#my immune system is weak right now

[hsslilly-blog]

anyway i’ve had these weird allergies for like a week now and i’m itching all the time and i fear it’s terminal. it’s not but who knows.

[otakubimbo]

Sick Days

Sylus x MC!Reader

Sylus couldn't get in contact with you and he knew that being a hunter was a dangerous job but what you had wasn't an injury to your body per say. It was an injury to your immune system. AKA Sylus taking care of you when you're very very sick

OB: Hi I started writing this while i had covid back in august and I'm working on clearing out all of my old fic drafts so bear with me on any other updates

masterlist

A groan escapes your lips as you forcefully peel your eyes open. Your throat hurts, your head hurts, your body hurts, everything hurts. It took you a bit to register that the banging wasn’t in your head, but it was at your front door. Every cell in your body screaming at you to stay in your bed, but the knocking just wouldn’t stop.

As you sit up out of bed, your head immediately spins from the sudden motion.

“Fuck,” you attempt to steady yourself before fully getting out of bed, but it was hard. You tried to take a deep breath but that just caused you to have a coughing fit. The burn in your throat and chest is almost unbearable. The toll of whatever sickness you had had a harsher effect on your body than you thought. Initially, you assumed you could have just slept off whatever it was but now you were so sure.

Slowly, you struggle your way to the front door, blanket securely wrapped around you since you were freezing. Eventually, you get your door open as you glare at a well-dressed chest, your eyes racking up to see the owner of said chest. It was, of course, Sylus.

“Well, hello there, kitten. Nice to finally see you.” He smirks down at you for just a moment before noticing the state you were in, gently pushing you back to enter your space, closing the door behind him.

“What are you doing here Sylus?” You ask, your voice is scratchy and hoarse.  Sylus brow creases as he gives you a once over.

“Mephesto claims you haven’t left your house in two days, and you haven’t been answering my messages or phone calls.” He says as he raises a hand to your forehead to gauge your temperature. You swat his hand away as you realize what he was saying. Two days? You haven’t left for two days??? You were just at work yesterday when you got sent home, right? Holding your hand out, you request him to hand you his phone which he does with no complaint. Ignoring the picture of the two of you as his lock screen and notice that in fact it had been two entire days since you had been home. You shove his phone back into his hand and shuffle back to your room to look for your phone. There it sat on your nightstand, still on the charger, opening it up to see several messages and missed calls from Sylus of course but some from Luke and Kieran, a few from Jenna and Tara telling you to get well soon, along with a few from Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne.

“I-“ you stutter as you sit down on your bed, “ I guess I’ve been in and out of sleep this whole time.” You say with a frown, attempting to rub the pain out of your head. As you go through the numerous texts, a coughing fit erupts making Sylus run over to rub your back. He tries to soothe you as your fit dies, rubbing your back gently as you calm down, taking the blanket from around you, pushing you to lay down and tucking you in. You hadn’t even realized that you were truly TUCKED in until Sylus is running a hand over your cheek and you can’t move.

“Let me out Sylus” You struggle from how tightly he tucked you in, but you didn’t have any real strength in you to get out.

“No can do, kitten. You’re sick and I’ll just have to take care of you.” He puts his hand on your forehead to truly check your temperature. You were burning up and it took everything in Sylus to keep a neutral face, he was worried about you. He had originally thought, you had just buried yourself in work again but seeing you in this state does something to his heart that he doesn’t like. You were such a strong woman and now where you were, weak and frail and not from any wanderer just from what was probably the common cold.  

“I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself.” You refute, struggling yet again but not putting up much of a fight. Theres a slight twitch in Sylus expression as he watches you.

“Please” Sylus voice comes out just above a whisper and you stop moving. It caught you off guard and you stopped fighting. “Thank you, so stubborn” he kisses the top of your head as you scoff.

You hadn’t even realized that you were falling asleep until you were being woken up by Sylus gently.

“What’s going on” you look around confused as you attempt to sit up, Sylus grabs your arm helping you as a rag falls off the top of your head.

“You have to eat something Kitten.” Sylus states as he grabs a bowl of some type of soup putting the spoon up to your mouth. You take a sip of it without complaint, it soothes but hurts your throat at the same time causing a groan to come out of your mouth. Sylus inhales a deep breath, gripping the spoon harder. You weren’t getting better, if anything it seemed like you were getting worse. Your skin was getting pale, your temperature wasn’t going down, and all you were doing was sleeping and while you were sleeping you were shaking. You were in cold sweat; he had to change the rag on your head almost every thirty minutes.

“It hurts, Sy” You grimace after you try to swallow another spoon full of soap. Your voice was so weak, you looked so frail, it was literally breaking his heart to see you like this.

Sylus puts down the bowl, “Just lay down sweetie.” He helps you get back under the covers and before he can even get back with another towel for your head, you’re asleep.

Now Sylus was a prideful man for sure, but for you, for you he would do anything, for you he would put aside his pride. He knew he couldn’t just call any sort of doctor because of the aether core in your heart, so he knew he had to call your doctor, Doctor Zayne. But oh, did he hate Dr.Zayne, YOUR Dr.Zayne. Sylus just knew that man was in love with you, your childhood friend who spent his life becoming a heart surgeon and then being your personal doctor. Tsk, he’s heard of the whole childhood friends to lover’s trope, he wasn’t a dumb man. He wasn’t dumb, but he was desperate, and he needed you to get better. It had already been a full day since he had been in your place, and you just kept getting worse. Begrudgingly he picked up your phone and did what he had to do.  

You don’t remember much in your sick haze. It was hard to even distinguish what was really going on or what was part of your fever dreams. You lucidly remember Sylus waking you up to give you soup and take medicine. You think you remember Zayne coming in which would make sense, he is your doctor, but you also remember Xavier? Maybe you weren’t particularly sure, it wouldn’t really make sense for him to be there, but you were sure you remembered seeing him.

Eventually, you gain a full sense of consciousness. Surprisingly, your body doesn’t ache like it has been and there isn’t an immense pressure in your head. You attempt to sit up when you notice a hand holding onto your arm, and attached to the hand was Sylus. A soft smile spreads on your face as you see him sitting most likely uncomfortably in a chair next to your bed. His head was laid beside you and his hand grasping onto your arm. You had no clue had long he had been there or how long he had been taking care of you. The pill bottles, half eaten soup and cups of water you don’t remember drinking or taking had to have come from somewhere and it wasn’t you.

“Ah, I see the kitten has finally stirred from her hibernation.” Sylus exhausted face meets your curious eyes.

“Yeah, I’m feeling much better.”  You say with a yawn and a stretch. The gaze he is giving you makes you feel small, causing you to turn away from him, “thank you”

His hand reaches out to grab your chin gently, “You had me worried, sweetie. You had a respiratory infection and pneumonia. What would have happened to you if I wouldn’t have come?” His jaw is set tight and you don’t think you would ever see the feared Onychinus leader looking scared. He was scared, scared he was going to lose you…...again.

“…… I’m sorry but you took care of me and I’m fine now. Yeah?” You say turning your head out of his hands in more embarrassment as you busy yourself with straightening out your night stand. As you pick up the bottle of pills, you notice you see that Zayne prescribed these. You glance between the bottle and then at Sylus.

He scoffs before taking the bottle from your hand, putting it back down “Well of course I had to reach out to your doctor. Your fever wouldn’t go down.”

“But you hate Zayne?”  You questioned as you tilt your head in a way that was way too cute for Sylus.

“I do not hate the doctor. I just don’t like how friendly he is with you on the occasion.” He scoffs at the giggle you let out, “And I’m aware that you are childhood friends, but the man should have some boundaries”

That makes you laugh even harder, not THE Sylus Quin talking about boundaries. He wouldn’t know a boundary if it shot him in the heart. It was sweet, he was being so sweet.

“Yeah, I thought seeing him was just a fever dream I was having actually. Funny enough, I thought I also saw my friend Xavier here.”

The noise that leaves Sylus had you holding back the biggest laugh that you could possibly muster. So in fact you had not imagine Xavier, he had actually been there and surprisingly Sylus let him in.

“Another one of your ‘friends’ who needs to work on their boundaries. He came over in the middle of the night questioning about your whereabouts after sending you NUMEROUS texts and phone calls. He was insistent on seeing you or he would have gotten your little hunter association involved and I didn’t think you would want that.” He groans with this cute pout on his face. “It seems you have a lot of these type of ‘friends’ who lack any type of boundaries. You should work on that sweetie.”

You reach out to grab his face making him look at you, his gaze softened when he saw your face “Thank you for taking care of me, Sy.”

He grabs your hand a places a small kiss upon the back of it, “Of course Kitten”

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Post war/coma comic about Gai struggling with his recovery

Since tumblr hates long form comics, I have to split this into 2 bc its 36 images. This is the first part, part 2 i'll either do as a reblog or a separate post right after this, stay tuned! Links to support me in pinned post <3

tw: s*icidal thoughts, injury, a little blood

Bisuke: Gai's Back!

Gai: GRAAH!

Kks: Im home Gai: Welcome back Kks: [wheels rolling] Hey,

Kks: Ga-!? Gai: Im fine. The tile is cool on my face. Kks: Wanna go lay down in bed? Gai: I am so /sick/ of lying down. Kks: Ok. What do you want for supper?

Gai: You're not going to comment? Kks: I already know what happened. You overdid it again. I should be able to keep up with chores, kakashi. Kks: You can. Just don' bull through it all in one go. Do you want to end up in the hospital again? Gai: Please don't. Kks: I know sitting still is hard for you, and "too much" is in your DNA, but you have to take this slow so you don't exacerbate your injuries, Gai. You went from hyper-aware to pretending your body limits dont exist. Gai: Like you haven't done the same.

Gai: You've proved your point. Kks: It's not about that. And you've dragged me to bed and out of bed repeatedly when I needed it. You were burning alive from the inside. Tsunade told you your immune system is out of whack. You need to take it easy. /I/ know you're capable, but are you trying to prove to /yourself/ you are? Gai: You want me to admit my embarrassment? Kks: If something serioud happens, You'll be even more embarrassed then

Gai: How could you possibly know how I FEEL?! How could you EVER KNOW HOW I FEEL?! Kks: I DON'T! But I've /been/ the one ouking and sobbing on your bathroom floor because I couldn't take living anymore! And I don't want that for YOU!

Kks: I'm sorry, Gai. Gai: I'm sorry

Kks: I can't stand knowing you're in pain, and I can't get you help. If there was a way, I'd do anything. Gai: You do so much to help me already.... And I yelled at you Kks: I've screamed at you so much, that was pretty tame. I wish I was like you with things like this. Not great with what to say...... But I can listen.

Gai: I hate feeling so weak. I'm tired all the time, in constant pain, I can't even walk-..... I can tell tenten and the boys worry despite my efforts to appear positive. Kks: They're just not sure how to react. They know you hate being babied, but don't want to push you into hurting yourself. You hate being told you can't do something. They love you. You get stronger everyday, everyone is cheering you on.

Gai: I know it's irrational, but... I feel like you gave up the Hokage position to take care of me. Kks: Haa!? I'm grateful if anything. I'd be retired too if I could. That'd be amazing. I'm dreading just helping Tsunade but as long as you're by my side, I'll be fine. We're still equals, rivals, friends, partners

Gai: Even if I can't- Kks: /Always/ wil be, dickhead. Gai: You worry about me hurting myself? Kks: I know you think about it

Kks: We're the same in that regard Gai: I would never act on this, please believe me, these thoughts are rare........... Kks: It's ok, Gai. Gai: Sometimes I think i should have just died. I feel so out of place on the streets I used to feel so at home at. I never asked to live. I didn't plan to. I just don't know how to-...

Kks: I understand that. Though, dying didn't feel any better. Gai: I know I didn't fully pass like you did. I didn't see papa. Just for a moment, I wish I could have seen him.

