#toddlers getting strep throat

[quinnysnursery]

do you think you could write a fic or some oneshots about daddy!chris with a sick little? especially a little who gets strep throat/the flu a lot? thank you soooo much doll!! 🎀🍼

[🥤] a spoonful of sugar | chris sturniolo one-shot

paring : cg!chris sturniolo x little!sick!reader

summary : being sick is no fun, but chris is determined to make taking medicine easier.

warning/extra tid-bits : sick!reader, taking medicine, i think that's it

word count : 1,130

divider credit : @aqualogia

a/n : if you ever want a certain cg name to be used just include it in your request btw guys! i default to mama/dada/baba because that's what i'm most comfortable with when i'm in littlespace but i'm open to writing mostly anything! (sorry for any typos, i'm just a girl!)

You let out a long whine once you finished your coughing fit. “Daddy…” You sniffled, tears threatening to spill out your eyes. 

Looking up from the counter, Chris quickly turned down the heat of the stove before making his way over to where you were curled up on the couch. “Daddy’s here, what’s hurting?” He asked, his brows furrowing in worry as he crouched down in front of the couch where you were laying.

You being sick wasn’t anything new, but that didn’t make watching you in pain any easier for Chris to watch. Almost every month, like clockwork, you’d come down with a flu-type sickness, and like clockwork, Chris wasted no time being right by your side.

“M’ throat…” You whimpered, eyes glossing with tears. Your carer cooed, nodding as he brushed your hair away from your face. “I’m making you some soup now, baby.” He explained gently, “Do you feel good enough to come sit at the table or do you want Daddy to bring it to you?” He hummed, tilting his head as he asked the question. 

You thought for a moment before answering, “Daddy bring it…” You decided. 

He nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he stood. “I’ll be right back angel.” Chris promised, quickly returning to the kitchen.

He was by no means a chef, he’d burnt microwave mac and cheese plenty of times but…for you he read the directions on the back of the soup can five times over, going as far to look up how to make canned soup even better.

After pouring the soup into a pastel-colored, toddler-safe bowl. Chris grabbed a spoon and a few napkins before bringing it over to you on the couch.

You were now sat up, tired eyes practically latching onto Chris as soon as he was in view. “It’s very hot, be careful.” He warned, placing the soup on your lap along with the spoon.

You nodded. Chris sat next to you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder. 

Dipping the spoon down into the chicken soup and bringing it up to your mouth, you instantly let out a soft breath as the warmth of the broth soothed your aching throat.

“Is it yummy?” He asked, smiling. You nodded excitedly, “Mhm! ‘s yummy!” You hummed, quickly eating more. 

The two of you sat like that until the soup was all gone and you ended up laying back down, head resting on Chris’ lap. 

“Sleepy baby…” Chris cooed, playing with your hair. You hummed, hiding your face in your hand. 

“You wanna nap here? Or in daddy’s room?” He asked, prompting you to snuggle into Chris further. “Stay heeereee…” You whined, rubbing your eyes tiredly. Chuckling, your carer nodded.

“Alright, alright. We’ll stay here.”

You woke up a few hours later, immediately disgruntled by the lack of Chris. 

Sitting up, you rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes. “Daddy?” You croaked, eyes immediately getting teary as your body processed that your sore throat was back in full force. 

“D-Daddy?” You asked, eyes darting around the living room. 

“In the kitchen, princess/prince!” Chris called out, attempting to quicken his pace. You sluggishly rose to your feet, being sure to grab your beloved stuffed animal before shuffling into the kitchen.

“Daddy, m’ throat hurts…” You whimpered as you entered. Chris let out a sympathetic coo, opening his arms and engulfing you into one of his signature warm hugs. 

The soft fabric from his Fresh Love hoodie combined with his cologne was almost enough to make you forget about the pain. Until his grip loosened and it all came back, causing quiet tears to spill out your eyes.

“Oh baby…” Chris murmured, his eyes softening as he saw just how upset your symptoms were making you. “It’s probably about time for some more medicine.” He commented, grabbing the bottle full of red-ish liquid from the counter and taking a small cup from the dish-rack.

You wrinkled up your nose, “Tastes icky…” You complained, holding your stuffed friend close. “It says it tastes like cherry, you love cherry!” Chris tried, only to be given a major scowl from you. 

“I know it’s icky, baby.” He sympathized, “But it makes you feel so much better, right?” He asked. You thought for a moment before begrudgingly nodding. 

It did help…it just also tasted very icky. 

Chris thought as he filled up the tiny cup to the designated line. When Chris didn’t know exactly what to do while caregiving, he often thought back to his own childhood and what Mary-Lou would do that he appreciated. 

Sugar.

Looking as if a lightbulb went off above his head, Chris instantly rushed to the pantry, swinging open the door. “Daddy?” You questioned, two steps behind him.

“I know just the trick to help with that icky medicine.” He said, giddiness filling his voice. That caught your attention. “Really?!” You beamed, standing on your tippy toes to try and see what Chris was digging out the pantry.

Once he found what he needed, he sat the bag of sugar on the marble countertop. “We bakin’?!” You asked excitedly, only to frown when your caregiver shook his head no.

“Not today baby, but maybe when you’re feeling better.” The brunette comforted as he grabbed a spoon from a random drawer. 

“Okay, ready for medicine?” He asked, picking the tiny cup back up. You whined, shaking your head in refusal.

“Angel, can you pretty please trust daddy?” He asked. You frowned, you did trust your daddy…but that medicine was icky. 

“I pinky promise this is gonna help.” He said, motioning to the bag of sugar. 

Looking into Chris’ blue eyes, you nodded. “M’kay daddy…m’ trust you.” You mumbled, knowing he would never intentionally do anything to harm or upset you. 

“Thank you princess/prince.”

Slowly, Chris helped you take the medicine. The tart “cherry” flavor invading every taste bud. You wrinkled up your nose, instantly pulling away once the liquid in the cup was finished. 

A spew of praises escaped Chris’ mouth, which helped a bit. “Okay, here. This’ll help.” He said, scooping a small amount of sugar onto the metal spoon before bringing it to your lips.

“Daddy promises, okay?” Chris added. You opened your mouth, allowing the sugar to fall in. 

Faster than you could count, the sugar instantly combatted the bitter cherry flavoring. Chris was right, it did just the trick.

You instantly let out a happy squeal, wrapping your arms around your caregiver. “Daddy’s the bestest!” You beamed, causing Chris to laugh lovingly as he patted your back.

You’d spend the rest of the night beaming about how smart your daddy was, how he was a “genius” and the “bestest daddy in the whole wide universe of forever”. 

That one was Chris’ favorite.

TAGLIST : @natedoeswife @blahbel668 @nicksloverrr @katw4shereee @pkfferoo @mattssturnz @mattsturniologf444 @graceslittlecorner @zivall @hrtz4alex2211

[lokavisi]

This vent turned Loki Appreciation Post™️ got rather lengthy, so I'm gonna pop it under a line so it doesn't take up too much space on your feed. But I do appreciate it if you read it. I need some good vibes...

I don't really talk much about my personal life on this blog, but I've been having a Week™️. Well, maybe Two Weeks™️. Two weeks ago, my wife and I had the beginning stages of a cold and accidentally passed to 3/4 other people in our TTRPG group. We got over the cold, and last Monday night/Tuesday morning, we were in the ER because my wife was having such intense upper abdominal pain. She seems to experience acid reflux in an atypical way. The meds they gave her have been helping, so that seems to be what it was, but now she's getting a sore throat again. We went to the clinic today. She got a strep, flu, and COVID test, which all came back negative, so the person said she likely picked up a virus while at the ER. (Even though we were both masked the entire time, there is still always a possibility.) Now I can't tell if I'm getting sick, too, or if I'm just stressed out of my mind. I've been taking care of her for the majority of this past week and haven't really been able to take care of myself in the ways that I need to. On the few days she was feeling ok, I went to some overstimulating events that I don't feel like I fully recovered from, either. I've been holding back a full breakdown all day, but short periodic cries have helped relieve some tension.

