone to look out for her now, without the inherent judgement her family has, including him. Psychic's aware of that. Having been around since before her birth, there's no way his devotion hasn't distorted his own view of her. How to protect her. And everyone deserves someone to trust, outside of that echo chamber of assumptions and expectations.

Just because it's Boyfriend doesn't make that any less true. She's right, Psychic of all people should understand.

"I'm sorry." Girlfriend's always preferred for him to say it outright, not hide his feelings behind formalities and language her father would use. "I shouldn't doubt you. I do understand, Girlfriend. But please... remember to stay safe. Both of you. I'm glad things are getting better for you, but it's up to you to keep it that way."

She gives him a tentative grin. "It's okay, Psyche. Does that—" She sneezes. "Does that mean you called Boyfriend?"

Psychic rolls his eyes. "Of course I did." Boyfriend was out of his apartment and dashing across the city before Psychic had a chance to hang up. Possibly the only respectable thing that shrimp's ever done. "He's on his way. Finish your food, Girlfriend. I'll make you some tea."

When she's done, Psychic reaches out with his telekinesis and lifts her tray. "Get some rest," he encourages softly, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. Her forehead is still warm. Psychic lets his magic soothe some of her discomfort. "Your boyfriend will be here soon. I'll come back with your tea in a minute."

He switches off the ceiling light as he leaves but her bedside lamp continues to glow as she snuggles deeper within the covers. She's already asleep by the time he comes back.

Psychic doesn't wake her; the girl needs her rest. He leaves her tea on the nightstand to warm again later, and remains outside her room, resolute to keep her safe and comforted, no matter who he shares that role with now.

[combeferres-mothematics]

ANOTHER fic question hehehehe....im so interested in ur Joly sick fic actually....did he manage to diagnose himself!! Did no one believe him until he actually started showing clear symptoms and he was like "I told you so!! 🤮🤮"....and...is he gonna get better? 🥺

LKJAFSKJHLSLFHALKJFHSAGLK OKAY YOU'RE GONNA BE IN FOR A RIDE. I have not only one, but multiple (this remains to be known how many) Joly sickfics XD

Once again below a cut because... I'm scared of how many I'm going to find in my drafts- (Sickfics mayyy be my favorite thing to write)

Even the Darkest Nights will End (I shortened the title significantly here lmao) - The one I talk about the most, and thought was ALMOST done... almost 2k words ago... (Enjolras, Joly, and Grantaire are now bothering Combeferre for stickers, so idek what's happening anymore) The summery is quite old, I think I wrote it 300 words in, and with a 103 degree fever (which is how this whole fic started tbh) XD This has also been one of my pet projects since... uhh... january? so there's a LOT of lore

It starts out with him just sitting in bed trying (keyword trying) to sleep, he's already very clearly ill, He's already home tested himself for several different things, and they all came back negative, so he's very adamantly trying to convince himself that it's just a cold, nothing worse. He's banished Bossuet to a different bed in hopes that he won't get sick (He will. It's inevitable, they share EVERYTHING), and he's feeling very lonely :((

And I've noticed, at least in my experience, that anxiety about these things is SO MUCH worse when it's the middle of the night, and everyone's asleep, and you don't want to wake anyone up to talk you down from thinking it's worse than it really is. This is the really angsty part of the fic if you can't tell already XD

Plus, a little snippet, I don't think I've shared anywhere yet! (do be warned mentions of worrying about throwing up)

Enter Enjolras: He's working late, and when he sees Joly he's very worried he's getting a lecture on healthy sleep habits (I say as if I know what good sleep habits are) And then as soon as he sees that Joly's been crying he instantly launches into "Oh shit my friend is anxious time to fuss over them" mode"

He and Joly proceed to have a very nice conversation that was surprisingly theraputic to write (I may have projected just a tad), and then Enj decides he's going to get Joly a little something small to eat. at 4am. Leading to one of my favorite scenes here XD

And now we have Combeferre!! :D And Joly's feeling a bit more cheerful now that he's not alone, left to stew in his anxiety.