Kks: As much as I'm sure he wants to see you again, It's too soon. Dai'd slap the shit out of you for wanting to waste your youth just to see him. Gai: [chuckle] probably. Kks: I have those thoughts less and less now, but they're still there. "why am I the one who survives?" "Burden" "Gai will come to his senses eventually"

Gai: FALSE!! None of my grief is with you! I love living here with you! My love for you only burns hotter each day! You're so lovely inside and out! Kks: Maa What did I do to deserve such praise from teh mouth of the hottest man in Konoha?? Gai: YOU STILL THINK I'M HOT?! Kks: YOU-! [CACKLE]

Kks: Your bad taste is the only reason I had a chance before someone snatched you up. Gai: The worst. Kks: Thought we'd irritate eachother, but it's been pretty smooth. Even though you still get played by the dogs. Gai: You really wanna throw those stones?

Gai: They play you just as easily. don't lie. Kks: My point is, whatever you need from me, you have it. No questions asked. Even if you yell and scream, i can take it. You held me together when I was unraveling, and I'll never forget it. Didn't trust anyone else to see me like that. Broken

Gai: I never saw you as that. Kks: I'll never see you as that

[never-rxne]

─── all the quiet nights you bear

content warning(s): hurt/comfort, sickfic (mentions of fever dreams), fluff, light angst, no defined or established relationship, hint of yearning, gn reader (cishet men dni...obviously) 

wc: 1.6k

note: this is just shameless fluff i wrote because i’m sick and miserable and why not project that onto sevika ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"and all the quiet nights you bear seal them up with care no one needs to know they're there for i will hold them for you." —Mitski, “I Will”

At first, the symptoms don't show in normal ways. In fact, they barely show at all. 

She’ll smother her coughs in the folds of her cloak, wave it off as a speck of dust in her throat, cigar ash. She was always good at that. Feigning strength. Covering up weaknesses. Like second nature. 

The fever that was ripping through the Lanes, a new virus of some sort, was on the radar of everyone who called Zaun home. But it was next to impossible to imagine Sevika falling victim to it. She had an immune system like steel. In all the years you had known her, you had never seen her catch so much as a passing cold. 

This time it’s different. Something is wrong. She’ll try her best to conceal it, but you know her too well to let even the smallest of hints escape you. The way she stumbles over her feet, catching herself on the doorframe, pausing briefly to catch her breath before she goes on with her work. The thin sheen of sweat along her hairline. Her labored breathing as the two of you walk up the steps into an airship. 

You know the worst way to confront her is to tell her point-blank to take a break. She’ll just scoff, mutter something about you overreacting, walk away before you can get another word out. 

Even worse would be to call her out within the earshot of any of the lackeys. They weren’t exactly devoted to each other, and certainly weren’t on friendly terms with Silco’s closest enforcer. They remembered their little “meetings” with her whenever they tried to sneak themselves a higher cut of the profits. A hint of a weak spot—the smallest of openings—they’d be on her like hounds. 

So you wait until you have her alone in Silco’s empty office. He’s out for the day on a business trip down the other districts of Zaun. As Sevika goes through the shipment records, you can see her hand trembling with exhaustion. 

Slowly, you walk over to where she stands hunched over the desk. You set a glass of water down on the table. She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t give a word or a nod of thanks. But she puts down the papers and drains the water like she’s been parched for days. 

“What’re you trying to do—infect the whole company?” You ask, keeping your tone casual. 

She snaps her gaze at you. “The hell are you talking about?” 

There it is. The tell-tale rasp in her voice. 

You reach up to press the back of your hand against her forehead. Irritably, she swats your hand away. You slap her back, reaching up again to feel her skin. She’s burning up. 

“How long have you been walking around like a living corpse?” 

Sevika turns away. “It’s not that bad. I can handle it.”

“‘Handle it’, my ass. You just marked all these shipment records as fulfilled.” 

Sevika looks down at the faulty manifests. She lets out a heavy sigh of frustration, swearing under her breath. 

“Go home, Sevika.” 

She tries to scoff, but it catches in her throat and turns into a coughing fit. 

“I’ll put it this way,” you say, laying a hand on her arm, “you stay, and you'll double the work by messing everything up. Best thing you could do for anybody right now is rest.” 

She opens her mouth to argue. You know exactly what she’s about to say, so you beat her to the punch. Gathering the papers into your arms, you push her toward the door. “I’ll cover for you. I’ll fix these forms up. You just try to stay upright on the walk home.” 

She snorts. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Sevika.” 

She ignores you, reaches for the papers in your hands. You shake your head. If she thinks she’s the only  stubborn ass in this room, she’s forgetting who she’s standing in front of. 

Standing. Well. Barely. The woman’s ready to topple over any second.

“Right,” you say. You march over to the corner of the room, shoving the papers into your satchel. “Then I’m taking you home myself.” 

“What?” 

You hook your arm through hers, shepherding her toward the door. You can feel the heat radiating through her sleeve. “You’re in no damn condition to be working up here.” 

꩜

Once you’ve wrestled her into bed, she falls asleep almost immediately. Brows creased with the remnants of her resistance to the limitations of her own body. 

She’s out cold for seventeen straight hours. 

In the meantime, you straighten things up. Clean the bottles off the floor of her dimly lit apartment. Open the windows in the kitchen to let some of the stale air out, the smell of cigarette smoke hanging thick. For all the time you’ve known her, it’s been ages since you’ve last seen her place. It’s just the same as you remember. Minus the deck of cards that always used to sit at the corner of the kitchen table. It’s been replaced by several used-up lighters, which you throw away. 

She wakes up at intervals, blinking slowly at you as if she’s only half-processing you’re there. You have the papers laid out in front of you on the table, signing off all the reports of Shimmer shipments. 

You don’t notice her watching you at first. 

“Need something?” You’re already getting up, reaching for the jug of water nearby. “What is it?” 

Sevika parts her dry lips. In a voice scraped raw, so weak you need to lean in to hear her, she says, “you don’t…you don’t have to do this.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You don’t have to…look after me like this.” 

You huff impatiently. “Don’t waste your strength talking nonsense.” You feel her forehead again, pull the blanket closer to her chin. “Want me to make you tea?” 

Sevika searches your face, her grey eyes darting, before her lids close again. She turns over, pulling the blanket around her. “It’s fuckin’ cold,” she mutters, and drifts off again. 

꩜

The illness stays for days. 

You’ve moved in temporarily, your clothes hang haphazardly from the furniture, and dirty bowls and cups litter the kitchen. You’ve bribed everyone you knew at the Last Drop to keep things hushed about Sevika’s condition. As far as you know, only Silco knows the truth. 

You do everything you can to quell the fever. Bathe her face and body with cold compresses, stripping off her clothes and drawing the cloth over her skin to bring down the temperature. Murmuring softly to her as she flinched from the cold, muttering indecipherable things in her sleep. You wrap her in every blanket you can find in the apartment. You wake her up intermittently to get her to drink some water, feed her some soup, but nothing stays down for long. 

It’s worse late at night, when she has the fever dreams, when she thrashes in bed and drenches the sheets with sweat, crying out names of people you’ve never heard of before. When she wakes up and stares at you but doesn’t seem to recognize you, grey eyes glassy and bloodshot. 

“You here to finish me off?” She asks you in a wild, hoarse voice, over and over. “Huh? You here to watch me go?” 

You don’t know who she thinks you are. You wipe the sweat from her face. You climb into bed and press your body to her burning skin, holding her close until she stops tossing and turning, until you can feel her fall back into troubled sleep.  

You try not to let yourself get scared. Try to keep the fears at bay, try to keep your wits about you. By now you’ve heard the rumors of the spreading fever taking the lives of the weaker ones—a new infection, cross-contamination—something to do with the waste waters from Topside. People are dropping like flies. Rumors of new symptoms start to circulate. 

Not Sevika. It won’t happen to Sevika. 

She’s too strong. She’s fought for too long. 

You don’t let yourself think about the worst that could happen. Sevika had always been in your life, an unstoppable force…you’re realizing now you had taken her strength for granted. Never, never for a moment would you have dreamed of a possibility that you might lose her. 

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about a life where she isn’t there. 

You don’t think you could handle it. 

꩜

Around midnight at the end of a long, hellish week, her fever breaks. You could have cried out of relief. Her pulse finally drops to a normal rate. She wakes up briefly to drink some water and for the first time, her eyes are lucid when she looks at you. 

“Hey,” she says. “You look like hell.” 

“You look worse,” you retort, wiping a trickle of water that runs down her chin.

A small smile. The sight feels better than the high of any drug. 

You don’t need to watch over her that night. You watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest for several minutes, and feel a strange twist in your heart. Like the softest of wounds has opened up in your soul. Then you go back out to the living room, and promptly pass out on the couch.  

When you check on her in the morning, she’s already sitting up in bed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. 

“Hey, you,” you say softly, brushing the sweaty strands of hair out of her face. “Welcome back.” 

“I feel like shit,” she grumbles. Her peevish tone makes you smile. 

“As long as you’re alive.”

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

i was daydreaming about no doubt jakeyn and i got this GENIUS idea….jake meeting yn’s parents as a boyfriend and him being VERY worried abt silly things bc of his fear of yns parents…then when he actually meets them they live him (bc who WOUKDNT live him)

GENUIS IDEA USER JINNIBUG!!!!!!!! literally they would LOVEEEEE him . he'd be so silly goofy about it and stress out abt the littlest things ever and freaking out and yn would have the best time watcing him be all nervous and preparing what to say and stuff heheheh but ur right who WOULDNT love our resident lover boy jakey <3

──── PEACHES & PROPOSALS & PARENTS 🍑🤍🏠 ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series!

“They’re going to hate me.” 

“Jake.” 

You twist in your seat.

He’s sitting in the driver’s seat next to you, one hand stiff on the wheel, the other gripping yours in your lap like you’re his lifeline. His eyes dart from the road to your face and back again, like he’s expecting you to disappear any second now. 

He’s dressed all proper and ironed like a true golden retriever who got offered an interview at a fancy bank. Hair styled. Shirt tucked. Posture stiff as if he’s meeting the CEO of the bank himself but the CEOs are…your parents.

You told him it’s not that big of a deal. Repeatedly. 

That they already adore him just from hearing you talk about him constantly. That they think he sounds like a dream (he is). That they’ve been dying to meet him. 

But because your boyfriend is Sim Jaeyun—he’s spiraling.

“Be honest,” he says, borderline frantic that it almost has you stressed out, “Do I look trustworthy? Like…do I give son-in-law energy? I’m trying to go for like…dependable but also a little fun—like I’d pay my taxes on time but also make their daughter laugh, you know?” 

You snort. 

He doesn’t.

He’s serious. 

“Jake. Relax.” 

“You dont think they’ll ask if I’ve ever made you cry, right? Or like, I—should I say I’ve been thinking about marrying you since like week two or would that freak them out?” He groans. “I didn’t even rehearse that part yet—oh god, what if I do the thing where I laugh so hard I fall over and out of my se—“

“Jake.” You reach across the console, gently cupping his cheek. 

He leans into your hand, eyes wide and utterly desperate, giving you a look that says you’re definitely his last shred of emotional stability. 

“They’re going to love you,” you say, eyes wide and firm. “You buy my groceries. You make sure I eat my meals. You literally label your own water bottles when you’re sick so I don’t accidentally drink them because ‘you might get sick, baby.’” 

Jake pouts.

“Because your immune system is weak.” 

You giggle, a sweet smile forming on your face as you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, just below the pink that’s started to grow there,“Exactly. So unless you somehow accidentally insult my mom’s cooking or run into my dad’s car on the drive way, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” 

Jake doesn’t look convinced. He pouts even more, his grip on the wheel tightening. You squeeze the one in yours again. 

“If anything, I should be scared they’re gonna like you more than me, Jake.” 