And here's where I'll tie it in to Loki: last night, I decided to do some journeywork since I haven't in a good while. I thought it might also be some good self-care time to visit the little home space I've made with Loki and his family. The thing is, Atlas was the one to great me as soon as I entered trance. In chatting with him a little, it was obvious that Loki called on him to really drive home the "you don't have to carry/aren't carrying the whole world on your shoulders" message. After this realization, it took me a second to really lock onto Loki's energy so I could talk with them about it. When I finally did, they showed me all these key stepping stones of progress in my journeying practice, especially finding and traveling to different locations. So they asked, "Why do you want to come to this place you spend so much time in?" Referring to our little home space. I broke down, and when I heard myself speak, it was like I was hearing a child. I was saying I just "wanted to see daddy" (i.e. Loki) and I didn't like that every task I picked up felt like a whole world for me to carry. Then I started apologizing to nearly every major deity in the Norse pantheon for not doing any of the work we've spoken about doing together. Each time I named one, they appeared before us. I was bawling into Loki's chest as they held me, and I could feel the tears and snot dripping down my actual physical face, too. As I did, I shifted into a toddler. Loki wasn't just hugging me. He was holding me, my legs around his waist with his right arm under my butt to hold me up. He motioned to everyone around us, saying that they are all family and part of this home space. Like my inner circle. Then he referenced me going to other circles (i.e. learning about and working with deities or spirits from other pantheons and practices) as a way for me to learn. And that they will all still be here for me even when I venture out to "meet new people" and that some people I meet may even join us in our inner circle. Cue Apollo walking up to us, holding his arms out for me to go to him. Loki passed me over to him like a parent handing their kid off to a babysitter or family member. There were a few small things that happened after that, but I'm still so struck by that sense of family. I felt so much more relaxed crying into Dad's (Loki's) arms. I felt safe and loved, and I felt safe and supported even when I was handed off to Apollo.

I'm really holding on to the comfort of those moments right now as I still try to care for myself in this moment. I am slightly dreading the inevitable inner child work that this was also clearly alluding to, just because I know it will be a lot emotionally, but it clearly needs to be done, right? It feels like a lot to maintain my current practices and deity relationships AND explore new ones. That in and of itself feels like taking on the world, and that doesn't even include all of the mundane adulting shit I have to do every day. I've just been so overwhelmed and overstimulated this week. I need everything to just stop for a second. I need to not be needed for just a little while. I need to be held for just a little longer until every last ounce of tension gets released from my mind and body. I need to get 10-12 hours of sleep for the next few nights. Gods, give me strength and rest, please. 🙏

[millerflintstone]

I'm glad I stayed masked up when I was out with my neighbor friend. We stopped by her house first so she could give me some apples and oranges. While there, I let her husband know I was getting over a cold and didn't want to share it, hence my mask. He told me he had a bit of a sore throat so it was probably for the best.

Just found out tonight that he tested positive for strep throat. And apparently she is on Augmentin for a sinus infection, which was also news to me. Last I heard she was over the cold she had around when I first got sick.

She did have a birthday party for her oldest son last Sunday. He turned 55. In attendance were his 3 younger brothers, their wives, the youngest brother's toddler who is in daycare and is a walking Petri dish. Any of those folks could have had it.

I love my friend. I'm still masking up around her. Apparently she has her toddler grandson on weekends.

[andyridgeley]

It’s insane to me how people are still such big babies when it comes to wearing masks. Yesterday I was at an urgent care (yay for strep throat 😭) and this woman in the lobby was literally hacking up a lung. The front desk lady asked her to put on a mask and she huffed like a toddler and said she’d wait in her car and stomped away. Like why are they so desperate to spread and get diseases???

i....... hate.... people ...... sometimes

[deputy-ajay-ghale]

It’s insane to me how people are still such big babies when it comes to wearing masks. Yesterday I was at an urgent care (yay for strep throat 😭) and this woman in the lobby was literally hacking up a lung. The front desk lady asked her to put on a mask and she huffed like a toddler and said she’d wait in her car and stomped away. Like why are they so desperate to spread and get diseases???

You know the protocol by now, if you’re not going to wear it at the grocery store at least have the decency to do it in a clinical setting. My mom still gives jabs at my brother and I for getting vaccinated, even though I needed to for my MEDICALLY ADJACENT JOB.

Also people have zero shame because I’d be mortified to get caught like that. People watching you make a scene? Embarrassing.

[parricider]

UNPROMPTED. > @timelocker

A ROCK IS THROWN AT HIM, with the little strength she has. rascal yells, rascal SCREAMS as her feet dig into the sand more, pulling at her hair and shaking her head. STRANDED. STRANDED. THEY WERE STRANDED. getting carried. light. suppression squad. light. TAKING HIM DOWN WITH HER.

❝  YOUR FAULT !!  ❞  she screams once more, face red, full of tears. she punches his chest, head still dizzy from the trip. a punch across the jaw to bring him down, straddle him. hold him by the neck of his jacket as she screams in his face. 

❝  THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT !!!  ❞

FOREIGN SALINE DROPLETS TRICKLE DOWN INTO THE MAW OF THE ‘ FIASCO-TRIGGER ‘ LIKE A FUCKING SPLUTTERING TODDLER STRAPPED TO A HIGH-CHAIR…. . a rancid percolation of THE WHINY LAMENTS OF THE RABBLE-ROUSER ( a deluging monsoon of ｗｏｅ ｉｓ ｍｅ ! ) inundating & coating his throat like an IRRITATING STREP. the tear-jerking-elixir force fed to him from this tender dunderhead did not make the king drop to his knees in rapport. NO. but it did rouse ADRENALIZING, TABLE-TURNING BITE– the vertigo from their unanticipated DIMENSIONAL-SHIFTING CARPOOL inebriating the spry marathoner’s already SHORT-FUSED PATIENCE. ESPECIALLY FOR HER. ESPECIALLY FOR HER. IT’S ALWAYS FOR HER.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓 !!!

( HIS FAULT ? HIS FAULT !? WAS IT HIS FAULT FOR INJECTING THESE DELUSIONAL NARCOTICS– THE PLACEBIC & FATUOUS HOPE INTO THESE LUNKHEADS, WHEN ALL HE WANTED TO DO WAS GIVE THEM A RUSH OF INSTANTANEOUS MORPHINE– THROW THEM ONE LAST PARTY TO NUMB THE PAIN ? DIDN’T YOU WANT OUT ? DON’T YOU WANT OUT ? WELL, I DO ! 

I DIDN’T PURCHASE NO EXPRESS TICKET T’YER DELUSIONAL ‘ SAVIOR-COMPLEX ‘ ! ERASE MY NAME OFF’A YER STUPID FUCKIN’ REHABILITATION DRAFT LIST BEFORE I PAINT BOTH THESE WORLDS WITH YER OWN VISCERA FOR FUCKIN’ FORGERY  ! )

❝  MY FAULT, HUH !? ❞ scourge screamed. scourge challenged. right. back. in. her. face. BARK UNWAVERING; unlike her– gurgling on her own self-induced woe. WHY CAN’T YA JUST GO CHOKE ON YER OWN TEARS AN’ LEAVE ME TH’FUCK ALONE SO THAT I COULD THINK FOR ONCE–

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 ? 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐍’ 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 ?

