#the other who has a 102.7 fever

[the-broken-pen]

I adore your writing style! If you want could you do something about a hero with wings?

The villain rounded the corner into the alley just in time to watch the hero nudge the boot of the body in front of them with their foot, face considering.

“For a hero, you kill an awful lot of people,” the villain pointed out, and the hero turned to stare at them, blood splattered across their pure white wings.

“What, that?” The hero kicked the boot of the body strewn across the concrete below them. “This is community service.”

The villain tipped their head at the body. “Does he know that?”

“I think he’s figuring it out,” the hero grinned, and the villain could do nothing more than stare at them, slightly dumb, for a second.

“How the fuck are they still calling you archangel when you keep murdering people in broad daylight.”

The hero shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t even know why they started calling me that in the first place, to be honest.”

The villain made a mocking face at them, and the hero made one back. “Oh, with the pure white wings and dazzling face, I wonder.”

The hero clasped a still bloody hand to their chest. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you belong in a jar of formaldehyde.”

The hero dropped their hand, sighing. “Funny, because everyone else keeps writing fanfiction in my honor. And trust me, they have very strong opinions on my appearance.”

The hero’s grin couldn’t be described as anything other than catlike, pleased and sharp. Their wings cocked behind them.

“I’m sorry, you read fanfiction about yourself?”

“Don’t be jealous, there’s plenty about you, too.”

The villain spluttered. “I’m not jealous–”

“Sounds like it.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t bring that douche canoe into this,” the hero said, looking up. “His ego is the size of the titanic and I am doing my very best to sink that fucker.”

The villain gaped at them. “That is not very ‘innocent angel baby of the media’ of you.”

The hero kicked the boot of the body once more, and the villain winced. “Will you stop that–”

“Oh, sorry,” the hero looked down at the body. “Do you mind?” They turned back to the villain , gesturing with their thumb over their shoulder. “He says he doesn’t mind.”

“Archangel,” the villain repeated. “Fallen angel, saint of the city–”

“Listen, people will excuse anything if it comes from a pretty package.”

“What, so you use your pretty face to get away with murder?”

“No, I commit murder, and I happen to be pretty, and for some reason everyone is plenty fine with excusing the murder because of that fact. I’d be doing it regardless,” the hero confided. “My murderous tendencies continue whether or not I am forgiven for them.”

“What, so you just murder anyone you feel like?”

The hero gasped. “I’m not a monster,” they said, the corner of their mouth twisting into a wry grin. “My mother raised me right.”

The villain got the sense they were on the wrong side of an inside joke.

“That was decidedly not an answer to my question.”

The hero groaned. “You’re absolutely no fun right now. No, I only kill bad people. I’m a good samaritan.”

“I think we need to redefine your idea of what that term means.”

“Okay, if I was going around killing anyone who annoyed me, I would have a way longer rap sheet. Like people who cut in line. Not to mention how fucking annoying it is when someone decides to DIY a summoning circle in their basement and I have to handle that mess. Do you know how annoying it is to get magically butt dialed by a white woman on a random ass Tuesday?”

The villain blinked. “Uh. Can’t say I do, no.”

The hero ran a hand down their face in annoyance, smearing blood behind as they went. The villain cringed, but it didn’t seem to bother the hero in the slightest. 

“It’s really fucking annoying.”

“You also swear a lot,” the villain noted. “Not very heroic.”

“I think we can both agree I remain very firmly planted in the vigilante section of the spectrum,” the hero gestured with their hands to some imaginary chart. The villain squinted at them. “Also, what are you, the language police?”

“Uh,” the villain said, and the hero smiled innocently at them. There really wasn’t anything to say to that. “No?”

“Tell me, you pick up lots of girls with that suave demeanor of yours?”

The villain bristled at that. “You–I–ugh,” the villain groaned. “Did it hurt?”

The hero’s head tipped slightly to the side, endlessly amused. “Hmm?”