Jake softens at that—eyes crinkling into the beginning of what you think is a smile, still nervous, but there, at least. 

And sure enough—

Three hours, later, you’re walking back into your living room to see Jake leaning back on the couch, his arm casually stretched out on the couch, laughing at something your dad just said.

Your mom is in the kitchen humming while slicing up fruit, and Jake? Jake’s on his second plate of sliced peaches and has a new nickname your dad just gave him. 

You plop down beside him, and Jake’s face lights up, moving to drape his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in. 

“Hey, love. Your mom and I made weekend plans already. She’s gonna teach me how to cook your favorite meals so I can make them for you at home.” 

You blink. 

“You…already planned next weekend?” 

Jake beams, nodding proudly, “Yup. And the weekend after that. Your dad and I are going fishing.” 

“…Jake you suck at fishing.” 

He gasps. 

Your dad laughs. 

Your mom brings in Jake’s third plate of peaches. 

Yeah—

They love him. 

tag list pt 1!:

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @heekolazz @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[docdudo]

Hi!! I want to start by saying I absolutely love your writing! It’s great writing and is pretty good for me to understand (English isn’t my first language).

I just wanted to ask, How do you think poly hybrid 141 would react to adopted reader getting sick?? And I mean really sick, like a good case of the flu that takes a whole week, like 7 days and antibiotics to go away??

I could see them being so worried and stressed, taking her to doctors and everything because they get better in 24-48 hours with their fancy strong immune systems! I also wonder if adopted reader would be confused by going to the doctors, because if anything happend while in previous foster homes, she was told to just figure it out and get better on her own.

You are right about one thing: hybrids have a better immune system than humans do!

Humans are considered weak and frail in every sense of the word. That includes their health. In fact, a human's health is so discussed that specialists from other races all study the human body constantly so they would be able to treat one, would they ever needed it.

(Because of the lack of total humans on this universe, it's rare to find a human doctor, for example. So, other races have to cover for them in a lot of different fields. There are programs and organizations in this world that entierelly foucused on making sure the few humans that exist would get the care they need. So, for example, if you are a doctor and also specialize on taking care of humans beside some other race, you would probably be paid more by the governement).

Now, little reader getting sick? Like, really sick? Yeah, that house is turning upside down. As hybrids, the whole 141 pride themselves on being good caretakers and providers. They also know how much more frail humans are compared to them.

But know is different from experiencing.

Little reader would start off with the typical signs of the flu. Stuffy nose, throat a bit sore, a sluggish body. All that. But, as we all know, it's very quick for sickness to develop. And in the spam of a night, little reader is waking up with a high fever and a weak, useless body.

The 141 would notice almost immediatly. They can smell how sick you are, even from your room. That weird, almost sour smell that we can usually smell when we blow our nose.

Before you know it, you would probably be in Price's or Soap's arms, surronded by their warmth, hearing their cooed words that make zero to almost no sense to your sick and hazy mind.

And at first, they are very much panicking. They are calling the rest of their pack while cooing and conforting you, Laswell being the one to tell them to immediatly take you to the doctor.

And they do, everyone going on the car together, because if one of them had anything to do that day, it's immediatly getting canceled. They would still hold you close, on their laps, and every single one of them are cooing quietly at you. Even Ghost. Tho his "cooing" sounds more like his normal voice, just extra quiet and gentler than usual.

And it's true, you're not that used to going to the doctor. You usually never get that sick, and as a foster kid, it just doesn't happen often.

But, you were feeling pretty hazy, mind clouded and feverish. You barely remember going that first time to the doctor with them.

You barely remember the kind doctor that was trying his best to easy your foster parents' worries, and all the examination he did on you, even if you couldnt cooperate much with how confused you were.

You certainly got treated at the hospital and monitored until your fever came down a bit. After that, they send you back home with your parents, who had gotten a lot of new instructions and medicines to properly take care of you at home.

You took almost a full week to finally start getting better.

They would't let you sleep in your room anymore, since you got sick, you had been sleeping on their shared nest, with them. They would constantly check on your breathing and heartbeats, and would even feed you themselves and make sure you were plenty hydrated.

And even after you got better, they would still be extra careful and overbearing for a little while longer.

You can be sure that they would be taking extra measures now so that you never get sick again.

[monstersholygrail]

Just gift army vampire bf medical textbooks and show him how advanced in some aspects the medical word has come since WWI 😂

Oh my god hahahaha. I can imagine this going two ways. Either the good way where he totallyyy nerds out and gets obsessed with medicine, wondering why they didn’t teach this to him. Or the bad way where it makes him worry for reader more. I wrote the bad way lmao

As much as you loved having Army Medic Vampire bf dote on you as you were sick, you could tell his worry was beginning to consume him. And for now you were only human so eventually his squeezing got so tight you ended up not being able to breathe.

Which of course sent you into another coughing fit.

So in order to assuage your immortal lover, you thought it would be a good idea to introduce him to something a little more modern. Sticking him in front of the computer, an object he already struggles with, you bring up one website in particular.

The National Library of Medicine.

Of course, he makes a fuss about checking it out for your sake but that he doesn’t really trust it given the website belongs to the U.S. government. All its credibility flew out the window when he saw that little tid bit.

Instead you pull up The Royal Society of Medicine Library and let him have at it. The only issue is that you haven’t seen him since.

Hours have passed and you haven’t heard a peep from him. Given his undead state that’s not exactly cause for concern. Yet something about it feels off anyone. Ignoring the dizzy spell that washes over you when you stand, you weakly make your way out to the living room.

Only to see Army Medic Vampire bf pacing around the room, hastily slamming and locking all the windows closed and checking the temperature. His long blonde hair and fussed up and his red eyes nearly wild with insanity.

“What’s going on?!” You call out to him and oh you almost regret it.

His head snaps over to you and when one second he was at the opposite side of the room he’s now in front of you, scooping you back up into his arms. Holding you tighter than ever before.

“There’s so much disease! Sickness. Why didn’t you tell me?! So much I didn’t know, wasn’t aware of. Every little thing can so easily bring down a mortal!” He rambles on and on like a man possessed.

Carrying you back into the bedroom where you can rest, he curls his body around you. Making his body act as a shield from the world of germs constantly surrounding you. You help soothe him where you can and you feel him petting the back of your head.

“My immune system does what it can, you know,” you mumble into his neck, knowing how shaken he must be to tuck you into such a vulnerable spot for him.

Army Medic Vampire bf immediately shakes his head. It wasn’t enough. Everything about a human was so fragile, he had forgotten that before meeting you. And ever since he’s remembered it’s terrified him.

“It too is puny and weak, look at you already on deaths door. Practically skin and bones,” he complains dramatically, a small pout on his face.

You send him a playful glare but he either doesn’t notice or purposefully ignores it. You suspect the latter given the way he immediately tucks you back into his neck.

“No matter. The moment you are better we’ll never have to worry about such things again. A gift of being immortal.”

“Right. Then I’ll only have to worry about the sun, holy water, wooden stakes, and fire,” you snap back.

Amused for only a moment before your bf is squeezing the life out of you. A wide horrified look on his face. Realizing there will never come a day where he’ll stop worrying over your safety.

“Oh Gods.”

[sweetttsummer]

the three times you’re called chase’s wife (+ the one time it’s true) 

dr. robert chase x fem!reader 

summary: i fear the title says it all. three times you’re called chase’s wife and the one time its true!

this is connected to my one shot here! but can be read as a standalone (i think?) !!!!

wc: 4.1k

tw: actually…none? this is lowkey just fluff 

author’s note: my last chase fic was so well received and the house md fandom as just been so nice and welcoming... i felt the urge to give yall some more. i feel like i could make a whole universe within this world so :p there are a few plot points i could make one shots within this one like the cave marriage, the convo they have in the second part, so many let me know what yall would like best! (not beta read as usual)

have a request? ask away! 

The first time it happened, neither you or Chase had been particular keen on correcting the doctor. Chase had already been a bit a problem, forcing Dr. Lovell to give you a check up in the first place. It had been at least a year since you had any sort of flare up with your GBS, a year and a half since you were first diagnosed, first reconnected with Robert Chase. 

Really, the first few months were the hardest, and sometimes it felt like Chase was still living in those months. So when he let you know he had gotten an appointment with an important neuromuscular neurologist and he pressed a quick kiss onto the top of your head you deiced to indulge him. 

Now you both sat in the separate waiting room,  you humming a little under your breath as you glanced around the space. Chase had settled in the chair for about 10 seconds before he started to chew on his thumb nail. You weren’t exactly sure why Chase had been working himself into a fit about your health lately, but chalked it up to the fact that the anniversary of your diagnosis had passed with no real fuss. You spent the weekend excited to celebrate the anniversary you truly cared about, your first full year with Chase. 

It had been incredible, at least after you finally found yourself back at full health. The first three months Chase had hovered a little, used all his vacation days to come to your doctors appointments, helped you with simple tasks like putting on your shoes, learned to cook your favorite soup and tried to make you eat it every other day, (“Really Robert, you’re a doctor, you know soup isn’t actually a medical solution, right?” you had joked as you ate another bowl for dinner “Its January in New Jersey and you have a weak immune system still, I just want to keep you warm,” his response had you eating soup well into May). 

You pulled Chase’s hand from his mouth and laced your fingers together, giving his hand a small squeeze to catch his attention. His gaze immediately turned to you, the obvious concern laced within it. You pressed a kiss against the back of his hand before you spoke. 

“What are you worried about? I’ve been in recovery for longer than I was sick, I told you I’d mention if something felt wrong. The only reason this Doctor is even entertaining this is because who you work for,” 

“Actually, it’s because who my father was,” Robert squeezed your hand three times before letting out a small sigh, “Cameron told me that GBS can reoccur in 2-3% of cases, and you’ve never been good at taking care of yourself,” 

“Well that’s why you’ve been taking care of me, and you’re great at it,” You joked a little before realizing what he said earlier, “Did you name drop your dead father for this appointment?” 

Robert shrugged a little at your question, “Thought maybe he’d finally give us something good,” 

You went to argue against it hating the idea that you’d owe his father anything when the door to the room swung open revealing Dr. Lovell. 

“Sorry about that, just wanted to double check everything,” Dr. Lovell shut the door behind herself and stood in front of you guys. 

You felt a tight squeeze against your hand again and couldn’t help but hum back a small confirmation that you felt it. 

“Well (Y/N),” Dr. Lovell paused, “You are perfectly healthy for a women your age, at least from my standpoint, all the tests came back as they should, you haven’t complained about any weird muscle pains, or headaches, you seem in my medical opinion, completely healthy.” 

You nodded a little as she spoke, none of it shocked you, you knew you were healthy, felt good, so instead you simply turned to look at Robert, “See, told you, nothing to worry about,”  teasing tone obvious. 

“Your wife is right, Dr. Chase,” Dr. Lovell couldn’t help but have a small smirk break through the professional tone, “You should trust her,” 

If it had been any other doctor asking for this appointment Dr. Lovell would have found a way to avoid the whole situation, but once one of her nurses had told her it was Rowan Chase’s son and he was part of Dr. House’s team, she bit the bullet and accepted the appointment. 

Robert had opened his mouth to correct Dr. Lovell, tell her that you weren’t married yet, didn’t want to confuse her or made you uncomfortable at the implication but was quickly distracted by you leaning into his side a little jostling him. You didn’t seem phased at all at the title, didn’t even think about correcting the doctor. 

“Yeah you should trust me,” Your tone was barely laced with relief, (sure you knew you were healthy, but now having Chase understand it, does cause a small amount of relief,) “I know I already used one but, how many ‘told you so’s’ does this get me,” You joked and bumped your nose against the side of his cheek. 

Robert leaned into the affection without any real thought happy to feel you close to him at any point, Dr. Lovell couldn’t help but look away the small touches intimate in a strange way. She took a moment to pull out some papers that the nurse will walk you through and nodded a small goodbye to Dr. Chase before she slipped out of the room. 