I forgot I wrote this, but now I'm cackling over the mental image of lost duckling Enjy

Combeferre quickly banishes Enjolras because he's hovering, and things get angsty for a minute again (NOT RELATED TO THE BANISHMENT OF ENJ)

And here's Enjolras being autistic about the way Ferre's clothes smell :)

And then everything is good again, and Joly and Enj manage to convince Ferre to give them a sticker (And then Grantaire comes in to be like "If you give me a sticker too, I won't tell any of the others you gave out stickers")

And that's where this one ends off, so far lol. Joly does in fact get better in this one :D

AND THEN WE HAVE THIS ONE :D (don't mind the title or summery, I started it after being awake for 30+ hours)

This one is nowhere near as developed as ETDNWE, but it's a Everyone Lives, No One Dies au set in canon era, about ehhhhhh, maybe 3-5 months after the barricades? I'm still researching when Cholera ended there, and I think I found that there was another, very small jump in cases around Nov. 1832 (where all of them died), but don't quote me on that, I haven't looked at those sources in a while, so I could be misremembering.

Joly ofc is very nervous when the symptoms here start, since.. Cholera. But Bossuet keeps trying to gently assure him it's going to be alright/maybe it's just anxiety

But then things are worse by morning, and Joly scares the absolute Crap out of Bossuet by refusing to tell him what he thinks he has. He KNOWS. what it is though, he's seen it enough times for there to be no mistake whatsoever.

And Bossuet proceeds to leave the house before even getting dressed (Though he does grab his hat on the way out) And heads to go to the house on Rue Plumet to find Enjolras, who ofc will know where Combeferre is, cutting down the search time significantly.

(This is indeed and Enjosette siblings au as well)

And that's about as far as I've plotted for that one. and as for if Joly will be alright... >:3 We will see. *ominous voice*

Ty for the ask!! :D I always love discussing the sickfics XD, and now I'm very workpilled for both of them, so we'll see how that goes-

[lazyfox411]

happy birthday keith: a sickfic

so a little while ago, I put out a post asking for suggestions on what to write for keiths birthday. @radiofreekerberos suggested shiro throw keith a surprise party (thank you sm btw), and I tried a lot of different ideas but nothing was coming lol so went to my default which is sicfics. and even then here I present the worst thing ive ever written :P

but the only way i wouldnt write for my boys birthday is if i was dead. 

Fall was a pretty good season. Pretty colours, Halloween, pumpkin spice everything, perfect jacket and scarf weather—usually. Today, Keith had realized too late, was perfect raincoat and boots weather.

He shivered, pulling his sweater tighter around his shoulders. He was already miserable, and now this. Granted, it was just a light rain, but he had also been plagued with a persistent case of the sniffles. After sneezing and shaking all day, suffering through school and work like a braindead zombie, Keith was more than ready to go home and rest, rain be damned.

When he had clocked out of work, he'd felt a nagging in the back of his mind, like he'd been forgetting to do something. But he'd done everything he was supposed to, hadn't he? Clean the tables, sweep the floors, empty the register, lock up. That was it. He'd done it all. Maybe he just felt off because he wasn’t usually the one to lock up he diner. It was Hunk’s diner, and he was usually the last one out, so naturally the one to lock up everyday. But today he'd left Keith in charge for the last hour before closing time, claiming he had some sort of important business to take care of. He refused to say what this business was, which was odd because Hunk usually never kept secrets. It was pretty much physically impossible for him, and even today he'd looked like he was about to burst.

It was odd, Keith thought, Hunk had been avoiding him most of the day. Unlike the odd feeling of a forgotten obligation.

Keith checked his bag. He went over all his possessions, taking inventory. Textbooks, work clothes, pencils and papers. A few assignments his professor had handed back today. Keith was actually pretty proud of those; they’d gotten good marks. Maybe he was forgetting an upcoming college project. He checked his phone, but there were no reminders.

After coming up emptyhanded, he decided to push away the feeling and just focus on getting warm. The rain was freezing, and his teeth were chattering, nose running, fingers numb. He wasn’t sure if it was raining harder now, and that was why he couldn’t see, or if his vision was just going blurry because he was exhausted. He didn't care. He just wanted to be home, in bed. His clothes were soaked now, and his shoes pooled with water wherever he stepped, squelching on the pavement.

There were about two blocks to go until he would be home. Keith tried to focus on that. He plodded along, head down, trying and failing to avoid all the puddles. When he looked up to cross the street, his body couldn’t keep up with his eyes, and the world started spinning much too fast and he was stumbling out into the street.

A flash of headlights and the too-loud sound of a horn, the screech of brakes. The car slammed to a halt just feet away, spraying Keith in a shower of dirty puddle water. The driver screamed at him, but Keith couldn’t make out what was being said over the torrential downpour and the ringing of his ears. He scurried out of the road, trembling even harder because now not only was he freezing, but holy shit he'd almost been hit by a car.