“When you fell from heaven,” the villain continued, and it was quite possibly the dumbest thing to have ever come out of their mouth, but this entire conversation bordered on a level of unhinged they hadn’t thought possible. 

The hero blinked once, twice, then burst into laughter, doubling over. Their wings ruffled in a way the villain had long since learned meant amusement.

The villain flushed. 

“You really think I fell from heaven?”

“I don’t know,” the villain said defensively. “It’s just a dumb pick up line–”

“You said it with an awful lot of certainty, though,” the hero countered, and the villain wished they had something to throw at them. 

“What was I supposed to think, with a name like Archangel and blinding white wings?”

The hero shrugged one shoulder.

“Have you ever actually met an angel before?” the hero asked, then amended, “other than me?”

“No,” the villain admitted.

“They don’t go around killing people, that’s for sure. Bunch of stuffy–”

Lightning cracked across the sky, and the ground rumbled slightly.

The hero groaned, wings tucking in. Blood flaked onto the ground. “What, you’re both pissed at me?”

A gust of wind whipped past them, hurtling down the alley, there one second and gone the next, and the hero let out a sigh. “Sorry.”

They did not sound sorry.

“Both?”

The hero looked back at them, and this time when they grinned, it was slightly sheepish.

“Yeah,” they said. “God, and, you know. My mom. Raised me right, remember?”

The villain was an idiot.

“You didn’t fall,” the villain confirmed, and the hero nodded their head. “Though I’m sure you absolutely would have earned that by now, if you were going to.”

The hero reared back, like they were about to spit something rude, but the villain continued before they could.

“Please, please tell me your father isn’t Lucifer,” the villain said, and the hero rubbed a hand across the back of their neck.

They laughed slightly. “Uh. About that.”

“Oh my god,” the villain said, and the hero didn’t even look upset about the reference. “You’re from hell.”

“You could call me an avid climber,” the hero offered, and the villain just looked at them.

“You’re an angel from hell,” the villain said.

“Technically, I’m an archangel from hell. So like, the media wasn’t exactly wrong with that one.”

The villain could write a killer memoir about this.

“This makes so much sense.”

The hero frowned. “I don’t like the implications of that.”

“You literally kill people.”

“Bad people,” the hero corrected. “We’ve discussed this.”

“I feel like that violates some sort of cosmic rule. There has to be some rule that breaks.”

“What?”

The villain gestured vaguely. “You’re self supplying your hometown.”

The hero laughed at that. 

“This really is not that big of a deal.”

“You’re a nepo baby.”

“And you’re awfully comfortable saying that to a literal child of satan.”

“If you wanted me dead, I would be.”

The hero weighed their head from side to side. Their wings moved behind them, as if they, too, were considering. “True.”

The villain found themself rubbing a hand over their brow. “You kill people, and you get away with it because you’re pretty, and people think you’re a child of god. When actually, you’re a child of Satan, and you crawled your way out of hell to wreak havoc on my life.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I did it,” the hero said dryly. “To fuck with you.”

“I would not put it past you,” the villain countered. 

“You were not my reason,” the hero said. They slid a step closer, hand curling into the villain’s collar, and the villain's mouth went dry. “But you are awfully pretty.”

“You’re literally an angel–”

“Which means it’s high praise,” the hero murmured, wings curving over the tops of their shoulders, and up close they looked even softer than the villain had thought they would. Their eyes stayed firmly planted on the villain’s lips, and the villain had no idea how they had gotten here but they were confused about it and also not quite mad–

“If you’re trying to woo me to distract me from the fact that you’re a dark angel, it’s not working.”

“Isn’t it?”

The villain swallowed. 

“You know, all that fan media includes you,” the hero said casually, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

“You really thought I read it just for me?” the hero grinned, stepping back, hand falling away from the villain. “Oh, please.”

The villain opened their mouth to say anything, then closed it, then opened it again.

The hero’s eyes were laughing at them.

