#sana sana colita de rana

[iamdarkness]

Summoner: La cancion Sana sana colita de rana no existe en Askr :(

Ratatoskr:

Lo chistoso es que la primera vez que lo vi estava en Ingles y me recordo a la cancion y cuando lo vi en Espanol mori!!

[crazyskirtlady]

[help-im-egg]

These were my parents chanting funky little rhymes in Spanish and giving me socks so my sore throat would go away :]

I'm looking back at random things I was taught as a kid by various adults and media and. did nobody bother to factcheck anything? was that just not an option or

[boredariana]

Can we get an updated rhyme about my mental health instead...

[ane-doodles]

I have commissions, sketches and prompts that I want to draw... but my tummy hurts... noooooooo

[ritzy-biscuit]

I saw someone's Hogwarts Legacy character wearing as close to a sombrero as you can get and the comments are sending me! 😂😂😂 it's so funny. ("Magic Juan" 😂)

But now I want a game about vaquero wizards. Like Red Dead Redemption but with magic. I wanna be a gunslinger wizard. Let's hunt some chupacabra!

[justakennyoshi]

I feel sm better

I'm sick ): is a big pain bc I don't even know why I'm feeling like this like I didn't do anything and I got randomly sick

[galadrielspeaks]

woke up with that sore throat you get that doesn’t go away when you drink the day’s first sip of water. just put me in the dirt already

[coleoffduty]

what has brightened my moment of ailment is that all of the women in my family are going to go watch barbie in mexico when it comes out,,, im so fucking excited

[wishiwasamallard]

So I’ve started scanning some of my favorite sketches so I can try recreating them better on Procreate (and also have a copy).

This guy is called Sana Sana. If you know you know lol.

[soloen]

[spoopy-sloth]

I need these steroids to kick in >:V There's only so much I can handle not being in pain

[lacedinweb22]

Miguel babies you when you’re sick ⁺‧₊˚ boyfriend headcanons Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader  

nsfw 18+ towards end

⊹ At the first sign of a cold, he’s on it, forcing you to stay on the couch, drink water, and take zinc supplements every three hours. You tell him to stay away, but he insists that his immune system will fight it off, which always proves true. He wraps you up in blankets and cuddles you. 

⊹ You’ll dig your face in his neck, groaning and complaining about the aches you feel all over, while he massages your neck dipping his fingertips up into your hair, massaging your neck, then tracing down to your back. His hands are so strong, he effortlessly gives you the best massages of your life. He whispers into your hair, “Sana sana colita de rana. Dame un besito para hoy y mañana” (Heal heal little frog's tail. Give me a little kiss for today and tomorrow).

⊹ He’ll make you soup, bringing it to you in a mug so you can sip on it as he wraps you up in his arms while you watch your favorite comedy together. He’ll give you endless kisses on your head as he holds you. 

⊹ As you’re curled up against his chest, kissing his neck gently, he’ll massage your thighs, which eventually progresses to his face in between your thighs as he wants so desperately to make you feel good when you feel so shitty. 

⊹ He’ll drink you up. He’ll place gentle kisses around your heat, before going straight to town, lapping at your core as you arch your back against the blankets under you, moaning and whining from the pleasure, the much-needed release of tension from your body. As he sucks gently on your sensitive bud, his hands explore your thighs then go up under your t-shirt and onto your belly, as he squeezes, and massages your warm flesh. His fingers massage your lower belly, making you more sensitive, bringing you your orgasm, the first of many. 

⊹ He runs you a hot shower and joins you, carefully lathering soap all over you, his big hands massaging your aching body. He sits down on the ledge, rubbing soap onto your thighs, hips, and stomach, then tracing his big hands up to your breasts, gently massaging as he looks up at you lovingly. He gets back up and urges you to turn around so he can rinse the soap from your hair. He gently combs his lengthy fingers through your locks then moves your hair, giving himself access to your neck, kissing and sucking gently on wet skin. “I’m sorry you’re sick, cariño,” he mutters into your neck. “Make me feel better,” you whisper back, pressing your ass against him. He does just that, turning you back around so he can kiss you, and press you up against the tile wall. He holds your thigh against his hip, opening you up, and thrusting up into you slowly, gently, providing endless kisses, endless words of encouragement, “Like that, baby. Does that feel good, princesa? Am I making you feel better?” he’ll whisper, brushing your wet hair from out of your face. Your nails dig into the back of his biceps, as you look up at him, head thrown back against the tile, moans and heavy breathing echoing through the steamy bathroom. His tip massages up into your g-spot, his slow strokes bringing the blissful ache in your stomach down to your thighs, as you begin to c*m around him, throbbing as he bottoms out into you, muttering cuss words as his lips brush against your forehead. 