The apartment door was locked. Shiro must not be home, Keith figured. He liked sharing an apartment with Shiro. It was easier on rent, and it was nice to not be alone. Keith had been alone a lot, and while he did like his solitude, Shiro had made him realize that being all alone all the time wasn’t all that great. Keith clumsily wiped the water from his face as he searched for his keys, and he didn't want to admit it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if a few tears had been wiped with it, because now he was thinking about a little raven-haired kid, all alone on the streets, no idea who his mother was, no clue where his father went, scared and hungry and tired and ready to give up. Until Shiro had taken him in and given him a real family, for the first time.

Keith finally found his keys, and as he slid them into the lock he was silently berating himself for getting so emotional all of a sudden. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he get a grip? And why was he so cold? Pointless questions swirled in his mind, and the more he thought, the worse it got, until he found the strength to grip the door handle. At least he was pretty sure he did, he still couldn’t feel his fingers, all he wanted to do was get inside and go to bed, but there was still the feeling he'd forgotten something and not knowing was making him feel sick to his stomach—

“SURPRISE!!!”

Keith nearly toppled over backwards from the sheer force of the six voices all screaming in unison. He blinked, trying to take in the scene in front of him. Shiro, Hunk, Lance, Pidge, Allura and Coran were positioned around the room, wearing pointed paper hats and cheering and throwing streamers. Pidge had three kazoos sticking out of her mouth and was violently blowing out a tune that sounded oddly similar to “Here Comes the Bride,” and she was spread out like a starfish, holding a sparkly happy birthday banner that was nearly as big as her. Evidently it had been made by Lance, who was covered head to toe in glitter and waving around a bunch of balloons. Hunk stood behind the kitchen table in front of a cake. The yellow headband he always wore had been replaced by a weave of ribbons.

“Happy birthday, Keith!” Lance shouted. Keith just stared at him.

“You didn't forget your own birthday, did you?” Shiro asked. He had a large red gift box held in his arms.

Keith blinked again. He could see Allura and Coran out of the corner of his eye. Coran had his hands held behind his back. Allura’s were pulled up under her chin, excitedly awaiting Keith's reaction.

Keith continued to stare. The room fell silent. The banner drooped. The gift was set down. The balloons stilled. Keith just stared, at his friends, the decorations, the cake. It was too much. Too much noise, too many sparkles, too many people. Too much for his rain-soaked, pounding head to compute all at once.

He felt his face grow hot. His knees went weak, and he sunk to the floor, and before he could stop himself, he was sobbing.

He didn't process what was being said, but he heard voices, words. They sounded worried.

“Oh, dear.” Allura.

“Perhaps we surprised him too much.” Coran.

“Aw, gee, man, you walked all that way without an umbrella?” Lance.

“Guys, he doesn’t look so good.” Hunk.

Keith felt a pair of tiny hands gently finding his wrists, and he curled his fingers around them. Through a haze of tears, he saw light glinting off Pidge’s glasses. “Hey, Keith, what’s the matter?”

“I-I-I-I’m-I’m ss-sorry,” Keith cried. He wiped furiously at his eyes, fists stilled balled up with Pidge’s teeny little fingers. He could barely talk, his throat felt so tight. How could his face fell so hot when the rest of him was freezing cold?

“Hey, it’s okay, Keith, it’s okay.” Keith felt a strong, warm hand on his back, and he leaned towards it, into Hunk. Hunk was warm, and it helped ease Keith's shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Keith repeated.

Shiro looked down at him thoughtfully. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…don’t feel very well.”

Suddenly there was a hand brushing his bangs from his forehead, blessedly cool on his too-hot face. Keith sighed in relief as Shiro moved closer and shifted the hand to cup his cheek, and press against his brow.

“He’s burning up,” Shiro said. Keith got the feeling Shiro wasn’t talking to him anymore, because everyone else seemed to jolt to attention.

“You mean he’s sick?” Lance asked worriedly.

“Aw, Keith, why didn't you say anything?” Hunk frowned.

“Didn't give me much of a chance,” Keith mumbled, chasing the last traces of tears from his face. He was still shivering.

Shiro wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him to his feet. “Let’s get you some dry clothes, huh?”

Keith nodded, and before he could protest Shiro was scooping him up off the ground. There wasn’t really any sense in trying to wriggle free now, Keith figured, was there? He coughed wetly, congestion settling in his lungs. He really should have taken an umbrella.