“You stay that healthy and you can tell me you told me so every day for all I care,” Robert sighed a little at the nuzzle you seemed to lean into once Dr. Lovell slipped out. 

“Sounds like a deal,” You sigh back a little silly in love. 

Chase turns his face without thinking and presses a kiss against your nose, followed by a kiss against your forehead, finally he moves his empty hand and brings you closer for an actual kiss. 

 ___ 

The second time it happens, you’re not even around, and he still jumps at the idea of the word freaking you out. 

Chase hadn’t seen you much in the last two weeks, having been completely engulfed in the case that House had brought the team. It wasn’t a rare occurrence and the first time, he had come home with flowers, tried to cook dinner dead on his feet, looking for anyway to apologize for his absence. He had watched the toll it took on his mother when his father was always away, couldn’t help but imagine you wasting away in his (now your) apartment, learning to spite him for making you love him enough you can’t leave, saved your life so you couldn’t leave when you stop loving him. He had thrown himself into a small spiral on his drive home, not helped by his poorly state. So when you walked into the apartment (having a late night yourself at the law firm), you were shocked to see an exhausted Robert cheeks red from trying to cook, bags starting to development under his eyes and obviously flustered by your sudden appearance. You kicked into action fairly easily, pulled him from the stove forced him into the shower and finished dinner. While he was in the shower you had gotten out of your work clothes, pulled out something comfortable for him and by the time he was out, the apartment was lowly lit, dinner ready and you had cleaned your face in the guest bathroom, cheeks shiny clean and fresh.

 It wasn’t until you forced him into bed, earlier than he was use to, that he realized you had taken care of him, the opposite of what he had set out to have happen. He mumbled an apology and you had pulled him in, letting him rest against your chest and pressed a small kiss against the top of his still slightly damp hair, you made a mental note to ask him why he was sorry in the morning. 

Since then, Chase had done his best to take your advice (“Don’t think about me when you’re working a case, especially if it’s just to make yourself feel bad, that useless to both of us and your patients,”), and it worked well. He didn’t have to feel guilty about being completely engulfed within each case,  didn’t imagine you waiting up for him anymore, (“Robert, I love you, and I promise not to wait up for you unless I want to,”). 

Still, you appeared in places he didn’t even realize, he saw your presence in the strawberry pudding that the nurses passed out once a week, in the shirts he knows you’d like that Cameron wore, in the amount of creamer that Foreman poured into his shitty coffee. Now, he’s seeing you in the worst place, the patient. She shared your hair color, your body type, even the name felt a little close to yours, but he had called you during lunch and now he was ready again. 

The patient had a turn for the worse, now in a medically induced coma, just a few feet away. Chase had let Foreman take the lead, speaking to the husband about the three risky treatments that the team had come to believe would be the best choices. Chase wasn’t listening to the way Foreman was exampling the condition, the treatment, he was wrapped in the diagnosis, disagreeing with both Foreman and Cameron but having no good rebuttal. 

“Are you married Dr. Foreman?” The husband asked when Foreman was finally done explaining, “If this was your wife, laying here, could you make the choice?” 

It was obvious the husband was sick of doctors who weren’t giving real answers yet acted like they knew everything, sick of the idea of a doctor and not a friend. The most important person in his life was on the edge of dying and strangers who, as far as he knew, didn’t care were in charge of helping them. 

Foreman shook his head, “No, I’m not married but-“ 

The husband immediately cut him off, against irritating Foreman, “So when I say to imagine it’s your wife you can’t, not really, neither of you can understand the situation I’m in,” 

Chase heard the annoyed guff Foreman let out under his breath, “Mr. Bryon, I get that-“ Foreman started again 

“No you don’t” 

Foreman clenched his jaw and glanced over to where Chase stood and suddenly unclenched his jaw, “Okay you’re right, I don’t get it, but,” Foreman made eye contact with Chase for just a moment before obviously make a choice, 

“Dr. Chase has been where you are, I might not understand, but his wife and him have been in this position” Foreman stepped back subtly letting Chase finally take the lead, emphasizing the small white lie for Chase to follow.

The husband pulled his eyes from his wife and instead looked at Chase, large eyes obviously looking for someone to have some sort of understanding of the panic, the ice cold fear that had started in his limbs and spread across as his wife got sicker and sicker. 

“Your wife is sick?” 

“Was” Chase corrected without a second thought. It was his own instinct, you weren’t sick anymore he had made sure of that, would keep making sure of that and couldn’t imagine letting the idea of you currently being sick infect his own mind. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” The husband, in his worst situation, assumed the worse. 

Chase immediately shook his head, then  paused and debated using the phrase. My wife. He thought of the way you’ve reacted to the word before the few times you had heard it, how the first time with Dr. Lovell, it was like you didn’t even hear it. He never asked you about it, and you never brought it up. Obviously, he never doubted he wanted to call you his wife since you found each other again, but he had never asked if you wanted to be his wife even in theory. What would you do if you found out he was about to use the phrase out loud? Then he remembered ‘Don’t think about me when you’re working a case, especially if it’s just to make yourself feel bad’. 

In a few seconds, Chase made his decision. He came closer to the husband and reached his hand into the pocket of his slacks. He pulled out his wallet and in the slot that had previously held the only letter he thought you wrote, a photo now resided. You had printed out a few of them to decorate the apartment, and he had stolen this one when he thought you weren’t looking, the smallest print of the two of you on your first vacation. Without a second thought he smiled a little at the photo, neither of you were looking at the camera, instead looking at each other in mid laugh as the self timer on the camera had gone off. He can’t exactly remember what he had said, but he had made you laugh and that was enough to have him laughing. He had loved the photo immediately, proof that he made you happy, and you only printed it out because he insisted. He flipped the photo around so Mr. Bryon could look at it. 

 “Look Mr. Bryon, When my wife was sick, Dr. House and his team were the ones who helped us,” He doesn’t mention the fact that he had found the correct diagnosis, “But, they can’t make the choices of someone who loves her, that’s on you. She picked you to make these choices, it’s hard, but you have to make them. In sickness and in health, right?” 

Chase ignores the way Foreman seems to cross his arms and try to peer over to see if Chase was being sincere, instead focusing back on the photo he was holding this time upside down so Mr. Bryon could keep looking at it, “Feels nearly impossible when it’s someone so important, but you’re the one who knows what she’d pick, you know her the best and she’s trusting you, so you should trust yourself. It can work out fairly well in my experience” Mr. Bryon’s had been staring at it for a moment as he spoke but now that Chase was smiling down at the photo, Mr. Bryon took a second to debate Dr. Chase’s legitimacy.  

Mr. Bryon looked back at his wife on the hospital bed for a long moment before turning back to Dr. Foreman, “Can you walk me through the options once more?” 

____ 

The third time it happens, it’s not Chase or you that are flustered by the phrase. After Chase had come home destroyed by a patient’s death, you had stayed up with him and did whatever you could to comfort him. It was about 3am when he moved his head off your lap on the couch. He was poorly lit by the television playing whatever early morning news the station had switched to. He rubbed his sore eyes a little before looking at you, gaze unwavering, and asked if you see yourselves married at some point. After that, it was easy to see it in the future, something to come eventually. 

Now, Cameron sat at the cafeteria table with Chase as they waited for you to join them for dinner. It wasn’t the first time you had visited Chase at work, but it was the first time Cameron had decided to tag along. She had the chance to get to know you over the years she had worked with Chase at events he had been forced to attend, during quick chats when he forgot something at home and you had to drop it off, late nights after a case when you eventually joined them for a drink. It was weird leaving the team, but after some time away she came to the conclusion she could dislike what happened during her time there and still want to stay friends with the people she had met there, so she invited herself to lunch when she had seen Chase in passing. 

Cameron was munching on a fry while Chase started to complain about the way the patient was acting about treatments they were offering when suddenly he heard your voice approach the table. He looked up to see you chitchatting with a nurse that you had grown to recognize every time you swung by, one that had helped you out when you had your own stay here. 

You waved a little as you approached the table with the nurse, she spoke up before you had the chance, “Ran into your wife in the elevator, sorry I held her up,” 

Chase stood up from the bench seat and smiled a little at the nurse before turning his attention completely on you, “Thanks for keeping her company,” He hummed a little as he watched you lean up towards him for a kiss. 

Cameron furrowed her eyebrows a little at the way you both slide past the nurse calling you his wife. She watched Chase leaned down just a smidge and meet you for a kiss. It was a short kiss, just a peck, not enough to satisfy Chase as was obvious in the way he pulled you a little close his nose coming to the top of your head for a small kiss, 

“It was nice catching up with you!” You spoke to the nurse, completely causal about the way Chase seemed to almost test how close he could pull you before someone started looking at you guys funny, “Wanna join us for lunch?” You asked as you pressed a gentle hand against the hand Chase had resting on your shoulder. 

The nurse shook her head, “Gotta go finish rounds, next time?” 

Once the nurse said her goodbyes you slipped away from Chase’s hold long enough to slide into the booth that Chase was sitting in and holding out your hand to him. Cameron sent you a weak smile as she watched Chase take your hand and slide into the booth, asking for another kiss once he’s settled. You give in without thought. 

“If you got married and didn’t invite me, I will be beyond angry.” Cameron finally spoke up, breaking up the kiss. “Really you guys wouldn’t even really be together if I minded my own business, so if anything, I should be maid of honor, just saying” 

Chase took his hand out of yours once you pulled your lips off of his, “That’s not true,” He deadpanned as he reached his arm over your shoulder and took a carrot off his plate before sliding the plate closer to you. 

You shrugged a little, unsure if it was completely untrue. You eyed the plate of food that Chase grabbed too much of for himself alone and picked up a grape, “Probably not completely untrue honey,” You looked up at Cameron as you chewed the grape and realized she was truly offended. 

“Alison, of course we didn’t get married you would obviously be invited,” You grabbed the fork Chase pushed towards you and you poked around the bowl of salad.

“Well that nurse just called you his wife!” Alison gapped a little.

Chase can’t help but preen a little when the he notices you’re biting back at smile at the sound of the words, you shrug it off, “It’s not a big deal, especially when it’ll happen anyways,” You gather your favorite bits of the salad onto your fork and shovel a small bit into your mouth. 

Cameron looks over at Chase and tries to reason with her eyes for him to confess if you guys did get married, Chase could tell and immediately gave her a deadpan look, “Not married yet,” He confirmed and raised his left hand as if to display the lack of a ring. 

“Yet?” Cameron raised her eyebrow. 

“Yet” you and Chase say together. 

___ 

The fourth time, it’s finally true. He’s fairly sure that’s why House had called him out on it, had picked his words carefully when he walked in perfectly on time into the conference room. 

“How’s the missus, Dr. Chase?” House sat at the end of the table, “Did she take your last name?” 

“The wedding isn’t for another three months,” Park spoke from her spot at the conference table confused, “Didn’t you get the invite?” 

Chase internal groaned a little at how oblivious Park could be when it comes to House’s scheming. 

“So much to learn,” House stood up and hobbled over to where Chase was sitting leaning over his shoulder just a little “Being married and having a wedding are two different things. See to be married, all you need is a witness and an officiant, right Chase?” 

Chase rolled his eyes a little and leaned back in his chair, his hands had been shoved in his pocket since he had sat down, “I get back from vacation and you’re already trying to annoy me? Might be a new record House” 

He had taken a month off, you said you wanted to visit Australia again before you had your wedding, joked and called it a pre wedding honeymoon and he couldn’t resist it when you phrased it like that. It wasn’t in the itinerary to get married, but suddenly you were both in one of the caves you use to hang out in when you were young and the plan seemed to form as you speak, Chase had stepped out for two minutes, made a few calls and suddenly you were both in your fanciest vacation clothes, cold sand between your toes and rings slipped on. You made him swear to keep the official wedding date, this one was just for you two. 

