#i'm responding to this sleepy and sicky

[bloodcrave]

" you are clearly no mere rivvil (human). You do not carry yourself as they do. You radiate z'ress power and strength that much is clear. What are you? " ;; minthara to alina

"WOW, you just go for it, huh? you know you could like. at least introduce yourself. give a little hello. ask me how my day's going... just going to go STRAIGHT at it." though tongue clicked, there edged humor to the demon's voice, and the glitter of blue depths seemed flecked with golden intrigue. lips curled into a faint smile, leaning back within the seat she lounged. her fingers danced a feather amongst them, spinning almost like one might a coin. e n t i c i n g dance, hypnotizing... though not literally. her magic didn't specialize in control. her mother might have endeavored in such powers, but alina's interest had never contemplated such. instead, the item would come to a still, and canted head sent locked of blonde drifting to the wayside. "what's it matter to you, anyways? what will my answer influence? i don't really intend to have anything sharp coming aimed at my chest if you know what i mean." not that such a threat would mean much to her. there was ways to kill her but a blow to the heart would be one of the t r i c k i e r options. providing the proper solution wasn't going to come from her lips, however. so she baited, curious. "but i'm definitely not rivvil."

@spiderscorned

[caspersickfanfics]

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Warnings: Vomiting, amnesia, mentions of other symptoms including headaches/brain fog/passing out, mentions of blood, speculated poisoning, trauma response

A/N: Yeah so... this is none of the WIPs I've been working on for months, actually, but I just Needed to get something done this weekend, so. Here we are. I have Ideas for a part 2 for this and if you read closely you might be able to pick up on some intentional loose ends but also I'd feel irresponsible adding to my WIP list at this point. We'll see. Anyway, this is for @monthofsick day 21: Sleepy Sickie

It’s the dead of night, amidst a humid summer heat, when Cyno shows up at Tighnari’s doorstep, feverish and ill. He’s trembling all over, downtrodden, and exhausted. His hair is sweat damp, his face marred by tear tracks, just barely visible in the lamplight.

Tighnari guides him inside. He has Cyno sit, and then wordlessly checks that his body is in one piece. For the most part, yes, it is, but he makes quick work bandaging a dozen or so surface level wounds. By the time he’s done, the matra has dozed off, slumped back against the chair with his head lolling on his chest. Tighnari wants him to rest, but worries about his fever and gently wakes him to gather more information.

“Hey,” Tighnari says quietly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Tighnari?”

“Mhm.”

There’s a flash of panic across his face, and Cyno’s muscles tighten. Responding immediately, Tighnari places a firm hand on his chest, and while Cyno stops struggling to stand, the tension doesn’t fade, his eyes searching Tighnari’s face. Tighnari feels his brow furrow when Cyno asks, “Where are we?”

“We’re at home,” he states. His voice is masked with a carefully curated calm. He can feel Cyno’s heart rushing far too quickly under his hand. “We’re safe.”

Cyno looks completely lost, but after checking and double checking his surroundings - as if he doesn’t believe his eyes - slowly relaxes. He still looks off-kilter.

Tighnari’s unease heightens. “You don’t remember why you came here?”

The matra’s face scrunches up, confused and distressed. “I don’t even remember coming here,” he mumbles. He hardly sounds like himself, voice even lower than usual, words slightly slurred. A shiver runs through him.

“It’s alright,” Tighnari reassures. “Let’s not worry about that. If I give you a list of possible symptoms, can you let me know which ones you’re experiencing, or if I'm missing any?”

Cyno agrees with a nod, and proceeds to respond to the rest of Tighnari’s questioning in a similar fashion. Headache, muscle pain, stomach ache, nausea, hot flashes, shivering, weakness, lightheadedness, fatigue, brain fog… Tighnari clocks the silent but affirmative responses to each item on the list with a growing sense of dread.

“You don’t remember if you ate anything suspicious recently, do you?”

“Don’t know.” It’s clear he’s running out of energy. When his head dips forward, Tighnari cups Cyno’s cheek in his hand. “Wanna sleep, Nari.”

Again, Tighnari wants to let him sleep, but Cyno’s needs take priority. “Not yet. Stay awake for me, love - can you do that?” 

Cyno sniffles sadly, but his eyes remain open, if glazed. They’re certainly bloodshot.

Tighnari cleans him up. He hopes to help ground him. Sometimes Cyno needs time to settle in a given location, and things like a warm bath can help.

It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference this time, but at least he’s no longer covered in mud and blood and… well, the sweat reappears quickly enough. Cyno all but falls into the bed, sending his partner a look of utter betrayal when Tighnari guides him to sit rather than lying down right away. He smiles in apology and squeezes Cyno’s hand. “Just a bit longer, hm? You’re doing so well.”

When Tighnari offers him water, though, any color left in Cyno’s face drains in an instant, and the next, he’s pitching forward with a retch.