A WOBBLY COUNTER-SWING, still inebriated from the dimensional-shift, skims the edge of the tear-stained mug of this insufferable INSTITUTION-EUTHANIZER, which unfurls a frustrated snarl from the hedgehog; a mucous concoction of VISCOUS SNOT & BLOOD blows out of the hedgehog’s busted nose, desecrating HIS MAJESTY’S SACROSANCT CROWN; COATING HIM IN THE SAME PAINT JOB HE’D SLATHER THOSE DELUSIONAL FUCKING SCOUNGERS WITH…. . it was a misfired attempt to cleave her jaw & cease her jabbering that only EXASPERATED & FUCKING EXASPERATED THIS UNBEARBLE FUCKING HEADACHE. the irritating itching of the coarse sand sticking into his mussed-up fur & rubbing into his raw skin only kicked him further over the threshold of I DON’T BELONG HERE– NOT BENEATH HER. he didn’t belong here; no matter the circumstance.

ONCE HIS STRENGTH RECUPERATED, that was when he snatched the neck of her own jacket, lifting the cat up & prying her filthy paws off of sacrosanct leather, before whirling her around like a ragdoll & slamming her down into the sand BENEATH HIM WHERE. SHE. FUCKING. BELONGED.

HE PUNCHES HER ONCE. SQUARE IN HER JAW.

❝  TELL ME, y’fuckin’ delusional ‘ zealot savior ‘. ‘S. IT. MY. FAULT THAT WE’RE BOTH  warp-ring-wrecked an’ screwed ? ❞

HE PUNCHES HER TWICE. SQUARE IN HER FRONT TEETH.

❝  ‘S IT MY FAULT we keep circlin’ ‘round th’drain that’ll suck all of us in an’ KILL US ALL, ‘cause you’ve gotta insert yer SAVIOR PROPHECY FETISH INTO EVERYTHING instead’a respectin’ each other’s turfs an’ lettin’ each other ACTUALLY RELAX AN’ ACCEPT WHERE WE BELONG ?  ❞

HE PUNCHES HER MUG IN AGAIN. & AGAIN. WITH BOTH HANDS. UNTIL BOTH WHITE GLOVES WERE DYED RED. BOTH ARMS SLAMMING AGAINST HER FACE AS HARD AS HE FUCKING COULD.

❝  𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐓 !?  ❞

& AGAIN.

& AGAIN.

& AGAIN.

. . . until scourge breaks down into a SINGLE CHOKED SOB.

❝  𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊   ❞

[sessakag]

Where's the mod?! 😤

Where's the toddler time out mod?! I have had it with this boy 😂 somebody spilled the trash can and left puddles on the floor, and I was busy and didn't see the culprit but I KNOW it was Indra! This is what little Mr. Malicious was doing when I found him!

He also pissed Naruto off, this mofo went on a werewolf rampage and was 3 hours late for work because he can't freaking think straight and don't know how to door, or phone, or talk, or anything! I literally get this: "?????"" when I click on anything, lmao. This is just like his early Kurama rages in the show. Just senseless fury.

😅that red light is Naruto erupting with rage.

He's even influencing Boruto now!!

Haruto got strep throat so Naruto took both boys with him to the DR appointment, everything was going well, he got his weight and blood pressure checked, took an x-ray, had the doctor tell them what was up and prescribe meds.

Then Boruto did this...🤦🏾‍♀️

Never, not once, not even as a toddler has he EVER done this! Out of nowhere, he pulled a Indra. Naruto was not playing, instant grounded, say goodbye to that computer 😒.

AND clean that mess up, he don't care if you look like a fool mopping concrete 😂 boy done lost his mind, that's alright though, we gone help him find it.

Only children can be put in time out, but we gone fix that right now! Somebody else in the modding community had to have birthed an Indra energy baby, there's gotta be a time out mod somewhere 😂 I'm going hunting for one because this gotta stop. He still got 12 days as a toddler, this family not gonna make it at this rate 😂😂😂😂😂

[lost-onpurpose]

My cousin surprised our grandma with a few days ago.

That night she tested positive for strep.

She knew she wasn't feeling good when she left her house.

She visited anyway.

She hasn't been to our grandma's house in forever.

She knew she was getting sick... And visited anyway... At a property with my grandma (elderly), my mom (undergoing cancer treatment and recovering from lung surgery), my niece (toddler), and my sister-in-law (pregnant - high risk)...

Today, my throat hurts... And I'm getting the chest rash I always get with strep...

I hope neither side of her pillow is cool until next year...

I mean, I guess it could be worse. It could be covid again. But still!

[siristaci]

I was gonna put this in the tags, but it needs to be said out loud-

I've been discouraged from getting the vaccine for myself and my two year old daughter for the last year and a half. From multiple medical professionals.

At my daughter's last checkup (in July) I asked TWICE when her next covid vaccine was due. The first time, I was told that "strep throat is a bigger concern than covid or RSV right now. Just make sure you guys get the flu shot when that becomes available." The second time, I was told "oh, we'd have to check the latest recommendations. Anyway, see you next time, bye!"

Also, I have very limited transportation. Someone has to take a day off work so we can get to appointments. By the time anyone with a car gets home, it's dinner, bath, bed, so even going to a pharmacy to get the vaccine is out of the question. Weekends are too busy with all the things we couldn't do during the week. And we've been sick too much lately, so nobody has any more time off left (and you're not supposed to get a vaccine when you're sick). Who is going to take care of the toddler while I'm going through really bad side effects that last longer than the weekend?

For some people, getting a vaccine really isn't that simple.

it's still jarring to see people not get like, genuinely scared for someones wellbeing when they say they have covid. one of my classmates has covid and i am so worried about them and everyone else is just like get better soon and i get that most people don't get it but GOD.

[steampoweredace]

I think I caught something

I’m guessing strep throat right now because fuck it, my throat feels and looks like it and also I just get strep throat stupidly often

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Sick (Natasha Romanoff X Child!Daughter!Reader)

Characters: Natasha Romanoff X Child!Daughter!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Sickness, vomiting

Request: A oneshot please where Nat's daughter gets really sick with the flu AND strep throat at the same time is just really miserable, So Nat just takes care of her and is all soft.

“Mommy!” Natasha woke suddenly at the cry for her, coming clearly from her daughter down the hall. She sat up in bed, fully awake as she heard you crying. Natasha sighed, presuming it to be a nightmare, getting out of bed and going down to your room, opening the door and turning on the light. She expected it to be a simple cuddle like so many times before, before tucking you back in bed, however that changed when she saw the vomit in your lap. 

“Okay, come here honey.” Natasha assured you, pulling you out of bed, and despite the sick, still cuddled you as she carried you to the bathroom, and started to run you a bath as you continued to cry. Natasha sat you on the toilet seat, stripping you of your pyjamas, checking the temperature of the bath before placing you in. “Think you can wash yourself while I do deal with your bedding?” She asked you calmly, even though you were still upset. 

“I’m sorry mommy.” You told her.

“It’s fine honey, I’ll be back in five minutes.” She assured, getting you the scrub you needed to clean yourself, before she left the bathroom to gather your bedding and put it in the wash. Natasha’s heart was pounding, admittedly. It was silly really, she was an assassin yet seeing her little daughter covered in sick scared her, but then again she felt this way the first time you got a cold, and when you fell and hurt yourself. However, this was the worst she’d seen you yet. 

Natasha had adopted you when you were a toddler, which was only a few years ago, you now being 7, and while mother hood wasn’t everything how she imagined it, she wouldn’t ever change it. As soon as your bedding was in the washer, she went back to the bathroom, seeing you washing yourself and sniffling, though you’d calmed down. Natasha took over cleaning you, and while at it she washed your hair. “How do you feel?” She asked you as she felt your head, immediately feeling you burning up. 

“My tummy hurts and so does my throat.” You told her, and she nodded. 

“Well when we’re done, I’ll get you some ice cream and a hot water bottle, how does that sound?” She asked, and you nodded.

Natasha dried you off, got you new pyjamas, got you a hot water bottle and a bowl of ice cream, before putting on some of your favourite movies and texting Bruce asking him to come over tomorrow since you were sick. Natasha had an idea of what it was- either the flu or strep throat.