“Maybe the bloodshed is partially because I want your attention,” the hero mused. “Or maybe not. You’ll never know, will you, human.”

They said it like an endearment.

“You–”

The hero nodded. “Yeah. I tend to do that to people.”

“I don’t–”

“If it means anything,” the hero said as they went to move past the villain. They tucked themselves against the villain, lips brushing the shell of their ear. Their feathers skated down the villain’s bare arm, and they shivered. “My mother approves.”

The villain’s face was hot. They shuddered out a breath. The hero released them, continuing their path down the alleyway, and the villain spun to watch them go.

The hero paused at the mouth of it.

“Oh,” they snapped their fingers like they had remembered something, but their grin said this had been planned. “Her name is Lilith, by the way.”

The villain’s brain short circuited.

Lilith. The mother of all monsters. Lilith, the wife of Lucifer. Lilith, someone who apparently approved of the villain.

‘I’m not a monster. My mother raised me right.’

Oh, this little shit.

The hero laughed, vanishing around the corner, blowing a kiss as they went. The villain could have sworn they had a halo, wings still splattered with blood, and in the arch of the sunlight they were every bit the fallen angel the media thought they were.

“Oh, you beautiful, monstrous, wretched thing,” the villain murmured, but it was fond. “Only you could make damnation look like divinity.”

[thebulletinhamilton-quotes]

92 HamBurr please!?

92 - You’re so clingy, I love it

92 - Oh honey, I would never be jealous of you.

A/N: @djajfresh how does both sound?

Alexander knocked on Aaron’s door. His boyfriend had not be texting him all day and despite what he said there is no way—

Aaron slowly opened the door, his eyes bloodshot and his nose red. His gaze was glassy and he was covered in blankets shivering in August. Alexander couldn’t help but shake his head. Of course Aaron doesn’t want him here. The last time Alex caught a cold, he had to go to the ICU because he kept pushing through the symptoms. Aaron visited him everyday despite finals week.

Alexander pushes his way in, while keeping an eye on his boyfriend who can only shrink back but glare in response. It’s thick with tension when Alexander breaks the silence:

“No wonder you’ve been so clingy, I absolutely love it. When was the last time you took a shower?” He asks lightly, knowing how delicate Aaron can be when it comes to personal matters.

Aaron mumbles under his breath. Alexander takes a step forward, advancing until Aaron is stuck between Alexander Hamilton and a wall. Looking at up at his boyfriend in concern, Aaron speaks up.

“Yesterday. My friend gave me a sponge bath. Don’t be upset.” Aaron says thickly, mucus and junk trapped in his lungs. Alexander has to bite his tongue from laughing at the mental picture of Aaron having to take a sponge bath with Angelica to assist.

It’s a pregnant pause when Alex realizes that Aaron must be worried about it. Alexander softly pecks the side of Aaron’s cheek with a grin.

“Oh honey, I would never be jealous of you. Especially with Angelica. I know you would never cheat on me, right?” Alex says softly, meeting Aaron’s glassy gaze. With dark brown eyes meeting each other, Aaron nods before he realize he’s swaying and—

Thud!

“Aaron!”

...

A little later, Aaron wakes up in his bed, the sheets changed, in new clothes, smelling of fresh soap and the familiar figure of Angelica Schuyler glowering over him with a thermometer in her hand.

Before he can speak, she butts in.

“102.7 F. It’s up from the last time I was here. If it gets up to 103, take him to the hospital Alex. People can easily die from fevers.” He hears Angelica sternly tell Alexander, who is nodding.

“Is there anything else I can do? You won’t let me give him his medicine mouth to mouth.” Alex faintly argues with her.

Burt’s vision is getting blurry and he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He can though hear the eye roll of Angelica saying:

“You were in the ICU for a week when you caught the flu. If you were a plant, you would be dead. Plus, your immune system is still getting use to weather changes. Don’t argue with me. Eliza or I can come over and give Aaron his medicine. Don’t you dare—“ Angelica’s voice cuts off as Aaron drifts off to sleep. The last thing he hears is Alexander, laughing.