“Would anyone like to talk about the case I brought or?” Dr. Adams huffed a little 

Chase went to reach for the case file with his right hand, House brought his cane up just barely and lightly smacked Chase’s moving right hand, 

“Ouch,” Chase gritted out annoyed and pulled his left hand out of his coat rubbing the back of his right in pain. 

There on his left hand ring finger, a shiny gold ring sat. You had suggested he simply wear it on a chain, or maybe slip it into his wallet when you guys got back home. He had made the decision that he would take it off in the locker room, but the month of wearing it in Australia had made it difficult when he was sitting in the locker room. He took it off for about a minute before he turned around and put it back on. In three months he’d be wearing it for the rest of his life anyways, he couldn’t help but want to get a head start on that. 

“What about the wedding? Wait can you get married here if you’re already married in Australia?” Park started to ramble once she spotted the ring on his finger. Adam has admitted defeat on trying to get her case looked at and furrowed her brow in her own curiosity. 

House hobbled back to his seat and put his feet up against the table before looking back at Chase, 

“So, how’s the wife?” House asked again, smug in a way only Dr. House could manage. 

Chase tried to keep the annoyed feeling in his chest, tried to be pissed that the secret slipped not even an hour into being back, but the wedding ring shone on his finger and he couldn’t help the small smile that settled across his own face. 

“She’s doing great,” He stopped and kept his eyes focused on the hand, wedding ring against the folder he had finally grabbed, “My wife is doing incredible.” 

He twisted the ring a little on his finger, “And she’s keeping her last name,” 

[felikatze]

ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

[evilbirdy]

hey there. I was wondering if you Could do se-mi x fem reader Where reader is sick (high fever and bad cough) and she trys to hide it from her but se-mi noticed How you wouldnt let her kiss you and that your body felt really hot. She scolds u for not telling her and she takes Care of you.

thank you and have a Good Day or Night. Im sick from my brother and Girl i need se-mi to take Care of me😭😭

i can’t care about anything but you

now playing ~ lovefool by the cardigans

se-mi x fem!reader

As someone who also sick right now, we all need a fic of Se-Mi taking care of us. I might make this a little “Se-mi taking care of sick! reader” series in the future

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hated flu season, you have a weak immune system and always ended up getting symptoms if you are around sick people. You were lying in your bedroom right now, buried in a pile of blankets. Your heated is turned on, the windows are closed, your humidifier had a cool, minty scent. Nothing was helping, you had three round of Nyquill already.

A loud cough rang through the room, you cringe as your throat burned. You ached as you got up from the bed. The small journey from your bedroom to your kitchen was difficult, your feet felt so frozen that it hurts with every step, the drowsiness from your medicine made you dizzy.

You grab some leftover soup that your friend Young-sik’s mother dropped off for you. You leaned onto the counter and was about to drift off to sleep until you heard your doorbell ring.

You jumped and looked through the keyhole, your girlfriend; Se-Mi enters your view

Oh fuck

You threw off your blanket, laying it on the couch. You wipe the sweat from your forehead before opening the door.

You let out a soft smile, choking back the cough in your throat. “Hey baby, what are you doing here?” you hum, leaning against the door. She smirks and walk into your apartment. “Why does it feel like a sauna in here?” she took off her jacket, hanging it next the door, “You know it’s about above 20 outside, babe,” she sat at your kitchen table, smelling the air.

“Soup? you barely even eat soup,” she gives a questionably look. You hummed, taking the soup out of the microwave. “Ms. Jang gave it to me, she knows I barely cook and wants to make sure I eat, I feel too guilty by not eating her food,” you sat across from her eating the soup. The soup cooled the scratching sensation in your throat and cleared your nostrils for a second.

She chuckled lowly and gets up to walk over to you. She leaned down and was about to give you a kiss but you back away.

She gives you a small confused look, side-eyeing you. “Ohh umm I was still swallowing the soup, that would have been an awkward kiss,” you tried to laugh it off and quickly ate more soup. Se- mi clicked her tongue before tucking her hand under your chin and lifted your head up. She pressed the back of her hand on your face.

“You’re hot,” she murmured, her hand moving to your face. “Oh thank you,” you tried to laugh but seen her stern face by stopping and looking down. “How long have you been sick?” you sigh, looking back up. “Only for about…a week..,” Se-mi’s eyes widen slightly before picking up and bringing you to bed.

“What made you think it was a good idea to keep this from me, huh? I could have gotten you better earlier,” she tucks you in the bed, grabbing you some medication. She laid it all on your side table and went into the drawer, getting a thermometer.

“I *cough* didn’t want to *cough* *cough* worry you,” You tried to sit up but she urges you to stay lying down. “No no, lay down baby, you don’t have to lift my finger anymore,” she grabs a tissue, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Ahh *sneeze* aren’t I so lucky, thank you, can you grab my soup,” she nods, going to the kitchen and bringing you your soup. She helps you sit up and place the soup in front of you.

“I don’t want you to get sick baby,” she shakes her head and sits next to you. “I would rather be suffering in this bed with you than be anywhere else right now,” she kisses you lightly on the lips and tucks your hair back.

“Wove you,” your voice gotten all nasally, you violently sniff. “Wove you too,” she laughs, mocking you, she leans in again but you lightly push her back.

[littlelovelunette]

Can you write a story where Vi got reader pregnant and but before they find out she is pregnant she thinks she just had the flu (this is how I found out… but I’m not talented enough to project it in writing and I don’t wanna use AI so could you please!)

Not Flu, Is It?

Vi x Pregnant!Reader

It's been a few days you were woken early in the mornings with a wave of nausea.

You shrugged it off, it was flu season and given your terribe and weak immune system, you were sure you'd just caught flu.

And so was Vi, she was helping you through it with flu treatments and medication too.

Goodness, was Vi so worried for you.

Ome of those days, you were laid next to Vi who was stroking your hair lovingly before suddenly, her expression changed, one of confusion, "Baby, did you get your period this month?"

"No," you looked up, your voice weak from the constant throwing up and sickness, "I think not, everything's been so hectic I just lost track of it."

"Throwing up, missed period, tummy ache," Vi listed off all your symptoms, hands running down your back in a soothing manner, "Even an idiot could've reasoned you might just be pregnant."

"I am?" You mumbled, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

"We can't be so sure like that, I'll go run down to the store and get you some tests, okay?" Vi tilted your head up so you could meet her gaze, you gave her a small smile and a nod.

"Mm..." You stared at her as if waiting for her to add something to her last words, puppy eyed gaze lingering on Vi.

"... And some chocolates, I got you," Vi gave you a reassuring squeeze before she got up, keys jingling and jacket rustling as she quickly got herself ready.

Once Vi was decently dressed she gave your a forehead kiss, "Call me if you need anything, I won't be gone long."

You grinned weakly and nodded, "Ba-bye."

A little while later, Vi returned with the pregnancy tests and the door clicked open, "Hey, babe, I'm back," she said, her voice wavering from nervousness as she walked inside the shared apartment.

She set the tests down, "So," she looked at you, "Do you wanna just take them now? Or..."

You got up, grabbing one test up, "Should I take two at once? It would be safer in case I get a false," you said, reading the instructions on the box.

"Sounds 'bout right, just— I never had to do I don't know," Vi said awkwardly scratching the back of her neck.

You giggled before picking up two tests and disappearing in the bathroom.

"I'll still be here if you need me," Vi quickly added, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door.

"Peeing on a stick shouldn't be that hard, right?" You called from the bathroom. Vi would've replied before she heard you do exactly what you said. That knocked the words down her throat.

"Y—...eah," Vi managed.

A little bit later, you put the tests on the bathroom counter waiting according to what the box said, "After 15 minutes it'll show," you told Vi.

Vi nodded and held your hand, "You nervous?"

"Of course I am, I never thought of being a mother until now and suddenly now that I think about it— you're gonna call me crazy but— I'm sorta' praying I am pregnant," you looked up at her, "Does that make me crazy?"

"No, of course not," Vi said reassuringly, rubbing circles on the back of your hand, "I respect whatever choice you make, it's your body," she smiled, "But of course I am happier that you choose to keep the child if you are pregnant."

You giggled and leaned against her body, "Because I'll finally be able to hold something over your head—"

"How? You're short as fuck," Vi looked down at you as if to exaggerate her point.

"Not that, you idiot!" You shoved her playfully, "I meant, I'll be able to say 'I gave birth to your child' whenever we fight and I get to use the labour hours to my advantage," you smirked, glancing at the test.

"Oh, you are evil," Vi said, also averting her gaze to the test.

"Only the finest."

The moment 15 minutes were over, you checked the tests and sure enough, it read positive.

You looked at Vi, who was already teary eyed, she picked you up bridal style and just squeezed you close like she'd merge herself with you.

"Oh my goodness," Vi whispered staring at the tests, "We're gonna be parents."

"Mhm," you giggled, leaning your head against Vi's chest, "Meaning you're gonna be doing whatever I tell you to because I call the shots."

"Got it, ma'am," Vi said with mock obedience making you roll your eyes.

"Y'know what— p-put me down, I think I'm feeling super pukey," you said and Vi quickly let you down, you opened your mouth to say something but shook your head, turning back to the toilet and retching.

"Well, you can start being a diva maybe after the morning sickness is over," Vi held your hair back, a small smile on her lips.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Jessica Wildfire

Our friends and family think they understand their immune system because George Carlin explained it to them in the 90s:

"Where did this sudden fear of germs come from? What do you think you have an immune system for? It's for killing germs. But it needs practice. It needs germs to practice on. If you kill all the germs around you, and lead a completely sterile life, then when germs do come along you're not going to be prepared. What are you gonna do? I'll tell you what, you're gonna get sick and you're gonna die and you're gonna deserve it because you're f-ing weak and you've got a f-ing weak immune system."

George Carlin was right about a lot of things, but he was wrong on this one.

(He got plastic wrong, too.)

Unfortunately, this part of his 11th HBO standup special became permanently lodged into the American cultural memory. I only saw it once as a kid, but it stayed with me for the rest of my life.

Not even AP Biology could dislodge it.

I, too, used to think you built your immune system up by exposing yourself to harmful germs. How could the great prophet George Carlin be mistaken on something that made so much intuitive sense, especially when you dropped a few f-bombs in there? I also thought it was a good thing to exercise your way through a cold. Then I opened myself up to the possibility that I was wrong.

In the words of Carl Sagan, I'd been bamboozled.

In early 2020, this Carlin bit inspired countless reaction videos that still litter the internet. Anti-science zealots have used George Carlin's monologue on disease thousands of times over the last four years to ridicule masks, vaccines, and clean air. Everywhere you look, that piece of standup looms in the background, and it's getting revived again for bird flu. But even George Carlin got the idea from somewhere else.

You can trace this misguided notion back to hygiene theory, proposed by David Strachan in 1989. Strachan argued that a whole range of health problems in the late 20th century had roots in "a lower incidence of infection in early childhood." Basically, our immune systems weren't getting enough exposure to bacteria and viruses. He was mainly talking about the rise in childhood allergies as the result, but the media began printing loose interpretations of his studies and jumping to conclusions that less exposure to disease was a bad thing in general. So the public developed the idea that somehow getting sick was good for you. So began the myth of the "bored immune system" that needed practice in order to stay healthy. Gurus and quacks latched onto this idea. So did talkshows.

And then comedians...

It wasn't until 2003 that Graham Rook offered a more accurate description of the situation. As he explained, "microbes have evolved into an essential role in regulating our immune system... the microbes involved are not infections, but friendly microbes which make up our human microbiome. These are acquired by exposure to other humans or animals and microbiota from our natural environment."

This became known as the "old friends hypothesis."

The old friends hypothesis now serves as the dominant model for how microbes work with our immune system. According to immunologists, kids need to be playing outside more and eating fresher, healthier foods. That's what helps their immune systems.