“It’s both?” Natasha asked, surprised as Bruce finished his examination of you. You were a little bit worse from the night before. You refused to eat any breakfast, and it was even a struggle to get you to drink anything since it hurt to swallow and you were scared it would make you sick again, which had been a few more times. You also now had a headache, though all Natasha could do was give you some medicine, massage your tummy and keep you bundled up in cuddles. She’d called into work to tell Fury that you weren’t well, and he didn’t hesitate to give her as much time off as she needed. 

“I’m afraid so. They both have some symptoms in common, but she’s showing unique symtoms of both. Go big or go home, huh Y/N?” Bruce asked you, getting a tired smile from you as you laid on the couch. “I’m afraid the only things you can do is make sure she takes antibiotics, painkillers, maybe some cough medicine, lots of liquids, and hot water bottles and lots of sleep.” Bruce told her. 

“No school?” You asked, making Bruce chuckle. 

Natasha had set up a sort of time table for you throughout the day. Luckily you were already pretty tired all the time, so she’d let you nap for 2-4 hours, then she’d wake you up, get you to have a snack, something to drink, take your meds and then watch whatever shows you wanted to until you fell back asleep, and then she’d tuck you back into your little corner of the couch, surrounded by pillows and cuddly toys. She also had a sick bucket ready for you beside where you laid so if you felt sick you just had to lean over, though Nat got good at noticing when you weren’t feeling fell and would hold it in front of you. Luckily, as the day wore on, you eventually stopped being sick as often, and it became an odd thing. Natasha spent most of the day just playing with your hair as you slept or watched TV. She didn’t get to really relax with you often because of her work, so this was rather nice. You were always a little clingy with her, so when you woke up you’d just hug her. It was nice. She made a mental note that when she got the chance she should book some time off to do some activities with you so you don’t pretend to be sick to get her attention. 

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @klanceiscannon14​ @waywardemo​ @marvelhoeingismyhobby​ @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @abbybills22-blog​ @waywardemo @mutantjediavenger​ @theoraekensnotsosecretlover​ @alicedanganh  @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lena-stan-xavier​ @lady-of-lies​ @sebstanismylife​ @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​  

[offeringsss]

Haha not me with a dad who smoked and tubes in my ears and so many toddler ear infections and then strep throat every other month until middle school. Bubblegum amoxicillin was my jam and we tried to get my dad to smoke a pipe bc it smelled better 😂

Changes to the microbiome, the community of microorganisms inside the body, were correlated with future neurodevelopmental disorder diagnoses, as well as environmental factors and even common treatments for young childhood ear infections. The researchers conducted the study using data collected over 20 years from 16,440 Swedish children participating in the All Babies in Southeast Sweden (ABIS) cohort. Of these children, 1,197, or 7.28%, developed a neurodevelopmental disorder.

Continue Reading.

[roberttchase]

Manner minded or double trouble? Both SO matty? Maybe Christie looking after him?

double trouble: [character] is sick and injured.

I will be writing the manner minded one separately :) I hope you enjoy this (somewhat more detailed than I'd originally planned) ficlet.

Send prompts to my inbox.

+ + +

If you were to ask Matt Casey if he thought he was lucky, for the most part he would answer with 'no'. Yes, he's lucky enough to have Sylvie Brett as a girlfriend, lucky to have gone to the fire academy, lucky to have been promoted to a lieutenant and then captain. But he also had an emotionally abusive father as a teenager, a murderer for a mother, his girlfriend of eight years was killed, his wife left him. For every good thing, it feels like there are three bad things in his life.

So he can't even really say it's a surprise when, while on scene helping squad rescue two victims in a car that's balancing precariously close to the frozen Chicago River, Matt loses his balance, slips from the hood of the car, and falls almost twelve feet onto the ice that then suddenly cracks underneath him, submerging him in below forty degree water. Nothing in his life is ever easy. Intense pain radiates from his chest, his body feels like it's on fire, and then nothing.

From there, the scene is absolute chaos. Sylvie and Violet are both off shift, spending the entire week in Joliet helping teach at a conference. The two paramedics that are on scene are instantly calling for backup, while both Severide and Tony frantically suit up in scuba gear for precaution. Boden's yelling orders, but the three other members of truck are all frozen, staring at the large hole in the ice, from which their Captain is currently very much not getting out of.

+ + +

"Christie, you really don't have to do this, Severi-"

"I know what Severide said, but I'd feel more comfortable if you stayed with me." Christie Casey frowns, looking at her younger brother. He's at least four shades paler than he should be, cheeks flushed and eyes dull. Stubble consumes the lower half of his face, and the firefighter looks exhausted. She can't say that she blames him, not with the hell that he's gone through the past thirty six hours.

She'd gotten the call from Stella Kidd yesterday, a kind but shaky voice telling her that Casey, Matt, had fallen into an icy river, and was at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center being treated for two broken ribs and mild hypothermia. Arriving half an hour later, she'd been taken into Matt's room, where they had him on enough pain medication he was basically incoherent. One of the doctors had explained to her that the next few hours were important for any person who'd almost drowned- inhalation of the river water had occurred, and aspiration pneumonia was a large possibility. For a naive moment, Christie was certain that Matt would be fine.

Matt's never that lucky.

It's how she finds herself now, half glaring at her brother, who's been given instructions to stay with someone for the next forty eight hours, while his body wars with itself. The red haired doctor had explained that unless the mans fever reaches over 102, or his breathing deteriorates, he's allowed to stay out of the hospital. Severide's offered to let him stay at the loft, to take next shift off and watch over his best friend, but she tells her brothers best friend no. She needs to be able to watch over her little brother, if his paramedic girlfriend can't.

She's already talked to Sylvie, had called her only an hour after getting the call herself. They'd come to the conclusion that as long as someone was there to watch Matt, she needed to finish up the week for the CFD and CEMS.

"You ready to leave? I'm bringing you back to my place. Violet's got the guest room all ready for you."

Matt blinks and then nods, shoulders curved in slightly, one arm wrapped around his side. He looks a little woozy, though that could be from the pain pills being pumped through his body. That, or the fever he's sporting. April wheels him to the front of the hospital while Christie grabs her car and pulls it up to the curb.

Half an hour later, Matt's being helped into the guest room, where, sure enough, the bed has fresh sheets and a few extra pillows have been added for the man who isn't supposed to lay flat on his back. She gets him under the covers, thankful he's cooperating, and by the time she's back with the meds in a little plastic cup, as well as a glass of water, Matt's asleep.

"Matt, hey, you have to wake up and take your medicine, then you can go back to sleep, okay?" She shakes him as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt his ribs any more than they already are. She must knock something loose though, because not a second later he starts coughing, low and harsh, and his eyes flutter open. Gasping for air, they wait for his chest to stop spasming. His arm is cradling his side and she feels terrible, wishing she could help.

"I just need you to take this medicine, then you can sleep again," she promises, holding the cup out for him. When he nods, the woman lets the small pills tumble onto his open palm, and soon he's swallowing them tiredly.

"C-Can you stay?" The words are quiet and hang in the air as she turns to leave. Pausing, Christie turns back and is struck by just how young Matt looks, laying there with fever flushed cheeks and sallow skin.

Moving slowly, the woman gets into the other side of the bed, carefully shifting to get comfortable.

"Just like old times huh?"

She knows he's referring to their childhood. Christie can't help but smirk a little at the memories.

"Are you talking about when you would come crying to me because you were afraid of the dark?" Her tone is teasing, and instinctively she lets her fingers find his hair, running them through it just like she did when they were young teens and their father had been yelling at them.

A laugh bubbles out of Matt's throat, but it quickly changes to coughing, and it takes a moment for Matt to calm down, sipping water before replying.