⊹ After your shower, he'll massage vaporub onto your neck and chest, then help you put on your pajamas (one of his t-shirts and sweats), then he’ll give you some hardcore cold medicine, the kind that is quick to knock you out. He insists you get in bed, but you want to watch more of your show. So he’ll oblige and spoon you sideways on his big couch as you both watch TV, his hands running all over you, under your t-shirt, massaging you, feeling you, actively trying to find ways to make you feel better. He’s propped up on one elbow as you lay in front of him. He eventually sees you’ve succumbed to the medicine and so easily carries you to bed.

[leuksnas]

permanece inmóvil por unos momentos, observando con curiosidad aquello en posesión del castaño y cerrando paraguas transparente para esconderse bajo el techo del mismo local, ahí donde pequeñas gotitas golpetean estruendosa melodía. su curiosidad sobre por qué el contrario ostenta las llaves de esa tienda se hace evidente en su mirada, una que sólo aumenta ante aquella duda que cree percibir en accionar ajeno. ' me haces sonar como una criminal ' recrimina con lo que para ella es gracia, más es impalpable en su tono de voz. el clic de la puerta se puede oír en lo que se adentra en molesta oscuridad. conociendo el local, era cuestión de tiempo para que chocara con algo invaluable. ' ¿ no tienes alguna lámpara, un farol, algo por aquí ? ' consulta, moviéndose con ligereza y de a poco. ' venía por un ungüento que el dueño del lugar suele prepararme, ¿ no creo tener tanta suerte de que sepas cómo preparar ese tipo de cosas, o sí ? '. @romaahn

' está cerrado. ' lleva así unos pocos días, según tiene entendido desde boca de su sire. pero eso no era ningún impedimento para él. roman sacó un manojo de llaves del interior de su abrigo y con maestría cogió una específica, dorada y desgastada, para hundirla en la cerradura. hacerla ceder le tomó cosa de segundos, adentrarse en el lugar lo pensó un poco más. estaba allá por órdenes de jiyeon... en ningún lugar de las instrucciones tenía permitido que alguien más se le uniera. pero... seguro no pasaba nada, ¿cierto? ' ven. ' llama después de una pausa cargada de silencio, ahora haciendo un movimiento con la cabeza para que no se quede atrás. ' asegúrate de cerrar detrás de ti. ' ordena dándole la espalda y caminando en el interior como si se lo supiera de memoria. ' ¿en qué asuntos estabas metida? ' @leuksnas

[honestsycrets]

Miguel does the latine mom thing where they put their lips to your forehead to check if you have a fever or not

❛ sy | drabble below. yeah, he's totally not murmuring sana, sana colita de rana. mention of chronic illness, sickness.

Miguel woke from his short-lived nap with a start, his heart strumming, constricting his breath in his chest. His sheets were laden with sweat, crumpled up over his body. Not from his preferred night of your body against his, fingers laced together, his name beating off your lips.

You slept last night. Longer than you had before, longer than you usually did. He forgot-- sometimes, the delicate nature of your existence. Your tomorrow would be better.

"Miggy, her internal temp--"

Shh, cállate. Miguel hisses over his shoulder. She would wake you up. Lyla's eyes pop wide behind her love-tinted glasses. The gentle rise and drop of your chest doesn't go unnoticed. He settles his broad forearm down, minding the splay of your hair, pulling himself free. The pads of his fingers traced your cool skin, slightly sticky to the touch. The fever-- he tests, gliding his full lips over your relaxed forehead in something of a kiss. A test.

Lyla quirked her head.

"...is normal. Por fin." Miguel finishes, settling his head back on the fluffy pillow, his arm migrating to your slight waist, pulling it against his muscular chest. His eyelids finally-- finally drew to a peaceful close. He could finally sleep.