“We’re terribly sorry, Keith,” Allura said softly. “We thought a surprise party might be a good way to celebrate your birthday. I see now we were wrong.”

Keith shook his head lightly, managing a soft smile. “It’s okay, Allura.”

“Is there anything I can do? Perhaps Coran and I could run to the drugstore to get you some medicine?”

“Ye—” Keith was cut short by a harsh coughing fit.

“That would be great,” Shiro answered for him.

Shiro brought him to his room, helped him towel off his hair, and found him some dry pyjamas. Keith changed, and crawled into bed. The soft enclosure of blankets made him sleepy, and he vaguely thought that this was the most content he'd felt all day.

“You do know it’s your birthday today, right?” Shiro sat next to him on the bed.

“I, uh…might have forgot.”

Shiro sighed. “I’m really sorry, Keith. This whole surprise party was my idea. I know we never really did anything for your birthday other years, but this year I thought you might enjoy it. I'm sorry I've ruined your special day.”

“Shiro, you didn't ruin anything. I'm sorry I messed it all up by getting sick. I—" Before he could say anything more, there was a knock at the door, and Lance, Hunk, and Pidge appeared. Hunk held a steaming mug of tea in his hands, which Keith accepted gratefully.

“How do you feel now?” Lance asked. He sat on Keith's other side.

Keith decided to just be honest. He'd probably already made a fool of himself anyway. “I feel cold.” The rain had somehow seeped into his bones, and now he was chilled all the way through. Shiro put an arm around his shoulders and rubbed the goosebumps that dotted Keith's bicep. Lance found his way to Keith's side, and Pidge spread herself over his legs. Keith felt their warmth, their love and support, and he was pretty sure it was the best birthday present he had ever received. He told them as much.

“Oh, speaking of presents,” Hunk jumped up, “you still haven’t gotten to open yours.” He ducked out of the room and returned moments later with the red box. “From all of us,” he said.

Keith inspected it closely. Nobody had ever really given him a birthday present before, other than Shiro, and that had always been something like a candy bar, or a pair of socks. Not that Shiro didn't care, of course, he just knew that Keith didn't like making a big deal over things like that. This year was different, though. Keith had begun to come out of his shell, and Shiro had noticed, or else he wouldn’t be surrounded by all his closest friends right now.

Keith tentatively tore at the paper.

“Come on, dude, don’t be scared,” Lance grinned. “It isn’t gonna hurt you.”

Keith ripped the rest off, and opened the box. From the folds of tissue paper inside, he produced a thick, leather-bound book.

“Open it, “Shiro encouraged.

Keith flipped open the cover. The paper inside was a warm, off-white colour, thick and grainy. Each of his friends’ signatures were scrawled around the page, around a photo of the seven of them laughing and making silly faces. It was a scrapbook.

He turned the page, nervous under his friends’ expectant eyes. This page was filled with more photos, candid shots of playing video games with Pidge and Lance, him and Hunk with frosting on their noses, Shiro spraying them all with the hose, selfies in bathroom mirrors, sitting at coffee shops, walking down trails. Keith kept turning pages, a smile creeping up his face as he remembered all the days these pictures had been taken. There were other things, too, a movie ticket, a receipt from the hospital when Keith had broken his arm, a fallen leaf from the national park. There was so much, but all of it had one thing in common: every photo, every memory, was of a time when Keith and his friends had all been together.

“Wow, guys, I…I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“We’re glad you like it,” Hunk smiled.

“And look,” Pidge’s eyes glowed as she thumbed through the remaining pages, “we left you some blank ones, so that you can add your own stuff.”

Keith couldn’t help the dumb grin that was splitting his face. “Thank you,” he repeated. “I can't believe you guys did all this for me. I'm just so sorry I messed it all up.”

“No way,” Shiro said. He tightened his grip around Keith's shoulder. “You didn't ruin anything. We’re sorry we forced this onto you.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, this is one birthday I'm sure to never forget,” Keith said. It was true. Not because he was sick, not because he'd burst into tears—though that would probably haunt him for some time—but because this birthday had been spent with people he cared about. And they, in turn, cared about him. Keith rested his head on Shiro's chest and let his eyes flutter shut. He felt Lance's breathing even out next to him, Pidge on his legs, and Hunk’s warmth by his feet.

By the time Allura and Coran returned with the medicine, the five of them were all asleep.