How does he stay so smug and always on the move? Is he even human sometimes? Aaron’s thoughts run past him. Am I even enough for him? Is his last parting thought before he drifts off to a time when everything was perfect.

A/N: @djajfresh I do apologize for it being so short. I have to get up early tomorrow so I will lengthen it later (I’ll let you know). I do want to add more to this. Thank you for asking me!!

[mytinyatlas]

Hand Foot & Mouth Disease

What is it? Hand-foot-and-mouth disease is a mild, contagious viral infection common in young children. Symptoms include sores in the mouth and a rash on the hands and feet. There's no specific treatment for hand-foot-and-mouth disease.

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/hand-foot-and-mouth-disease/symptoms-causes/syc-20353035#:~:text=Hand%2Dfoot%2Dand%2Dmouth%20disease%20is%20a%20mild%2C,foot%2Dand%2Dmouth%20disease.

How do you get it? The virus can spread to others through an infected person’s saliva, drool, Fluid from blisters or scabs or poop. They are usually most contagious during the first week that they are sick. 

So my wonderful daycare decided not to disclose that there were a few cases the week prior until after Anderson had already shown symptoms. Super upset because I in turn also got it as an adult (which is generally rare).

The child:

Day 1: fever 102.7 (administered Motrin 2-3 times a day)

Day 2: very cranky, loss of appetite (administered Motrin 2-3 times a day)

Day 3: visible bumps around the mouth, bottom, and knees (administered Motrin once a day)

Day 4: appetite has returned, bumps still visible and multiplied to feet, hands, and interior of mouth (administered Motrin once a day)

Day 5-6: crankiness has subsided a bit

Day 7: interior of mouth seems clear, demeanor back to normal

Myself:

Day 1: fever 103.6 (my symptoms began 3 days after the child’s) took adult Tylenol

Day 2: loss of appetite (most likely cranky)

Day 3-5: immense sore throat (visible blisters inside mouth)

Day 6-7: blisters still present, some pain has subsided, fever of 102 on both days (however working could have exacerbated my condition) took adult Tylenol

Day 8: fever subsided, blisters still present and difficult to swallow

Treatment: We went to the doctors and there’s nothing they can prescribe since it’s a virus. Cepacol and other numbing medications have not worked/helped. Even my usual honey/orange hot water concoction is not doing it for me. Oddly the only relief I get is every time I brush my teeth and use mouthwash – weird.

Food: fruit was our enemy, anything acid was just awful on the throat. Soft foods (and surprisingly spicy foods went down well). So a lot of overcooked rice (porridge), mashed potatoes and soft serve ice cream was consumed during this time. Other things I made: tteokbokki, jello, yubuchobap, eggs.

It sucks because I’m over here sick taking care of another sick being – who’s taking care of me man?

[starryeyed-char]

Blankets

Prompt: Could you throw out some fever induced cuddly Shiro (Shallura) fluff please b t dubbs  I love your blog

I got this request today, and I still have another one to do from a while ago... oops. I didn’t plan on writing this today, it just kind of happened. I’ve been dealing with some writer’s block, and turns out stepping out of my comfort zone (klangst) and writing this (fluffy shallura) was what I needed to get back in the zone! I hope this is satisfactory anon... enjoy!

Also... me writing stuff that’s not lance-centric and/or klance is like,,, once in a blue moon so... I hope you like it, but don’t get too used to it...

Takashi Shirogane did not get sick.

In fact, he'd always prided himself on his seemingly invincible immune system.

So, when a week or so ago Shiro's throat began to feel scratchy and his nose stuffed up, he did his best to ignore it. He couldn't possibly be getting sick. They were in space. Besides, there was a universe to defend.

It wasn't until after a particularly grueling battle with the Galra that he realized just how bad it was getting.

He woke up the following day with a migraine that definitely hadn't been there before, and the issues with his sinuses seemed to have increased tenfold. Shiro wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, huddled under a layer of blankets, since his room was freezing for some reason.