Getting sick all the time just hurts them.

Like many debunked ideas, hygiene theory and the myth of the bored immune system have become entrenched. A couple of years ago, hygiene theory got repackaged as "immunity debt." Now Americans, Canadians, and many Europeans think they need to get sick to stay healthy. The elites have absolutely no problem with that. It saves them countless billions to let everyone continue thinking they're better off letting diseases run around in their cells.

So:

Your immune system doesn't work like a muscle. It doesn't get stronger the more it's exposed to different harmful germs.

It doesn't need practice.

Phillipp Dettmer gives a vivid, accessible breakdown of the immune system in his 2021 book, Immune. You can show it to any internet troll who brags about their knowledge of the immune system. Dettmer destroys misinformation, explaining how your adaptive immune system actually works, as well as your gut microbiome.

As many articles and books explain, your body has an innate immune system that already knows how to fight off pathogens. You can help your immune system by feeding it the nutrients it needs. (That's an entirely different article.) You can protect your immune system from pollution, cigarette smoke, and other toxins. But genetics determines a lot of your immunological makeup. You can be born with an immune system that doesn't work the way it should, and it's not your fault.

You also have an adaptive immune system that stores chemical blueprints of pathogens in memory T and B cells. According to a 2024 article in Nature, these cells respond better to specific pathogens your body has seen before. Those blueprints last only as long as your memory cells. Sometimes those cells mature and stay around for years, even decades. If they don't, then your body won't remember the pathogen.

Your body doesn't need exposure to viruses.

Your immune system responds to harmful microbes and it can develop memories from previous infections. Most of the time, those memories apply specifically to that specific strain, variant, or clade of the virus. For example, immune memory to one type of adenovirus or rhinovirus doesn't confer automatic, guaranteed protection against all of them, and there are hundreds.

Sometimes, cross-protection can happen, but it's limited and hard to predict. When it does, like with the original smallpox vaccine, it's a big deal. If that were easy, we would already have a universal coronavirus vaccine and wouldn't have to update flu shots every year. Most of the time, getting sick with one virus doesn't train your body to respond any better to other viruses, especially when those viruses aren't related.

Victoria's state department of health puts it very plainly:

"The immune keeps a record of every microbe it has ever defeated, in types of white blood cells (B-lymphocytes and T-lymphocytes) known as memory cells. This means it can recognise and destroy the microbe quickly if it enters the body again, before it can multiply and make you feel sick. Some infections, like the flu and the common cold, have to be fought many times because so many different viruses or strains of the same type of virus can cause these illnesses. Catching a cold or flu from one virus does not give you immunity against the others."

You can add Covid to that list.

Some research has suggested that because catching one virus activates your innate immune system, your body's broad layers of defense offer brief protection against other pathogens. Viruses also compete with each other, meaning that infection from one virus can ward off others. That's called viral interference. Neither option means your immune system benefits from exposure to viruses.

We can't explain all of the human immune system in a single post, but here's the point. It's way more complicated than George Carlin explained. There's a lot more going on. It's not as simple as training your immune system by giving it practice.

That's not how it works.

It just sounds good.

No credible doctor or immunologist recommends building your immune system by welcoming viral and bacterial infections into your life. The costs far outweigh the benefits. Many viruses exact a price on your body and your immune system. Getting infected over and over again makes you weaker, not stronger. Vaccines don't work because they give your immune system practice. They work because they allow your body to develop a memory of a pathogen without all the risk.

Many viruses, like the flu, often leave lasting damage even when your immune system fights them off. Your immune system actually does some of that damage itself by attacking infected cells. In the wake of flu, your entire body including your immune system needs time to recover. During that stage, you're vulnerable to opportunistic infections. Other viruses, like measles and ebola, disable your immune system and even wipe out memory cells.

That's also what Covid does, among many other things.

You can't develop full immunity to viruses that evade, attack, and disable large parts of your immune system. Sometimes you can develop partial immunity, but the virus still invades and still does damage every time. Just because you can recover from these infections, that doesn't mean you're better off afterward.

Think of it like this:

Your body already knows how to heal its skin and bones. You don't have to teach it how to do that by cutting yourself or breaking your arm.

As it happens, many westerners also think bones grow back stronger after they're broken and scar tissue is tougher than normal skin.

That's also false.

Scar tissue remains functionally deficient in many ways compared to uninjured skin. Broken bones form a temporary calcium callus that's stronger than ordinary bone, but it's eventually replaced.

These misguided ideas fit in a culture obsessed with tough love, the idea that abusing someone somehow builds their character. And while it might make you interesting, it's certainly not "good" for you.

Sometimes I wonder what George Carlin would think about having one part of a standup special used to endorse bad science and eugenics. I'd like to think he would have a problem with it.

There's a lot you can do to boost your immune system.

Getting sick isn't one of them.

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 10

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

Waaaaah so so sO sorry abt sUCH a long wait btwn chapters, I had a huge commission to write!! Tysm to the person who commissioned my longest one shot yet <3

And without further ado, hope y’all enjoy ch 10!!

Commissions are open!

Check out my ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

Masterlist: x

What Makes You Tick Masterlist

Taglist: @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @kindadolly @guineveresghost @cedarwood-05

Divider by @plum98

Toby’s words stick with you.

Even as you shower after eating, rinsing away the dried dirt and fresh peeling wounds from your damaged skin, you can't stop thinking about what he said.

There’s no going back.

Your first thought is that he’s lying.

He’s trying to intimidate you into behaving. He's trying to strip away your few remaining scraps of hope to break you down into a perfectly compliant victim.

It might just be the denial talking, but you don't trust it—don't trust him—even despite your previous inclination that he might not be all that bad.

You force yourself to forget that disarming look in his eyes as you scrub the filth from beneath your nails.

No going back.

Then again, there's always the possibility that you've got it all wrong.

Maybe he'd meant it as more of a warning than a threat. Maybe he was implying that the longer you stick around, the less likely you are to make it out alive.

Maybe it was his way of warning you to escape the very first chance you get—before it's too late.

You avoid the mirrors as you change into the fresh set of clothes they left out for you. Even though it's kind of ridiculous, you don't have it in you to face the hard truth; this nightmare's changed you. You're afraid of what you might find in your reflection.

With nowhere else to go and nothing else to do, you end up returning to the room you woke up in, right across the hall.

You close the door behind yourself, then dump your dirty bundle of clothes onto the drawer and sit on the bed.

Your skin's buzzing.

You're strangely out of breath, and you feel undeniably weak. The stress of this whole thing is getting to you; you feel the early warning signs of a fever creeping in through your immune system.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

It's ok, you're ok. You're all alone now, and, for the time being, you're safe.

It works for the first few minutes, but after a few more deep breaths, your lungs start to feel... off.

It's like something's clinging to the inside of your chest.

You try to cough through it, but to no avail. It doesn't clear your lungs and, if anything, you're instead greeted with the taste of blood once more.

When you try to cough one more time, the room starts to spin and teeter around you.

You furrow your brows, trying to shake the feeling away.

Something rings in your ears—a low, quiet hum that turns into a murmur of static filling your mind.

It’s not the first time this happens.

Your attention snaps to the window, almost like muscle memory.

Your sight's drawn to the darkness of the woods. The leaves rustle on their branches; a warning sign that a storm's about to hit. Dark, roiling clouds overtake the sunlight.

You shake your head again.

In an attempt to distract yourself from the throbbing noise inside your head, you think about Toby.

You debate seeking him out—alone again, without the other two around—to figure out what’s happening. The brief glimpses of information he offered this morning weren't enough to satisfy you, and after digesting your food and showering, you're finally in a better headspace to talk to him.

Or, at least, you would be, if that mind-numbing static wasn't persisting.

You ignore the urge to look outside again.

You try to think about something else—anything else to distract yourself from wanting to investigate the forest.

But it doesn’t help.

Goosebumps nip at your skin. The hairs at your nape stand stiff, and though you’re not looking at it, it almost feels like the woods are looking at you.

You purse your lips. You’re being ridiculous; no one’s watching you. You’re in the middle of nowhere—what could possibly even be out there?

While you could theoretically bite the bullet and look, you just can’t bring yourself to do so. You try to wait for the feeling to pass, but it lingers, and you feel increasingly anxious just sitting around and doing nothing.

Leave the room.

It seems like the next best option. You look at the door just a few feet away. It'd be as good a time as any to seek Toby out. Hell, at this point, you'd even go to Hoodie or Masky if it meant a decent distraction. You feel so vulnerable alone.

It seems like a good idea, and yet, when you tell yourself to move, you can't. You’re paralyzed.

As though some old instinct of self-preservation has kicked in, you can't bring yourself to budge. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until your lungs start to burn.

Sweat beads at your hairline.

And yet, none of these reactions seems logical. All things considered, you're in about as safe a space as you could be in right now. No one else is around—as far as you're aware—and even if there was something in the woods, it's not like it could reach you through the closed window, anyway.

Something seems very, very wrong, but you just don't know what it is.

Toby. Where’s Toby?

It seems ironic; Toby's always the first person to come to mind whenever you need help.

You close your eyes and count backward.

The seconds tick by slowly, heavily. Like time is wading through quicksand.

Your hands are shaking on your lap. The static ebbs and flows in your mind, almost like the sound of the ocean. It’s rhythmic and methodical, and if you allowed yourself to succumb to it, it'd almost be... relaxing.

Your head hurts.

There's a pressure inside your skull threatening to split your head open. It's like something's slithered its way inside your brain and you're both crammed together and there's just not enough space for both of you.

You feel strangely violated.

The rush of static ebbs and flows—like someone breathing, you realize.

Something’s inside your head.

As soon as the thought comes to mind, you snap out of your paralysis.

You stand—too quickly, bringing another wave of dizziness through your system—and stumble to the door.

Out. You don't know what's going on—why you're suddenly going crazy. All you know is that you need to get out.

You grab the handle, turn it open... but it doesn’t budge.

No.

No, no, no—that’s not possible.

You just closed it behind you—you didn’t even lock it.

You twist it in the opposite direction and pull again—then twist it the other way and yank it as hard as possible, but it’s not opening.

Your hands are clammy, your heart pounding your eardrums.

It’s behind you, you know it is.

You don’t want to look back—but what other choice do you have?

Slowly, with the reluctance of someone clinging to the few remaining scraps of normalcy in their life, you turn around.

There, in front of you is… nothing.

But, out of your peripheral, you see it; an impossibly pale white face in the window. Said window, of which, is open.

It wasn’t open before.

You spin to face it, but there's nothing there. No faceless monster peering at you with eyes that aren't there.

But that window shouldn’t be open.

You walk forward.

As you get closer, you notice a single black spider crawling on the lip of the window. You watch as it weaves its web, like nothing about this place is amiss. And you suddenly can’t tell if you’re going crazy or if the world has turned on its head and you're the only normal one left.

As you’re thinking maybe you just need some sleep, that's when it happens.

Something long, razor-sharp and inky black, like a spider’s appendage, slowly steps in through the open window.

And that thing from outside is now in the room with you.

You open your eyes.

The ceiling looks familiar.

It looks like you’re in the small room of an old, somewhat dilapidated cabin.

You glance around, and a migraine pierces through your skull.

A flood of memories accompanies the pain.

That’s right, you think, the men brought you here.

You look outside. It’s dark. You wonder how long you’ve been sleeping for. You must’ve passed out from exhaustion—this whole thing has been wearing you down.

You sit up, then pause for a few seconds as a familiar rush of vertigo throws your balance off. And then once it passes, you plant your feet to the ground and slowly stand up.

You’re still wearing the clothes you put on after showering. You must’ve been really tired to fall asleep in them, because you hate sleeping with clothes on.

Either way, you don't overthink it too much as you stumble out of the room.

The hallway is dark and silent. There aren't any lights on, leaving your only source of light to be the bits of moonlight filtering in through the sparse windows around the cabin.