"I was actually talking about when I was eight and caught whatever that punk across the street had after he coughed on me. I remember I was out of school for a week, and you stayed with me as much as you could."

She remembers it well.

+ + +

Matt never gets sick, not when he was a baby, and not now. She's always been the one to come down with colds or strep throat, and Matt always manages to avoid germs. He had been sick once when he was a toddler, once, but other than that, she can't remember him ever even getting a runny nose. And then Michael Jeffries goes and coughs all over him on the bus when she's in fifth grade and he's in third, and Matt's record of not getting sick goes down the drain.

It had been on a Monday. That following Thursday afternoon, Christie's waiting for Matt to get on the bus when their bus driver tells her that her brother has apparently gone home early. The whole ride home, the eleven year old is upset, not for her brother, but at the fact she wasn't taken out early either. Why did Matt get to go home and play when she didn't? By the time she's walking into their small home, the blonde is stomping her feet and slamming the door behind her, ready to ask why her stupid brother gets such special treatment.

Instantly though, she realizes something is wrong. Mommy isn't downstairs like she normally is, but instead of being worried, the girl let sher anger build. Running up the stairs, her ponytail swaying behind her, Christie's ready to yell and throw a tantrum, but she freezes when she sees her mom sitting on Matt's small twin bed. She's holding their big blue bowl that she always gets out when Christie's stomach is sick, and Matt is throwing up, coughing and spluttering after, while she rubs his back. Cautiously, Christie walks into the doorway.

"Mommy...what wrong with Matt?"

Nancy and Matt look up, the older woman rubbing her sons back.

"Matt's just not feeling well honey, he'll be alright."

Christie frowns and looks at her brother, whose cheeks are a startling bright pink, his skin pale.

"He looks really sick..." Suddenly she's not mad at all anymore, instead she's worried, no, scared. Matt doesn't get sick. That's his superpower, just like hers is liking vegetables.

Before any more words are spoken, Matt coughs and lets out a strangled little whine. "M-Mommy..."

Christie turns her face away as Matt gets sick this time, not wanting to watch anyone throw up. Instead, she goes and busies herself with finding paper and her crayons. Sitting down on her bedroom floor, the eleven year old goes to town with making her brother a get well soon card, the only thing she knows she can do in this moment.

That night, while she and mommy eat downstairs, Christie can hear Matt crying with Daddy. The second she finishes her food and washes her plate off, the blonde runs upstairs, wanting to make sure the younger boy is okay. She stops in front of his room, but no one's there, the twin sized bed with dark green sheets is empty, even his beloved stuffed bear is gone. Walking further down the hall, she sees the two she's been looking for in her parents king sized bed.

Matt's laying against Daddy, Bear clutched in his hand, his ear against the boys lip. Daddy smiles at her and puts a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet. Nodding, Christie tiptoes in and peers at them both, before climbing in putting a delicate hand on Matt's shoulder, hoping he'll be ok.

+ + +

Brought back to the present, Christie feels Matt's forehead and sighs. "just try and sleep okay? I'll be here if you need me, okay? I won't let anything bad happen to you Matt."

It's as if it's all he's been waiting to hear. It takes him all of two minutes to fall back asleep, head resting against his sisters shoulder. She supposes that this can be the start of all the years she'd missed taking care of him after she'd left for college. He deserves it.

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: Julie and the Phantoms are on tour and Juke are dating, one stop on tour Luke gets sick  (woke up with fever, swollen glands, sore throat etc) and the doctor diagnoses him with strep and an ear infection and Julie takes care his stubborn butt back to the hotel because he doesn't like to let down the fans since they have to cancel few shows.

Anonymous requested: alive guys, out of school in the real world, now all living in an apartment together. The 5 Times Luke Was Sick, and The 5 Times Julie Cured Him and maybe add in the 1 time Luke returns the favour of taking care of Julie.

Anonymous requested: Luke and Julie are married and have a daughter (Rose, 3). Rose and Luke end up waking up sick with the flu and Julie takes care of them, and she gets worn down from doing everything and caring for them. And even with him being sick in bed he lays with Rose when Julie’s beat and cuddles her when she feels sick even though he feels the same. Cute family fluff basically.

We Will Fight To Shine Together

The entire week had been hectic. Julie – along with her boys, Luke, Alex, and Reggie – had finally got the keys to their new apartment and had spent the whole of the previous two days hauling their belongings there from their respective homes. Ray Molina, protective as always, had been breathing down their necks in a frantic and worried attempt to help them out, the presence of Willie and Flynn had resulted in less unpacking and more Cardboard Box Wars, and most of their things were strewn about in unlikely places after the chaos of unpacking; just that morning Julie had found Alex’s drumsticks in the fridge.

But they were finally there, they were finally home, and there was nothing to worry about. Everything in the apartment seemed to be in order, they weren’t set to go on tour for another six months so the stress of that was still a way off, and the band’s new-found sense of freedom and independence hung over them like a rainbow. There was nothing that could have gone wrong. Nothing except–

“Dude, you look sick! And not in the good way.”

Julie had been sat atop the kitchen counter, watching Alex prepare their breakfast, but she looked towards the door when she heard Reggie’s exclamation. Stood in the doorway, bundled in about four hoodies, his eyes bloodshot and his nose running, was Luke. Reggie was right – he looked as if he were about to keel over and die. His puppy dog eyes were wide and watery and he looked utterly dreadful.

“Luke,” Julie said, hopping off the counter and heading over to him. “Are you feeling alright?”

He shook his head and sniffled pathetically. “I’m sick,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, you look it,” Julie said. She took his hand and gently led him towards a kitchen chair. He collapsed into it with a relieved sigh as if he couldn’t have bared standing any longer.

To Julie’s surprise (and slight annoyance) Alex and Reggie were laughing.

“You must have the weakest immune system known to man,” Alex joked as he put the group’s breakfast onto plates.

“On the bright side, Willie owes me ten dollars,” Reggie said with a beam. “I bet him you wouldn’t last two weeks before getting sick.”

Julie put her hands on her hips and glared at the two boys who immediately ceased their laughter. She knew she could be quite terrifying when she wanted to and she didn’t like abusing that power too much, but this was a situation she felt called for it.

“You two are seriously lacking compassion,” she scolded, pointing to and from Alex and Reggie. “Your friend is ill and all you can do is laugh at him. It’s mean – he has it difficult enough right now.”

Luke, pouting pathetically, nodded in agreement.

Alex and Reggie, both looking suitably chastised, muttered, “Sorry Julie.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t apologise to me.”

“Sorry Luke.”

“That’s better,” she said. Julie took herself out of Mother Mode and returned to Supportive Girlfriend. She gently ran her fingers through Luke’s hair – he relaxed a little as her touch. “I’m going to take you back to bed, you’re going to get some rest while I look up your symptoms, and then I’m going to take care of you.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “It’s probably just a cold. You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t, but I’m going to. Come on.”

Julie sent one more cutting glare to Reggie and Alex before helping Luke stand and leading him back through their little apartment to their shared bedroom. She eased him back into the bed, helped him make a half-nest-half-fort with the pillows and duvet, then grabbed her laptop and set up YouTube for him. Then, she pulled up a tab on her phone and sat beside him on the bed.

“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?” she asked.

Luke shook his head.

“Are you feeling dizzy at all?”

“A little bit,” he croaked.

She smiled knowingly. “Sore throat too?”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

Julie asked him more questions, then determined that because of the stress of moving his immune system had utterly crashed and some nasty bug had seized the opportunity. According to the internet, he needed plenty of bed rest, he should have been kept warm, he needed a lot of water, and most of all he simply needed to not do anything for a while.

“But we’re supposed to go to the studio tomorrow to record a bunch of songs,” Luke protested when Julie told him. He sat up abruptly, but eased himself back down, a hand rested against his forehead, wincing.