But he was also the only one who hadn't sustained any serious injuries from the fight, with the exception of a few scrapes and bruises. Shiro pushed himself out of bed, and headed towards the infirmary.

Sure enough, the other four paladins were all receiving medical attention. 

Keith was still in a pod, after getting shot in the abdomen. Just a graze really, but it still needed to heal. 

Lance had apparently emerged from the pod overnight, and Coran was wrapping bandages around his arm, probably to make sure the sensitive areas were protected. Using more than one pod at a time took up a lot of the ship's energy, and the blue paladin insisted he could let it heal naturally.

Allura fussed endlessly over Pidge and Hunk, who were both slumped on the couch. The latter had his leg propped up on a pillow with ice, and Pidge held a similar frozen ice-pack to her head.

Shiro sighed, and cleared his throat before speaking. “What can I do to help?” Even with the precaution, his voice came out raspy, and all heads turned toward him.

Allura narrowed her eyes. “Shiro, do we need to look at you as well? You could have injuries beneath the skin, let Coran look at your bruises again.” She gestured for him to sit on the couch, but Shiro simply waved her off.

“I'm fine,” he assured the princess, though she continued to look skeptical. “Do you want me to monitor Keith's vitals?”

“The pod will alert us with an alarm if something is amiss,” she replied slowly. “But I thought you knew that from when Lance was in it last time. Shiro, are you sure you're feeling alright? You seem a bit pale.”

“Headache,” he answered shortly. “Nothing I can't handle. Zarkon is probably on the move. If you want me to help Coran here, you can return to the control deck.”

Allura pursed her lips. “I think we all need a decent amount of rest before we go looking for the Galra again.”

The conscious paladins, which seemed to be Lance and Hunk since Pidge had dozed off, followed the conversation with wide eyes, as if watching a tennis match. If Allura was suggesting rest, then they knew it must be necessary.

Shiro wanted to hit himself, preferably with the mechanical arm. “I forgot, the wormhole jump you made yesterday was longer than usual,” Shiro apologized. “You need to rest, too. All the more reason I should be helping Coran out here.”

Allura was full on glaring at Shiro now, and looked like she was trying very hard not to roll her eyes. “That's not what I meant,” Allura told him, and before he could react she was pressing her hand to his forehead. Only seconds after doing this she drew back in surprise.

“Are humans supposed to have such high body temperatures? I know it's definitely not normal, at least by Altean standards,” she asked, looking at Hunk.

Hunk's eyes widened. “Shiro, you have a fever?! Why didn't you tell us?”

“No, princess, it's not normal,” Lance spoke up. “We need to check his temperature, maybe get him some fever reducers. Do Alteans have thermometers for body temperature?”

“'We' are not going to do anything,” Allura said firmly. “You two need to rest as well. I'll help Shiro. Coran, get the thermometer. And... Lance, what was that you said? Fever inducers?”

Shiro unsuccessfully tried to suppress a laugh, and ended up having a coughing fit. Allura gazed on disapprovingly.

“Uh... fever reducers,” Hunk corrected. “You know, to bring down his temperature?”

“We have something like that for Alteans, but we just called them coolers,” Coran mused aloud, passing Allura the thermometer. “I'll go look for them once I've finished up bandaging Lance here.”

Allura nodded, before grabbing Shiro's arm and pulling him into the next room, where there was another couch. He sat down reluctantly, and allowed her to stick the thermometer inside his mouth. 

“102.7,” Allura read off, before glancing at Shiro uncertainly. “How bad is that?”

“Not good,” Shiro admitted. “But not particularly dangerous, either. Any antibiotics Coran has would be appreciated, though.”

Allura glanced over at him in confusion. “Anti...biotics?”

Shiro nodded. “Yeah, medicine. I could use some to get rid of the symptoms. Hopefully.”