Is everyone sleeping?

You creep through the hall, the floorboards groaning as you press your weight down onto them.

Your first instinct, for some reason, isn’t to leave. It’s to check for Toby.

You stumble across a few rooms that aren’t too dissimilar from the one you woke up in. But they’re all empty.

Where the hell did they all go?

Eventually, you end up in front of the entrance door.

You hesitate.

It'd be so easy—you could just walk out. Walk away from this nightmare. And yet, you’re reluctant to do so. It somehow feels like a trap.

You stand in front of the doorway, waiting, contemplating something that you don’t quite fully understand.

There’s no going back.

You don’t want to die here, don’t want your complacency to be the end of you.

You grip the handle, turn the door open, and walk out.

You wake in a familiar place.

You’re in the small room of an old, somewhat dilapidated cabin.

That’s right, you think, you’re in your room.

Birds chirp outside, their song reaching you even through the closed window.

You sit up, only for the remnants of an old migraine to return. You flinch, cradling your head, and a deep cough racks through your lungs.

There's no denying it anymore; you're getting sick.

Once the cough subsides, you smell… pancakes?

The smell clears your mind for a brief moment of lucidity. You blink, taking another look at your surroundings, and again, you feel off.

This isn’t your room, you think. You want to go home.

With a shaky breath, you cough again, then stand.

You follow the smell of breakfast to the kitchen.

Toby’s cooking.

He’s poking at a fluffy pancake in the pan with a fork, while the other two men are sitting around the table, enjoying their breakfast.

They’re all wearing their masks, though Hoodie and Masky have theirs pushed to the side to eat. You’ve already seen part of Masky’s face, so his sideburns and stubble don’t surprise you, but it’s the first time you’ve seen Hoodie with his mask lifted over his nose.

You take note of his features, the shape and size of his lips and jaw, but otherwise pay him little mind. You’re too distracted by the promise of food.

Neither of them so much as glances in your direction as you make your way in. Except Toby.

When he turns around and sees you, he hums.

“Y-you’re up!”

He whistles a single note, then shakes the pancake out of the pan and onto a plate.

Your mouth waters at the sight.

You’re famished.

When he invites you to take a seat, you certainly don't argue with him.

You slip into the empty chair between Masky and Hoodie, and Toby fumbles to get the plate in front of you, along with a fresh mug of coffee and a cold bottle of water.

You waste no time digging in.

There’s milk and maple syrup on the table, which you gladly use. Even though it's hard to ignore the pill bottles scattered about the table, you pretend they're not there.

It's a strange situation to be in, all things considered. You never thought you'd be eating brunch alongside the three men who abducted you. But you're, at the very least, thankful they're ignoring you right now.

You shift in your seat, try to act like everything's normal, everything's fine, and wordlessly eat.

After breakfast, the three end up splitting ways. You inevitably stick with Toby, who invites you for a walk through the woods.

You're surprised he's ok with letting you out of the cabin, though you suppose it makes sense. As far as you can tell, this place is deep into the forest; you'd undoubtedly get lost if you even tried to escape.

You take a deep breath of fresh air as you walk alongside him.

The ground is still freshly wet from last night's rain. The leaves and foliage sparkles with a layer of morning dew, and even though it's early, with the sun having just recently crest upon the horizon, the forest is already awake and teeming with life.

Oddly enough, your mind is at peace.

You've been getting used to Toby's unpredictable jerky movements, and although it's probably not a good thing, you feel... relatively safe with him, despite everything.

The two of you are quiet for the first half hour or so, though the silence isn't unpleasant, nor is it unwelcomed. It lets you enjoy the sounds of the woods, and even Toby's low, quiet humming is... comfortable.

When the question inevitably comes to mind, you don't think twice before speaking it out loud.

“Toby, what’s… what’s going to happen to me?”

You feel his gaze shift to your face, and even through the goggles, you can feel the way his eyes search your expression.

He eventually looks away with a jerk of his shoulder. And when he doesn’t answer for a while, you almost think he's opted to ignore your question.

But then, he eventually answers, “You just have to trust me for now.”

It’s the same thing he told you yesterday—was it really only yesterday?—but the answer only satisfies you now as much as did then.

You shake your head.

“When you said there’s no going back… what did you mean by that?”

You don’t have the heart to ask what you’re really thinking; if it means they plan on killing you.

He hums contemplatively. A bird sings a note nearby, and he mimics the sound with a whistle. You wonder how often you’ll hear that same note whistled throughout the next few days.

“Means you’ll just have to trust me for now.”

You groan, and at the sound, he turns to look at you again. You wonder if he’s grinning, like he’s proud of his response.

“How can I trust you?” you emphasize, “In case you forgot—you’re the one who kidnapped me. You’re the reason I’m stuck here in the first place.”

He clicks his tongue, and takes another moment to think about his answer.

“I mean… either way, you—you don’t—don’t really have a choice. Because I’m just about all you have right—right now.”

You stop walking to face him fully.

“That’s not fair,” you insist, and the leaves shudder as a light breeze picks up around you.

Toby pauses mid-step. He faces you as well, and for a moment, it feels like you're the last two people left on the face of the earth.

“…Life isn’t fair.”

You don’t know what takes over you.

All of your frustration, all of your fear, worry and restlessness come crashing down at once. It fills the very marrow of your bones, knocking over any remaining shred of rational thought in favour of anger.

Pure, white, hot searing anger—for the time stolen from you, for the pain and discomfort you've been forced through, for all of the grief and misery that'll undoubtedly follow whatever cruel fate awaits you—all of it manifests itself towards the person in front of you.

The one person responsible for all of it.

You don't even realize you’ve slapped him until your hand is throbbing with pain from hitting his mouthguard.

As soon as you realize what you've done, you freeze.

Cold dread freezes over your anger, though a spark of wonderful satisfaction persists beneath it.

You expect him to get angry. You expect him to make you regret hitting him.

But he just stays there, face tilted away in the direction you slapped him. And, for some reason, it pisses you off that he doesn’t react.

That anger bubbles up again, and you raise your hand before you can properly think things through. But before you can hit him again, he catches your wrist mid-air.

You yelp as his fingers bruise into your skin. You try to twist away, but he’s as remarkably strong as ever.

He lifts his other hand, and you flinch, thinking he’s about to hit you twice as hard in revenge. But instead, he merely flicks one of the lenses of his goggles up.

You immediately stop struggling in his hold at that look in his eyes.

With the morning sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees and reflecting in his gaze, it brings out the green and shifts his usually deep brown eyes into an almost hazel kind of color.

Those flecks of gold are more pronounced than ever, nearly shimmering against the pitch black of his iris.

There isn’t anger, there’s… amusement in his gaze?

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“W-what?”

He releases your hand, which you quickly cradle into your chest, as if doing so could alleviate the fresh soreness.

“You know mine. It’s only—only fair you should tell me yours.”

You peer up at him, taking a good look at what little of his features you can see in an attempt to figure him out.

He meets your gaze unequivocally, though that hint of amusement seems to linger.

And then you snort.

“Why the fuck should I tell you my name? So you can stalk down my friends and family?”

It’s his turn to snort, accompanied by a roll of his eyes.

You get the sudden urge to push him down, pin him beneath you and scream some kind of sense into him.

Why can’t he see that this whole situation is absolute madness?

You swallow the urge back.

You don’t know where these sudden bursts of anger are coming from, but you’re thankful that they, at the very least, have been useful in masking your fear.

With a click of his tongue, Toby answers. “If we wanted to, we could’ve already done that… click… weeks ago.”

You’re about to argue with him—about to point out the irony of claiming they could’ve tracked down your whole social circle despite not knowing your name. But then that last part of his comment registers.

“…Weeks? What do you mean weeks?”

He tilts his head curiously.

“Well, two weeks, I guess, since we first took you to the hotel…”

He trails off at the look on your face.

“No… no, that’s not possible. It’s been one week max. I—you…”

You shake your head.

He’s fucking with you, he has to be.

He’s trying to confuse and disorient you—because there’s no way that’s true. If it was, it would mean you would’ve lost a whole week’s worth of time without realizing it.

You try to find a crack in his expression to confirm your suspicion.

But all you see is pure, honest sincerity, and a hint of curiosity in his one visible eye.

Eventually, you give up. It’s not like it’d change anything at this point, anyway.

When he notices the shift in your temperament, that look of amusement returns.

“How ‘bout we play a game, then,” he suggests.

And before you can say anything, he continues.

“21 questions. You answer all of my questions honestly, and I’ll do the same for yours.”

He extends a hand out, as though playing the game would be the equivalent to striking a deal with him.

You instinctively lift your hand, then hesitate.

And when you realize, fuck it, what do you possibly have to lose?, you tentatively reach out and shake hands with the devil.

[sturniololuvz]

hiii do you think you could make a fic where it’s matt x reader and she has the flu and matt takes care of her?? ❤️

okayy

“Sick & Snuggled”

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: You catch the flu and Matt takes care of you like the sweetheart he is. When he ends up getting sick too, you feel horrible—but he reassures you that being sick together just means more snuggles.

You weren’t sure what was worse—the chills or the headache—but both had you curled up in a cocoon of blankets on Matt’s bed, sniffling and absolutely miserable.

Matt, meanwhile, was on full caretaker mode.

He had your favorite tea steeping in the kitchen, a thermometer in one hand, and a soft washcloth in the other as he walked in. His brows furrowed as soon as he saw your flushed cheeks and watery eyes.

“Baby,” he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, “you look like a lil’ tomato.”

“I feel like a lil’ tomato,” you croaked, voice raspy.

He chuckled and gently placed the back of his hand to your forehead. “Yeah, still burning up. Let me check your temp again.”

You groaned as he slid the thermometer under your tongue, then leaned your head against his shoulder.

“I look disgusting,” you mumbled.

Matt shook his head, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Nope. Still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Even with snot on your face.”

You pulled back and gave him a dramatic glare. “You did not just say that.”

“I definitely did,” he grinned.

After helping you sit up and sip on some tea, he got you tucked back in, adjusted the pillows behind you, and even put on your comfort movie. Then he crawled into bed beside you—despite your protests.

“Matt, I’m gonna get you sick.”

He shrugged. “Worth it.”

⸻

Two days later…

Matt was bundled under the same pile of blankets, tissues shoved under his pillow, groaning.

You sat beside him with a fresh cup of tea, eyes glossy with guilt. “I told you not to get so close,” you sniffled, voice still half-broken.

He reached for your hand and gave it a weak squeeze. “Told you it was worth it.”

“But now you’re sick too and I feel awful,” you said, eyes filling up. You blinked fast, trying not to cry, but the tears were already falling.

“Hey, hey,” Matt rasped, sitting up with effort and reaching for you. “Don’t cry, baby, c’mere.”

You climbed into his arms like it was second nature, even if you were both germy and gross.

“I didn’t want you to feel like this,” you whispered into his chest.

He kissed the top of your head, his lips warm against your hair. “If feeling like this means I get to cuddle you all day? Sign me up. Every time.”

You sniffled. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re mine. Now shut up and let me snuggle my flu buddy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh—raspy and soft, but real.

Wrapped up together under the covers, neither of you felt quite as miserable anymore.

You and Matt were a matching pair of messes: tangled in blankets, tissues scattered like confetti, and a mix of cough drops and half-empty mugs on the nightstand. Still, you were smiling. Matt had one arm around your waist, his face buried in your shoulder, while you absentmindedly played with his hair.

That’s when the door slammed open.

“DUDE.” Chris’s voice immediately filled the room. “Are you serious right now?”

You both jumped, groaning dramatically at the sudden noise. Matt didn’t even open his eyes.

“What?” he asked, voice muffled and clearly over it.

“You’re both sick and you’re just… cuddling like it’s a romcom flu montage?!” Chris gagged, standing in the doorway with an exaggerated look of horror. “This is how apocalypses start, Matthew.”