“Oh–” Tighnari quickly steps back, sets the glass on a table, and helps Cyno over the edge of the bed. Nothing comes up, and it’s just strands of saliva dripping to the ground, but he heaves again and again. There’s a strangled noise, like he’s trying to speak. Tighnari tries to quiet him.

“Shhh, Cyno. Settle. It’s okay.”

“I— hurrrrgh!” His body is relentless, abdomen clenching in a cruel attempt to expel something that simply isn’t there. He groans.

“I can’t,” Cyno grates out. It hurts him to do, and he’s thrown into a violent coughing fit that devolves into more heaving and more pain. He’s shaking horribly.

“It’s okay,” Tighnari repeats. He'd do just about anything to make this stop, and yet, the only thing to do is wait it out. “Oh, Cyno… just breathe.”

When he finally regains control of himself, Cyno is gutted in a way that he can’t put words to. Instead, he takes a deep breath, and releases a single sob. Tears stream down his face - and he doesn’t understand why. Tighnari is alarmed, checking him again for injury, asking about whether he’s hurt himself internally. He shakes his head and pushes Tighnari's hands away, because there's nothing they can do to fix this.

“Need to sleep,” he moans, and it’s desperate. His stomach is going to start revolting again if he stays awake much longer, or maybe he’ll simply pass out. And he craves sleep. So, so badly. After a moment, Tighnari nods.

“That's alright, love. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

–––

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[jurassicsickfics]

I'm always a sucker for your Halloween sickfics, hardened caretaker Laurie makes me so so happy

Ok! Your wish is my command!

I'm using Annie Brackett as the sickie, even though she was killed in the first movie, I know their ages don't make sense as occurring at the same time but older, hardened soldier Laurie and teenage Annie is a combination I find adorable and I hope you agree. Enjoy!

It was a stormy night in Haddonfield; pitch black with occasional bolts of lightning illuminating the sleepy suburban streets. Laurie was seated at the kitchen table, sporting a teal tank top and leggings as she cleaned her rifle. It wasn't like it needed it, she cleaned it all the time, but, she needed some way to hide how worried she was, so, she opted for cleaning the weapon.

On the couch, bundled under blankets with a cold cloth on her head, was Annie. Her curly dark hair the only thing that proved there was more than just a pile of blankets on the couch. She hadn't felt quite right for some time, ever since about noon. She felt cold and hot at the same time and her stomach felt funny, but she couldn't really place the feeling, or label it. As Laurie finished pampering her beloved gun, she put it back in the rack and went to check on Annie.

"How are we feeling over here?" She asked, her husky voice tinged with sympathy. Annie shrugged.

"Ok I guess...Hey, um, Laurie?"

Laurie turned to her, "hm?"

"I know you're not much of a cuddler but...um...can you hold me for a while?" Annie asked, her voice sheepish as she hid her face in the covers.

Laurie gave a small smile, "of course. " She responded.

Laurie laid down next to Annie, and Annie scooted over to lay on top of her. Laurie squirmed into a more comfortable position under the smaller girl's weight, but quickly settled and laid her head back on the arm of the couch.

Annie sighed, her belly gurgling against Laurie's, as if calling for help. She was shaking a bit, and she buried her face in Laurie's chest. She didn't feel right at all, but she just couldn't figure out what exactly she was feeling.

Laurie gave Annie a series of back pats as she flipped through channels on the TV. The older woman wasn't really paying attention, until she heard a strangled whine come from Annie.

"You ok?" The older woman asked, running her fingers through Annie's hair.

"I-I don't know..." Annie replied, her voice shaky.

"What do you mean you don't know? Are you hurting?"

"I...Laurie..." Annie was crying now, her face a mask of pure misery and an awful feeling that she couldn't get a grasp on.

Laurie's expression softened greatly from her usual bravado, and turned to more of a motherly look. "Oh Annie, it's ok, just take deep breaths."

"Laurie... I don't feel...hrk..."

Laurie's eyes widened a bit, "Annie, honey do you need to-"

It was too late. By the time Annie realized what was happening she was throwing up down Laurie's front.

Laurie cringed, but, more from sympathy than disgust as she sat up, making a bowl with the bottom of her shirt in attempt to contain the mess. Annie stayed put, as she wasn't about to leave the comfort of her friend's lap, especially not right now. But Laurie didn't mind, she just held the shirt-bowl in place until Annie had finished emptying her upset stomach.

"I-I'm...*cough* So...sorry..." Annie sobbed.

"Don't worry about it, it's not your fault. " Laurie crooned in the softest voice she could muster.

As Annie coughed up the last of the stomach acid, her entire body relaxed.

"Mmm...Oh that feels so much better..." she breathed.

Laurie gave her a soft smile. "Good, I figured you'd feel better if you puked." She said.

Annie sighed, and gave Laurie an apologetic smile, "sorry about that..."

Laurie kissed her forehead in a loving, motherly way that she hardly ever showed. "It's fine, Annie. Really. You just go get yourself cleaned up, and I'll do the same, then we'll watch a movie, ok?"

Annie nodded. "You're the best, Laurie."