“You’re not going anywhere like that,” Julie told him. “I’ll call the studio and let them know we’ll have to record your parts a different time. Don’t say anything,” she commanded as he opened his mouth to argue again. “I’m not changing my mind.”

He grumbled something she couldn’t quite hear but assumed was something childishly rude – it had certainly sounded as if he’d been mocking her voice. She ignored him and instead headed back out to the kitchen. Julie grabbed painkillers and a large glass of water and took them back to Luke who had started a long YouTube playlist of Bondi Rescue videos.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be sitting in front of a screen if you’re dizzy,” Julie contemplated, handing him the tablets and the drink. Luke looked up at her with a mixture of sadness and fury in his eyes.

“I’ve already lost my health, I can’t lose Bondi Rescue too,” he said.

She breathed a laugh and sat back down beside him. He immediately melted into her side, his head rested against her abdomen. She stroked her fingers through his hair and felt him sigh at the touch.

He was asleep within minutes.

*

Julie and the Phantoms were on tour. It was a moment they had all been anticipating ever since they’d inducted Julie into the band. The four of them had saved up enough money to buy their own tour bus emblazoned with their faces and the band’s logo and were spending nine months driving across the United States and Canada to perform their show to sold-out crowds. Julie could hardly believe it was happening.

Right that moment, part of her wished it weren’t happening.

Julie had been led to understand that before she joined the band and became the responsible one, Alex was the ‘parental figure’ who had kept Luke and Reggie (both far more boisterous by nature) in check. If anyone had told her that on the second leg of their tour, she would not have believed it for a moment. Alex was sat in the passenger seat beside her, but was leaning over the back of it to swat at Reggie who was kicking the back of his seat. Both were calling each other childish names and their hands were flapping about like they were having a catfight. Julie had given up trying to stop them about two hundred miles ago.

Looking after them sometimes felt like having a pair of toddlers. Though more often it was like having three toddlers because Luke would find a way to join in on the shenanigans. But right then, in the backseat beside Reggie, he was oddly quiet.

“Luke,” Julie called over Alex and Reggie’s squabbling, readjusting the mirror so she could see Luke behind her. “You okay?”

Luke nodded then tried to clear his throat. “Yeah,” he said, voice gravelly. “Sore throat, that’s all.”

Julie frowned. “Are you sure? You don’t sound good. Will you be able to sing for tomorrow’s show?”

His eyes widened frantically at the mention of the performance. “Of course! I’ll be fine, it’s just a sore throat.”

It was, unfortunately, very clearly not just a sore throat.

Julie pulled the tour bus into the parking lot of their hotel and the gang all headed to their rooms. Julie and Luke were sharing, partially to save money and partially because they wanted to. Before they went to sleep, Julie checked again with Luke to see if he was alright and again he told her in that rough voice that he was fine.

However, when they woke up Luke seemed distinctly worse for wear. He was radiating heat like the sun but shivering as if he were in the arctic, he was complaining of pain in his right ear, and when Julie looked down his throat she saw that his tonsils were swollen and covered in white spots.

“You’re not going on stage like this,” she said, shaking her head. “No way. I’m calling a doctor.”

“I don’t need a doctor,” Luke insisted, attempting to hoist himself into a sitting position but giving up quickly. “It’s just a sore throat.”

“You can try telling me that again when you can swallow more than a drop of water,” Julie said before picking up her phone and calling the nearest doctor.

Luckily, the doctor was able to come out to the hotel so Luke didn’t have to even get out of bed. The doctor took one look at his symptoms, then turned to Julie.

“Looks like strep throat,” they said, snapping their latex gloves off. “The pain in the ear is because of an ear infection that came after the bacteria travelled from the throat to the middle ear. I’m going to prescribe him a course of antibiotics, he’ll need to take them all otherwise the infection will come back stronger. I recommend he doesn’t perform for at least another month to give the infection ample time to heal.”

“A month?” Luke tried to yell, but it came out as an outraged breathy whisper.

“Yes,” the doctor said, looking down at him over their glasses. “Your infection is particularly severe, Mr Patterson, and if you want to finish your tour then I suggest you take my advice.”

“We can’t cancel shows,” Luke protested weakly. “Think of how excited everyone’s been…”

Julie smiled to the doctor and saw them out of the room. “Thank you very much,” she said. “I’ll make sure he gets those antibiotics and plenty of rest.”

Once the doctor was gone, Julie called Flynn, the official manager for Julie and the Phantoms and Julie’s lifelong best friend. “Cancel every show for the next month,” she instructed. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Are you alright, Jules?” Flynn said, immediately sounding concerned. “I can come over and take care of you, whatever you need, I’ll book a flight right now–”

“I’m fine, Flynn,” Julie assured her. “It’s Luke. He’s got strep.”

“Oh no.” Flynn’s worry morphed into something akin to disappointment. “He’s literally the worst one of you guys to get ill right now.”

“Tell me about it. He’s furious that we’ve even suggested cancelling the shows.”

“He gets it’s for his own good, right?” Flynn asked.

Julie shook her head even though Flynn couldn’t see her. “He knows that but he doesn’t want to let everyone down. He’s been more excited for the tour than the fans have – he doesn’t want any of it to go wrong and this is about as wrong as it could go.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it once the ‘get well soon’ messages start arriving,” Flynn said.

“I think that’ll just make it worse,” Julie countered. “Anyway, it’s fine. There’s nothing we can do. Just make sure everyone knows the next shows are cancelled.”

“You got it, boss. Good luck with Luke.”

“I’ll need it.”

Julie hung up on Flynn and headed back towards Luke. He was still sat up in the bed, looking very sorry for himself as he pouted with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, crouching down next to his side of the bed. “I’m going to make you some hot honey and lemon water – my mom always made it for me when I got a sore throat. It’ll help, I promise. Is there anything else you want?”

“I want to do the shows,” he said petulantly.

Julie shook her head firmly. “You heard the doctor – none of us are going on any stage for another month. Flynn’s cancelling the shows as we speak.”

Luke looked aghast. “No!”

“Yes. You’re sick, Luke. And think about it; if this were me or Alex or Reggie in your position, what would you say to do?”

“I’d say we should cancel the shows until you got better,” he said as if the answer were obvious, then he seemed to hear his own words and deflated a little. “Fine. I suppose this is for the best. I… I just feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

Julie intertwined their fingers and held his hand tightly. She gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “You aren’t letting anybody down, Luke. It’s not your fault that you’re sick and there’s nothing any of us can do about it now. All that can be done is for you to rest and take your meds so that the next shows we do are as good as they can be. Okay?”

He rolled his eyes sighed, but there was the tiniest smile playing about his lips. “Okay.”

*

Julie had said it was a bad idea from the very beginning, but the boys had insisted that they’d done it before and it was perfectly safe.

It felt good to be proven right, but less good to be vomited on.

The first problem was that there was definitely not enough room anywhere in their tiny apartment for three grown men to attempt the famous lift from Dirty Dancing. Julie had pointed that out. She had pointed it out almost a dozen times. Every time, Reggie had told her that they didn’t actually need a lot of space, trust me.

The second problem was that their heights simply didn’t add up to a safe lift. Luke and Reggie were of a similar build, but Alex was much taller and there wasn’t really anywhere for him to go – if he held up one of the guys, they’d be held at an angle; if he were the one on top, he would likely crush the other two.

The third and final problem was that none of the boys were dancers and had no training or experience, therefore none of them knew how to do the lift properly and safely. Julie had stretched this argument to its breaking point but the three idiots had not heeded her warning.

And so they had done the lift.

It had started out strong. They had decided that Alex would be the one in the air, so Luke and Reggie had got into position with their hands outstretched and Alex had taken a great running start and leapt at them. To their credit, the boys held Alex in the air for a solid three seconds before Reggie lost his balance and Luke’s grip slipped, and the three of them went tumbling to the ground.