You groaned, burying your face into Matt’s hoodie. “Can you not?”

Chris stepped closer but still kept his distance like the air was poisoned. “This is foul. I’m calling the CDC.”

Nick’s voice came from down the hall. “Chris, stop being dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Chris pointed at the bed like he was exposing a crime scene. “They’re literally breathing into each other’s mouths. In this economy? With those immune systems?!”

Matt cracked one eye open, smirking. “You done?”

“No! Because I know I’m next. I’m gonna be sneezing in, like, twelve hours because you two can’t keep your bacteria to yourselves.”

You couldn’t help it—you started laughing, which triggered a coughing fit, which made Matt pat your back gently while also laughing.

Chris backed up toward the hallway. “Disgusting. I hope you’re both happy. I’m spraying Lysol in your honor.”

As soon as the door shut, Matt turned to you and whispered with a sleepy grin, “I am happy.”

You smiled back. “Even with the fever and mucus?”

He nodded. “Especially with the fever and mucus. You’re still my girl.”

You kissed his cheek and curled back into him, and from the hallway, Chris’s voice shouted, “OH MY GOD, I heard that!”

⸻

[taojjang]

𐙚 a cold... on christmas?! ᯓ riize when you catch a cold before the holidays

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ advent calendar, day three! pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: fluffy fluff, warnings: sickness and medication!

made this cus i have the immune system of a victorian child and i need reassurance that i won't die alone in my sleep one day

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shotaro . . .

taro would be super devastated that he can't live christmas with you to the fullest :( even though it's such an important time to be together, you forbade him from coming over because you don't want to ruin his holiday season by getting him sick. but of course, that won't stop him from giving you the best christmas you could ask for.

on christmas morning, you wake up to taro leaving soft kisses on your cheek. "baby, why are you here? i told you not to come." taro giggles and lies right beside you, pulling you into his arms. "how could i leave you all alone on christmas?" your heart melts in an instant and you leave a long kiss on his lips. taro brushes the hair away from your face and asks, "how do you feel, honey? should we exchange gifts after you take medicine?" taro is truly the sweetest :(

eunseok . . .

eunseok is practically your personal nurse with how often he takes care of you and gives you medical advice— constantly scolding you for not wearing gloves during cold days or for going out without completely drying your hair. though it's overbearing at times, you can't deny he's the sweetest boyfriend for looking after you.

eunseok can't stand seeing you so down. he's typically the person to take care of you when you're sick, but seeing you in so much pain during the happiest time of the year takes a toll on him. yet no matter how terrible your condition is, eunseok is going to find a way to make things fun. he would come into your room beaming from ear to ear, excitedly telling you he had an early christmas present for you. turns out it was just your antibiotics wrapped in paper and a bow... "surprise!" "go to hell..." all jokes aside, he'd wake you up on christmas morning with breakfast in bed and he'd bring all the gifts to you so you wouldn't have to get up <3

sungchan . . .

whenever you're in pain, sungchan is in pain too. he can't stand seeing you so weak and uncomfortable :( whenever you're sick, he's always coming home from work with your favorite food or whatever you're craving and he'd never dismiss a request of yours. even when you're not sick, channie is always spoiling you with everything you could ask for.

so of course, nothing differs when you catch a cold on christmas. sungchan would spoil you rotten once you fall sick. he feels utterly useless seeing you so gloomy during the holidays, so he'd try anything to lift your spirits. and that's when he reaches his master plan— an advent calendar! from now til christmas morning, he'd come home with a new gift each day. the gifts range from pretty necklaces and shiny shoes to simply your favorite snacks. sungchan truly knows you in and out <3

"you don't have to do this, baby."

"anything for my princess!"

wonbin . . .

wonbin is so used to being on the receiving end of all the pampering and attention, so when it's his turn, he gets so self conscious :( when you're sick, he'd treat you as if your bones were built of glass, holding you so delicately and kissing your sickness away. but he knew he'd have to do much more once you grew sick before christmas.

once you tell him you don't feel well, he'd go out on a hunt to grab every medication possible. once he returns, he'd rush to your side and remain there for hours and hours. he'd never ever leave you alone, waiting around for you to tell him what you need. he'd work endlessly toward your recovery before christmas day: taking you to the doctor and taking so many precautions to keep you safe (though it's only a common cold..). but when you're still not feeling well on christmas eve, he pulls all stops and simply focuses on making you happy. he bakes little christmas cookies for you and cuddles you to sleep, telling you how lucky he is to be able to spend christmas with you :(

seunghan . . .

seunghan is absolutely crushed whenever you're feeling down, let alone sick. as your personal cheerleader, how could he cheer you on when you're dying of a common cold?!

but of course, genius hong always finds a way to make you smile. though his heart was shattered when he heard you were sick only three days before christmas, he knew he had to spring into action asap. so he got you a silly little elf on the shelf! on the first morning, you woke up to an elf lying beside you: he was tucked under the covers with a brand new teddy bear for you. the second morning, the elf greeted you in the bathroom, sitting in a toilet paper igloo on the counter, holding onto your toothbrush. finally, on christmas morning, the elf was sitting on your bedside table with a huge bouquet for you, having a note telling you how lovely you look while you're sleeping :(

"angel! did you like the elf's gift this morning?"

"of course! he's just a bit.. creepy."

sohee . . .

you and sohee often remain independent, rarely complaining about serious things. your relationship is simply chill: never any drama, just vibes. but sohee can't remain mysterious and nonchalant when you're coughing like an old man beside him.

when you tell him you haven't been feeling good, he furrows his eyebrows and yelps, "during christmas?!" sohee's been planning so many fun christmas dates yet you're sick?! gosh, he's conflicted. he remains calm and collected, but now he has to plan out an entire new holiday itinerary. but do not fret, for sohee is your smart boy! the next day, sohee sets up a little bed fort and makes it super comfy, making sure not to forget the humidifier to keep you warm. you laugh, reaching out to hug the dork in front of you.

"you're the cutest, sohee."

"we can watch movies together here! if we can't go out and have fun, we might as well have fun together here!"

anton . . .

when it comes to you, anton is the most empathetic boy ever. after all, you're the light of his life. whatever you're feeling, he's feeling it ten times stronger for you. you're sad? he's crying beside you. you're mad? he's breaking pencils in the corner of his room. you're sick? he is on his knees hurling at the thought of you being in pain.

anton would be so utterly heartbroken seeing you sick during his favorite time of the year </3 poor baby had so many things planned for the two of you.. :( anton would rot in bed with you, cuddling you and kissing your worries away (though he'd be much more worried about you). he'd probably buy a few late christmas gifts just to make you feel better. the day you'd get sick, he'd even allow you to open a gift early to get your spirits up.

"thank you, tonie! you're truly the best :("

"of course, my love! i just need you to get better soon before i explode :)"

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ tag list! (send an ask to be added!)

@endtostartbreathin @gacktsa @hanninova

[olailamajnoon]

Kara Zor-El was sneezing out into a clump of tissues what sounded like heavy glutinous nasal discharge.

Clark was looking at her without much sympathy. The rest of the Justice League were looking at Kara with fascinated revulsion.

"You have a cold," Bruce observed.

"You are the world's greatest detective!" Kara replied, awed.

"How," said Bruce. "How did this happen."

"She was exposing herself to Kryptonite," said Clark, turning to Kara with a look that said she deserved every bit of what she was going through.

"To build my resistance!" said Kara." I'm not going to be vulnerable to and at the mercy of a puny green element!" She sneezed again for a long time into the napkin, and by the time she was done the entire Justice League looked faintly like they were about to throw up their breakfasts.

"So your compromised immune system got infected by an Earth virus," said Bruce calmly.

"He's a brilliant man," said Kara, turning to Clark. "I can see why you keep him around."

"If you die," said Clark, "don't you dare come haunt me. Let the record show that I tried to dissuade you from hurting yourself."

"Ghosts don't do rules. I will come haunt both of you," said Kara, pointing at Bruce and Clark. "Just for shits and giggles, and because I can."

Bruce was giving her a Look.

"Hey, don't you dare look at me like that!" said Kara. "It's not my fault I don't feel safe around you, Mr. Contingency Plans Consisting Mostly of Kryptonite."

Bruce was still staring at her, saying nothing.

"He's still giving me the Look," Kara said, pointing and turning to Clark. Clark opened his mouth and closed it.

Kara sneezed again, noisily and moistly.

"Take your disgusting mucus-filled sinuses elsewhere," Bruce snapped.

"Don't tell me you're a germaphobe." Kara smiled serenely.

"I'm an idiot-phobe," said Bruce.

Kara sighed. "I just want to be a better fighter. A better...whatever it is I do. If I get taken down everytime by a green glowy rock, it just...sucks."

Bruce steepled his fingers and leaned forward, and began talking earnestly. "When you joined the League, you signed a few papers, making your health and well-being a League monopoly. You do not own your person anymore. Your body is a Justice League asset, and what that means is, you cannot hurt yourself—for any reason—without permission from the team. You do not so much as stub your toe without our say-so."

"That sounds deeply disturbing," said Kara.

"If you find it deeply disturbing, you are free to leave." Bruce's mouth was firm. Kara turned to look at Clark. Clark was looking at the table.

"Clark?"

"It's one of the by-laws," Clark said finally. "Technically the Justice League can hold you responsible for any self-harm. That's why I told you to read the papers before you signed them."

"What?!"

"Now the JLA can sue you for damages to League property."

"I don't—I don't even have a legal presence, oh my god!"

"So, Kara," said Bruce, frowning. "What's it going to be? The door or the rules?"

"I wanna punch you both so bad right now!"

"Understandable," Bruce said. "But ultimately your health is a priority. You're not to do this again."

"I have to second that, Kara," said Diana softly. "If you had mental health issues that would be one thing. But you did this not to escape from any pain, but simply to...I don't know, prove yourself?"

Kara's face was white. "You people," she said finally, "are the world's biggest arseholes."

Hal Jordan huffed a laugh. "We can sue you though. So knock it off."

"I guess I have no choice?" Kara said hesitantly.

"None whatsoever," said Bruce. "The next incident of you injecting Kryptonite into your body, you will be suspended."

"Indefinitely," said Diana. "We are not a group of friends who hang out in silly costumes. We are a team, with definite goals and objectives. The fate of humanity very often lies in our hands. Being vulnerable isn’t a weakness, not trusting your team is."

Kara felt guilty and relieved at the same time. The Kryptonite was humming in her blood. Weakness. "Fine," she said, sulkily. It wasn't worth it, getting kicked from the League just to be a cold-ridden Kryptonite-laden corpse.

"You'll have to do better than fine," said Hal gently. "Give us your word. No more idiotic experiments."

"I give you my word, dipshits," said Kara bitterly, and looked at Clark.

Clark looked relieved. "You'll be fine, Kara. It's okay to feel...like you've got to carry the whole world's weight on your shoulders. But sometimes you gotta let go, kid."

"Letting go is the story of my fucking life!" Kara snarled. She got up and tottered out of the room, slamming the door in her wake. The sound echoed silently for a while.

"So," said Hal once she was gone. "Whose brilliant idea was it to come up with that bullshit? About that clause in those documents?"

"She was hurting herself," Clark said dimly.

"And I knew," says Bruce, "that she wouldn't listen to reason. She needed a compelling...threat."

"You fucking a-hole control freak," Hal muttered.

"But Bruce, what if she goes searching the contracts for those by-laws?" asked Barry timidly.

"It's a long afternoon for me," said Bruce, holding up a sheaf of papers, "of retroactively editing signed documents."

"You mean forgery," said Diana.

Bruce smiled grimly. "Potato po-tah-to."

"So, I'm guessing," said Hal, "that I can sue you for that time you forced me to take my League salary on pain of expulsion."

"You’d lose," said Bruce casually, getting up. "I have better lawyers."