“I don't know why you didn't just tell us you felt sick before,” she muttered, sticking her hand on her hip. “Keeping something like that from the rest of the team isn't smart. I'm surprised at you.”

“I hardly ever get sick,” Shiro argued weakly. “I... thought I could handle it.”

“You overworking yourself is only going to make it worse,” she pointed out. “Just because you're the black paladin doesn't mean you don't need rest.”

“I guess it's just... the fight yesterday took a toll on everyone,” he said softly. “Pidge nearly got a concussion, Lance's arm was broken, Hunk sprained his ankle, and Keith's still in a healing pod! I guess this didn't seem... that important? I have to be there to lead them. I need to be able to take care of them. They're still so young, Allura.”

She sat down beside him, silently, and lightly put a hand on his shoulder. “You should know by now that they can handle themselves,” she said with a small smile. “And you won't be able to look after them without taking care of yourself first.”

“You're right,” Shiro sighed, dragging his hands down his face to look at her. “I'm sorry.”

“Well, we're both guilty of overworking ourselves,” Allura laughed softly. “Is there anything else you need? Other than what Coran's bringing you?”

“Nothing,” Shiro said quickly. “Thank you, though.”

Allura raised an eyebrow. “You're shivering.”

Shiro had hoped he wasn't being obvious as to how cold he was, but it was apparently in vain. He caved. “A blanket,” he mumbled. “And a water pouch? If it's not too much to ask.”

Allura nodded, smiling, and returned with several blankets and the drink. “I should return to the medbay to check on the others,” she said, though she made no move to leave at first. She took a step towards the door, only to glance back at him. “You're sure you'll be okay?” Shiro nodded, and she started towards the infirmary.

Later, he wondered what had make him do it. Maybe his mind was just foggy with the fever, his brain not functioning properly. Whatever the reason, Shiro reached out and grabbed Allura's arm. “Would you stay?” he said the words in a rush, and her eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

Shiro was certain she'd smack him, and he braced himself as she turned around and stared at him with an unreadable expression.

Then, to Shiro's complete surprise, she crawled under the blankets too, sitting beside him on the couch. He'd thought she would've just taken another chair, if she decided to remain at all.

“Uh... what're you doing?”

“You're not the only one who's exhausted,” Allura reminded him. “I assume me sitting here with you isn't a problem?”

“Won't... won't you get sick, too?”

“We're different species, Shiro,” Allura said, repressing a smile. “I highly doubt your earthling illnesses will have any effect on me.”

“Then... no. No problem,” Shiro muttered, averting his gaze toward the ceiling. He was inwardly debating whether or not he should put his arm around the princess when Allura spoke again.

“Do you want me to check your temperature again?” she asked. “Hunk told me flushed cheeks could be a symptom of this so-called 'fever', but yours just grew much darker. Does that mean your sickness is growing worse?”

Shiro fought the urge to groan. “It's nothing,” he told her. “Just... stay here. If you want to.”

Allura looked at him curiously for a moment, leaning a head on his shoulder. “I want to,” she whispered.

Shiro shifted his arm around her, and the two of them dozed off like that, underneath a pile of blankets. He was feeling a lot better already.

They woke up to find medicine from Coran, accompanied by a note from the other paladins. Hunk instructed Shiro to only take two of the pills, and chase it with water. Lance lamented that he'd never be able to win the princess' heart if Shiro was his competition (punctuated with a winky face), and added that the two were lucky he didn't give them cat whiskers while they slept. Pidge wrote that she had photographic evidence, so neither of them could deny the occurrence of any bonding moments. Keith added a P.S. that he'd woken up, and that Shiro should take better care of himself. He also confirmed that he'd had to confiscate all Lance's sharpies.

“Next time I get sick, remind me to make them get me blankets,” Shiro grumbled. Allura snorted, and let her head fall back onto his shoulder, snuggling farther into the couch.

“Only if I get to share them.”

Shiro felt a grin come onto his face, pulling her closer. “Of course.”

The End