Julie watched in unsurprised horror as Alex fell flat on top of Reggie and scrambled to get off him, while Luke dropped far too close to the dining table and whacked his head on its corner with a grotesque thud.

He was out cold.

Julie muttered a curse and hurried towards him. Alex and Reggie gathered around slowly too, warily looking down at Luke, clearly feeling guilty.

“Luke?” Julie said to the unconscious lump in her lap. He was heavier than he looked – she privately understood why they had decided to lift Alex instead. “Can you hear me, sweetie?”

After a few more minutes, Luke came to, groaning and cradling his head.

“Hey,” Alex said, smiling brightly. “You’re awake! Sorry about that, we–”

Alex didn’t get to finish his sentence because Luke interrupted him by loudly and violently throwing up on Alex’s shoes. A little bit hit Julie’s dress and she quickly yanked the fabric out of the way.

Alex looked at his shoes disappointedly. After a long while he said, “I am going to the bathroom. Either to shower or be sick, I’m not sure yet,” and then disappeared.

Reggie was a deathly shade of green, staring at Luke and the vomit.

“If you don’t like it you can go, Reggie,” Julie said. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Reggie nodded and followed Alex out of the room, wide-eyed.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” Julie said. Luke nodded vaguely, his eyes far away, and she led him through the apartment to their bedroom. She only just managed to get him into bed before he started slipping into unconsciousness again.

It was plain as day that Luke had a nasty concussion. Julie tucked him into bed, then switched off the lights and drew the curtains so that it was almost pitch black. She got him an enormous glass of water and readied all the painkillers she could find, as well as grabbing a large bowl so that he didn’t have to run to the bathroom if he needed to be sick again. Then she looked up concussion on her phone – it said that if he’d woken up after being knocked out then he needed to go to hospital; she wasn’t sure how she was meant to get him there now that he was unconscious again.

Julie decided to wait until he woke up again. She laid down beside him on the bed and pressed the gentlest of kisses to his forehead.

“You’re such an idiot,” she whispered. “I love you.”

*

Julie loved her boys usually, but sometimes she really believed they lacked the common sense necessary for general survival.

“You did what?!”

Luke, Alex, and Reggie looked between each other frantically, stuttering for excuses.

“Uuuuhhhh…”

“Nothing really out of the ordinary, I don’t think.”

“Pretty sure it was actually you who did something they shouldn’t have.”

Julie raised her hands and the boys silenced. She glared at them, half furious and half exasperated.

“Are you seriously telling me – or rather not telling me – that after all the times I specifically told you it would be a bad idea, you went and got hotdogs that were being sold out of the back of an Oldsmobile?”

“In our defence,” Reggie piped up, raising his hand like a kid answering a question in class, “they smelled really good.”

“Wish they’d tasted as good as they smelled,” Luke grumbled. Alex hit him.

“I have never met anyone with less common sense!” Julie yelled, waving her arms. “What is wrong with you? What made you think it’d be a good idea? How did you not think that it was the dodgiest set up for any fast food ever?”

“Relax,” Reggie said, “street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

The highly questionable hotdogs did not, in fact, kill them. However, the next day all three boys were overcome with food poisoning so horrible that Julie simply could not take care of them all by herself.

That morning she sent a quick text to Willie to offload Alex to him: Come and get your dumb boyfriend, he and his idiot friends ate bad hotdogs and got sick, you can take one. Twenty minutes later, Willie showed up to take Alex back to his apartment, an ungodly amount of blankets in his hands when he arrived at the apartment.

Reggie was the least ill – he could pretty much take care of himself and at the very least he wasn’t throwing up everywhere. He stayed on the couch, watching some cartoon on repeat. Julie let him be.

Luke, on the other hand, was quite the task. He was feeling and looking absolutely dreadful, unable to move himself from his bed and being sick whenever he tried to do so much as drink a glass of water. Julie truly had her hands full trying to take care of him.

Despite his protests, she called the studio and cancelled their appointment with Luke today. He was in no fit state to record any hit songs right then; he could hardly even open his mouth without sick coming out of it.

Feeling particularly frazzled, Julie finally allowed herself a little break from rushing around after Luke to relax, just for a moment. She settled herself comfortably onto the bed beside Luke once his sickness had calmed down a bit and fired up Netflix. She could feel his doleful eyes on her as she selected a movie and let it play.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked.

“Are you apologising for being sick or for eating those hotdogs even though I told you not to?” she questioned.

Luke had the good grace to look a little ashamed. “Both.”

Julie shifted a little to wrap her arms around Luke’s midriff. “Don’t apologise for being sick. It is your fault, but don’t say sorry for it. I will accept your apology for disobeying me though.”

Luke rested his head against Julie’s shoulders, shuffling further into the covers. “We should have listened to you, I know. But if you could have just smelled those hotdogs…”

“Yeah, I’m sure they smelled great mingling with the stench of petrol,” Julie deadpanned. “I’m starting to think you three need constant adult supervision.”

“We are adults.”

“That’s why I’m so worried.”

Luke huffed a laugh, but then frowned. “I feel bad. You’re always the one taking care of me. Just once I want to take care of you.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you want me to get sick?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” he said hurriedly, even though Julie had been joking. “I just meant that you do such a good job with this every time. I want to give you a break.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Julie assured him. “But… if I ever do get sick, I’ll make sure to come straight to you and you can take care of me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Luke said with a soft smile.

*

It had been many years since Luke had been really sick. Julie had naively thought that maybe they’d get lucky and he’d never be sick again. Maybe his laughable immune system had finally caught up and had strengthened itself against what most people could avoid easily.

Wishful thinking.

Flu season was set to ruin Julie’s life. She had woken up one Monday morning and followed her usual routine, heading to her daughter’s bedroom to wake her up for preschool. She had shaken little Rose awake, but the three-year-old had been extremely hot.

“Oh, sweetie,” Julie had said gently. “Are you feeling sick?”

Rose, rubbing her teary tired eyes, had nodded and cried very quietly.

Julie had pulled her into a hug. “Okay, honey. You go back to sleep. It’s alright.”

She laid Rose back down, tucked her back in, and encouraged her to sleep. It took a long time and a lot of tears from Rose, but eventually the little girl drifted back into a fitful slumber. Feeling like all she wanted to do was go to sleep herself, Julie headed back to her own bedroom and shook Luke awake.

“Luke,” she whispered. “Rose is sick. I’m going to call the preschool and tell them she won’t be in, but then I’ve got to get to the studio. You think you can take care of her today?”

Luke sleepily opened his eyes and groaned as he shifted into a sitting position. He held a hand to his head – it looked far too similar to him steadying his balance for Julie’s liking.

She sighed. “Please don’t tell me you’re sick as well?”

Luke tried for a smile. “No, no, I’m alright. I’ll take care of Rose, don’t worry.”

He tried to swing himself out of bed, but Julie didn’t miss the way that the sudden movement made him wince. That and the fact that he clapped a hand to his mouth, the other held over his stomach. Unsteadily, he got to his feet and headed to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back to the bedroom looking sheepish.

“I’m sick too,” he said quietly.

Julie sighed haggardly and looked to the alarm clock on her bedside table. She needed to be at the studio to start her recording session in half an hour, but no part of her was willing to leave her husband and daughter alone while both of them were seeming awfully ill. She quickly made her decision.

“You get back to bed,” she said gently to Luke, taking his hand and leading him back to the bed.

“No, I need to get Rose,” he said, but he grudgingly followed her.

“I’m going to get Rose,” Julie told him as she sat him down and tucked him in. “I’ll bring her here and you can stay snuggled up together. I’ll call the preschool, run some errands, and I’ll check on you both later, okay?”

Luke nodded and lifted Julie’s hand to his lips as if to kiss it, then seemed to think better of it and dropped it. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Julie went back to Rose’s room. The little girl was fast asleep, wriggling around a little as she dreamt, her black curls that were the same as her mother’s spread out over her pillow. Gently, Julie picked her up and held her tightly to her chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as she carried her to her own bedroom.

Luke smiled as Julie entered the room with Rose cradled in her arms. He lifted up the duvet so that Julie could lay Rose down beside him. As she put Rose down, the little girl woke up. She looked around, seeming surprised to have been moved. Then she began to cry very, very quietly.

“Dada,” she wailed, tiny fists clutching at Luke’s pyjama top. “Mama!”

Julie was exhausted. She could see a long day ahead of her, looking after both of the most important people in her life as they battled this disgusting illness. But as she looked at them – tearful little Rose snuggled up with Luke, who had his arms around her tightly, stroking her back soothingly as he whispered shushes – she felt a little bit of that exhaustion melt away, replaced with love.

She perched herself on the bed. “Rosie,” she whispered, tucking one of Rose’s stray hairs behind her ear. “If you quiet down, Mama will sing you a lullaby.”

Luke’s eyes widened. Behind the bloodshot sickness, Julie could see the love and admiration he had for her in them. She beamed at him, and he smiled back as if in awe of her. She felt her heart swell with love.

Rose hushed a little and Julie began the lullaby that her own mother had sung to her when she was little. It was a traditional little rhyme, simple and easy, but the beautiful melismatic notes strung together like bunting made the rising melodies sound ethereally pretty. It had always been one of Julie’s favourite songs.

Rose fell back asleep, huddled in Luke’s arms. Luke reached his hand out of took Julie’s hand.

“You’re perfect,” he mouthed, trying not to wake Rose.

Julie smiled, gently kissed his hand, and finally got up to phone the preschool.

*

Julie never got sick. It wasn’t in her nature. It just didn’t happen.

Except for that one time.

Julie woke up with the highest temperature the thermometer had ever recorded, her head was spinning like she was on a rollercoaster, and her muscles felt so fatigued that she couldn’t get out of bed.

And yet, she said to Luke, “I swear I’m fine.”

Luke, in a rare moment of knowledge and common sense, didn’t take her word for it. He seemed almost excited for her sickness – Julie wasn’t sure how to feel about that – and he pulled her into a tight hug.

“No,” he said firmly, “you’re sick. I’m going to take care of you.”

And he did. The very next thing Luke did was make Julie up a hot water bottle and bring it to her to help combat her chills, then he brought her three boxes of paracetamol and an entire pitcher of water. He called the doctor’s office for advice, then dragged the entire television set up to his and Julie’s room from downstairs. He got Rose ready for school and before he left the house he assured Julie that he would be back soon and she didn’t need to worry and, “If you need anything, just call me and I’ll come straight back.”

Julie couldn’t help but smile despite her tiredness and awful feeling. “I’ll be fine, Luke. Get Rose to school before she’s late.”

“I love you,” Luke said.

Rose, stood at the end of Julie’s bed, said, “Love you, Mama!”

“I love you, Rosie. Have a good day.”

Julie watched the love of her life and her perfect daughter leave the room and listened to their footsteps heading downstairs. Maybe she felt absolutely terrible and perhaps like she was going to be sick, but when she had someone like Luke looking after her it didn’t feel quite so dreadful.

[ignisgalaxia]

My dad shared some news today that I think needs to be mentioned.

One of his former coworkers from back home went with his son to a weekend summer camp a couple weeks ago (which is already a terrible idea). They shared their tent with another father and son they were friends with. After a while, the other dad started coughing. He asked if he was okay and he replied with yeah I think I just got strep throat or something. My dad’s friend told him maybe he should go get tested just to be safe, to which the guy refused and insisted it wasn’t that serious.

Two days later, he was in the ICU in critical condition, having tested positive for coronavirus.

Hearing this, naturally my dad’s friend got tested. But since that shit takes forever to receive he got stuck there and mulled over what a stupid decision he’d made taking his son to a summer camp where people were cramped in tents. Meanwhile his friend’s condition continued to deteriorate to the point where he was put on life support.

He died a few days later.

My dad finally got in touch with him just yesterday and was told the whole situation. Luckily, his friend tested negative so he and his son were able to go home, but the other father didn’t make it.

I want to make something very clear. This man was very healthy. He was middle aged, didn’t smoke, didn’t have diabetes, or any of the other typical traits of people most susceptible. And unlike most cases, he didn’t go weeks without symptoms. He went two days before being so drained he had to be on life support. Two days. This virus is no joke. It is unpredictable and extremely contagious. AND YET people continue to think that it’s being made more serious than it actually is.

Hence why I’m making this post.

If you think that the coronavirus is a hoax or a conspiracy to push political agendas or an inconvenience that keeps you from having your precious summertime get-togethers, get the fuck off my blog.

If you believe that wearing a mask in public infringes on your rights or makes a political statement, get the fuck off my blog.

If you think that the amount of deaths occurring worldwide is not that serious and reopening schools is a genuinely good idea, get the fuck off my blog.

Because this entire situation has exposed just how petty people are willing to be when told to do something so simple that even a toddler can do it. These people are so selfish and so inconsiderate that they are willing to endanger not just themselves, but everyone around them because they don’t want to be told what to do.

Well guess what? It’s real and it will come for you if you don’t wake the fuck up and use your goddamn brain.

I truly don’t understand how people can be so ignorant and uncaring of their fellow man to just ignore this situation like it’s one big joke. BECAUSE IT’S NOT. PEOPLE ARE DYING AND YOU ARE THE REASON IT KEEPS HAPPENING.

So if you want to live a long life and have friends that actually use their common sense, then stay the fuck inside, wear your goddamn mask, and for the love of all things holy, DO NOT TOUCH PEOPLE.

[melodyplucked]

   ❝    oh poor chloe... strep throat's no joke... but- selfishly... i'm really, really happy you're here. i've missed you so much.   ❞    he smiles at her lovingly before kissing nini once more- he just can't help it. she's here- she's really here. he'd just been looking forward to getting on facetime with her for the night, and now she's right here with him and he gets to see his daughter. he's so lucky. so, so lucky... he chuckles at nini's words.   ❝    fair enough- i guess i don't have to warn you- years of skating together...   ❞    he remarks, squeezing her hip to pull her a bit closer as she leans into his embrace so nicely. he so loves holding her close.   ❝    lola... daddy would love to skate with you tomorrow sweet girl.   ❞    he coos, smiling at their toddler so happily.   ❝    i hope your flight went okay, did our girl hold up alright my love?   ❞    

❝    my    last    skater    of    the    week    came    down    with    strep,    so    we    were    able    to    come    after    all.    ❞    she    felt    bad    for    chloe,    but    it    meant    that    she    and    lola    could    go    and    see    ricky    compete,    and    that    was    the    best    way    she    could    have    thought    to    spend    the    weekend.    lola    had    been    pointing    at    pictures    of    her    dad    for    two    days,    asking    when    he'd    be    home,    and    nini    knew    that    with    their    newly    freed    weekend,    they    needed    to    fly    out    to    lake    placid    and    be    with    ricky.    ❝    we    missed    you,    daddy.    you    can    hug    me    sweaty    any    time    you'd    like    as    long    as    you're    hugging    me.    ❞    she    tells    him,    leaning    into    his    embrace.    she'd    skated    with    him    long    enough    that    it    didn't    bother    her.    by    the    end    of    their    programs,    they    were    both    usually    sweaty    and    clinging    to    each    other.    it    had    never    bothered    her    before.    ❝    daddy    and    lola    skate?    ❞    comes    the    little    girl's    tired    voice,    leaning    her    head    against    her    dad's    shoulder.    she'd    been    watching    videos    of    ricky    taking    her    for    a    ride    around    the    rink    and    nini    thought    it    was    adorable    how    she'd    kept    asking    for    him    to    skate    her    around    again.